A little of late

I'm camping out.
On Facebook. Waiting for someone to say something interesting for me to comment on. But apparently my friends actually have lives, so they're not updating their status as quickly as I'd like.
Maybe I should switch to Twitter.
Anyway.
I looked at my last blog post. . . the one where I freaked out a little, feeling crushed by the weight of the world. As it turned out, I think it was just the weight of my thoughts. Which feels like the world sometimes.
So many cool things have happened lately, and to utilize the word "cool" to describe them really doesn't do them justice. . . but it kind of goes with this "hippy vibe" I've been feeling lately. My days, as packed full as they are, have been quite relaxing. I've been painting a mural at my church, for their new Children's wing.
It's kind of interesting, how things seemed to have turned around so fast for me. One day, I was still kind of lost in a mood of "Pity me and my horrible life" and the next, I feel like I'm looking at the world with brand new eyes.
How could things be any more beautiful than they are now?
I have, quite possibly, the best roommates I could ever hope for. I love them both very much. They are like the family I've always needed, but never really had. Even if April doesn't always wipe up the counter after making her lunch or if Megan leaves her flip flops in the middle of the floor for me to trip on. . . I love that about them. It's quirky and imperfect and I love it. I've never been so happy to take out the trash or clean someone else's dishes before.
And I have more friends than I can count. Ones that actually DO love me and care about my mental health. Friends that give rather than take all the time. Friends that have become that "Healing Ointment" that the bible always mentions. I always wondered what God meant by that when He put it in there. Now I know. I can feel the terrible wounds of the past melting away as the antibiotic of Love is applied to my life. Sure, scars remain, but they aren't as noticeable anymore.
I have been given so much. God has poured out blessing upon blessing upon blessing on my life. So undeserved, but so welcome. I'm no longer concerned about money, because I somehow keep making it, even without a full time job. People have looked into my life and see something they want to stand behind, and so they give to my mission trip. I always wondered what it would be like if I really let Jesus abide in me. I think I'm starting to learn what that finally means. I have nearly nothing, and yet I have everything. This is the contradiction of the gospel, lose the world, and gain your soul.
I'm so glad to finally have found mine. The mirror has never been so inviting before. I have never been able to look at myself and say, "I love that person who is staring back at me." And now, I look at my reflection and say, "I have no idea who you are, but you are lovely."
I like to think that I am seeing Jesus. He looks nothing like me. For that, I am so glad.
I still wonder about the next year, and what it will bring. I am nervous, scared, excited, and torn. I don't want to leave my new loves. I still feel inadequate. I'm kind of terrified of seeing God. He is not a tame lion, after all.
I think that this year to come is something I can say that I've been waiting my whole life for. I've seen it coming, far off in the distance, but I never knew what it was before. Now that I can see that edge of the cliff, and it's time to jump off. My only question is, head first, or feet first?

Gethsemane

On the eve of Jesus' crucifixion, He went to the garden to pray.

"Gethsemane" literally means, "Oil Press."

It is no irony that I find myself here in this place.

I had an amazing day, and all of a sudden, the pressure set in. I have started to panic.

I began to imagine, if I were to die tomorrow, what would I leave undone? What would I leave unsaid? I'm probably not going to die tomorrow, but I can't tell the future. Who knows?

Jesus did. He knew what He was about to face. He knew all of the things He was about to leave behind. He had clarity of thought about what He had accomplished, because He did everything RIGHT.

And still, he panicked. The thought of the sinless becoming the sin, I believe, would be enough to make anyone panic.

I began to think, as I lay in bed tonight, of all of the things I wish I had said. All of the things I wish I had done. My life is still ahead of me. . . but is it?

So I vow to leave nothing undone, no shred of regret in my life. When I pass on, I refuse to look at my life and say, "I wish I would have. . ." but instead, I want to hear those words: "Well done, good and faithful servant." I want to be able to shout, like Jesus did; "IT IS FINISHED!"

And so I shall start, in no particular order. If I were to die tonight, these are the things that are rattling around in my head, that I want you to know.

Anna: What can I say but, I love you? I am so very grateful to God that He has allowed you in my life. You're still my hero. I can only hope to live up to a mere shadow of the reward that awaits you in heaven.

Jeanette: You really are my Prodigy. I see so much potential in you. I want you to be the leader I can look at and say: "I knew her when."

Abriel: My little sis. I hope that you grow into what I know God has in store for you. Please don't let your life be ruled by the fear of "what if's" but rather let it be ruled by the strength of "Why nots?"

Emily: I don't know why we go through these seasons and cycles. I pray that God heals you in the way I know only He can.

Amber: I've said this before, and I'll say it again. . . you have been that healing ointment that God talks about. Thank you for dressing my wounds.

April: Thank you for the peace of mind. That is worth SO much more than I can afford.

Chris: I don't even know where to start, except I can see how God has somehow turned you into an amazing man apart from Me. For that alone, I would believe in Him.

Nick: I love you so much. I wish we were closer. I'm sorry I missed out on so much of your life. Please know, it wasn't because I didn't love you.

Mom and Dad: I'm sorry things never seemed to work out.

The rest of my Family: I wish I knew how to tell you who I really was. The pressure of being the oldest kid was hard sometimes, but somehow I think it has made me better.

Shannon: I can't say anything but I'm sorry. I wish I knew how to say more.

Karen: I wish we lived closer. You have a beautiful soul, and it is worth so much more than I sometimes feel like you let yourself believe.

Megan: My newest best friend. How could I not say I love you? Thank you for being safe. Thank you for being me.

Jessie Pinder: I love you. You're beautiful and worthy of Love.

Jessica Ferrari: I just love to hug you. I know we're kindred spirits… I just don't know how.

Randall and Arinee: Thanks so much for believing in me when I didn't believe in myself. I owe a lot of my confidence to you.

My Wednesday night Girls: Your prayers and your support have been instrumental in my life. I love you!

Proskyneo: Thank you for being my muse. I've never felt so good to be an artist before.

Gina Woods: Thank you for making this mediocre high school grad feel like I have a Doctorate.

Laura Kroner: I think you may be the closest thing I have as a role model or mentor. I'm so happy for that.

Elena: Forever Friends. What more can I say? I'm sorry I had to hurt you to love you better. Thank you for saying "no."

CK: I miss you much. You still inspire me to be better than I was. I'm grateful for the year we had together. Roomies forever!

World Race "O"mega Squad: I haven't met you yet, and already, I feel so challenged, inspired, loved, and appreciated by you. I am scared out of my mind for next year, but I'm glad that I'll have you all to experience that with. Thank you for everything that I don't even know about yet.

Jesus: Oh my Lord. You have given me all of these people, and so many more. I love and cherish these friendships, and I pray that the truth I have spoken here on the internet lets others know how amazing these people are and how they have been so instrumental in bringing me to where I am today. I'm sorry for the times I've hurt them, and I'm so grateful for the times I've been able to love them. Please, let me remember these people when I'm gone next year, and let them remember me in prayer. I'm going to miss them all so much that it hurts. The reality is setting in, and I'm terrified… but I know that you have not given me a spirit of fear, so let me be strong in you Lord.

Amen.

The ministry of freedom

Is it me, or does that title sound like something from a Harry Potter Novel? (I guess it makes me think of the Ministry of Magic. . .)

But I digress.

I have always been a warrior.

For as long as I can remember, actually, and I can remember pretty far back. I was never your typical girl. I played with He-Man instead of Barbie dolls. I was the first one in any gathering of kids who would pick up a stick and pretend it was a sword. I preferred little plastic shields to security blankets. I took dance for about five years, (only so I could get a trophy on stage at the recital) and when that was over, I promptly told my parents: "I'd like to be in Karate."

There is this innate desire to fight inside me. I loved watching movies about war and violence compared to Disney's little princess epics. I played many video games where I could be the Hero who saves the day. I think that even when I was a little kid in grade school, there was something inside me that echoed the words: Fight. I'm beginning to wonder if my misplaced sense of battle led to me being the childhood bully. Justice was always sought out promptly. When someone would hurt me or my friends, or break the rules, I'd swiftly doll out justice as only a little kid can, by shoving the evil doer over into the sand box.

The fact that I was a girl never even crossed my mind.

I've always been tough, physically. Mentally, well, that's a different story, but even when I would feel the pressure of injustice in my life, whether it was against me or others, I could easily sink into the recesses of my mind, where I was the hero and where nobody could touch me. I have written so many fabulous stories upon the pages of my brain because I would spend so much time in another world.

