verbing

Posted on December 8, 2011 by Krysten | Leave a comment

This week has been a lesson on verbs. You remember those things that you learned about in 2nd grade? (at least you would have if you had been in my class.) Verbs are action words… the parts of speech that show motion, action, being, doing. They never just describe other things. They never just sit there and add to something else that’s going on around them. They’re never idle, and they’re not accidental. They are purposeful. They do.

Seems that I’ve been verbing an awful lot this week. crying. seeking. asking. loving. hating. understanding. reaching. begging. yelling. punching. breaking. retreating. battling. compromising. convincing. praying. honoring. wondering. worrying. losing. giving. giving up. overcoming. defeating. forgetting. forgiving. reminding. agreeing. resting.

Some of these actions were a lot easier than others. Many were very, very difficult. But no matter what verb I’m putting into practice, I can’t forget that God is constantly being and doing more than I could ever see or imagine on my behalf. The truth is that I don’t understand what the heck is going on around me right now. Injustice is rearing its ugly head around every corner. Fairness and decency have apparently jumped out the window. Cooperation and doing what’s best have become foreign terms these days. Love is being touted as a feeling rather than as an action that is chosen. I wonder when all the drama will be over.

But in all this, I was reminded today that no matter what, God is always doing on my behalf. I listened to the song Sing Over Me by Bethany Dillon today, which in many ways has become my “go to” song when things are rough. (If you haven’t heard it, do yourself a favor and check it out on iTunes or the link to YouTube) I remember one time, a couple of years back, sitting in a waiting room after being told that I would need to have a mammogram to double check a strange lump that I’d spoken to my doctor about earlier that week. He’d assured me it was probably nothing but referred me just to be safe. Now the specialists weren’t as sure. So there I was, 32 and sitting in the waiting room of the clinic, wrapped in a hideous robe and singing softly to myself over and over:…Whatever should come against me…teach me to be still…This week has been a little like that waiting room….wondering what would happen, being frustrated at the helplessness I’ve felt, unable to correct a situation that could change everything. My control-freaky-ness was working overtime. But in everything, I remembered where to turn…what to ask for. Sing over me, God, quiet me with Your love. Draw me close so I can rest, teach me to be still no matter what’s happening around me or to me.

The weirdest part? I am calm now. I am resting. It doesn’t even make sense. I should be freaking out and worrying and wondering some more…but now that I’ve remembered where to go and what to ask, I’m actually hearing that song He’s singing over me. The Lord is my refuge and my strength. Of whom shall I be afraid? He will be with me wherever I go. He is the way, the truth, the life. He knows the plans He has for me. What has been meant for evil, He will turn into good. GOOD. He is mighty…He will save.

I live in the wonder of Your love
You rise like the sun in my heart
Even when the night draws near to me
There You are

I will wade in the water of mercy
I will walk in the light of Your will
Whatever should come against me
Teach me to be still

As you sing over me
Draw me close to rest in Your peace
Sing over me
Oh, sing

Sing of Your unending faithfulness
That knows no doubt or fear
In the face of all that I don’t know yet
Remind me of who You are

You are mighty
You will save
Rejoice over me with singing
You will quiet
By Your love
Glory over me with singing

Zephaniah 3:17

Good advice

Posted on September 18, 2011 by Krysten | Leave a comment

I’m always amazed at how incredibly gracious God is to us messed up ragamuffins, especially to me. . You poor folks who actually read this thing…I didn’t mean to worry you too much. I know how squirmy you people who love me can get when I have a ~~little~~ huge freak-out and start writing posts like this and I’m not my perky self. I understand how you worry about me because my moods swing from one end of crazy to the other, and with serious quickness. It’s really happened too many times this year. I’m chalking it up to my terribly short memory. You know, the one that always seems to forget somehow that God is completely in control of my everything and that usually when I’m freaked out it’s because I haven’t spent enough time with Him and my eyes are looking in another direction. Yeah, that short memory.

I want to thank you for your prayers…many of you mentioned that you had been praying for me, and I certainly did need it. Several of you sent me messages with encouraging words, telling me what you have experienced in times similar to this, when everything just seemed too…well, too everything. Like things were spinning out of control and you felt imbalanced and unsure of the next step. Thank you for all of that encouragement. What did I ever do to deserve friends like the ones I have? *sigh*

So as you know, all this craziness has been brought on by my workaholic personality. I’ve known about it for a long time, but in the last couple of years I’ve really been thinking about how to make it better. I haven’t exactly figured out the root cause, but it seems as if it is likely several things all together. God’s still showing me all that. But this week, Todd asked me to read a part of a book he’s reading (The Christian Atheist-I read the first few chapters then he hijacked it and I hadn’t finished yet!) because he said that it reminded him of me and my current situation. The author relates his own struggle with being a workaholic, and the process he went through to change. But this part was at the beginning of his real journey, about him basically telling his counselor, after much probing and prodding, that he didn’t feel like he would change because this was just who he was. The counselor leaned over to him and said something like “So, basically, you’re saying that our God isn’t big enough to change you?”

THAT was his turning point. When he admitted that he really was telling God “You can’t handle this job,” that made a world of difference for him. I mean, who says that to God? Who ever could? Obviously He can handle anything.

Okay, that’s great…but I didn’t think that really related to me specifically because I wasn’t telling God that I couldn’t change. I have been telling Him for a long time that I needed Him to show me what the deal was so I could figure out how to fix it. Right there was my first hint, but I didn’t really get it until later in the weekend.

