Hello friends! My month in the high altitudes of Bolivia is wrapping up. My team this month has faced a lot of altitude-related sickness. Please keep us in your prayers 🙂 This month we worked in a rehab center located on the highest city in the entire world! We will be traveling on to Chile and I can’t believe that I will be beginning my second to last month of the race. Thanksgiving is so close I can almost taste the pies 🙂 But, I am so exited for what the Lord has for us these last two months! The other day, I was sitting in a church service and these are some of the reflections the Lord gave me. So instead of trying to follow along to the spanish sermon I scribbled some things down in my journal.
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I used to think that my faith made me uncool. But then one day, I’m not sure when, but one day, I realized my faith was the coolest thing about me.
I used to think it would cause me to not fit in. It meant people wouldn’t like me, or that I couldn’t relate to people. But then I realized the opposite. I think my faith causes me to understand people in a deeper way. We all live on this earth and we all live pain, heartache, rejection. We all wonder why? We all wonder if there is something more.
My faith means I have grace and forgiveness. My faith means I can help my friends through their hard times because of a faith and hope I hold onto. It means I have hope; hope to share. It means I can tell my friends about the God of the universe who made the stars and the mountains, and loves them deeply and fiercely. My faith means I have a heart of grace and compassion for people. For me, my faith, or maybe rather just the circumstances of my life (which are so closely tied together it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other starts) means I have a tender heart and a listening ear for others.
One time my friend once told me that “your story screams the fruit of faithfulness. The storms rage, the winds blow, the rains may flood sometimes. You could give up, loose hope, but no! You are so strong, and so faithful. You chose hope in Christ and you trust in His goodness. You are anchored in faith, you stand indestructible. You’ve chosen faith.”
I think I’ve spent some time running from my faith. There was a season where all I could see about my faith were the things that were offensive, the things I didn’t understand, the things that had embarrassed me in front of my friends.
During this season of wandering and searching, which sometimes I think I am still in, my life looked funny. I was always so torn. I never knew if I should go to a church event, or if I should go get mexican food and margaritas with my friends.
I didn’t always enjoy being different, and more than that, I remember wanting to know why it was worth being so different. This way of life was the way I grew up in, and I wanted to see if it stood the test, facing the real world of college and hockey and life and friends.
I wondered if this was the right way to live. I wondered if there was something beyond this tradition and set of ideas and practices that had defined my life. I wanted to separate myself from the culture and language and circles that represented that world. But at the same time, I desperately wanted it and saw the need in my life.
There was something inside me that would never let me get too far from God. There was a faltering yet hopeful voice that said, “stay, we have room for you here.”
Through this journey, there was a tiny bit of hope inside me, not like a fire, just a tiny little flame, that said that maybe this faith was worth living.
As I traveled my own way through this path, I could see the road in front of me leading me back to my roots, to the traditions I held. Against all odds, I am finding myself to be a person who is drawn, dare I say committed, to the church, to God- showing that He is in fact gracious and kind of a jokester. I find myself drawn to this way of living, this Jesus, and this way passion and compassion that had surrounded me.
I’m beginning to respect the journey, the ways you would respect the great big ocean if you’ve ever drifted out too far and were surprised by the waves. I can see what the journey can do in people. I see what it is doing in me, and I don’t take it lightly. I have some very weighty memories that I carry with me as reminders of that season. They remind me how dangerous that path is, and how beautiful redemption can be.
As I’ve gone, it seems like I have actually collected more questions that answers, but I’ve fought for a few ideas that have formed a rock I can stand on, a life I can make peace with, a dream I can cling to.
I’m immeasurably thankful to have been born into a community of faith. And I’m deeply thankful that this community of faith is allowing me the space and freedom to travel this path and work through the questions I still have. I’m thankful for patience, grace, forgiveness and guidance I have been given.
I’m thankful for that constant flickering tiny spark that has fought to keep burning. For a while, I didn’t think it mattered much. But now, like I said, I see it as the most precious, even coolest thing I have.
