I asked my dad what he liked best about Ramadan.

He told me he likes the evening prayers, where the faithful crowd into the corner mosques to hear the Holy Book read and to pray side-by-side.

"It really reminds you of who you are...which is nothing. You know? It's like, five minutes ago, maybe you were important--maybe you're the boss of people ore making big deals with lots of money--but then Allah has us come into the mosque and touch our heads to the ground and remember that he is everything and we are nothing. Five times a day, we put our faces ot the floor and remember who we are. We live twenty, fifty, amybe a hundred years, and then we disappear again. We're nobody. It doesn't add to God's wealth when we pray--it adds to ours because it reminds us who God is."

I got the chills as he spoke, and my eyes filled with familiar tears--the tears I taste when I receive a hand-written message from the Lord.

My dad spoke the truth--the very words I had heard from God that morning. God had reminded me, just hours before, of how very small I am and how immeasureable he is--the Almighty, the Lord of Lords. Separeate and unspeakably beautiful, awesome beyond our ability to express...This is my precious Savior.

A high view of God is the beginning of everything--fear of the Lord, the trembling humiliation of acknowledging our absolutely finite existence. This is an essential piece of reality--near the very core, I might venture to say.

To believe in a small God is, in my opinion, an incredible failure of logic.

To deny him is one thing--to belittle him is something entirely different.

Holy, holy, holy. Period.

(And, crowning this glory is the unspeakable miracle--one my father didn't share with me--that this God is a Redeemer, a Lover, a Counselor. Tender, tender, tender.)

Ramadan Kareem

Well, friends, I'm here in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia--the city where I made most of my childhood memories. It is a unique, bewildering, bewitching nation of paradoxes, ruled by the arbitrary.

It's currently 113 degrees and blindingly sunny, and our three-room "house" feels stuffy and crowded. Our overworked air-conditioning faithfully cranks in each room, blowing out semi-stale air in an attempt to keep us cool. 

It's Friday afternoon, and, having finished with the noon prayers (Friday is the Muslim holy day, equivalent to Sunday in America) the whole city lies still. Normally, now would be the time for families to gather to eat a large, late lunch, followed by more sleeping or football-watching. Most people don't stir outside their homes until after sundown. 

This is the seventh day of Ramadan, however, which means even more napping and less activity during the day--everyone is hungry, thirsty, and tired, and few businesses will even open before 9 p.m. 

Ramadan is a holy, month-long time of fasting in Islam--something very culturally and spiritually significant to many. I observed Ramadan for the first time when I was 9, and it has become something I greatly value and enjoy as part of my Arab heritage. 

The fast begins at the Fajr prayer, which this year is around 4:45 am. Families will rise around 4:00 for the sahoor meal, which traditionally consists of foods like goat cheese, watermelon, eggs, and bread. These foods were meant to provide nutrients necessary for enduring long days in the desert--i.e., salt, water, sugar, protein, etc. After prayers, many will return to bed for a few hours, while others will stay awake in prayer or meditation before starting the day. 

Muslims will abstain from all food, drink, smoking, and sex for the duration of the day, only breaking the fast at the sounding of the maghrib prayer at sunset, which this year is approximately 6:45 pm. Upon hearing the adhan--call to prayer--we will usually break fast with a date and some water. Prayers follow, then the iftar meal. The evening will be spent in visiting relatives or friends, enjoying tea and delicacies, and, for many, late night shopping. The city really leaps to life after the Isha prayers, around 8 pm, and some don't return home until 4 am, in order to have sahoor and begin again. Many other faithfuls will spend the evenings in the mosque, listening to the  Qu'ran read aloud over loudspeakers. 

The city is famous for having a mosque at every street corner, so the booming voices of the imams, chanting the Holy Book, will often be heard above the street noise. It's surreal. 

Participating in Ramadan as a Christian is a unique and deeply meaningful experience for me. I enjoy the challenge and the spiritual reward of the fast, but, more than anything, the chance to be a part of this culture is precious to me. Islam is a beautiful religion, and the sense of unity and devotion I sense in Muslim relatives, friends, and strangers is inspiring and unique. Indeed, I really feel more warmth and sincerity in many Muslims than in much of the "church" I've encountered in the States. Here, the spiritual is interwoven unapologeticly into every aspect of life--TV programs are interrupted by "Ramadan Kareem" messages, people greet each other with "Peace to you, and many mercies from God!", and believers drop everything five times a day to retreat for prayer. 

These are my father's people. 