Fast-forward to Saturday morning. I woke up, so happy that I could just reach over and grab a book and read in bed for a while before ever having to get up to do anything. I grabbed a couple of books (nerd alert!) and my bible. I started praying and thanking God for an awesome morning, and asking Him to speak to me. I did that thing that I do sometimes where I ask God to speak to me through His word and I just let my bible fall open, then I read whatever catches my eye on that page. It’s not rocket science, I know. Maybe you have a better way, but I know He has been faithful to speak to me many times like that. I may be random, but He isn’t.

This time, it fell open to Psalm 107, which starts out: Shout praises to the LORD! He is good to us, and his love never fails. Everyone the LORD has rescued from trouble should praise him… Alright. Check. Moving on…

Then it starts explaining all these different types of people and the situations they’ve gotten themselves into, and how when they finally cried out to Him, he rescued them from their circumstances and restored them back to an even better place than when they’d started out. It talked about people who were homeless wanderers, hungry and thirsty, depressed, imprisoned, distressed, foolish, rebellious, enslaved, sinful, physically ill, sailing on high seas, discouraged, etc… Do you see yourself yet? I didn’t. Not until I read the verses again, and in 10-16, I saw my face:

Some of you were prisoners  suffering in deepest darkness  and bound by chains,

    because you had rebelled  against God Most High  and refused his advice.

    You were worn out  from working like slaves,  and no one came to help.

    You were in serious trouble,  but you prayed to the LORD,  and he rescued you.

    He brought you out  of the deepest darkness  and broke your chains.

    You should praise the LORD  for his love  and for the wonderful things  he does for all of us.

    He breaks down bronze gates  and shatters iron locks.

Whoa… that’s me. I’ve been worn out from working like a slave. No one was helping me, or even able to. I was bound by my own self-made chains, suffering with self-scorn and spiraling into a funky depression. So…all I had to do was pray to God? Well that’s weird because that’s what I have been doing and nothing is getting better. But then my eyes fell back on to that part about refusing His advice. Then the part about calling on Him and He would rescue me.

You see it?? All this time, here I was thinking that I had called on God, but all I had really been doing was talking at Him. Remember what I said? I had been telling Him to show ME what the problem was so I could figure out how to fix it. Never once had I called on Him to fix it all for me…to swoop in and rescue me from this latest ridiculousness that I’d created for myself. Never once had I just turned it over to Him and said God, unless you come through for me on this and fix it for me, I’m not gonna make it.

So there it is, all back to trust and obedience. I saw Him just sitting back and shaking His head, with a grin on His face that said finally, you’re hearing Me. That was the key all along…not thinking that I was going to figure out a way to fix all this junk, not that I ever could have, but trusting Him to fix it for me, and to become a little more like His Son along the way somehow.

The coolest part was later when I was meditating on these verses and I couldn’t stop thinking about that word advice. That was the part that I was stuck on…okay, God, what specifically is this advice of yours that I haven’t heeded? I really sensed Him tell me that I’d find out soon enough. So I went about my morning, getting ready to just enjoy an entire day doing nothing related to work, but just loving the beautiful weather (this is my favorite time of year!) and visiting with family and spending time with the delicious man that He made for me. I was nearly giddy just thinking about it. While I was brushing my teeth, I decided to go check the Bible Gateway verse of the day on my phone, which I frequently do as a way to kick-off my day. It said simply:

Do as God does. After all, you are his dear children -Ephesians 5:1

Thank you, Abba. That’s good advice. I AM your child. I don’t need to worry about anything else.

Those who trust in the Lord will find new strength.

ALL joy, ALL the time

Posted on September 7, 2011 by Krysten | 3 Comments

I started my read-along of the book of James today. I’ve read this book several times and there’s always something fresh to be seen. One thing that never changes is that I’m always appalled by one of its opening verses, one that will be very familiar to you if you’ve read this book before, or even have been around church for a while. You probably know it…. Count it all joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of every kind.

Or maybe you’ve heard it and a few other verses like this:

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, ³ because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. ⁴ Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

WHAT!? Joy? When I face trials? Like when life is unfair and bad things happen to good people (even if I think that’s me) and when I lose a bunch of money in the stock-market and when my friend’s daughter gets cancer and when my job demands too much of me, and when a relationship gets broken and when people say things about me that are hurtful and untrue (or true) and when I just can’t take another minute of it all? That’s when I’m supposed to count all those things up and claim that their sum is still joy?

I like how The Message translation puts it:

Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way.

So, not only am I to consider my trials a joy whenever they come at me, but as they come at me from all sides. And furthermore, it’s going to be trials of all kinds! And that really is what it feels like sometimes, isn’t it, friends? Everything’s coming at you from all sides at all times.

Consider it pure joy, a sheer GIFT, even, that you GET to go through this junk. I love that next line, because it’s really true: We all know that under pressure, our faith-life really does get forced out into the open and its true colors are shown. In fact they spill right out into the open, where everyone who was already watching and those who hadn’t before noticed get to see who this Jesus really is to you and if He can actually withstand a bit of shaken ground, or even a full-blown earthquake.

