This morning I groggily woke up upon hearing my roommate call my name. Turns out she actually didn't call me, it was just another of God's ploys to get me out of bed. I had to take Nyquil last night and needed a sober wake-up call. Anyway, I crawled out of bed and started vigorously rubbing my arms. I quickly ran over to my fan to turn it off. I thought about my sweatshirt in the closet. These are all signs that IT'S FINALLY GETTING COLD!!! By this time last year, I had been donning the sweaters and scarves (all lightweight, mind you) for a month already. This whole global warming issue has gotten completely out of hand. I hear it's happening in America, too (or at least in California where it's been in the 80's and 90's where it's usually in the 50's by now). This is a little disappointing, I must say. It is especially disappointing because I get to go home in 2 days. All fall I have been daydreaming about getting to don my favorite wool coat, drink piping hot holiday-flavored espresso drinks and sitting by the homefires singing along to Christmas carols played by my stepdad on his old baby grand. I guess I will still get to do some of these things, except I might have to make those drinks iced and the wool coat might just be slung over the back of my chair. Boo. Christmas carols still on, though.
But, IT'S FINALLY GETTING COLD HERE!! Yes, friends, today is my first official' it's-quite-possible-I- may-be-able-to-wear-this-hoody-all-day' day! Woo-hoo! It's also pouring down rain, which might also mean I won't want to wear my hoody all day since it'll probably get soaked. Sigh.
HAPPY IT'S FINALLY GETTING COLD HERE DAY!!!!
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Why I love the Dominican Republic
Yesterday I was sitting out front of Martina's house after lunch. The sun was shining, Venicio and a couple of Haitian guys were pasting cement over a concrete wall that borders their house making it look more adobe style. Yeimi, Fran's wife and daughter of Martina and Venicio, was sitting in the chair next to me, picking the paint off her fingernails and Natan, Fran's littlest, was sitting on top of Bo-Bo's dog kennel rocking back and forth violently while he told me a story I understood little of. It was one of those moments in life where I inherently knew I needed to soak up every detail because I knew I'd never get this day back. Then something more wonderful happened. One of the Haitian guys turned from his work to ask Venicio a question about his shoes. I didn't really hear the question, but I did hear Martina run from inside the house and start publicly 'telling' on her husband some anecdote regarding the shoes. She made fun of him so loudly and they were both laughing and then they started pinching, tickling and hitting at eachother playfully. A husband and wife in their fifties, married for over 26 years, acting all giddy and silly, laughing hysterically. Then Venicio grabbed her in his arms, hugged her tight and said, "Mujer!" (woman). I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I laughed.
There are moments like these that come and renew my spirit, that lift up my heart and when I think to myself, 'I love the Dominican Republic'. Shortly after I headed back to the art site to open up for our afternoon students. I got there a little early and so decided to start back on a painting that has been giving me trouble. I have some how lost communication with the originial idea and it keeps transforming, yet not yet into what it will be. Anyway, I took it outside to spray another layer of gold spray paint on it to subdue some of the other colors. As I was shaking up the can, three of our new teenage art students loudly barged in. "Amy! Que tu haces? (what are you doing?)" Jose Daniel asked and so I explained and then he patted me on the shoulder and said to his friends (I'll just write it in English for y'all), "See! I told you guys she was amazing. You're even better than Profe (Francisco). You are such a Tigeraza (have no idea how to translate that except to say a combo between 'fierce' and 'the bomb') !" I gently full-nelsoned him, commanded them to 'get to work!' and we all laughed.
Francisco finally came in to work. He had vertigo yesterday because of an ear infection (or rather, water had gotten in his ears when he went swimming in the river). I poured in some Hydrogen Peroxide mixed with water (something he'd never heard of) and he delightedly giggled at the sound of it fizzing in his ears. He felt almost immediately better and then we started joking around. He playfully teased the art students, I told him all the 'bad' words I had learned since I'd been here (I didn't actually know they weren't appropriate until I said one and he, with shocked expression, asked me where I'd learned that word). He thought it was hilarious.
