on your sixth birthday

For Piper

On your sixth birthday

Piper Chen, you are my joy. You cause me to delight in life more than I ever thought possible. I love your smile. I love your imaginative and inquisitive mind. I love your questions and your songs. I love your hugs and kisses. I love your witty comments and that you can always make me laugh. I love the way you make me slow down and enjoy the little things. I love thinking about your future. I love living life with you every day and I consider it a privilege to walk alongside you as you become the woman God has created you to be. I love November 29th because I love celebrating you.

Yet, there is something that brings tears to my eyes on this day.

November 29, 2005. On this morning, six years ago, your biological mother knew she could not keep you. There are so many details that I wish I knew about her and the decision she made to give you a different life, but I don’t. And so I choose to love her by bearing, believing, and hoping all things. I love your mother for valuing your life enough to endure nine months of pregnancy, knowing full well she would not be able to care for you afterward. I love her for caring enough about your life to place you on that sidewalk in the bustling town of Chenzhou where you would be found quickly and brought to an orphanage. I love her for loving you by giving you the best that she could.

And I mourn for her. Piper, I mourn because she missed out on you. Somewhere in China, your mama remembers you. What I wouldn’t give to meet her. And thank her. And reassure her that her daughter is happy and safe and loved. But I will settle for thanking God for orchestrating the events of her life, your life, and my life. The Lord is good in making you a Waldemar. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Piper, as you grow up and wonder if you have your mom’s eyes, or your dad’s imagination; as you ask questions about your life in China; as you ponder what it was to be without a family for your first year, I pray that you will see yourself first as a daughter of King Jesus. A daughter that was never lost, never orphaned, never alone. I pray that you will be characterized by your Father’s imagination and creativity, by your Father’s love and joy. I already see these things in you and long to see them grow and develop as you live out the beautiful story of redemption that God has written for your life.

Happy birthday, baby girl! I’m gonna keep you forever.

All my love,

Whitney

One Year Later

Has it really been a year?

I remember this day last year with such crisp clarity. I finished writing a paper. I finished some last minute packing. I shed a few tears as I said goodbye to my family. I climbed into the van with the team and embarked on the journey of a lifetime. This much, I understood. I knew that I would return a changed person. But I had no idea how much those days in South Africa would change my life forever.

The past few weeks, my mind has been racing, remembering. My senses have been stimulated, far more often than I would like. Sights, sounds, smells - they all take me back to some place in Cape Town and I relive the memory with vivid precision.

I'm fighting to remember the good, which is why I decided to publish the post that I wrote right after I returned, but kept in draft format until now.

There is so much hurt and pain in my heart associated with this time of the year. I spent October 2010 in Cape Town, South Africa. I expected this to be the best time of my life. I was serving at a ecumenical missions conference. I went with the most wonderful team of people. What could be better, right?

In a twisted way, I'm compelled to say that this was the time of my life. By that, I mean that because of this trip and everything that happened, every pain I felt, every hardship I endured, Jesus became sweeter and sweeter. I wouldn't trade that for the world.

Yet, it was unbearably painful. Everything was unknown. I was alone. Congress participants were rude. I felt the weight of tension within the team. My body was in intense pain much of the time. The Lord did a crushing work in my heart through a certain event, but for the sake of discretion, I cannot share that here. Just know that I was broken last October. Broken in a way I never would or could have expected.

I was afraid. Afraid of being hurt. Afraid of being abandoned. Afraid of being worthless.

Every sight, sound, and smell brings back those feelings. They wash over me like pounding waves. My mind races. My heartbeat quickens. My breathing is stilted. I am paralyzed in the moment. I let the pain return. And I fight to cling to Jesus.

The Lord is doing a very healing work in my life. Yet the healing involves reopening and scrubbing out the wound, at times with a wire brush and other times with a gentle cotton swab. I want to be healed, to be cleansed. But more than anything, I want my heart to be soft. I don't want to be numb to pain (or joy). I don't want to be angry and bitter. I want to love Jesus and see his purposes (and vehicles for bringing about those purposes) as perfect.