Saving the day.

It used to always cross my mind, this idea of how abnormal I may be. I would look around and see other girls my age, interested in so many (what I thought were) frivolous things. Makeup? Hair? Boys? (well, I was interested in boys, but not the same way they were.) Those things slipped past my curiosity as I was consumed with sketching out Wolverine Comics or making up fantastically heroic tales where knights murdered dragons. (but not all dragons, some dragons were good.)

And there was that word, the splinter in my mind: Fight. Fight. Fight.

Is that normal for a girl?

Adolescence was a battlefield for me. I struggled every day to gain love, acceptance, and understanding from those around me, not limited to my friends, and especially from my parents. I just don't think anyone really knew what to do with me. I didn't know what to do with myself, really. I even left Karate for awhile, because I had burnt myself out, but it was less than a year before I was back in the dojo again. I just had to fight something. Even as a Christian, I felt myself in a war against my flesh and my spirit. Oh so many times, have I let my flesh win? They are far too numerous to count. It just seemed to be the theme of my life. I remember the first real bible study I ever went to, and as the icebreaker they went around the room and asked us: "If you could describe your life in one word, what would it be?" Do you know what my word was?

"War."

The room was kind of silent for a moment, and I recall feeling so out of place.

"Do you mean, like a world war?" The moderator asked, "Or. . ."

I could see he was struggling, so I decided to salvage him and clarify. "You know that scene, at the end of the Lord of The Rings movie, where there are the forces of darkness as far as the eye can see, and you look over to the side of good, and there's like, a handful of people?"

He responded he had.

"Like that. My life is a war like that." (Fortunately, I found out later that he really liked movies like Lord of the Rings and Star Wars, so we became friends.)

But really, who thinks that way?

For awhile, I had struggled with that part of me. I of course continued to draw my warriors, with their weapons, and their enemies, as fierce and as terrifying as I could possibly make them. I found it really gave me a connection to those wonderful boys in Bolivia. . . as they loved to look at my pictures wide eyed. "Suave, Tia, Me gusta mucho." they would tell me. (Which translates, "this is cool, I like this one.")

One day, as I was sharing my artwork at the orphanage and before I could understand any Spanish, the Orphanage Director's wife was looking at my artwork and said something.

I don't recall who translated it for me, but she had said: "You have a ministry of Freedom."

"What?" I remember thinking, and I must have voiced that out loud, because apparently she explained. Something about how I was always drawing battle, or warriors, or things fighting other things. It meant (to her at least,) that I had a ministry of freedom.

I didn't chew on that very long, because though I wondered what it meant, I didn't understand how to translate THAT into my life.

"So I have a ministry of freedom. That's great. What am I supposed to do with THAT? Join the army?" Those were some of my serious thoughts as I attempted to comprehend what truth this woman of God was attempting to speak into my life.

So I packed it away when I packed my suitcase and I left it there for awhile.

I mean, it makes total sense, really. Of course I have a Ministry of Freedom. Of course I want to fight and prevail. Of course I want to "free" something, to "bring justice" to the wicked. But how does one go about that in modern day 2oth century North American culture?

I had no idea.

Until this Thursday.

I have been leading a book study (on the book Boundaries) with a handful of other girls. Every Thursday we get together and do the cliché, sit around a Starbucks and air our dirty laundry under a Christian pre-tense. It has been a glorious thing really, but something happened this Thursday that brought a new found clarity to my "Ministry."

We were all sharing about the crap we've been through in our lives, whether it was a relationship that ended poorly, or choices we've made that shouldn't have been made, or even admitting that we feel unloved.

And it hit me, as these lovely, beautiful, talented women were sharing, that nearly EVERYTHING they have experienced, I have too, in some form or another. We've ALL been struggling. We've all been fighting.

We've all been waging a war.

And I think I've been on the front line.

I got this beautiful image in my head, of me standing there, sword in hand, eyes set upon the horizon. Waiting for the enemy to advance. For once, I realized, this is exactly where I was meant to be.

I could see the others behind me, reluctant, but ready for battle, ready to take on the demons in their lives that told them they weren't beautiful, told them they weren't worth fighting for. And as I stood there, fearless, I watched as one of them stepped forward, slowly, admitting that they were terrified, but they were willing to fight too.

And the others fell in line.

I witnessed these women, willing to fight for themselves. They were free from the fear of the horde. They sensed that freedom was just on the other side of the battlefield, and they were ready to fight.

That's when those words, the "Ministry of Freedom" rang through my head. This is what she was talking about. I had been called to fight, not just to fight but to prevail. And when I have overcome, I am to fight for the others who aren't strong enough to fight for themselves, until they too can stand upon their feet, and pull their friends along beside them.

This is what this means. I have never felt so fulfilled in all of my life before. I am watching my beloved friends become warriors, and I am loving every moment of it.

John 16:33 "These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world."

Holy Reservation

A couple of weeks ago, I got an email from Chick-Fil-A about a new "Spicy Chicken Sandwich" and how you needed to print out the email to reserve one of these delectable delights for your very own.

I didn't think much about it. After all, I've sort of had my fill of Chick-Fil-A because of the recent spirit nights, random drive through runs with my roommate Megan, and having to pick up a fireplace (long Story)

So needless to say, I didn't reserve my Spicy Chicken Sandwich, despite my love for those Cows with poor grammar and my affinity for all things spicy.

So today, I was supposed to get off of work early. I didn't, at least, not as early as I would have liked. I left early enough, however, to be able to drive ALL THE WAY OUT WEST to the mall where I had hosted one of my spirit nights two weeks ago. I rarely have ANY extra time nowadays, with all the working and fundraising and socializing I've been putting into my schedule.

Lately, I've decided that while I'm in the car, I'm going to either leave the radio off, or listen to music that I find "worshipful" or "uplifting." Today was a no music day. I try to "Pray" when the music is off, because I've found with all my extra "socializing", that I seem to have a TON of new friends, all with their own problems, issues, and what not.

How many people have I told that I would pray for them? How many of those prayers go unsaid because I forget? Feeling very convicted, I prayed all the way to Chick-Fil-A, (which is a 30 minute drive both ways) and realized that most of my prayers go something like this:

"Lord please be with So and so's uncle who is still in rehab. Please be with my Godson Lider, and all of the other boys in the orphanage. Remember my friend, who is struggling to understand what it means to have faith in you. . ."

And the list goes on. I never really know what God thinks of those two second prayers. I mean, what else am I supposed to say to Him that He doesn't ALREADY know?

As I arrive at Chick-Fil-A, I go up to the counter, expecting it to be busy because today is the day where all those people who DID reserve their "Spicy Chicken Sandwich" finally get to tantalize their taste buds. Surprisingly, there wasn't much of a crowd. So I wait in line patiently, and lo and behold, one of the kids (Katie) who I work with in youth group appears from behind the counter.

Katie, and her twin sister Hannah, work at this Chick-Fil-A part time. "Have you tried the new chicken spicy chicken sandwich?" Katie asks.

"No," I reply.

"Well it's gross. It's really spicy. Remember how they had that 'Spiciest Hot Sauce on the Planet' stuff at youth group a couple of weeks ago? And how all the boys that tried it were crying and throwing up? That's how spicy it is."

That comment makes me smile. Katie has a tendency to exaggerate. "I doubt it's that spicy," I say. However, I'm fully intrigued, because I really want to know how spicy it really is, however I watch as another customer tries to order the sandwich, and the Chick-Fil-A associate politely tells her that "We're not actually SELLING it yet. We only have enough for the people who 'RESERVED' one. Seeing as how my stomach was still full from a four seasons lunch, I wasn't all that interested anyway.

"I'm sure I'll try it in the future," I wonder aloud to Katie, who is walking up to her sister and her mom, who's there to pick them up from work.

Turns out, her mom was chatting with the Marketing Director, Angela, whom I've only spoken with on the phone. Angela was the nice woman who set up my Spirit night, so it was actually nice to put a name to a face.

We chatted for awhile, about things I certainly can't remember, though I do recall telling her about how amazing my life is. "I get to paint, play with children, and do missions. My life is fantastic." As we're talking, up walks Angela's husband, (to my shame I can't remember his name.. I think I'll call him Ray) who is holding his very own Spicy Chicken Sandwich.

After introductions, Angela quickly switches topics: "Oh Kirsten! Have you tried our new Spicy Chicken Sandwich??"