What a jovial day.
I love the Dominican Republic.
There are moments like these that come and renew my spirit, that lift up my heart and when I think to myself, 'I love the Dominican Republic'. Shortly after I headed back to the art site to open up for our afternoon students. I got there a little early and so decided to start back on a painting that has been giving me trouble. I have some how lost communication with the originial idea and it keeps transforming, yet not yet into what it will be. Anyway, I took it outside to spray another layer of gold spray paint on it to subdue some of the other colors. As I was shaking up the can, three of our new teenage art students loudly barged in. "Amy! Que tu haces? (what are you doing?)" Jose Daniel asked and so I explained and then he patted me on the shoulder and said to his friends (I'll just write it in English for y'all), "See! I told you guys she was amazing. You're even better than Profe (Francisco). You are such a Tigeraza (have no idea how to translate that except to say a combo between 'fierce' and 'the bomb') !" I gently full-nelsoned him, commanded them to 'get to work!' and we all laughed.
Francisco finally came in to work. He had vertigo yesterday because of an ear infection (or rather, water had gotten in his ears when he went swimming in the river). I poured in some Hydrogen Peroxide mixed with water (something he'd never heard of) and he delightedly giggled at the sound of it fizzing in his ears. He felt almost immediately better and then we started joking around. He playfully teased the art students, I told him all the 'bad' words I had learned since I'd been here (I didn't actually know they weren't appropriate until I said one and he, with shocked expression, asked me where I'd learned that word). He thought it was hilarious.
What a jovial day.
I love the Dominican Republic.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
The All Consuming Fire
Are we comfortable with God's jealousy? Do we understand His passionate love that burns continually, constantly and is directed toward us? I know that it is often hard for me when He comes with that burning, searing fire of purification, of sanctification. My flesh and its desires writhe in pain, crying out for it to cease. I want to run and hide, find refuge among the familiar systems that I've built to keep myself 'safe'. At the same time, my soul craves His touch, no matter what form it comes in and my spirit cries out for completion; to be redeemed and restored to its perfect likeness, made in His image. We who are born again, who have been born anew of His Spirit and who have been given freedom to choose Him, receive His jealous love as those inner fires of transformation, trials, persecutions. His passion is fierce, relentless. He is all-consuming. I imagine these are what the fires of Hell are. Un-renewed people standing in His fire of love, yet unable to enter into its full embrace. He is everywhere and there is nowhere one can go to escape His presence. The presence of the Living God is a fire that consumes everything it its path. It is a love to be consumed by, but those who do not have His life-giving Spirit will never be able to enter into that consuming love. They will feel it on them, burning, but will never be able to be transformed into it. This is torture. An unquenchable fire. We who have received Christ and position ourselves before Him become those very living flames of love, both purified and purifying; being sanctified, yet already holy.
This is our privilege.
Let his holy, purifying, perfecting love come in and chase out all fear, all foe, all sin, all death.
"Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom which cannot be shaken, let us have grace, by which we may serve God acceptably with reverence and godly fear. For our God is a consuming fire." Hebrews 12:28,29
Saturday, November 1, 2008
The Things We Don't Understand
"...being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ;" Php. 1:6
He's never done. And even though I have the above scripture pretty much memorized, He still catches me off guard when He comes in to complete more of the work.
I remember thinking back in 2005 when I was going on a short-term trip to Nigeria to administer Polio vaccine that I was entering the last 'promise of God' that I knew about in my own life. What I mean is that throughout my growing up years, every so often I'd get these flash visions of myself as an adult standing in Africa, holding a baby and talking with some women. In my mind, that was the be all, end all. But, as I was standing in Africa just 3 years ago, holding a baby and talking to some women, I felt fulfilled. I didn't feel called to move my whole life to Africa. I remember coming back to California feeling confounded and a little lost. Silly, I know. Just months later, our church decided to establish a missions program and I lead an 8-person team down here to the Dominican Republic. While here for two weeks, God resurrected this old dream I'd had as a 15 year old, to live for a couple years in a Spanish speaking country, get fluent and make art. I had let that dream die due to many factors and had a hard time reconciling myself with it as God kept moving my heart around, opening a desire to come and serve here. And, still, within my first year here, I kept asking God, "But, what next? I mean, I've been in Africa, I'm doing the Spanish/art thing now, but what comes after, God?"
