Sometimes it takes leaving a thing to know how much you value it. It’s in the departure that we truly realize how deep we love. But how can you love so much after knowing for so little time? Together for a mere three months and yet our hearts ached as we hugged and said our goodbyes.

It was a week of “lasts”. Every place and person and thing and moment was a appreciated with new depths as we knew it would be the last time we would experience it. Every sunset was a countdown. There were no longer just items on the schedule, but all was prefaced with “the last”. “The last ministry night,” “the last Monday morning worship,” “the last work duty,” “the last time eating at the aloha cafeteria.” Everything held a fresh level of beauty that, had we not known we were leaving, we would never have had such admiration for.

But every palm tree and ocean view could not touch the beauty that overwhelmed our hearts as we looked at the faces of those recent strangers who were now deep friends. The heart’s capacity to love is truly amazing. May we not wait till we leave a place to treasure those around us for who they truly are.

On a less sappy note…
Going into this week we knew it was going to be a wild one. If you don’t know Todd White, well, you probably should. He’s a famous evangelist/speaker/miracle-worker/ normal Christian. What he shared, but more than that, the life we watched him live, deeply inspired us. The man just walks in radical faith and simple obedience. He shared story after story of times he had seen people saved, healed, or delivered, but many of the stories he told weren’t from years ago; they were from within the last few days. There’s no vacation for him, because every person he comes in contact with has the potential of encountering Jesus.

When we look at someone like Todd, the first thing we tend to do is elevate them. We glorify there personality or their gifting, and we say, well he can live like that, because he’s Todd White. He’s a preacher, or he’s specially chosen by God, but Todd continuously challenged us to believe that he was nothing special, but this was supposed to be normal Christianity. We’re supposed to walk like Jesus: destroying the power of hell wherever we go, healing the sick, casting out demons, and showing the world what the Father is really like.

Todd’s story was one of unrelenting obedience to Jesus. He read in the bible that “these signs will follow those who believe, the sick will be healed, the lame will walk, the blind will see.” So he would pray for people, but no one would get healed. Three and a half months of praying for 10-15 people a day went by without him seeing a single healing, but he believed more in what the Bible said he should be seeing than what he wasn’t seeing happening. And eventually someone got healed, and the week after that a few more got healed, and then a few more. He wasn’t anything special, he was just a man working construction, telling everyone about Jesus, and praying for all who needed healing. And he didn’t give up.

Galatians 6:9 says, “And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.” Heidi Baker has one of the most profound ministries, where healings in Mozambique are so common that they do not even know if a deaf person has been prayed for that hasn’t received heading back. As far as they know, 100% are healed. But Even Heidi baker prayed for around 1000 people before seeing anyone get healed. And she famously quoted as saying, “if you don’t quit, you win.”

So Todd White and Heidi Baker, two of the most well know people in ministry, both started out with a ton of failure, a ton of rejection, but the common denominator was this, they didn’t give up.

Man, something just hit me when Todd was sharing, because in understanding all this, I became aware of the fact that I had given up. There was a time in high school when my friends and I would go out to laundromats and gas stations and wherever we felt God leading us to, and we would tell people that Jesus loved them, and we’d pray for anyone who needed healing. But after a while of seeing minimal salvations or healings, and feeling quite insecure I stopped. There were times when I would return to this, but it was always drenched in fear and insecurity. And the weight of this lifestyle became too much, so I gave up. But I believe it’s time to stop hiding from what I’ve been called to, and dare to believe that the a harvest will be reaped if I just keep going for it.

The thing to remember is that the driving force behind people like Todd and Heidi is love. They’ve died to serving themselves, they’ve died to receiving honor from people, they live the way they do because they love the way they do, and they recognize that the world is dying for that kind of love. All creation groans for the revealing of the children of God. Because when the children walk out in their identity, all will see the Father.

After this week, we couldn’t stay the same. We couldn’t let fears hold us back any longer. We couldn’t quit. Thursday night, after Todd’s last time sharing, we went. We hit the streets with a love in our hearts and fire in our eyes. We shared the gospel on street corners and bars,g to marines and high school students. And when we moved God did too. We saw one the healing of persons shoulder, another guys arm, and a girls neck.

Outreach has begun, not just for the next two months, but for the rest of our lives. We have been sent, and there’s no turning back, there’s no giving up. We’ve been set free and we’ll set free. We’ve tasted and seen, and as long as breath remains we’ll offer the world this feast.

There comes a time when intimacy births passion, when the comfort of closeness demands an outward expression, when love received overflows into love given, and the now satisfied selfish pursuit turns into a sacrifice for something beyond ourselves.

Selfish Love

So far, my DTS has been solely about me. I’ve come here looking for personal healing, freedom, and wholeness, and I don’t think that’s wrong.

Let me go on a tangent real quick…

If we were to define selfishness as living to primarily fulfill one’s own desires, than I would say that such a selfishness isn’t unbiblical. Throughout the bible we see the invitation of God for us to come to him for satisfaction. God doesn’t even require that we then become more beneficial to him. He doesn’t ask us to come to him so that we’ll become better people.  He invites us to be selfish. He invites us to come to him for our own satisfaction. He invites us to freely recieve (Isaiah 55:1). Why? Because he really loves us that much, he really wants to be our joy and peace, and he really wants to just be with us. Any loving husband desires to be the same for his wife. If he were merely doing loving actions to get her to become a better wife, we would not call him a loving husband. He loves because he wants her to feel loved. Similarly, we wouldn’t condemn a wife for going to her husband for joy and comfort. We wouldn’t even draw a distinction between her loving what she receives from her husband and loving her husband, because what she receives always leads to a greater love for the man. Yet how much greater is the love of the One who is Love? How much more does God invite us to come, not to learn a lesson, but to know and feel that we are loved? Indeed we have full permission, and even the beckoning of God, to run to him that our own joy may be full.

I would hate to see this open access hindered by religiosity and an attitude of productivity that says, “Don’t come to God if you’re only going to receive his love and stay the same.” I just don’t see that in the character of God. The sin that was most spoken of in the Old Testament was idolatry; it was running to things other than God. The primary request of God was to turn back to him. The goal has always been and always will be intimacy with him, not the good we can do for him. All that we ever do for God is merely a byproduct of the vibrant relationship we have with God. Jesus clearly said that the greatest commandment was to passionately love God, and all of the other laws are fulfilled in doing so.

