Nana

The first thing you should know about my Nana is that she isn't my real Nana.

My name is Kevin. I am 12 years old. I have one sister who is 6 years old. Her name is Melissa. We live in Point’s Hollow, Ohio with my mom, my dad, and now my Nana.

The second thing you should know about my Nana is that she has great endurance.

Our town is 20 miles from Springfield. My dad is a farmer and my mom runs the corner store. I am in the 5^th grade. I like football, fishing, and anything my friends are doing. I still remember the day my Nana showed up. It was almost lunchtime and I was sitting by the road counting the clouds that passed by my house. Summers in Point’s Hollow can be boring.

The third thing you should know about my Nana is that she doesn’t remember much.

The day Nana showed up was in the summer. It’s the wintertime now. I was sitting there, counting clouds, like I told you when I saw her on her bike. She’s an old lady and she rides normal speed for an old lady, which is pretty slow. She rode her bike past me and she had a look on her face like she wasn’t seeing anything that she was looking at. Nana went three pedals past me, and then stopped. She stood there for a long time looking around, so I ran up to her. I said, “Hi. Do you need some help?” She said, “Hi Zachary, I’m just going to the market.” I didn’t know what to say because there isn’t a market near my house, and my name is Kevin, not Zachary. I said, “Are you lost?” She said, “Lost? Good heavens, no! I’ve lived here my whole life! I’m not lost, I’m just looking for Mittens. Have you seen her?”

The fourth thing you should know about my Nana is that she’s a really good cook.

I ran and got my mom. My mom brought Nana into our house and got her a glass of iced tea. Old people love iced tea. Nana usually loves it but sometimes she hates it. That day she loved it. My mom asked her a bunch of questions, like “what’s your name?” “where do you live?” “what’s your family’s name?” Nana didn’t know the answer to most of the questions. When my dad got back from the fields we took Nana into Springfield. We went to the police station, but they said there wasn’t any missing person reports. We went to the hospital, the old people’s home, and even to the rotary club. But, no one was missing a little old lady. So, we brought Nana back home with us. Later that night she told my mom that she wanted to read a story to me and my sister. So, we climbed up into bed with Nana and she read us a story. Even though I’m 12, and too old for stories, I loved it. She’s the best reader ever.

The fifth thing you should know about my Nana is that she always carries butterscotch candy in her pockets.

My mom and dad traveled all around trying to find Nana’s family, but they couldn’t find her missing from anywhere. They even went all the way to Columbus, but no one was looking for Nana. I think that Nana probably got on her bike and rode all the way from St. Louis. Like I told you, she has really good endurance. The second day she was at our house we went for a walk. Nana walked so fast that we could barely keep up with her. My mom turned around and took Melissa home after a while, but Nana and I walked for a really long time. It was a lot of fun. She told me a bunch of stories about her husband and children. She kept changing the names, so I don’t know what was actually true, but I think her husband is dead and her kids are "rabble-rousers." Sometimes Nana lets me talk and talk for hours. My mom always says that my imagination belongs in the circus, and even though Nana doesn’t remember any of the stories I tell her, I’m pretty sure she loves hearing them.

The sixth thing you should know about my Nana is that she is missing a finger on her left hand and has fake teeth.

My dad said, “She isn’t a stray animal, we can’t “keep her!”” I think we spent almost a month looking for her family, but, in the end, we never could find them. I cried and cried when dad said that we were going to take her to the police station and let them deal with her. But mom said something about “leaving him for Billy Forrest” and he said that Nana could stay. Besides, even though Nana is really nice, I think my dad is a little afraid of her. I don’t know why. Anyways, I think that was the happiest day of my life. Nana sometimes does strange things like wears her clothes inside out. One time we woke up and she wasn’t in her room. We looked and looked and finally found her walking towards town. She sometimes scolds mom like mom is her own daughter. Sometimes she gets angry and says that she doesn’t know where she is. But, that’s only sometimes. Most of the time I can’t wait to get home from school to see her. Like yesterday, after I got home from school, we sat on the back porch and snapped peas for dinner. She likes to hear about my day at school, and she likes to tell me about all of her sisters and about when they were growing up.

The seventh thing you should know about my Nana is that she is my best friend.