What does James tell us to show?? Joy. That joy can still be found right in the midst of those crazy life-happenings. That moment (or 50) that is just about to be the very last straw…we can rest in real joy. And doesn’t that have something to do with peace that transcends all understanding? Well that may be for another time…

Many more thoughts on this book and believe me, there’s much more application for me to do. Right now I’m sleeping and I have a lot more processing to do before I post on my next thought from chapter 1 of James.

Sweet, joyous dreams to you, fellow readers.

Obedience: I’m in love, again.

Posted on August 20, 2011 by Krysten | 2 Comments

I met a new friend today. His name is Danny. I’m in love.

It’s okay, you can tell my husband. I plan to.

It started when I saw him this afternoon, while I was out and about going several different places across the city in a [failed] attempt to buy some new clothes. Not because I’m running around threadbare or naked. Not even close. (You’re welcome.) I just like to buy a couple of new things each year when school starts. You know, new school clothes.

So in all my driving around I was downtown near the arena district when I spotted my new love. There he was, in the afternoon sun, wearing what appeared to be the same clothes he’d worn for days. His scraggly beard was fairly long. He was missing several teeth (which I could tell from quite far away) and he was at least 5 inches shorter than me.

PERFECT.

However, it was not exactly love at first sight. It was more like love at first nudge. I was in my car, coming up to a red light and in the middle lane. He was standing on the sidewalk to my right, slowly walking. His sign said “Homeless and very needy. Please help.” I watched him from the corner of my eye for just a couple of seconds. I could see the disappointment and a little speck of disdain on his face as every driver and passenger kept their eyes starkly facing forward as he walked by, refusing to acknowledge what they’d surely already seen.

A person. A man. A man in need of something. In need of something so badly that he resorted to begging anyone –everyone– to help.

That’s when I heard our love song. Cranking in my car at that exact moment was:

Your love, Your love/ the only thing that matters is/ Your love, Your love/it’s all I have to give

Your love/ is enough/ to light up the darkness/ It’s Your love, Your love/ All I ever needed is Your love

I knew then that I was his answer, at least for that day. God wanted to use me to deliver some love and maybe even provide him with the means to eat that day. So I started to reach for my purse, to get some money out. The light turned green. All the cars around me started to move and I needed to get over. No one was even thinking about acquiescing to my turn signal. I was starting to create a line of angry drivers who were behind me since I was inconveniencing them by making a last-minute decision to change lanes. It was annoying, I admit. So I hit the gas pedal and moved forward onto the freeway ramp I was right in line for. I had a moment, just a moment, where I thought well, it wasn’t meant to be since I wasn’t able to get to him quickly enough. I’ll pray for him. Then…

Why worry about someone’s soul but don’t bother to give them a basic need when you know you can?

FAITH WITHOUT WORKS IS DEAD. (James Ch.2, the kinda-ghetto Krysten version)

I thought about all the other songs I’d listened to that day while I was out and about doing my thing. The lyrics shot through me light lightning bolts, one right after another.

I want more of you, God…

I’ve found a love greater than life itself….

No place I’d rather be/ than here in Your love…

Nothing can tear us from/ the grip of His mighty love…

He lavishes His love upon us/ He calls us now his sons and daughters…

We’ve only glimpsed/ His vast affection/ heard whispers of/His heart and passion…

So I DID pray, but not for the man. I prayed that he would still be there so I could go do what I knew God was asking of me. (So I guess I was praying for myself?) I got off at the next exit. I turned around. I got back on the freeway. I spotted my man and found a place to park. I walked toward him and was keenly aware of all the confused and frightened scares of the people in the cars when they realized I was talking right up to him.

I tapped him on the shoulder and told him how happy I was that he was still there. (again, was this for me?)

He smiled his toothless smile and hugged me.

I told him I saw him a little earlier but couldn’t get to him, but that I’d turned my car around and came back so I could come give him some money to help him through the day.(Why did I tell him that? What did I expect, a medal!?)

And you know what he said?

He said: “Well, you didn’t have to do that! All you had to do was love me!”

ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS LOVE ME.

He told me his name was Danny. We talked for a while about how the weather was nice even though it was hot, and how his back hurt and how he just sleeps any place he can find, and how he knows the people who owned the building he was standing near but they don’t have anywhere for him to stay in there. He hugged me three times and introduced himself twice in the span of 5 minutes. He’d been on the streets for 25 years. YEARS.

I told him I would look for him again, and I will. I told him I would be praying for him to stay safe and for his back to heal. And I will. He was so thankful to hear that, of all things.

The whole experience took less than 15 minutes, surely. But he will last forever whether I see him again or not. I’d been wondering lately if I’ve been obedient to God, I mean anytime recently. I’d seen such beautiful pictures painted in several lives around me, of just pure obedience and the lovely results that follow. I couldn’t remember the last time I was obedient to a nudge from the Spirit. I’d asked Him to bring something to mind so I could remember it, but God was gracious enough to do me one better…. He gave me a new opportunity to be obedient to his voice. It’s almost romantic.

All I had to do was love him, he said.

Done.

A Week’s Worth of Accusation

Posted on August 11, 2011 by Krysten | Leave a comment

How about we have a little share time, shall we?

