Strength vs Weakness: daily tensions.

I've spent a lot of prayers the last little while wishing that I was stronger.

Wishing I was stronger when...

I'm running late to something I vowed to myself I'd be on time for.

When the thought of doing laundry or the dishes makes me roll back over in bed instead of getting up.

When busses and trains make me anxious though I've travelled a thousand times before.

When I cry countless times because I'm insecure or feeling out of depth.

When I hide because that day my body is my enemy and I'm scared to spark a battle.

When public speaking leaves me irritable and fearing I have nothing to offer.

When criticism can't be constructive because I've redirected it to speak to the very core of who I am.

When I'm feeling foolish for crying after a phone call about yet another system that makes no sense to me.

If only I could be stronger, if only I could cry less.  If only I could learn my lessons faster and be less of a burden.  If at last I was stronger, then I could be of more use to you, Lord.

"No."

He says time and time again.

Are you listening?

"My power is made perfect in weakness."

Lucy, are you listening?

Hangry.

A new word got added to the Collins dictionary on 04/09/12.  That word is ‘hangry’: the irrational irritation one gets when he or she is hungry.  Not everybody succumbs to this irrational state; but it turns out, I do.

Watching people eat burgers and sausages at the graduation BBQ the last night was just about too much.  Then today I got distracted cleaning and ended up waiting too long for lunch. My skin has broken out (which though may be unrelated, I’m blaming on lack of fruit and veg).  I want a cup of TEA.

All of a sudden the ugly traits of hanger were upon me.  I was irritated. I was hungry. I was angry.

And it was IRRATIONAL.  My feelings were completely dictated by my stomach. I wasn’t starving, I’m not undernourished; I was just a little hungry, but I had completely abandoned my composure.

40 days and 40 nights Jesus didn’t eat in the dessert, He was tempted by Satan himself, offered the entire world and yet not once did he falter in His resolve.  Jesus didn’t worship his stomach; he could look beyond himself to a bigger goal.

Food, comfort, pleasure; just a few more of the false altars at which I make a daily offering. Each to be laid down at the altar of my God; each to be consumed in the refiners fire.

The Caffeine-free Chronciles.

I have been floating round the house with mugs of water in an attempt to trick my mind into thinking its getting caffeine.  If you know me at all, you will know that I love tea.  And coffee too for that matter.  So as I reach half way through my Live Below the Line challenge it isn't so much the microwaved frozen veg or plain sticky rice that is making me countdown the days...its missing the comforting embrace of a nice cup of tea.  But so far it has been going well;

Day 1 was spent in Belfast city for lunch and coffee with friends...which looked delicious for them but tasted like tap water for me.  But I enjoyed my chocolate spread sandwich as soon as we left the cafe so all was okay.

 I did feel hunger pangs by the time I had got home after walking around the city all day, so was thankful when David arrived for date night.  Monday night is usually our big treat night; eating out or cooking great dishes and eating way too much dessert.  This time, needless to say, was a little different but though the quality of food left a little to be desired I was just as (if not more) thankful to be provided with sustenance.

Day 2 I spent mainly at home which gave me a little more time to think about what the challenge is actually about. What is a sponsored week for me is reality for others and that hits hard over spoonfuls of plain cous cous.  I read Acts 4 description of the early church where I'm told "they had EVERYTHING in common."  There was not a needy person among them because each sold their possessions and laid them at the apostles feet so it could be "distributed to each as any had need."  What do I have in common with my brothers and sisters living in poverty? Certainly not everything. Do our lifestyles reflect that we are part of one body?  In the same way it would be strange for one person to be dressed in designer clothes and rags is there not a disconnect if Christ's united bride is clothed in both finery and rags whilst on earth? Surely the same needs that were present in the early church times still exist so why has the distribution ceased to continue?  Day 2's prayer is that God might be revealing to me my role in distribution, and my role in meeting the needs of His beloved people.

Day 3 I was out and about for the whole day which really showed me how much I rely on eating out. So as to not get stranded with nothing to eat I had to prepare a sandwich and cous cous snack with plenty of bottled water in  the morning to make sure I would have enough energy for the full day and was still glad by the time we made it home for a rice dinner...again...although this time I enjoyed my first piece from my much anticipated packet of bacon!!!  Morning of day 3 was frustratingly slow without my coffee kickstart, but I eventually got out of the house and it was a good day.

Day 4 has arrived and I’m half way through, looking forward to Tesco value beans on toast for lunch!  Its not so much that I’m feeling hungry as the boredom of the same plain foods that is getting to me at this point.  And again social plans have had to change as the cinema won’t be accompanied by a meal out with friends tonight.  BUT my morale has been boosted as sponsors are starting to come in.  So far I’m almost at £200 that I know about which really helps it feel worthwhile.  If you could sponsor me even a little please let me know!  Thanks for following my updates, not long to go now!

Mindless spending: thoughts as I anticipate the start of the live below the line challenge.

It was a thoughtful walk home from Tesco for me this evening.  I had just completed my shop for the coming week, where my decision to do the 'Live below the Line Challenge' from the 9th to the 15th July will take effect.  Seven days eating on a total budget of £7 lie ahead in an effort to open my eyes a little to the reality of 1 in 6 people worldwide who live below the poverty line on less than £1 a day.  As well as looking to learn from the experience I will  be receiving sponsorship to raise money for our tip to do missions in Romania next month.  The challenge seems appropriate as a preparation for part of what we will be doing out there; a two night 'Bush Camp' designed to simulate living in poverty.  This will include what we eat and where we sleep down to the fact we will be going shower and cosmetic free!

So I have bought my groceries, faced the embarrassment of having to pay then put a few items back on the shelf because they were over my budget, and this is what I could afford;

I am very excited that bacon was £1, and feeling confident that I will be able to make it.  But note that there is no coffee or tea bags on that list so if you know me at all you might be praying for those who will have to spend time with me over the next week!

On a more serious note though, it did shock me that on a second receipt from the same trip you would see that I spent £7.55 on a picnic lunch for David and I tomorrow.  That's MORE than the next weeks budget spent on one simple lunch. What does this say about the value I put on money? Am I being a good steward of what I have in my hand?  As I walked home I thought about what will come of the money I save next week; will it make it into a tithe, or go towards my sponsor kids, to support missions or even simply buy a bunch of flowers to let a friend know they are loved?  More likely it would get lost among other mindless expenditures; new summer clothes, entertainment, expensive shampoo.  I never really considered myself extravagant with spending but I know at times I am mindless.  But can I afford to be mindless when living on £1 a day is the reality for some?