Are you kidding? "No, I haven't actually. I didn't reserve one. . ." I kind of mumble, chuckling to myself. I'm slowly convincing myself that all the hype around this sandwich is going to cause it to fall flat on its face.

"You have to try one!" she continues. "Go up to the counter and just ask for one! Or better yet, HERE. . ." she says as she takes the sandwich out of her husband's hands and thrusts it into mine.

I try to refuse. "Well, actually, I don't want to take his sandwich," (to which she answers, "He'll get another!") and "But I just ate. . ." and that's the truth. "Besides, I just started a diet with my roommates and I know they'll be upset if I sneak a sandwich. . . ."

At that point, I think I had given up and reluctantly took the sandwich I didn't really want. Simply because of the calories, and I knew I wouldn't be able to resist eating it. . . it just smelled so good.

After a few more kind words, I tote the warm sandwich, fresh in wrapper and place it next to the OTHER leftovers I had from lunch at the hotel (where I work.)

I begin driving home, and I resume my prayers. "Dear Lord, please remember my brothers. . . oh I don't even know what to say anymore." And I start over with all of the people I had promised to pray for.

Then something happened. I got really tired of praying for people. There are just so many! I began to get a little frustrated. . . my prayers became more desperate. "God, how can I possibly remember to pray for all of these people? I don't understand how I'm supposed to keep up. . . I don't understand how YOU can keep up!"

I think, what happened, is that somewhere along the highway lines I started praying for real. God began to show me my weaknesses, and began to reveal a fraction of the Love that He has for others. Somehow, he keeps us all in His hands, our lives, the lives of the people in the cars next to us. I begin to think about the severity of my sin, and I begin to thank God for choosing someone like me. I am so surrounded by His love. He gave me a freaking Spicy Chicken Sandwich. God cares enough about me to bless me with little notes of affection, things I enjoy, because He somehow finds joy in ME.

Who am I to stand in that knowledge? Who am I to stand in His stead, and preach His suffering and His salvation? Do I have the courage to take up that suffering? Do I REALLY want what I SAY I want?

And then a stark reality hit me. One of my newest and dearest friends and I had a conversation a couple of nights ago about JUST HOW SERIOUS the bible should be taken. If it REALLY is the Word of God, then SHOULDN'T we be doing what it says?? Why AREN'T we praying for the sick and then they are miraculously healed? Why AREN'T we loving our neighbor as ourselves? Why AREN'T we casting out demons?

I didn't really have an answer for her then. I think I might now. Because she's right. Why aren't we taking this Gospel, this Good news, as SERIOUS as it should be taken? We have the answer to LIFE, not just in the reality of hell, but LIFE MORE ABUNDANTLY, HERE on earth! There is a better way! Why aren't we taking hold of that and PREACHING it like there is no tomorrow? Because for some of us, there really IS NO tomorrow??

Tears began to stream from my eyes as my prayers turned into, "Dear Jesus, I love you. Please, I WANT this to be real, I don't want this to be something I just talk about. I want to know you better, I want to fast, I want to read my bible. I want to love others as YOU have loved them!! Please, make this real!"

My answer didn't come audibly, for once. Rather, it came in the form of a man on the side of the road. He had a bright yellow shirt, and was sitting on a five gallon bucket with a HUGE white sign that simply said: HUNGRY

I instantly pulled over (after a few u-turns, as I had seen him after I had already driven past) and I opened my window. Trying to keep my composure, I asked him: "How hungry are you?"

"What?" he replied.

I picked up my leftovers first to show him, and he rushed over to my car. Then I looked down at my warm, Spicy Chicken Sandwich. "What is your name?" I asked him.

"Pablo."

"Do you like spicy food, Pablo?"

"Yeah!"

"Well I have one of these new Spicy Chicken Sandwiches from Chick-Fil-A. Would you like that?"

"Yes! God bless you!"

"Do you want this too?" I held up my turkey wrap (which looks really healthy)

"Uh, no. You can keep that."

"God Bless you, Pablo."

He waved, and I was off.

My prayers turned into: "Dear Lord, please be with Pablo. Let him. . . oh I don't know. I don't know what he needs. But You do."

I didn't ever make a reservation for one of those stupid sandwiches. But apparently, Pablo had. I just didn't know it. I continued on to home, asking God to forgive a wretched soul like me, and thanking Him for doing so. I love God. To love someone is to obey them when they ask something of you. Why shouldn't I give the world up? It's so small compared to what I have already been given.

The Dichotomy Of Self

These past few weeks have been a whirlwind of activity. I have been told I needed to write more by multiple people, and I always wonder what it is they really want to hear from me.
I've been overwhelmed with so many blessings, while at the same time, I seem to be struggling with the overwhelming of my spirit as well.
I don't know what bodes so ill for me, as I can look at my life now and finally see myself in the mirror, as opposed to the wretched sinner I once was. I can truly like the person I see, and yet, I know the flesh awaits in the corner, ready to pounce.
I believe it all started with the youth camping trip, as it was the first night I got to use the tent my parents bought me. An amazing, expensive tent, with which I find no joy because I feel like my parents purchased it for me out of guilt. . . and so I wonder how many times this next year I will stare at the mustard yellow interior of that ripstop wall and hate myself for manipulating my mom and dad into purchasing this for me.
That, coupled with no sleep on a cold (nay, FREEZING) ground and muffled country music made me realize at 4am, that I will be doing this for 11 MONTHS. I can't sleep for ONE NIGHT, and I want to do this for 11 MONTHS? Falling into temptation, I realize that I can't even muster the self control I pretended to have for so many months.
Going home, looking at other World Racer photos with my new roommate, made me realize I was going to be leaving these new (and amazing) friendships behind.
Are you kidding me, God? I FINALLY feel healthy enough to actually have REAL friendships, based on Your love instead of co-dependency? And I have to leave them all behind for a YEAR?
AND IT'S ALREADY MARCH?
Who are these people that continue to sing MY praises? Don't they know who YOU are?
And today. . . after all the terrible dreams I can't suddenly seem to ignore, I watch as a man crashes on his bike in the middle of a busy intersection. He isn't moving, his head is cut and the parched concrete seems to vomit this man's life blood all over the ground.
And people just drive on by. . .
What is this life You have given me, Lord? Just a year ago, I remember crying out to You, telling you I can't, and You repeating, "I can do all things through Christ." A simple and strange Dichotomy, my life has become. I can see the Spirit move and the Flesh cower. I feel my sinful nature revolt against my soul and the war has become clearer than ever, but NEVER have the stakes seemed so high.
How I revel in my Health but how I long to return to the strange satisfaction of my shame.
Oh my Lord, please remind me that all of my hope is in you. I thirst for you, as the humility I have swallowed is as dry as the sand. Satisfy me, dear Jesus. May you be all that I need. May you shine brighter than I can ever hope to, regardless of how many matches I burn my fingers on.

My World Race Video

"I'm on a race!"
Movie? (rat race...)

anyway. Here is my promo video I made for my race. :)

Kirsten George World Race 2010 from kirsten george on Vimeo.

Godquest Synopsis

I entered a contest on www.xomba.com, which basically involves me pitching my story idea. The grand prize is a chance to talk to New York Times Bestseller Steve Alten (who wrote the book Meg and Goliath) for 30 minutes.

Second place is $200. I'd definitely settle for second.

So I am posting this here as sort of a copyright "backup plan." If someone decides to "steal my idea," besides kill them, I'm going to sue the pants off of them. I understand that may not be the best Christian perspective... but.. i'm just trying to protect myself. Meanwhile, tell me what you think!! :)

Godquest Synopsis:

Logline: Nathaniel, a devout monk of the world’s only religion, finds himself in danger of doubting his faith when his brethren turn on him, revealing a plot to subdue the world with a self fulfilling prophecy. . . . .but how do you fight an empire whose biggest pawn is a god?

Synopsis: In a war torn world where religion is law and faith is magical, a young religious ambassador named Nathaniel discovers his worst enemy may very well be his own righteousness. Suffering from re-occurring nightmares, Nathaniel quickly realizes his fears when he discovers his mentor, High Priest Trent, worshipping the very creature that plagues his dreams.