Here’s a list of some of the things I’ve heard being said to me this week:

You’re too much to deal with.
No one takes you seriously.
Why bother? You’re just going to go back to the same old crap.
No one really even knows you
Why would anyone care what you have to say?
Wait until they all find out you don’t really know what the hell you’re talking about.
You’re never going to be anything other than some fat chick.
You can’t do anything right.
Apparently the only thing you know how to do right is to eat.
You talk too much.
No one cares about your issues.
You’re not even a good friend.
You always expect too much.
You will always be let down.
Why are you such a fake?
You’re so embarrassing.
If you were more [fill in the blank with 100 different things] that wouldn’t be a problem.
You bring this all on yourself
You should feel sorry for yourself
Your husband isn’t interested in what you have to say. No one is, remember?
No one really notices you or cares to.
Failure is all you have going on.
Why do you have to be so needy all the time?
You are such a freakin’ loser.
You’re ridiculous, thinking some God cares about your issues.
If you really believed in that anyway, wouldn’t you be a little better by now?
You’ve always screw everything up.
Can’t you do just one thing right?
Get yourself together.
What is wrong with you?
Why do you always have to say something?
Just keep your mouth shut, no one wants to hear it
You’re a joke
You’re never going to be good enough
You haven’t changed a bit.

Here are some other (more pleasant!) things that were also said to me this week:

I love you
You’re the bomb
You’re an awesome teacher
You’re beautiful

Now these two lists are actual things that went through my mind this week. Some were literally said to me out loud. Most were things that I heard in my own mind. I don’t share these thoughts so everyone can be like “oh, don’t worry, none of that is true” or anything like that. In fact, I’m not trying to have a pity party at all. I had been trying to earlier this week, but quite frankly right now I am just pissed off.

You see, it dawned on me yesterday that these things have been rolling around in my mind all week. I mean, everyone thinks a negative thought about themselves every now and then, but I have literally been bombarded with negative, self-loathing whispers in my ears all day and night since I woke up Monday morning. I began just thinking I was “in a funk” like I occasionally get in to. Just one of those “off” kind of days. But then the next day and the next day were the same and it just seems to be getting worse.

What is the deal!?

Today it clicked. When I was again hearing the 556,345,234,0293 things about myself that were hideous and awful, I reminded myself to stop and just try to think of all the positive things that had been said to me this week. The 4 listed above were truly all I could recall.

I am not a miserable, unhappy person. In fact, I am one of the happiest, upbeat folks I know. My life is pretty great, actually. I have a wonderful husband, a job that I love and I’m excited to start up again soon, we don’t want for anything, I have wonderful friends who I love spending time with, a church I am proud to be a part of and I get to live the rest of my life as a new creation because of my relationship with God. So..seriously, why would I be hearing all of these loathesome things about myself?? I don’t worry much but I was starting to…Why am I hearing/thinking all these things about myself? Are they true? Do I just think I am happy? Am I really unhappy deep down and these things are starting to come to the surface? I had a momentary thought to that effect, but then quickly shook that off started to get mad because I saw it. I saw that ugliness for what it really was.

Accusation.

I already know that the enemy of God –my enemy– is like a lion prowling around, seeking whom he may devour. How does he try to devour me? With accusation. With lies. He is the father of all lies and just as God can only speak truth because He is Truth, our enemy can only speak lies because he in himself is nothing but deceit. That’s a sad existence. No wonder he wants to beat us down with lies…to make us just as miserable as He is.

So, I began to do what I know we need to do to overcome our accuser:

For the accuser of our brothers and sisters
      has been thrown down to earth—
   the one who accuses them
      before our God day and night.
And they have defeated him by the blood of the Lamb
      and by their testimony. -Revelation 12:10-11

I started to say out loud all the facts that I know about myself…that I am a new creation in Christ Jesus, that the old things have passed away, and the new has come about….that I am now called a child of God and I’ve been adopted into His family and He gives me my identity. I started to combat those nasty lies with the truth… spoken out loud, and in-his-face with an attitude that I know I can afford to have because the God of all creation literally has my back.

But as soon as that flood of words began, I realized that they were being used more for my own self-comfort than they were for weaponry this time. There is something to speaking truth aloud, don’t get me wrong…it is powerful. Many things have been conquered by the Word. But when scripture says to us that “they [all of my brothers and sisters] have defeated him [the accuser] by the blood of the Lamb and by their testimony,” That means it has already been done. That means that they have defeated the accuser simply by having the blood of the lamb (their covering in Jesus) upon them. They have defeated the accuser simply by their testimony…by the life they now life in Christ, imperfect but new, and being made more like Him every day.

Just by us being one of the brothers or sisters of Jesus, we can be sure our accuser is already defeated. So even though I felt like a big fat failure this week…even though last night I went to bed feeling sure that somehow I had let a friend down… even though I see myself not being the best version of me I could be… the fact is that I have already defeated the accuser who keeps coming at me with false accusations, or by taking the true not-so-great moments in my life and twisting them to sound like they are actually who I am rather than just some dumb stuff I’ve momentarily done. I just need to remember that I have already defeated the accuser, even if he does stand day and night ready to continue accusing me.

“You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.” -1 John 4:4

I know who I am. And I know Who is in me.

Become an Abolitionist

Posted on August 11, 2011 by Krysten | 1 Comment

When I saw the trailer for the movie Taken with Liam Neeson, I have to admit, I was more interested in the bad-ass, action-packed individual justice that the main character was layin’ down on the creepy perpetrators than I was learning about the horrors of human trafficking. (I’ve self-diagnosed that I have some special gland that contains a big ol’ reserve of testosterone that immediately begins to secrete the very second I start picking out a movie to watch. Couldn’t care less about sappy romance on the big screen but give me some painful fight scenes and some stuff blowing up and I’m SO there. But I digress…) The point is, I wasn’t so much thinking about the story that the movie was really telling. A story of young people (in this case teenage girls and young women) being literally hunted, stalked, kidnapped, and drugged for the sole purpose of introducing them into the world of forced prostitution. For the sole purpose of someone else making money off of them because yet another someone else wanted to use them for their own sick purposes.

