"The DR Stole My Heart" Guest Post

This was written by my fellow DR missionary and friend, Katie. I think she perfectly describes the trip last year and the excitement we all have for this one. Enjoy reading and please keep us in your prayers!

The title I think speaks for itself. On July 10th about 39 people (teens and leaders) and I will be heading to an airport with the destination of Barahona, Dominican Republic. We are all very excited to say the least, but there's still twelve days left... twelve days to practice drama, music and puppets. Pack, and get everything ready to go. We will be staying in a place called “The Palace.” It's very nice but also near the people, which is nice. We will be building a wall at the ministry house where the “In Calvary’s Care” hosts are. We will be working on other homes and doing tons of ministry. I’m so excited to see the kids and everyone from last year. Honestly, I’ve been looking forward to this since the day I left last year. I’ve taken four years of Spanish so I’m very hopeful that it will all pay off during the week we're there. Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers as we come into the last stretch of getting ready for the trip. Thanks so much for all the support we’ve recieved so far. We are beyond thankful for the prayers, good thoughts and donations toward our trip!! I personally must give a BIG THANK YOU to the WTHS teachers and staff that donated to my trip, as well as to my sisters' through buying candy bars and pizza kit sales. We look forward to telling everyone about the trip when we return home!!

PAST, PRESENT & FUTURE HAPPENINGS IN THE DR

As many of you know I went to the DR last year for ten days. I expected many things. Hardship, to be shocked culturally, to be completely hurt from seeing the hurt there, and I expected it to be a memorable trip. It was all of that and more. I was blown away from the kindness and joy we were shown by the ministry group “In Calvary’s Care;” the translators were awesome and the people were open to what we had to say. As sad as it is to say, here in America we're not exactly open to what others have to say as much as we used to be…but that’s just my opinion and that's not of everyone. Yet there we were invited to come into their homes to share God’s love and Word with them. It shocked me because if someone asked to sit with me in my home that was a complete stranger about something and their faith, I would probably be freaked out and ask them to leave, but they were totally accepting which was cool.

We worked hard; we built a wall out of hand, stirred cement and rocks we went hunting to find for someones home so that it would stay stable. We helped build an orphanage, worked on another home/bathroom & a lot more. To say the least we got down and dirty with the best of them. They helped us build their homes, and they did it with a smile. I’m sorry but I’ve never asked the electrician, plumber or any of them if they wanted my help to repair my home, although that's probably a good thing and I should never mess with that either but that;s not the point. The point is they were willing... Willing to work for a better tomorrow.

I honestly could ramble on forever about how wonderful the experience was, how my perspective on things has been changed forever. The beaches were beautiful. The hurt was heart-wrenching, and much of it... much because of the earthquakes and such from last year. It’s this simple... I saw a place where people need love and help... and I want to help them get it. I don’t know whether I’m going to continue these missions every summer...I would love to but God only knows. I don't ever see myself living there but I do see myself doing the best I can to continue summer missions over there.

The fact is, we need help here in the US almost if not the same amount of help that the Dominicans do. We are better off but we have our own issues, so I think it's important to stick together in them. The DR helps me realize that.

this is me

Ambition: Become a fabulous nurse (at least RN BSN but I might also get my MSN CRNP) and earn some sort of biblical degree or certification; get married to a wonderful godly man; have a ton of kids (six I'm hoping); do children's ministry, youth ministry, women's ministry, worship ministry, or all or some of the above; write books; be a teacher of the Word.

Bad Habit: Rambling (although not as bad as my mom), getting myself on screwed up sleep patterns

City: Doylestown. Not your typical New York/Boston/Chicago type city. But a city nonetheless.

Drink: diet coke, coffee, and caffeinated tea.

Education: Next school year I'll be a junior at Plumstead Christian.

Food: This is still a difficult question for me to answer. One thing I like is authentic Mexican food, but there are a lot of Mexican things I don't like, and I like a lot of other things as well. I don't really have a "favorite."

Guilty Pleasure: In my battle with the Sonic drive-in, Sonic wins, every time.

