Togetherness

I'm listening to the generator roar against the mighty back drop of the ocean waves on this, our last night in Haiti, and I’m wondering what will it be like to not have 25 Haitians out in my yard at any given point in the day?  

Honestly, a big part of me is ready for some space and solitude. Another piece of this heart is going to seriously miss the togetherness of this place. Not only are we together most of the time, we are with a community that has lived this way all their lives. Not in a contrived, scripted, planned community, but a group of people that just needs each other. 

A forced togetherness that yields a connectedness. 

You can't do life alone here, even if you try. This is a difficult land, and everyday tasks can be a challenge. You just need some help. 

Trouble is I don't want help. I really don’t want to need anyone. 

Correction: I don’t want anyone to let me down. Relying on is not my strong suit. 

My pride rears it's ugly head in the form of self reliance and while it promises to save me from pain, humiliation and disappointment, ultimately it just keeps me separated, disconnected, and alone.

With a little bit of a hardened exterior. For sure, more of a hardened heart than I'd like to admit. 

Isolation has been my go to for so long. This works pretty good in America, where I can just not answer my phone or leave the house for days and no ones knows the difference. Here? Ahhhhhh, blessed togetherness. There is just no hiding. And I'm thankful for it. Probably better for it.

God is using this blessed tool of togetherness to show me some good things. Isolation lies and togetherness leads to life. Vulnerability in the Body of Christ bears the fruit of sincerity and truth in relationships that we are all really longing for, but it takes such bravery to be vulnerable first. Truth is along both paths lie hurt and disappointment, but one path leads to life and strength and health in the Body of Christ, and the other to death, false hood and hypocrisy.

"A man who isolates himself seeks his own desire; He rages against all wise judgement." Proverbs 18:1

Through the blessed togetherness, God is teaching me what He values should be what I value. Transparency. Grace and truth. Acknowledgment and respect of space and boundaries, leaving room for the Spirit to work. Learning to bear each other's burdens. Depending on others. Unconditional love. Looking out for the needs and interests of others. Being filled up by the Spirit, not puffed up by ego or pride. Love like you want to be loved. Serve like you want to be served. 

It's not that these things are necessarily plentiful here, but it is the opportunity for these things that abounds.

I'm the wild card. 

Will I choose to serve others or go my own selfish way? Will I have a tenderness to sit and listen?  Will I be open and apply the truth that He can use my brokenness in the lives of others? That He can use me in spite of myself? Do I really believe that when I am weak, His power is strong in me? 

I'm learning that blessed togetherness isn't always about wanting to be with people, nor is it about always being physically together. It's more about not hiding. Not lying to yourself and those I'm sharing this wonderful, crazy life with about who I am and what's really going on in this knotted up heart of mine. 

It's about giving the acceptance and grace that I am needing. 

It’s about letting people in and trusting God will use my vulnerability.

Community doesn't save us, but what better use is His body broken for you and me than to weep and hurt and walk with one another? The broken and the bleeding. 

Togetherness is that blessed balm that when applied to our lonely hearts reminds us we don’t have to walk alone. Truth be told, I don't know what the answer is for those of us that don't live in a forced togetherness situation. But I have an inkling it begins like so many other things: Choosing it. Without conditions, expectations or agendas. Choosing blessed togetherness when I neither feel blessed nor like being together, knowing God has made us to know and be known. He has promised us He is near to the brokenhearted. No doubt He wants us to be near to one another in our brokenness. 

That is why He put us together. And He knows what He is doing. 

Haiti Halftime

We have been here almost half our allotted 6 weeks and we feel strangely at home and have the vague sense we have never lived elsewhere. Having fallen into routine, life has a way of settling into the predicable. 

Here comes the old lady trying to sell me one of the 50 hats on her head as I'm having my morning coffee. I say "no mesi," she smiles and says "pita, pita," later. 

Yes, I will see her later. 

The elderly man that cuts through our yard every morning, wearing an NFL jersey and talking gibberish, but has a firm handshake and a friendly, toothless grin. 

Franklin, the boy who sells shells and is always willing to gobble down any treat I have to offer. 

Bob. 
Roosevelt. 
Alex. 
Fitizin, walking the beach everyday with his pink surf board bag. 

The kids gathering in our yard by evening for games, kickboxing and laughs. 

People. Relationships. 

It occurs to me tonight that for all our plans and efforts here to work, accomplish, provide and build structures, the real work is relationships. 

Why does this surprise me? Because apparently I'm learning this lesson on repeat. Yes I'm a frequent flyer on this one and here in Haiti, God reminds me again. 