I probably sound repetitive, but this must be understood before I continue. If we don’t start here, I don’t think we can move on to doing things for God. And we never really “move on” in the sense of leaving it behind. We must begin by simply receiving this love. We must delight ourselves in the lord. And when we feel full, keep asking for more.

1 John 4:8 says “Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love.” What if we saw the problem not as the fruit but as the root? What if we didn’t first try to love better, but we first tried to know God more? Jesus says that “Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing” (John 15:5).  I’m so believing that this generation is going to be one that understands the heart of God. A group of people who just want to be with God, and know that he just wants to be with them. People who have hearts that purely want Jesus. And the truth is that yeah, they will bear fruit, but that’s not the end goal. If we get focused on the fruit, we soon find thousands of fears and insecurities holding us back. But when we get wrapped up in the love of God, the outflow is a fruitful lifestyle free from fears and insecurities. And again, the fruitful lifestyle isn’t the goal, being with God is the goal.

…End of tangent.

Drinking Deeply

This past Thursday morning I stood in the Ohana Court as Lindy and Seth led us in worship. I looked around at the faces and outstretched arms of hundreds of people worshipping this King who has changed their lives forever. Right then a vivid memory came of Lindy and Seth leading worship at a Circuit Rider school in Pennsylvania almost three years ago. I remembered the feeling of faith and awe in that place, and again, here in Hawaii, the same feelings rushed in. It was in Lancaster, hanging out with hundreds of YWAMers who had just come from Kona, that I had dreamed of going to Kona. Years had gone by, yet here I was, encountering the love of God. I was instantly overwhelmed with gratitude for his faithfulness. Words could not express what I was feeling. I was full of faith and so aware of Jesus’ presence in that moment. I wept and just kept saying, “thank you.” And all I could think was “I never want to leave this place.”

I felt so loved and so in love. I just wanted to be here with Jesus forever. Then it hit me: This is guaranteed. I will be here forever. For all of eternity I will be in this place of being overwhelmed by his goodness. No matter what goes on in my life and what I go through, I will end up here again. My thoughts turned outward. But there are those who have never been here, and if I don’t do anything about it, they never will. So will I give up several years of comfort in the Ohana Court to spend my life inviting people the courts of heaven, where we’ll be forever? Oh, let all that is within me say, “Yes!”

Here I encountered the reality that in this place of going after God, this place of “selfishly” receiving God’s love, a phenomenon occurs: we get so close to the heart of God that we begin to feel what he feels and forget about serving ourselves. You see, when our selfishness encounters what it’s looking for, it no longer needs to be selfish. And it is only from this place of deep love with the father that we can truly love others. That’s why Jesus says when talking about the greatest commandment, “the second is like it” (Matthew 22:39). There is a direct parallel between loving God and loving others. But the first is put first, because without it, the second could never be.

Oh! I want my life will be one of drinking deep of God’s love, of running to him often! And as I do a greater intimacy will be reached, and my heart, filled and saturated with his love, will look outward onto a world that has never tasted what I’ve tasted, but they’ll see in my eyes and watch in my life that I have. From here, all I’ll have to do is reach out my hands and offer the invitation and freely give what I’ve freely received.

It was around 1:30am by the time I pealed my body off the floor, still chuckling at the thought of what had just taken place. Honestly, I wouldn’t have believed you if you were to tell me at the beginning of the night what would have happened.

It was Friday, and the Fire and Fragrance DTS was having their ministry night. Though we had had ours on Monday I felt like I needed some more Jesus time so I went in. It was honestly a struggle for me. I felt disconnected and the more I felt that way the more I thought about it, and the more I thought about it the more I felt that way. I reasoned for 2 hours as to why I felt like this and what I was doing wrong and what I should be thinking and whether I should be trying harder or just stop trying, whether I should be seeking God or just thanking him, and then I felt bad for getting distracted. Soon enough ministry night was over. And without speaking to anyone I slipped out and got alone with the Lord.

I sat outside of the cafe, as far from anyone else as I could get. I looked up at the sky. I just began to ask the lord what was wrong, and immediately I felt him say, “You just want to be loved.” He was right. That was all I wanted. I spent a tender moment with the Lord, just talking to Him and remembering all the times that he has met me and comforted me. Soon I went back towards where some fire and fragrance students sat and talked. I stayed with them until someone walked over from the prayer room and said, “I’ve never seen that place so swirly.” Apparently there was some wildness going on, so with my FOMO (fear of missing out) kicking in, I rudely left the conversation and walked in.

I’ve never witnessed anything like what I saw. People were laying on the ground. Some crying, most laughing, and many were shaking, and I don’t mean gently swaying to the music; I mean violently jerking around with limbs in somewhat contorted positions. I sat down in a chair and just stared onward in amazement. Yeah, it was weird, but what is weird but what’s not normal? I wanted so much more than the normal. For far too long our weird has been the Bible’s normal. I felt so done with watching all this happen around me without being a part of it. I wanted God. I began to pray and seek Him. A few people came and prayed for me, but still I felt nothing. Like I said in previous posts, I knew I was God’s friend and that was enough. I knew I was his child, and I didn’t have to strive to be right with him. And yet I longed for what I saw going on around me.

As one person prayed for me they reminded me of what my name means. Israel was the name given to Jacob after he had wrestled with God all night. Jacob refused to let go of God until he blessed him, so eventually God did, and thus the name Israel was given to him because he had wrestled with God and prevailed. (Gen 32:22-32).

That’s where I was. For too long I had been missing out on this. I resolved to not stop until he blessed me, and to me that meant encountering God in a physical way like I was seeing happen all around me.

I walked around the room for a couple hours. Praying and watching. People were falling at a rate of about one per minute. I talked to a few people who were still standing, and processed what was going on in my heart. It wasn’t that I doubted it that it was God, but I doubted that God would meet me in that way. One friend told me to ask Holy Spirit what I should do, and what I felt was to just wait and keep asking. So that’s what I did.

By now the band had been gone for about an hour, and the excitement had mostly declined. I sat alone and laid my head back against the carpeted floor. “I want you Holy Spirit” I whispered. A few minutes later a woman I recognized as Maria walked over (She was one of those responsible for starting this whole thing). “Can I pray for you?” she asked. I gladly accepted, assuming it would be like all the other prayers I had received that night.