There is a lot of pain in my heart associated with this day, but I can look back on it with a grateful heart. In South Africa, and since I've returned, my mantra has been a portion of Brooke Fraser's Faithful:

There's distance in the air and I cannot make it leave

I wave my arms round about me and blow with all my might

I cannot sense you close, though I know you're always here

But the comfort of you near is what I long for

When I can't feel you, I have learned to reach our just the same

When I can't hear you, I know you still hear every word I pray

And I want you more than I want to live another day

And as I wait for you maybe I'm made more faithful

That's how I've felt, in large measure, since last October. Yet the Lord has removed the distance. I can sense him close. I feel the comfort of his presence. And I have been made more faithful. I sobbed. I begged. I pleaded. The Lord honored that prayer. He has not wasted my suffering. I still don't understand it all, but I can trust him because he is worthy. Over and over again he has proved himself faithful.

He is always faithful. Can we just revel for a minute, please?

I don't much like October 9. I wish it didn't have these memories associated with it. I wish I could enjoy autumn in Minneapolis and not return to feelings of fear, anxiety, pain, and hurt. But God is redeeming it. He is pouring out his kindness all over my life. Today, I can say, "This is the day that the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it."

Remembering the Kindness of the Lord

(I wrote this post shortly after returning from Cape Town, but never published it. I decided to today because I need to remember positive things about the trip. I need to remind myself how kind the Lord was in giving me a beautiful example of love in my South African friends.)

-November 2010-

My mind has been a tad scrambled lately. So much happened in those 19 days that has changed my life.

So, where to begin? Well, South Africa, I suppose. What a beautiful place! Seriously, I have been enchanted by the city of Cape Town and the wonderful South African friends I met there.

Although we went as a Bethlehem team, we didn't spend much time together during the day. I spent most of my day working alongside stewards for all over the world. When I first thought about the other stewards, I assumed I wouldn't spend much time with them and that they would not be a major part of my experience. How wrong I was... the people I served with became the richest part of the congress for me.

This may sound shallow in light of the weight of the congress, but hear me out. I didn't experience much of the actual congress because I was either serving during the plenary sessions, or I was so exhausted by the time my shift ended that I collapsed in the steward lounge. If I had experienced more of the sessions or interacted more with the participants, I'm sure that would have been my highlight:) But, since that was not the case, I got to know the other stewards quite well. I spent hours and hours serving beside them, exploring Cape Town with them, and staying at the fabulously sketch Train Lodge with them. The way that I was loved, especially by the South African stewards, was incredible. They were so intentional in getting to know me and making conversation was never awkward in the least. I was loved. I didn't have to prove anything or be lovable. I was a member of the body of Christ and I was loved. I have so much to learn from these beautiful people.

PTSD

The Lord chooses to reveal a little at a time.

This last revelation was a little mind-blowing.

I have PTSD.

Now, I'm not quick to self-diagnose. In fact, I'm leery of naming any disease, disorder, or odd happenstance without a professional opinion. I don't trust my own perceptions or knowledge base enough for that. All this to say, I have not been officially diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

The other day, I was talking with a friend and asking her what PTSD looks like in her own life. She began explaining it and listed off characteristics that manifest themselves physically, emotionally, socially, etc. Nearly everything she mentioned were conditions I had previously identified in myself, not realizing how they all fit together.

PTSD is a type of anxiety disorder that lingers longer than one month. It is triggered by an overwhelming life experience which seems chaotic. Unpredictable. Uncontrollable. Capricious. Unstable. Ungovernable.

Yep, mhmm.

The symptoms have been organized into three main categories

1. Re-experiencing the traumatic event

• Intrusive, upsetting memories of the event
• Flashbacks
• Nightmares
• Feelings of intense distress when reminded of the trauma
• Intense physical reactions to reminders of the event (pounding heart, rapid breathing, nausea, muscle tension, sweating)

2. Avoidance and numbing

• Avoiding activities, places, thoughts, or feelings that remind you of the trauma
• Inability to remember important aspects of the trauma
• Loss of interest in activities and life in general
• Feeling detached from others and emotionally numb
• Sense of a limited future

3. Increased anxiety and emotional arousal

• Difficulty falling or staying asleep
• Irritability or outbursts of anger
• Difficulty concentrating
• Hypervigilance
• Feeling jumpy and easily startled

And a few others:

• Anger and irritability
• Feelings of mistrust and betrayal
• Feeling alienated and alone
• Depression and hopelessness

Yep, mhmm. I've experienced all of these. Granted, in various measure, but nonetheless, I've experienced them. Often, wondering if I was crazy. Like, legitimately crazy. None of it made sense or seemed to fit together. I felt like I should be over it, like I should've been able to kick this by now.