Random thoughts from the Frankfurt Airport. 11:40 AM Germany time

“I think today will be a funny day.”

The olive skinned man gave an exasperated chuckle as he checked my American passport, complete with the neatly placed visa bookmarked inside. It was a simple procedure, but his frustrated comment was understandable--already, at the gate, there had been a lot of misunderstandings and complications as Bangladeshis, Saudis, Sudanese, Egyptians, and Jordanians clustered around the German-speaking crew, here in the Frankfurt Airport.

It was so strange for me to step off the plane from Budapest--where, even at 7 A.M on my way to the airport I saw  60 year old woman walking her dog in a bikini--and join this hodge-podge group at the Khartoum-Jeddah flight, where the air smelled undeniably of  oud perfume and sweat, reminding me instantly of my Arabian home. What a difference--moments before I passed through security, I was surrounded by pictures of nearly-nude women touting vodka, and now I am one of the few woman not covering my hair. And I haven’t left Germany yet!

But the familiar sounds of Arabic warmed my heart--even if they were angry words towards the blinking German staff during a visa mix-up. As I type this, a tiny olive-skinned little girl is playing peek-a-boo with me, and her eyes went wide when I addressed her in Arabic.

I’m on my way to a new mission field--the Middle East, and more specifically, the land of Mecca, the holiest site in all of Islam (which I visited, albeit illegally, last year). I’ll be touching down in Jeddah just as the whole country is shifting in to Ramadan-mode, which is a holy month of fasting that began just a few days ago. I can’t wait. My dad, who is a practicing Sunni Muslim, requires us all to join him in the traditional observance of Ramadan, which means rising before dawn for the sahoor meal, abstaining from all food and drink until sundown, and then the partaking of iftar after the maghrib prayer. I’ll write more about Ramadan later--but I’m so excited to return to this culture that I love so, so much.

Time to switch gears...let’s go! 

"There's nothing like two pickled fish at the end of a long day..."

Well, it's almost time for me to leave Europe and head to Saudi. It's been a crazy three weeks here, and I've loved and experienced so much. I literally have been on the move non-stop, so I'm sorry for my lack of updates/responses. 

Really quick--thank you all for your comments regarding my post about being "forgotten"--you are all really far, far too wonderful for me. Thank you for your encouragement and prayers. I know you won't truly forget me--my point was simply that life goes on, and it's always jarring to watch things change. Know I keep all of you in the front of my mind and prayers as well. :) 

A few random memories to share from my time here in Eastern Europe, a culture far different from where I came from and where I'm going.  :) 

--Since I've come here, I've had tripe (cow stomach stew), beefsteak tartar (raw ground beef), pickled fish, liver, cottage cheese and chocolate, spinach pancakes, crepe-cake, "greasy bread" (slabs of fresh bread smeared with pig fat and topped with onions, paprika, and pickles), and countless drinks I don't even want to list...

           ...and to finish off several weeks of strange foods, Eva fed me strudel stuffed with CABBAGE this evening. *twitches*...it wasn't TOO bad. (Just pile on lots of sugar, it helps). 

--I got hit on by a very strange Serbian man on the rooftop of the Esztergom Basilica--it is a round dome, and so I just kept scooting around to get away from him...It was very uncomfortable. Things were made worse when he turned u

p two more times at different locations. VERY STRANGE....

--If I ever decide to move to Hungary, I have a husband lined up--a 14 year old boy named Peter, who spend almost 4 days straight with me and Julianna last week.  He's a friend of her family, and it was supposed to be an afternoon--then he kept finding ways to stick with us longer. He speaks no English, but mostly follows me around with a goofy look on his face--apparently he needs a new crush, now that Julianna is married. :-P He told Juls that he'd like to marry me. I replied that it'd be too hard to learn Hungarian...

--As with most of Europe, "bubbly" water is very common here--and I've decided I LOVE it. 

--Dancing with lots of harmless drunk people is more fun than it sounds. (I was sober, I promise.) 

It's been a refreshing, busy, surprising three weeks. Not a day went by that we didn't go on some adventure, whether to a renaissance castle, a pub for some 'peasant-style' cuisine, to a cathedral overlooking the Danube, to a city-wide festival, to the biggest mall in Central Europe, to neighboring countries of Austria or Slovakia, to art museums, to a Terror House restored from the Hungarian Communist era, to wineries, and...well you get the picture. I've been blessed with many new memories and new friends. :) 

So, it is 2 a.m. here, and i am semi-finished packing. It's bittersweet. I miss my family and I always LOVE to go to Saudi, but I've had a blast here, learned a lot, and I will dearly miss the whole family. I'm looking forward to seeing them all in Saudi over Christmas though. 