It's amazing what things we forget, what things we don't understand. But, God never forgets, nor is He short on understanding. Not only did He form me in my mother's womb, He chose where I would live, what I would do and the kind of relationship I would have with Him.
Ever since I was little, maybe 5 or 6, I would tell people that I was going to write a book one day. As I grew a little older and learned how to write, I was always penning short stories, TV scripts, poems. I even had a dream as a teenager where I was reading at the title of a book and when I looked to see who the author was, it was me! Something in me has always known I was made to be a writer. Yet, a different something in me felt like it wasn't noble enough. But, this last year, God has been, once again, coming in to remind me of the work still left uncompleted in the life He designed for me. And the ways He comes in to lovingly remind me, to encourage me as my adoring Father... well, he just knocks me down every time.
Tonight I was feeling discouraged for various reasons, but as I took my seat in the front row of my weekly discipleship class at church, I set my mind to glean all I could from the teaching. The pastor at one point asked a question, which I answered under my breath not intending to be heard, but he did hear it and he pointed at me and said, "Amy Babb. Amy Babb. You have the name of an author. 'Written by Amy Babb.'" He giggled, I answered the question so everyone could hear and he moved on. He didn't know it, but God had just used this man to affirm me in something that I so long to do, so long to be.
I think that it's hard sometimes to believe that the things we most desire are really God's desires for us. I often struggle with the seeming contradiction of: "Delight yourself also in the Lord, and He shall give you the desires of your heart" and "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked, who can know it?" I realize these things are not in contradiction because God is completely true always, but I have still gotten caught in the trap of believing that my good desires are not necessarily good. I think part of this comes from walking through fires and trials that God has called me into, things I didn't desire, but were from Him.
Okay, I admit it. I want to be an expert on the ways of God. It's true. I want all understanding, all knowledge-- just overall omni-whatever. But I also love surprises. I beg God daily to reveal His will in my life, but when He actually does it, I get that same excitement of receiving an unexpected present. That's how I felt tonight. God has been telling me, through my desire, through encouragement of others, that yes, writing is something he wants me to do. But He went the extra mile tonight and caught me off guard by using someone who barely knows me. I don't get it. I'll never get His love that continually works on my behalf. I'll never understand why sometimes He talks to me non-stop and at others is silent for too long (in my opinion :) ).
I want to be complete, yet I love that there are things left for Him to do. I want to be in the fulness of His presence, yet I love it when He shows up unexpectedly after a long absence. I am addicted to the mystery.
He's never done. And even though I have the above scripture pretty much memorized, He still catches me off guard when He comes in to complete more of the work.
I remember thinking back in 2005 when I was going on a short-term trip to Nigeria to administer Polio vaccine that I was entering the last 'promise of God' that I knew about in my own life. What I mean is that throughout my growing up years, every so often I'd get these flash visions of myself as an adult standing in Africa, holding a baby and talking with some women. In my mind, that was the be all, end all. But, as I was standing in Africa just 3 years ago, holding a baby and talking to some women, I felt fulfilled. I didn't feel called to move my whole life to Africa. I remember coming back to California feeling confounded and a little lost. Silly, I know. Just months later, our church decided to establish a missions program and I lead an 8-person team down here to the Dominican Republic. While here for two weeks, God resurrected this old dream I'd had as a 15 year old, to live for a couple years in a Spanish speaking country, get fluent and make art. I had let that dream die due to many factors and had a hard time reconciling myself with it as God kept moving my heart around, opening a desire to come and serve here. And, still, within my first year here, I kept asking God, "But, what next? I mean, I've been in Africa, I'm doing the Spanish/art thing now, but what comes after, God?"
