The Whole Earth is Filled with His Glory!

 

He caught my eye as he sang. He caught my heart as he danced. His beautiful brown eyes looked at me and time stood still. My heart broke for him and the millions of others who walk in his very shoes, longing for love and attention. I stand here with so much to offer: a young heart full of the Father's love and redemption. A life full ahead of me, just waiting to be lived. I stand here and lift up my hands in surrender, asking Him to take these feeble instruments of peace and orchestrate miracles for His glory. I ask Him to pour His love through me into these precious children; the ones overlooked, the ones without father or mother, the ones without love.

 

 And I smile, because the beauty of the Father's face is perfectly reflected in the faces of these little ones.

 

From the Prairies to the Concrete Jungle: What an incredible journey! First off, when we reached the border, we were promptly informed that we were wanted inside. No worries. When we got there, they wasted no time in telling us that there was no way Alana would be allowed to cross into the US of A, and that there was only a slim chance that I would be. Well, that was not what we expected to hear, but we sat down and started praying hard! Long story short, after two hours of waiting, we were given permission to cross. We danced out, I'm pretty sure!
Fifty-five hours later, we walked off that last train, sweaty and in desperate need of a shower and sleep! The moment I walked out of that subway station into the New York streets brimming with life, I belonged (well, after the uphill trek to dispose of my bags was over anyway :).

 As I was lost in a sea of faces, and a hundred different sounds, prairie life was ruined forever! :) Those six weeks spent in the heart of diversity and culture were some of the best, most uncomfortable weeks of my life.

 Venturing out to mingle with people and share my story was stretching but an amazing opportunity to watch Him turn my weakness into beautiful displays of His strength.

   We became better equipped to go out and spread the Good News. We studied the history of Christianity, we studied current events in world missions, we studied effective ministry methods, we studied conflict resolution, and most of all, we studied Him.

     We laughed.

  We worshipped. We prayed. We cried.

 We stood together in thankfulness.

 

 We loved on the kids.

 She came all the way from SC to see me. :)

 

 

We watched a dramatic presentation of The Cross and the Switchblade in the Times Square Church.

We relieved stress through awkward games of Dutch Blitz. :)

I was pampered on my birthday!

We visited a Buddhist Temple.

We experienced new things.

I renewed old acquaintances :)

We saw new sights.

We basked in the beauty around us; the beauty that is often missed in a bustling city, but it stands to praise Him regardless.

 

 

 

I got to do all of this with the greatest friend a girl could ask for. Doesn't hurt that she's also my sister :)

And... we finished our Orientation with flair! I am incredibly blessed to know this dynamic group of people set apart for God. Trust me when I say that I think about you daily, and my prayers go up to the Father for you.

 

 

 

From the bustling city of New York, I went to the little town of Millbank, ON. Culture shock? I think yes! Had an incredible time with family there, and celebrated the beautiful cousin's graduation:

 

Following this rather momentous occasion, we traveled through a number of states, experiencing life on the road with Harbour Lights.

Finally, the beauty of Colorado welcomed us, and we were ready for adventure!

Ellerslie: a dream come true. Ever since I was a young teenager, I have read Eric & Leslie Ludy's books, and been inspired by their dedication to His glory.

 

They are my real life heroes, and I finally met them. In person. What a blessing! We spent the weekend studying the ins and outs of being set apart, completely sold out. Strangely uncomfortable, but the most exciting adventure of a lifetime!

 

                                                           We made more memories.

 

We met soul sisters.

We forgot to refuel our rental car, and watched God do a miracle for us, just because He loves His girls!

Two months after our eventful departure from the Wild West, we re-entered as stronger, richer women.

 

 

 

 

My amazing big sis and Mom threw a beautiful housewarming/welcome home party for us.

 

 

I got my Kenzi snuggles again... finally!

 

 

I came back to a broken car window. Odd.

 

 

 

 I have a fantastic little kitchen, which I was so happy to come home to!

 

What a journey, what an adventure! Thanks again for all your support and prayers as we travelled: God opened amazing doors, gave us incredible new friendships, enlarged our territory, called us to new heights, and mostly just blessed our socks off every day. :) If I could write about all the glory moments, inspirations, and humourous accounts we experienced, I would. But alas, time and space prevent this from happening. However, if a picture is worth a thousand words, this one best sums up how I feel about this trip of a life time:

 

 

  “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.” Isaiah 6:3

 