Time to march on...to the desert, now. 

"I swear, it's like you have a personal channel with God." 

I heard this from one of my best friends, while driving through Budapest yesterday afternoon. It came out of nowhere, as we were talking about life and her experiences as a young married college student. I'm not sure what I said or did to spur that remark...but I paused for a second and sent a silent praise to God. It was a humbling but encouraging moment--I love this friend deeply, and before and during my stay here, I've been praying passionately that God would find SOME way around my weaknesses and faults to shine through me onto this young woman. 

It's already been happening--conversations we've had, opportunities for me to encourage her. It's all the Holy Spirit, because I myself am far too much of a wretch to make any difference on my own strength. But I find comfort in knowing that God's heart for her is far more passionate than mine, and he's pursuing her and won't be blocked by my shortcomings. 

I answered her, after a pause, "Well...I don't pretend to be anyone special, but I would have to agree with you. I DO know God, and I'm so, so thankful that I do. He really is my best friend, and I do know he's with me and I've heard from him. But it's not me--anyone can know God like this." 

"I don't know. I think anyone can try, but not everyone succeeds," she replied. 

Ouch. God's heart, and mine, broke at these words. 

I spoke softly, then, but firmly--I told her that God is found by every sincere heart, and that the crosses that were seen on the countless chapels and cathedrals in Budapest point the way for us. I told her of the hours and hours of pacing and weeping in the sanctuary or in my bedroom, of the months of rebellion and of the sweet moments of worship--these are the baby steps of a very flawed human heart toward the throne of the Living God. 

It's been months and years of praying through Scripture, of honest doubt, of faith and fear and patience and repentance that have brought me this near to the face of God. 

And I have so long to go. 

But this is real, and raw, and for EVERYONE, i tried to tell her. God leads us so tenderly and tangibly, if only we ask. 

Has your heart ever bled for another? 

They're forgetting me. 

                            They're already forgetting me. 

This knowledge cut me like a knife, although there is not a single part of me that is surprised or angry. 

I finally got a few minutes to browse through Facebook today, and with each status, album, update, and profile, I grew more and more aware that life back home is already moving ahead at lightning pace--without me. 

Oh, it hurt. Hurts. 

People I poured myself into. People who have pieces of me. People who I have continued to pray for and remember because my love for them is only strengthened by this distance. 

Ah, spreading your heart around is dangerous, messy business. 

And then God came down and told me--this is how it is. 

You love with all your strength and give your everything to the place you are. Wherever it is, you must BE there and give, give, give. 

And eventually, God will pick you up and carry you off, and then you do it again. 

I instinctively recoil at the thought. Of never putting down roots in anything but God. It's in my nature to want to build security and some kind of stability. 

But no. "Little girl," He said, "I've got you. But you have to let everything else go--grasp me with both hands." 

I drew my knees to my face and cried, long and deep. All I could say was, "okay...okay." I shook my head as God whispered that there would be many goodbyes, many misunderstandings, many long-distance loves, and not much advanced notice. He was talking about the rest of my life, by the way. 

I'm in God's arms, now, and my feet don't touch the ground. 

Riding Trains with Solomon

Julianna and I visited Vienna this week, and to get there we caught an early train from Budapest. We awoke before dawn to get downtown in time to catch the train, so we were both pretty tired by the time we left the station. We settled back in our seats quietly--Julianna fell asleep promptly, but I didn't feel like napping. Instead, I took out my ipod and played one of my favorite tracks--a recording of the book of Ecclesiastes. 

Most Christians I know fear and misunderstand this book--not many people like to read it, because they say it's depressing. 

I disagree--I think it's priceless. 

My words have run dry for tonight, but I think it's better this way--maybe you'll go read it for yourself. If I could, I would try to tell you the comfort and relief I find in the blunt reminders of the Teacher--that the very things we chase after amount to nothing more than meaningless wind. The solemn reminder of my certain death and the clarity that should bring--these are the gifts of this book. 

I will die, I will leave behind whatever vanity I accrued--possessions, popularity, etc--, and I will be forgotten. 

I can't change this fact--and the wisdom within this is priceless. 

Life is so incredibly simple, really. 

And as I watched the sun creep higher above the rolling Hungarian landscape, I felt eternity. 