My favorite part of the day is after Nana is done reading to us she looks at me and says, “Oh, my sweet little Zachary, good night!”  Except, a couple of days ago, she said, “Oh, my sweet little Kevin, good night!” I looked at her, really surprised, and she just winked at me. She doesn’t usually remember my name so that made me super happy. When Nana first started living with us mom said that Nana had “old-timer’s” disease. That’s why she doesn’t remember things too good. Mom also said that Nana would probably get worse. Nana hasn’t been eating. Mom said that Mrs. Bloom’s mother, who had old-timers too, stopped eating before she died. That made me really sad. Even though Nana isn’t my real Nana, and even though she’s only been living with us since the summer, I can’t really remember her not being around. So, I try my best to help her eat. Sometimes she’ll eat, and sometimes she won’t let me get the spoon close to her mouth. So, I can tell that she’s probably getting ready to die. Mom said that sometimes old people are just ready to die. That makes me really sad, but I just want Nana to be happy. The other reason I think Nana is getting ready to die is because she’s been telling stories about her husband and it sounds like she mostly liked him. Back before, when she first came, her stories weren’t as nice about him. So I think Nana knows she’s about to go see him up in heaven, and maybe she’s practicing liking him again. 

I don’t know what makes someone family, but, the last thing you should know about my Nana is that she is my real Nana.

Quiet Time

I’ve been quiet on here for quite some time. That’s because I have had a lot of thoughts floating through, in and out of, my head. Sometimes I feel like a little boy, lying on his back, watching the sky, and watching the kites as they fly up and down and around. Occasionally one of those kites will swoop low enough that the boy can read the lettering on its side. That lettering? Those are my thoughts most of the time.

I used to run around chasing and trying to catch the kites. But that was too much work and produced hazy end results. This way, letting the thoughts coalesce, is much more restful – still hazy – but more restful.

Two quotes have come together, from two very different sources, to hopefully produce one coherent thought.

“Many mornings I wake up an utter unbeliever – worse than any atheist” – Christian Wiman

“Every morning I must say again to myself, Today I start.” – St. Anthony of the Desert

Do you feel this way too?

I don’t know. Maybe it’s just that I’m too busy in the mornings. Or maybe I’m not enough of a morning person.

Either way, it seems like, if I let me, my self likes to get to lunch time-ish before I remember to start properly.

And by then of course I have to start with penitence for my reticence and when I’m done with that I usually forget why I wanted to start anyways…

The point is. I’ve been much better about starting the day with what we used to call, “quiet time.” That idea of starting fresh every day, not because I should, but because I need.

Do you feel this way too?

Delight

The good news is that God has such low standards

And reaches out to those of us who oftentimes are unlovable

And offers us a chance to come back inside out of our storm

Of drama and toxic thoughts

Love reaches out and reaches out and reaches out

It is staggering that it is always giving another chance

Another day

Over and over and over

Or maybe, it isn’t low standards – but high delight

                                   By delight I mean                    Mother 

looking over the crib at her sleeping baby

                                Daddy                 bouncing baby on his knee

Laughing and laughing and laughing

Maybe God’s delight in us is just so much

So big so high

That the dirt smudge on our cheek doesn’t bother him.

And Remember

delight true delight is best received when it is reciprocated

Given back to the giver

Mutual Joy in the Other

An update!

The easiest way to say this is to say that things are good. Things are great. Stupendous, really.

I’ve moved from my apartment across the street from Cornerstone, and from now until the 20^th of October, I’ll move several times until I settle into my friend Ruth’s house for the remainder of my time.

Besides the logistics involved in moving around for the next month, I feel confident in saying that I am settled in and comfortably living in Thailand.

In regards to actual counseling, I haven’t started seeing any clients yet. However, I have had the opportunity to observe several other clinicians during some of their sessions and that has been a really good learning experience.

I’m back to running somewhat seriously. I have a couple marathons planned for later on this year and then in February I will race a 100k. Here's a view from a Buddhist temple just outside of town. 

From a practicalities standpoint there is probably quite a bit more I could tell you. But, I think this is a good place to leave those sorts of details.

By far, without even thinking about it, the best experience thus far has been the staff retreat that I just returned from. Wednesday afternoon we piled into cars, drove about 25 minutes to a little hotel/retreat center, and proceeded to spend the next 48 hours doing retreaty things.

Here’s what I can tell you. These are great people, doing great things, with each other. And, for some reason, they let me be a part.

And I feel like I fit – like its where I should be – where I want to be. It also feels too good to be true. But in the real way.

“Wherever you have dreamed of going, I have camped there, and left firewood for when you arrive.”