(If you are able to sponsor me, it would be most appreciated; money will be going towards the cost of our teams trip to Romania and resources out there such as the children's bible club we will be running. Donations can be made online by following the green button on this page http://www.exodusonline.org.uk/teams/team-10-ex-change-romania-2014/ or I will have a sponsor sheet if you wish to give me the money in person.  Thank you so much!).

The broken pieces of the alabaster jar.

As I meditate on Luke 7 I can almost picture the scene around the dinner table: the broken pieces of the alabaster jar lie shattered at the feet of a guest, expensive perfume spilled out on the ground before Him as a weeping woman holds nothing back; her riches and dignity poured out before Him.

I can see the woman with her knees on the dirty ground and her hair lying in tangles before her as she uses it to wipe her Saviour's feet with her salty tears.  Though she is uninvited she shows hospitality to the one who has paid the ransom for her lost soul.  She is moved by the knowledge within her that she has been stained deep scarlet by the vastness of her sin yet here in front of her she finds the worn feet of the one who can clothe her in radiant white once more.

Onlookers condemn her and doubt their dinner guest for He has yet to rebuke this undignified spectacle.  But the Saviour of the sick directs his rebuke only at them; He tells them they don't understand because they have only been forgiven little so their love is also small.  All the while, the weeping woman does not falter in her kisses because she knows she has been forgiven much and from this reserve flows a love that has consumed her.

As I place myself in this story I discover that I too am broken as the alabaster jar, poured out as the perfume, dirty as the Saviour's feet and forgiven as the sinful woman.  And it is from this place where I find the forgiveness that has removed my iniquity that I uncover a raw love in me; only because at a great price that same dinner guest has also loved me first.

As life's riches increase...

Life has been so colourful lately, overflowing with beautiful places and people.  Mum came to visit which was lovely to show her round my life and my home here.  We had a glorious day at the North Coast then lots of time to natter about the happenings of life.

 

The North Coast

Then Easter crept up and four of us packed up the tents and road tripped down the West Coast of Ireland, staying in Donegal the first night, then working our way down the Wild Atlantic Way; stopping off at beaches and cities until we reached the Cliffs of Moher in Co. Clare.  There was an N.Irish, an English, a Pakistani and an American; lots of excitement about sheep, my first swim in the Atlantic ocean, sunshine and pouring rain, a leaking tent, stargazing by the sea, ukulele playing in the car and armfuls of friendship.  

The beautiful Wild Atlantic Way

Where I swam in the freezing sea

Morning walk along the beach

The stunning Cliffs of Moher

Wednesday we arrived home tired but filled with awe at the workmanship of our creator.  Then straight into setting up for Team 10's, fundraiser formal.  Team 10; the group of young people I am co-leading with David through Exodus.  This involves weekly discipleship leading up to a mission trip to Romania in July. It was a great evening; David and my first formal together and we were responsible for and catering for 90 young people, but God was faithful in meeting us at the task and all went smoothly.  We are greatly blessed with this opportunity to do ministry together and excited about this group of young people we seek to invest in.

Carryduff Baptist Church transformed

The Catering Team

Life is certainly rich at the moment and it seems to be only getting richer, so God's word tugged at my heart when I read this challenge to not look to these blessings but to Him; to not fill my heart with the created before the creator;

"If riches increase, set not your heart on them." Psalm 62:10

Busy building empires of rubble.

This afternoon I had to crawl into bed drained to listen to worship music and simply think about the name Jesus. There is power and refuge and perspective in that name, power to break every chain.

And He showed me that I am drained because I've been busy building an empire.  I've been building my efforts into a small empire to surround me as a place of security and splendour in times of success and smooth-sailing.

But when the ground shakes so is my empire shaken and I fall into uncertainty and failure: a bad grade can shake me if I built my empire on good grades. When people don't give me the feedback I want I am shaken if my empire is built on the comfort and affirmation of others.

Instead I am to take my energy and affections and build those bricks into the Kingdom of Jesus.  A Kingdom of firm foundations that will not be shaken. In doing so when I fall down I will be held up because my hope and my heart are built into something far bigger than my own efforts; something sustained by the power of Jesus and the community of believers.

How easily good things can become my downfall if I build them up around myself to prove myself safe and validated.  It is only in the shaking of the ground that my empire is revealed to be a mere pile of rubble and I can again refocus my eyes on to the unshakable and worthwhile Kingdom.

Though I still wait on Him, I am not to be silent.

So, here it is, my first blog post on the sex industry; prompted by a seminar from 'No More Traffik' last week during which we discussed and were informed of the nature and causes of trafficking. Firstly, here is a quick overview of the facts...

Trafficking: 'The coercion, movement and exploitation of people for profit.'

•  Sexual exploitation makes up 79% of human trafficking.  Most of which is at the expense of women and girls.

• The next most common form of trafficking is forced labor.

• Though the term 'trafficking' involves movement, it is most often not over international borders but something that occurs close to home.

• Trafficking occurs in at least 160 countries.  

Why? Because there is a demand. Because a body can be sold multiple times a day over years, making it the largest source of income for organised crime.

Why? Because poverty and emotional vulnerability create an opportunity for exploitation.

Why?  Because not everybody views people as made in the image of God.  A certain mind set is required for somebody to perceive another human as a commodity to be used or sold.

So why am I writing about this?
Though as mentioned earlier, this post was prompted by a seminar, it was several years ago that I first heard the specific call of God on my life to work with women in prostitution. I accepted it as something to come into action far into my future.  But now I feel the stir of the Lord.  He has been molding and breaking my heart as He prepares me, and now though I still wait on Him, I understand that I am not to be silent.

In the seminar, having been presented with the facts, we were asked which aspect of trafficking personally offends us most... what is it that resonates with my heart specifically?  What brings ME to tears?  Personally my desperation is found in the theft of dignity that is involved in the sex industry....but for the person beside me it will likely be something else.  This is powerful and beautiful; we do not barge into these issues as if we can conjure up anything to contribute to the efforts of justice, rather we look into ourselves to discover the burdens and resources already at hand and bring them to the Lord as an offering to be used and multiplied.  For some they have a great anger when they consider the traffickers, for others they are overwhelmed by the tragedy of the stories of victims, some approach with a law degree or the gift of counselling others the ability to public speak.  It is with this individuality that we can creatively begin to tackle the issue.