Trent quickly captures Nathaniel and has him beaten within inches of his life, and throws him out into the blizzard to die. Hallucinating, Nathaniel imagines a dark future ruled by the Religion of the Morning Star, and its dark god, a powerful, malevolent creature known only as The Unseen. As his life slowly ebbs away, Nathaniel sees four warriors, beings clothed in light, who rise to challenge the religious empire and its deity-like emperor.

Nathaniel is rescued from death, and quickly begins to search for answers and hope. As a former Ambassador, he is able to make a connection with the King of B’Ron. Unfortunately, the kingdom is on the brink of war as the princess has been kidnapped by a neighboring kingdom, and the land is on the verge of war. The king will hear nothing of Nathaniel’s plight until his daughter is safe. Desperate, Nathaniel and the Prince of B’Ron, Killian, hatch a plot to rescue the princess. Prince Killian pressures Nathaniel to lie about having discovered the IL’ Luminae, or ancient Warriors of Light, the very beings of Nathaniel had a vision of earlier.

Uncertain of how else to proceed, Nathaniel agrees to the ruse, and finds the first four able bodied people he can find to portray as heroes. Leo, an arrogant disgraced swordsman, his friend Kal who specializes in hand to hand combat and bad jokes, Lann, a self righteous healer with a habit of martyrdom, and her “brother” Slik, who appears to be treading the threshold of death’s door, agree to help Nathaniel, each with their own agenda. Leo and Kal simply want to get paid, while Lann knows it is the right thing to do. Slik simply doesn’t seem to care either way.

The situation intensifies, as the four warriors succeed in their task, above and beyond, and are instantly recruited by the King of B’Ron for more work, to Nathaniel’s dismay, as he intended the lie to end with the rescue of the princess, but when the Empire gets wind of the rumors of the IL’ Luminae, all of the forces of darkness rise up to confront this threat, and the four warriors have no idea, nor are they prepared for what awaits them.

Nathaniel then must make a decision; to turn himself in to the Religion that wants him dead, saving the lives of four innocent people, or pray to a God he’s not sure exists for their protection while he attempts to find a way to stop the Empire.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel’s sanity seems to be slipping through his fingers. . . as a small voice in his mind keeps chipping away at his resolve. . . and threatening the very peace he’s fought so hard for.

Too busy to write

It has bee a little while since my last blog post... I have simply been so busy that every time I think about writing I simply pass out. Of course, staying up to finish a last minute video doesn't help...
Christmas and New Year passed without warning.. I think it is because I went to Bolivia for Christmas, and I didn't work this New Year like I normally do. It is all so strange and alien, to me, this life of mine.
I've had many a conversation lately, with different friends, and they all have been telling me the same thing.
I talk about the things going on in my life, and as I reflect about what has happened, and how things are so different, I'm reminded about how powerful God really is.
One of my dear friends, Elena, after I had confessed how much I used to hate kids and the Latin American culture, told me, "Wow, God really did a number on you."
and then another one of my friends echoed that statement, "Kirsten, you have really come into your own. Your confidence stands out."
I love being told things like this, not because I like to think about "how awesome I am," but rather, how much God has changed me. And other people have noticed.
I used to tell people that God was working in my life, years ago, and I remember someone I used to hold in high regard tell me, "Kirsten, I feel like you're telling people that for attention." I remember how much that hurt, because I really felt like God had been working in me. Now, it is great to have people tell me they see the change, because I don't have to broadcast it to make it real.
For the first time in my life, a couple of days ago, I woke up fearless. I remember thinking, it didn't matter what I did, or how little money I made doing it, because I KNEW this was exactly where I was supposed to be. The future is still uncertain, but I am no longer afraid of it. If anything, I'm excited. I'm excited that God thought enough of me to continue working on me, to not give up when I wanted to.
We can totally change the world when God is involved, because He's so capable of changing OUR world.

Where are you going with this?

Well I've probably already told you where I'm going. . . I'm going to Ireland, Israel, Egypt, Ukraine. . .

Oh wait, That's not what you meant.

It has only been about two months since I've started this "World Race" thing. . .and already the doubts are setting in. The worst part, I don't even think they're my doubts. It started with a conversation last night with the Youth Pastor at my church. Basically, he asked me where I'm going with this whole "World Race" trip. He has a legitimate claim to ask those things, too, because he's the pastor that oversees the missions funds at my church. I am guessing, he had to ask me those hard questions to ensure my church wouldn't be "wasting God's Money" (not his words, mine) if they decided to support me on the Race. Then it ended with a conversation with one of my roommates, when she said, "To be honest, I think you're going on this trip for yourself. I am certain that God will use it to change your life though."

So why can't I get past the whole, "You're wasting money, you're doing this for yourself part?"

I was perfectly fine when no one questioned me. I had no doubts. And now, when confronted by people I hold in high regard, I am suddenly asking questions of myself.

Such as, "Is this a responsible use of my donor's money? Is this a responsible use of MY money? Am I going on this trip because I just want a 'vacation'? Am I going on this trip because I have NO IDEA WHAT I WANT TO DO WITH MY LIFE and so I'll just put the future off for a little bit while I think about it? Am I really just doing this for ME, and not for God? I've already admitted that I didn't pray about this decision when I filled out the application, so will I be reaping the benefits of what I sow by not listening to God's will? What are the chances that I will look back on month 11 and say, 'What a complete waste of a year'?"

And other questions like that. They are swirling around in my mind like a tempest, slowly growing louder, threatening to drown out all the confidence I had in myself to live up to God's potential. Maybe I should just quit now, while I, (and my potential donors) still have money in their pockets during this economic recession.

After all this happened, I was driving to Boynton to help a friend bake cookies so she can raise money for HER mission trip. I believe in her. I wondered if anyone would do the same thing for me. I wondered if anyone would believe in me.

Then a song came on the radio. It's a song that I've already claimed as my "World Race" theme song. Here are the lyrics:

Lord I want to feel your heart
and see the world through your eyes
I want to be your hands and feet
I want to live a life that leads

ready yourselves
ready yourselves
Let us shine the light of Jesus in the darkest night
ready yourselves
ready yourselves
May the powers of darkness tremble as our praises rise
Until the whole world hears Lord we are calling out
Lifting up Your name for all to hear the sound
Like voices in the wilderness we're crying out
as the day draws near
we'll sing until the whole world hears

Lord let your sleeping giant arise
Catch the demons by surprise
Holy nation sanctified
Let this be our battle cry

we'll sing until the whole world hears
we'll sing until the whole world hears

Want to be your hands and feet
Want to be a life that leads
To see you set the captive free
Until the whole world hears
and I pray that they will see more of you and less of me
Lord I want my life to be the song You sing
Until the whole world hears Lord we are calling out
Lifting your name up for all to hear the sound
Like voices in the wilderness we're crying out
as the day draws near
we'll sing until the whole world hears
we'll sing until the whole world hears
we'll sing until the whole world hears
we'll sing until the whole world hears
we'll sing until the whole world hears
we'll sing until the whole world hears

During that song, tears streamed down my face, yet they were not tears of defeat. They were tears of empowerment. Who cares if people doubt me? Who am I to I doubt myself? There is a world out there that doesn't know You, that doesn't understand how love can somehow overcome pain and poverty. There is a world who is dying to hear some good news. DYING.

Who believes in me? God believes in me. I don't know how, I don't know why. He is where my confidence lies. He is bigger than money or doubt, recessions or fear. He is bigger than me. He's bigger than my roommate. He's bigger than my youth pastor.

And He is with me.

I will fight this thing out, and even if it turns out that this was not His will for me at this time in my life, for much like Jacob in the desert, I will know that I have wrestled men with God, and I will overcome, because I'm not about to let Him go until he blesses me.

Why everyone shouldn’t go to heaven.

This Blog post will make you angry.

I was standing in a stadium, singing at the top of my lungs. Some of my closest friends were with me, and we were all enjoying a concert with overtly "Christian" music. Me and my friends were dancing, shouting, having a glorious time, since we had just worked six hours and were enjoying the fruits of our labor. The free concert wasn't quite as good as last years, (how can you top a Family Force Five, Relient K and Toby Mac Concert? The answer is, you can't.) However, there were spurts of greatness, such as watching the three uber-talented Barlow Girl Sisters tear up their instruments, or feeling my vocal chords rip as I sang Casting Crown's "Until the whole world hears" as loud as I could, regardless of who's ears I may have offended.

Jeanette nudged me and tilted her chin towards my right. "Talk about a lousy date." I looked over, and there sat a young girl, around 23ish, holding her cell phone in a vice grip. Her brow was furrowed and her arms crossed, and she was tapping her foot impatiently. Her body language was that of a person who "Had better things to do."