-Hafiz

That’s how it feels here. It feels like dropping the backpack at the end of a long day of hiking, looking around the area you’ve found to camp, and finding a makeshift fire ring with a pile of dry firewood ready for the evening. Stupendous, really.

So, thanks for being a part of my journey!

P.S. Some humor to highlight how beautiful Thailand is!

10 Days in.

Friends!

I'm sitting here on an early Sunday morning, slowly getting ready for church, checking emails, and feeling really grateful to be here - in this apartment, across the street from Cornerstone, in Chiang Mai, in Thailand - you get the point.

I have been super busy getting settled in and so haven't sat down to write the last several days. So, instead, I made a little video. Talking isn't my strong suit, so bear with me. : )

So, anyways. Things are great!

Contact: One of the incredible things about living in 2017 is that even though I am halfway around the world we can still communicate easily! 

- Email - david.emch@gmail.com

- Facebook - If you have messenger that's an easy way to communicate

- iMessage - my phone number is +66 93-125-9293

-Whatsapp - Whatsapp is a great texting app. If you have it or want to download it, you can find me with my phone number.

I will leave you with a couple prayer requests.

   - My Mom and Sister's family live down in Florida. Will you pray with me for their safety?

   - I would appreciate your continued prayers for my getting settled in.

Thanks! Talk to you soon. 

The Greater We

In a couple of days, I am finally, after what has seemed like an extremely long wait, getting on an airplane. I’ll be flying west for twenty-four hours to arrive in the Far East.

I’ll wave goodbye to my Mom, who is taking me to the airport, and getting onto an airplane. All by myself. This is a journey, an adventure, an opportunity, an experience, that I will be taking all on my own.

And yet, I am deeply struck by the fact that none of this would have been possible without a myriad – literally a huge group – of people. If you’re reading this, you’re probably one of those people.

If I told you all of the stories about all of the people who have lent me a hand to get me on that airplane, it would take a book. If I told you all of the stories about all of the little things that got worked out for me to be getting on that airplane, it would take another book.

There is a Bible passage that says this way better than I could.

1 Cor. 12:13-28  - Your body has many parts—limbs, organs, cells—but no matter how many parts you can name, you’re still one body. It’s exactly the same with Christ. By means of his one Spirit, we all said good-bye to our partial and piecemeal lives. We each used to independently call our own shots, but then we entered into a large and integrated life in which he has the final say in everything. (This is what we proclaimed in word and action when we were baptized.) Each of us is now a part of his resurrection body, refreshed and sustained at one fountain—his Spirit—where we all come to drink. The old labels we once used to identify ourselves—labels like Jew or Greek, slave or free—are no longer useful. We need something larger, more comprehensive.

 I want you to think about how all this makes you more significant, not less. A body isn’t just a single part blown up into something huge. It’s all the different-but-similar parts arranged and functioning together. If Foot said, “I’m not elegant like Hand, embellished with rings; I guess I don’t belong to this body,” would that make it so? If Ear said, “I’m not beautiful like Eye, limpid and expressive; I don’t deserve a place on the head,” would you want to remove it from the body? If the body was all eye, how could it hear? If all ear, how could it smell? As it is, we see that God has carefully placed each part of the body right where he wanted it.

 But I also want you to think about how this keeps your significance from getting blown up into self-importance. For no matter how significant you are, it is only because of what you are a part of. An enormous eye or a gigantic hand wouldn’t be a body, but a monster. What we have is one body with many parts, each its proper size and in its proper place. No part is important on its own. Can you imagine Eye telling Hand, “Get lost; I don’t need you”? Or, Head telling Foot, “You’re fired; your job has been phased out”? As a matter of fact, in practice it works the other way—the “lower” the part, the more basic, and therefore necessary. You can live without an eye, for instance, but not without a stomach. When it’s a part of your own body you are concerned with, it makes no difference whether the part is visible or clothed, higher or lower. You give it dignity and honor just as it is, without comparisons. If anything, you have more concern for the lower parts than the higher. If you had to choose, wouldn’t you prefer good digestion to full-bodied hair?

 The way God designed our bodies is a model for understanding our lives together as a church: every part dependent on every other part, the parts we mention and the parts we don’t, the parts we see and the parts we don’t. If one part hurts, every other part is involved in the hurt, and in the healing. If one part flourishes, every other part enters into the exuberance.

