Moving On

Writing has been hard since I've returned from YWAM and re-established myself, as much as I can, into this world I live in.  I think about writing often.  I have a whole list of blog posts to write.  Yet, there has been a lacking driving force.  Even my personal journaling has dropped off the edge of a huge cliff the last 9 months.  It is crazy to think that a year ago, I was on the Gold Coast in Australia, with the worst sunburn of my life.  It was there that I learned the truth about evangelism though and for the first time in my life understood what it means to truly love people.  It seems like so long ago.

 

2015.  A year of rest and divine grace.

 

It's incredible how much I need those two things more than anything in my life right now.  I have been struggling and wrestling with grace for myself since my return to the States.  It's a journey that scares me.  It is one I am willing to pursue though.  As for the rest?  I am long overdue for true rest.  The past two years have been physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausting for me in so many ways.  They have been the worst years of my life and yet the best.  Two sides to the same coin.  I cling to the good memories and the friendships forged out of vulnerability and God alone.

 

For these reasons and more, I am leaving the Valley of the Sun.  This was not a place I foresaw spending long amounts of time in when I first came here, and the time has come to leave.  My journey here was one of God pushing me out the door and out of my comfort zone.  It was one of immense fear and trepidation of what was to come.  I should never fear or worry.  He provided me with everything I needed and more.  While this next adventure has more questions and unknowns, the fear is severely less.  I am beyond excited to join my friend in Wisconsin.  I have no idea what is in store there for me, but I know that God will see me through.  He has brought me so far already.  I will not doubt His goodness to me, even when I don't deserve it.

The Places I'll Go.

For those of you who are new to my story, I'll summarize.  I'm a missionary.  I'm a worshiper.  I'm a child of the King.  This post may seem perchance titled a little off, but try and track with me.  Tonight, I want to talk about tattoos.  Yes - you read correctly.  Tattoos.

This is a touchy subject among the Christian world.  And whatever view you may hold on the matter, I'm not here to pick a fight or to condemn or to point fingers.

Because, you see, I have a tattoo.

Tattoos - they tell stories.  In the traveling that I have done over the past year I have met many a people with ink upon their bodies.  Each has an unique story to tell.  Every line, tittle, and jot has a history and a reason.  I met women in my beloved land of Papua New Guinea who bear the mark of old tribal history upon the weathered skin of their faces.  They have come from out of the jungle.  They have traveled into the light.  Some still scorn them for the marks upon their brows and cheeks.  These marks are the signs of witchcraft.  Of beliefs of old that have been cracked open by the Light of the World.

Is it so surprising that a culture, that has sustained much of it's traditions over the last century, is visible in threads among modern society?  Is it so strange to see facial tattoos when walking along in any major metropolitan area?  What may have been looked down upon 50, or even 20, years ago has found a stable place in culture.  Because the art of expressing oneself is never to be repressed.  Right?

My own tattoo... it has a story.  It's a reminder to me to remember.  (Funny how we need those, hey?)  Life isn't always easy.  It's not generally pretty.  There's a lot of shoe scuffing, glass breaking, nail biting moments in day to day life.  A year ago, my life was dark and bleak.  I walked through a season of death and searching in ways my 21 and 22 year old self had never imagined possible.  Every day was a struggle to just get up.  To face reality and the raw mess that we're left with in the blink of an eye sometimes.  After months of pain, sorrow, and self-inflicted isolation from God, a friend helped pull me out of the place I had holed myself up in.  I am forever grateful to him.  I'm not sure he'll ever truly understand the depth of my thankfulness.  As winter turned into spring inside my soul, I found myself with my girl Charlie at a tattoo parlor.  I knew what I wanted.  Small.  Unobtrusive.  A reminder.  This small mark upon my flesh was a sort of manifesto against the enemy.  It was my way of screaming what I couldn't vocalize.  "You.  Did.  Not.  Win."  It was the closing of a chapter, the opening of another.

I chose the ichthus.



Early believers used this simple fish to identify one another.  One would draw an arc casually in the sand, and if the new aquaintance completed the second arc then they knew of the mutual faith between them.  It's used today in a more mainstream way, but nonetheless.