It's amazing what things we forget, what things we don't understand. But, God never forgets, nor is He short on understanding. Not only did He form me in my mother's womb, He chose where I would live, what I would do and the kind of relationship I would have with Him.
Ever since I was little, maybe 5 or 6, I would tell people that I was going to write a book one day. As I grew a little older and learned how to write, I was always penning short stories, TV scripts, poems. I even had a dream as a teenager where I was reading at the title of a book and when I looked to see who the author was, it was me! Something in me has always known I was made to be a writer. Yet, a different something in me felt like it wasn't noble enough. But, this last year, God has been, once again, coming in to remind me of the work still left uncompleted in the life He designed for me. And the ways He comes in to lovingly remind me, to encourage me as my adoring Father... well, he just knocks me down every time.
Tonight I was feeling discouraged for various reasons, but as I took my seat in the front row of my weekly discipleship class at church, I set my mind to glean all I could from the teaching. The pastor at one point asked a question, which I answered under my breath not intending to be heard, but he did hear it and he pointed at me and said, "Amy Babb. Amy Babb. You have the name of an author. 'Written by Amy Babb.'" He giggled, I answered the question so everyone could hear and he moved on. He didn't know it, but God had just used this man to affirm me in something that I so long to do, so long to be.
I think that it's hard sometimes to believe that the things we most desire are really God's desires for us. I often struggle with the seeming contradiction of: "Delight yourself also in the Lord, and He shall give you the desires of your heart" and "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked, who can know it?" I realize these things are not in contradiction because God is completely true always, but I have still gotten caught in the trap of believing that my good desires are not necessarily good. I think part of this comes from walking through fires and trials that God has called me into, things I didn't desire, but were from Him.
Okay, I admit it. I want to be an expert on the ways of God. It's true. I want all understanding, all knowledge-- just overall omni-whatever. But I also love surprises. I beg God daily to reveal His will in my life, but when He actually does it, I get that same excitement of receiving an unexpected present. That's how I felt tonight. God has been telling me, through my desire, through encouragement of others, that yes, writing is something he wants me to do. But He went the extra mile tonight and caught me off guard by using someone who barely knows me. I don't get it. I'll never get His love that continually works on my behalf. I'll never understand why sometimes He talks to me non-stop and at others is silent for too long (in my opinion :) ).
I want to be complete, yet I love that there are things left for Him to do. I want to be in the fulness of His presence, yet I love it when He shows up unexpectedly after a long absence. I am addicted to the mystery.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Indulging
I do not have discipleship class tonight and so I am indulging. Indulging in enjoyment of the day. It's been a while now since I've had an ENTIRE day free from some kind of obligation. I am not saying obligations are bad and I myself made the choice to obligate myself to take a discipleship class at my church here. But, I have to admit, today just feels luscious. It feels luscious even with a headache, which usually ruins my day, but my soul is so relaxed, I don't even mind it so much. Plus, last night God told me I'd have a headache and that I'd need to drink lots of water today. Last night, I indulged, too.
I have a good friend here who I love and it has been a long time since I've spent time with her and her boyfriend, who I also love. We made plans to hang out and watch the World Series at her house (since I have no cable at my house), but plans changed and so we went out for pizza and I asked the boyfriend to tell me his side of the 'how I fell in love with her' story. The beauty is that he was eager and willing to tell even though there was a boxing match on and his mouth was filled with pizza. Claro esta, we had to take breaks every now and then as his eyes wandered to watch some guys throw some punches, but that was to be expected. After dinner we actually ended up back at her house where there was wine and chocolate. I don't drink wine all that often and especially not living here because we need to be careful witnesses in an alcoholic culture, but when I do get to have a glass, I savor it. And with dark chocolate. Why is God so good? Anyway, then my friend put on some rich tunes to go along with the rich evening and THEN... pulled out the art supplies. Talk about indulgence. I grabbed some conte crayons and just started drawing what was right in front of me. It happened to be my glass of wine. As I was drawing, I thought about Jesus sharing his last meal on earth with his disciples before he was crucified. I felt his tension as he was reclining at the table, a glass of wine before him, thinking about what he was about to go through. Would his closest and dearest friends understand the symbology if he tried sharing with them? Would they understand the connection between his blood and the wine they were drinking-- a common thing? I saw his fingers lightly touch the stem of the cup, his eyes gazing into the deep dark. "I will not drink of the vine again until I come..." Catching the sound of his voice, his fellows turn their heads to look at him. What was he saying?
