united for eternity

I talked about this in chapel the other day and thought, "may as well post this on here." And, as you can see, that is what I did!

This past year, God has been teaching me the deeper meaning of what it means to be brother and sisters in Christ. Of course, I have failed time and time again, but I have written down some thought that I would like to share with you. The title brother and sister in Christ is tossed around too gently in a lot of Christian settings. The meaning of ‘brother and sister’ is a profoundly deep one. It means we are all connected to each other through Christ. We have all died to ourselves, been unified in Christ and therefore are one with each other. Christ has married the Church. And the Church, the body of Christ, is made up of brothers and sisters. Through his love and sacrifice we become one with Christ, and through that with each other. 

For believers, Jesus becomes the mediator between us. So what does this mean? Bonhoeffer explains it as such; “It means, first, that a Christian needs others because of Jesus Christ. It means, second, that a Christian comes to others only through Jesus Christ. It means, third, that in Jesus Christ we have been chosen from eternity, accepted in time, and united for eternity.” United for eternity. How often do we see our friends or those ‘hello acquaintances’ in the hall and think, “Hey I’m going to be united with them for eternity!” We don’t often think like that but what an exciting thought! We are all so blessed. So many of us live in this community of believers, go to chapel, go to church with each other, go to prayer meetings, eat and hang out with each other. And yet there is so much separation. We live bound by the psychological and social ‘rules’ of the world when we should see those in Christ through the spirit. Of course I am not suggesting that we abandon all common etiquette and become socially awkward. But if we learn to be less like the world even in this one area, think about how unified the body of Christ could become! In practical ways, it could mean trying to understand where your roommate is coming from when she continually leaves her dirty clothes on the floor. Or maybe it could mean befriending someone outside of your friend group that is generally ostracized. Or being patient with someone when you’re working on a group project. Instead of judging these people based on minor negative personality traits, getting angry, and talking about them to your friends, think about about them as brothers and sisters in Christ. Someone who you will be united with forever. The perspective changes a bit and you immediately start seeing them in light of their spirit, and these things that annoy you suddenly aren’t quite as important. It amazes me that in a community where we all claim to profess the love and grace of Jesus, there is so much judgment, gossip, and indifference to the people that surround us. And I, unfortunately, can not exclude myself from this. 

I was talking to a friend the other day and she said God spoke to her very clearly about this one day. She was talking to someone and was about to say something not entirely uplifting about someone else and then suddenly Jesus spoke to her saying, “She’s a person and she’s my child and your sister. See her as I do.” If we cannot see people, especially our brothers and sisters like Jesus does then we do not fully belong in the body of Christ. There is so much separation, strife, dissension and hurt caused among Christians because we fail to understand the depth of our unity with other believers. Without Christ, there is conflict between God and man and between man and man. Christ is our Mediator between God and his children and between our brothers and sisters. 

The Reformers described our death and life as being found outside of ourselves. They said, “Our righteousness is an “alien righteousness,” a righteousness that comes from outside of us.” What they meant by this was that the Christian is dependent on the Word of God spoken to Him. He is pointed outward, to the Word that comes to him. In ourselves, we are destitute and dead. Bonhoeffer again writes: “But God had put this Word into the mouth of others in order that it may be communicated to us. When one person is struck by the Word, he speaks it to others. God has willed that we should seek and find his living Word in the witness of a brother, in the mouth of a man. He needs his brother as a bearer and proclaimer of the divine word of salvation. He needs his brother solely because of Jesus Christ. The Christ in his own heart is weaker that the Christ in the word of his brother. And that also clarifies the goal of all Christian community: they meet one another as bringers of the message of salvation.” What determines our brotherhood is what that man is by reason of Christ. 

And I will quote Bonhoeffer again on community, “The more genuine and the deeper our community becomes, the more will everything else between us recede, the more clearly and purely will Jesus Christ and his work become the one and only thing that is vital between us. We have one another only through Christ, but through Christ we do have one another, wholly, and for all eternity.” Let us work towards brotherly community through humbly accepting that Christ is the only reason we have one another. 

By God’s grace may we cease to see each other on the emotional and psychological level, but that we may see each other spiritually, until Christ is the only thing between us. 

looking back only to enhance looking forward

Remembering what I wrote on the airplane, moving to Canada 2 years ago. It was hard to leave home and difficult to enter into a new culture but I am encouraged by the excitement and hope I held for the future. God always has us in the place that is most right for us. 

