Come and Be -- Another Perspective

There she stood, frustrated. Waving her arms and begging for help. She was overwhelmed and exhausted. He could see it in the lines in her face and the bags under her eyes. Careworn. 

Oh how she had worked. Years of work had gone unseen and unappreciated. His eyes softened  as he perused her. She was blinded by her busyness, convinced that what she needed was help and recognition. He recognized her efforts, nevertheless he knew recognition was not what she needed. He could laud her and praise her and she would feel better momentarily. But the praise would only compel her to work harder. No, she didn't need accolades; she needed rest. He pondered the words he would say, knowing that at first she would hate to hear them. He pictured her initial reaction and ached inside. But how could he give her what she wanted, when that meant withholding the very truth that would set her free?

He glanced at her sister who sat rigid at his feet as accusations stacked up against her. His compassion stirred for both of them. Hurt and weariness motivated the torrent. He knew his friend longed to sit at his feet as well, but wouldn't allow herself to stop when she'd convinced herself she had to work.

Yes, what she desperately needed was rest.

Inwardly, he grimaced before he spoke. His voice was tender, though he knew she would perceive it as harsh. "Martha, Martha, you are weary and upset over many things. But few things are needed--indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better and it will not be taken away from her."

He watched her face fall as his words sank in. He wanted to pull her next to him and comfort her, but he waited. Eyes blurred by tears, she stumbled out of the room. He watched her go--willing himself to wait--before sitting down to resume his teaching. And he waited. The seconds stretched to minutes which stretched to over an hour. He longed for her to come. To forget everything that made her frantic and to experience the moment. It wasn't the same without her. But she had a choice and he couldn't make it for her.

If only she would come and be.

And you know what?

She did. 

Matthew 11:28-30

Come to me all who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from for I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

Somewhere to Be

The words came like a punch in the gut. 

She had slaved. Labored. Poured. Her heart, her soul, her sweat, her energy...she wanted to make this meal the best. Everything needed to be perfect: the house spotless, the food just right, the hospitality flawless. Her name didn't mean "mistress of the house" for nothing. She wanted--nay, needed--to prove to him that she could do this. He would feel special, honored, and valued because of her. 

Ripples of excitement coursed through her as she readied the house and planned her courses and checked off her list. Few things match the relish of a checked off list. But as the hours of preparation wore on, she felt herself growing weary. This was taking longer than she had planned. The clock ticked by faster than she could work and the knot in her stomach grew. She wouldn't be ready in time. When he arrived, she was practically in a frenzy. She had burned the bread the first time around and spilled on her dress and the fish wasn't turning out right and she couldn't mess up the dessert and of course there were the drinks and where the hell was Mary??? Her unfinished list loomed over her head, taunting. And there her sister sat, peacefullly listening and hanging onto every word he said while she slaved away in the kitchen. 

She snapped. 

And then he had the audacity to tell her that Mary had chosen better. 

She was speechless. She might've replied had she not remembered that at the moment the bread was about to burn. Again. 

As she pulled the bread from the oven, a blend of tears and sweat and fury blurred her vision. This was her moment and it was ruined. She had wanted so desperately to make him feel special...to prove...to prove...to prove what? Something. Anything. 

And in that moment, she was spent. There were no more wells of industriousness and strength and fortitude to pull from. Years of being the strong one and carrying the weights and the burdens of her reckless sister and ailing brother bore down on her. And she couldn't do it anymore. Quite simply, she was tired. Tired of picking up the pieces. Tired of pulling herself up by her bootstraps. Tired of wearing her "put together" facade because, while everyone else might fall apart, she sure as hell wasn't going to! And in that instant, she envied Mary for the very thing she always criticized her of--laziness, or as she was beginning to see it: the ability to simply "be." Quite frankly, she had no idea how to just "be." 

Emotions simmering down, she replayed his words over and over and over: "Martha, Martha, you are weary and upset over many things. But few things are needed--indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better and it will not be taken away from her." 

What initially came as a slap in the face changed the more she mulled over it. The light in his eyes. The tenderness in his voice. The beckoning of his hand. He wasn't criticizing her. He was inviting her. Wasn't he the very one who said, "Come to me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest?" And what was she doing? Everything but that. No, he wasn't telling her to work alone or comparing her to her sister criticizing her for her work. Rather, he was inviting her to do what Mary was doing, to rest and to simply be with Him. 

Martha took a deep trembling breath and looked at her unfinished meal, messy kitchen, and stained dress. 

Forget dessert. She had somewhere to be. 

Matthew 11:28-30

Come to me all who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from for I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

Further reading in Luke 10:38-42

Salt and Bland Religion

I watched two episodes of a TV series yesterday that were absolutely hilarious and would be super easy for me to get addicted to. But as I watched them, the question, "Is this honoring to my king?" kept running through my mind. I tried to avoid answering the question, but I knew what it was. While funny, much of the content exonerated things that I simply can't condone. As much as I wanted to keep watching, I finally pulled myself away and pouted about how annoying my "overreactive conscience" is.  

Then I opened up the Word and my eyes landed upon Matthew 5:13 "You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored?" I didn't make it any further than that because I knew this was the Holy Spirit speaking. 