Honestly, people hardly ever notice this ink permanently resting underneath my skin.  Which is 100% fine.  My goal wasn't to announce to the world that I'm a believer of Jesus Christ and that He conquered death and rose from the grave and now sits at the right hand of the Father waiting to come back to bring judgement and then once and for all defeat the enemy of us all.  Some people may choose to mark upon their bodies that way.  Which is great.  Seriously.  I offer no sass about it.

So what about future tattoos?

Personally, at this point in my life I have decided to not get any more tattoos.  I would love to, but I want to respect myself and the people that I will possibly live with and spend time with in the future.  I want to travel the world and the seven seas.  I want to be a part of cultures and shine for Jesus in a dark world.  Overall though, in regards to tattoos, I want to be respectful.  Since I have no clue where my travels will take me, I would rather be conservative.  Do I regret having my tattoo?  Absolutely not.  I'm not ashamed of it or embarrassed by it.  I understand the implications of ink upon my body referring to Christ may mean in a foreign land though.

I want to be effective.  I want to be respectful.  I want to bring life and show the world how life without Jesus is nothing.

::Katie Jean

Day One.

Every person has a story to tell.  Every person has a life to live.  My life and my story have landed here, in this space, to be shared with all of you.  Welcome.  I pray that we will drink lots of tea, laugh with each other, and even cry over the hard days.  Above everything I give all the glory to God and His plans and purposes for my life.  This is my imperfect, day to day, devotion to living as a disciple of Christ.  It's not easy, it's sometimes not pretty, but it's what I'm called to do.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

::Katie Jean

The Little Things

I sent this text message to Hannah one day: "Hey, will you be praying for me?  It's been a really rough day :/"

Not 10 seconds later my phone was buzzing with an incoming call from one of the best friends on the planet.  I was at work and couldn't take it.  So I let it go to voicemail.  She said she had expected it to go to voicemail, and then.... and then she proceeded to leave me a voicemail prayer.  I listened to it at work.  (NOT a good idea). I nearly lost it.  My Father in heaven loves me so much.  He speaks through people all the time.  It's amazing.  So she prayed for me, and it was the strength I needed to get through the day. 

Today, one of my favorite Germans  (You all are AMAZING btw) texted me and asked me to pray for her.  And from across the sea that seperates her and me I got to pray for her.  For the same thing that I am struggling with today - feeling alone.  How amazing a God we serve.  So Naoms reaching out to me was really God-in-flesh stretching out His hand and saying neither of you are alone.  

So, in short - You are not alone.  And that mountain looming in front of you?  Just remember it only takes one step at a time to scale, and a God who is walking in front of you, holding out His hand and simply saying, "Come." 

The Unexpected Reality of Life

Once again, more time has passed then I thought would in this small corner of the blogging world.  Life has been busy since returning to sunny Phoenix.  Life has been full of surprises and nothing I could have ever imagined.  Some bad, some good, and some in between.  I've been hard on myself when my attitude stinks at work, I've cried out to God when it seems like nothing has changed at all.  And then I get on Facebook and see the beautiful faces of my brothers and sisters around the world, and I do remember.  I remember the time we stayed up ALL night praying for healing for a brother who had to go home.  I remember the nights Hannah and I spent up in the bridge crying out to God and walking into a calling as intercessors we didn't fully understand (and still don't).  I remember. And it's like my Daddy is just shaking his head a little and saying something like, "Patience, my young daughter.  My grace is enough for you.  No matter what."  

And every single time I crumble.  Because nothing is what I thought it was going to be.  My quiet time is in shambles.  My sleep is so so.  Better than it was in PNG, but still not great.  My house, now that my roomie went back east: in shambles again.  And I cry out, "WHY?" 

Then a weekend spent in Minnesota cleared up a lot of things inside my head.  And I got to spend a short time with a small group of my family.  And it was amazing.  

Then back to work I went.  Looking up a little, not so worried about everything.  But it happened again.  I lost control of my temper and I snapped at my boss, and I could hardly breathe for the suffocating nature of me.  Again, I cry out, "WHY?"  Then a prompting to look up YWAM PHX.  They were having a gathering, so I RSVP'd and got in the car two days straight after work to go find whatever happened to my heart.  