With creativity and individuality, but also with an acknowledgement that by myself I have nothing to offer.   Alone Lucy can not storm into the brothels and deliver justice to the owners and bring about restoration for the victims.  I have neither strength nor expertise and I know nothing of suffering.  But I wait on one who does.

 I come simply with an imperfect desperation for the renewal of dignity and justice and a young life committed to see change.Where that commitment will take me I do not know, but I felt that I should write for the first time about the deepest and most mysterious burden of my heart, that perhaps one day I can look back on the journey and witness God's hand at work from the start.

"Shake yourself from the dust and arise; be seated O Jerusalem; loose the bonds of your neck O captive daughter of Zion." Isaiah 52:2

Decluttering life.

Every semester Belfast Bible College takes a day off classes for a 'Quiet day,' which probably tells you a lot in itself about the college ethos.  So today fellowship groups piled in cars to head out to the zoo, surfing, monasteries, Dublin...all over.  My group set out for the Ulster Folk and Transport Museum.

And may I say, today has been one of the best days of my time here. The museum was great, the company even better.  Never underestimate the power of an intentional day off...a Sabbath of your education.

The museum recreated an old village that you were free to wander around and experience how life would have been.  Each of us were struck by the beauty of the simplicity; small houses, few possessions, only home-made entertainment.  How strikingly different to the clutter of our lives and homes.  How far our schedules waver from following daylight hours and working with our hands.  How far apart bigger houses can drive family and social media can drive community.  Are we not at danger of cluttering our lives to the point of loneliness?

It was a fun and leisurely day of learning about the past as well as a time of fellowship, laughter and great conversations.  How refreshing it is to relax into casual yet deep discussions on everything from marriage to war and poverty with like-minded people.

And then in the evening I get the privilege to have somebody take me to a hill to wonder at the stars together and quietly contemplate the happenings of the day.

So there is a peek into a fantastically ordinary but lovely day, whilst I warm up with a hot chocolate and reflect on the lessons to be learnt.

Our Small Adventure.

It seems I have developed a delightful habit of taking a week off each semester for a refuel and an adventure! This semester it took the form of Glasgow, Edinburgh, Newcastle.  Time to make new friends, catch up and say goodbye to an old friend and travel with David for the first time.

And what a JOY it has been, our time in Scotland was filled with castles, parks, museums, bus tours, hostels, pancakes, afternoons in coffee shops and much craziness.  How sweet it is to spend time away in good company.

Then I traveled on home to touch base with family and friends and enjoy my own bed once again. Good conversations and the power of being back by the beach; being home refreshes my soul, but this time also signified to me a shift in seasons.

And what did I hear? That we are different.

That the Lord stirs up different things in each of us and persuades our hearts in different directions.  I can not impose my relationship with God as an expectation for others, nor should I desire for theirs to look the same.  Advice is limited in that their are a thousand paths, but God is not limited because He faithfully goes before us.

My seasons.

When the seasons change,
Who forewarns the trees?
Who makes their branches sturdy,
Who prepares them for the breeze?

When the snow is scheduled to come,
Who tells the birds to stock up?
Are they told to layer their nest,
Or is their survival simply luck?

When the sun begins to scorch,
Is there a call to alert the slugs?
Does somebody order their movement;
How come we dont lose the bugs?

My point is that seasons change,
But nature always seems to be ready;
So when it comes to my seasons,
Will my balance also be held steady?

The weariness found in the RISES and FALLS of esteem.

I believe passionately that I am to be true to myself.

But my secret is that it is tiring.

I do NOT agree with a consumerist culture where we posses beauty and run after fashion.  I do NOT believe beauty is found in a size, or can be measured by our ability to never change; your jeans always fitting right or your skin always remaining smooth.  Deep in my spirit I know that beauty does NOT demand perfection.

But I say 'deep', because sometimes that knowledge is buried.

The world does NOT testify to the convictions of my spirit.  Beauty IS to be consumed and measured.  It is an understanding of the eyes: not the heart or the ears or the mind.  And its tiring being watched, because we do NOT always wake up to clear skin and our clothes do NOT always fit right. It's tiring because the world has power to undermine our value.

I read a while ago and have pondered since: one of Satan's most subtle and successful lies of all time is convincing women they look better with make-up.

'Although your esteem may rise and fall, your TRUE worth never changes.'
And so be it.

And He said to me...

"My child, it is good for you to be near to me.  I love to lavish blessings on you out of the abundance of my love; a fount that will never run dry!

But my blessings only go so far, as a sign post to me.  I long to draw you towards myself and minister to your soul.

Lucy I never designed you to be strong, as it is written, it is in your very weakness that my power manifests itself and brings forth perfection.

I see the devil whisper lies to you; two fold lies that at the same time put a demand on you to be perfect in your own strength, he tells you you are almost there, if you could only be a little better you will spare me of the duty of perfecting you on your behalf.  And then in the next breath he speaks and shouts your imperfections over you.  He drags mistakes up from the bottom of the ocean of my forgiveness.  But my forgiveness, though similar in vastness is NOT an ocean; there is no bottom, no distance to which the blood of my son can not flow.  No stain is too stubborn to be removed.  I desire for you to live in the freedom of this truth, not to be bound up in the malicious, yet subtle lies of our enemy.

I do not need you, yet every day I am jealous for you.  It is good for you to be near to me, rest in the shadow of my wings.

I love you, Abba, Father."

The beauty is in the story.

Thursday brought with it Belfast Bible College's retreat.  We headed to the beautiful coast to enjoy each other's company and wait on the Lord.

It was a rich time of fellowship through eating together, worship time and midnight walks.  The teaching over the two days was different; a fresh perspective on both the gospel and life at BBC. We were reminded of the profound way in which Jesus spoke through silence, then focused on his use of stories to communicate.  Each story being a journey to be experienced rather than a dispensable  means to a moral.  This is both transforming of how we view Jesus' parables and applicable to the testimonies of our lives.  The beauty lies in the story; in the being, in the flaws, in the journey.  We can not extract the good and forget the very path that strengthened us.