So, for those of you who don't know me, I am somewhat of a health nut. Nutrition and its effects on the body fascinate me to no end. There's this little thing called salt. What most people think is that you're not supposed to get too much salt because it can cause problems such as hypertension and high blood pressure. Well, sort of. Actually, what you're not supposed to get too much of is table salt whereas mineral salt (the way God created it!) is actually a highly nutrient dense food that's important for our bodies to function properly. 

What's the difference? Mineral or sea salt is basically dried up sea water and it's chock full of all the nutrients and minerals from the sea. Table salt--what most of you are using--is salt that has been stripped of all its minerals so that all that's left is the sodium. Here's the problem: when we eat salt our bodies expect to get all the other minerals along with the sodium. But because they're not getting them, it craves more and this can lead to an imbalance in the body. What does this have to do with TV???

When we walk with the Lord and follow wholeheartedly after Him, we become like salt--full of nutrients and flavor to give to the world. But when we start to compromise our values, our standards, or our beliefs, we start losing nutrients. We may still have flavor, but it's false advertising. We're promising those around us something of great nutritional value, when really we just have a bunch of sodium which, by itself, can cause health problems. 

This is religion without Jesus.

This is the talk without the walk.

This is saying "I follow Jesus" while still living how we please. 

This is the very reason so many people are turned off to the church because we promise what we can't give; we say one thing then do another. We've lost our saltiness and who wants to eat a plate of unsalted food?

Psalm 34:8 says, "Taste and see that the Lord is good." But how will people believe that God's the real deal if His followers are bland and boring and don't really look different than anyone else?

Now here's the clincher. If we ourselves haven't actually "tasted and seen," then how can anyone around us? Only when we truly know God and seek Him with our whole hearts, can we live in such a way to make a difference. In other words, if we want to be salty we have to drench ourselves in the se

Beauty in Chaos

When you look at this picture what do I see? I see something very poignant in the tangled mess of barbed wire and bright red poppies. They're trying so desperately to break through and live how they were created to live but it's incredibly difficult. Sometimes I so relate to the struggle of the poppies, trying so hard to still be beautiful when their lives are a chaotic mess. 

The parable of the sower in Matthew 13 comes to mind. The sower sowed seed which fell on all different types of soil, rocky, thorny, and ready. Verse 7 speaks of  the seeds that "fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them." In verse 23 Jesus explains that "what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of this world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word and it proves unfruitful." 

How often has that been me? The Holy Spirit will speak something or I'll read something and instead of allowing it to change me, I get so caught up in worry or stress or busyness or idleness or who-knows-what that I miss what the Lord was trying to teach me. I let the Word of God get choked out by nothing, really. 

I like to think of myself as that perfectly good soil all the time. But, in all honesty, I'm not. Sometimes there are lot of rocks and a lot of thorns. And you know how the good soil gets to be ready soil? It's tilled and plowed and worked until the rocks and the the thorns are taken out. I think if we take an honest look at our lives we'll see that we have more rocks and thorns than we'd like to admit. But instead of despairing, we can allow the Holy Spirit to pull out the thorns and get rid of the rocks. 

And while we're in the process, don't lose heart. There may be seed that's started to grow and feels choked, but God is a master at doing the impossible with those that will let Him and He's patient enough to work the land. As this picture shows, God can create beauty in the midst of chaos. And he can heal even the thorniest of hearts. 

Even in the Little Things

Can I just start off by saying this last week sucked and get it over with? 

Now that that's established, can I just interject that God is really, really, really faithful? 

This was a hard week for a lot of reasons: a painful death of a dream combined with a lesson learned the hard way; the Boston bombing plus the explosion in Texas; a bout of homesickness mixed in with some bodily sickness and a fair bit of lonesomeness all made for a serious case of the blues. Yes, my friends, this was an all around down and out week. 

But thankfully, down and out weeks don't have to end as down and out weeks. I have said before that God always surprises me about how He meets my needs. Just when I feel like I'm at my rope's end, He gives me a brief respite. These have come in the forms of a last minute prayer and worship session with two friends, a Thanksgiving dinner with a group of Americans, a trip to Albania with Nesha, coffee with Linda or Soni, an unexpected note from a friend, and a Skype call with someone from home. 

Last night--after I spent the day moping around in a sinus-pressured cloud--He surprised me again. Saturday nights we have our weekly Real Change youth group meeting and this Saturday we had a group from Pristina, a nearby city, coming to join us. Mixed in with this group of Albanians were two American guys. Now, this may seem super insignificant to those of you in the States as you are surrounded by English speaking Americans 24-7, but to me this was gargantuan. Currently, whenever I encounter an unknown American I feel kind of like I'm encountering a celebrity. Pathetic, I know, but honest. 

After youth group was over, their group and a portion of ours went out for coffee. And it was just fun. Really, there was absolutely nothing significant about it except that it was exactly what my heart was needing: social interaction with like-minded people who speak my language--literally, culturally, and spiritually. 

So today I'm thankful for a God who knows me and loves me and cares for me, even in the little things.  