I can't imagine how Jesus felt on that night. How he must feel now, waiting in anticipation for the day when he will again drink of the vine with his companions at the wedding banquet. What seemed like a simple indulgence to me last night, turned into a deep longing to be intimate with Christ, the lover I am waiting to see, with whom I will share a cup of the vine-- the best wine which he saved for last. I am my beloved's and he is mine; his banner over me is love.
Today feels luscious as I indulge in the love of the one who is, who was and who is to come...
I have a good friend here who I love and it has been a long time since I've spent time with her and her boyfriend, who I also love. We made plans to hang out and watch the World Series at her house (since I have no cable at my house), but plans changed and so we went out for pizza and I asked the boyfriend to tell me his side of the 'how I fell in love with her' story. The beauty is that he was eager and willing to tell even though there was a boxing match on and his mouth was filled with pizza. Claro esta, we had to take breaks every now and then as his eyes wandered to watch some guys throw some punches, but that was to be expected. After dinner we actually ended up back at her house where there was wine and chocolate. I don't drink wine all that often and especially not living here because we need to be careful witnesses in an alcoholic culture, but when I do get to have a glass, I savor it. And with dark chocolate. Why is God so good? Anyway, then my friend put on some rich tunes to go along with the rich evening and THEN... pulled out the art supplies. Talk about indulgence. I grabbed some conte crayons and just started drawing what was right in front of me. It happened to be my glass of wine. As I was drawing, I thought about Jesus sharing his last meal on earth with his disciples before he was crucified. I felt his tension as he was reclining at the table, a glass of wine before him, thinking about what he was about to go through. Would his closest and dearest friends understand the symbology if he tried sharing with them? Would they understand the connection between his blood and the wine they were drinking-- a common thing? I saw his fingers lightly touch the stem of the cup, his eyes gazing into the deep dark. "I will not drink of the vine again until I come..." Catching the sound of his voice, his fellows turn their heads to look at him. What was he saying?
I can't imagine how Jesus felt on that night. How he must feel now, waiting in anticipation for the day when he will again drink of the vine with his companions at the wedding banquet. What seemed like a simple indulgence to me last night, turned into a deep longing to be intimate with Christ, the lover I am waiting to see, with whom I will share a cup of the vine-- the best wine which he saved for last. I am my beloved's and he is mine; his banner over me is love.
Today feels luscious as I indulge in the love of the one who is, who was and who is to come...
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Hop, Skip, Jump
I had the most wonderful birthday (it was on October 2nd for those who are wondering). Just kidding. The day of I was actually really sick and slept through most of it, but the following night, some friends came over and we watched Amelie, one of my favorite movies. And Katie made this decadent chocolate dessert from scratch that was the best thing I've ever put in my mouth.
And, because we only get mail once every two weeks here, I finally got my birthday packages yesterday!!! I already thanked my mom, who sent cool stuff, but especially great was a framed photo of my bro and best-nephew-in-the-whole-world Gabriel. I love him. Them, I mean. And THEN I got to open a package from a woman who was here on a team back in the Spring. Marilyn. She's from Connecticut and so encouraged me when she was here. She sent me a book from 1947 from a wise saint that I cannot wait to start reading. As well, she sent me...A BRAND NEW PAIR OF CONVERSE!!!! I still can't get over it. For those of you who know me well, I live in Chuck Taylors. Lo-tops, not high tops because hi-tops are too hot and you can't wear them with shorts and dresses well. Anyway, the ones I brought down here with me, my beloved burgundys, have gotten completely thrashed from being worn in El Callejon all summer (if you don't know where El Callejon is, you need to be reading these blogs more, really...). They are still so very comfy, but are caked in mud and paint, etc and so are no longer church-worthy. Many of you may be thinking that wearing Converse to church is a little bit, um, not pretty, but whatever. I sometimes wear girly shoes to church, too. I actually just got a pair of coppery-metalic sandals that are really cute and...