Let us find freedom in his grace and fall into his beauty! I give thanks for the richness and potential of the community at BBC.

Who am I that you are mindful of me?

"When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him..?" Psalm 8:4

Its not even that he is mindful in that he created the human body so INTRICATELY that it can see and think and breathe and remember, and so EXTRAVAGANTLY that each person's thumbprint is unique.  Its not even that he is mindful in that he gave us souls and free will with the desire that we might choose to worship him, then pursued us with sacrificial love to ensure the door was always available should we choose to knock.  But today the mindfulness that leaves me in awe is that he is has a plan for every part of our lives, and he unravels it in stepping stones.

At church here I have become involved in working with the 11-18 year olds on a Sunday night, through a group called 'Focus'.  I had decided against finding a weekly placement through college with the hope that a ministry would come about naturally, so it fitted well when I was asked to help out.  Though nervous I wouldn't have the skills to connect with the young people, Focus has been a joy to be a part of and I have surprised myself with a feeling of urgency for them to come to know Christ.

Then tonight was 'connect' night at church which is once a month to unite the church and pray into different aspects. And the theme this time was our Focus group.  I got to hear for the first time of the issues and the prayer behind the group starting; the fact that there were originally just two people in that age group, and the fact that they were praying for leaders: cue Andy and I starting at the church.

And then the other victory; that Andy, Hannah and I had to plan and deliver this service.  Public speaking; something I had come to dread due to a time of a lack of self-esteem is perhaps slowly being returned to me (this is the third time I have had to speak at this church).  But the stepping stone is gradual because the Lord is a gentleman to me and the audience at Finaghy Baptist is small and generous with their encouragement.

Tonight I can't shake the sense that the Lord has far greater plans in store for me than I envision for myself.  He is not only mindful of me; he is EXTRAVAGANTLY concerned and INTIMATELY involved in every aspect of my life.  The very same God who made the moon and the stars, how can this be?

Overcoming Claustrophobia with Contentment.

I found myself calling home tonight with a frustrated soul.  I was feeling claustrophobic.  I never expected to feel so at home in Belfast; more than just studying here I have fallen for the character.  And yet half way through my degree I find myself with itchy feet.  To a gypsy heart, three years seems like a long time.

And do you know what my mother blamed? Facebook.  Mum is evangelical about the woes of false and constant communication, I usually just roll my eyes but I see her point here.  The root is in the comparison.

I compare myself to others.  For whatever insecurity I feel at that particular time I am met with the smiling face of somebody who has mastered it.  There are newly weds, pregnancy pictures, travel photos, people living up the party lifestyle, others writing reflective poetry about their awesome spiritual life, people working hard having found their career and then there are those that simply look great.

I compare myself to myself.  Its easy to look back on life and compare the seasons.  Times of travel or a group of friends; wishing to be younger again or yearning to be settled as a wife or a mother.  I have ideas of where I should be at this point and I'm quick to critique my shortcomings.

Each comparison designed to rob me of wholeness in myself and of feeling joy for the other person.  The Devil smirks, and I grow frustrated.

But I read the other day,

"But godliness with contentment is great gain" 1 Timothy 6:6

This advice is completely counter to our culture, something I'm looking for more of in my life.  In a society that seeks to take our dignity and sell it back to us, we must not fall into the comparison trap but instead intentionally guard our contentment each day.

A trip to where they drink coffee out of bowls.

Travelling is one of the main things in my life that has consistently produced growth.  Growth has come through both positive and negative means; lavish generosity, physical exhaustion, poor leadership, poverty, beauty, cultures I love and cultures I hate.  But travel is always different and so always provokes a response.

This past week I got to travel to France, to visit some good friends.  For me the whole week provided the fresh space and courage I needed to listen to what God had to say.

Firstly, I heard that the Lord has good things! He lavishes faithfulness and provision on us because we are his children! He does not wait until we are in the midst of persecution or have sacrificed our life on the mission field, he is actively and creatively concerned with my every need! Rich friendships, good food, creation and stimulation of the mind are to be appreciated not denied.

Then the beauty of visiting church in another language.  I first fell in love with this in Colombia where it blew my mind how much I got out of listening to a sermon in Spanish.  And so again, in France I was reminded of the extraordinary vastness of my God.  When you don't understand the words spoken you get to look around and take comfort in the fact that the French girl across the room has invested her life in the SAME God, because she too knows him to be true.  A God bigger than language and culture, and lo and behold bigger than me. And the sound of worship songs in French is certainly beautiful too.

And my third main lesson  came in a whisper on a ski slope.  When surrounded by a never ending blanket of snow and the mystery of the mountains, I get a glimpse of what it means when I read that if we do not praise, the rocks will cry out.  The purity of creation, far better a worshiper than I am.  And it was into the awe of my heart as I considered the whiteness of the snow, that the Lord spoke to me, 

"Look around and take note my child, for this is the colour of your soul."

1/1/14

Just when I had got adjusted to being at home, its time to pack up again, next stop is France on Friday! I'm surprisingly weepy about leaving so soon.  But i'm glad to have ushered in the New Year with great friends then spent the first day of the year fighting the elements and hiding out in our new favourite cafe with my sweet family.

So hello 2014, you are already my new favourite year! How blessed I am to get to BEGIN with a full heart.  And now all that's left is to make a (rather long) note of my resolutions;

1. Become a better listener
2. Worry less
3. Waste less money
4. Grumble less
5. Discover and develop spiritual disciplines
6. Use less artificial communication... in fact use my phone less in general
7. Invest more in young people
8. Embrace my quirks

Fall on your knees.

I'm flawed and selfish. I am too young for wisdom and too old for innocence.  I do not know how to begin to love another as myself, at times even loving myself is too much for me.

In a facade of humility I strike up a parade of focus on me.  When I don't know the right answers I build up my walls and scramble to stay standing.

But one greater than I has strode in; one who knows how to love perfectly.  He is relentless in bringing me to my knees.

Never meant to stand in my own strength, I'm accepted whilst riddled with flaws.  My fickle heart must look up from the mire towards its maker if it is to learn anything of love.

Returning to England; life outside the bubble.

It is sweet, so sweet to be home again. My joy is complete, being back among family and familiar places.