In the movie, these girls were basically drugged up to the point of barely knowing what was going on, then served up to eagerly awaiting men to do whatever their payment gave them access to do. In one scene, I recall a long line of men waiting to walk into a construction trailer. Once they paid and walked in, you could see that the trailer was sectioned off into what appeared to be about 4-foot wide areas, divided by makeshift curtains. Behind each curtain, these men went in to do the business they paid for with a woman or girl who had been drugged into a complete stupor. Dozens of these “rooms” were in the construction trailer, each with a man taking what he paid for from a girl who was there against her will. I was sickened beyond belief at the thought that someone could even think up such a sick think to put into a screenplay, let alone thinking that this *might* actually ever really happen anywhere.

Little did I know…

The rest of that movie presented me with much more to ponder [big fat understatement]. Truthfully, I was severely disturbed by it. Afterward I could barely sleep. I hopped online and tried to read what I could about trafficking. The simple fact that there was so much to read turned my already queasy stomach. I learned that human trafficking is a lucrative business [big fat understatement] in many countries around the world, including the US. I learned that it was the second largest organized crime focus in the world, with only drug trafficking topping the charts in the world of all things terrible. I was overwhelmed by facts and figures with numbers too big for me to fathom. I closed my laptop thinking that, although it was a real problem, it was just too big for someone like me to actually do anything about. Besides, even if I could, where would I begin?

Enter Doma. The founder of Doma International, Julie Clark, came to our church a while back and gave a presentation as kind of an “HT 101.” There I learned that this whole human trafficking thing isn’t something that happens just in poor Asian countries or near the Mexican borders. She shared with us the unfortunately true story of a middle-class teenage girl from West Jefferson who thought she had found a boyfriend to party with. Instead, she found a young man who introduced her to large amounts of crack over a long weekend. He suggested that she come downtown to Columbus where they could get easier access to their drugs. As they hung out together, he freely gave her highly addictive amounts, and she assumed she just was having a great time with her new friends. After several days of this, he and his friends proceeded to ask her how she planned to pay for the drugs they had given her. She was confused, never understanding that she was supposed to pay them back for their “generosity.” When she told them she didn’t have any money to pay them back, they were quick to offer an alternative means of payment. Having run away from her home with a virtual stranger and now already addicted to the high that crack gave her, she submitted to the fact that she was trapped. The “friends” took her upstairs to a large selection of clothing, and proceeded to dress her up and teach her how to pay back her debt and earn her highs from now on…which, by the way, were now much smaller than the doses the man had freely given to her before she realized she was entrapped.

My head was spinning. That happened here? In MY beloved city, where I grew up? The answer was yes. And many other things, very similar to this, happen on a regular basis in this city and in similar cities all over the state and country. In fact, I learned that one of the worst cities for minors entering into the sex trafficking world is Toledo. Children are being stolen and drugged and forced into a life they never even knew existed, to spend the rest of their short years doing things they should never have even heard of….And this is all happening right here in our own back yards. Every night. And it could be your child.

Unless…

Unless people stop putting their hands over their ears and changing the channel and drowning out the sound of the cries of these women and children. If we start educating ourselves, learning simple signs to watch out for, memorizing a phone number that any of us can call to report a possible trafficking victim, praying for these perpetrators to not be able to accomplish their sick purposes any longer….unless we start doing those things, it won’t get better. It will get worse. Unless we start pooling our time, talents, and resources to help these people…they won’t get help. Period. Unless we become new abolitionists for this new type of slavery, nothing will change, will it?

That’s what Sunday night was about. Sunday night, my husband and I attended Night of Hope, which was an event hosted at Veritas Church by a group pf people who have launched a campaign called She Has a Name. The event was to create awareness of the problem of human trafficking both locally and abroad, and to highlight a few awesome organizations that are already fighting the fight against this modern-day slavery every day. Maybe you would be interested in finding out more about them and partnering with them in some way to help get women off the streets and back into a safe place where they can know their self-worth. Maybe you could become part of the fight to keep little children in their own warm, safe beds in their homes at night instead of being forced into a cold room with a dingy strange bed, with many men each night who are stranger still.

Here is a list of the organizations present at the Night of Hope, a quick blurb about what their main focus is, and a way to contact them for more information. At the very least, please visit the web sites for each of these organizations to educate yourself. Know that human trafficking is a form of modern-day slavery: people being bought, traded, and sold into situations where they become enslaved for the gain of others. And know that there has GOT to be a solution to this disgusting problem. And know that YOU can choose to be part of the solution.