Disillusionment and Jesus

I confess, I am currently feeling this little thing called "disillusionment." It's what happens when life looks messier and harder and grittier than you expect. It's what happens when really bad things happen to really good people or when those you trusted make terrible choices or when you see another picture of a child starving in Africa or see that a bombing's happened somewhere new or hear on the news about a mother killing her kids or ______________. You fill in the blank.

I received some hard news this week. And my initial reaction was to throw up my hands and say, "God, why?" This morning, I found myself at the foot of the cross, a place that I haven't really been in a while. I came before the Lord in honesty, in humility, and in hurt. No facades, no pretentions, just me and Jesus. During that time of worship, I rememberd why it is that I follow Jesus--the cross, the sacrifice, the sweet taste of forgiveness. I found myself caught up in His mercy and forgiveness and healing. While the world is tumultuous and unstable, He is faithful and His love never fails. And no matter what I feel, no matter what life looks like, no matter what happens, my God is the same, yesterday, today, and forever. When we come to Him, exactly as we are, exactly where we are, He gives us exactly what we need for the moment we're in.

Disillusionment happens when we put our hope in people, things, or circumstances. But all of those are subject to change. The only cure for disillusionment is to put our complete hope in God, for He will never lead us astray or disappoint. I leave you with the words of a beautiful, poignant song:

Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full in His wonderful face
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace

That's advice I'm choosing to take.

The Continuum of Katelyn's Comedic Kosovo Crises

My mother posed a question to me not long ago. It was this: "At whose expense will your landlord amuse himself when you're gone?" Now this came after a rather eventful, eh, event. You see I had done laundry on this fateful Saturday, which I do on random occasions when I realize that I'm running out of clothes. Well, on this particular day my washing machine (an ancient German thing) was filled with heavy towels. When wet, these towels are heavy--so heavy that my washing machine had a serious case of indigestion.

. 

Now, I don't know about you, but when my stomach's upset, I want to lie down. Not so with my washing machine. He (it's a he) started shaking. Actually, it was more like convulsing. And groaning--he has the most terrible groans when his stomach's upset. I rather thought that he was going to explode, but he didn't. He simply didn't stay in one place.

Earlier, I had asked my landlord to replace a light in my bathroom about half an hour before I had to leave for worship practice. Yes, I know how to change a light bulb. Just not this lightbulb. Nor did I have any idea where to buy the kind of lightbulb that is in my bathroom. Besides, I asked in Albanian (go me!), so I should get points for multi-lingual communication, right? I was about to leave for worship when I ran to grab something from the bathroom. Only one problem, the door refused to open. My roommate wasn't home, why on earth was it closed? After a moment, I realized--"Holy crap, the washing machine is in front of the door." His tummy was apparently very upset.

"Well," I thought, "I don't have time to deal with this now. I have to go!" Not gonna lie, in the back of my mind I thought, "And Ramiz will probably come up and discover the problem and fix it for me." Terrible, right? That's exactly what happened. In the middle of worship practice, Ramiz burst into the room a blend of frantic and confused "Do you realize what has happened in your bathroom? How did that happen?" And then he gave me the look. Not the "how can I possibly put up with your mishaps" look, but an incredulous "how do you get into these mishaps?" look.

And that, my friend, is a question I'm still trying to answer.

A Little Level Headed for Once

Sometimes I read scripture and, quite frankly, I don't buy it. It sounds too good to be true. If the Word of God is true, shouldn't life look, well, different? The reality I live in certainly doesn't reflect the ideal that I would expect from reading certain passages.

 Take this little section I found tonight.

Now to Him who is able to do abundantly more than all that we ask or think (imagine) according to the power that is at work within us. -Ephesians 3:20

Now, if I follow this passage of scripture to its logical conclusion, then I should be a) really really excited, b) filled with faith, and c) in great awe. And here's why-this scripture blatantly implies that:

1. My imagination (and I, admittedly, have a very active one) is far too small to comprehend God's infinite power, wisdom, creativity, ability, imagination, resources, passion, strength etc.

2. Asking means something. If He can do more than we ask, there is an implication that we should ask for more. You know, that whole "ask and it will be given to you, seek and you will find, knock and the door will be opened to you" thing. I'm pretty sure that's in there somewhere too. I get the feeling that if people really believed this then they would start asking for crazy, ridiculous things like impossible revival, radical miracles, unbelievable opportunities, and unearned blessing--prayers that a reasonable minded person wouldn't be foolish enough to pray.

3. Now, here's the kicker. At this point, we have to draw the line. In essence, this scripture declares that we have access to this power. This power that we can't even imagine, we have access to. In other words, nothing should be impossible for us. I think there was also something about a mustard seed in there, now that I think about it. So if we actually believed this stuff, wild events should take place, right? I mean, people should be getting healed, addictions broken, marriages restored etc. We should be hearing about how checks show up right when the water's about to get turned off and people are finding work in a horrible economy and God's saying the same thing to people on different continents and people start having mind boggling opportunity to go to countries where the gospel isn't allowed. Shouldn't there be crazy "coincidences" happening all the time and people are falling on their faces before the living God in surrender and freedom and unbelievable favor with people who have no business giving you favor? At the same time, shouldn't there be persecution? People hating us cause we love Jesus...but every time they attempt to defame the name of Christ His name grows in honor? Moreover, we wouldn't be afraid of ANYTHING. Not afraid to start a business in a slow economy or go to a country that is totally different than what we know or quit a successful job to go into ministry or talk to a coworker about Jesus or study something impractical like theatre or art because you belive God's called you to take a faith leap or selling everything you have to give to the poor or...or...or...there are a hundred thousand different scenarios that could follow that "or."