But England feels cold.  Had I forgotten how secular the atmosphere is here?  Today catch ups have come with the news of affairs, suicide and people 'taking a break' from church.  My bubble was popped.  It seems there is a consensus of disappointment with life...with the church.

Tonight, as I headed back to Jesmond for a carol service, I reminisced on my school days.  How different was life with only one other christian in my year? How did I cope? Yet how much more disciplined was my witness! I had an awareness that for some I was all they would see of Christianity, and I took that responsibility seriously.

Let me remember this feeling of being worn out by the ways of the world.  How long it had been since I last crawled into bed craving the Lord's presence.  How long it had been since I felt this genuine ache for the salvation of others.

As it turns out, I quite like people after all.

I love all the articles circulating recently about understanding introverts. They help me understand and relax into quirks about myself that I used to fight.  I have always loved spending time in my own company, if I go too long without 'Lucy time' I become quiet and unable to interact with those around me.  I'm no longer myself because I haven't been able to recharge.

But in the past while, the way I view people has changed. My heart has been softened and opened by a delight in those the Lord has placed around me. It has been a blurred cycle of lovable personalities and a change in my attitude.  Beauty in people has altered my attitude and an altered attitude has allowed me to better see this beauty.

Returning to Texas was a surprising joy; I had anguished over whether it would still feel like home, yet so quickly the hospitality there overwhelmed me once again and I became firm in the knowledge that wherever my life journeys, I will always have family in Ft Worth and a bed to sleep in.

Then back home to N.Ireland, where I have independence and routine. I never have plans here yet delight in the almost constant company of others. I find security in the community of my college and my church but even more so through the investment of great friends; friends that are opening my thinking and growing my confidence.  Never have I more desired the will of God in my life, or spent more time contemplating that plan.  Perhaps I allow Him more trust as I get to live out the good plans He has directed me in so far.

Thirdly, being away from home.  The friendship I have found in my parents and sister.  My greatest supporters live on the outskirts of my life, yet a phone call home brings the laughter and council to mend any situation.  I am thankful for this distance that has made the heart grow fonder, but I am bursting with childish excitement to fly home on Friday.  Returning to Whitley Bay doesn't just bring family, but also the group of friends who know me best.  More than ever, since Summer, we have kept in touch, pounding each other with prayer requests and speaking support into each other's lives and decisions.

So, I ask myself if life has ever been so sweet? And I thank those who make it so easy to enjoy.

Soli Deo Gloria.

The OTHER love story.

It was just a fling of summer adventures in England; late nights, giggles and charming my families affections.

It grew with the switching back and forth over the summers, I stayed with her in Texas, she came back to England.

It became sisterhood when she moved in with my family for a year.  We became partners in crime; forever in trouble for staying up too late, sleeping in the same bed, making too much noise...or too much mess. Sharing secrets, winding each other up.  We had a special way of making coffee, a constant stream of little notes, we put our names together: Meredith + Lucy = Mercy. We traveled together, wept together, danced in the rain and wore each others clothes.  We were accountability partners and every night we prayed together.

Then she moved home...and I moved there too.  We fell out, we missed each other.  We fell back together.  Trips to the lake, roadtrips, lunch dates more cups of tea. Visiting her at Uni, boyfriends, break ups, tears and laughter.

I came home and started a life in N.Ireland, came back to Texas visit.  Waffle house, life talks, matching mugs... our boyfriends living together. Us missing living together.

Long distance sisterhood, letters and packages.  Texts and skype calls.  Tears and joys shared, break ups and growth. Always missing each other.

And now she is getting married.  The first of my sisters.  I have to hand over her snuggles and kisses and secrets to somebody else. It's weird and it's lovely and she is in good care.  Always a sister I chose for myself, part of my family and part of my heart.  So many things she introduced me to, or brought out in me, a thousand ways she has helped me to grow.

So in a few days I'm skipping class to fly thousands of miles to be there to see Chad and Meredith get hitched!!!  Here's to the next season, with a reflection on the last. "Mercy is splendiferous." 

 p.s. I love you.

Questions I have asked God this week.

I am, by personality, a thinker.  This runs into every area of my life and I am not unfamiliar with the advice, "Lucy. I think you might be over thinking this..." 

Studying theology is therefore deeply satisfying for me, but also a great source of frustration.  This week has been a headache because of two burning questions that I can not seem to resolve.

Firstly, "God, why am I not a Muslim?"

This may seem a strange thing to ask, but the issue was raised in class as we studied pluralism, inclusivism and exclusivism.

 Do all religions worship the same God?   It has been suggested that the religions all emerged at a similar time because God was revealed and then interpreted differently in different cultural contexts; forming the different world religions.  I was shocked to hear that some Christians refer to God as 'Allah' when praying because they believe both are the same.

Or should I approach my religion as separate but true only in that it is right for me? Whereas Buddhism may also be true because it is right for my friend.  Must I simply respect their beliefs and not seek to convert them to my thinking?

If the above are incorrect then why do I get to assume the superior religion? Because I have experienced God? Because Christianity has a Holy Book that tells me so? Would these arguments stand against the testimony of a 20 year old girl of another religion?

And so my mind echoes the question that has been put to me before, If I was born in the Middle East with a Muslim mother, would I not be Muslim too?

Secondly, "God, since when did you approve of Genocide?"

This was raised by an essay on the conquests of Joshua where I have anguished over finding a conclusion.  The arguments available follow that the story is either historically true or a myth. If it is true then God divinely sanctioned and therefore approved of the total destruction of an indigenous people in Canaan. But if it is a myth, which archaeological contradictions would seem to agree with, then my whole viewpoint of the bible must open up and change.  Tempting though it is to dismiss the moral dilemmas raised and understand it all to be story, the opportunity to recreate an idea of God's behaviour that suits the ethics of today's society does not sit well with me.  

I am therefore exposed to the issue of an apparent inconsistency with the loving and compassionate God of life I think I know.  i've always known the Old Testament is violent but what I once pushed to the back of my mind now seems unavoidable. I read the other day the suggestion that those who say they love the bible, probably haven't read it all. Is this true, am I unable to love it all?

Stopping for a moment to count my blessings.

This week I have been given a good glimpse of God.  Not so much directly from him but through the reflection of his beauty, enabled by his grace.