There is such great power in being UNASHAMED of the gospel. 

Not in a Bible-thumping, cross-wearing, hallelujah-shouting way. 

But in an authentic, head-to-toe, clear-eyed, often-unspoken way that exhales out of your spirit as you live and move. 

It's an inside, all-around, unprecedented way of life, something no one can dictate or predict. 

But when you listen so very, very carefully for that delicate spirit-breeze and let your steps follow after, bit by bit...

Your life becomes a miracle. 

Nothing is sexier than a chick who speaks English :-P

Julianna, Aaron and I were sitting at an outdoor pub chatting and splitting a gyro plate and drinks. It was around 11 p.m. and we were talking, laughing, and just having a good time. At the table behind us sat two younger guys, smoking, looking fairly drunk, and eyeballing us. I didn't really think much of it. 

Some spontaneous fireworks started going off, and Julianna and I ran out to see them. When we came back, we found Aaron in a rather impassioned discussion with one of the guys from the other table. As soon as he saw Julianna, he waved her over, and the conversation switched to Hungarian. I just hung back, but Aaron kept giving me amused looks. 

Apparently the conversation went like this: 

Guy:  "I would like to get to know your friend. I am learning English and I'd like to practice it with her. Does she have a boyfriend?" 

Aaron: "Sorry but I don't think so." 

(Enter Julianna) 

Guy: "I want to get to know your friend. Where is she from? How long is she here" 

Julianna: "Sorry, we're leaving tomorrow morning" (not true) 

Guy: "Oh this sucks. Does she have a boyfriend? A number?" 

Julianna: "Sorry, but you're not going to get to talk to her." 

Guy: "Oh this sucks. Are you sure? I just want to talk to her." 

Julianna: "Sorry, but I am like her big sister and I'm not going to let you talk to her." 

Guy: "oh this sucks...this is really crap." 

I'm glad I didn't know what was going on...but the sad thing is, he probably really was attracted to my English language skills as much as anything else. It's a hot commodity here--even this morning, Julianna received a telemarketing call pushing English language courses. Not something I give much thought to in the States, and when I'm abroad, all I can think about is how much I wish I spoke something other than English. 

Do you know the thrill of discovering God's presence afresh in a strange place? 

There is a kind of intimacy with the Lord that is only found in adventure. In unfamiliarity. In transition. 

The constancy and faithfulness of God must be tested to be known. 

Let's just say, there are many ways that an innocent night out in Budapest can go terribly wrong. 

Update: Life in Boloton

Back in Budapest after two and a half days at Balaton, “the largest lake in Central Europe”. It was beaaautiful. I had a great time. The first night we arrived, had a delicious dinner of tomato salad and some egg stuff, which I can’t recall the name of. : )

Went “out on the town” for the night, which translated mostly to wandering in and out of the shops and pubs near the lake. Made for quite a merry evening in the end. :)

The second day we set off to visit the Festetics Palace in Keszthely, which was gorgeous--especially the library. It was spectacular--right out of “Beauty and the Beast”. Lots of artwork and history--quite glamorous. There was also a tour of the famous wine cellar, and yes, wine tasting. I was instructed how to hold the glass (i was doing it wrong!!!), sniff, ‘swish’, etc. Definitely a cultural experience in and of itself.

Lunch nearby, then we made it to Haviz, a “medicinal lake” which was filled with lily pads and other floating matter--it smelled funny and kind of freaked us all out a few minutes after we got in. We emerged soon afterwards, and as we sat on the bank we saw a snake swim by--yikes!

After the “medicinal bath” that left us all feeling somewhat slimey, we cleaned up and drove back to the lakehouse. After a dinner of bacon, onions, and tomato salad, we played cards, had brandied cantaloupe (only good for the first bite or two) and eventually went “skinny dipping”--in this case, wading into the chilly waters of the Boloton in our swimsuits. The view was breathtaking, especially as a storm rolled in over the mountains. Once the thunder and lightening began to get really close, we chickened out and ran ashore.

Today we took a ferry across the Boloton to Tihany, an island/peninsula full of old houses, quaint pubs, and tourist traps. We visited a gorgeous old monastery atop the mountain, strolled along the edge and took in the beautiful view, and had ice cream overlooking the lake. Oh, yes, and I had my first Hungarian goulash for lunch. Quite good, I assure you.