And the second night?  The speaker.  He was a YWAMer for 30 years.  He retired, moved back to his hometown, and met a man.  They did ministry together for two years before one night, that will forever be ingrained in my memory, took him away.  This man who listened to The Lord when He said, "Don't speak at a YWAM event until I say yes." kept asking and kept getting, "No."  Until this time.  God said yes and he said yes.  And he travelled the two hours down the freeway to Phoenix.  And he said yes to God about the timing of this story.  To be the only session I could go to.  There was so much healing there.  So much God.  So much grace.  

I am still not perfect.  My apartment is still a mess.  I really am an extrovert.  I am still not a morning person.  But I am still a child of God.  I am unable to do this on my own.  I can't get out of bed without Jesus. I can't do my job without a bad attitude without my Savior.  This is the place I'm in right now.  I'm trying, every day, to grow.  To figure out how to live this life.  

My encouragement to you?  Breathe in grace and just let it settle before taking that next step.  Look for the small things to hold on to and let God deal with the rest.  

Discipleship is this.  One step at a time, saying yes.  I've been standing still for a while now.  It's time to move forward.  

Home

Hey folks,

It's been a while since I've posted.  Life has been a little crazy since coming back from beautiful PNG.  I'd like to share with you a report I had to write for YWAM.  It answers some specific questions they asked, but I think it is a good, quick overview of what Papua New Guinea was for me.  Don't worry, there will be more to come!  For now though, here is this.

Some people may look back at our outreach and see just the surface level, that we didn't "accomplish" a whole lot on the scales that the world likes to measure us against.  My God, who is bigger than the universe and who called 9 people from all over the world to Milne Bay, doesn't measure us against those scales, and that's a big thing I learned on outreach.   I've learned that The Lord sustains, even when sleep is fleeting, if you are deep in the Word.  I learned how important the individual really is and realized how that is so important in my own story as well.  Two small families in Alotau taught me these things.  The Butunas and the Wallaces changed my life.  It wasn't in a big, flashy production.  It was living life everyday.  

I love how in Milne Bay it's expected that you say hello and greet everyone you see.  At first that was really awkward.  In America, if you're from a small town, it okay to greet people you know.  In the city though, life is so fast paced and busy that people hardly notice the people around them.  The individual isn't recognized on a social level, so how can it be on a familial, spiritual, or church level?  If something isn't a habit personally, I think it's hard to apply it to the rest of the world.  So while in Milne Bay, I waved at every person we drove by and greeted everyone we walked by.  To see the excitement in a person's face when they realize that you are looking at them is humbling.  To see a middle aged man jumping up and down in excitement at a dimdim sticking her hand out the window and waving is something that makes you pause and really consider both the small and the big things in life.     

I knew that PNG was going to be less than what I'm used to as an American woman.  I knew that toilets were probably going to be different and that stuff wasn't going to abound.  We cooked meals over a camp stove every night.  About every two and a half weeks we would have to go get more gas to fuel the fire.  At home I have air con in my kitchen, floors that don't have cracks and that are completely sealed, and every kind of appliance you can imagine.  My family in Alotau has almost nothing in comparison.  They have cockroaches, fire ants, and cats in their kitchen where all they have is a chest freezer that also serves as their refrigerator.  Taking all of that in was a little challenging.  But I adapted.  I cooked kau-kau like Mom showed me (sometimes) and at least tried everything put in front of me.  I slept on the floor for 7 weeks and didn't complain.  I was blessed to have four walls and a roof over my head with a locking door.  

Ministry opportunities looked different for us.  We had two ministry times where we played the guitars in the park and sang worship for a couple hours.  So my sharing of the gospel was through music.  I can't say there was one day I sat down with someone and had a "gospel conversation".  Music was everything I did.  I shared everything I had to give, and I did see people respond to that.  

Preparing for outreach and arriving was interesting.  We had expectations and ideas and a plan  that we thought was going to be wonderful.  The Lord had a different plan.  Outreach didn't seem like outreach until about halfway through when we all realized that we were already where God wanted  us.  Transitioning mind sets was simple for me.  I was happy to be waiting on The Lord for other things.  

Transitioning back to Australia was a little harder.  I've now seen how the rest of the world is, and those two worlds wage war inside my head and before my eyes in ways I never imagined they would.  Going back to the States will be much more dramatic, I anticipate.  While Australia is absolutely a first world nation in every regard, it doesn't hold a candle to America in most respects, which makes me sad.  Going back to a world of consumerism and everything at your fingertips at all times really is making me consider the truly important things in life and how I want to live.  How do I help impact both worlds I've now lived in?  I don't  know yet, but I'm ready for this crazy journey with my Savior to find out. 

Every Day Things

I arrive at the ship like most days.  I change into work clothes and find all the supplies to clean the boys bathroom.  Broom, dust pan, general cleaner, disenfenctant, and rags.  Starting with the toilet in the corner I clean one at a time, working clockwise and making sure the lids are shut and the doors closed and locked when I'm finished.  I get to one toilet that needs a little extra love and care then continue on.  Next is the urinal. That takes it's own special cleaner.  Once that is finished the mirror above the double sink.  Once the toothpaste splatters are gone, like they never were there, it comes to the vanity.  My brothers here are hard workers.  Inevitably there is some grease or dirt to clean, reminding me of how He created men to work with their hands and to serve Him in the practical.  The floor comes next.  Swish goes the broom until there is no speck of dirt on the floor, but rather in my dustpan.  

Now the rather ugly part.  The showers.  The drains must be scrubbed to try and hold back the ever encroaching mold.  Because living on a ship on the Pacific Ocean, in a tropical climate means that nothing ever really gets dry.  The tile of the shower is also attacked with gusto.  There's that one corner that water never quite drains out of.  The walls, in their peeling beauty also must be scrubbed back to white from black.  More mold that is ever trying to take over the place. 

Empty the garbage, then mop the floor.  That is how I spend most days from 1:45 to about 2:30.  It's work.  Hard work, but every day it allows me time to think about and process a myriad of things going on here in my little corner of the world.  

Some days I think that if I find one more pair of boxers on the floor or one more wet towel, I might explode.  Often times, it's when these thoughts flit across my minds eye that The Lord softly reminds me of the song I'm already humming.  He asks me again and again to give everything I have to Him.  Even if I literally have nothing to give.

This weekend for example.  I woke up on Saturday morning (okay, let's be real... Morning is a relative term for this girl.  Morning does not come before 10:30) and went upstairs.  While I was eating breakfast someone came into the Mess Hall and said that we weren't supposed to do the dishes because people had just been leaving them everywhere.  They wanted us to leave a sink full of dishes until the people responsible came and washed them.  

We have to pause the story here and start another so you understand where I'm coming from next.  I've been reading the book, "Kisses From Katie" and one thing she has taught me is that we have to love with every single ounce of everything we have.  That even when it hurts and people don't necessarily "deserve" it, we are still called to love.  

You may not agree with me, and people on the ship certainly don't, but this is my conviction:  people will not change unless they have revelation.  And most will not receive revelation by shoving dishes down their throats.  

So I washed a sink full of dirty dishes.  Because all I can do in this life is love.  I am not a parent to these people I live with, even though some call me Momma Katie.  They have chosen to, and they would listen.  But those I don't have a relationship like that with, they will never hear words.  They will only see love.  So I love them, and try to be the hands of Christ for half an hour and wash dishes.  Are there other things I would like to do on a Saturday?  Yes.  But God taught me the hard lessons of the simple things in 2013, and washing dishes is something I can do on a Saturday morning.  

I'm not here to preach.  I understand there is a place for correction in the body of Christ.  All I have is my story to share, and this is it.

It's hardly believable that we leave for PNG this Sunday.  I am so excited!  Excited for what the Lord is doing in the people and what the Lord our God is doing in my outreach family.  

Praise Report:  The Lord is faithful and is bringing exactly the right people to come and share with us this week.  We're having some time to bond with Selena, which has been great.  

Prayer Requests:  Our school has about $12,000 still owed, spread out across about 12 people.  Really be praying for a release in finances.  We're trusting God with big, amazing things.  We know He will provide.  

That my outreach family would continue to bond as we get day by day closer to those airplanes.  

I sincerely appreciate every prayer.  I believe with all of my heart that it does make a difference.  I would ask that you continue to lift up my team and whole DTS as we head to PNG and Darwin over the next 7 weeks.  I won't be able to post or respond to anything, but we serve a God who works despite lack of internet. ;) 

Be blessed and until next time,

-Katie