That is, if we actually took Scripture literally. But it's a good thing that we we're level headed enough not to buy into that charismatic nonsense. Otherwise, things might get a little out of hand. 

Freedom!!!!

Tonight I encountered Jesus.

I had spent most of the day feeling heavy and lazy and unmotivated. After an evening that felt utterly like defeat, I'd had enough. I saw the possibility of spiraling deep into depression and old chains and started to pray--proclaim, rather, the truth of who I am in Christ and where I stand. At first, it was awful. I felt like I could barely speak. All I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and run away. But I kept going. And then something happened. My words began to on a life of their own as I recognized that I have a choice, that I could choose freedom or I could choose to remain in bondage. As I proclaimed, the presence of the Lord rested on me and I found myself speaking such truth with such passion and with such faith. By my power? No, by the grace of God! This same grace that He has given each one of us (this means you have access to this same grace!).

Freedom was mine for the taking. And I was grabbing hold of it. 

And even now, I cling to it and I refuse to let go. You see, I have a choice. And I choose to be free.

"Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom" (2 Corinthians 3:17) and if you've accepted Christ, the Spirit of the Lord is inside of you! Therefore freedom is inside of you! 

"Those whom the Son sets free are free indeed!" (John 8:36). Jesus came to set the captives free. With His blood that He shed He purchased freedom for us ALL. He's already done it.

Therefore,  "throw off your chains, O captive daughter of Zion!" (Isaiah 52:2). "It is for freedom's sake that we have been set free. Stand firm, then and do not let yourselves be burdened by a yoke of slavery" (Galatians 5:1). 

Tonight, I had a choice. Remain passive and hopeless and bound. Or step into authority and hope and freedom. I made a choice. And I will make the choice as many times as I have to. I chose and am choosing freedom. I choose to be free.

Do you? 

That Awkward Moment When...

Normally I'm not a big fan of "that awkward moment" phrases as they are cliche and overused. But I couldn't really think of a more fitting title for a blog entirely about awkward moments. Of which there have been many. As most of you are very far far away, I have decided that it is only fair that you get a small taste of some of my hilariously painful and (warning: other overused cliche teenage phrase coming up) "FAIL" moments. Here goes....that awkward moment when:

-You find yourself staring in bewilderment at your front door. You have frustratingly been pulling at the key to your house, which refuses to budge. Finally you get your landlord to come help you and wait upstairs while he fixes the problem. Over an hour later he reappears with a new key for you as yours broke off in the door handle and he had to replace the whole lock. Oops. 

-On a hot, sultry afternoon you are on a walk. You are not particularly fond of the place you chose to walk that day as it is out of your ordinary sphere. A man in a car rolls by and (I am assuming) offers a ride. He doesn't listen when you say, "Nuk flas Shqip" (I don't speak Albanian) multiple times and keep walking. So finally you yell at him in tongues until he drives away. Let's avoid this road from now on. Yikes.

-You're going to exchange money and find yourself, not at a bank, but next to a foreign man in a back alley, late at night. Every scene from James Bond, Mission Impossible, and basically every action film floods your mind as you tensely glance both ways, then pull out your hefty load of cash (okay...if you call 800 dollars hefty) before making the discreet exchange. Except that instead of a back alley on a dark night, it was the side of a busy road, in the middle of the day, and the only one who considered this event even remotely James Bond-esque is you and your overactive imagination. Fail. 

-It's 11:00 pm. You've been out later than you planned and you just want to get in nice and quiet to avoid waking your landlords who live on the bottom floor. Only problem is the gate to your door is locked. You have to ring the doorbell for your roommate to let you in (thus waking the landlords). And when she opens the door, the alarm goes off. Quiet...or not.

-You woke up early, had a glorious run through the city. You are feeling victorious (and a little rebellious) that you went on a run before most of the world was up to gawk at you and remind you that you're "not in Kansas anymore, Toto."  You have just taken a luxurious bath and are dreaming of the awesome breakfast and coffee you are about to serve yourself. However, upon getting out of the tub, you bump a pipe coming out of the wall. In an instant your peaceful morning is interrupted by a torrent of water spewing from the wall. For what feels like forever you stare in shock, contemplating if running down three flights of stairs in a bathrobe is an acceptable way to ask for help. You decide that it isn't, get dressed with soaking wet hair, all while your bathroom floods. Screaming hysterically, "Ramiz! Ramiz! Uje! Uje!", you attempt to let your landlord understand the urgency of the situation. He doesn't. So you scream some more, "Hajde! Hajde!" and run upstairs, motioning for him to follow. He saunters slowly after you. When he FINALLY gets upstairs, he meanders into the pool otherwise known as "the bathroom" and turns a knob less than two feet away from the tub, thus stopping the water. Yep. 