We made it home safe and sound, and had another cultural experience--cottage cheese noodles and Spaceballs. Haha, I hadn’t seen it, and the family wouldn’t have that. So there I sat, meters away from a historic church, in a house that had been passed down for generations, watching John Candy run around as "Mog". It was interesting. X-P

I love Hungary. Really. I love the history and the beauty at every corner--such a lovely break from the wasteland of suburbia I am so used to. :) 

Church in Budapest

Went to a Scottish Presbyterian church today in downtown Budapest. It'd been a while since I'd been to something so formal--my church in the States is an Assemblies of God, and much more flashy, big, and "hip". This was simpler, more timeless--songs out of hymnals, recited prayer, and a very formulaic routine. 

None of these are negative observations. Just different. I was really excited to go--as I continue to walk in Christ, I grow more and more curious about the ways that other people practice their spirituality, both Christian and non-Christian. As I told Julianna, it is really important for me to always be surrounded by people different than me--it keeps me challenged and causes me to constantly re-evaluate what I believe and why I do what I do. 

My favorite part of the service was at the end. Before the service began, a man carried in a large, leather bound Bible and placed it on a high, slender table. At the end of the service, we closed with a short hymn and prayer, then we repeated "Amen, amen, amen." The Bible was carried out again, ahead of the Reverend, as the congregation repeated "Amen" to a simple piano melody. 

I almost teared up, it was so strange. But I really loved the heart behind it--the Word had come to us, had spoken to us, and we stood proclaiming Amen, or "Let it be so." 

Something mysterious and beautiful about that, don't you think?   

At least, if it was a heartfelt refrain...for me it was. 

....Champagne with lunch, beer with dinner, brandy with breakfast...where's the water in this country??? haha.

August 7th, 2009--10 PM Budapest time

Just got home from my first day in Budapest. Got in around 11 AM. Picked up by Aaron and Julianna--so good to see them! They drove me to Julianna's place, a beautiful old home with several sitting rooms, a garden, a gate, etc. Pics soon. 

Showered, fed with potatoes, squash, etc. Took a nap. Soon after waking up we went out for fried fish and chips next to the Danube. Had a lovely time and followed up the food with cotton candy. Mmmm. 

Decided against going into downtown because we were all tired...but it was a lovely introduction to my new home for the next 3 weeks! 

August 7, 2009, 7:30 AM Frankfurt Time

Currently waiting around in the Frankfurt airport for my connecting flight to Budapest. The flight from Chicago was pretty rough. I didn’t sleep a wink...that puts me at 3 hours of sleep for the last 48 hours. Hm. This probably won’t end well. :-P

I was fortunate enough to have two very dear friends, Beth and Lisa, drive me to O’Hare. It was a very surreal experience. We joked around at first, but at our core we knew that this was some heavy business we were in--all of us. One of my friends just returned from Israel/Palestine and is seriously rethinking her life plans. My other friend is gaining an ever heavier burden for God’s work overseas, and is just waiting for direction. All three of us have come to understand that sooner or later we all ‘must go’--even to the ends of the earth.

I kept it together pretty well at the airport. In fact, I’m sitting here in Germany and I still don’t think I’ve realized that I won’t set foot on American soil for at least six months. Crazy.

But it’s beautiful. We discussed in the car the very real adventure we all are beginning. Living for God is ‘the coolest’ as Beth said. Really. What might ordinarily look like a bunch of reckless young adults is, in fact, a trio of intrepid messengers of hope--young people determined to make an eternal difference, to give away their lives for things bigger than themselves.

This is all only by God’s grace--our desires and abilities to serve are entirely dependent on his work in our hearts and our humble willingness to submit and sacrifice. But when one does this--releases one’s life completely into God’s hands--the result is a role in the Greatest Story Ever Told. We’re working to tell that story wherever and however he directs us. And it’s  true adventure--a trustworthy and rewarding one.

And a fairytale, I think...

But that’s a thought for another day.

The lady sitting near me has been babbling to herself in German for 15 minutes now. Yikes.

Time to get an espresso. Without any kind of alarm clock i don’t dare go to sleep in the terminal.

I’ll be with JS in just a few hours!! 

12 hours and counting....

Today is my last day in the USA for at least 6 months. 

It's truly surreal. 

I walked into the sanctuary today, knowing i had an impossible amount of work to do, but also aware of the fact that I'd be lost if I didn't spend a few minutes centering myself again on God. 

He met me right away and spoke some very powerful things. I will keep most of it to myself but I am so thankful that he directed me to Psalms 91. Beautiful, and so personal this time. I bawled. 