Hometown: This is a really complicated question for me lol. I was born in New Tripoli, PA, but my parents got divorced when I was three. My mom moved to Allentown, PA, and my dad moved to center city Philadelphia. My mom still lives in Allentown, but I've moved with my dad to Huntingdon Valley, PA and Chalfont, PA. Twice. So, yeah.

Ice Cream: Cold Stone.

Jonesing for: the DR trip.

Kryptonite: I've literally sat here for like ten minutes thinking about it, and I don't know.

Look-a-like: People have told me they know girls who look like me but never anyone I know or a celebrity or anything.

Movie: Saving Sarah Cain is a good one. And there are a few others too. I'm not a huge movie junkie.

Nickname: Liz, Lizzy, Lizzle, Lizard, Mow, Maimai, Biwl (I'm not just making up an exhaustive list, at least one person in my life calls me by each one of these.)

Obsession: Jesus.

 Perfume: I don't care about the name, if it smells good I buy it and/or use it.

Quirk: I'm really strict on modesty. At least that's what people say. I'm addicted to diet coke, and I don't like pizza.

Regret: Regrets are dumb.

Starbucks: Right now, it's a tall iced skinny caramel latte. But it changes.

Thrift Find of the Year: An authentic Asian dress with cherries instead of cherry blossoms on it.

University: I don't know yet, I'm hoping Messiah College and then maybe Calvary Chapel Bible College afterwards.

Vacation: I don't go on vacation. lol.

Wine: I drink whatever wine my aunt offers me at Christmas, and that's about it.

X-rays: Teeth, CAT scan after a concussion (fun fact: I have a pineal cyst on my brain that was found at this CAT scan. absolutely harmless.), and my shoulder after I dislocated it. I've had other injuries too that didn't need x-rays. Figure skating is a dangerous sport.

Years: sixteen

Zen: sitting at my church's coffee shop next to a sister in Christ casually talking about Jesus, on my laptop, drinking a mug of hot coffee or tea.

Reflections on Everyday Life and All Its Glorious Implications

Last night I went to Doylestown to hang out at Main St. Baptist with some of my friends - like I do often. My friends' band was playing, and their parents, who are my youth pastor and his wife, were also there. Some other friends too. We were just chillin, when my youth pastor's wife, Jill, came up to me, gave me a hug, and stated, "You know, I'm so glad we've got the old Liz back."

Jill and me with our friend Alisha on the right three years ago on a mission trip

Now of course she was not talking about my old sinful nature. I've known this woman-after-God's-own-heart for almost four years, and I was about six months old in the Lord when I first met her. A whole lot has happened in those four years of my life, and she's seen the real Liz (bubbly, dancing, hiiiiiohmygoshihavetosharewhatthelordsdoinginmyhearthowcaniprayforyou?, singing and shoutin them praises high, "having a way with those kids" as she would say) as well as the dead one (only comes to youth group occasionally, noidon'thaveanyprayerrequests under her breath, shy and reluctant to do any sort of ministry, looks like she could shatter into a million pieces if you dare touch her). Unfortunately, for the past few months, I've been the latter. But now I am authentic and real, for the first time in like, seven months or something. And can I just say it feels really good.

I'll be blunt here: I binged and purged the other day. I hadn't used any symptoms at all in quite a while (I lost count of the days, but probably at least 15) and I felt like I must have been missing out on something -- after all, when I was so incredibly sick I refused to let go of my eating disorder for even a day because I loved it that much. So I bought in to Satan's lie, said hey, let's just do it for old times' sake, can't hurt anything. Well, false. But that God of mine works in mysterious ways, and He even uses our sin to teach us things (crazy, right?). A little graphic here: I only purged a small portion of it, because shortly after I began I thought, seriously? That's what I was living for? This is uncomfortable, and pointless. Excuse me but, um... I've got better things to do. It's funny how God just took away all memories of what it was really like, when just three months ago I was doing it 3+ times a day, it was my entire life. Maybe for a reason I need not tamper with too much.

Sometimes producing fruit in repentance proves difficult and wearisome. But it is so worth it.

Allie's and my victory hug after dominating at the Melting Pot

On a brighter note, last night I started sign interpreting songs again. A girl was doing it in worship and it brought me right back to when I used to do it. I missed it. So naturally I stayed up till 5 am refreshing my memory. And was consequently ten minutes late for my Sunday school class at church this morning. Awesome. Anyway, once I get this webcam I'm hoping somebody will sell me I might take some videos and put them up for your own personal encouragement and/or devotion.