-Two lovely Albanian girls are staying at your house for the weekend. However, a few weeks ago a screw came out of your bathroom door handle and you haven't bothered to put another one in (mostly because you don't know how to ask for it Albanian and you've learned the trick of carefully opening the door so the handle doesn't come off). Well, you forget to mention this little detail to your guests and the handle comes off. And, this time, we can't figure out how to get it back on. It's late at night and we don't want to wake up Ramiz to come fix it, so we decide we'll all go to the Center (which is right next to my house) to use the restroom there. Well, let's just say our attempts at silence utterly failed. Ramiz came to see what all the ruckus was and why on earth we were at the Center so late. sheepishly, we (or i should say Irena as she speaks Albanian!) explained. On the plus, he opened up the second story apartment for us to use until he fixed the door. That's good, right? 

Well...there are a few of my awkward moments. Hope you got a few laughs and experienced a glimmer of the trauma I've been through. I'm sure I'll have to go through counseling or something for all this. If nothing else, I've learned to find humor and hilarity in my day to day mishaps and experiences. Near or far, I hope you'll do the same! In the mean time, I'll try not to break anything...

Disaster Offerings

"He received out of her disaster."

That was a line that I wrote while updating my last blog post. Tonight I was reading that blog because I needed some encouragement. I didn't finish reading; I got to that line and was immediately moved. 

The woman with the alabaster jar was a disaster; there's no way around it. I can't tell you how often I've used the "but I'm a disaster" excuse to not pour out on Jesus, thinking, "I'll come back when I'm more put together." But when does "more put together" really come? And do I honestly want to wait that long before I turn to Jesus? 

You see, she didn't care. Or she refused to care. Or she cared and she went anyway. Because she recognized that if she didn't go then, she never would and she would spend her whole life regretting that she didn't give Him everything. 

All too often we think that we have to measure up to some invisible, exacting standard before we have something to offer--such as those at the dinner party did, when they said, "Lord, do you know what kind of woman is touching you?" A lie that the enemy once used to debilitate me was that same one: "You can't touch Jesus, look what kind of person you've been." But that's simply a lie! Jesus wants us now. Exactly as we are. Disaster and all.

When she poured out that fragrant nard on Him, He was blessed. He received. When she washed His feet with her tears, He was moved. He was honored. When she wiped her tears with her hair, He was touched. He was glorified. You see, He received out of her disaster. The very fact that she was willing to come to Him as a disaster moved Him to the very core. And as everyone else shook their heads in disdain, He loved her. And He defended her. And He was blessed because of her.

So don't wait until you're "more put together" or you'll never come. I know I never would. Come as you are. Bring what you have. Offer yourself. That's all He asks for. And quite frankly, that's all I have to give.

Costly Perfume

Let my praises rise like incense
Let this offering fill Your senses
All for You, all for You

I pour it out at Your feet
All I am for You
I pour it out at Your feet
All my costly perfume
The fragrance fills the room
All my life for You

This is only a portion of a song that I recently wrote about the woman with the alabster jar, who pours her perfume on Jesus. Most of the song talks about shame and about dealing with the crowds who are all staring at her. What she did cost her far more than the years worth of wages held that perfume bottle; it cost her her dignity, her pride, and her reputation. While her reputation wasn't much to begin with, I imagine that there was a sort of pride she carried in not associating with those who considered themselves better than her. And yet, she walked into a room filled with those very scoffing eyes and mocking voices because she wanted Jesus more than anything else.

That kind of passion and courage astounds me and amazes me and enthralls me. I want it and yet am terrifed of it--that reckless abandon that threw absolutely everything at His feet. She was a complete spectacle--a snotty red-eyed mess, her hair absolutely everywhere, covered in perfume and tears and dirt from Jesus' feet. All the while the dignified religious men were watching, mouths agape in disgust, shock, and horror. And Jesus just stood there. And received. Think of that...he received out of her disaster. Most of us would have called her crazy, He called her blessed.

In the middle of her most vulnerable, humbling, messy moment yet, she became the most beautiful, talked about, and captivating woman in the New Testament. I wonder how she felt. Did she feel foolish? Relieved? Exhausted? Overwhelmed? Ashamed? Free? Forgiven? Healed? All of the above? What drove her to so foolishly fall at His feet in the middle of the crowd--at someone else's house, no less? I am fascinated by this woman, and I am fascinated by how much her story moves me. I think what fascinates me most is how very very different we are and how very very much I relate to her.

Like her, I am driven by this passion to give everything for Jesus and yet everything isn't easy. Everything costs. A lot. And there are so many moments when I don't like what it costs to follow Jesus; it hurts, it's hard, it's unpleasant. And sometimes the road just plain gets lonely. Being in another country and another culture, I feel as if I'm often up and down, up and down. There are moments of such, such sweetness with The Lord and with my teammates and with new people. And then there are moments of such frustration and confusion and overwhelm. I can't decide whether I really want to be around people or I really want to hide away in my room and never emerge. And yet in the middle of my vacillating emotion, there is a continual steadiness, an unchanging knowing that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be: that the team I get the privilege of working alongside has been handpicked by God to be together. And that is wonderful, wonderful joy. And no matter what I'm feeling in the moment, I know that I know that I know that this is of God. Emotion will always take a backseat to that.