Doma International http://domaconnection.org/ Doma focuses on meeting needs of vulnerable women and children. Here in Columbus, they partner with an amazing program called CATCH Court, presided over by Franklin County Judge Paul Herbert, which provides an intensive recovery program for women convicted of prostitution (which many times is or began as human trafficking)
Gracehaven http://www.gracehavenhouse.org/ An organization that focuses on caring for minors who are involved in Domestic Minor Sex Trafficking. (That means here in the US, folks) They are building a home where young people can exit that life and begin a new one through rehabilitation and support.
As Our Own http://asourown.org/ In India, girls are particularly vulnerable to poverty and exploitation on a daily basis. This organization literally rescues young girls from brothels in India’s red light districts, and provides them with care until they are adults who can care for themselves. These girls are rescued from the most terrifying life imaginable, and placed into a family where they will be cared for — forever. Very unique situation and very inspiring.

if you’ve stuck with me this long, chances are you’ll check out some of these sites. And when you do, you’ll likely feel a break in your heart for these women and children. And you’ll likely want to do something about it. Thankfully, due to the hard work of these folks, you have plenty of places (even ones in addition to these!) to step into and help the least of these.

You can be an abolitionist. You can help end the newest form of sick slavery. You can make a difference in someone’s life. What if it was your child out there right now? What would you want others reading this to do to help?

Think of that. Then go do it.

Much love to you all…..

The King will reply, “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” -Matthew 25:40

Still Listening…

Posted on July 26, 2011 by Krysten | 2 Comments

If you’ve never read The Color Purple by Alice Walker, please go get it ASAP. It’s one of those read-before-you-die kind of books. Here is an excerpt from the book… it’s a conversation about God between two women, Shug and Celie:

Listen, God love everything you love – and a mess of stuff you don’t. But more than anything else, God love admiration.

You saying God vain? I ast.

Naw, she say. Not vain, just wanting to share a good thing. I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it.

What it do when it pissed off? I ast.

Oh, it make something else. People think pleasing God is all God care about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back.

Yeah? I say.

Yeah, she say. It always making little surprises and springing them on us when us least expect.

You mean it want to be loved, just like the bible say.

Yes, Celie, she say. Everything want to be loved. Us sing and dance, make faces and give flower bouquets trying to be loved. You ever notice that trees do everything to git attention we do, except walk?

Well, us talk and talk about God, but I’m still adrift. Trying to chase that old white man out of my head. I been so busy thinking bout him I never truly notice nothing God make. Not a blade of corn (how it do that?) not the color purple (where it come from?). Not the little wild flowers. Nothing.

Now that my eyes opening, I feels like a fool.

This is one of my first memories of myself thinking about God. I mean really thinking about Him. I had to read this book for a class. I was only a teenager. I wasn’t even close to being a believer of any flavor, let alone a born-again Christian. I just remember the moment I read this, then read it again, and then over and over, I realized for the first time that God might be something (or someone) I had never dreamed of before. He might be more than “White Jesus” (this is the name I unaffectionately use to refer to the fake presentation we see mostly in those awful paintings with a glowing fishbowl around the head of a stark-white, blue-eyed, cojone-less sort of saintly figure who doesn’t really possess any power other than to make others feel guilty for not being as saintly or as white. Capisce?)

I briefly allowed myself to wonder, could there be more to this God thing?

Right after that I probably went about my everyday business of partying or whatever mess I used to get into back in those days. I didn’t have some big, light-shining-down moment that changed me forever. My journey was and continues to be much, much more subtle, but I’m convinced that it started way back then. It started when I first thought of God as more than a “He” and more than a keeper of cosmic scorecards, of which mine was dramatically marked up with a lot of red X-es. I began to see the idea of what might just be God as more than just something you experience when or if you go to church.

I’ve always been a lover of nature…not one of those going camping every weekend types…but almost childlike in my love, awe, and appreciation for all things around me that happen and exist naturally; a buzzing honeybee, the foam created from the ocean kissing the sand, the delicate veins in a perfectly symmetrical maple leaf, and…clouds! Oh how I loved (and still love) looking at clouds! I just figured I was a person who enjoyed things like that, I never thought anything else about it. But over many years I have come to realize that these things…these moments when I notice the small things around me that have been created by God, I know they are the artwork of the One who loves me and wants to delight me with His creation.

Could it really be…God is mad about me, not mad at me? It almost seems scandalous. The Creator of all the universe, the One who breathed and spoke everything into existence, loves me and is trying to get my full attention on a daily basis?! It’s true, my friends…and it’s certainly not just true for me, but for every one of the 6+billion people on this planet, all created in His image.

“…God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners.” -Romans 5:8

“So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus.” -Romans 8:1

“And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.” -Romans 8:38-39

Like I said, I never had this big, monumental sign that God was real and He loved me. It happened in a thousand small moments that accumulated into me finally admitting that I couldn’t ignore the clues anymore…I couldn’t push away the fact that I was starting to see all the loosely bound connections firming up into definite pathways. I was no longer interested in chasing after all the various things I had been, none of which ever resulted in giving me peace. I came to a place where I was pretty sure I was ready to surrender myself to something that was way more vast, way more good than I’d ever dreamed. Then I heard this song by a band that called themselves a Christian rock band, which I’d never even heard of before. “Christian” music that I actually enjoy listening to? Whaaaaatttt??

I looked for you in
The fire and the wind
But you weren’t there as far as I could see

I thought I’d hear you shout
But then I figured it out
That all along you’re whispering to me

And I’m still listening…

That was me. I knew it was. I knew that while I had been busy looking for “it” all over the place, searching for some huge moment in my life that would define me and validate me and encourage me and strengthen me and show me what life was really about, all along I had missed the hints and whispers of what was right in front of me. I knew that this band, these singers who were followers of Jesus, were talking about looking for and finding God. I felt a little like Celie in The Color Purple.