I have seen him alive in the people I have spent time with. Specifically in my new church family, where my heart has been softened by people remembering my name, inviting me out and delighting in sharing in my life. I have overheard people praying for me, and I have been given the opportunity to share about my home.

Also in my bible college friends; the security of their love and the testimony of their faith.  This week I have seen friends be bruised by life yet faithfully cling to the love of the Lord, allowing us to find laughter amongst their tears. I've had family time over games nights and shared meals.  And together we have basked in frustration at the trauma of having to actually read over reading week!

I have been shown God in his creation. I was whisked off on a girls weekend to Carlingford just across the border into Ireland.  It was a retreat of girl talks into the early hours of the morning, lie ins, walking adventures, board games, and much laughter.  How sweet it was to get to know those girls and their enjoyment of life.  But also how clearly I could gain perspective when faced with the beauty of that place.  Views God had created out of the extravagance of his nature, no detail idly overlooked; for no other purpose but the display of his glory.

"If they keep quiet the stones will cry out."

And yet again exploring the North Coast...

This week I have also been given a glimpse of myself.  Especially today. I have moaned over slow computers, and requirements of my course.  I wanted to cry at having to walk an extra 10 minutes on the way to Tesco because I forgot my purse. I have been impatient with others and envious of their blessings. Worse, I have been impatient with God, demanding a fresh and exciting revelation.

How far I am from his perfection and how quickly I let go of who he is. This week has been a gift wrapped in grace yet like an ungrateful child I have quickly become unsatisfied and demand more. So should I now strive to replicate his awesome perfection? Perhaps  not. But can I stop for a minute to count my blessings? Well that's what this post is about.

Make a map of it.

Having grown up a Christian, there are things I do not know or understand for myself.  I never had a conversion from disbelief, I never thought this life is all their is, and I have never been an outsider in the church.

Until I moved away for university that is, where God quickly began to change my experience of the latter.  For the first time last year, I found myself venturing out into the different denominations, looking for a personality fit, a housegroup and a group of friends to journey alongside.

I was met with none of these.  Over the last year and a bit, I have worked my way through several churches, in a turbulent cycle of optimism, pessimism and always a final (or sometimes immediate) loneliness.  Falling asleep in sermons, being made uncomfortable by huge chandeliers and expensive sound systems, stumbling through songs I don't know.  Again and again I have found myself in a morning of awkward small talk or left to stand by myself. Recently, more than once, I didn't take communion because I was intimidated by the tradition; I had never gone up and knelt before; did I have to be confirmed?

I have officially been an outsider in church.

Finally, I have found a church.  A small, local Baptist church, where the Pastor remembers my name, the girls invite me to socials and I have friends from college to sit with.  I can relax with a church home.  But I can't shake what the Lord has opened my eyes to during the journey to get here.  Yes I need to remember to move over and talk to new comers, but isn't a bigger solution needed? If this is the experience of somebody who has been attending church for 20 years, what is it like for those coming for the first time?

My first home!

I wake up with achy muscles, the kind that accompany a move.

This is a new stage in life; my first home! Two great friends in a beautiful house, doing life together in Northern Ireland.  So far, I love this stage.

I look out of my bedroom and can see what us English call mountains, what the rest call hills. I'm right by college so I can still...well... get to class last.

This home has been prayed for and prayed over.  It's not what we expected but a thousand times better.  A gift from our generous God to be accepted and passed on, hopefully as a gift to all who may spend time here.

My prayer is that we create a space for our own friendship, and our own growth.  I need to learn diligence in routine and cleaning, my housemate needs to learn to cook!  Both of us studying and getting to know our God better.  But also a space to welcome the joys of our friends, to get to know new friends and to simply love the broken-hearted.

I can only hope that we don't hold on to this blessing, that this year doesn't fly by too fast.

Little sister syndrome.

It has suddenly dawned on me that I am SUCH a little sister.

Sometimes time with the wider family brings fresh clarity.  This weekend everybody came up for my Grannie's 80th birthday weekend.

My big sister went for walks with the family, was the designated driver for dinner, emptied the dishwasher without being asked, succeeded at keeping conversation flowing...

Meanwhile, I slept instead of going for walks, was driven (by the sister) to meet friends for drinks, I, again, slept during the cleaning (to be rudely woken with a water gun by an equally immature uncle) and managed to make a bombsite out of the spare room whilst my double bed was lent out.

And then this morning, as I bravely wrestle the cruel grip of man flu, my big sister went to meet friends, leaving me tucked in her bed, with her teddy (which I usually make fun of her for...but is surprisingly comforting) and a freshly made cup of tea (vaguely resembling dishwater, but the sentiment is all the same.)

So in the midst of a comfortable sick day I wonder if us little sisters really can consider ourselves 'young and free' by nature? Or is our carefree independence a privilege of somebody bigger looking after us and shouldering an extra bit of our responsibility?

Therefore be shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves.

Depression.  The kind that isn't ongoing but lasts a few days.  Medically, I don't even know if that's possible, from experience I can tell you it is.

The days when you can't stop crying, where being alone is lonely, you can't make plans.  I'll go on Facebook and everybody is getting engaged or married.  People genuinely asking what I'm doing that day are mocking me and prying. I fear my life amounts to nothing, my thoughts are dramatic, I can't stop crying. I'm alone.

This can last for two or three days.  I'll lie in bed till the last minute because I can't find the energy to go to church, people's conversations are too loud, I want to get back to bed.

And then every time the Holy Spirit speaks to me, either in  my spirit or through somebody else and simply reminds me of something about to happen.  Something good, for the glory of the Lord.  Today it was the reminder  of youth camp starting tomorrow, where as a leader, I have the opportunity to be a vessel through which God's grace will impact lives.  And all of a sudden the sadness is exposed as an attack.  Once acknowledged, it begins to fade.  I can pray against it.  It starts to pass.

Let me clarify that this is a specific and short term attack that the enemy uses against me.  I do not suggest that ongoing depression will necessarily pass once acknowledged.  Rather, let this be a reminder that we are warned to be shrewd as snakes, for the enemy roams, ready to paralyze us in our service and seeking to steal our joy.  Sometimes, we have to ride out the attacks, sometimes we can pray and are delivered, but it is important to know the ways (whether big or small) Satan finds a foothold in our lives so we can expose and overcome them.