Good ol' Pastor John gave us the Word this morning, and his message was convicting at best, horrifying at worst. In other words, awesomely thought-provoking. It was on Luke 14:25-34, and well, let's say I'll let you read that one for yourself (with the disclaimer that I realize this passage provokes a lot of heresy, but I can assure you that was not of this sermon -- I'll put it up once they upload it on the website). But let's reflect for just a moment on verse 27 -- "And anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple." Alright Liz, we've all heard that one, what's the point? Well let me provide you with some framework.

Crucifixion was created as the most painful way ever one was thought to die. After the convicted's body was whipped to the guts (yeah, organs spilling out), he was then to carry his large cross on his back to wherever it was he was to die, which more often than not was up a steep and rocky mountain. He was laid systematically on the cross, nailed to it in each of his wrists and his ankles on top of one another. They propped the cross up in the ground, and waited for him to die -- by suffocation. Here's how it worked: with the position he was in, he could not breathe without first pushing himself forward to gasp for air, but that would cause immense pain to every inch of his body, with his wrists and ankles being nailed to a tree and his body being freshly whipped to shreds. He would then exhale, which would cause him to slump down again so he would need to push up for every breath. Most have the impression that this lasted only a few hours, but depending on how long the convicted drew out this process, it could take anywhere up to a week. He had no nutrients but vinegar and his own blood and sweat, and I doubt it was an easy task to sleep. An ever-increasing puddle of sweat, blood, urine and feces lay beneath his feet -- imagine the smell of all those combined. Oh yeah, and he was naked before a crowd mocking him, throwing rocks at him, screaming words of absolute scorn and ridicule. Until he died.

No wonder everyone thought Christ was a radical lunatic... I can't say I wouldn't.

Jesus did that for us, and all He's asking us to do for Him is to carry the cross, a small portion of that entire dreadful ordeal. We best be thinking we should perhaps give back, just a little.

Following Jesus is definitely not for the faint of heart, to say the least. But it is so worth it.

One Sunday a month my good friend and I head into a Doylestown nursing and rehabilitation home to lead worship for a Bible study a dude from our church leads. It is the residents' only church, so we try to make the best of it, and we take solace in the fact that most of them are hard of hearing, since the piano is reeeaaally out of tune and Brynna is not much of a practicer (understatement -- she literally refuses to come up with a line-up anytime before we get to the nursing home -- nope, not even on the way over -- and even if she randomly chooses a song we happen to have never done together, she'll do one verse and then say "alright, we got it"). We do mostly hymn-type stuff, since they're old and sick and I don't think they want our kind of worship. Amazing Grace, always.

This is the kind of nursing home that doesn't just have old people, but also has people who for whatever reasons are severely disabled and can't live on their own. There is a woman living there called Audrey whom we've all taken a particular liking to (not in the sense that we play favorites -- she's just taken the time to get to know us and is very friendly). She's not terribly old, but it's obvious she's got some medical problems, is in a wheelchair and has extremely slurred speech -- most people cannot understand her, if ever on the rare occasion. But she's super sweet, and she loves the Lord. A lot.

This was taken on the day Brynna and I were baptized.

Today we were told she wasn't coming to church because she wasn't feeling well, and that we weren't allowed to visit her. I'm not gonna lie, that scares me a little. I think it affected my partners in ministry as well.

Sometimes it hurts inside to do ministry to our God. But it is so worth it.

My VBS group last year

VBS is this week -- possibly one of the craziest times of the year both in my life and for my church. Our VBS is not quite like any other -- it pretty much shuts down the church and all the volunteers' lives (a good 80% of the congregation, which totals to over 1,000), in a good way. It is the one week we all come together in the glorification of God for one purpose: to reach His sweet little children in mighty ways. And we always do -- through Him, of course. As much I freakin' adore VBS and even more so children (I've been told my love for them shows in my eyes whenever I talk with a precious one), it's super stressful, and I won't get much sleep this week. More and more each year, it is inevitably absolute chaos due to the large number of people and much smaller number of square feet of space -- both inside and outside, in multiple buildings (that makes it sound like the place is huge -- it's really not; it's in a strip mall, and we have four sections of it). There's also just so much to do and so little time and by nature, I always have false anxiety about not reaching the kids. I just need to surrender it to God -- it's not anything I do. It's all Him. That's how so many kids get saved at these things.