I guess what it comes down to is this: this is my offering. Being here. Following Jesus. Ministering alongside this team. It's beautiful and wonderful and costly. In Bend, I had an offering, it just looked different. It would have cost me to stay and it costs me to go. Here, the costs are simply more evident since my go-to comforts aren't as easy to come by. In many ways, it's healing. In many ways, it's refreshing. In many ways, it's filled with joy. And in many ways, it's hard.

But that's this journey, isn't it? And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Another amazing week...

This week, I got to see Jesus move.

Two ladies from the states came to join us for a week of ministry. Long story short, we had three days of intensive training and it was awesome! Without going into too much detail, here are the highlights:

-Wednesday night, we had prayer with the youth. Sue began giving words of knowledge to all the kids. I swear my mouth must've hit the floor. Even cooler, I started getting words too. And it was amazing to see how Sue would speak out to one kid exactly what the Holy Spirit would whisper to me or something that completely complemented what I was receiving.

-Teaching on spiritual gifts. We got to live it out and learn while we went!

-Watching Violetta, a pastor's wife from one of the other churches, get healed when we prayed! Whoop whoop (this cheer is your influence, Veronique!)!

-Karaoke night in Ferizaj with the youth group. Let's just say, as a musician, it can be very...challenging to sit quietly and listen as songs are intentionally being butchered before your very ears.

-TiranaFest! Genti, three girls, and I drove to Albania on Saturday morning for the Luis Palau Festival in Tirana. Awesome. Exhasting. Best part in my opinion, hands down, was the miracle we experienced crossing the border. Theoretically, kids under a certain age are supposed to have a notarized document saying that their parents are allowing them to leave the country with another adult. However, in the past, they've taken the documents and haven't needed them. So this time, Genti didn't stress it. But the border guards did. After being told we couldn't go through, we prayed with the girls, believed in faith, talked to someone else, and (45 minutes later) got through! Praise Jesus! What a faith building experience for the girls!

-Treasure Island. After getting home on Sunday completely and totally beat, I had to unwind. So I tried a classic I hadn't read; it was a good choice.

-Coffee and conversation with Nesha. The more time I spend with my roommate, the more I absolutely adore her. She is an absolute treasure! I feel so very blessed to live with her in this season. And this was a great escape from responsibility, as both of us were so exhausted that we didn't want to do anything productive. We were both feeling some serious adrenaline letdown after an intense week. So we went out for coffee...which was productive; we were building relationship. :)

Much love to you all! Thank you for all of your prayers; I can't tell you how much they mean to me. I need them!

Katelyn

Blown Away

Wow. Talk about an amazing day. I'm still reeling from the goodness of the Lord!

Mondays are team meetings. They usually go from 9-12ish. I woke up excited this morning, but a few minutes into the meeting, I was dragging. So was everyone else, it seemed.

The first week and half has been both really good and really hard. In all transparency, I didn't expect the adjustment to be nearly as hard on me as it has been. I experienced more culture shock than I'd prepared myself for. I expected to have to push myself through the meeting, as I felt burdened and weighed down. But the Lord, faithful as He is, had very different plans. Long story short: He moved, turned our discussion int intercession, and I left that meeting on fire. So much on fire that I just had to worship, my heart was burning. The bridge to Healer by Kari Jobe was a huge theme:
Nothing is impossible with You
Nothing is impossible
Nothing is impossible with You
You hold the world in Your hands

A few hours later, Nesha was heading out the door to visit a friend and she invited me to come along. This is a lady she met when the team handed out New Testaments earlier this year. As we were walking to her house, I wondered somewhat why I was going, given my level of Albanian fluency and all. Intercessor. That one word fluttered in my heart and I knew that that was why I was going. I was going to pray.

At first it was the normal chit-chat and complete awkwardness for me. But after awhile the conversation turned. My spirit quickened within me as the word Zoti came out of Nesha's mouth in increasing intervals. Zoti. God. I sat and prayed, having absolutely no idea what was going on except that there was an intense conversation. Then, Nesha said we were going to pray. She would interpret for me when I prayed. Nesha prayed. As I sat there, my heart fluttered again: pain in her left thigh. What?! No way. You've got to be kidding me. I'm not saying that. There is no way. Once again: pain in her left thigh. I'm not saying that; my stubborness persisted. Besides, I'll make YOU look like a fool and me and Nesha. Try me. Finally, Nesha stopped. Oh no. I have to do this.

"Ask her...if she has pain in her left leg."
"What?"
"Pain. In her left leg."
Nesha interpreted.
"Po. Po." came the response and she pointed to, lo and behold, her left thigh. My jaw virtually drpped at this announced. There's no way! I practically gigled through the next sentence.
"God wants to heal your leg. He showed me you have pain because He wants to heal." So I prayed. Short and simple. And the pain was gone.

Now, I've received words of knowledge before but never about healing. In fact, I've had a very hard time in the past even praying for healing for others. So here I am reeling from the fact that I just got to pray for this Kosovar woman for healing. And it happened. Then, her husband walks in the door.