The sun soaks my face and it is radiant. It seems to penetrate the ice-cracked window that so fragilely separates me from the altitude of 30,000 feet and unfathomable, choking cold. Up here as I lay my face on the window, letting the sun blind me because I love it, I can see everything. I see the clouds below me and when they part, I see ice and land and more icebergs than is imaginable. They really are like a fleet of sailboats drifting, ever so steadily, to their unknown destination. They look lazy and viscous all at once. Up here I can see the white peaks and the cold, almost marine blue of the lower part of the iceberg, the part that isn't visible down there. It is the same blue that you sometimes see on the upper part of the windshields on minivans in Canada, which is where we are going. "Going home" I said earlier. Maybe if I start calling it that now, it will feel more like it quicker.

Up here I can also look across at a vast "floor" of cloud - solid and yet completely capable of suddenly being opaque. I keep thinking about cheesy Jesus films where you see him walking across the moving clouds in billowing white robes. And I keep wishing it will come true. And it has. God is here, sitting beside me, in the hearts of varying people on this plane, even walking towards me on the clouds. And he is smiling, saying, "Come, Katy. Come home." And I am coming. What is most beautiful to me is that I can find God anywhere and he is home to me. As I gazed into the Sun, I could feel his presence so strongly - soothing, gentle, encouraging and I was so overwhelmed by his blessings that continue and evolve into even greater blessings. How dear he is to me, how precious a friend. I also felt his strength take my weakness and hammer it down, refine it in his flame of power and pour the scalding hot, melting liquid into my body. His energy, flowing through my veins, pulsing with heat and excitement, churning with the quick pain of surrendering and once cooled, refreshing me with the steady promise that comes with being surrendered. Then my mind was filled with ideas and prayers and hopes for my new year, a year that is dedicated fully to God's glory. I prayed for many things for friends, family, for myself... and then I smiled. I want all of those to come true. I want my friends to have joy, truth, courage, to make wonderful, new friends. I want my parents to be welcomed home, to feel they belong and to impact those around them. I want Bethany to love every minute of her music, to treasure her best friends and the love they pour into her. I want a job, I want a friend. And then the most reassuring thought: If none of those come true, I have hope and a love that will never wax and wane, a love that is selfless and doesn't need anything, not even me. But HE wants ME. So much. And I realize the basic thing, the only thing I really want or need is the strength to follow his will totally and completely. After that all things will fall into their proper place. But my heart must also be in its proper place. And that is my goal for this year.

I asked God if he could just take this plane in his fingers and pull it right up to Him and he said not yet. And I don't really want that. Not because I don't want to see him, not because it isn't my greatest desire but because I have life, energy, strength in my blood, and it is not my own. It is a gift and I want to share it. I no longer want to be ashamed of the gospel sometimes but so proud of my faith at other times. I no longer want to be constrained and stifled by my human desires, ambitions, conscientiousness and fear. I want to be God's. And he who began a good work in me is faithful to complete it. What a promise, what a hope to cling to. So I will give, and God will replenish. My dad just reminded me of the verse God gave me for this year. Paul says he has found the secret for being content in all situations. I'm not sure what the secret was but I have found one. For me, the secret of being content is loving my eyes because Jesus is looking out of them. When Jesus is no longer confined to just my heart but he is living in each and every part of me... speaking through my mouth, touching through my hands, listening through my ears, loving selflessly through my heart, seeing through my eyes, THEN, then will I have found the secret. Now I must only begin living like I have found it. And what a perfect opportunity, a new season, fresh life, to begin. To begin the journey that never stops. To follow on the road, to step in the footsteps of my LORD.

When I see the "invisible" part of the icebergs, I wonder if that is what God feels like, looking down on us, seeing all of us that is not visible on earth - knowing the good, knowing the bad and loving us. I see him getting so excited to start chiseling away on that block of ice, to create something beautiful, without blemish and as he works, revealing it fully, showing every part, complete and incomplete, to the world. And they are blinded by its beauty. Not because it is perfect, but because it is flawed and willing to be reformed.

Here's to a future full of goodbyes and an eternity full of hellos.