“Now that my eyes opening, I feels like a fool.”

But that foolish feeling quickly turned into a peaceful rest that I’ve really known ever since. Not perfectly, not without wrinkles and tears in the pages of my life since it all began for me. But a peacefulness that keeps my eyes willingly wide-open to these things, so I can share them with others and point out the whispers that are around them so they don’t miss the good stuff that God is trying to catch their attention with. But just in case they do miss it, and in the not-totally-unlikely event that I also miss it, I take comfort in knowing that God (as Alice Walker so simply put it) will just make something else to catch our attention.

Pain, Joy, and Thankfulness on Mother’s Day

Posted on May 8, 2011 by Krysten | 4 Comments

Yesterday my husband had been texting back and forth with our pastor, who also happens to be a good friend. They had just returned from a trip but flew home on different days so he was checking in with us to make sure Todd had landed safely and such. I was teasing him about texting while driving (don’t worry people, it was mostly in between much more dangerous moves) and he said “I’m just going to let him know that we won’t be at church on Sunday then I’ll be finished.” Why wouldn’t we be at church on Sunday? Then he reminded me that it was Mother’s Day, which I (and by extension, we) have dreaded for several years now. I’ve pretty much avoided being anywhere that might include a big to-do about being a mom, because you see…although I do not have any children myself, I actually am a mother. And that makes Mother’s Day confusing, sometimes offensive, and always a somewhat painful.

One reason that I’ve dreaded the M Day for many years is because of something I very unfortunately share with millions of other women across the nation: I am a mother who never gave her child a chance at life. Yes, that ugly thing you’re thinking about is true: abortion. As much as it pains me to admit, I have experienced the crushing pain of knowing that my child’s life was taken before it really began, and the even more excruciating reality that it was my own selfishness that took it. For years I could barely even think about it, much less speak or write about it. But God has done some amazing healing work in my life and has shown me that if I am willing, He will take even the ugliest parts of my messed-up life and will use them to gain glory for His name. I now know that it was not for my own sanity that He has led me to an incredible place of knowing what His mercy really means —mercy, MERCY! to someone who participated in taking her own child’s life — but so that I can remember the mercy I have been shown and be able to show it to others in the worst of circumstances.

Another reason why I have never cared for Mother’s Day is that I am a stepmom, which for some reason seems to be a more terrible thing than being an axe-murderer. When I was married, my life didn’t just change by becoming the wife of a man who was full of integrity and honor, but it changed because I also instantly became a mother to an adorable young boy. I love that boy as much as I love my husband. He accepted me into the family so easily that it was almost surreal, and we became very close almost immediately. Yes, I know what some of you are thinking…well, that just means your a step-mom, not a real mom. And you would be part of the reason I’ve always stayed home from church on Mother’s Day. I actually had a woman stand in the church lobby once, telling me a story and said something to the effect of “well, I know you’re not a mom, but…” I interrupted her and reminded her that I in fact was one, to which she replied “well, I know, but I meant you’re not a real mom.” I suffered through the rest of her story then went into the bathroom and cried. It has been said that stepmothers have all of the work, sacrifice, and commitment that a biological mother has, but none of the benefits or reward. I think in many cases that is probably true. I remember a few times when my son (no, I don’t call him my step-son) said something to the effect that I was more of a mom to him than his actual mom was. I know that in our family’s case, because of her choices, that is very true. But in all families that is not the case. Most of the time a stepmother is not an evil wench who can’t wait to have her “own kids” to somehow out-do the competition, but rather another loving mother who wants to help raise wonderful children, no matter where they biologically came from. If you are a stepmother and you treat any of the children under your care any worse or better than others, then shame on you. You are not fulfilling the obligation that you signed up for when you made your wedding vows, knowing full well that all of those words also applied to the daughters and sons you inherited through marriage. I don’t care what anyone says about me, I know that I am a mother. I love my son (even though he is far from being a little boy anymore) and would give my life for him. If that’s not a mother, I don’t know what is.

Not a real mom. You don’t have kids so you wouldn’t understand. It’s not like you have your own kids. These are some of the things people, mostly other women, have said to me verbatim. Many times it has been people in my own family who know about my past, know that my grown son is now a prodigal in the most complete sense of the word, and know that we will not be having any more children. And they say these things anyway. It used to bother me, eat at me, drive me to tears and anger. Now, I am much closer to God than I ever was and because I realize His plan for me, these ignorant comments are easily deflected, even when I know they were purposely meant to hurt my feelings. (Yes, people unfortunately are that cruel.) Because just like Joseph, what was meant for evil in my life, God has turned to GOOD. Now, not only do I not live in shame and fear that someone will find out about my past, I willingly share it to help others in the same situation. I lead others through a recovery group for post-abortive women, to help them work through the overwhelming amount of contradicting feelings they have once they realize the gravity of their choice. I’m healed, they can see it is possible, and they begin to heal. Now, even though my husband and I will not be having any more children, it is not something that I feel is a lost opportunity. Rather, God has brought me to an incredible place where I understand that being a mother has a much, much larger definition than I ever dreamed it could. He guided me to Isaiah 54 years ago where I saw that He had even bigger plans for me…

“Sing, barren woman, who has never had a baby.
   Fill the air with song, you who’ve never experienced childbirth!
You’re ending up with far more children
   than all those childbearing women.” God says so!
“Clear lots of ground for your tents!
   Make your tents large. Spread out! Think big!
Use plenty of rope,
   drive the tent pegs deep.
You’re going to need lots of elbow room
   for your growing family.   -Isaiah 54: 1-6, The Message

I am a teacher and I literally get the chance to mother hundreds of children, many of which do not necessarily have a Godly mother to teach them at home. The joy I get from that is incredible, and at the end of the day when I finally make it home, I now understand why my energy has been completely spent on my kids at school, and that’s how it is supposed to be for me. Thank you, God for allowing me to appreciate that now and never feel like anything is missing.