Said goodbye to some of my very precious friends today. My small group girls are the hardest to part with. So beautiful--and fragile too, even if they don't know it. We all are. And although I know it's not my job to stand vigil over them, I can't help but be so protective. I'll certainly be praying my guts out for them while I'm gone. God has so much for them--I love them so dearly. 

Well, I am home now and currently fairly emotionally stable. Starting fade physically though, but i have MUCH to do before I sleep. I should go work on that. 

-Sarah

The Plan

It’s not enough.

It’s not enough for me to simply exist, to satisfy myself, to reserve the right to only give as much as is comfortable or desirable for me. 

This is what I’ve begun to realize in the past few months. There is more we’re meant to live for—a love we’re meant to carry inside us, a love that works it’s way to the outside in an irresistible, ever greater way. 

Although I want to call myself a follower of Christ, someone who claims to believe and obey his Word, I can’t deceive myself into thinking that I understand or practice “the attitude of Christ” (Phil. 2:5) or that I truly seek to “lay down my life for others.” (1 John 3:16) 

At least, not yet. 

It’s something I’ve been desiring and contemplating for the last year, something that’s slowly awakened inside me and grown, at last, into courage and action. See, I’ve discovered the secret—well, something hidden in plain sight—that something dies inside our hearts whenevre we choose to put ourselves first. 

I’m just not satisfied being satisfied. It’s only by giving that I truly come alive. And not giving out of obligation or in measured, ‘affordable‘ ways--no, I must give in a way that costs me something, and from a heart of love.

I wish I could tell you the ways I’ve been shocked, awakened, and delighted as I’ve slowly grasped this truth. Hesitantly and sometimes resentfully, I’ve begun to press outside myself and hand off my time, my attention, and my resources to those around who have need.

And this is what it takes to find meaning in life, and to slowly transform a meaningless, un-precious existence to one that faintly reflects eternity. 

I feel unworthy to write these things, because I am still so, so far from the Great Ideal--but yet, I know I’m facing the right direction at last, and it truly is my heart and prayer that I might learn to truly lay myself aside and pour out a Love That Changes Things. 

..................................................................


And so, this brings me to my plans for next year. After graduating from ‘highschool’ (well, RVC) this spring, I had every reason to be excited, confident, and comfortable. I have an amazing family, a life full of blessings, a group of amazing friends and a fantastic life group (LEAGUE!). I had worked incredibly hard and had ‘won’ a spot at my dream school, the University of Pennsylvania--an Ivy, nonetheless--and everything I had ever wanted was within my reach. 

But God had a few things up his sleeve.

Tip--when you TRULY invite God in, and ask for his heart to become your heart, he’ll always answer. And completely mess. you. up. :) 

You see, as he’s been gently awakening me to his breathtaking love, he’s also been humbling me through his Word and his Divine Standard. That is, after receiving such amazing grace, the only possible response is to bring the overflow of his Great Gift to the world in every step we take. Every word and thought and action ought to be simply dripping with the abundance and generosity we ourselves have received from Christ. And we are to spend our lives giving away our everything.

I am nowhere near such total surrender and sacrifice. And that is no longer okay with me. If I want my life to mean something--if I want to fulfill the simple but astounding calling God has placed before me--I need to drop everything and pursue Him, allowing him to show me how to embrace his most ‘lowly’ and ‘unloveable’ in this world that is brimming with unmet needs.

And in order to do that, I need to make a leap of faith--I need to forsake every blessing, every privilege, every comfort that abounds here in the USA. Although I’ve been serving in Cross Current Student Ministries and in small ways in my family, the time has come for me to ‘walk the talk’...to release myself completely, recklessly, into God’s hands and his call to servanthood. 

Through a twisted series of events that only God could have orchestrated, I have been connected with Christ the Rock Church in Wisconsin...and they are sending me with a small team to live, work, and love in a refugee camp in Algeria, North Africa.

I will be leaving the US August 6 and returning January 16, 2010. In Algeria, 

I will have the incredible honor of working in their school as a teacher, living and serving among the beautiful Saharawi people in the Sahara Desert. 

Truth be told, I am still caught off guard by the way God derailed my plans for this year. But the only place I want to be is in His will, and by committing to this leap of faith I’ve found a great peace and joy. 

I will keep running in this direction until I come to the end of myself--where it really begins.

“The only thing that matters is faith expressing itself through love.” - Galatians 5:6 

“The Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.” Matt 20:28

“Our vocation is the love of Jesus.” Mother Theresa