 You are Christ’s body—that’s who you are! You must never forget this. Only as you accept your part of that body does your “part” mean anything.

So. In a couple days I get on that plane all alone. But, as just one small part of the greater WE!

Thank you all for your love and support up to this point! Next post from Thailand!

Arthritic Shoulders

“If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.” Isaac Newton

I’ve always loved this quote. It pays tributes to those who have come before – something that has always been really important to me. But it also backhandedly alludes to the fact that I can see really really far. That’s important to me too.

I was thinking about this quote the other day and something, a popcorn kernel of discontentment, stuck between my mental teeth. After having chewed it over for a while I think I know what it is.

It makes everything seem too neat and clean. It makes it sound like everything, all of my well laid plans, have worked out just fine.

Let me tell you something – if I happened to find myself standing on some shoulders it wasn’t because I planned on it. Just the opposite. Most of the time I just sort of wander into good situations.

Can we just all admit that this is the truth for most of us?

I’m tired of trying to make you think I’m something I’m not. I’m really bad at some things. I’m not good at a lot of other things. I’m pretty good at other things (sleeping is my #1 skill). I’m not beating myself up. I’m just tired of trying to hide who I really am behind a mask of competence.

What if Christianity’s culture changed enough that we could all walk around with our masks of near-perfection off?

Here’s another thought – a thought that I really love.

If we were all able to allow our real selves to be visible we could all just rest in our imperfections and rest in God’s love/grace.

Beautiful.

I consider myself one of the luckiest people in the world. I have had so many people come beside me in my life. I can’t even begin to count.

If I can see anything in life I can honestly say that it’s not because of my wisdom or insight, it’s because I have had the incredible privilege to stand on a lot of shoulders.

Those shoulders that I’ve stood on? They’ve been arthritic. Knotted, broken, weak, and in pain. And to me – I wouldn’t have it any other way. Because those shoulders, shoulders riddled with arthritis, are so much broader and so much kinder than any other type of shoulders.

That seems a lot better to me. Admittedly it sounds better to me because if anyone ever was to stand on my shoulders I know that they would be standing on shoulders plagued with arthritis from day 1.

30 days. Yeah. I'm counting.

30 days until I leave for Thailand. I have so many thoughts going through my head and feelings pounding through my heart.

It was early 2014 and I found myself in Dimapur, India, sitting on the porch of a new missionary acquaintance. We were talking about missions, life, and everything else. My life had kinda stalled. I was in the middle of my master’s program trying to decide if the piece of paper and the financial burden associated with it was really worth it. It was that conversation that convinced me to finish this degree.

Since 2008 I have been working in the technology field. What a blessing that has been. Inside of that blessing though has always been a seed (sometimes a lot more than a seed!) of discontentment. Computers have never been a passion. But, I did my best to work faithfully and diligently in what God had provided. Moving to Thailand signifies what is hopefully the laying down of the career in technology, and a moving towards a career in counseling. A career – a job – that I believe God has gifted me for.

More so, moving to Thailand is giving me the incredible opportunity to explore the option of being a counselor to missionaries. I’ve been counseling now, during my practicum (mini internship), for 11 whole weeks. Not very long, but long enough to know that I find a deep fulfillment in this work. As I talked about in an earlier blog, I believe that God has given me a heart to work with missionaries. Going to Thailand will give me the experience, over the 9 months, to see if counseling missionaries is where I want to take my practice.

As I look back over the last year I am blown away with all of the ways that doors have been opened. I called or emailed over 35 missions organizations and overseas counseling centers with the question, “Do you all take counseling interns?” I didn’t hear back from a lot of those places. I got “No” from the rest. Except for SIM. SIM said, “maybe.” And so I applied. 4 months later, SIM accepted me as a short-term missionary. And then, they started to help me look for a counseling center where I could intern. Cornerstone, in Thailand, said “let’s give it a shot.” And so, I applied. 4 months later I was accepted. For brevity’s sake, I’m leaving out a lot of really neat things and stories of doors being opened. Either way, the journey, up to this point, has been incredible. God is faithful.

And to finish. So many of you have blown me away with your generosity. You’ve been generous with your encouragement of me pursuing this dream. You’ve been generous in your prayers. And you’ve been generous financially. It’s been incredible to see. So, thank you so much! I do still need to raise a bit more money, so if you are interested you can donate here: https://www.simusa.org/give/ But, really. All of you who have already given, thank you.