"She's not having fun, is she?" Jeanette said.

"Hmm." I thought. Consequently, I looked behind me, remembering something I had saw earlier. A man sat about four rows behind us with a scowl so cold it could bore a hole in an iceberg. Bordering on a sneer, he sat there defiantly, looking like someone had handcuffed him to an electric chair.

"Neither is that guy," I mentioned. "He looks miserable... " and that's when it hit me.

"Jeanette. This is why everyone shouldn't go to heaven." I began to explain my theory, or attempted to shout it over the music.

One of the biggest arguments against God's existence is, "How can God really be all loving and still allow people to go to hell?"

One of the rebuttals I always used was, "Why would God, who is all loving, FORCE a person, who wanted NOTHING to do with Him on earth, to HEAVEN, a place where God's will is ETERNALLY done?" The point is, these people, who were probably dragged to this concert by a believing boyfriend or someone else, are miserable. They didn't want to be there. The rest of the people there were worshipping God with their voices, lifting him up in song, enjoying being in the presence of His Holy Spirit and other believers who are considered "family."

If these people were this miserable here, how much more miserable would they be in heaven? Even if heaven is the better alternative?

Now don't get me wrong. I do NOT want anyone to go to hell. I would PREFER if we all were like minded and worshipped God, and I know for a FACT that is God's point of view. 2 Peter 3:9 says: "The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance." But the reality is, there are people who don't want anything to do with God. It's mere fact. So why would God give someone free will, to allow them to do WHATEVER they want to in this life, only to FORCE them to obey and worship Him in the next?

I don't think He would. He loves us perfectly, and therefore being the gentlemen that He is, would rather respect our wishes to want nothing to do with Him. He's not going to force Himself on anyone. And if He did, what kind of a God would He be? Who wants to worship a God who engages in a form of spiritual rape? I wouldn't want to worship that type of Deity.

And I bet you wouldn't either.

The Sin of Satan

One of the best things about reading my bible is that the more I do it, the more things seem to leap off the page right into my brain. Now, this isn't an everyday occurrence, I'm quite ashamed to admit that I'm not a frequent reader. So please don't think that I'm attempting to prove I'm "Holier than Thou". . . rather, I read something today that I would really like to share.

Going through the first chapter of 1 Corinthians, I came to this little verse that says: "For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of god. (Verse 18)

Then I read a little further and verse 21 says: "For since, in the wisdom of God, the world through wisdom did not know God, it pleased God through the foolishness of the message preached to save those who believe" (emphasis added)

And THEN verse 27-29: "But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to put to shame the things that are mighty; and the base things of the world and the things which are despised God has chosen, and the things which are not, to bring to nothing the things that are, that no flesh should glory in His presence."

Can I rewrite that, the way I understood it? (Bear with me. My thoughts will be in parenthesis)

Verse 21: For since, in the wisdom of God, the world through wisdom (science, philosophy, post-modern thought etc,) did not know God, it pleased God through the foolishness of the message preached (that being, the last shall be first, whomever wants to be greatest should be least… etc.) to save those who believe"

And Verses 27-29: "But God has chosen the foolish things of the world (High school drop-outs) to put to shame the wise, (those with Doctorates) and God has chosen the weak things of the world (sick and hurting) to put to shame the things that are mighty (Olympian athletes); and the base(normal, insignificant) things of the world and the things which are despised (people you hate, or the people you wouldn't have picked for your team in P.E.) God has chosen, and the things which are not, (the "things which are not" can be anything, like say, someone who can't talk because they are mute. Technically, their "Voice" is "Not" )to bring to nothing the things that are, (people who CAN speak would find themselves speechless if that mute person "Suddenly" began to speak) that no flesh (human) should glory in His (God's) presence."

That last verse, Verse 29, is what really struck me. I think all of us humans, especially Christians, struggle with the idea of Sin. What is it, exactly? We know that Sin is bad. We know that Sin is something we shouldn't do. We know that Sin separates us from God.

But Why?

Why is God so upset about sin in the first place? Is it really that bad to tell a little white lie? Is it so wrong to sleep with someone if I love them? It's my body anyway, why shouldn't I be able to choose whether or not I want to keep my baby? And for goodness sake, how dare you persecute me because I happen to like the same sex!

These things seem rational to us. Why is that Killjoy God so concerned about it? Why is it SO important for us to follow HIS plan if we want to be saved from Hell?

It's because of Satan.

Now, I'm not giving Satan ALL the power here, and by NO MEANS do I claim that the "Devil made me do it" argument is even liable. As far as I know, the devil can't MAKE you do anything, rather, he can seductively suggest which option to choose, and when we choose poorly, well, that is of our own decision. So when I say that this issue is because of Satan, I only mean to say that the reason we even have sin in the first place is because of Satan. Sure, Adam and Eve (unless you're an evolutionist) sinned in the garden of Eden when they chose to eat from the tree that God told them not to eat of. But wasn't Satan there? In the guise of a serpent? Suggesting that they might become like God if they eat the fruit? Wasn't the whole reason that Satan was trying to subjugate God's plan because HE had already sinned and was cast from heaven?

So what was Satan's Sin?

Pride. Satan had become too proud. Satan began to look at himself and his beauty and glory, and decided that he too, should be worshiped like God. I don't think that Satan really wanted to overthrow God as King (at least in the beginning,) rather, Satan merely wanted worshippers of his own, because he felt he was entitled to such. So God did the only thing God could have done. God stripped Satan of his glory by casting him down. After all, how do you deal with pride except by taking away EVERYTHING that makes one proud? If you are proud of your healthy body, can't it be maimed with cancer? If you are proud of your superior intellect, can't it be brought to shame with dementia?

So herein lays the significance of my musings. Sin is Pride. Pride is Sin. They cannot be separated from each other. They CAN be used as synonyms when referring to that which separates us from God. God's glory is HIS ALONE. Whether Satan wanted to share it or steal it, makes no difference. Satan wanted Glory, and that is not okay. Enter Adam and Eve. What did Satan tell them? Genesis 1 verse 5 says that Satan told them: "For God knows that in the day you eat of it (the fruit) your eyes will be opened, and you will be LIKE GOD, knowing good and evil."

So Eve took the fruit and she ate it in her pride, that being Satan's pride, thinking she might become like God. To Glory in her flesh. And what happens? As soon they eat, they feel ASHAMED! The opposite of PRIDE is SHAME! God immediately stripped Adam and Eve of the pride they had in their flesh by making them feel ashamed because they were naked.

And so on through the Bible. It was Pride that made Cain kill his Brother Abel, because God chose Abel's sacrifice as a more pleasing sacrifice. There you have murder. David took another man's wife, because as King, in his PRIDE he felt he had the right to do so. Adultery. Joseph's brothers sold him into slavery because their PRIDE couldn't see the truth in his dreams. Pick a Sin. I guarantee that you can trace it back to pride.

We lie because the truth in a situation may make us look bad. We engage in premarital sex because we feel we should have the right to express our love in whatever way we feel is correct. We kill our babies because, we're too proud to admit we made a poor decision and so, it is better to be "rid" of the consequences then to deal with them. And of course, how dare you tell someone homosexuality is wrong, regardless of how even the laws of nature, (two boys can't reproduce offspring, regardless of science, the very idea of survival of the fittest contradicts homosexuality) stand against it.

So what does that tell us? We have bought into the "Sin of Satan," that being pride. The bible goes so far to tell us, that we who sin are of "Our Father" the devil, (1 John 3.. just read the whole thing), because we have partaken of HIS sin, the sin of pride. I'm sure, that if Satan had sinned in some other way then we would have also partaken in that other sin as well. (I can't even describe that thought to you, because Satan's only sin is pride, and therefore all of our sin is a derivative of pride, so I can't even think of another way to sin.. For instance, if Satan had sinned by BLARTHKAB (a made up word) then all of our sin would be a derivative of BLARTHKAB also. . .does that make sense?) It is our pride that keeps us from God, because we say that OUR way is better than His, and OUR wants are greater than His wants. For that, God sees us, as we sin, as terrible as Satan, and therefore, those who do NOT submit themselves to God's supreme Lordship are PUNISHED the same way that Satan will be punished. Matthew 25:41 says: "Depart from me, you cursed, into the everlasting fire prepared for the DEVIL AND HIS ANGELS."