He is always about relationship. My relationship with Him and His relationship with every other person I come into contact with. 

It's His priority. He is always pushing the envelope for a closer, deeper relationship. One that is powerful. Effective. Dynamic.

It surprises me because I constantly default to making it about the work. The task. My effort. A product I can point to and get glory, applause and status. But when I seek the Lord about our time here and His purpose for me, He gently and so faithfully reminds me,

 "No. It's all about the people. The work is loving the people I put in front of you. Just do that."

This has a simplifying effect for me that just takes a load off and allows me to take that deep breath I've been needing for days.

Haiti is a complex place, troubles abound and even the most simplistic things are just difficult to get anything accomplished. It is discouraging. And overwhelming. Plagued with doubts, I have wondered if any of our efforts will be effective. 

But then I see Franklin, shell boy, accepting Christ on our porch. My son Caleb sharing the gospel and praying with several teens, leading them to Christ. And I'm reminded, 

Relationships. 

It is God's avenue of choice to work in us and through us. He came to us not dictating and controlling, but inviting us into a relationship with Himself. We can respond or not. Relationships go both ways. 

I do know more than any other thing, it was God's love and His kindness that won my heart over 22 years ago and I know here and now it's His love that can win the day in the hearts of so many here on this island.  

At the end of the day, relationship the measuring rod that we will be accountable for when we stand before God: what did you do with the relationship I offered you through my son Jesus? How did you treat the others around you? What did you do with the people? The others I wanted to love through you? 

Our relationships are our letters of recommendation "known and read by all men" 
(2 Corinthians 3: 1-3), not written with ink but by the Spirit of the living God on the tablets of flesh, that is of the heart." 

Lives changed through the power of the Holy Spirit through my life that has been changed by the power of the Holy Spirit. 

Who is in my letter of recommendation? 

Yes, if that is the measure of ministry, these people are written on my heart by the living God. He asks me to follow in His example of making people the priority, allowing relationships to be the catalyst for His Spirit to work in and through me. He asks me to join Him in this great endeavor of loving people. 

Yes, Lord. Have Your way.

Dreams

I am laying in bed our first night of 42 in Haiti and my thoughts are running amuck. 

Even after my cold shower in the dark, I’m still sweaty, hot and uncomfortable. I've just tucked in my little girl who is in tears already missing home, her bed, her comforts. Also I can't even begin to settle down after my husband killed a giant spider in the sink I just washed my face in. 

This is not going as I had planned in my head. 

How could THIS be our dream? Is this really what we've planned and hoped for so many years? Did we really choose this? 

6 weeks in Haiti, with our family and close friends, but this first night, reality is pressing in like a sweaty fleece blanket in a sauna and we are all second guessing ourselves. 

Dreams are often like that. 

It's simply human nature and perhaps a motivating mechanism to only dream of the good. The easy. The great things that will come once the dream has come to fullness. The accomplishment. We dream in big picture. It is what gets you going and allows God to grow the dream in your heart. 

Being married to a dreamer and eternal optimist, this originated as his dream of escaping the dead of winter to live and minister on a Caribbean island, homeschooling the kids and showing them how the majority of the world lives in poverty with no electricity. Honestly I can say, this dream has been a source of many an argument in our home over the last few years. Not because I disagree, but because I'm a realist and I knew this first night would happen.

It would be hard. 

It's hard to choose the hard for yourself, but it's that much more difficult to choose it for your kids. Even if you know ultimately it will be for their good, as a parent you constantly weigh the hope of what God will do in them through the dream, and what the constant of normal will provide them. 

Since I'm basically "a let's not rock the boat", and I'm married to a "mover and shaker", you can see why there was some friction. However, as the Holy Spirit so often does, in His time, He brought our hearts together and set our feet on a path that we know He has ordained. Individually seeking and yielding ourselves to the Spirit's work in our lives was the key to unlocking God's plan and purpose for our family in this time. This goes for our kids as well. We have prayed and sought the Lord for years about this dream and our kids also had their say and gave their yes. 

But if dreams happen in the big picture, the work to accomplish them occurs in the zoom. The blood, sweat and tears. The little and big steps of faith it took to plan the trip, pulling the trigger on un-enrolling the kids from school, saying goodbye to family and friends and pets for 6 weeks. 

And the steps continue on here, even this first night as we encounter the hard truths of life without power, light, air conditioning, clean water, comforts from home, boiling water so we don't get sick, riding in the open beds of trucks, and swatting away at mosquitos that could give us malaria. 

It's here in the zoom that we have to keep choosing the hard. 