Sometimes giving Jesus the honor due Him has me going insane, in tears because He finally gave me some tough love, and way too stressed for my own good. But it is so worth it.

Can you tell I'm a bit weary?

In exactly two weeks, I will be sleeping in my DR bed. Part of me is extensively excited and jittery for this endeavor to get started, and a smaller yet significant part is kind of dreading it. Last year when I went, I had no idea what to expect, and was, well, a little taken back, mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually. On one hand, I want to remember going into this that it is going to be difficult and I am going to be stretched, but on the other hand, I don't want to expect it to be the exact same thing as last year, because it's simply not the same trip and God is not going to do the exact same things. Mission trips are very flexible times where everyone is stretched, including those we are serving. So I feel a little hesitant to run into Barahona with open arms shouting YAY GOD! because 1) That would make us look even more like americanos locos, and 2) I would trip and fall, flat on my face, straight into the dirty, rotting, rocky mountains.

Sometimes, I'll be honest, I really don't want to serve God. But I know it is so very worth it.

"Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you." ~Matthew 5:12

"However, I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the gospel of God’s grace." ~Acts 20:24

"Abortion -- it is poverty to decide that a child must die so that you may live as you wish."

Even if you were raped. Even if your pro-choice doctor claims you will die if you give birth to this child (which is bull, by the way -- I worked in labor and delivery for nine months doing clerical stuff and I learned enough to know that delivery is a fabulous cure for pre-eclampsia, and putting the child in the NICU gives him/her a much better chance of survival than abortion ever will). Even if you are 15 years old -- meaning you cannot lawfully drop out of high school yet -- and it is physically impossible to parent a child at this time in your life and still maintain your sanity (helloooo, adoption!).

You might take a guess that this quote may have been said by someone like Michelle Duggar, a woman who loves children very much -- so much, in fact, that she has nineteen of her own -- and easily finds a way to keep her entire family afloat with the help of her husband, Jim Bob. Or maybe it's by Sarah Palin, a die-hard conservative pro-lifer who is swimming in cash so that she may live as she wishes. If not one of those two, it must be somebody who said this a hundred years ago, before abortion was such a fundamental component of women's rights, before it was so necessary as it is today, with all the rapists and pregnant teenagers in this country.

Nope. Mother Teresa.

Wait a second, you've got to be kidding. You mean Mother Teresa of Calcutta, the Catholic nun who took the vow of poverty; the woman of God who dedicated her life to serve the "poorest of the poor;" who for more than half of her life wore nothing other than a white, blue-bordered sari and a flimsy pair of sandals? You're talking about Mother Teresa, the missionary in Calcutta who visited families, washed the sores of children, and cared for the sick and dying on the sides of the roads? The one who accepted all awards presented to her not with pride, but "for the glory of God and in the name of the poor"? Yep, that's the one.

I've never met the woman, but I'm gonna take a wild guess and say she knew a thing or two about poverty. She chose to live in the deepest poverty, and took great joy in doing so. In my book, she's the second most selfless person ever to have lived (Jesus being the first), and her deepest desire throughout her years was always, "more of You, less of me." She didn't play around with poverty -- going on short term mission trips here and there yet on them residing in places with far more amenities than the people she was serving had, glad to go home after two weeks because, "it was amazing, but I just can't stand being there that long" -- No. She made her home among the poorest of the poor, pouring out love to those who had none, to those who had no money, no food, no care, no protection. And she was blessed by it.

The average cost of an abortion is $550 dollars. $362.3 million dollars of our tax money in America goes to fund it each year. Yet the mother to the poor called it poverty, and categorized women affording and retrieving an abortion in the same group as her children of the slums.