Humans were NEVER supposed to be punished, we were supposed to share in the eternity of God's glory and goodness, but because we BOUGHT INTO the sin of Satan, we have also bought into his punishment. Those who do not choose God's way of forgiveness, that being the death of Jesus on the cross, have counted themselves as TOO PROUD to have to "Believe in such foolishness" (1 Corinthians 1:18.. see above) and therefore have condemned themselves because they chose to rather "Glory in their flesh" (1 Corinthians 1:29) much the same way Satan gloried in his.

Of course, don't take my word for it. By all means please read those verses in their complete context and come to your own conclusion. I just wanted to share mine.

What it takes to lead

I have a friend. Her name is Jeanette. She just recently graduated from college last year from Palm Beach Atlantic University in West Palm. I've known her for about 4 years now (wow, has it been that long??) and I met her because we both work for the same company.

Anyway, we've been pretty decent work friends for these past four years. I think she's a pretty cool person, and I've always wanted to get to know her better, but because she's been so busy with College, RA-ing, work, and other. . .It has been difficult to get to know her better.

And then she graduated. And then work slowed down. So we've gotten to hang out a little bit more, and because of that I've noticed a trend.

She's a great leader. A fantastic leader. People immediately pay attention to her when she speaks. She can light up a room with her contagious laughter. She has SO MANY friends from PBA that I've lost count. She says "BONFIRE FRIDAY" and people jump, with lighter fluid and fire extinguishers in hand. It has been really impressive to watch.

The most interesting encounter happened the other day as I asked her to help me raise money for the World Race. She said yes. And I asked her if she thought her friends would be willing to help too. She said "Totally!" with such enthusiasm that it really surprised me. "I don't have any money Kirsten, but I'm TOTALLY willing to help!"

"That's so cool Jeanette," I remember saying. And I mean it. It's so cool that she's willing to help me. I mean, we're friends and all, but I didn't think that we were good enough friends to merit such enthusiasm.

That's when I started to think about it. . . Jeanette is a great leader because she's willing to follow.

Look at all the references to leadership in modern culture, and you will usually find something along the lines of how, "A Leader should be willing to take charge, to step up and command attention." But if you look at the Bible, it says the exact opposite. All of the great leaders in the Bible were considered great because they were willing to follow God's command. Jesus was the ultimate example of that. He said, "I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you," (John 13:15) RIGHT after He got done washing the disciple's feet. He set the ultimate example of what a true leader is, and because none of us can ever be greater than our Master, we can only hope to follow close enough in His footsteps that we can point others in that right direction. Our lives are supposed to point to our Leader, Christ, the firstborn of God and firstborn from the dead. We are to follow Him, and in turn, Lead by example so that others may follow us.

Jeanette was completely willing to put her agenda aside to "follow" me, by helping me raise funds. Her friends will do the same, putting aside their agendas to "follow" her. It's like we're playing one big game of "Follow the Leader," where our Leader is Jesus.

I am humbled that Jeanette would be willing to help me, like I should deserve such favor. I can only pray that I can learn from her example.

"I found an alligator on the side of the road and I took it home and fed it to my dog. . ." (That was for you jetty. J )

The Cost of Priceless

I've been very busy lately. Which is a good thing. I've been so blessed by God recently, and I know I'm on this spiritual high that won't seem to quit. Every time I get the chance to use my talents for the Glory of God's kingdom, it sends supernatural jolts through my system that ignites that fire within. Which, I know you'd understand this, is why I want to use them more.

I realized though, that there is a wrong way to utilize your talents for God, and that is, using them out of His timing. A little while ago, when I first got into doing paintings on stage, I remembered trying to "push" myself onto other people. I tried to use my talents to make money, and regardless of whatever spin I put on it, the efforts seemed doomed to fail. People keep telling me that I'm worth money, that my talents aren't to be taken lightly. Although I struggled with that at first, I am learning to see the value of what God has given me, and so I don't want to sell myself short.

However, I don't want to sell out either. Attempting to prostitute my talent away is only going to lead to it being taken away from me. Yes, I shouldn't just "give" my art away. Yes, my time and my talents are "worth" something. Yet, I can't help but feel bad when someone asks me "How much do you want for your paintings?" and I squirm on the inside because although I know I am worth something, I can't bring myself to ask that of other people. Maybe it's because I know that people can never pay me the "worth" of what my God has given me.

That old verse, "Freely you have received, so freely give" (Matthew 10:8) continues to run through my mind. My talent, painting to the images God gives me, because of His Spirit who lives inside me, because His Son who died to give me that Spirit, tell me, how can one put a price tag on that?

That which is priceless, should be free.

So when I finally came to that conclusion, I realized that I couldn't charge for a ministry. I SHOULDN'T charge for a ministry. I was standing there in a Night of Worship, seeing flashes of God's Glory, and I felt so compelled to paint. Yet there I stood, in the crowd, because that is where God met me. At the end of the service, I met with the Worship Pastor, and I told him that I wanted to paint at the next worship night, free of charge. He smiled and assured me that I could. I have yet to do so, but I truly believe it was that moment, where I was willing to submit myself and my talents to God's use, for FREE, was where God began to bless me.

Since that moment, I've had people call me to come and paint for them, instead of the other way around. First stop was Palm Beach Atlantic, Night with the artists. What an amazing opportunity it was, to both share my heart and to minister to people, as I really do love those college kids. They make me feel super young.

Because of that venue, I actually made another contact with an amazing woman of God known as Cindy Stewart. Turns out, she was looking for a Speed Painter to come and minister at the Women on Fire conference at Lakeview Church in Tampa. A friend of hers, Julie Hendricksen, (whose daughter, Jenny, I went to Bolivia with last March) saw me at the PBA event and mentioned me to Cindy. Wow. With God as my Marketing Manager, how can I go wrong?

The conference was an amazing spirit filled time of worship and refueling. Cindy and everyone involved were so gracious to me and bent over backward to bless me. When I was packing my things up to leave, Cindy told me, "I'll be giving your name out to everyone I know." I can only imagine what that means.

This month, I have at least two more opportunities to share my talent with the community around my house. I keep making contacts right and left, of people who have either heard of me, have a friend who knows me, or even people who have "Googled" my name. As a result, the money I owe for my latest mission trip, the World Race, is quickly being diminished. How amazing is that.
If God keeps giving me opportunities, I will keep painting. Even if He decides to stop allowing me to make money by using my talents, I will keep painting. It only seems right, after all. I have been told that my paintings bless people. I will not let what the world considers success to keep me from doing so. I just enjoy it too much.

How to change a heart

I had a dream last night. I don't remember quite the details about it, except that I was homeless.
I was sleeping on the ground, outside of a business, (possibly a starbucks) clothed in a dirty jacket. I remember pulling my arms tight around my body, because it was so blasted cold out.
In front of me, I had a little purple water bag (something that I actually use in real life to paint with.) and people were shoving money in it. Tons of people walked by, and they all would reach down and shove $1, $5, and even $10 bills in the bag. I remember peeling back my eyelids to peek at the bag. It was overflowing.
I briefly recall waking up and beginning to count the money. I had wool gloves with the fingers cut out, and I remember the bitter cold air accosting my senses as I counted my cash.
Then I woke. I think it was because my roommate's alarm clock went off, (because it's SO LOUD I can hear it from her room, even with her door shut) but instantly tear began to well up in my eyes.
I don't know what it was, but when I woke up, I had overwhelming feelings of sadness. Maybe it was because I knew that the dream wasn't true. How many of us would shove bills into a homeless man's cup? They hardly ever have money overflowing in their cups. Maybe it was the sensation of knowing that if I didn't make enough money that day I would go hungry. Or knowing I'd have to sleep on the ground again, in the cold.
I can tell you, for a few waking moments in the night, I was homeless. I was terrified. I completely believed that I was one of the forgotten ones, and I remember thinking, "what happened? Where did I go wrong?"
Wiping the tears from my eyes when I woke, I realized it was a call to empathy. For many years, I've prayed to God about giving me compassion, filing me with empathy for those people who are hurting, because I knew I didn't have any.
I believe, last night, God answered those prayers. I knew what it was to be homeless, hungry. Dirty. Forgotten.
Yes, it was just a dream, you might say. I woke up today in a warm bed with money in my bank account. I even went to Starbucks this morning. But I felt the terror of wondering if my belly would stay empty.
We often ask ourselves, (or at least I do,) about how God might go about changing a person's heart. I used to doubt that He would do it instantaneously, and if He did, I wondered what that might be like. If I prayed for Him to change my heart, would He IMMEDIATELY reach down and grasp my being and twist it to His will? What would that feel like?
Well, now I know. God knows how to change a heart. Be careful what you pray for.