Life in the city continues to be wonderful, if I was to describe it in one word. I love everything about it: the noise, the beauty, the diversity, the taxis, the busyness. I am continually fascinated by my surroundings, and yes, I desperately want to just pack my bags and live here for real! Last week I hopped on the train and traveled to Athens Café to meet K. First off, the drive was lovely. This city is huge. Gorgeous. Invigorating. Then I got to my destination: a lovely little Café nestled in Greece, if you would. K, L, and I sat and discussed faith. We discussed what it's like for her to be Muslim, and for me to be a follower of Jesus. We discussed common ground like prayer and belief in God. We discussed differences, and what has shaped us into the people we are today. I was inspired by her dedication and intellectual knowledge, and convicted of how many times I just float along without truly having an "answer for the hope that is within me" (1 Pt. 3:15). At the same time, I came away incredibly grateful for the gift of the Holy Spirit. He is faithful. So very faithful and gracious. And so I go out every day, trying to make a difference. I pray that through His power we, as a team, can reclaim at least part of the city for Him. A week and a half ago, I had the opportunity to lead out in a craft project at kids' club. I have always loved kids, and projects. So, this was like combining my favourite things and giving them to me on one plate. What a hoot, and what a blessing! Kids. Needs. Love. Hugs. So many aspects of glory. He is displayed in every one of their smiles, and I just want to pile love on them as much as is humanly possible. One short hour is not enough, but it is a glimpse. I leave you with a glimpse of life in the city. Thank you for praying; All is grace <3 p="">

 

to the ends of the earth

 

" Loud. Big. Diverse. Powerful. Busy. Overwhelming. Intriguing. Incredible. Full of Opportunities."

 

   Yesterday, one of my instructors asked us to describe what a city means to us. As you see, the excerpt about was taken from my notes. That pretty much sums up what the city of New York is to me. The more I explore and mingle, the more I love it. The more often I walk the streets, the less intimidating they feel. The more I talk to people and observe their unique styles and languages, the more my heart just smiles at the creativity of my Creator! I love diversity. I love the fact that as a Caucasian, I represent the minority in this city. I love walking down Broadway Street and seeing hundreds of people. I love absorbing the incredible collage of words, faces, accents, dress, and hairstyles.

   On the contrary, there is so much hurt in this sea of people. It saddens me to see hollow stares and empty gazes. I cry when I see a hurting child or a lost mother. I pause when I hear a siren for the tenth time that day, and pray for peace. My heart aches when I see people so busy they fail to notice the buds on the trees or the daffodils or the birds fearlessly flitting about at their feet. I pray. I pray for His glory to be revealed in this city. I pray as my team heads out into the streets to interact and be a witness. I beg Him to soften hearts, to open blinded eyes, to break chains of bondage. I dance for joy when I have the opportunity to pray with a lady new to the city. I praise Jesus when I leave a Hindu temple, having experienced the blood of Jesus that lifts oppression and scatters evil.

   Amidst it all, I marvel. I marvel at His incredible love for me that allows me to be part of His purpose. I marvel at the fact that He goes before me, beside me, behind me. I marvel at the fact that though my team is small, we can be mighty warriors and channels of love.

   So, day in and day out, as we gather in the early mornings to study and worship, He is there, with purpose. As we venture out in the afternoons for ministry, He is there, with vision. In the parks, on the streets, in the darkest corners of this city, He is there, with love. We are reclaiming the City for Him, one prayer at a time. All is Grace.

my weapon of choice

"It takes so little to make people happy. Just a touch, If we know how to give it, just a word fitly spoken, a slight readjustment of some bolt or pin or bearing in the delicate machinery of a soul." ~Frank Crane

 

Ever experienced one of those days when everything seems to go wrong? In fact, even the birds are moping, the cats are constantly brushing at your legs, your hair is completely flat and lifeless, your car won't start, you lost your keys, and there's ten bills waiting to be paid? Before you even get to work, you feel overwhelmed with life and want to run back to bed and stay there forever. You finally get that car started, that hair to resemble order of some sort, and arrive at work completely frazzled and discombobulated. Of course, when you get to work, you realize that it is going to be the busiest day in a long time, and the tears begin to trickle down your cheek. As you go through the motions of greeting people and plastering that fake smile on your face, you wonder what the point is. Why even try, when nothing you do fits the bill? Demands are high, tempers are short, and grace is nonexistant. Just before your last nerve snaps, you begin to serve breakfast to that sweet little Mary Lou. Today, you don't have the energy to give her your best smile, but you do anyway. You scream on the inside, but stop dead in your tracks when you hear her say "Honey, you keep this place going. You have the most beautiful smile in the world!" Wait. What? You must be dreaming, only she's not done. "You are the sweetest thing; I'm so glad you are working today." Duty calls, and you continue working, but suddenly everything has changed! The birds are singing, and the sun that was behind the clouds has come out of hiding. You smile and realize that all is right in your world. 