Grace upon grace. The Lord unfogged the window just a little more to give me a clearer glimpse into my heart.

Isolation & Transparency

Isolation. Simultaneously what I crave and what I fear most.

I want to be alone: life is overwhelming me and I don't have the energy to explain my issues to anyone.

I don't want to be alone: the burden is too much for me to handle. I can't bear it alone.

I crave isolation: I no longer have the energy to put on a happy face for everyone.

I fear isolation: my problems don't go away, I just become bitter.

Can I be straight with you? I'm really scared.

Picture this: You're sanding at the edge of a gorge. To your left is the drop-off. Darkness. You glimpse over the edge and jump back because the danger is tangible. To your right is a meadow filled with flowers, occupied by a group of friends who are laughing and altogether enjoying life. Yet, between where you stand and the perceived bliss lies a dark forest filled with traps and lurking creepy things. You venture in because the reality on the other side is so worth it. And so you fight; machete-chop branches, kick through the tall grass, swat the bugs away from your head, and try with all your might to avoid all the pitfalls. And then you hit it. That one thing that causes you to completely forget what lies just beyond the forest. You forget and you run back to that cliff as if it were the pearly gates of heaven.

You run because nothing can be as horrific as that forest. Fighting through the persistent trials - alone. It's too much for one person to handle. Meanwhile, you start to begrudge the bliss on the other side. You become cynical. You believe that they have not a care in the world. No one has problems as significant as your own. Resentment. Irritation. Discontentment. Bitterness. It's ugly. That field is no longer appealing in any way. The best thing you can think of is utter oblivion. And so you run.

Tie-in: I trod this back-and-forth journey about a million times last year. I caught a glimpse of how ugly that oblivion was and I turned around with new resolve and fought like hell not to let sin have it's way with me. With each step and every trial, truths are exchanged for lies. Bitterness doesn't seem like such a bad alternative. And it would send me staggering toward that oblivion with wild abandon.

This summer hasn't presented much hardship, and for that I thank God with my whole being. Yet, I have wasted this precious time. Rather than spending the free time I had in the Word and being changed and conformed into the image of Jesus, I filled my hours with various good and mediocre things. I feel weak. I feel defenseless. I feel utterly unprepared to fight. And I know that the bitterness, resentment, discontent, irritation, frustration, anger, and apathy will not disappear. And I'm scared.

Now, I've forgotten the most important detail in the gorge/forest/wildflower bliss sketch. Jesus. Did he ever stop loving me? Did he ever forget about me or stop caring? Was living in light of the gospel ever not worth it? Was it ever acceptable for me to stop fighting because it was hard? Absolutely not. But this is when I began to believe the lies and I didn't care.

But God. He looked upon my helpless state and led me back to the cross.

Before I could jump off that cliff, he would catch me and firmly plant me in himself. At that time, there was no place I would rather be. I dissolved into a puddle of tears and worshipped.

How do you explain this to someone? All last year I felt so handicapped that I couldn't think, let alone try to help anyone else understand or invite them into my pain. //Sidenote: thank you, Jesus, for my mama, who would sit and listen to me, comfort me, and spoon-feed me truth when I couldn't feed myself.// But here's the thing: moms love you no matter what. I was terrified of telling others because I felt like they wouldn't understand. That I would freak them out. That they would see the ugliness in my heart and not know what to do with me. And I definitely couldn't handle that. Guess what? More lies. As I began to tell a few friends and give a few more details, I was awestruck by the grace that was channeled through them. I won't say that I realized this once it was too late, but I wish I had realized sooner.

Right now, I'm scared. I know that all of the realities of last year will be ever present and I don't want to feel that way again. I don't want to believe the lies. I will be surrounded by a beautiful community and I don't want to stiff-arm them again. I want to be real. I want to suffer well and I want to tenaciously cling to Jesus. Oh for grace to trust him more!

-------

1. Don't forget about Jesus. He loves you. He is for you. He is worthy of your life.

2. Please pray for me. I am weak, but in my weakness Christ's power is perfected. Pray that I would be weak, transparent, and moldable clay in the Father's gentle hands.

3. I want for you to experience something like this. Am I allowed to say that? But for real. Jesus works through trials to showcase his beauty. I want you to see him as the most beautiful, delightful, precious thing in the world. I want that beauty to dwarf the appeal of sin.

4. Isolation: why do we do it? I can't answer that, but I can beg you not to go there. Be transparent with the people around you and let them show you more of Jesus.

Imma let you in on a little secret...

God does not leave me to my own devices.

God pursues and woos me. He breathes life into my very being.

God sees Jesus when he looks at me.

God know me intimately. I belong to him.

God is for me. He desires my good. No plan of his may be thwarted.

God is not simply walking with me, he is enabling every heartbeat, every footstep.

God is the LORD. The Holy One of Israel. My Savior.

God is.

"Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you, For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior." Isaiah 43:1-2

Read that again. Let it soak in. Revel.

Love God. He is so worthy of your affections.

roadtrip: thoughts

one: I thought I would be bored out of my mind after a few hours driving solo. So not the case. I think I could've driven for days, not interacted with another human being, and been perfectly content.

two: There is something about wildflowers that makes me want to get my hippie on.

three: There is something about big sky and the smell of cow poop that makes me want to marry a cowboy and live on a ranch. In Texas.

four: I now have an awesome tan on my left arm.

five: I am now incapable of driving without thinking about and fighting for the 'inside track'. You did this to me, Brad Kresge!

six: I love country music, but is there anything worse than patriotic country songs? Ish.

seven: the only social interaction on the road: exchanging looks of mutual disgust. The other driver because my driving is messing up his or her groove; me because he or she is a jerk driver (probably Iowan).

eight: Car-dancing, with no one around to witness my sweet moves, is a real pity.

nine: clouds on the horizon always stir up my creativity. I imagine beautiful, South-African mountains them. Even while driving through Iowa.

ten: freshly-cut wheat, tasseled corn, layered clouds, farm houses, the horizon in every direction - from these I gain inspiration. I must put myself in country settings such as these more often, it's good for my soul.

roadtrip: drivers

Somewhere in the middle of Iowa, I decided to go all 'Stuff Christians Like' and compile a list of the the kind of drivers you encounter on long stretches of highway.

1. business people: they are usually sharply-dressed, incredibly aggressive, and have a superiority complex - and they have it bad! Similar, I suppose, to those who ride in first class (according to Brian Regan).

2. college girls: they are all on their phones and tend to drive like idiots. Hey, it is what it is.

3. college guys: generally laid-back and/or distracted and have fast food trash in the rear window.

4. truck drivers: I believe I have sufficiently expressed my feelings concerning this particular breed.

5. moms: most often frazzled and hurrying somewhere, and are personally offended by your poor driving. personal speculation: they are over-worked, under-appreciated, and your driving (while her children are complaining in the back seat) is the last straw.

6. the elderly: no matter how poorly they drive, you simply cannot be upset with them.

7. the jerks who speed up and tail you while you're trying to pass a semi: these come in all shapes and sizes and they're all punks.

8. and then there's me: windows open, country music blasting, soaking up inspiration from the cornfields and open air, and madly scribbling thoughts before they float away.

Did I miss any?

roadtrip: truck drivers

I hold serious grudges against the semis that pass me on the road. I feel all unsettled inside until I have regained my appropriate position somewhere ahead of it on the highway. While I was driving home from Nebraska on Wednesday, there was one bully of a semi who passed me and triggered this thought:

Truck drivers are always being passed on the road and they know full well that no one likes them. They have major self-esteem issues, I'm sure. Every once in a while, you find a driver who can take this passive aggression no longer and asserts himself with the power-play that is passing the puny vehicles all around him.

Do you feel better about yourself now that you've bullied all the weaker vessels? How do you live with yourself, monstrous hunk of metal?

beautiful

And now come, broken, to the cross,

Where Christ embraced all human loss,

And let us bow before the throne

Of God, who gives and takes his own,

And promises - whatever toll

He takes - to satisfy our soul.

Come learn the lesson of the rod:

The treasure that we have in God.

He is not poor nor much enticed

Who loses everything but Christ.

--John Piper, the Misery of Job and the Mercy of God, 36.

G. K. Chesterton

"One sees great things from the valley, only small things from the peak."

Charles Spurgeon

"Jesus is very dear to every child of God, but to the most tried he is the most precious."

The lesson I'm learning and I want to learn better:

It's worth it.

#TGC11 part two: how i'm dealing

More than ever, I realized I was suppressing a lot of fear. Fear of being alone. Unprotected. Unsafe. Abandoned. Fear of experiencing the pain all over again. I thought I had worked through and dealt with all the emotional crap, and to a certain extent, I had. But there was more. The wound had been reopened. I tried to embrace it and let it hit me hard and then apply the salve of the gospel.

Over and over again, I'm reminding myself that God understands what is happening and that I don't need to. That I'm in his grip, and totally safe there. That he cares. That he has a purpose and this time is not wasted. That I can trust him completely because he is worthy to be trusted. That he is all I need. Beautiful, beautiful truths.

Yet, I am not strong enough to remember, much less believe, these truths in my own strength. I must return again and again to the Word and to gospel-saturated music when I am at my weakest. Here are some of my favorite, tried-and-true comfort havens:

2 Corinthians 4:7-10; 16-18

But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies.

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.

The third verse of The Perfect Wisdom of our God:

Oh grant me wisdom from above

To pray for peace and cling to love

And teach me humbly to receive

The sun and rain of your sovereignty

Each strand of sorrow has a place

Within this tapestry of grace

So through the trials I choose to say

"Your perfect will in your perfect way!"

Still, My Soul, Be Still:

Still, my soul, be still

And do not fear

Though winds of change may rage tomorrow

God is at your side

No longer dread

The fires of unexpected sorrow

God, you are my God

And I will trust in you and not be shaken

Lord of peace renew

A steadfast spirit within me

To rest in you alone

Still, my soul, be still

Do not be moved

By lesser lights and fleeting shadows

Hold onto his ways

With shield of faith

Against temptations flaming arrows

Still, my soul, be still

Do not forsake

The truth you learned in the beginning

Wait upon the Lord

And hope will rise

As stars appear when day is dimming

Jesus, Draw Me Ever Nearer:

Jesus, draw me ever nearer

As I labor through the storm

You have called me to this passage

And I'll follow though I'm worn

May this journey bring a blessing

May I rise on wings of faith

At the end of my heart's testing

With your likeness let me wake

Jesus, guide me through the tempest

Keep my spirit stayed and sure

When the midnight meets the morning

Let me love you even more

Let the treasures of the trial

Form within me as I go

At the end of this long passage

Let me leave them at your throne

#TGC11 part one: the events

My mind is still reeling, trying desperately to categorize and make sense of this past week. My emotions are conflicted. I feel anxious. I feel thankful. I feel scared. I feel comforted.

Why? Well, it all began the week before leaving for Chicago and the Gospel Coalition. It hit me all of the sudden - this conference was going to be striking similar to Lausanne.

I started freaking out. With each day, the anxiety mounted until Monday morning as we were boarding the buses, I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. The feel of the early morning was so similar to the early mornings in South Africa. I was terrified that the pain would return.

I cried. My dad prayed for me. I climbed onto the bus. I gritted it out.

After a while, I was able to put the fears behind me and enjoy my friends and the excitement of returning to the wonderful city of Chicago. Honestly, I was able to nearly forget. Until Monday evening when I walked into the main ballroom where the plenary sessions were to be held.

At the first sight of the expansive room and countless empty seats, my heart started racing. I felt sick to my stomach. My eyes grew to three times their normal size, I'm sure. This room looked identical to the plenary hall at Lausanne. This was far worse than I imagined.

For the rest of the week, I was all over the place. At times, I was perfectly fine; happy, content, enjoying the people and the work. Then something would spark a memory, and I was in tears again. Can you say 'exhausting'?

This all culminated in Wednesday night. I walked into the plenary hall again, this time with Julie by my side. [Sidenote: her presence, as well as that of Mama and Papa Kresge, was so comforting - like having my own family there]. I held Julie's hand while we listened to Matt Chandler. My mind was ping-ponging between paying attention, and freaking out because of the memories in the plenary hall. I made it through the session, but knew that I needed to force myself to sit through the Getty concert. I needed to redeem what was lost; heal what was broken. I needed to cry and know that I was being held by my Father and that he would never let go.

And so I did. I sat. I sang. I listened. I sobbed. [Like, out-of-control, can't-catch-your-breath, sobbing]. It was simultaneously the most painful and healing experience of the week. And, can I just say thank goodness for Katie Fischer! She sat with me and spoke truth to me until I regained composure. She gave me exactly what I needed - pure gospel.

The rest of the conference went by quickly, and before I knew it, I was on the bus back to Minneapolis - processing like mad.

__________

This is all background for the next post. If this doesn't make much sense, I understand. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me, either:) The Lord is gracious in giving me more clarity, little by little, but by no means do I have a clear picture of what happened or is happening in my mind and my life. And I'm learning to be ok with that.

Next up, I aim to share how I'm dealing with it. I hope that it will be the encouraging counterpart to this post. And this is only possible because we have a God and a gospel that brings hope to the darkness of our sin, lives, situations, pain, etc. Praise Jesus!

A lesson from Nostalgia

Yesterday, I spent the afternoon re-exploring Lake Elmo. My heart smiles every time I pass over the city limits and see that sign - "Lake Elmo pop. 6368." To be able to spend hours driving through the streets remembering was priceless.

Honestly, I probably looked super sketch. I parked in front of my old houses and imagined the layout, looked at my bedroom window, and relived the memories from each room.

I moved onto the railroad tracks at the end of Kraft Circle. I jumped through the snow bank and up onto the tracks. Lying there, I heard the sound of of the train's whistle in my head, imagining full-grown milkweed. How many summers did Taylor and I collect this milkweed and feed it to our captured caterpillars, soon-to-be monarchs?

From there, I drove to Lion's Park. I drove past the softball fields, remembering all of Huff-n-Puff tournaments my dad played in. I ran over to the playground, spun on the carousel, and flew in the swings. All of it was so familiar and the memories vivid, from the woodchips, to the moss-covered base of the water fountain. As I left the park, I drove past the Lutheran church and heard the bell tower announcing the hour.

Finally, on my way out of my childhood town, I stopped by my old church. I sat on the benches out front, red paint peeling. I relived the countless games of 'bench tag' my friends and I played every Sunday after service, incidentally tripping nearly everyone as they left.

I love this quaint little town. And as I sat on the swing at Lion's Park, it hit me. I had a wonderful childhood, and I treasure each of these precious memories. But I'm not a kid anymore. Trying to figure out tis balance has been tricky - I still live with my family, but my role in the family has changed. I have more responsibility and I'm more independent, but I'm not on my own. I'm thinking through what it looks like for me to serve my family well during this in-between stage. It's a challenge, but I wouldn't trade it for the world. I love this time with all of them!

Growing up has always been a a scary thought, I'm not very fond of the unknown. I guess that yesterday it just hit me - I'm not a kid anymore, and I need to move on. I need to grow up and learn how to be an adult. Being a child in Lake Elmo was a season, and being an adult in Minneapolis is another. And both are so good.

(Ecclesiastes 3:1).

I can hardly contain myself

JULIE KRESGE is coming to Minneapolis this weekend.

I'm thrilled beyond words.

He breaks the power of canceled sin!

[Disclaimer: lately I have been blogging because it helps me to process my life. Much of it is a jumbled mess, so please don't feel compelled to read:) However, if my angst and fight to love Jesus better is mirrored by your own, it is my prayer that these words are aptly spoken].

Jesus is so faithful. Several times this week God has shown me just how big and able he is to overcome and get me through this, well... whatever it is.

Pastor John spoke in chapel last week exhorting us to be killing sin and giving some very practical ways we can do so. I'm still processing and rehashing it. These are some various thoughts from both his message and that I've been turning over in my mind the past few weeks.

"He breaks the power of cancelled sin." --O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing

The decisive power for my conquering sin is Christ canceling sin. The only defeated sin is a forgiven sin. The link is my empowered will. The Holy Spirit empowered will to kill sin.

I don't wait for a miracle - I act the miracle.

"Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for is it God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure." (Philippians 2:12-13)

We work out our salvation with fear and trembling because our acting is God's acting. He is that near, that much indwelling, that much willing. So much so that my willing is his willing.

When the thoughts of anger, bitterness, and self-pity come, I need to fight them. I need to preach the gospel to myself. I need to remember that I have a higher calling than being stuck in sin. I need to recall these commands:

• "Set your minds on things that are above...for you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God." (Colossians 3:2-3)
• "Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things." (Philippians 4:8)
• "Take every thought captive to obey Christ." (2 Corinthians 10:5)

Yet, sometimes, I don't have the strength in myself to fight. I need the help of other believers to remind me that the gospel is good. I need them to fight with me. "And when he saw their faith, he said, 'man, your sins are forgiven you.'" (Luke 5:20)

Everyday, Jesus makes this more and more clear to me. But, it's still a very real fight, from hour to hour. Yet, it is times like these when I'm burdened with weighty matters and difficult experiences that I feel Jesus even closer and more real. If my woundedness is what it takes for my heart to hold so tightly to him, I'll take it. I need to know and live like he is more than enough for me.

[I highly encourage you to listen to the message: http://www.desiringgod.org/blog/posts/i-act-the-miracle. Sin is something we will all war against until the day we die. I promise it is worth your time].

Timely

In class today, Pastor Tom taught about the kingdom of God. That wheat grows alongside tares. That there will be trials. That we groan as our outer selves are wasting away, but our inner selves are being renewed day by day. That it's important to have a theology of suffering so that we think rightly about our trials in the heat of the moment.

Since October, I have been pondering what it means to suffer well. I have a few ideas wiggling around in my head, but I'm far from understanding it as well as I would like.

• I want to continue seeing God as sovereign and good.
• I want to be able to let people in even when I don't think they will understand.
• I want to be ok with not being ok.
• I want to keep in mind that my suffering now is equipping me to love and sympathize with others.
• I want to be sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.
• I don't want to be consumed by the pain.
• I don't want to be so self-focused that I ignore the pain of those around me.
• I don't want people to feel ill-at-ease around me - that saying the wrong thing at the wrong time will set me off.
• I need to remember that it's a fight. Being passive is not an option. Clinging to Jesus is vital.

This evening, I'm encouraged as I listen to "Heaven is the Face" by Steven Curtis Chapman. He wrote this song about his daughter, Maria, after she was killed in a car accident. Two years ago, this accident hit me really hard... I think I relates easily because thought of anything like this happening to my China girl is horrific. This song never fails to bring me to tears. I cry because I feel the pain, but not simply because it's a heartbreaking story. I hear simultaneously acknowledged pain and hope. I hear this daddy's voice trusting Jesus to carry him and reassemble the pieces of his broken heart. I hear a heart clutching and cherishing the gospel.

Luther: Smart Cookie

"This life therefore is not righteousness, but growth in righteousness; not health, but healing; not being, but becoming; not rest, but exercise. We are not yet what we shall be, but we are growing toward it; the process is not yet finished, but it is going on; this is not the end, but it is the road. All does not yet gleam in glory, but all is being purified."

--Martin Luther

Therapy

I find myself in yet another post-Lausanne funk. I understand it a little bit better this time, and for that I'm incredibly thankful. It hasn't taken me by complete surprise, I have a category in my mind to help me deal with it, and I have hope because Jesus brought me out once before and he will do it again.

This time it isn't quite as dramatic... yet. I'm still hot-and-cold; one minute I'm happy as a clam, and the next I'm angry, irritable, and impatient. I can't predict when my mood is going to radically swing from one extreme to the other. I want to cry a lot. Sometimes I just want to scream (and that is so not the Whitney Waldemar I know). And yet, other times, I'm completely emotionless; my mind is blank. It is this bizarre puzzle piece that scares me most; not being able to think or feel emotion is downright frightening.

My therapy for all this junk comes in three forms:

2 Corinthians.

• 1:3-5 "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too."
• 4:8-10 "We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies."
• 4:16-17 "So we do not lose heart. Though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this light and momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison."
• 6:8b-10 "We are treated as impostors, and yet are true; as unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and behold, we live; as punished, and yet not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, yet possessing everything."

My mama. Seriously, I could not ask for a better woman in my life, guiding me, talking with me, and pointing me to Jesus. Talking it out with her always gives me clarity.

Brooke Fraser's album Albertine. This was the music I listened to on repeat in Africa. I fell asleep each night listening to it. I cried listening to it. I got ready in the morning listening to it. When I came home and was trying to figure out who I was and, in all honesty, what the heck happened in Cape Town, I listened to it. I did homework and prepared for exams listening to it. I cried listening to it. And now, I do my homework listening to it. I cry listening to it. The combination of angst and truth is powerful. Here are some of the words with which I have been identifying and in which I find hope:

"If I find in myself desires nothing in this world can satisfy,
I can only conclude that I was not made for here
If the flesh that I fight is at best only light and momentary,
then of course I'll feel nude when to where I'm destined I'm compared"

--C.S. Lewis Song

"There's distance in the air and I cannot make it leave
I wave my arms round about me and blow with all my might
I cannot sense you close, though I know you're always here
But the comfort of you near is what i long for

When I can't feel you, I have learned to reach out just the same
When I can't hear you, I know you still hear everyword I pray
And I want you more than I want to live another day
And as I wait for you maybe I'm made more faithful"

--Faithful

"If to distant lands I scatter
If I sail to farthest seas
Would you find and firm and gather 'til I only dwell in Thee?
If I flee from greenest pastures
Would you leave to look for me?
Forfeit glory to come after
'Til I only dwell in Thee

If my heart has one ambition
If my soul one goal to seek
This my solitary vision 'til I only dwell in Thee
That I only dwell in Thee
'Til I only dwell in Thee"

--Hymn

"Love, where is your fire? I've been sitting here smoking away
Making signals with sticks and odd ends and bits, still there's no sign of a flame
Impostors have been passing, offering a good-feeling glow
But I'm holding out for what you are about - an inferno that burns to the bone
Some urge me to be temperate, lukewarm will never do"

--Love, Where is your Fire

I'm fighting to struggle well. I want to live in a way that is sorrowful, yet always rejoicing. I'm praying for more grace.

Philosophy

I get really excited when I'm reading a book and come across names like Hobbes, Locke, and Hume. Who knew that reading Calvin and Hobbes or watching LOST was laying a foundation for my understanding of philosophy?! Can you say win-win?

Sidenote: I can't wait to rewatch all of LOST after I finish at BCS. It'll make SO much more sense!

I have no excuse...

...for not posting in 11 months.

I only have time for a brief update... homework [always] calls!

Life has been a whirlwind since school started in August, including:

• Craziness of homework
• Wonder of getting to know my new classmates
• Beauty and hardships of Lausanne [the repercussions of which I still deal with daily]
• Heart-wrenching stories of shipwrecked faiths
• Tasting the joy of community, confession, and loving Jesus

I've been fighting hard to live in a way that is sorrowful yet always rejoicing.

My mind is scattered. My heart is broken. My joy is in the Gospel.

I feel really weak lately. In small group today, Dale shared a timely encouragement about boasting in our weaknesses, because against the ugly backdrop of our weakness, Christ in the gospel looks unbelievable beautiful. My tendency, however, is to stay there, reveling in my weakness. I want to whine. But that is not a full picture of the gospel. Jesus looks beautiful because his wonder is contrasted by my finitude. And because he doesn't leave me there. He is making me more like himself. I'm in awe of this fact. Only Jesus could be wonderful enough to love a person like me. Glorious.

Well, that was a small taste of the thoughts wiggling around in my head.

Two other utterly unrelated notes:

1) listening to Gratitude by Nichole Nordeman makes me want to be in Africa SO badly.

2) the sun was shining brilliantly today. The hope of spring was inescapable.

Alas, Roman and Greek wars demand my attention. So, let me leave you with this gem:

"I have blotted out your transgressions like a cloud and your sins like a mist; return to me, for I have redeemed you." Isaiah 44:23

More gospel.

More grace.

May it be real in my life.