Trust. Stewardship. Tension. A.K.A. One Month Post Iraq

One month ago I was waking up in Iraq. As I sit stateside in a coffee shop in the jacket I purchased there it can't help but feel a bit surreal. And to be honest I cannot help but feel sad. Today as I stood in Forever 21 holding a nice shawl I literally almost burst into tears in the middle of the store. As I picked it up my first thought was "Next time I'm in Iraq this would be a perfect thing to have!" While the thought was beautiful the response of my heart caught me completely off guard.

You see, no matter how hard I try to hear, and no matter how much I plead with God I have no idea when I'll go back. I love my life. I enjoy my job, and I have the most wonderful friends and family here. I am also not in a hurry to go "do amazing things for God" because I know that I already am right now. Yet, the longing in my heart today as I held that scarf was unmistakable. "When, God?" "How, God?" "Why, God?"

One of my favorite people in my current world explains the concept of favor like this: "Favor is the grace that we are given to take the Kingdom into our sphere of influence." Nothing in my mind can explain what I experience when I travelled better. I've never experienced so much grace in a week in my life. I'm made for it.

When I got back to the states I did really well adjusting back the way you'd expect. I jumped back into work, life, etc but by about Tuesday of last week I noticed it. The grace that had so evidently carried me so peacefully and easily prior, during and post my trip was completely gone. I couldn't believe how drastic it was. By Friday I felt like a complete mess. Jobs at work that are usually simple for me were taking twice as long, conversations that should have been easy turned complicated, messy and exhausting. Today I put myself in what I like to refer to as an emotional timeout...not as punishment, but rather a much needed break.

So today I find myself, once again, leaning into tension as hard and as much as possible. I'm trying to lean, as we many times we have to,  into the author and perfecter of the "now" and the "not yet."

I'm convinced that God loves when we thrive in our now. He loves to meet us in our weaknesses and wants us to be full of life and joy right now where we are. God also does this thing where He puts dreams and desires in our hearts. He gives us glimpses into our future, into what can and will be. Through the Holy Spirit, prophetic words, experiences and scriptures we get a vision for our future. If we're not careful though, that vision becomes our idol and we can end up miserable until we see it. We can get strange expectations and disillusioned on the journey. And heaven forbid that the plan not happen how we think it ought to!

The biggest part of stewarding our future is actually stewarding our today. Our heart attitude at this moment is basically all that we have control over. What we choose to believe and how we choose to respond to it is what is actually in our control.

I'm not going to lie. I'm sitting in a coffee shop an hour from home and yet I couldn't feel further from home in my heart. I'm trying not to cry into my outrageously large cup of coffee in front of a bunch of college kids. So much of me is so thankful for where I am. I'm thankful to be 27, free enough to travel, to have a clear mind that helps me work hard, to be gifted at so many random things. But part of me wants to know, "When do I get to run and do what I'm made for at a different level?" "When do I get to be married and be a mama like I know I'm made for?" "When do I get to be surrounded by the culture that I hold so dear and that has so captured my heart?"

And yet, in these moments, like my whole last week, I realized that the best thing I can do is stop trying so hard to get my answers from God like someone who barely hears from Him and just rest. I have decided I will structure my "now" by trusting Him with my "not yet."

Being a mature child of God is really odd at times. For sometimes maturity looks like pressing in, being consistent and growing up. But other times being mature looks like resting, laughing and being child-like. We must figure out what our appropriate response in the moment is. We must steward the moment we've been given and trust that we hear Him enough to know what that response will be.

So yes. It's been 1 month since Iraq. I am forever changed and forever aware that I'm accountable for what I've seen and experienced there. But I'm also accountable to where I am now. Thus, I must write. I will not hold back the truth of the region. The messiness, the sadness, the brutality. But I will also not hold back the glory of God. The promises, the testimonies and the hope. God has not stopped working in the region...far from it! Don't believe me? Don't you worry about it. I'll prove it to you and Holy Spirit will confirm it in your hearts.

Stay Tuned.
-Lara-

"It's as Easy as Riding a Bike."

I'll admit that often times I've felt jaded towards people who share stories about their life where they have a moment where they "finally understand what it is they're born for." Perhaps it's because I have a lot of interests in a lot of different things: I love sports, I really enjoy music, playing piano, and writing. I love learning and traveling. I'm really good at administration and organization, I love baking and cooking. And while I generally love all of these things there's always been something in my heart that yearns for that 'sweet spot' that so many people other people share about coming into.

There's a phrase: "It's as easy as riding a bike." Tonight as I was thinking about my recent trip the Lord kept bringing that phrase to mind but not for the reasons that you may think. When we think about learning to ride a bicycle there are many stages. First you ride a small bike that is associated with your size. Next you graduate to a larger bike but there's still the assistance of training wheels. While you may enjoy riding your bike with training wheels you're always aware that actually there's a greater joy ahead. You may have fun on your bike with training wheels but you're never quite satisfied because you have four wheels instead of two like the big kids. There's a more limited mobility when you're carting around those two extra little wheels.Two extra wheels means more friction, so you can't go nearly as fast, either.

Next comes the humiliation and potential danger of injury as you try with all your might to learn how to balance the bike without said training wheels. You most likely will face humiliation at some point due to completely wiping out over and over and over again. Generally, if you're lucky, you will have a parent who literally will just push you as you try to learn how to hold your bike steady with your own strength. It's a delicate process where you have to learn how to balance, peddle, steer and keep up your momentum all at the same time. In this way the phrase "it's as easy as riding a bike" takes on a completely new meaning because when you're learning, it is, in fact not actually easy. 

It may sound strange to you that God would bring this up in my mind as I think about my recent trip to Kurdistan but to me it makes so much sense. You see, the final step of learning is actually being able to ride! There is something so liberating as you finally learn how to ride your bike on your own. The accomplishment itself actually brings something up inside of you that makes you want to never stop riding again. Eventually you're not even thinking of all that you're doing at once to stay upright. You're just enjoying the ride!

Something happened to me while I was in Kurdistan. How do you explain in words the feeling of finally being at home? How do you describe, perhaps for the first time feeling like you fit, like you're made for the very thing that you're doing? Really, how do you describe being completely at peace in your identity? How do you explain realizing and recognizing a completely different way of life? Discovering a life without training wheels, so-to-speak. How do you try to explain the feeling that comes with the awareness that, "This is what I'm made for. This is what I'm alive to do." How do you put into words that you've suddenly come alive in a completely different way?

In some ways nothing has changed, for I'm still 'riding a bike.' But in another way everything has changed and nothing can remain the same. I'm liberated in a completely different way and I never want to stop riding! It's interesting that Jesus took me all the way to Northern Iraq to help me realize that this is what I'm made for. For, I knew it in my mind-that I was born for this. But to 'ride' for the first time with ease, momentum, strength and energy...there's no feeling like it. No longer do I look with jaded eyes at others because I believe that God has moments like this in store for everyone who would pursue them. Moments for them to recognize what they're made for, and to be in those moments where it truly is as easy as riding a bike, and as liberating as it, too.

This trip was life-changing and in the weeks to follow I hope to share some of the stories of the beautiful people that live in Northern Iraq. I can promise you that it's not what you think. But for now I'm going to enjoy my life that's completely the same and yet completely different.