What's so funny is that some of what seemed so hard the first night is no longer hard but normal. Which feels like a gift. To feel some normal reminds us that God is helping us, growing us, and working in us. He whispers in our ears, 

"Hard is good. Keep choosing it. I am with you." 

Once you make a habit of choosing it, we are learning the good comes a little easier. 

And so with a week under our belt and some feelings of normalcy, we are seeking to glean even more out of our experience here, setting our hearts on serving the Haitian people and bringing the hope of Jesus to open and willing people. 

So dream big and watch God meet you in all that is hard, to teach you all that is good!

Living Life with No Regrets!  

Lena, Toby, Caleb, and Lauren Clark

www.ShowMeHope.org

*Follow our 6 week Journey on Facebook and Instagram by searching the Hashtag “#TheHopeProject”.

January

So it’s January. And I’m thinking…..well that came and left in a hurry.  I mean truly, my head is spinning and my heart feels a little achy remembering it. Savoring it.  But too, there are regrets, disappointments and sad lows that weigh heavy. 

January is always a mixed bag. It begs you to look back while thrusting you forward. It’s always in January I feel the truth the strongest. The truth about life.

It’s constantly changing. 

People change. Therefore, relationships are in constant flux. People move. I move. I’m currently on my sixteenth address. That’s 16 moves, people! I tuck my kids in at night to have them wake up bigger, a tad more independent of me than the day before. They are changing. Growing. Which is great, right? 

I’d like to know why it causes a little sicky feeling in my stomach then. It always has. 

Change and I haven’t always seen eye to eye. I hate that just when I seem to find my rhythm in life, here comes change, barging into the room and bossing everyone around. 

Truth be told, however, change isn’t always obnoxious and unwelcomed. Many a season I have prayed down the change from heaven because I was so ready. My soul craved new sights, new horizons and change was gonna take me there.  

It’s the persistence of it that wears me down. Every second, it is happening in the minutiae, but you only really pay attention to the big events that demand you to sit up and take notice. 

Events like January. There is something about January that slaps me around a little, awakening me to the reality that change is happening.  It all makes me feel weary.  

It’s here in this place where I turn to the Lord with my sentimental self and I sense His presence, that beloved still small voice whispering, 

I’m here too. I’m constant too. And, news flash: I govern the change.  

Change and God. 

Both are constant, but only God has the right to govern. And He is a good governor, loving and full of mercy. Even the seemingly bad changes, God promises He can and will weave them for good. God uses the change to accomplish His purpose in and through me. 

If change is His tool, shouldn’t it be my friend? 

Change can be a tricky beast as I have often discovered.  Perhaps it’s why I can dread it so. Life has a way of changing and sometimes I can’t find myself for a while. I neither recognize or like myself. 

I’m thinking this is why Paul wrote these good words to Timothy, 

“Be diligent in these matters; give yourself wholly to them, so that everyone may see your progress. Watch your life and doctrine closely. Preserve in them, because if you do, you will save both you and your hearers.” I Timothy 4:15-16, NIV 

Watch your life and doctrine closely. Why? Because things can change on a dime and if you're not careful, life can slip away from you, morphing into something you neither desire nor recognize. 

At each turn, every crossroad, each new season of life, God desires to walk with me through the change, governing and guiding my heart. He is always after relationship. 

The Message puts it this way,

“Keep a firm grasp on your character and your teaching. Don’t be diverted!” 

Change is constant diversion that requires a continual inner realignment of my soul to stay in step with the Spirit’s work in my life. Herein lies a secret to some good living, my friends: 

I can make peace with the ever-changing path beneath my feet because I’m steadfastly holding the hand of my never-changing Father. 

Because of who He is, I can. 

I can grow older and not desperately grasp at youth. 

I can grow into a mom of teenagers and then send them out into the world without falling apart because they no longer need me in the same way. 

I can keep choosing to fall in love with my husband again and again and again. 

I can seek God in every new place and season because He is already there, beckoning me to draw near and say yes to Him. 

Change is His plan. He is inviting me to participate with Him.  

Whether sweet or bitter, welcomed or resisted, planned or out of left field, change is always an invitation to growth and intimacy. 

And I'm thinking I will respond with "Okay, Lord. Let's do this!" 2015, here we come.

Victory is contagious

As I walk through the Runner’s Expo the day before the marathon, I’m picking up on a repeated theme. I see it at every turn. Placards, t-shirts, bumper stickers. It is phrased in a variety of ways, but the message is the same. 

I can do anything if I can run a marathon. 