As she began to pray she let out a loud moan as she tends to do “Woah!! God, he has been waiting for you! He won’t leave until he gets more of you!” Instantly I knew that this was going to be a little different. She kept praying and as she did I felt a sort of peace. My right hand, which hung by my side, began to shake. “Oh wow.” I thought, “Is this actually happening?” my heart began to pound rapidly in my chest. “No, I would not be satisfied with this” I thought, “You’re going to have to do better than this, God.” Right than Maria spoke again “You’re funny… He says you’re going to have to do better than this, God! So give him MORE!!!” I was simultaneously shocked and delighted. I began to just laugh as an uncontrollable smile spread across my lips. My knees began to shake, but I wasn’t about to fall easily; I wasn’t going down without a fight. My chest tightened up and I bent forward. I regained by balance, and then my legs… what happened to my legs!? They were merely bones wrapped in flesh serving no functional purpose. I couldn’t feel or move them but began to tip backwards. I felt hands behind me (praise God for catchers). He held me up though I was giving no support to his efforts. A moment later I was on the ground, laughing and shaking uncontrollably. My hand, like a fish, flapped beside me. I was fully conscious, and wasn’t sure what even sure what to think. I could hear the laughter of others in the prayer room who had all heard my recent complaints of not encountering God. Something I realized was that God was not nearly as concerned with my inability to focus my mind or engage my thoughts as I was. He knew my heart and what I was asking, and with so much love, he answered. Next thing I knew Maria was taking off my sandals, asking for more, and then touching the bottom of my feet, which set me rolling on the floor in laughter. I felt a touch on my stomach (which I later found out to be a friend poking me with his bible) and again I heaved in barrel loads of laughter. I have no idea how long I shook on the floor, but eventually I opened my eyes and was helped up by a friend to see a now empty prayer room. I stumbled back to my room, fell asleep laughing, and woke up with butterflies in my stomach at the thought of the night before.

So yeah… I got slain. I would love to give you some deep theological insight or some profound revelation that I had, but there was none. I think this is the part where I lean not on my own understanding. I simply wrestled with God, and he blessed me.

I looked around our classroom at groups of individuals encountering a person of the Trinity they hardly knew. It was Holy Spirit Week, and if you know anything about YWAM, you know that it is one of the most transformative times in a DTS. This was no different for us.

Coming into this week my heart was full of expectancy. I was ready for a crazy encounter with God. I wanted to get profoundly healed; I wanted to get slain (falling over in the Spirit); I wanted to start levitating, get set on fire, and thrown across the room. I didn’t care particularly. I just wanted a life-changing encounter. The only thing I was really afraid of was missing out, and spoiler alert: I didn’t.

As the week progressed we witnessed the Holy Spirit move in wild ways. It always amazes me how easily He shows up when you just ask. I think most of the time he doesn’t is because we try to offer him something in exchange for his presence. God is so committed to showing us that we’re His children and that he’ll give the Holy Spirit to those that ask (Luke 11:13), that he’ll actually refrain from manifesting himself in situations where we try to use our good works or holiness to earn him, because if he did, he would only be perpetuating a slave relationship with us.

When we learned about healing, our speakers, Ruth and Steve Moore, taught us that a key to seeing healing was “Don’t try. Just ask.” Because you can’t actually heal someone, but Holy Spirit can through you, so just ask Him to. What happened next was breathtaking.

Ruth and Steve called up those who had never witnessed a miraculous healing, along with a few people with lower back pain. They sat those with back pain down with their legs outstretched and their hips against the back of the chair. Generally, the back pain is actually caused because one leg is longer than the other. Since this was the case, the person who hadn’t ever seen a miracle simply said “In Jesus name, leg grow.” and in a flurry of gasps and excited laughter, we watched the leg grow. And of course, the back pain left as well. But it was only the beginning. This was one of about half a dozen cases of legs growing out. Out of the 45 of us in the room, we saw upward of 20 healings. How? We asked. Why? Because God loves to heal. And just as impactful as what God did in people’s bodies was what he did in their hearts and minds, as many learned for the first time the access they have to Holy Spirit.

Overall, the week was an unforgettable one. Healings, prophetic words, people getting slain, and even gold dust appearing on someone’s hands (which hadn’t even been taught about). But as for me? I didn’t get healed. I didn’t get slain or have any gold dust appear on me. I didn’t levitate, get set on fire, or thrown across the room. It was a moment where disappointment was close by. The classic feelings of being left out or like I just needed to try harder would normally have filled my mind, but this time I heard something different. It was subtle, slightly louder than an ordinary thought, and it simply asked the question, “Is it enough that I’m your friend?” As I looked around the room at the uncontrolled overflow of the Holy Spirit, a burden lifted off my chest as I knew the answer. Yes.

Tears streamed down my face as I looked up at the stars. Pale blue was flowing over the horizon and beginning to lighten the dark morning sky. It was a fairly cool morning (as far as Hawaiian weather goes), and though I was only in my sandals, shorts, and t-shirt, I hardly noticed. It’s amazing how lies can sound so true. It’s amazing how truth can sound so foreign. I’ve heard it a thousand times, why was it now so hard to swallow?

The night before was one to be documented. Jonathan David Helser and Melissa Helser had led us in the worship experience of a lifetime. Even after the music had ended we just stayed there, under no compulsion to leave. I sat in the Ohana Court surrounded by the voices of many different conversation. A few words could be made out here and there, but it was mostly background noise. It was 9:30, now half an hour after quiet hours had begun. The night had been electric. Some people had fallen over under the weight of God’s presence, others laughed uncontrollably. The environment wasn’t completely foreign to me, but in that moment I certainly didn’t feel resident. I wasn’t skeptical. I fully believed the encounters with God that people were having around me. How could I not? I had seen people who had never experienced God become completely overwhelmed by his presence. But, despite my best efforts to stir up emotions, I felt distant. So what was holding me back? Why did I feel like I was missing out? Earlier that night there was a lyric that Melissa had sung that stuck out to me like it never had before. “you split the sea so I can walk right through it.” It didn’t feel this way for me. I felt as if I was watching people walk through, but I was spending all my energy swimming and trying to stay afloat, hoping to catch a glimpse of God.

The lecture this week was on identity. It took about 30 minutes for me to see that God was about to deal with some deep issues in my heart. It’s almost embarrassing to say the stuff that I’m learning, because it’s something I was probably taught in Sunday School. This week it was hearing that I’m a son of God. Not an orphan: distant from the father and unsure of his intentions, alone, deprived of love and acceptance, afraid of being abandoned. Not a slave: working hard to catch a glimpse of the Father, using achievements and skills to feel worthy, tired, bitter towards the children who haven’t done enough to earn love. But a son: part of the family, fully seen and fully loved by a Father, secure in an identity that cannot be shaken by failure, grateful and able to receive the good gifts the Father wants to lavish, stable, at rest, giving love away freely, reminding others of their sonship and inviting them into the freedom, concerned only with the thoughts, feelings, and doings of the Father.