The Princess and the Pea.

Though the Princess and the Pea has been criticized in many ways and some believe it to portray that women must be 'thin-skinned,' I do not see this.  I have decided i'm quite fond of this fairytale.  Because in the midst of many girls claiming to be princess but turning out to not be, the Princess has to allow her true identity to come out by itself through her sensitivity.  Whilst the Princess is bold in knowing and proclaiming who she is on entering the castle, her nature is discovered rather than proclaimed.

I have no desire to be, or be thought of as a princess.  But I do value integrity and good character.  The kind that is slowly built, kept sharp by the weathering of life.  We can be quick to proclaim who we want to be seen as, but in the end, like the Princess, our true character will be revealed.  The Princes was suited because of her heritage; we choose our character ourselves.

Twenteeeeeen!

Its the end of the teen years in 8 days!

In January I resolved to be 19, whilst I'm 19.  One of the best decisions I've made.  It's been a whirl wind of girl time, alone time, singleness, good books, craft days, cocktail nights, dancing, learning and dreaming.  Everything being 19 should welcome.

There's so much immaturity still here.  Way too much sleeping time, no job, messy room, short skirts, general unladylikeness.

But some maturity too.  Finding a house to rent, travel, forming my own opinions, study.

And now it's hello twenty! The next phase!

Here's to understanding life a little more, whilst still knowing nothing of it!

Understanding growth.

I have felt myself changing since this time last year, and I know others have seen it too.  My freedom in myself, my strength, my self esteem, my oneness with the Lord.  Through hurt I decided to chase after godliness and the life I was called to create. I've had to restart and refind myself.  For the first time ever I found myself truly lonely, and i've had to work through that and adjust how I view the world and other's hearts, in accordance with a greater understanding. Then I have felt the love of sincere people. It's been easier to pursue the Lord, and more enjoyable.  My affections have naturally fallen on him.

But my enjoyment has been limited by the niggling voice of the past.  Because I've deeply known the battle between spirit and flesh and the crushing knowledge that life on this earth is a dirty battle with sin. And now I shy away from embracing my part in the battle because I know there have been times that I have walked away.

But this isn't true to the story of the bible.  Never does the Lord define people by what they did yesterday or two years ago because he urges that we simply turn away and walk in newness of life. I am finally grasping the obvious, that growth takes us from a lower position and celebrates the beauty of moving forward. Growth is not hypocritical because we were once weak, rather it is powerful because we now find ourselves strong.

Grace restores me and carries me forward and it does not dismiss my battles. Everything I think and do can be used for His glory and to equip my ministry, should I let Him.  Grace is for me, today, be it in my weakness or my growth.

A letter to a friend.

The roller coaster of life has leveled off for now and I can see you looking around.  Do you get off? Is it a peak coming up? Or are you headed for a fall? I'm glad to see you unsettled, I have a feeling you weren't designed for the humdrum life and yet my heart longs to surround you with comfort and fun.  So I wanted to encourage you on this level ground because I have no doubt that there are mountains to come, and my word for you would be formulation.  Formulation of confidence, responsibility, experience, adaptability, the softening of the heart that comes with understanding loneliness, the strengthening of the heart that is expectant of change.  With every season I get to see you grow and develop who you are.  But my message isn't of growth, important though it is, but of affirmation of who you are.  You desire to make the Lord proud and I'm jealous of that but if you could stand in my shoes you would see, that you already do by who you are; the influence of your love, frustrations, thinking and creativity. My favorite thing is that you are fun, and I find fun goes a very long way, to brighten corners is a ministry in itself. 

So now I come and go and your life is different to mine, and there are parts that I don't understand.  But my heart is with you in the transition stage, and know I'm excited with you for now and for what is to come.

5 GREAT sources of joy.

The other day I finally had enough light and mirrors to see that I had an infected piercing.  I had to laugh that it took coming home to be able to realise this... which got me thinking about the things I absolutely love most about being home...

Firstly, the food.  There is not one 'Tesco value' item in my house, avocados are no longer my 'treat of the week' and salads can now consist of more than just spinach..which makes them rather more tempting.

Second, seeing the beach almost every day.  The ocean makes me feel small...and I need to be reminded that Lucy is small...well almost every day.

Third, driving.  But only locally and at night when its just me and taxis because the rest of the time its scary. (okay, so maybe driving isn't so much one of the highlights).

Fourthly, my girls.  Snuggles and cuddles and great sense of humors.  Just being in their presence realigns my opinion of myself: to take myself less seriously, and to take who I am more seriously.

Fifth, rest time to think and...well...rest. I do sleep a lot at Uni as well but there is nothing sweeter than the odd day of doing nothing which nobody knows about.  I know, I'm boring, but its kinda a victory for me.

"I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love." Mother Teresa

At 6am this morning goodbyes came around again as another team from Texas left.  Sometimes I feel like the Christian walk is full of goodbyes, but I am reassured by the thought that goodbyes only hurt much when we are not afraid to love much.  

Their time over here tied in perfectly for me with coming back to start a summer at home.  Each of them has consistently shared their faith and their joy, looking around for opportunities and keeping their hearts open to and soft for revival.  I shared on one of the nights that after years of pausing in the song 'greater things are yet to come, greater things are still to be done in this city,' due to lack of vision of change, I can finally come home and see my church reaching out to youth inside and outside of the church.  The youth center is redecorated, we have a passionate and relational youth worker, and young people with no church background are being creatively welcomed in. 

My diligence towards evangelism and building relationships has been challenged, watching the Normandale team, but also being reminded this week of the impact that others have had when they invested in me. 

I've been homesick for my church all year and it's hard to know that my partaking in the vision here is limited to holiday time, but I am excited for this summer of rest and restoration but also of intentionally being a part of a growing and vibrant community.

Frustrations.

I find it so powerful how the Holy Spirit not only meets us in the moment but at times goes before us to break or mold or equip us.  One of the ways I see this clearly is in our personalities, how our likes and dislikes can be a guide and preparation for our calling.  There are those things that always make you cry, or angry or excited; the random things you can't shake from your mind.

 Lately I have found a curiosity into whether there is a disconnect between Christian culture and Christ-likedness.  Obviously this is completely culture subjective, but I have been worried by, and debated, the extra rules we have added to Christianity and the resulting judgement passed on those who do not comply.