It's hot - humidity drips from the ceiling and coats all thing with a generous spread of sweat, clingy, smothering blankets that hover over you and morph to your wet body. It's heavy and it pushes you down.

I love it.

Hot summer nights... sleeping, or not sleeping, in your underwear. Curly, frizzy hair stuck in a high bun, ringlets hanging out precariously. The full moon seems fuller tonight, bursting with the sun's reflected heat, layered in a smog, a hazy fog gently swept over the illumination.

God is a bit like humidity, everywhere, surrounding you, embracing your whole being. All the dehumidifiers in the manufacturing world can't really take the edge off of it. He's around - deal with it. Love it - love HIM!

To have your heart radiating warmth from the inside out - hot, melting from that lovely heat - soft in that beautiful furnace, refined in that glorious fire. BURNING for Jesus - not just his lights, we must be his energy, electricity. We must be on fire - unquenchable fire for Him.

"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows." James 1:17

that annoying silver lining

Sometimes if I go too long without writing I lose all motivation to even begin to conquer the ever-builidng stacks of thoughts that twitter around in my mind. My favourite quote recently is: "Allow me to lend a machete to your intellectual thicket." - Captain Jack Sparrow, 3rd Pirates.

A thicket seems correct, maybe a jungle, maybe an unsurpassable rainforest.

My life of late has been rich, like a fine cream poured generously into a Milchkaffee. It's been rich with emotion, raw with feelings and a bit of confusion thrown in there - and that is why I dread every key my fingers hit. There's too much to write that I don't know what to write about. So here goes nothing :]

A friend of mine recently encouraged me to continue writing on this blog o' mine (thank you, Mark!), which was delightful because I was pretty positive no one had perused this web page for some time. I write at night, with the window open, coming off of a drive home, a glorious sunset, a sliver of a moon, and a heavy-hearted discussion that has left me a bit empty.

Last month I went home to Germany. I walked those streets filled with memories, I spoke to old neighbours, ordered Schokos mit Sahne, spent hours with dear friends who are more like sisters than ever and hiked through the plush forests, so green it is almost blinding. And yet, what is this place? It feels probably like the most familiar thing I know but it isn't where I was born. It's not where I'm from or one of my passport countries. I felt uncomfortable and foreign when I lived there and longed and pined for it when I left. Going back, it felt comfortable. It felt like a piece of me was back in place. I realized how I'd subconsciously shut off parts of myself in order to blend into a new culture, to fit in to a shape that wasn't my own. And when I was back in Germany, that part of me came flooding back and I remembered and was liberated. How can I describe home? Is it the last place I had grown to be accustomed to? Is it where I am most alive?

It's been almost two years since I moved to Canada. I look, sound, probably act Canadian but I sure don't feel like it. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm still learning, that it's a foreign culture that I'm not used to yet. But it hurts sometimes - when things or people aren't what you think, when it seems so natural and obvious that you should fit in but you stagger backwards, stopping with surprise when you realize again and again that you don't. These people that seem so like me aren't because they are of a completely different culture. I am still learning to meet their needs in their own culture.

Tonight I just wanted to write a sad, melancholic, melodramatic account of my emotional state. Do you ever just want to leave out the silver lining, just be sad and not add any 'buts'? I really wish I could do that but it would be denying what my whole life is based on: the HOPE of Christ. And with that hope comes an understanding of situations, a reconciling to certain events. With that hope comes acceptance, excitement to follow even when you can't remember why you're excited, an eagerness to find contentment because you know there's a reason you're where you are... As dramatic as it sounds, the feeling of not belonging anywhere has been one of the easiest ways to understand Jesus better, to understand what it means to belong to the Kingdom of God. I am thankful for that but that doesn't mean that it doesn't make my cry sometimes or make me write sad blog entries :]

In grade ten I had a vision one night. I was a nurse and I was caring for thousands of people and God said to me, "Heal my people, Katy." Ever since then, it has been my deepest desire to love the unloved and heal any hurt that people carry. Currently I'm deciding between pursuing Nursing or Education. Both are practical ways of helping and healing people, both in different and similar ways. I will await God's guidance but I realized that it doesn't really matter in the end. God has given me a longing that will never be satisfied and whatever I do, that will be my main priority; to heal, whatever that looks like.

So here I am. Perhaps a bit broken myself but I am reminded that my true identity lies in Christ and it doesn't matter where I'm from but how I act where I am and where I lead others to.