I knew I was a son. I could have told you that. I could have taught you that. But then why, in so many areas of my life, did I live like a slave? Maybe it was the years of schooling that convinced me my life was graded. Maybe it was the conditional love of others that told me I had to earn my identity. Whatever it was, it had sunken deep into my heart, and as I looked up into the fading stars, I was forced to face the fact that I could not earn my position as a son.

Looking back on it, I find that most of my profound encounters with God were the ones where I came, not to trade my good works for his attention, but humbled and hungry, ready to receive his affection. “Walk in the house, all that I have is yours” is the invitation. But how often do we, like the older brother in the field (Luke 15), sit outside, working and striving for something that is already ours. I am a son. My relationship with God is sealed. My identity is unshaken. My path is cleared. The veil is torn. The sea is split, and all I have to do is walk through it.

Have you ever heard anything that has just shaken you? Like the words were accompanied with a sledgehammer that struck you straight in the heart? I had no idea why. I was honestly focusing more on the fact that lunch was in 10 minutes than on what our speaker was saying. But next thing I know, I’ve got chills going down my spine and I’m left choked up, eyes stinging, and thinking, “what was that?” I quickly scribbled the phrase down in my notebook, hoping that I would be able to discern what it was about those words that hit me so hard.

Soul Surgery

I’ve begun to form a routine here on the campus. My mornings are spent in the prayer room until 6:30, when I go to breakfast. I’ve got class until I go to lunch at noon. Afternoons usually consist of evangelism, outreach team time, or small groups, followed by working in the kitchen or working out at cross fit. Monday nights are ministry nights, Tuesday nights I play basketball, Wednesday nights are family nights with my school, Thursday nights we have a service with the whole campus, Friday nights and Saturdays I explore the island, and Sundays I generally reflect and write my blog post. Yet in the midst of the consistency of the schedule, there is an underlying journey that God is taking me on. He’s digging deep into places of my heart that I didn’t even know existed, and half the time I wonder how they can expect us to go to the next event on our schedule so soon after such intense soul surgery was performed.

Father Heart

For week three we had Ben Nonoa (“Uncle Ben”) teach on the Father Heart of God. I think for most of us, knowing God as a father is something we’ve heard hundreds of times before, yet as Uncle Ben brought the truth in all its raw intensity, we quickly became aware of how shallow our understanding of God’s love had actually penetrated us. For though we knew it in our heads, our hearts still hadn’t managed to believe that such a love could exist for us. And as we came in contact with this reality, it forced all of the hindrances to the surface, because in order to receive the love of God you have to first make room for it.

It was during this time that those words struck me. All he said was, “Some of you have safety harnesses that you need release. You have a plan B if this doesn’t work, a ‘just in case’ God doesn’t show up. And if you want to go deeper, you’re going to have to let go of it.” So there I am, shaken by these words and thinking, what safety harness do I have? My whole life has been about this. All of what I do is centered on Jesus. All my dreams and aspirations are about what I can do for God; why does that phrase mean anything to me?

Plan B

As you may have read in my previous posts, this has been a season of seeing that God is so much bigger than I had previously thought. It’s been a season of believing that God really could heal all of me. But as you ask for healing you soon find that God actually wants to heal you, and he is completely willing to bring up all of the junk you’d rather leave buried. In this process I’m forced to ask myself, “What if I allow all of these fears and insecurities that I spent so long hiding from to be brought up, and God doesn’t deal with them? What then? Am I willing to face my fears and dare to believe that God will face them with me?” And so I’ve stood on the edge of this precipice, feeling like I’ve been fully surrendered, yet I’ve remained in the place of my own dependence. Toes over the edge, but still in control. I’ve limited how far I’ll go based on what I know I can handle. You see, I’ve stayed where if God doesn’t show up I’ll still be okay. I’ve got the zeal and the willpower to overcome the depression or fear I may come up against. I have the resolve, I have the wisdom, I have the experience; nothing will shake my faith. So if God doesn’t come through I’ll be alright, because I have a plan B: me.

But as long as that safety harness remains I will never be free, because the same thing that would protect me from vulnerability would hinder me from the freedom of falling out of my security and into the arms of a Father who would show me what true safety is. For to be dependent on oneself is to never truly be free, because, in all honesty, we know we are incapable; we know we can’t keep all of our fears subdued forever. But the letting go is an invitation into a safety not dependent on my strength of will, but on God’s strength made perfect in my weakness. So as I’ve begun to let myself fall off of this precipice, I’ve felt the rush of adrenaline through my veins, the heart palpitations pounding in my ears, the butterflies in my stomach, the breathe held tightly in my lungs, and all of my attention focuses on the question, “Will God catch me?”

Just a Thought

You know how we’re on this planet spinning a thousand miles an hour, and our planet has this rock spinning around us, and together, us and our moon, along with 7 other planets and their moons are orbiting this giant ball of fire that’s 90 million miles away that provides enough heat for us to survive, and yet that ball of fire is only one star among billions in our galaxy, which is only one galaxy among hundreds of billions in our universe? Me too. Let’s call that wisdom. But have you ever realized it? Has it ever hit you, and you are suddenly overwhelmed by the size of our universe and your relative smallness? Let’s call that revelation. I love that. Wisdom may be to know, but revelation is to feel things as real as they really are. I want to feel the reality of my life as vivid as it truly is. I want the eyes of my heart to be enlightened, that I would be aware of the reality of my existence and the existence of Jesus, the existence of this God who gave it all for me, and the existence of this Spirit that lives in me. Sometimes it hits me. But I find that most of my life is distracted. Most of my life is spent caught up in the irrelevant, but oh, that I would take the time to remember what life is and to meditate on it until reality hits me. I think part of life is walking into a greater, less distracted awareness. Paul prayed for the church in Ephesus that God would give them a Spirit of wisdom and revelation. I don’t just want wisdom, I want revelation; I don’t just want to know it, I want to feel it. I’ve met those who could cry tears of awe and joy at the very mention of Jesus, and who are so full of an awareness and wonder that it awakens others to the reality as well. I want to live like that.

Just a thought.