Because this is the day before I tackle this giant, and I’m full of doubts and nervousness and fear, I feel like these folks are full of it and a little chuckle escapes my mouth. They might be slightly overrating what this experience is gonna do for them I’m thinking. 

And then I run the marathon. 

And a funny thing happens.  I start to believe it. 

As the euphoria fades and life gets back to normal, I find this very theme permeating my thinking, creeping into every nook and cranny of my life and I start to realize something. 

Victory is contagious. 

It is an amazing feat to buffet your body and make it your slave. To make it kneel to your will and despite all odds accomplish what your heart and mind have set out to do. 

But I have to be honest here. 

I’d love to say I met the best version of myself out there on the road. Training every day, mile after mile. Truth is, I met the worst of me. The me that throws pity parties, takes everything personal and makes excuses. The me that is self-centered, can’t handle criticism and is super moody.  The me that is defeated easily. Quickly. 

Well, ok, to be fair, that’s only half the truth. The whole truth is I also met the best of me out there.  I met me, girl at war with herself, working it out there on the pavement. The me that wants God to win no matter what. The me that is loyal and persistent and brave.

While the feat at hand was overtly physical, what I didn’t see coming was how God was going to use it to raise the emotional and spiritual bar in my life. Habits and patterns of thought that I had lived with for years suddenly were being challenged. 

When I found my self beating the old, well known path to my pit of despair and self loathing, I found the Spirit whisper to me,

Come here. Come up out of there. This isn’t where you live any more. If you can run 26.2 miles, you can overcome this. 

And for the first time in a long time, I believed it. 

Victory is contagious. 

The victory I felt after the marathon was so sweet because I knew myself. I’m no marathon runner. Who did I think I was? The doubts. The fears!  With the honest truth of who I really am smacking me in the face, truly this made the victory that much sweeter and left me craving more. More victorious moments. 

Suddenly I was unwilling to tolerate strongholds that, apparently,  had crippled me for years. Get out of that pit! Stop looking to people to validate you. Quit living for others.  

This victory in one area acted as a catalyst to all these other underlying battles I had been fighting.

I’ve never quite understood that phrase, when the Bible calls us “more than conquers in Christ” (Romans 8:31-39) but I grasp it more now than ever before.  He doesn’t just desire little victories here and there. He doesn’t just call us to conquer. He tacks on that image of more.

More than conquerors.

He doesn’t just call us to isolated, one hit wonders. He calls us to a lifetime of overcoming, through Christ who loved us, seeking Him at every turn, giving us victory against some of our most formidable foes and pitfalls.

But, our victories aren’t just for us. One of the most amazing parts of the marathon was turning every corner looking for my people. I knew they were scattered along the course, with their homemade signs and cameras. They had been there for every mile I trained, every misstep, every ice bath, every horrible foam-roller stretching episode.  I think my victory was just as sweet for them that day.  Maybe just as contagious.

Just keeping it real though, in life I really don’t let others in on my victories very well.  This is because, to tell of the victory, I have to tell the battle. Here, in this vulnerable, touchy place, God is teaching me that victory is contagious. Sure, my victory is for me, but it’s also for the people walking through this life with me. The people watching. When battle stories are shared, with all the agonies of the defeats, as well as the thrills of the victories, there is unique opportunity to speak truth into each other’s lives.

When we see a friend moving back down the path to old ways where we know God delivered them from—because you were at every course by course turn-- you can remind them of the truth. “Hey, no you don’t! Don’t wallow it that pit! Remember that victory? You are more.” 

Isn’t this our role? Our privilege? To stand beside one another and yell our loudest “You can do this!” Or maybe it’s to say; “I was there that day when you did it, when you overcame. I remember your victory! I KNOW you are more than a conqueror.” 

How about a simple “you are not alone.” I couldn’t have run the marathon without my incredible training partners (Emily! Beth!) Just knowing they were with me made me braver, helping me to not give up. I’m convinced that this is one of the biggest ploys of the enemy of my soul: to keep me isolated and alone. Just not really being honest with anyone about what’s happening for reals in my heart. My struggles. My defeats. My victories. 

The best training strategy I can see is to find some kindred spirits and just keep sharing what God is doing.  Keep running after the prize and the promise that there is victory ahead. Swap stories of defeat and victory and share all the gory battle details. Keep letting God get all up in my business and reveal to this weary heart what’s next in the battle plan. 

All I know is I want more. Victory is contagious.

Momma said there'd be days like this

Today I feel like punching someone in the face. 

It’s just that kind of day. 