But, I have a new pair of Converse and I love them so much I almost slept in them last night. I used to always sleep in my new shoes when I was a little girl. In fact, 'shoe' was my first word. I was four months old. My dad says that I was laying on my stomach on the carpet right in front of his size 11 Clarks and very clearly said, 'shoe!'. I didn't speak again until 7 months later. I always say I was prophesying over my own life: "Go into all the World..." "How beautiful on the mountain are the feet of those who bring the good news". Hey, if God can use a donkey, surely he can use a four month old.
I still like shoes a whole lot, but since they are not as easily accessible down here and I live on a healthy budget, receiving a brand new pair of my favorite kind of shoes is an incredible blessing.
Thank you Marilyn for the love.
And, because we only get mail once every two weeks here, I finally got my birthday packages yesterday!!! I already thanked my mom, who sent cool stuff, but especially great was a framed photo of my bro and best-nephew-in-the-whole-world Gabriel. I love him. Them, I mean. And THEN I got to open a package from a woman who was here on a team back in the Spring. Marilyn. She's from Connecticut and so encouraged me when she was here. She sent me a book from 1947 from a wise saint that I cannot wait to start reading. As well, she sent me...A BRAND NEW PAIR OF CONVERSE!!!! I still can't get over it. For those of you who know me well, I live in Chuck Taylors. Lo-tops, not high tops because hi-tops are too hot and you can't wear them with shorts and dresses well. Anyway, the ones I brought down here with me, my beloved burgundys, have gotten completely thrashed from being worn in El Callejon all summer (if you don't know where El Callejon is, you need to be reading these blogs more, really...). They are still so very comfy, but are caked in mud and paint, etc and so are no longer church-worthy. Many of you may be thinking that wearing Converse to church is a little bit, um, not pretty, but whatever. I sometimes wear girly shoes to church, too. I actually just got a pair of coppery-metalic sandals that are really cute and...
But, I have a new pair of Converse and I love them so much I almost slept in them last night. I used to always sleep in my new shoes when I was a little girl. In fact, 'shoe' was my first word. I was four months old. My dad says that I was laying on my stomach on the carpet right in front of his size 11 Clarks and very clearly said, 'shoe!'. I didn't speak again until 7 months later. I always say I was prophesying over my own life: "Go into all the World..." "How beautiful on the mountain are the feet of those who bring the good news". Hey, if God can use a donkey, surely he can use a four month old.
I still like shoes a whole lot, but since they are not as easily accessible down here and I live on a healthy budget, receiving a brand new pair of my favorite kind of shoes is an incredible blessing.
Thank you Marilyn for the love.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
The King's Table
Back in January, our church hosted a group of prophetically-inclined brethren from a church near Chicago. It was an awesome few days of fantastic teaching and personal ministry. During the first night, one of the women on the team pointed at me and started sharing some spot-on things about who God has made me to be. It was very encouraging. After affirming by spiritual personality, so to speak, she shared something that I also felt comforting: that God was going to start bringing together all the seemingly random bits of my call together to form a tapestry that would finally make sense to me. I have never made sense to myself, which is one of my hugest struggles in life. All of my strengths, talents and gifts seem to not really go together, or rather, God seems to highlight certain ones at certain times while the others take a break. It's often quite frustrating for me. Upon hearing the promise of clarity that night, I relaxed a bit, knowing that God would soon bring some kind of grand revelation.
I'm still waiting.
As I contemplated the idea of writing an update here, images of my life started spinning around my mind like a lazy Susan. Should I write about the corn, the salsa, the mashed potatoes, the meatloaf, the mint chutney or the blackberry cobbler? There are so many little things going on, each one so incredibly flavorful in its own right, yet each one feeling incomplete on its own. I feel like God is giving me tastes of all different kinds of things, both satisfying and causing hunger. How is this possible?