Good Theology

This second week of my DTS was led by Danny Lehman and was focused on the character and nature of God. We talked a lot of deep theology, and it was amazing. We compared Calvinism and Arminianism, free will and predestination, we talked about the trinity, we looked at the natural attributes of God and the moral character of God, and we learned and wondered and questioned. But I think the most important thing Danny taught was that God is infinite and personal.

I really think we have to be careful lest we make God into a formula, lest we make God into an equation or an object that we can study through a microscope. God is a person, three persons in fact, which means we can perform the most thorough study of who God is, and yet never know him. It’s true that knowing about God and his character is valuable. And what a privilege it is that God has revealed so much about himself to us. Throughout the Bible God tells us what he is like. We hear of his strength and his knowledge, his wrath and his justice, his mercy and his kindness. And I believe that there is something in us, let’s call it conscience, an awareness of what is good and true, and when we see God for who he really is, we can’t help but fall in love with him. But I also believe that one of the worst things we can assume is that we’ve figured God out. As soon as we’ve broken God down into a list of attributes and behaviors we forget that we were made to look at God in all his mystery and majesty and get lost in who he is. To think that we’ve figured him out, or even mostly figured him out, is utterly arrogant and even dangerous, because such thinking can cause us to stop searching and seeking after God. After all, if God hasn’t helped us out yet, and we believe that we’ve experienced most of him, then why keep seeking him?

So as we dig deep into the characteristics of God and learn all we can about his nature, let that never distract us from the fact that God is infinite and personal, and to know a person you need not information but relationship. If we know him as a person and can trust him as a person, than when we run into things we don’t understand and wrestle with questions like why suffering happens or predestination versus free will, it won’t cause us to give up on figuring him out, but will cause us to want to know him more. May all of the holiness and mysteriousness of who God is only lead us to love him more, for if our theology determines anything apart from the goodness of God, than it was futile, and all our efforts were in vain, for we missed who God truly is.

Outreach Location Revealed

Probably the most exciting part of this week was learning our outreach location. We knew the moment was coming, and as some of the other schools began to find out our anticipation grew. We walked into the classroom on Wednesday night and whether it was logical deduction or a pure gut feeling, we knew we were about to discover where we would spending life from April through June. The previous Friday we had been given four options and the opportunity to write down our first and second choice. We had 30 minutes to pray and decide where to go, but I knew within seconds. As the locations appeared on the screen I immediately knew where I wanted to go, but felt the Lord say to put my choice second and His first. As the Middle East appeared on the screen, I knew that’s where I was supposed to go. After 30 minutes of wrestling over whether I really heard God or not, I went with what I had initially felt (there may or may not have been a coin flip in there too). Between that moment and Wednesday night, my heart had completely changed, and there was now nowhere I would rather go than the Middle East. After a hyped up time of revealing our outreach location, involving a scavenger hunt and wild introductions to what team members and staff would be joining us, we finally began to realize that we were actually going to be missionaries. As the Middle East team met afterwards, there was an excitement in the air, and if they told us we were leaving that second I swear would have been ready. We all shared our equal amazement and desire to go love on the people of the Middle East.

Even in the short time since I’ve found out, my life has begun to change as I look toward this next season of life. I have begun to feel God’s heart for the people there as their faces have fill my thoughts and prayers. I’m attempting to learn the dialect of arabic of where we’re going, and so I’ve made friends with some people here from the country we’re going to. I can’t tell you exactly what country that is for safety reasons. I also have to go by a different name. Apparantly calling out “Israel” in the Middle East is frowned upon. I’ve yet to think of a good alternative. As far as what we will do there, it’s really up to us and what we feel the Holy Spirit call us to do. Some probable options are serving and caring for the Syrian and Sudanese refugees, sharing the gospel of Jesus with our Muslim neighbors, and assisting the local churches in their ministries. But what we all look forward to the most is that we just get to be with Jesus, doing what he loves to do.

A Culture of Permission

Can I just be honest with you for a moment? This place is amazing. It’s hard to believe that somewhere on earth could contain so much joy and excitement. There is a freedom here to love, and we’ve taken full advantage of it. Whether it’s the lunch line or the class room, it’s hard to make it far without someone celebrating you with an enthusiastic “What’s up bro!” or “How’s it going?!” High fives and hang loose signs galore. Everyone serves each other and everyone is grateful. My work duty is in the kitchen, and even in there you will find a surprising amount of delight. We sing songs as we clean, and the dirty dishes that are dropped off are generally accompanied by cheers and warm “thank you”s. We respond with a “You’re Awesome! Have a great day!” And the best part is it’s all authentic. We mean it with all that is in us, and if anything, it’s less exuberant than we actually feel. We can’t not be joyful, we can’t not be thankful. It’s like the monotony of life and the critical thinking that we’ve been so long enslaved to has been stripped away, and at last we have permission to wildly and outlandishly love each other. It’s as if all the false professionalism that has restricted us has been replaced with childlike wonder, and our hearts are singing in the joy of this liberation. I’ve never seen the prayer “on earth as it is in heaven” come so nearly to being answered as I see it here.

There is such a beauty in the diversity of backgrounds here. As I walk around I hear a variety of languages being spoken, and of those that are English, many are of a different accent. Three of my roommates are Korean, one is Norwegian, and the other is British: the British culture being by far the most different from that of the United States. We say trunk and hood, they say boot and bonnet; we rent a car, they hire a car; we say “rock, paper, scissors,” they say “paper, scissors, rock.” I think there may still be some rebellion there from the revolution. (A joke my British roommate told me, “In England we say horse riding, but here you say horseback riding… just in case you forget what part of the horse to ride”).

Week One

The week began with worship in the Ohana Court. Several hundred of us got onto the chair-less concrete slab, and as the music began, all of us raised our hands and voices in adoration and anticipation. If we were silent the rocks would have cried out. It was like the first warm breeze of long cold winter, a starving man’s first bite of a six month meal. The day ended in similar fashion in the prayer room for ministry night, where we sang and cried out for more of God. We took a moment to pray for those that were sick and hurting, and after many miraculous healings, ended the night in wild dancing and laughter. I think my weekends will be spent looking forward to Monday.

As I sat in our classroom for the first time, I felt a strange awareness, a fear almost; it was like a great intimidation of what would happen here. I became awake to the reality that there were deeper places in my heart that had not yet been satisfied, deeper areas of brokenness that had not yet been healed, and it felt as if it would be in this place where they would be exposed.