Some days I wake up fighting mad and I don’t know why. Kinda my version of Breaking Bad except more anger, less action and thankfully no meth.  Clearly not my best self and it humbles me to admit it. Even as I acknowledge it with these words on a page, my pride screams “no” and I want to take it all back, dress it up in a pretty package to make it seem more lady like. More flattering. Less realistic. 

As much as I just want to write about God meeting me on the mountain top, with the sun shining on my face and glory oozing forth from every moment, I know I’m also suppose to share the dark recesses and crevices where He finds me living in loneliness and despair—and share of the sweet things He whispers there in the darkness.  

Momma said there’d be days like this, but honestly I’m thinking I didn’t get a whole lotta direction on what to do with all 24 hours of them.  This too shall pass and the sun will come out tomorrow, and my personal favorite Tomorrow is another day are all true, wonderful lovely statements that sustain me on these days for about 30 seconds. Then I have a full day of struggling through the muddy waters of just getting through it? Which makes me more angry because I know how fleeting life is and losing one day even to my self imposed pity party is just ridiculous. 

So what is a girl to do? Having lived these days like a repeated theme monthly (hormones, anyone?) I have found even here my Jesus is with me, willing to lead me and guide my stubborn heart if I would but let him. Here are a few things he has taught me along the way.

Declare a No Decision Zone. One of my favorite shows when I was little was the Twilight Zone-a dimension between time and space where nothing seems right and you don’t know what is happening. Yep. That pretty much sums it up.  On these mornings, my feet hit the ground and I just know I’ve entered the NDZ. I have to declare this boundary for myself because I know I’m not operating at best decision-making capacity. My judgment is off. My perception is slightly irrational. My thinking is combative and feisty. So this day is not the day to head off to the local tattoo shop with that “living on a prayer” idea I’ve been pondering. Nor is it the day to nip that relationship issue in the bud. Or respond to that email I've been putting off. This day I need both boundary and buffer zone from my own destructive self. Acknowledging I’m not the best version of myself today is a form of self-control and humility that can save me from regret. Of course I know this from experience. Making decisions when you are angry, depressed or irrational rarely turn out great.

Pay attention to your heart murmurings. These days have turned into super interesting days of introspection, which of course can be part of the problem. Too much inward analysis can drive this crazy train, but I’m learning to pay attention to what I’m muttering under my breath. Out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks. What I find myself mumbling about and dwelling on in my mind are keys to understanding what I really believe about others and myself on these days. More often than not, they are lies. Journaling is what God has used here to help me see these thoughts for what they are. Bringing them out into the light. I’ve learned to process with the Holy Spirit through journaling, praying and then applying God’s truth through His Word.  Many of these days have been redeemed because of this Holy Spirit counseling session. They don’t call Him the Great Counselor for nothing!

Open up to a trusted friend. I say trusted friend because today may not be the day to make new friends in the carpool line (did you read my opening line?!) Or unload on your barista. Or let us all in on your sorrows via status update. These are the people who have been proven through the fire. Who can tell something is off in your voice or just by the look in your eye. Call them. Sometimes the only thing I need to know on these days is I’m not the only one who has ever felt this way and I’m not alone. But, (NEWSFLASH) no one can read your mind. Let the trusty friend in.

Don’t feed the animal. It is good and humbling to realize just how open I am to suggestion when I’m in a vulnerable place. For me this means I need the gutter and clutter guards to go up. It’s best for me to lay low on the social media on these days. News feed is not my friend. I have to pay closer attention to my song and movie choices as I ask myself is this helping or hurting me? Feeding the darkness or shedding light on it? 

There ain’t no high like the Most High (Beth Moore-love her!) Now is the time to be uber aware of the tendency to reach out to anything and everything to fill the deep, cavernousness hole I feel on these days and equally aware that nothing can satisfy what I am seeking but God Himself. I need a high. I want to make sure I’m going with the Most High.  The one that doesn’t leave me with regret and death, but gives  life. I’m desperate and He promises to fill me.  Likewise, He has created us with capacity to enjoy natural highs that are good and right and fulfilling.  I’ve learned to tap into these like mad to cope with my crazy self on these days. Exercise is a must. Laughing until I cry. Just Dance 4 with your kids will accomplish these both at the same time! Hugs. Naps. Good food. Counting your blessings. Connecting with trusted friends. All natural God given highs. He knew we’d need them.

After all is said and done, I’m always amazed when the new day dawns how differently I see things. Makes me wonder what in the world I was all distraught over. The sun came out. It’s a new day and I’m feeling good. Sure glad I didn’t punch anyone in the face!