A Love not forgotten

"Yet I hold this against you: you have forsaken your first Love. Remember the height from which you have fallen! Repent, and do the things you did at first. If you do not repent, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place." Revelation 2:4-5

How far I had fallen.

I knew it too, because I just couldn't get into reading the Bible anymore. Nor could I pray to God at length, because I had simply run out of things to say. I remembered what it was like when I first had surrendered my life to God. It was a glorious feeling, even when those kids in my 8^th grade journalism class made fun of me when I told them I had become a Christian. They laughed so hard and my heart broke inside. My parents, even, became very upset with my Aunt, because they felt like my Aunt had somehow "collected" me into her cult, that being the Cult of the Nazarine.

I really didn't care. I remember feeling alive, and passionate about what I had chosen to believe in. I would read my Bible every night and pray for what felt like hours.

And now, I struggle to remember that passion. Jesus' Love had been so forgiving, so complete, so new that I felt like my heart had been thrown into the darkest of thunderstorms only to be juggled by a constant flow of lightning. It was glorious. It was hard, and it hurt, but it was glorious.

I haven't been this excited in a long time. Nothing has made me this eager in so many years. I've taken many trips, been to many different places on missions, and even left my heart in one. Yet there is something about this trip, the World Race, that has electrified my soul to the point of feeling like the edges of my being have been singed from getting too close to the fire. I continually pray to God for wisdom and favor. The moment I feel as if I have nothing to do, my mind remembers my bible instead of the TV remote. I hear about amazing things happening around the world, like my Church's mission trip to Columbia, where people are being HEALED and DELIVERED from demonic forces, and I so eagerly want to experience that for myself.

I've even wanted to fast. Wanted to fast. Anyone who knows me knows how much I love food. I've NEVER wanted to fast in my ENTIRE life. And now it is something I want to partake in, almost like new hobby. "Oh you like to knit? Well I like to fast in my spare time." Who does that?? To be perfectly honest, I have yet to do so… but I know it is only a matter of time.

I hope this isn't a fad. I hope and pray that I have remembered my first Love. . . one that I know will never return empty. I hope that this fire has been replenished with heavy logs of oak rather than a quick douse of gasoline.

What does a lampstand do, anyway? It burns and gives off light. If our lights die out, why should we expect God to keep us where we are when we are doing no good to Him? If we are not illuminating the darkness, then we have merely become a part of it. Darkness consumes everything unless a light is manifest. Then the darkness must flee because it cannot overcome the light. It's simple Physics people.

So with that, I encourage you. . .find the romance again. If you're feeling like the Love has run out of your relationship with God. Rekindle that flame. I don't know how to do that for you, it's something you're going to have to figure out on your own. But find the excitement again. Then never let it leave.

Oh ye of little faith.

"Why did you doubt?"

I feel like Jesus asks us all that at one point or another. Doubt is an integral part to our lives as fallen humans, so much so that religions are built upon it. I can see why Peter doubted that night on the Sea of Galilee. He was walking on water, defying the very laws of nature itself to take a step of faith. How poor Peter gets a bad rap. At least he had the faith that Jesus could pull him back out, because that's the first thing he cried out when he began to sink.

"Lord! Save me!" (Matthew 14:30)

My doubts are so much shallower than Peter's. If I were to get out of the boat, for instance, I'd probably only sink up to my knees until I hit the ground. Yeah, I had the courage to get out of the boat and try walking on water, but how deep was my faith really? What good would it be for Jesus to save me from knee deep water?

And therein lays my problem. I don't give Jesus enough credit. I don't give Him NEARLY enough of a chance to show His glory. I rob Him of it by only trying to tread upon pond deep water.

I was talking about the World Race to some friends of mine at church, one of which happened to be the Youth Pastor's wife. She's a few breaths older than I am, but I have always valued her insight and wisdom. Interestingly enough, when she found out I had applied to the World Race, she told me about how her sister-in-law's sister was doing the same thing. We got into a very interesting conversation about raising funds, and she told me about how all the stuff I needed to bring (like the backpack, sleeping bag, pillow, tent. . . etc…) cost around $500 alone.

I was shocked. "Are you kidding? Where am I going to get the money to pay for all of that?"

She continued her story about how her sister sister-in-law (that's a fun title) went to a backpacking store to look at all of the stuff she needed to get, and how when she got to talking to the lady that worked at the store, the sister-sister mentioned what she was doing.

Apparently, the worker at the store told her she could borrow all of her supplies for the trip.

I was even more shocked. "WOW. That's amazing. God is so good." Then I huffed, "It must be nice."

Did you catch that? I completely short changed God. I was willing to praise Him for somebody else's experience, and then INSTANTLY doubted that anything like that could ever happen to me. Even as we continued to talk about the trip, my mind was still wondering, "Where am I going to get all this stuff? I may be able to borrow a backpack, or a sleeping bag, but what about the rest of it?"

So when my application had been accepted, one of the first things I looked at was the packing list, and one of the second things I did was put up a link on my Facebook asking if anyone had a backpack I could borrow. No takers, but my aunt did offer to buy me one. I told her I'd have to do some more research on what I want before I let her do that.

Even with the buzz of excitement, I still doubted that I would be able to get my hands on cheap equipment.

Then I came home, and started chatting with my roommates about the day. One of my roommates, (a lovely girl known as Leah, whom I went to Zambia with in 2005) perked up and said, "Hey, I have a backpack you can borrow, from when I went to. . ."

"INDIA!" I shouted. I had forgotten Leah had backpacked around India the year before I met her. YET EVEN THEN, I doubted, thinking, "I'm sure her backpack is nice and all, but I don't think it's what I'm looking for." Sure enough, she trudged upstairs and when she came back down, I felt like my eyes were going to fall right out of their sockets.

She was holding the most gorgeous, navy blue, slightly used, internal frame backpack I had ever seen. "See? I think this might help. And I even have this. . ." for the next fifteen minutes, she proceeded to pull out her supplies. She has a 20 degree thermal sleeping bag, a sleeping pad, an inflatable pillow, and even a HEAD LAMP. A flipping head lamp. One that has red lights too for hiking at night. I threw my arms around her neck, and nearly kissed her.

That's when I heard Jesus say: "Oh ye of little faith. Why did you doubt?" I totally undercut God's provision for me because I didn't think I was worth it. I was wading in the shallow water when all the while He was beckoning me to come tread upon the deep.

I suppose that if we didn't have doubt, we wouldn't know what faith really is. Sometimes, I wonder if it is worth expressing our doubts so we can see His glory shatter them. I so hope I remember this lesson. His deep calls to deep have taken on a whole new meaning to me.

What in the world was I thinking?