I think there's definitely something to be said about that, and not just, "Oh, that's a nice quote. Mother Teresa was a really cool lady." The saint certainly had a way with words, and when discussing abortion she had the opportunity to describe the crime with other words such as "evil," "murder," "wrong," or "inhumane." But she chose "poverty." Merriam-Webster's definition of the word includes "scarcity, dearth; debility due to malnutrition; lack of fertility." (Pretty ironic for the last one, huh?) So the question is, what are these women lacking? What is it that the wise nun decided they were malnourished of, infertile of?

Well, maybe -- and this is just a thought -- they have not conceived love. Maybe they are haven't been nourished with a true understanding of the value of life and the value of intimacy, which could be fed to them by -- you guessed it -- love. Maybe, just maybe, they are lacking Jesus. (And by the way, He IS love.)

So right now as I lay in this bed, on my laptop, with the AC and two fans keeping me cool, with my good health and expensive yoga pants, with loads of diet coke downstairs (side distraction: today when I was saying grace before dinner, I literally thanked God for diet coke... my mom laughed at me), as I look back on Mother Teresa of Calcutta's life and words of wisdom, I am humbled by the incredible truth of God's message to us... that it all comes down to love.

"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging symbol. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing." ~1 Corinthians 13:1-3

If I declare and protest life outside every Planned Parenthood in the country, but have not love, I am only another annoying conservative. If I educate young women about sex and reproduction, and if I write powerful pro-life articles, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all my money to pro-life organizations and die for the cause, but have not love, I gain nothing.

Note: I originally wrote this for my pro-life blog, but since it is brand new and is not yet completely set up, I also posted it here so it may get more exposure.

I am a kinesthetic crier.

I don't  have much to write about this one, but I feel a need to share it. It is so very beautiful, and so true, and I just love it. I've thought about skating to Gravity before, but I could never capture anything like this.

Congrats Plumstead Christian Class of 2011 ♥

This class, I must say, is amazing and has really blessed my heart. They are truly bonded together in unity as brothers and sisters in Christ and I see His love pour out of them in everything they do. I will never forget the way Maria treated me when I first got to Plumstead - as though I was her long lost friend and had come simply to pass time with her. I will never forget the facebook message from Mary I received while in the hospital, the hug, card, and song mix she gifted me with on my day back, and all the words of encouragement and love she shared with me. I will never forget Jon's message in chapel a few weeks ago - by far the best sermon I have ever heard, and it came not from an experienced reverend or a missionary to a third world country, but from a high school senior. I will never forget the senior skit done to Switchfoot's "Dare You to Move" at the PCS talent show - all I remember thinking is, Satan's been defeated. He's been DEFEATED! When I look at this small yet mighty group of students, my heart is filled with awe towards our Lord because of the profound and unique ways He is working in each of these faithful servants. Some of these students I have done mission trips, outreaches, and worship with, and some I hardly know. But one thing I do know is that each of them share one purpose: to glorify God in everything they do. And that really makes me smile. :)

I have a dream.

In the early 1950's, America was living in a period of deep racial injustice. Integration and equal rights for blacks was unheard of across the nation. Children were brought up to believe that citizens of color were far lesser beings than whites, and most did not question it. Since life in this part of the world had been this way since the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, the severe prejudice was not seen as cruel or unusual to the majority of the population. It was the norm of that day, and no one saw a need to do anything about it.

And then Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. came along, and he stirred things up a bit. He, along with Rosa Parks and other colored citizens of Montgomery, Alabama, organized and led the Montgomery Improvement Association and the Montgomery Bus Boycott. He also joined with Charles K. Steele and Fred L. Shuttlesworth in establishing the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, which sought to demolish racial injustice with nonviolence and civil disobedience. As he continually pushed for integration in public schools, repeatedly failed, and was put in jail during anti-segregation protests, he never gave up, refusing to cease his fight for the important cause of civil rights, no matter how hopeless it seemed. Hate crimes against the Negros worsened and increased in frequency, so Dr. King strengthened his political acts and protests that much more.

On August 28, 1963, 200,000 people gathered at the Lincoln Memorial to hear King's famous and forever known "I Have a Dream" speech. The speech sparked both great exultation and disapproving fracas alike towards the man. Five years later, our nation's leader of the civil rights movement was assassinated by James Earl Ray, carrying the hope of freedom among all peoples right along with him to eternal glory.