I’m feeling really humbled, full of anticipation, and most of all grateful for all of this. 

Whittling

A long time ago I used to play music. In fact, sometimes I even wrote my own. As I’ve been going through my stuff, preparing for time out of the country, I found a couple copies of my CD. Good times – decent music.

Most people who have heard the CD all have the same favorite song. But my favorite song is different than theirs. And my favorite song from that CD isn’t even the whole song. Rather, it is the bridge.

“Whittle my life down, to the shape of a crown, that I can lay down at your feet.”

That line, that melody, has stayed with me over all of these years.

There is this idea that all of the good things that we do in our lives will be turned into crowns. Or maybe our life is a crown and every good deed is a jewel or ornament added to that crown. And then, when we finally come face to face with Jesus, we take that crown off of our head and lay it at his feet.

 

I love that idea.

Here is my life – a block of wood. And over the years I take, or whittle, a little piece here and a little piece there. And now, 35 years later, that block of wood is starting to resemble something.

But, it’s not quite right.

I get all these ideas for how I want my life to look. And so I start trying to whittle my life to look that way. Then I get distracted. And I change my focus, and so I start on a new design.

Now that block of wood is starting to look like an indecisive mess.

I’m not a great wood-worker.

But, I know someone who is. Jesus – take the knife from my hand please.

And if I let him have my life – that block of wood – he starts to form it into a plain looking crown.

I don’t think he’s making me a crown because he wants another crown thrown at his feet. I think he might be trying to remind me of who I am…

And so I give my chunk of wood to the carpenter. I don’t want to have all my own ideas for how my life should look.

And you know what? I’m starting to think that if my life ends up looking like a piece of wood shaped like a crown – that will be just fine with me.

Big News!

One of the things that I love about stories is that each story’s beginning isn’t a true beginning. Likewise, most story’s endings aren’t really endings. For example, I’m going to tell you a little bit of my story, but my story, if I’m being thorough, doesn’t start with me. I would have to tell you about my Mom’s and Dad’s lives and maybe even their parents lives. Because my story didn’t start with me. Who I am, is, in a large part, because of how I was raised and how my parents were raised.

And we aren’t even talking about geography or cultural events that shaped me. You get the point. Stories, no matter how detailed, leave a lot to the imagination.

And hopefully my story doesn’t end with me. Hopefully my story trickles down into a lot of other people’s stories.

So, with that introduction out of the way – that flimsy excuse for a story that starts in the middle and ends in the middle – would you mind if I tell you some news by way of a story?

The most honest place to start is by telling you that I grew up as the son of a pastor. I was the nephew of pastors and missionaries. Basically, in my family, going into ministry was normal and for me at least, it seemed expected.

So, in high school, when I started doing leadership stuff, when I took an internship at my church after high school, and when I became a youth pastor for a couple of years, it wasn’t a huge surprise. I was almost continuing on in the family business.

I realized shortly after taking the job at the church that being a youth pastor, and probably being a pastor in general, wasn’t for me. I did however really enjoy the inherent counseling that is part of being a pastor. And so, after several long years of detours, I went back to school. I finished my undergrad in psychology. And then I jumped right into the master’s program in counseling.  I started my master’s in 2012. Now, as we are closing in on mid-2017, the end of school is in sight.

Even though it might seem like I love being in school – seeing how long it’s taken me to complete a three-year master’s degree – I am thrilled to be wrapping it up.

 Here is something that life has taught me both through firsthand and through secondhand experience: life is tough. I have had my share of setbacks and trials. And for those around me, my friends and family, life has thrown a lot of curveballs at them too.

So, I go into counseling with my eyes wide open. I know that life is tough. I know that we are all broken in some way.

That’s where I want to be. Right in the middle of that brokenness.


Throughout my life I have had the privilege of knowing a lot of people in ministry. A lot of these people, like my dad, some friends, and mentors, have been pastors. A lot of these people, like my Uncles and Aunts, and friends, have been missionaries. And a lot of these people have been people who work in “regular” 9-5 jobs, but give of their time to lead Bible studies and youth groups, or volunteer with homeless people.

And here is something else I can tell you: ministry has its own special way of being tough. Really tough.

Everywhere I look I see people who have been chewed up and spit out by being in ministry. I don’t totally know why that is. But, it’s the truth.

Let’s jump back into story.