At this point, I assume, it's time for us to leave. Not exactly. He sits down. Starts talking. Soon, Nesha is sharing the gospel with him. And the whole time is very open to discussion, talking about other world religions and Jesus. When does that happen? During all of this, I just sat amazed, watching this whole thing transpire. Five hours after we arrived, after dinner and tea, prayer, discussion, and general Kosovar hospitality, Nesha and I finally left. We were both awed by the events of the evening. While they didn't accept the Lord, the Spirit definitely moved. And I'm excited to see what the Lord continues to do.

On our walk home, I prayed, "Wow. Thanks for that, Daddy."

Once again, ever so softly in my heart, I heard a quiet whisper, "This is only the beginning." 

Faithful...

The Lord is faithful. And by faithful I mean crazy ridiculously impossibly wonderfully amazingly overwhelming intensely passionately perfectly deliciously delightfully faithful. He always shows up. He always answers. He always surprises. He surpasses expectation. And He loves loves loves loves to make Himself known to us.

I don't have anything very profound to say except this: God is faithful. So wherever you are, whatever you're going through, whatever circumstance you're facing, don't give up. Because He's not finished yet.

Philippians 1:6 
And I am sure of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion in the day of Christ Jesus.

Week One: Check

Welp, I survived my first week! That counts for something, right?

Each day certainly feels like a new adventure. While, I have had a lot of free time this week--way more than I know what to do with--I have had a few little...ahem...mishaps, too. It has been nice to rest and recover and adjust, though I'm pretty ready to dive headfirst into ministry.

Wednesday night made one full week of being here. Crazy.  In that week I have:

Taken myself on a tour of the city. And gotten lost. So lost that when I called Linda she had no idea where I was and told me to get in a taxi and meet her somewhere familiar. Turns out I wandered pretty far.... :D

Had coffee (okay lemonade/water) with two 12 and 13 year old girls from the Center. They showed me around a bit, we chatted, they practiced their English. We giggled at my attempts at Albanian. It was fun.

Had Turkish coffee (which is thick and strong with heavy grounds on the top...not exactly a decaf soy latte) and pite (I'm not sure how you spell that one) with my landlords, who speak significantly less English than I speak Albanian--which is saying a lot. We laughed and I looked sheepish and they fed me way too much. Moreover, this was on day number two when my understanding of the Albanian language was about, eh, none. I've picked up a little more since I've been here.

Experienced some culture shock. Wandered around in a daze for a little while. "What did I get myself into?!?" Hid in my room after an overload of Albanian. Took deep breaths. Cried. Played music. Freaked out. Got excited again. Yeah, not a roller coaster or anything.

Met with Geni and Soni to discuss my role here. It's getting clearer, but not perfectly defined...more on that later. They are amazing. I have a very deep admiration for them within in the little time I've had here.

Laughed with Nesha at our often hilarious methods of communication. She is a great storyteller with an amazing heart for the Lord. Even in her broken English, I understand her. Her English is actually pretty good, she just isn't very confident in it. But living with me, I hope, is helping her.

Learned a bajillion Albanian words from Simone, Geni and Soni's youngest son. Enjoyment level: really high. Retention level: yeah, pretty much zero.

Spent time with Genti and Linda and their boys. What a sweet family! Love  them. Linda took me shopping so that I actually had food to eat, which is a plus, all things considered.

Discovered that Kosovars are always late. If we're supposed to be somewhere at 9, we get there at 9:10 or 9:15. And everyone else is on this same schedule, so there isn't really any point in being prompt.

Put money on my cell phone all by myself! Never mind the fact that the man at the booth kept trying to communicate with me and I was absolutely clueless as to what he was saying. So finally I just held up my hand for five euros and he understood...after the girl next to me interpreted. :D


Read me some Jane Austen. Spent too much time on Pinterest. Checked my Facbook a LOT. Did some creative writing. Checked Facebook some more. Skyped with la familia.  Like I said, I've had a lot of time on my hands. I have a feeling this will change very, very soon. So I'm soaking it in while I've got it!

Met another single American woman living in Gjilan. She teaches English and has been here five years. Her name is Meredith and I really like her. We had coffee last night. She has such a sweet heart for the Lord.

Well, there's a glimpse into my life. Hope yours is going well too!

With love from Gjilan,
Katelyn (aka Katalina around here)

This week in a nutshell....

So this isn't pretty or elegant, the way I tend to like to write, but it gets the point across.
Here's a recap of the past few days in a nutshell (here goes!):
Monday - Full day of last minute errands, ice cream with the sisters, hugs, good-byes, a drive to Portland, a late night pedicure from my mother, and bed finally at 12:30.