I love Martin Luther King Jr. very much, and I'm looking forward to meeting him in heaven. He was a man of amazing faith, integrity, perseverance, and courage. I can only imagine what my life would be like today without him, even as a white girl. I would not be permitted to even speak to the girl who is now my best friend, because she is black. My heart would be filled with hatred towards my brothers and sisters of color because I would have been raised to believe that they are worthless. I cannot imagine my mother, a beautiful Christian woman who truly treats each of God's creatures as just that and is strongly against prejudice of any kind, instilling that belief into my mind. But if it were not for my good pal Martin, this would not be my mother's fault or even my grandmother's, but rather the fault of those who began the passing down of that ugly and cruel lie many years ago.

Today I can say without a doubt that Dr. King is happy. Not only is he in the presence of the Lord, but he also has the blessed opportunity to see all of his hard work pay off here on earth. Racism definitely still exists, but when looking back on his renowned speech it is easily agreeable that many of his dreams have been fulfilled or nearly fulfilled. Racial injustice was a battle that many likely thought would never be won, but today I know I live in a country where the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners are able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood, people, for the most part, are not judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character, and little black boys and black girls are able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

We are living in different times now. Racial injustice is not near as big a problem as it was in the 50's and 60's, but another form of injustice has been on the rise for the past 38 years. Whether we are willing to admit it or not, a vicious genocide is sweeping our nation, and it is called abortion. In 2008 alone, 1.21 million homicides of unborn children were committed in America - that's 3,315 a day, 276 an hour (going on a 12-hour shift), 4 a minute (each time my synchro team skates our program once through, 10 American children have their life stolen) - and not one murderer has been charged or convicted. Planned Parenthood, America's largest abortion chain aka slaughterhouse, currently receives $362.3 million dollars of our tax money each year. There is abundant evidence both scientifically and biblically that a baby is a human being from the moment of conception. But still this continues, rarely mentioned among the mainstream population, stirring heated controversy as to whether or not this crime can be considered health care.

And I woke up this morning worried about my finals.

I recall Dr. King's legacy and am deeply inspired by his boldness, determination, and martyrdom. I learn in history class about the way blacks were treated at this time and I am appalled to hear that millions of human beings were accepting of this discrimination, and would even fight for it. Then I realize that the same thing is going on right now. And I am twice as appalled when I see videos like this one. I think the battle this world is constantly waging is pretty obvious. "And no wonder, for Satan himself masquerades himself as an angel of light (2 Cor. 11:14)." In Dr. King's time, that truth manifested itself as discrimination masquerading itself as a "separate but equal" policy. Now, abortion is masquerading itself as health care, a woman's right to choose what she does with "her" body (Since when have a mother and her child shared the same body?).

I'll touch on the subject of women's rights: I am a woman, and darn proud of it. I believe that I am called to clothe myself with strength and dignity for the very reason that I am a woman. (My favorite woman alive is Gianna Jessen, a strong and dignified activist for women's rights and life.) As a young Christian woman who has never had sex or an unintended pregnancy but understands in full what it's like to be a woman, what it's like to have to make huge sacrifices to give birth to a child that may be an inconvenience at the time, especially how hard it is to do so when you were raped, this is not your fault and this is your rapist's child, and what it's like to live in the world today, who loves being a woman and thinks women are valuable and precious and deserve equal rights just as everyone else but is not a feminist, who is considered to be quite motherly even as a teenager and believes motherhood is the most glorious thing a woman can do, I believe with all my heart that abortion has nothing to do with women's rights. In fact, it is quite the opposite.

So I want to be the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. of the pro-life movement. I want to fight by nonviolence until I die for it, all the while hoping and dreaming of a day when this kind of injustice no longer exists, when the next generation learns about this time in history and is appalled that it ever occured.

As the Reverend said, "Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends. And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: 'We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.'"

I have a dream that one day on the sunny shores of Florida, a mother who battled uncertainty and turmoil when she was pregnant with her rapist's child will be able to sit down with her beautiful son and truly love him, with no regrets of her decision to keep him, making sure he knows that it is not his fault he is the product of a rapist and should not have to suffer the consequences.