When I was growing up my family would read books together. I don’t know the final count, but I know that at one count we had read over 100 books together. Sometimes, sitting at the dinner table, listening to my dad read whatever book we were plodding through was torture. I was off in my own world, thinking about anything but the book.

But sometimes I would be completely intrigued by what we were reading. For certain reasons, the books that we read about Jim Elliot always kept my attention. I also specifically remembered a book called, “Bruchko.” That book told the story of a man who was a missionary and went through a ton of hardships to tell a savage tribe in Colombia about Jesus.

From an early age I connected with the stories of missionaries. People, like my aunts and uncles, who gave up their American lives to serve people in other countries. And I wanted to be like them.

And so I’ve gotten out of the country at any chance I’ve had.

Fast forward to the summer of 2014. I was Mexico for a couple of months and talking to a girl that I had met online. For all of the usual reasons (and some unusual ones as well) we stopped talking. But, in the time that we spent together, we talked about one of the dreams for her life.

She wanted to move to the English countryside, buy a house, and use it as a retreat center for missionaries. Missionaries could come and stay for a couple of weeks to recharge their batteries, and then return to wherever they were working.

It was a neat idea. One I liked. But, like I said, we stopped talking and I forgot about her idea for a while.


Jump forward another summer. A missionary couple I know were close to burning out. They came back to the states and went to a retreat center for missionaries. They left the retreat center, three weeks later, ready to reengage.

I have more stories like this. Stories of missionaries having a difficult time while overseas. I have too many stories like this, and, my guess is, you could add one or two of your own.

Then I returned to Mexico last year. A lot of stuff happened while I was there. Too much to tell in this format. While a bit grotesque, I can’t help but think of the term, “trail of dead.” My heart broke for the difficulties of the people who I worked beside while in Mexico.

I hope I’ve painted the picture well enough.

When I returned to the states it was time to finally take the last steps to complete school. I found a neat counseling center in Columbus to complete my practicum. The only remaining piece was to also find a place to complete my internship. And I started thinking outside of the box.

I should back up a little bit.

I love kids. I love hanging out with them and getting down on their level. When I was working through school I told people, and I actually thought, that I would use my counseling degree to work with children. I imagined working with kids in another country. Kids in orphanages or kids in tough spots. And I hope in some manner that I will still be the case.

However, while in Mexico, God replaced my heart for children with a burning burden to work with missionaries. I saw the pain. I saw the need. I saw how God had put me, all throughout my life, in contact with people in ministry. And, I knew I had to at least try.

So, while I was in California I started calling and I started emailing. I googled and then I contacted. I think I either called or emailed 35 different missions organizations.

After all was said and done, I received one, “maybe.” I applied and four months later that “maybe” became a “Yes” and a “let’s see if we can find you a place to counsel.”

Again, one possibility came through. One chance for this longshot idea to become a reality. And that longshot became a reality.

So, that was a longwinded way of telling you this really big news: In August I’ll be moving to Chiang Mai, Thailand, as a short-term missionary with SIM, to work at Cornerstone Counseling Foundation!


SIM is the missions organization that said “yes” to me. They have missionaries all over the world – including my very own Aunt and Uncle!

Cornerstone is a counseling center primarily designed to work with missionaries in Southeast Asia. Missionaries come from all over the region for a week or longer to receive a time of respite, retreat, and counseling.

While there, I will be counseling missionaries who are having a hard time and need a little help. I’ll be living in Thailand for eight months and I’ll be working with, and underneath, about ten other counselors who are there for the exact same reason.

I am so excited I could burst! This is a direction that I have been moving towards for quite a long time, and it feels really great to know that things are starting to come together.

I wanted to take the time to tell you all of those stories to try and answer the question “WHY?”

And now, if you’ll read for just a little while longer, I want to try and answer the “HOW?”

I will be going to Thailand as a missionary. Even though it is a part of my schooling, I will be there as a missionary as well as a student.

I will be paying for a portion of the time in Thailand out of my own pocket, but I won’t be able to do it by myself. I will be spending these next several months, until I leave for Thailand, fundraising so that I can work beside these missionaries.

If you read this far (a true feat!), would you consider supporting me in this time?

I need your help, your support, on two fronts.

Financially. I have to raise a bit of money to do this internship. And as the saying goes, “no gift is too small…” If what I am going to Thailand to do, to work alongside missionaries, is compelling to you, would you consider supporting me financially? Or, if you aren’t completely sold on what I am going to be doing, but you believe in my heart, would you consider supporting me in this fashion?