Over the past few years God has brought so much healing to my heart. I’ve tasted of his goodness and He’s put many of my fears to rest. He has silenced my anxiety and brought life to my depression. But in the midst of all this, I’ve somehow grown to limit Him. I had experienced Him in a certain way and believed that his ability to heal was equivalent to that experience. My life has since consisted of seeking God in the areas where I believed He would meet me and coping with the rest of life by my own mechanisms. I buried my fears so deep that I had forgot about them, though their symptoms still influenced me. But now, as all this has begun to surface, a cry has grown in my heart “God, make me whole.”

Our speaker for the week was Mike Brown, and the primary thing he did was give us permission to hunger for more. He shared story after story of ways that God had met him and spoken to him. Chills ran down my spine and excitement filled my eyes as he spoke. I was amazed by his stories and more amazed by the person he was. Yet as close as he was to God, he was still as hungry for God as anyone I’ve met. He invited us to refuse to be the one who is left out, and to say “Even if no one else hears God, I will hear God” He told us that it is all available to us, God himself has made himself within reach; the question is what are we willing to do to find him? “It is the glory of God to conceal a matter and the glory of kings to seek it out” (Proverbs 25:2). These words reverberated through me, waking up a longing and a long forgotten anticipation. With my faith now stirred, through tears, as honest as I’ve ever prayed anything, I prayed, “God, I want to know you.”

Though I wouldn’t have said it, I had come to believe that God had an end, that he was finite, and I lived as if I had almost grasped the fullness of Him. My job in life had become about reminding myself of what I already knew about God and about living out what I thought I was supposed to do. But my gosh, there is so much more to God than what I’ve ever imagined! As Mike Brown said, “my job is to have the most dynamic, alive, joyful, fulfilling relationship with God, show others, and tell them how to get it.” I believe this is far more powerful than my strategy, because when I look at what has inspired me the most and what has given me the most motivation, it wasn’t someone telling me to try harder, it was sitting across the table from someone who was living in wholeness and intimacy with Jesus. Watching their life gave me hope for my own, and inspired me to do what it would take to get there. I think I settled for simply serving God through my brokenness, because in all honesty, I didn’t believe that God was willing to make me whole. But perhaps He has just been waiting for me to start believing he would and become desperate enough to seek Him out.

I’ve cried almost every day this week, mostly out of shear hunger for God. But hunger is a sign of life, and hunger can only exist when what is hungered for exists. So I’ll take it as an invitation. God has over and over again asked us to ask of him, to seek him, to find him, and he has promised to reveal himself. This first week has exposed my desperation, and I believe that God will finish what he started. I stand at what I thought was merely a refreshing glass of water, but now see, though dimly, that I am on the shores of an endless ocean, and my heart’s cry is to swim in the depths of it.

In case you missed it, I chose to do a discipleship training school with YWAM for six months. My first three months will be spent in Kona, and outreach will be another three months in a location that has yet to be determined. This journey for me started on Wednesday night.

Airplane Mode

It took me approximately 10 minutes to meet the first YWAMer, and I don’t mean ten minutes after landing. I mean ten minutes after getting on the plane! I boarded the connecting flight to San Diego and walked down the narrow isle to seat 29F. I placed my backpack under the seat in front of me, and shortly afterwards a young couple sat next to me. I gave them a few minutes of getting settled before asking if they were visiting San Diego or if they were returning home. They informed me that they were heading home, and when they asked me, I said I was headed to Hawaii for a mission trip. I was immediately interrupted by the girl asking, “With YWAM?” I was caught off guard by the accuracy of the question. “Yes.” I said. “I did YWAM in Perth, Australia.” She replied. “But afterwards visited the base in Kona for a five weeks.”

Are you kidding me? Of all the people who could have sat next to me, it happens to be another YWAMer and one who is familiar with the Kona base!

We spent some time talking about YWAM and missions and church.  The two of them live in San Diego, but her Husband, who sat next to her, is from Massachusetts and went to Gordon, a college that I was very familiar with, as it is where my brother and many of my friends went to college.

After the conversation died down I looked out the window at the orange glow of the city lights now miles below us. The same euphoria that I always experience traveling hit me. “You can’t even wait till I land in Kona; how much more must you have waiting for me?” I prayed.

The next 12 hours consisted of Ubering around San Diego to find an authentic Californian Burrito, getting caught in a rainstorm (I didn’t know rain existed in San Diego), then tipping an off-duty airport shuttle bus to bring me to the airport. I ended the night in a moderately comfortable chair, struggling to catch a few REMs. At about 4:30am, when the kiosks opened, I walked over and checked in, getting my boarding pass. I sat back down and, noticing the man who was sitting next to me, asked where he was headed. “Seattle” he said in a thick Indian accent, “I was just at a missions conference here in San Diego.” He went on tell me his story of encountering God and the needs there are in different countries and the importance of missionaries. He soon got up and left to check his bags.

You know that feeling where you know you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be? Yup, that’s how I feel.

New and Familiar

On my flight from San Diego to Kona I sat next to a women and her father, who was a native of Kona. And as Hawaiians do so well, they graciously welcomed me to their home. The plane landed and I walked down the rolling stairs onto the tarmac. Indoors isn’t really a thing in Hawaii. I passed through some open rooms to the baggage claim where I was directed by friendly faces holding signs with what can hardly still be called an acronym: “YWAM”.

It was all so new and yet so familiar. I said hello to some people who I was instantly friends with. We only knew of one thing that we had in common, but that one thing was everything to us: to know God and make Him known.

We took the bus to the campus that I had envisioned hundreds of times before. The brown wooden buildings cover the property, leaving enough room between for concrete and cobble pathways and green areas dappled with palm trees. Birds chirp loudly and a sweet smell floats through the air. Looking down upon the base is a volcanic mountain, whose peak is constantly hidden beneath what I had initially thought to be rain clouds, but is in fact vog, a reaction from the gasses of the still active volcano. Opposite this, just beyond the beach side resorts lies the pacific ocean, who forcefully and consistantly throws itself upon the volcanic rock that covers the shore.

To avoid boring you with details, I’ll just say that the first day consisted of a brief time of checking in and a long time of Hawaiian style welcome. It was a day with a mix of being new and fascinating and yet exactly what I expected. Within hours it felt as if it were a place I had grown up. Like they say “You are Ohana (family) and this is your Hale (home).”