Tuesday morning -
 4:30 AM- Wake up. Shower. Get everything in the car.
6:15 AM - Listen dumbfounded as the lady behind the United Airlines desk tells me that she cannot allow me to get on the plane unless I have a visa, a return ticket, or a letter from the organization I'm going with. Mind you, I did a lot of research on getting a visa before this conversation ever happened.
6:20 AM - Massive prayer text to many, Facebook message to Genti. Phone call from Geni.
6:50 AM - A new random lady comes, warns me that they may not let me into the country, and gives me a ticket. I leave and get on the plane!
Wednesday morning-
7:45 - Wake up. Realize the plane is landing. This is really happening!
8:30 AM - Deboard plane. Get lost in Munich airport. Wander around hopelessly.
10:00 AM - Find service center. Put backpack and guitar in storage. Get train map. Look for train. Need food and water.
10:10 - Find train. Board train. Get off at wrong exit.
10:15 - Wander around for a bit. Realize I'm wandering along senior center road. Not what I wanted. Turn back. Attempt to buy food at a mini store. Store is closed. Oops.
10:45 - Get back on the train. Decide to listen to the advice of the man at the service desk. Head into city.
11:15 - Arrive in Munich. Wander around. Enjoy staring at the giant clocktower with dancing Dutch-like figures. Enjoy the market. Buy chocolate. Have lunch. Listen to strange musicians. Get back on train.
4:20 Depart for Pristina.
6:15 Arrive in Pristina! (They let me in, in case you're wondering). Meet the Salius in person. Drive to Gjilan. Meet Nesha and Geni and see my new home...which is HUGE, I might add. I was expecting an itty bitty apartment, but this is very spacious.

Thursday - Meeting with Geni and Soni and Genti and Linda and Nesha. So fun getting to know them. Errands to run. Get my phone hooked up. Near heart attack upon seeing the size difference of my sim card to theirs. Thankfully, the fellas at the phone store knew how to fix that. Breathing again. Lunch with Nesha. Met my sweet, sweet landlords, Ramiz and Suffit. We communicated with a lot of hand signal and smiles and laughs. They fed me. Nesha and I showed each other pictures of our families, hers in Albania, mine in Oregon.

Friday - Prayer. Some grocery shopping. Music playing. Loooong nap. Real Change! Met a lot of wonderful people that I am excited to get to know. Crazy fun night at youth group, most of which I didn't understand. But that's okay, I will soon.

Well....there you have it. This week has been you know, kinda sorta maybe a little bit eventful.

Slow and Steady Wins the Race, eh?

Well things are coming along slowly but surely, but they're coming! I'm getting really close to buying my plane ticket. This week, I think! I've had some very generous offers from quite a few people.

A friend, who has a roofing business, has offered to donate a large percentage of the profits from a roofing job. If there's anyone who would like a new roof and to help a good cause, please let me know! Another lady, who I actually haven't even met, has offered to throw me a jewelry party to help raise money. I also have a fundraiser in the works for July 27th. So stay tuned, I'd love if you'd get involved in one way or another!

I'm amazed and blessed by the generosity of so many people. I sometimes get overwhelmed by how far I have to go, but I know that God is in this and God has NOT given me a spirit of fear but of power, love, and a sound mind. So thank you, everyone has blessed me with prayers, words of encouragement, and love.

And if it's on your heart to donate, you can send a tax deductible donation to:

Mission Church
2221 NE 3rd ST.
Bend, OR
97702

PLEASE put Kosovo Arts Project in the memo and not my name.

Or you can donate online here.

Thank you all!
Love,
Katelyn

Revisiting some truth

I found this tonight...and re-read it. Oh, how timely is this! My circumstances are a little different, but my heart is in the same place...striving, worry, fear. And the Lord's response is still the same. Written over a year and half ago, it's as applicable as if I wrote it yesterday. So let's revisit some truth...

February 28, 2011

Go Figure


I sometimes refer to myself as "one who is professional at freaking at things that I shouldn't freak out about." Tonight, this staunch career was in full force as I mentally wrestled with an overloaded mind (making sleep incredibly elusive.) An overbooked schedule, work, school, Bible studies, worship meetings, future school, travel, how to make money for travel, plans, thoughts, ideas...and a sore throat all plagued my throbbing noggin. As I lay in a tub of steaming water (I had to calm myself down somehow!), I felt the Holy Spirit whisper, "Is all this really your responsibility?"

"Yes, God." was my snippy response, "If I don't take care of all this, who will?"

Once more, "Katelyn, is all this really your responsibility?"

When He asks questions again, that generally means my answer was wrong the first time. However, never one to be easily dissuaded: "I'm not sure You understand, I have to do all this stuff. I have to have it figured out. I have to have a plan!"

"Oh? And all this is your responsibility, is it? And just where do I fit in?"

"Well...umm..." I stuttered mindlessly for a moment. He waited while I fumbled for words, before speaking, ever so tenderly.

"Don't you trust that I can take care of you? And I don't actually need your help."

I wanted to argue on about my responsibility and how I needed to take care of things, but I was starting to see that it was pointless. After all, this is the Creator of the Universe. I guess it makes sense when He tells me that He doesn't actually need my help. Go figure.

In my mind, I saw a picture of huge storehouses of wealth--filled with way more money and resources than I could even imagine. And I heard the Holy Spirit whisper, "Just ask. All of these resources are at your fingertips. All you have to do is ask."

I've been freaking out about how on earth I'm going to pay my bills and get to Europe and pay for school and all of the traveling I want to do unless I work 70 hours a week for the next six months (in addition to school and ministry), all the while forgetting that my Dad has all the resources in the world. Literally. And when I'm walking with Him, He'll make a way, He'll open doors, and He'll provide all that I need. Oh, and He doesn't actually need my help. 

Go figure.

Hebrews 4:16

"Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."

Luke 11:8-10

 "Ask and it shall be given to you, seek and you shall find, knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks the door is opened."

Philippians 4:19

And My God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus."