Saturday, May 12, 2012

twinkle, twinkle...



I was on Facebook before Bible study the other day. A worship leader friend of mine posted something funny about sight reading the song “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” Not being a musician, I didn’t think much of it;  I’m not sure I even got the joke. A few seconds later, however, the strangest thing happened. As if on cue, one of my neighbor’s children began her recorder lessons. The song her plastic windpipe made across the lake? “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”. Needless to say, the song stuck in my head. So I was taking a shower, getting ready, and thought it only appropriate to sing...  
T-winkle, t-winkle, wittle star... how i wonder what you are...” I love to sing in the shower, but this time I found myself singing in a little child’s voice. In doing so, almost worship-fully, I sensed the wonder of being God’s child. I was singing a song to my Abba, the creator of the universe. I was His little girl, singing to Him my little song. 
As I rode my bike to the Bible Study, I continued singing. Yes, I bicycled through my Pine Ridge Estates neighborhood singing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” at the top of my lungs. Welcome to my world. 
When I got to the Bible study, we ate, we fellowshipped, we worshipped. Then our Pastor put on a video for us to watch. It was Lou Giglio’s “Indescribable,” a presentation on the heavens telling the glory of God; the expanse of the universe declaring the work of His hands. 
As Lou began to describe the greatness of God, he said something like, “We’re not talking about twinkle, twinkle, little star here, folks. We are talking about something... indescribable!
God had my attention. 
The universe is unfathomably huge. God is so present in my life. 
Yet, I am small. I loved the words of Astronaut Neil Armstrong, after seeing the planet Earth for the first time from space:
“It suddenly struck me that that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I didn't feel like a giant. I felt very, very small.”
I started thinking about my own smallness in light of God’s greatness. I started thinking about my life, and how tempting it can be to think you are ‘center of the universe’. I thought about my next trip to Haiti, how miniscule I feel, how inconsequential and inadequate in light of all the need. Oh, how small a mission I have there, to these little oprhans in the poorest country on this hemisphere. Seemingly nameless children, found on a tiny island on a tiny little planet amidst billions and billions of planets and stars and galaxies in a universe too big to calculate, too big to even comprehend. 
And yet, God sees these orphans. He loves these children and is mindful of them. He has counted the numbers of hair on their heads. When they get their hair braided and beaded and barretted, if they lose a few hairs, God re-counts. 
 “When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?” Psalm 8:3-4
Why is man special? Because he was created for relationship. To walk with God and talk with God in the garden. I rode home that night after a beautiful night of fellowship and prayer, my bicycle cutting the balmy Florida air. I realized I was small - I was so small - and yet so loved by a Love whose breath, height, depth and width was infinite. I was created for relationship.

I put the brakes on, hopped off the bike and looked up into the sky, wanting to talk to God, wanting to see the stars He had made and glory in them. But when I looked up, the dark sky was only loosely speckled with starlight. Naples, Florida had too much artificial light for the stars to genuinely shine. I thought of Haiti. In one of the poorest parts of the world, the stars shone brighter than I have ever experienced. 
I longed to go back to Haiti. I longed to see the children. My plane ticket bought, there is relief, except from the need for provision. I need a lot of money for this trip. I need alot of medical supplies donated for the children. I need a lot of logistical factors to come together. I need a big God to deal with my teeny little world. I thought of these words by my favorite Catholic saint, 
"It is needful to remain little before God and to remain little is to recognize one's nothingness, expect all things from the good God just as a little child expects all things from its father; it is not to be troubled by anything, not to try to make a fortune. Even among poor people, a child is given all it needs, as long as it is very little, but as soon as it has grown up, the father does not want to support it any longer and says: "Work, now you are able to take care of yourself". Because I never want to hear these words I do not want to grow up, feeling that I can never earn my living, that is, eternal life in heaven. So I have stayed little, and have no other occupation than of gathering flowers of love and sacrifice and of offering them to the good God to please Him.”
                                                                            ~St Therese of Lisieux
So I continue singing my little song to God:
“...up above the clouds so high...like a diamond in the sky...”
There are more stars in Haiti than in Naples, Florida. This is why I am going down again. To marvel at His creation, to marvel in His love. To glory in the God of the universe who’s eyes are on the sparrow, who loves the ‘least of these’. 
Who can count the stars?
Who can count the grains of sand? The very hairs on the top of my head?
God knows my little dreams, and the little desires of my heart. 
He knows how many orphans are living in Haiti who need His love. 
He counts the stars.
I can’t wait to return to Haiti and count them with Him...
“To whom will you compare me? Or who is my equal?” says the Holy One.Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He who brings out the starry host one by one and calls forth each of them by name. Because of his great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing.”
              ~Isaiah 40:25-31



To watch Lou Giglio's sermon "Indescribable" click here:

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Life or Death?