No Place but His Presence

There are various reasons why we travel, but one that I often see is the desire for something new, the desire for something fresh. We long for change, for excitement, for a newness that will not merely be observed, but that will be absorbed. We long for a freshness that will penetrate our perception and influence our hearts. However, as I stood in the presence of utter beauty, bathed in the glow of an immaculate sunset, surrounded by the sound of crashing waves, I found my spirit pushed up against this desire, but not satisfied. I felt not the slightest bit moved. It was as if I had stayed still while the world moved around me. Like an actor who stands on the stage while the props are shuffled around and replaced behind him. The setting may look different, but he knows that he is in the same place. And so I stood, face to face with this desire for newness, yet knowing whether it was Boston or Kona, my surroundings could not move me. Finally I turned around and went back to the base. As I walked through the campus, I saw the prayer room and entered in. Not long afterward a man, whose voice I recognized as belonging to Seth Yates, began to play the piano and sing. As he worshipped, I began to engage my heart with God’s. As simple and profound as it always is, I felt the presence of God and met the freshness I had moments earlier longed so deeply for. I saw not just a beauty that reflects and points towards a greater beauty, I experienced beauty Himself. And in Him I was satisfied.

When the deepest groanings of my heart are brought to the surface, when the heights of what this world offers doesn’t quench the longing within, I’m reminded that as cliché as it sounds, Jesus is the only one who will satisfy. And it didn’t take Him long to remind me that this trip is not about experiencing Kona, it’s about experiencing Him.

Whether we’ve never formally met, or we’ve been close friends for years, I’m sure there are many stories and experiences that I’ve yet to share with you. Therefore, I think it’s best to allow this first post to be more of an introduction.

Let me begin with a recap of the past four years which ended just last week as I walked across the stage and picked up my diploma.

Hope Deferred Makes the Heart Sick

I placed my folded clothing in the drawers and slid the last of my boxes under the bed. I said goodbye to my parents and looked around the room. Here I was, a seventeen-year-old freshmen in a dorm at Wentworth Institute of Technology.

Only a couple of months before I had been on the roof of a building in Ecuador, looking at the stars and telling God that I would go anywhere he would lead me. Going on that mission trip was the result of my life getting transformed by the love of God and feeling His passion to see every soul set free and come into relationship with Him. Now I was in Boston, but the mission was the same.

College wasn’t easy. I worked long hours, late nights, and many weekends to achieve alphabetically low letters on pieces of paper, hoping it would be worth it. Meanwhile my weary mind battled against anxiety, fear, and depression. The loneliness of college and the many failures took its toll on me. My desire to bring life to others had been severely limited by the need to find life myself. I was partially motivated but mostly discouraged by the conviction I felt for not living in the active faith that I had imagined I would. The middle ground left me spiritually exhausted, and soon the dreams that I once had were far-off concepts. I shook my head in disappointment as I looked in the mirror. I felt like I had failed God, and I knew I had failed myself.

The Art of Brokenness

The end of sophomore year was the lowest I’ve been. I remember night after night, laying on the floor of my room, crying out for God, pleading for Him to show up. Anxiety from school and the lack of seeing the presence of God in my life led to doubt and depression (Bombs going off at the nearby Boston Marathon certainly didn’t help either). I came home that summer with the sole intention of recovering.

During my retreat back home, I received a Facebook message from a high school friend who had gone to YWAM (Youth With A Mission) after he had graduated. He said that this group called Circuit Riders was having an event in Lancaster, PA, and I should go. There was no hesitation; I said yes. During that week I was awakened to a joy that I had somehow forgotten about in serving Jesus. The week-long event consisted of corporate worship, practical training, and evangelism with about 500 others. Here, as I was closer to God than I had ever been, I saw lives changed, bodies healed, souls saved, and I lived in utter freedom. I was finally living again.

I arrived home with Andy Byrd’s voice still ringing in my ears “Don’t you dare call this the pinnacle, this is only the beginning.” I so badly wanted to hang onto what I had taken ahold of that week. I so wanted to continue to live in active faith. But as I returned home, the fears crept in. They mocked my zealous heart and reminded me that I would never be able to maintain this lifestyle at school. I looked at the waves and my heart sank.

When a zealous Peter promised Jesus that he would lay down his life for him, Jesus’ response was, “Will you lay down your life for me?” Oh, how often we get the roles reversed. How often we think that our own zeal and passion is enough to carry us through.

Despite my best intentions I was back where I was the year before. I was humbled and pathetic, and it was hear that I learned the art of brokenness. I had held on with all my strength, but it wasn’t until I finally admitted my own insufficiency that God showed up. As I sat in the Justice House of Prayer with tear-filled eyelids, elbows on my knees, and hands covering my face, I repeated the long-denied words, “I don’t have it all together.” At the end of myself I found God, and he wasn’t afraid of my brokenness. Instead, he came close and told me that his love for me was not depended on my spiritual productivity; He cared far more about me than about what I could give to him. And when I let go of this false religiosity, I found a rest and abiding in God from which I could not only find life but give it.

Dreaming Again

As healing had begun in my heart, I stayed safe within the amazing JHOP community that I had recently found. My spiritual rehabilitation proceeded and I figured I would remain in this place of simply receiving God’s unconditional love (and not doing anything costly for God… at least not within the next ten years). But God has never intended us to live on the defensive or even in the security of our Christian circles. Community is good, but was never intended to lead to complacency, and rest was never supposed to look like passivity, so soon enough, often sooner that we expect, God calls us back into the radical faith that he desires for us to walk in.

The idea of going back into college ministry was not something I was too fond of. I had tried before and failed, and the mere thought of going back discouraged me. Yet somehow I found myself at a gathering they called Awake East Coast. I sat in a room with about 50 others, as Sammy and Chase, two guys I had recognized from Lancaster, shared wild testimonies of what God was doing in California. They challenged us to begin to plan for an event to throw at our schools. Immediately a sick feeling grew in my stomach. They decided to call it Let Love Arise, and it would take place in a month. They were so full of faith, but I could hardly participate. I felt like telling them, “I tried this before. It won’t work! This isn’t California; nobody will come!”

That night the worship leader led us to sing a chorus over ourselves, which went, “All my walls and my defenses fall, they fall to the ground.” As I sang these words, my spirit began to remember who I used to be. “What happened to me?” I thought. “When did I become so skeptical? When did I stop dreaming?” The words we were singing soon became my own. I could feel so strongly the ceiling on my faith, and I cried out to God to break it off. I had been so scared of failure that I had stopped hoping, out of fear that I would be disappointed again. I swallowed hard and took a breath. I said yes. It was a moment that has since then dramatically changed my life, because it was there that I dared to dream again.

The rest was easy. The next morning I woke up full of faith and told John Howard the plan. A month later we had a gathering at MIT and the following night at Wentworth. Around 50 students showed up at each event and over 20 campuses were represented. The next fall we gathered at 11 campuses over the course of 13 days with the tagline “Permission to Dream”. This past spring we partnered with Carry The Love and gathered with hundreds of college students on 8 campuses in the Greater Boston area. This fall we’re planning five training schools to further equip student to live out the kingdom of God.

It’s amazing what can happen when you simply dare to dream and step out in outlandish faith. In Habakkuk 1:5 God says, “Look among the nations, and see; wonder and be astounded. For I am doing a work in your days that you would not believe if told.” I would never have believed that what I’ve seen now could have happened. God is so ready to show up and blow our minds; I believe that He is just waiting for someone with faith enough to dream on His level and take the first step.

Next Step: The Nations

I don’t know what it is about airports, but they always give me some sort of euphoric feeling. I think it’s something about the potential that they provide, or maybe the fact that once I step on the plane I no longer have the ability to turn back. Whatever it is, I felt it. I had bought my plane ticket about two weeks prior, and was now flying across the country to join Carry The Love on the Pacific Northwest portion of their tour.

My week in the PNW was amazing. It included beautiful moments of worshipping on mountains overlooking cities, sharing the gospel on college universities, and inspiring Christians to say yes to being a love activist. But to save time there is only one story that I’ll go into, and it’s a seemingly insignificant one. When I had decided to go to the PNW I felt The Lord say to me, “What happens during the next week will show you what to do during the next year.” I wasn’t sure what this was going to mean, but it happened while five of us were in one of the cars driving across the middle of nowhere on our way to U of O. I don’t exactly remember how it came up, but as I was talking to the others in the car I said that I’ve always wanted to go to do a Discipleship Training School with YWAM. Then I had an idea: At the end of the summer I would finish classes, but would still have a semester-long internship requirement to complete. After that I would be free, freer than I’ve been in a long time, and freer than I would be for a long time after starting to work. Why not go then? When I said the idea it made so much sense. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. “Why not?” I thought to myself. I had no answer.

The door was wide open and I began to look through, half expecting it to slam in my face. I’ve stepped slowly through that door, and it has seemed like everything has lined up for me to go. So that’s the plan. From January until July I’ll be doing my DTS with YWAM. 3 months in Kona Hawaii for the lecture phase, and 3 months in a foreign nation for the outreach phase.

Being a missionary has been a dream of mine for almost five years now, and the idea of actually getting to go is breathtakingly exciting. My experiences with going and giving all to Jesus has always been paralleled with utter peace, constant joy, and abundant life. In those moments it has felt like I get to finally live out who I’ve always been made to be. It’s there that I get to lay down my life and live for something so much bigger than myself. There is still a tentativeness in me, as there always is before any anticipated joy, but as my heart starts pounding and my pulse reverberates through my chest I know it’s time to move forward.

An Invitation to Die

All of what I’ve told so far is from a perspective at which everything makes sense to me, but rarely was that the case in the moment. It wasn’t until much later in the story that I began to understand what was going on. This final section is the most recent activity and I’ve only begun to piece together all the how’s and why’s. So bear with me as I attempt to make sense of what has transpired.

I sat toward the back of my church, and felt unusually uninterested. Today Bethany Temple would talk about the history of JHOP. I’ve never been too interested in History, and this was going to be the third time I’d hear it. I sat down and began to passively listen. God tends to use the most ordinary and unexpected moments to change us the most. I hardly remember what Bethany said: a lot of the old stories I’ve already heard about the prophetic history of JHOP and of Boston, yet this time it was different. I no longer heard merely some historic facts, but I began hearing the very dream of God for Boston. I felt the invitation of God pulling on my heart to live for that dream. As the thought crossed my mind, I fought hard against it, “No. I’m going to travel. I want to move to the west coast. I want to live out my dreams and go where God calls me, which doesn’t mean stay! I want the thrill of new horizons and the excitement of fresh adventures. I’m supposed to be a missionary!” I argued, but what I felt in my spirit was unrelenting. Tears filled my eyes. “God, it’s been so hard here. I want joy. I want peace. I want to find life.” God spoke gently, “Wasn’t it so much better when you just lost your life?” “But you said I would be a missionary.” “If you stay in Boston, I’ll send you to the nations.”

So that was it. I gave in. I let my own dreams die to live for His. Yet as I loosened my grip on what I thought would give me life I began to feel a subtle peace in my heart. He was right. Life was so much better when I wasn’t living for myself or what I thought would make me happy, and it was so full when it was about Jesus and His dreams. At that point my plan of going to YWAM in Kona was over. I would stay in Boston.

There have been two callings I’ve felt for my life, the call to foreign nations and the call to college campuses. I never saw these two as intersecting, but as I’ve looked at where God has placed me, something has begun to click. As far as the prophetic history of Boston, it is said to be a stepping stone for the nations. This has become a reality through the prestigious nature of the Boston area and the many universities that are there, which gathers students from all of over the world. Perhaps the best way to reach the nations is through the universities. As I’ve pieced things together it has made sense that I should be in Boston working on college campuses. The desire to be a missionary overseas is as strong as ever, and I believe that not only will I be involving in going, but I’ll be involved in sending others and taking others with me as I go.

And what happened with YWAM? Well, slowly The Lord gave me permission to go. He showed me that through going I would further prepare myself for what I will be doing in Boston. If I’m going to be a lead a missions movement, I’m going to have to know more about being a missionary. In addition, I’ve spent the past four years leading, initiating, and inspiring, but before I continue to lead it’s necessary that I take some time to follow and let others lead me.

Or something like that. That’s my best interpretation of it. All I know is that God told me to stay in Boston, that I would be a missionary, and that I have permission to go to YWAM. I’m sure I’ll make mistakes, and I know not every choice I’ll make will be the perfect one. But God is so much more committed to seeing me live out the dreams He has for my life than I am. For me, it’s easy. My only choice is obedience to Jesus, and my only response to His invitations is “yes.”

And so begins my story. I imagine it will be as unpredictable as it has been thus far, but I am confident that it’s going to wild, it’s going to be terrifying, and as long as I can remember whose in control, it’s going to be so much fun. I’m really excited that I’m going to be able to share it with all of you, so please follow along and let’s watch how it unfolds.