I couldn't understand why it frustrated me so much, beyond the usual hurt pride, when people comment on my clothes or lifestyle until I considered it in light of the burden of my heart.  I realised I am worried, worried that as much ministry the Lord may have prepared for me for women in the sex industry, they not be accepted by or feel at home in the church.  I feel like I want to prepare Christian culture for openmindedness and sensitivity and acceptance; but how are we to balance this with the integrity of high standards? How do I turn my frustration into constructive preparation?

I am desperately small in the face of my calling, but it is amazing for me to see my heart being formed.  That it is not just my affections that can guide me but my frustrations too.

"He has made everything beautiful in its time." Ecclesiastes 3:11

A good friend passed this wisdom on to me today, I felt it was worth remembering.

 "In my garden back home, we had grapes growing.  One time a lady brought me one of the small unripe grapes and told me to eat it.  I didn't want to because I knew it would be bitter, but she told me to remember how it tasted.  Like the grape that hasn't yet had enough sun, nothing tastes as good as in the right time."

She was talking about relationships, but I know in all things I have a tendency to try and race through life, feelings first. Yes life is fleeting, but for everything there is a proper time.

"They shall speak of you as the ministers of our God..." Isaiah 61:6

Years ago, before I was familiar with the voice of God speaking directly into my life, I was given the passage Isaiah 61 as a mission statement for my life.  Since then, the Lord has used the journeys of my life to slowly realize its meaning; one verse at a time.

Tonight I was reading 'Multiply' by Francis Chan and I had the meaning of 'minister' redefined for me.  Chan shared that there is a disconnect between the church's belief that the great commission is still relevant and our actual living out of discipleship.  We leave ministering to ministers and excuse ourselves from investing in people, because we "are not called to be a minister", "are busy" and "have our own issues."

But each of us has been called to make disciples and have been crafted and equipped to do so.  "The pastor is the equiper, and every member of the church is a minister."  The calling is simple but the implications and cost are heavy.


A minister:
3. An authorized diplomatic representative of a government, usually ranking next below an ambassador. 
4. A person serving as an agent for another by carrying out specific orders or functions.

To minister: 
1. To attend to the wants and needs of others.

Did Jesus have a six pack?

Last year Holly befriended a couple of Mormon missionaries, while we were living in Texas.  One time we were chatting with them and I made a joke about how white the Jesus on their pamphlet was.

But we are just as guilty.  Easter week they showed a reenactment of the crucifixion at my church, and Jesus had a six pack.  Now maybe you know some historical evidence that suggests it would be typical for people to have amazing abs in that culture, but I had to laugh at the thought of Jesus doing sit ups.

And it is comical, but it is also quite scary.  The other day, somebody showed me an image of what Jesus is actually likely to have looked like.



Its scary because I have become comfortable with my images, I know the Jesus whose arms I would run into, I know what Jesus looked like when he let the little children come to him.  I know MY Jesus.

But what if the man above came and sat in my living room?  Would I be awkward around Jesus?  That scares me. Perhaps I need to let go of MY Jesus and open my mind to the 33 year old Jewish man who death couldn't hold.

I've been thinking about thinking.

I have always been afflicted with thinking too much.  It comes naturally to me, sometimes helping me approach the world around me with better understanding, other times simply driving me to exhaustion and head ache.

A theology degree is a great privilege, I know there are many who long to be equipped with such teaching who simply don't have the time, tied up with the responsibilities of life.  All I have to do for the next three years is dive into the bible, the culture of the old and new testaments, be taught in theological thinking and trained for pastoral care.  I spend just 9 hours in class and the rest of the time I am guided in reading, essay writing and the formulation of my theology.  Its delightful.

But its becoming evident that this is more than a study; its a formulation and growth of me.  And the Lord is not willing to let the hard questions be avoided.  My strongholds are being shaken, my comfort of who my God is has been constantly tested.  My pride is unveiled and my security laid bare.  More than ever I barely look up as I ask, "who is this God that I serve?"  And every temptation is to pull away from the intellectual study of God, I revel more than ever in worship, it is finally my JOY because worship searches me when I am tired of searching God.

So yes, I take a nap most days and I have a backlog of thoughts in my head.  But I am reminded that I do not labour in vain, I am being trained for service.

"So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air." 1 Corinthians 9:26

Wait, where did it all go?

I've been dropping things lately, like sand falling through my fingers.  I have peace about each decision, but all of a sudden I realise there is nothing left in my hands.

I have stopped working with Teen Challenge, though have not quit on this ministry to which the Lord has called me.

I have left the Church I was at, though look for a new body to challenge and enthuse me

I have no savings, yet a job application form sits in my recycling bin.

In fact, apart from my studies I am holding on to very little right now.  And from the outside I'm sure it looks rather unrighteous and illogical.  Its certainly unsettling.

So with nothing to bring to the table, I ask the Lord to fill my hands once more. And meanwhile I must be content to trust in the mystery of his ways.

"Would you like an Earl Grey or are you more of a Coke person?"

There are several girls I hold in my heart as sisters.  These are the women whose weddings I will sob at, children I will devote myself to and achievements I will wholeheartedly celebrate.

Recently I made room in my heart for another.  She is Northern Irish.  She has to have cereal before she goes to bed, she never says no to a cup of tea, she can't tell a story sitting down and she captivates rooms full of people.  Without fail she captivates rooms.  We bicker like an old married couple, we nap together, we can have conversations by looking at each other. She's the one who talks me through my (frequent) tears.

And I want to share this evening as a snapshot of how she revives my spirit.  She came into my room (she doesn't bother knocking anymore) and sat on my bed with her guitar.  She played some worship but didn't sing.  Now I've sat by her in chapel before so I know she can sing and asked her to do so now.  But she refuses, she says she can't sing.  Eventually I persuade her to and she plays me a worship song she has written, with the beautiful voice of one who recognizes her source of grace.  She does not see the weight of who she is, through no fault of her own.

She then made up a song about me and the fact she had caught me wearing a facing mask, my big feet... cute stuff like that.

Then we worshiped.

And she is beautiful and talented and sweet and humble and strong.

And she is my reminder that it's okay that I don't have a valentine this year.  And she is my reminder that i'm far from being alone.