For there is no place for me but beside my LORD in Heaven and there is no goal, no aspiration, no desire but to serve God and "heal his people". Luckily, I don't need to have the right passport for that :]

So there it is, the silver lining, the paragraphs that change the tone of the essay, the upward climb after the dip, the hope of salvation.

Besides, too much rich cream is bad for the cholesterol.

the TIME given to us

Easter Sunday - Jesus conquers death, his victory over sin is complete, he rises from the tomb and looks right into the faces of those that love him, those that can't believe that he actually rose from the dead and defied TIME.

Easter Sunday morning - I'm driving to our school to lead a small morning service. Beth is in the front seat, putting on her makeup. We didn't have TIME to really get ready. We were rushing and focussed and we had gotten frustrated with each other. The gravel is loose, it's been so dry here for so many days. I'm listening to the Easter Weekend Pray As you Go and amidst discussing something with Beth I'm catching snippets of the calm voice, reflecting on the holiness of this day, this weekend: "Think about your weekends. It is a time of relaxing. The weekend is the time we waste the most TIME. We have more of it and we squander it..." Her voice drifts on out of the speakers and I look down to pause it because there isn't TIME to listen to it all then. As I look down, the car starts to swerve. I oversteer and over-brake. We go from one side of the road to the other, back to the other side, turn around backwards and flip over into the ditch. It was slow and it was so fast. There didn't seem to be TIME to react. We're hanging by our seat belts, upside down in the car. Making sure the other one is okay we figure out how to get out, grab our valuables and climb out the back door.

Here we are. We're fine. The windshield smashed, the top of the car crunched. But we are here. Spared, at least for now.

At the same moment, 7 hours away in Germany, a friend catches another friend as she faints and falls to the ground. There isn't any TIME to react. She's out of TIME before they start CPR and she's out of TIME when they stop 50 minutes later. She's not here, she's gone.

TIME. It is everything and it is nothing. It dictates our lives, how we treat others, where our priorities lie. It decides for us whether or not we can visit our grandmother or quickly thank someone or hand in that paper. It is an invisible force, precious and rare. It is the most valuable thing on earth and the only thing we can't make more of. And that is why it makes us selfish. We want all we can get out of it so why should we 'waste' our own TIME to make someone else's TIME more enjoyable, easier or more productive?

Jesus devoted his entire life, all of his TIME to his people. He taught, he prayed, he preached, he laughed, he noticed, he cared, he listened, he healed, he understood and he instructed. Every single thing he did, every event in his life on earth had someone else in mind. Every moment he was focussed on the Father, every second he was ensuring that someone find salvation in him. On this weekend, he chose to end his TIME, to give up his spirit, to fall into shadow and spend three days in the presence of darkness. He trusted that God would raise him after 72 hours, and that he would come back to earth to spend the rest of his TIME devoted to his people.

Easter Sunday morning - All sense of direction is lost, up becomes down, it takes forever and it happens so quickly. And as I'm rolling, the voice comes back to me, "TIME. How are YOU spending your TIME?" And as I hang in my seat belt, looking down at the roof of the car, I think, "I am spending it, completely on myself. I'm not giving it as I should. I'm not treating it like it isn't my own or like it is the biggest gift God has ever given me. I'm not treating it like the person I love most in this world sacrificed his life to ensure that I have it."

Two lives spared, one taken to rise again with Jesus. Each is a gift of time, one of life on earth, the other of eternal life above.

Life - each moment filled with endless opportunities to give what I have received.

And TIME should not dictate how I live but why I live. And the reason I live is because Christ gave me his own TIME, to live as if I were him - continuously giving back.

Thank you LORD, for life, for time and for your sacrifice.

Praising God that Mari Ellen's soul has found rest in Him.