I was talking to a DR friend the other day about Haiti. I have a month off from work this summer and want to go back down. I have a several options of where I can go, but I’m trying to hone in where God may be leading me to move full time. Yes, I want to move to Haiti. Crazy, huh?

However, decision making is not my strong point. Never was. Big decisions trip me up so bad it’s ridiculous. Intuitively, I know a lot. Intuitively, I am to go on the foreign mission field. Intuitively, I am to give my life to the poor. Intuitively, I am to go to Haiti. But exactly where in Haiti? I wish I had the faith of Abraham who left his homeland not knowing where he was going. A country like Haiti only increases my anxiety to have a well made plan. Lord, increase my faith! But, for now, when faced with a decision, I investigate, evaluate, gather information, pray and enlist the counsel of trusted friends... 
So I was Skyping with this friend, and during some smalltalk, he asked me what I was doing. Sitting outside, I said. I happened to be on the deck of my beautiful Florida cottage on the lake. Fragrant jasmine vines encircled my chaise where I sat with my laptop, enjoying the sun. I told him about my day up to that point which included a farmer’s market and lunch with a few girlfriends. 

He marveled that I was outside, as it is rainy season in Hispaniola. It had been downpouring and flooding where he lives for days. Rainy season in Haiti means lots of rain. It also means mud, floods, mosquitoes, suffocating humidity, hurricanes and disease. I realized, with my big sunglasses on, I was trying to enlist myself into a world that is simply not as kind as Naples, Florida. Hello. 
I thought about being back in Haiti. In the poorest country of the Western Hemisphere, there are no farmer’s markets with free coffee, gluten-free scones and organic arugula. There’s just not. There are also no lazy Saturday afternoons spent idly in the sun, sipping cold herbal tea and doing a little vinyasa yoga before settling into a good book. For a moment, my friend’s laid down life of serving the countries of DR and Haiti challenged me... convicted me.


Then it occurred to me...that thought. The thought that keeps creeping up on me lately. It’s the sinister tempting whisper that says: you could just not go back. I could just succumb to the comfort of America and relax. The voice is correct, I don’t have to go back to Haiti. I am choosing to go to Haiti. But Haiti was hard. Haiti was difficult. Haiti was frustrating and challenging and hot. Haiti is full of potential heartache and sickness and difficulty. And I choose to go back!?

I’ve been toying around with the idea of moving to the DR, simply because life isn’t so extreme there, and Haiti is only a bus ride away. It’s my attempt at making things easier, I suppose. My pastor wasn’t too keen on the idea. “Kristin, I can’t see you anywhere but the uttermost. You’re just not cut out for compromise. You won’t be happy...”
Happy? I tried to imagine myself in Cite Soleil, on the top of a garbage pile, giddy. 
(Note: If I choose to move to Cite Soleil, it will be confirmed that I can’t make a logical decision!)
I remember writing my epitaph. I was living in a New York ghetto and signed up for grief and bereavement training because of the inner-city ministry I was involved in. Trauma and sadness came with the territory. Part of the training included writing your own epitaph. As I write this blog, I feel like I’m there again. I can’t remember what my last epitaph said, probably something like “She gave her life to the streets of West Hill.”
My epitaph would now say this,
“If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake and for the sake of the Good News, you will save it.” (Mark 8:35 NLT)

If I go back to my Lazy Saturday afternoons, my herbal tea, my comfort...I will lose my life. Like a vapor in the warm Florida sun, it will just vanish. However, if I give it all up for the Gospel, I will really start living. Jesus said so and I bank my eternity on it. 
Figuring out how/where/why/when is becoming less and less important. In a life or death situation, sometimes even the luxury of planning must be forsaken. All I know is that I want out of Naples. You can have your organic gluten-free scones and everything else Naples, Florida has to offer. Give me mudslides, give me malaria, give me Jesus.
Just go, I hear another voice saying. This voice is also a whisper, but it’s peaceful and hopeful and safe, the voice of my Shepherd. 
The uttermost is wooing me, “...into a land I will show you.” (Gen 12:1)

"You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had. 
Though he was God, He did not think of equality with God      
as something to cling to.
Instead, he gave up his divine privileges;
    he took the humble position of a slave
    and was born as a human being.
When he appeared in human form,
    he humbled himself in obedience to God
    and died a criminal’s death on a cross.
Therefore, God elevated him to the place of highest honor
    and gave him the name above all other names,
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
    in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,
    to the glory of God the Father." 
(Philippians 2:5-11)