At least, that's what I was thinking when I got done filling out my world race application.
I suppose I should back up a bit... in small group we were reading the book "In a pit with a Lion on a Snowy day" (which I recommend every Christian should read) and in my own personal time I've been reading "Four Souls", which is a story about four guys who took their own personal trip around the globe to minister to different places (which I recommend every Christian MISSIONARY should read) . . . (consequently, I'm also reading Brisingr, in case you were wondering.) but I digress..
Anyway, those books seemed to fuel this little fire I've had inside me since I came home from another great (but not glorious) summer in Bolivia. I really feel God has called me to missions, and so I've been putting my little "feelers" out there, attempting to find something to do or somewhere to go. Everything I've looked at has ended up with a resounding door slam and God saying (audible at times) "Wait. Just Wait."
Arrgh. Groan. And then the inevitable sigh as I acquiesce.
However.
The fire flared as I finished reading "In a pit with a Lion," as the last words in the book are: "Maybe its time to start chasing God again. Maybe its time to seize God-ordained opportunities. Maybe its time to unleash the lion chaser within. Chase the lion! Its what you are destined to do."
I kid you not, I literally put the book down, picked up my laptop, and googled "Free Mission Trips."
I know missions cost money, but I don't have any. I just wanted to get out and serve.
One of the links said: "Free World Race", which I thought looked interesting. So I clicked on that. It took me to the World Race website, which I admit, reminded me a little bit of that show, "The Amazing Race" on tv. Turned out, the FREE part of that link had to do with winning a free ticket into the World Race in 2006, so that was over and done with. Yet my interest was already peaked, so I kept looking.
Mission trip? Yes. 11 countries? Wow. 11 months? BIG WOW. Next team was leaving in January, and the application had to be completed by October 15th.
I looked at the date. It was October 14th.
Without thinking at ALL, ashamedly without praying, I completed the application and even paid my $39 application fee, praying it wouldn't be for naught.
So far, it hasn't. I've had a few unusual things happen since then, such as it seems that everyone I know, KNOWS someone who is either ON the World Race currently or someone who has been or going. Even a guy in my small group went last year.
WHAT? How did I miss that little tidbit??
The day after I filled out my application, I kid you not, I got a fortune cookie, and inside the fortune said: "Wish you a good journey." Wow.
I don't believe in coincidences, have I shared that yet?
I even had an especially frustrating moment, where I was sitting in my kitchen, waiting for the World Race crew to call me for my interview, and as the time came and passed without a phone call, I remember crying. I heard God say, "This isn't it." And instead of fighting Him this time, I was like, "Fine Lord. Then what? What would you have me do? I'm ready, I'm willing, I'm able, so what?"
The next day I was graced with two emails from the World Racers, telling me they've scheduled TWO phone calls at different times. I was really confused. "I thought you said this wasn't it?" I asked God. He responded with a feeling of "I just wanted to see if you were willing to give it up if I told you no."
So here I am. I've been accepted to go on the June 2010 World Race. I have no idea what that means yet.
But I'm starting to find out.

Smack Talk

I have found lately that I talk an awful lot.
I was at art night last night with some friends and some new friends, and afterward I realized that I had said a whole lot.
When I'm getting to know people, Christians specifically, I find that I speak in great lengths about grand things. Things that have happened in my life, Christian things specifically. I find I don't mind sharing my past, what I have gone through, the cool things I have done and stuff like that.
I also seem to have no problem spouting "Christian" wisdom, or the equivalent of what could pass as such, and at the very least, my opinion in the form of what's wrong with our world.
I have no problem "sounding" wise or pretending that I'm smarter than I actually am. I have no issue with being passionate about social ills of the world, the United States, and formulating solutions that would CLEARLY fix ALL the problems on the planet.

Why do I do that?
When all is said and done, do I really live up to my smack talk?
Or if you prefer "Christian-ease", do I "Walk The Talk?"
I'm not so sure. I know what I am in my head, I know the sins I still struggle with and I know the "BS" that I spout. Not that I do it on purpose, I fully believe the things that I say and what I am passionate about. But I wonder, is it just me, or does everyone feel the same way? Does everyone come off of a conversation feeling like they've just attempted to "BS" their way into heaven?

The Bible tells us at the end of time, that we will give an account for "EVERY idle word." We will have to explain to God everything we meant when we said what we said. How discomforting.
I understand why God speaks in a still small voice, and when I get so loud I run the risk of drowning Him out. Maybe I should be less concerned with sounding good and just let my actions scream.

A choice

I was sitting in the drive through teller at my bank this afternoon. As she counted the multiple dollar bills I had just given her, (don't get the wrong idea, they were just tips from painting at the zoo the past weekend) a random man with a backpack came wandering up to the drive through and started talking to the lady inside.
I couldn't quite understand what he was asking, but the look on the teller's face was very, well, telling.
She kind of rolled her eyes and smirked. I can only imagine what my face was saying, because she shortly told me, "He wants you to cash his check."
I looked over at the man, who kept mumbling something over and over. Finally I heard him say it, "I'm homeless. They won't cash my check at Publix, and I need the money for the bus."
As the thoughts began racing through my head, I knew that I was faced with a choice. I could cash his check for him, and give him the money, but if the check came back, I would be faced with a $25 fee.
The teller explained this to the man, and the man quickly protested "It won't come back! It's a money order! My dad sent it to me! I have a letter. . ."
The man continued to babble on, as I knew that shortly the teller would be done with my transaction and I'd drive away, to leave this man cashless.
I rolled down my window and asked him to see the money order. "I'll give you two dollars to cash it. I'm homeless. I need the money to get to where I'm staying tonight."
I looked at the money order in my hands. It was only made out for $20. Less then my check bounce fee.
I didn't even have the time to pray about it. I just had to make a decision.
"I'll cash his check." I said to the teller, who looked a little incredulous.
As she finished the transaction, I looked at the man and told him, "You don't have to pay me two dollars. I'm doing this because I believe in Jesus and I know He loves you."
What a stupid thing to say. Seriously, I couldn't come up with something better? I'm horrible at sharing the gospel.
Nevertheless, the man told me he believed in Jesus too. I couldn't really think of anything else to say.
"I just need the money to get to my church. I owe them $15. Thank you so much."
I grabbed the wad of dollar bills on my passenger seat that I had reserved for myself from the tips. I gave it to the man and told him that I wanted him to pay his church back. Then I suddenly felt very convicted, because if I had acted earlier, I could have given him more cash.
The teller gave me my deposit slips and that was that. I told the man, "God Bless you," to which he returned.
I drove off feeling like I wished I could do more. Why is it never enough?

Art is not a crime.

But repressing it very well may be.

Someone told me recently I should write more because they love reading my blogs. I didn't realize I was being followed. But anyway.

So I recently had someone ask me to do a painting. Not too unusual, at least lately. I have people who want me to do art for them all the time. Shortly after someone discovers my hidden talent, they immediately push me to "un-hide" it by asking me to draw or paint them something. I usually have a hard time saying no, and I've recently discovered (consequently, by the person who also told me they love my writings,) that I, and I quote, "I am valuable."

As I sit and ponder that, almost as if to re-assure this point in my brain, someone calls me and asks me if I'd be able to do a speed painting. Wishing I could charge an amount equal to the value I feel, I probably won't, simply because I hate asking for money.

I'm slowly getting to the point, so please hang in there. Streams of thoughts happen so much faster when they're being thought, you know?

Anyway, so I'm considering what I should paint for this event, and I wonder, what is it that makes my art valuable? Or anyone's art, for that matter? Some people would argue that it is the demand of that artwork. Picasso's paintings were worth OH SO MUCH more after he died.
However comforting that may be to artists out there, knowing their art will be more appreciated after they're gone, I'd argue that the value of the art is directionally proportionate to the story behind it.

Take this painting: "Fighting the Tide"
To those people who don't know the story behind it, it kinda just looks like a guy standing over a girl with waves splashing all around him. But to me, the artist, it represents so much more. It tells a story, about how the guy is Jesus, and the girl is me, and it is apparent that Jesus is standing over me, protecting me from the rushing water that was meant to crush me.

For people who have experienced a feeling like this in their lives, I would say that this painting might be more valuable to them then someone who has never had this experience.

So along those lines, I was wondering, how many stories are out there? How many artists are repressing their feelings because they are afraid that they aren't good enough to express their experiences in art?

Art is deep rooted in passion and experience, after all. When I paint, I literally pour myself out onto the canvas, which is why an art critique can NEVER tell me what that painting is worth, because he will NEVER know.

I remember many paintings that have stemmed from anger rage and pain. I know how many times I've painted rather than hurt myself. If I had chosen not to paint, to express my feelings, could something worse have happened? What if I had bottled all that rage and pain inside rather than reveal it to the world? I suspect that it possibly could have bubbled over into something more foul. I've had people tell me that my artwork is dark. I admit, yes. Some of my art is scary. Even for me. And some of my art is bloody. How much darker a person would I be if I had chosen not to paint those paintings?

And so here is my point. Art is not a crime. But if I were to have repressed those passions, would I have committed a crime? Maybe not something illegal per se, but a crime against God? A Sin against myself or another human?
I can tell you honestly, that I most certainly know the answer to that. Because the answer is yes. The times I have repressed my feelings and my urge to paint therein, I have committed a sin, whether it was against myself or someone else.

So, I guess, when I'm asked at the event that I'll be speed painting at what inspires me, I'll have to tell them the truth. The truth is that art is inside each of us, regardless of what form it takes. Some of us can look at the world and see how beautiful it is, and capture that with a photograph. Some of us make up lyrics in our heads that make us feel better, and turn it into a song. Some of us can feel the rhythm of the world at large and turn it into music. And some of us can put our feelings into color and produce a painting.

Whatever the art is, feel it. Express it. Because not doing so may be a crime.