 

The tongue. Small. Powerful. Deadly. I have always been known as someone who (ahem) likes to talk. Whether I am in the airport, with my sisters, at work, or at the post office, I take great pleasure in a lively conversation. Does this "gift of the gab" come with responsibility? Absolutely yes! In the last several years especially, I've realized the power of words. They are capable of building amazing relationships, breaking the ice, giving someone that boost of confidence after a noteworthy perfomance, and so much more. However, they also have the power to kill. Careless words cut deeply, and are capable of haunting individuals for life. The affirmation a childs seeks is withheld, and he searches for it in all the wrong places, thinking he is no more than a disappointment, a failure. That scandelous story that you passed on about your neighbour? He found out about it, and was deeply hurt, because you never took the time to ask about the facts. The story was completely false, and he no longer trusts you. Gossip and careless words break relationships. We don't have the luxury of speaking our minds. It is our obligation, our gift, to speak words of life into the lives of the people around us. I'm not talking about flattery, trust me. What I speak of is the encouragement the Bible commands us to pass on to others:

"Finally, brothers and sisters, rejoice! Strive for full restoration, encourage one another, be of one mind, live in peace. And the God of love and peace will be with you." (2 Cor 13:11 NIV)

 

I struggle with this command some days (like when the cat brushes up against my legs constantly and my hair really is flat and lifeless :), and my human nature wants to be snippy, carnal. When everything does seem to go wrong, I'm short on sleep, and finances are tight, I want to focus on myself and my problems! Know the feeling? Having said that, I am grateful for a God of grace. He holds me accountable to my commitment of "life vs. death" in my speech. He reminds me to love, to extend grace, to kill gossip before it leaves my mouth, and to praise Him. So today, I choose life. Today, I choose to make someone smile. Today, I choose to look for glory moments. All is grace. 

 

 

confessions of a scarred heart

    It all started that fateful November day, when a beautiful dream was shattered into a million pieces and spread all over the floor! A life full of dreams and hopes was left in an unsettled mess, and a heart beating with purpose was left bleeding and agonizing. They had plans, they had dreams, they were young, and nothing could stop them. That is, until that fateful November day, when even the youngest, strongest of hearts were trampled and crushed, left to bleed to death- alone.
    Or so I though. This is my story. A story of how my world came crashing in around me, and left me gasping for breath. Sometimes pain is thrust into our lives; sometimes, it comes gradually. I thought I was strong, invincible really. I thought that I could handle anything life would ever throw my way. I thought I could stand up after any blow and go right on dancing as though nothing had ever happened. So I tried. I ignored the pain and kept my life filled to the max with activity, people, and work! I was fine, doing great, really!
    Or so I thought. Next thing I knew, I was on the ground, losing sight of the strength I thought I possessed. I cried. I withdrew. I shuttered at the pain I had to stand up under. He called me to be okay with feeling pain, with cracking under the weight of it all, because He knew that I would run to Him. So I walked, stumbled, cried, and kept walking some more. I wondered if I would ever smile again, if I would ever laugh and feel like my normal self again. It hurt, and sometimes I felt like I was alone in my little bubble of pain. I was left reeling at the sight of  couples that surrounded me, the notes, the pictures, the reminders that seemed to come out of nowhere just to haunt me. Again. My angel of a friend told me that it was like having surgery, and that healing would take awhile. She said it would make me a stronger person in the end. I wanted to believe, but felt incapable.
    Then, the panic started. I didn't realize it immediately, but this ugly monster called panic-attacks-clinical-depression was beginning to rear its ugly head amidst, and because of, the pain. It began slowly, this strange combination of emotional fatigue and physical attacks. So elusive, so strange, it began eating away at what I considered to be my vibrant personality. The constricted breathing and the moments of intense pain and suffocation came as a surprise, as a mystery. How was I to deal with even more than I had been drowning under already? What was happening to me mystified me, and paralized me with fear. I was strong, a weathered Christian that should never be surrounded by fear like this, right? I believed that I was a failure.
   That's when I began filling my life with truth. His declaration of my worth became my declaration, replacing the lies of the devil. Surrender came slowly, and not without a struggle. The attacks continued, driving me to tears and to His arms. I felt abandoned through it all, because I expected answers that fit my agenda. Clearly I would be a better person, a stronger Christian, if He would heal me. I had visions for my future, dreams of making a difference in this world. It's hard to be productive and chase dreams when your "life zest" is gone. Completely.
   If there is anything I have learned in my short life, it's that He will never leave me alone out on a limb. No matter how abandoned I feel, no matter how much pain is present in my life, He is there. Period. In my moment of ultimate surrender, I found Him waiting: waiting with His dreams, His purpose, His grace.
   New life began to peep through the dry, cracked earth. New purpose washed over me and gave me eyes of faith. Healing came slowly, painfully.
   This week marked a year of growth since that "fateful November day", but I realize that fate had nothing to do with it. My life has been carefully designed, and every moment of pain is there for a reason. I have scars, but I am stronger because of my pain. I live and love more deeply than ever before, and I am held in a death grip of grace.
   All is grace. He is grace. He is my Shepherd; I have everything I need.