The People of the Praires

The people of the prairies are much like the land of the prairies – open, no surprises, and able to see a long way beyond themselves. It has been a beautiful time adjusting to this world and this culture. I find myself growing increasingly ‘prairie like’. Of course I will always have a heart for Europe, for the beauty and the elaborate and complicated detail but there is something infinitely beautiful about the simplicity of this place and these people. The adjective ‘simple’ often has negative connotations but to me simplicity is something rare and delicate, something that is scarcely grasped or deemed important in this complicated world. Let me explain: Being simple implies that one does not think hard or deeply about something, that one does not wish to complicate things with thought. Simplicity describes what one is beyond oneself. To live a life that exhibits honesty, selflessness and purity, one must eliminate all complicated presumptions and pretences. To really be perceived as Christ did, we must invite people in with simplicity. We all know Christ was the farthest from simple any man could be, and yet there was a simplicity about him and his message that drew people towards him. If we are seen as moody, full of issues and complicated problems, we do not seem open to loving other with a selfless love. We do not invite confidence or portray a listening ear. Of course we all have our issues, but if we fully give our burdens and idols and idleness to Christ, he will refine us and teach us the most simplest of lessons: love.

Some spiritual lessons seem extremely confusing at first. But the more we see the world through Jesus’ eyes, the closer we come to the message behind the lesson and those messages are surprisingly simple. But it takes time and patience and surrender to God’s love to find that simplicity and to recognize it in everything. Even the way Jesus taught is a good illustration of this point. He often spoke in parables – confusing riddles that more often than not stumped even his disciples. Upon asking Jesus to elaborate on his teachings, Jesus would answer in only a few words. So why didn’t Jesus just say that in the first place? I could be wrong, but I sometimes wonder if he was teaching us a lesson even in the way he taught. These parables, when understood and heard through the love and grace of Jesus, become very clear. Life seems so complicated. And yet, when you step back, look at the big picture, trust in God’s grace, you see just how simple it is.

It makes me think of the ocean – raging and pounding waves crashing against the sand. The sea seems wild and dangerous on the surface. But underneath the waves, it is calm. The only movement is a steady current. That is how I often feel. For a moment I am tossed and thrown about in the waves, pounded into the sand but then God gently reminds me to sink down into him, to settle into his current. And he moves me in his stillness.

So we see that when we exhibit simplicity, it doesn't mean that we are simple people or that we don’t think about anything. It means that we have the peace of Christ and that peace is what draws the world to us, and to Jesus.

I am content to be a person of simplicity, a person of peace, a person of the prairies.

Where I am.

Change. It is never sudden. It is never the same one day and different the next. It is a process, a great spinning wheel of woven thread, ever intertwining, ever creating, ever meshing until that last string is sharply cut, separating that sweater, blanket, or sock from the man-made creator. But even then it is not finished. The sweater is sold in a shop, bought for a husband, handed down to a son. The blanket is gifted to a granddaughter, who holds on tight and then grows up, draping it over the rocking chair in the living room. The sock is worn, and then worn again, torn, torn again and then mended.

We are always changing, being moulded and fashioned. It is a process and each season brings new doubts, emotions and sorrows.

One year and a week ago we left Germany. At this point last year our home was filled with bland boxes, piled to the ceiling in our dining room. Our walls were blank, clean canvases, and our hearts and minds were fixed as steadily on the future as on the present.

I never cried. I haven't once cried about leaving home. But I am heavy tonight. It has been growing and building in me for the last while. Summers in Kandern were filled with rolling green hills, fresh forests, the spring-fed pool that I found my way to every day. I miss it all. I miss it more than I ever have tonight.

Maybe the adventure of moving, the excitement of novelty has worn off and I see where I am. Although perfectly contented and at peace about where I am, I'm not sure where I am.

As cliche as it is, the question, "Where are you from?" is the most dreaded one. I realized recently that I can now say, "I'm from St. Pierre, just down the road" and it relieved me. But did it really? Is it really home or just an easy answer? I am grieving the loss of my home .. ever changing... never fixated.

I miss my dear friends, thousands of miles away. I miss big trees, hills, driving 45 mins. to the Alps. I miss talking freely about the places I've been and the things I've seen.

I miss Brazil, I miss Germany.

The spinning wheel keeps turning, the yarn keeps intersecting, homes are created, changed, remodelled, sold. But my identity lies in my creator - the master weaver who spins lives, ideas, emotions, homes and stories that are shaped into who we are but then he cuts that string and calls us to move forward, to let go and begin the painful, beautiful, healing process of starting again as a single thread. As hard as it is, it is exciting to watch as that thread is shapes into something beautiful and who's final form is a complete mystery.

He has blessed me with a world far bigger than I know what to do with and a life constantly in motion.

I miss.

But that's how it should be.