This morning I woke up early to join two sisters from church to pray over a location where our church will be hosting a concert tonight. The town is celebrating its sesquicentennial (150 years) anniversary and each night of the week, a different concert is going on. The stages are being sponsored by Brugal Rum, and each night so far has been an alcoholic frenzy. On the property, which is probably a half-lot size, there are literally 8 alcohol booths, each one standing about 4 feet over from the next one. The stage itself is made up of plastic banners advertising Brugal Rum. Francisco, who I work with, is busy at work painting a huge backdrop to hang over these ads that announces God's love for the city. The church is bringing in 4 very well-known Christian Dominican music artists and some of the youth will be performing a powerful dance/drama. It is also pouring down rain. I give you this background to let you know a bit about what I am participating in here outside of work and also to share how praying over an outreach like this leaves me in the place of 'already, but not yet'. I can go with a few believers and in the name of Jesus, ask for souls to be liberated from the bondage of alcoholism and hopelessness. I can pray the tearing down of modern sacred pillars (Brugal Rum booths). I can proclaim the righteousness of God and the reign of His holiness over an area and in this way, I get a taste of the everlasting Kingdom. But, I still feel hungry. The concert hasn't happened yet. None of those who will come to the Lord tonight have yet come. Right now, someone who God plans to set free tonight is still bound. Those prayers that we prayed this morning have not yet found their release and I still carry within me that tension. I am hungry to see the outpouring of God's mercy in this place, knowing that the prayers that have gone forth in faith will bring this outpouring
And so goes the rest of my life here. As I set out to do things, whether in my quiet times with God or in ministry, I feel as though I am being both filled and poured out all at once. I feel satisfied and glad, yet starving for more. I feel I am in a perpetual state of holy angst where nothing makes sense, but all of it seems worthwhile. I like to have things orderly, set in place, confirmed and clear. There are decisions to be made that I feel I can't make because this merry-go-round of the Holy Spirit won't slow down for me to make a choice! My tendency to judge things as better, worse, more or less valuable, good or bad is being challenged to the utmost as God continues to show me that every single nook and cranny of His Kingdom has innate and eternal value. The minute before I try to set in stone something that makes sense to me, God comes and spins it all around, stopping it only when He wants it to and says, Amy, take a bite of this. And, just as I'm enjoying that bite and start to reach for another, he spins the selection around again and asks that I taste something else. They are all tasty and all nourishing, but each time I feel I'm about to be satisfied on one thing, he laughs and throws everything into a colorful whirl until I've tasted it all. Does this make any sense? If not, you know how I feel : )
And so, I'm teaching bi-monthly art classes in El Callejon to girls ages7-11; I'm painting some of my own prophetic art; I'm assisting Fran in the art school and helping some of our students make the transition from pen drawing to watercolors; Saturday nights I'm taking a discipleship class at church and am having to read huge portions of the Bible at a fairly rapid rate (in the last three weeks I've read Matthew thru Leviticus) as well as read a book in Spanish on the history of the DR and why the people are the way they are and then write a report on it (due next week); Monday nights I'm tutoring a new American teacher here with her Spanish; Monday mornings I am now prayer walking with my dear friend Elizabeth in the community where she leads a home group. So much is going on and each thing is so fulfilling to me. And yet, I know that it's for a time and a season.
I will soon have to make a decision regarding whether or not I will be staying here past my two year commitment. It is a decision I cannot make based on how well things or going or on how I feel in any given moment. I struggle because I know that whether I am here, in the States or in another country, God is there, working and I will get to partner with Him. I cannot place any kind of better/worse value on 'where' I am. If I could, it would make this decision easier. I would appreciate any prayers and/or wisdom if you feel so lead to share.
"Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think..."
I'm still waiting.