So today, I am excited to greet my friends with a “Happy Mother’s Day.” I don’t have to avoid anything or stay home depressed or keep from being joyful for those who have always enjoyed this day without exception. I will smile and truly be happy for them and for myself on this day. I am no longer thinking of the loss and the shame and the bitterness that once surrounded this day. God has made all things new, as He always does. I appreciate the incredible mothers, young and old, that I have around me who come in all shapes, sizes, and types. And I’m thankful to count myself among them because I know that God has allowed me to be a mother, even if it looks a little different than most. I’m thankful that my little girl is with Him, and He is caring for her the way I never could, but that I will have the chance to see her someday. I am thankful that God’s arm is still not too short to save my prodigal son and bring him back someday. I am thankful that, as painful as it is, my husband and I are standing together to wait until our son understands that all he has been searching for is the same thing we all search for…God’s love. I am thankful that this day, I will be focused on the Good that God has promised me, in any way that it comes.

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.”-Isaiah 43:18-19

Our Story, Part 1: A Repayment

Posted on January 1, 2011 by Krysten | Leave a comment

With the relative anonymity we have as bloggers, I can write this without feeling like I am bragging (too much anyway!) You see, several friends of mine, both close friends and those who have not even known us for very long, have commented about what a wonderful marriage my husband and I have. I have to agree with every one of them. You see, my husband and I both came from somewhat sketchy backgrounds with a LOT of baggage. Some of it was self-imposed and some was a result of things that have been visited upon us without our consent or desire. Either way, junk is junk…and we both had a lot of it. So much so that the greatest compliment of our lives is when someone finds out about something in our past and says “oh my gosh, I would never have believed that about you!” Thank you, Jesus, for making that possible!

Anyway, the reason I say that is to say this: I think that after all we’ve both been through and amazingly survived, I feel that God has put something very special into our marriage to make up for those years we both were going through so much junk. One of my favorite and most applicable bible verses comes from the tiny little book of the prophet Joel, in 2:25 where God says: “I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten…” Its a weird verse to quote when talking about what a great marriage God has given us, but let me put it into perspective if you’ve never read the book of Joel. The prophet is bursting out with lament for what has just happened. God has allowed His people to suffer the most devastating plague in all of history: an enormous swarm of locusts. These locusts came upon the land and basically ate everything in site, so that there were no crops left to speak of. With this being an agrarian culture, of course they could not just go down to Kroger’s and buy some more food. That was it. With every crop in the land ruined, the people were staring down the barrel of sure starvation. This wasn’t just a problem for what they were going to eat for dinner that night. It would take years to plant, grow, and harvest brand new crops. What’s more, they could not give offerings from their harvests as they were required to do in order to make themselves right with the Lord. This was a BIG problem. But they had long since turned to other idols, prostituted themselves out for the most base of things, exchanging the incredible relationship they had with the God of the universe for a lesser way of life, to say the least. And so here we are in the book of Joel, reading this tongue-lashing from the prophet, telling all of Israel how they had messed up and how they should be distraught! He goes on to tell them not to “rend their clothing” (an outward sign of mourning) but to “rend their hearts” and return to the Lord. You see, God didn’t (and doesn’t) want fake, religious-looking worship or offerings…He wanted HIS people to have their hearts torn in two when they looked at themselves and saw how they had really turned from Him. So he tells the people, after recounting all that they were suffering through because of their terrible choices:

Rend your heart
       and not your garments.
       Return to the LORD your God,
       for he is gracious and compassionate,
       slow to anger and abounding in love,
       and he relents from sending calamity.

Who knows? He may turn and have pity
       and leave behind a blessing—
       grain offerings and drink offerings
       for the LORD your God.

Then God responds with these promises:

I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten—
       the great locust and the young locust,
       the other locusts and the locust swarm
       my great army that I sent among you.

You will have plenty to eat, until you are full,
       and you will praise the name of the LORD your God,
       who has worked wonders for you;
       never again will my people be shamed.

Then you will know that I am in Israel,
       that I am the LORD your God,
       and that there is no other;
       never again will my people be shamed.

Ever since I first read this tiny little book of the bible years ago, I knew it was speaking right to me…right into my life. God was telling me that all those years before I found Him were not a waste. He was working, even then, on repaying me for the years that I was allowing to be eaten up by other, much lesser, things. So before I can start relating the story of how my wonderful marriage came to be, and what the keys are to keeping it that way, anyone who is interested in that must know that my marriage (and most likely yours too) is more than just a partnership. Its more than just a legal formality. Its even more than a great love. Its a real life illustration of redemption and repayment, just as God promised.

In part 2 I promise to get to the how-everything-happened-and-how-its-so-great and all that stuff. Stick with me.

To Be More Free

ordinary life, extraordinary freedom

Category Archives: God’s promises