Prayer. I know how money works, and I know that sometimes giving money isn’t always an option. But, I want to be very diligent in building up a group of friends and family who will support the work I am doing in prayer. Would you consider praying for me while I am Thailand? I will try to send out weekly prayer/update emails that you could receive.

So, that’s it. I sort of feel like all of my experiences have been leading up to these coming months and I’m excited to see what God is going to do!

If you are interested, I would love to tell you more – to fill in some of those blanks that storytelling doesn’t always answer. If you are local, I’d love to have dinner and tell you more. If you aren’t local, I’d love to make a phone call or skype with you.

I’ll finish this longest blog post in history with a couple of links.

http://www.simusa.org/ - This is the missions organization that I am going through
http://ccfthailand.org/ - This is the counseling center that I’ll be working at in Thailand
https://www.simusa.org/get-involved/give/ - This is the website where you can support me financially.

Thanks for reading!

The One Same Thing

This week is the culmination of Lent. Tonight we “celebrate” together at the Maundy Thursday service.

A question: During this Lenten season, how have you changed?

The Inward/Outward journey (or the Outward/Inward journey for all you extroverts) has been difficult for me. My brain, like most brains, likes to categorize. Things internal remain internal and things external remain external.

Like the chemical attack in Syria. My tendency is to blame politicians and thus keep things external. To internalize those attacks – to dwell on and to feel, the impact of how those attacks might make our brothers and sisters lose hope – that seems like too much for me. Instead, I want to raise my fist at corrupt government. But this attack, for some reason, this attack was different. I let if fill up my heart instead of just my twitter feed. And that changed me.

Or like the fasting I’ve done this Lenten season. Shhh… Don’t brag; don’t tell people you’ve fasted. Or, besides losing those two pounds, it’s all for naught. But this “addition through subtraction,” this physical denial for hoped spiritual abundance, was hard work. And that changed me.

And I hope that change for me has occurred by both the Inward and the Outward moving a little bit closer together.

This week, as we prepare our hearts and build each other up, as we mourn, and as we celebrate – I hope that all of these things become the one same thing.

Spirituality through Subtraction

We’re over halfway through Lent. And to be honest, I’m ready for it to be over. I talked a little bit about it in my last post, but I’ve given some things up, I’m reading a book, and I’m fasting from food during daylight hours one day a week.

Some conversation around fasting has occurred in my circles, I have processed through some of these thoughts a bit, and I wanted to share them with you.

The conversation has centered around the basic question of “why is fasting not commonplace?”

Fasting is difficult – Let’s just be really shallow and honest – fasting from food is hard. Physically it is difficult. But, for me, it is more of a psychological thing. I enjoy eating food. I run a lot and so I burn a lot of calories and have to support an active metabolism, so to go from eating 3500 or so calories a day, to eating a little bit before the sun rises and then a little bit after it sets, is difficult.

Fasting is supposed to be secret – Right there in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says, if you go around bragging about how awesome you are for fasting then you won’t receive anything besides some hollow praise – no real reward. And so we have made our fasting (or lack-thereof) secret and we aren’t encouraging others with our example or being encouraged by other’s examples. And since we aren’t supposed to talk about it and stuff, we are secreting it out of our lives. Who is gonna know anyways?

Fasting is physical – When we think of spirituality we think of our Spirit. When we think of sin we often think of our flesh – our bodies – our physicality. It makes sense. After all, holiness is ethereal and other-worldly. And my physicality? Well, that just seems to get me into trouble.  Because fasting – depriving the body of what it needs and craves – is primarily physical there seems to be a disconnect. Fasting, from a purely physical standpoint, can be a spiritual act without trying to spiritualize it. Offering/sacrificing our body and its callings – growing stronger while growing weaker – is spiritual.

Fasting is subtraction – We often associate spirituality with addition. Pray more, give more, etc… But, fasting is spirituality through subtraction, which feels different and difficult. There are a lot of loose-end thoughts I have along this line of thinking. But I think I’ll leave this where it is. It just doesn’t seem natural to subtract to be more spiritual. But, to quote Meister Eckhart, “God is not found in the soul by adding anything but by a process of subtraction.”

So, these are some of the reasons why I think that fasting has fallen out of fashion. Like I said earlier, I am ready for Lent to be over. But, I do want to try and continue fasting(after a little bit of recovery time – of course!). 

I would love to hear your thoughts about fasting as well.