I have a dream that one day even the state of California, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, with the highest rate of prenatal murders nationwide, will be transformed into an oasis of life and love.

I have a dream that my future children will one day live in a nation where abortion is unheard of, where people understand the value of intimacy and human life as God created it to be.

I have a dream today!

"I have a dream today that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; 'and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.'"

So this is what Love is like.

This is me, sitting on the front steps of my friend's church after the lovely service, enjoying the peacefulness of simply sitting with God, wearing two rings (one of them being a purity ring, the other an "engagement" ring) to symbolize my eternal marriage with the Lord.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Day in the life of a Pulse youth group-er.

Sorry for my annoying voice. I really should not talk so much when I am that amused.

"Okay, God, so when I fall, You'll pick me up, right?"

About 25 years ago, give or take, a girl called Linda lived with her daddy, whom she dearly loved. Her daddy was a born-again Christian, and for years he had been praying for her daughter's salvation, but her heart was cold. I'm not clear on all the exact details, but one day, when Linda was 15, her daddy, by the strength of God, led her to the Lord and she was saved.

After her restoration, Linda continued her relationship with God all throughout high school and college. She married a lovely man by the name of Michael and together they adopted a beautiful little girl from China whom they called Emma Grace. So Linda, Michael, and Emma lived together, in Doylestown, Pennsylvania. The daughter went to a Christian school, and the married couple led the outreach ministry at their church.

Linda was also a youth small group leader, and counseled many teenage girls in their relationships with Christ. She was particularly close to a girl in the youth group whom she called Lizard. Liz, as most others called her, loved her Jesus very much but struggled a lot in her relationship with Him for various reasons. Linda prayed over her after she got a concussion, approached her and hugged her very tightly at church out of the blue because she just knew something was wrong, and called her and made her a card when she was in the hospital. Linda was a second mom to Liz, and they loved each other very much.

Then there came a time when Linda's daddy grew very old, and with that came sickness. For two long years his body waged war between life and death, but Linda stuck with him through it all. She traveled back and forth each weekend from her home to his place of residence (sometimes a hospital, sometimes his house) in Brooklyn. She cried a lot, and she prayed. His health slowly deteriorated, to the point where he could no longer walk, talk, or eat by himself. Linda's heart broke at the sight of her daddy's wearing down, and she clung to her God during all this time. Her church family prayed for her, but she didn't know what to do. Her daddy, the one who she had always looked to as a godly role model, was slowly dying, and she didn't know what to think.

One day as Linda was spending time with her family, she received a call from her mommy telling her that her daddy was taking a turn for the worse. She once again drove up to Brooklyn, sat by her father's bedside and took care of him for many days, and watched him die. She was amazed at the "dying process" the Lord was bringing him through, which she had never seen occur before. He did not speak, but simply lay in his bed, breathing slow and peaceful breaths. She stayed up all hours of the night to give him his medication. At one of these times, she was in the other room preparing his meds, and heard him mumbling. She quickly ran to his side to hear what he had to say, wondering how in the world he was speaking which she thought he could no longer do. Her jaw dropped as she realized Who his conversation was with.

"Okay, God, so when I fall, You'll pick me up, right?
...alright Jesus, so I know I'm gonna fall. But You'll pick me right up!
Thank You, Lord. Thank You so much."

Linda knew her daddy's time to go home was coming soon. The next day, she sat next to him and watched his breaths, until finally she witnessed his last. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she gazed at his entrance into the presence of the Lord. She felt peace.

After she had some time to grieve and to take it all in after the services, she attended youth group. The youth pastor informed the group of her loss and asked her to speak about this time in her life. She made her way up to the front of the room meekly with awe and humility in her eyes. She said, "I just want to tell you guys this, because I want you to see how God was faithful through all of this. It's not a sad story - we mourn for his loss on earth, but our rejoicing for eternity is so much greater." One by one, she revealed the events of the past few years.  Not a tear was shed, but only shouts of joy and thankfulness to her Lord. Her Lizard was one of many in the crowd listening, and she was touched. Everything she was going through, everything she was stressed over and all the drama of the day, it was all put into God's light and it all fell into place. She prayed, "Jesus I just want You. You are so good."