As I contemplated the idea of writing an update here, images of my life started spinning around my mind like a lazy Susan. Should I write about the corn, the salsa, the mashed potatoes, the meatloaf, the mint chutney or the blackberry cobbler? There are so many little things going on, each one so incredibly flavorful in its own right, yet each one feeling incomplete on its own. I feel like God is giving me tastes of all different kinds of things, both satisfying and causing hunger. How is this possible?
This morning I woke up early to join two sisters from church to pray over a location where our church will be hosting a concert tonight. The town is celebrating its sesquicentennial (150 years) anniversary and each night of the week, a different concert is going on. The stages are being sponsored by Brugal Rum, and each night so far has been an alcoholic frenzy. On the property, which is probably a half-lot size, there are literally 8 alcohol booths, each one standing about 4 feet over from the next one. The stage itself is made up of plastic banners advertising Brugal Rum. Francisco, who I work with, is busy at work painting a huge backdrop to hang over these ads that announces God's love for the city. The church is bringing in 4 very well-known Christian Dominican music artists and some of the youth will be performing a powerful dance/drama. It is also pouring down rain. I give you this background to let you know a bit about what I am participating in here outside of work and also to share how praying over an outreach like this leaves me in the place of 'already, but not yet'. I can go with a few believers and in the name of Jesus, ask for souls to be liberated from the bondage of alcoholism and hopelessness. I can pray the tearing down of modern sacred pillars (Brugal Rum booths). I can proclaim the righteousness of God and the reign of His holiness over an area and in this way, I get a taste of the everlasting Kingdom. But, I still feel hungry. The concert hasn't happened yet. None of those who will come to the Lord tonight have yet come. Right now, someone who God plans to set free tonight is still bound. Those prayers that we prayed this morning have not yet found their release and I still carry within me that tension. I am hungry to see the outpouring of God's mercy in this place, knowing that the prayers that have gone forth in faith will bring this outpouring
And so goes the rest of my life here. As I set out to do things, whether in my quiet times with God or in ministry, I feel as though I am being both filled and poured out all at once. I feel satisfied and glad, yet starving for more. I feel I am in a perpetual state of holy angst where nothing makes sense, but all of it seems worthwhile. I like to have things orderly, set in place, confirmed and clear. There are decisions to be made that I feel I can't make because this merry-go-round of the Holy Spirit won't slow down for me to make a choice! My tendency to judge things as better, worse, more or less valuable, good or bad is being challenged to the utmost as God continues to show me that every single nook and cranny of His Kingdom has innate and eternal value. The minute before I try to set in stone something that makes sense to me, God comes and spins it all around, stopping it only when He wants it to and says, Amy, take a bite of this. And, just as I'm enjoying that bite and start to reach for another, he spins the selection around again and asks that I taste something else. They are all tasty and all nourishing, but each time I feel I'm about to be satisfied on one thing, he laughs and throws everything into a colorful whirl until I've tasted it all. Does this make any sense? If not, you know how I feel : )
And so, I'm teaching bi-monthly art classes in El Callejon to girls ages7-11; I'm painting some of my own prophetic art; I'm assisting Fran in the art school and helping some of our students make the transition from pen drawing to watercolors; Saturday nights I'm taking a discipleship class at church and am having to read huge portions of the Bible at a fairly rapid rate (in the last three weeks I've read Matthew thru Leviticus) as well as read a book in Spanish on the history of the DR and why the people are the way they are and then write a report on it (due next week); Monday nights I'm tutoring a new American teacher here with her Spanish; Monday mornings I am now prayer walking with my dear friend Elizabeth in the community where she leads a home group. So much is going on and each thing is so fulfilling to me. And yet, I know that it's for a time and a season.
I will soon have to make a decision regarding whether or not I will be staying here past my two year commitment. It is a decision I cannot make based on how well things or going or on how I feel in any given moment. I struggle because I know that whether I am here, in the States or in another country, God is there, working and I will get to partner with Him. I cannot place any kind of better/worse value on 'where' I am. If I could, it would make this decision easier. I would appreciate any prayers and/or wisdom if you feel so lead to share.
"Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think..."
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