Under a tree on a farm, I learned the truth of the old adage “Church is not a building.” Suddenly I began to feel excited and energized when I realized,  this was how my Savior used to have church all those thousands of years ago. Sunlight beaming through the trees, people moving around in the background, birds chirping everywhere, the beauty of our Heavenly Father’s creation amplifying everything. I have never felt closer to God than I did teaching those children stories from God’s word under those trees. He seemed to be right next to me whispering the words of those stories into my heart.  Ashe.

In a predominantly African-American 100-year-old church just off Jefferson St., I learned the power of history. I have the distinct pleasure of being close to one of the historians at the church. That’s right the church has historians, and she gave me a quick tour of the archives before we headed into service. For you to understand how amazing this is you need to understand the cultural significance. For African-Americans identity is everything. Lots of cultures can trace their family lines back for centuries, in general, we as African Americans do not have that gift. So, when we are given the opportunity to understand exactly who we came from and the significance of our story it is more than just important, for me, it is moving. It feels like a grandmother or grandfather handing you a locket or pocket watch that has been in your family for generations, it is a piece of your legacy.

I then had the pleasure to have my ears and heart anointed by a less tangible, but certainly not less effective part of that legacy, music. There was no worship team, no band, not a single musical instrument outside of human voices. One man walked to the pulpit and sang a line from a song, and with no hymnals in hand, I watched as a room full of people burst forth in the most beautiful harmonies. They wrapped me in the most familiar audio cacoon I’ve ever felt, and when it was over I emerged confident, strong, and loved. Worship there felt like being welcomed back to a home I never knew I had. Thank you Schader Lane Church.

Under a blanket of stars in an open field, I learned “darkness is as light to You.” We did this amazing exercise with the campers of Barefoot New Jersey called Carry Your Cross. It is exactly what it sounds like and it happened at night. Imagine six crosses being carried overhead by about six to twelve campers each in an open field where the only light is coming from the stars…that are thousands of miles away. Staff tried to light the way with cell phone flashlights, but even with dozens of them pointed at the ground no one could see more than a few feet ahead of them at a time. It was incredible. The darkness was so thick the light seemed only a small drop in a vast ocean. Now, I know darkness gets a bad name, but that night there was something so humbling about it. Only now do I realize what I think God was saying “You don’t need your eyes for this.” In hindsight, I wonder if all of the amazing, life-changing things that happened on that field would have happened if we had all been blinded by our eyesight. Sometimes it’s dark because God wants us to see something else. Since the only light was in the sky, to see I had to look up. If that’s not a message for life I don’t know what is.

On a sand paved path in the woods walking down to a lake, I pulled out my phone and texted my friends “Another day at the office.” It’s a funny little something to send friends so they know you’re alive and having fun, but that’s not why I sent it. I sent it because I wanted it to be true.  I come alive in nature. In ways that I never can behind a desk. So I want that for my life, to do work as my best self. Under trees and open sky. 

Canoeing on a lake with a middle-schooler as my co-pilot, I learned that to teach is to empower. In the quiet on that lake, which was ironically composed of crickets, birds, ores hitting the water and children laughing from far away, I learned the importance of background. In nature, like teaching, the attempt is to be unassuming. Like when you slowly pull your hand from the back of a bicycle until a child is peddling all by themselves. You let yourself fade into the background so that they can be the main focus.

And I don’t have time to talk about all the times I spent in tents or in church meeting rooms with in front of a group of campers with them teaching me more than I could ever teach them. Or the host homes I stayed in, and how each family taught me something about the spiritual gift of hospitality and what family looks, sounds, and acts like. Each of those places gave me a closer look at what is possible, and what I want in my own life. Place, like people changes perspective.

Allow me to paint a picture for you: you’re in a hot fellowship hall in the middle of a campsite surrounded by pre-teens, listening to a Cuban pastor rap the first half of his sermon while a group of South Korean chaperones translates the heart of the message to several students who have been in the states for less than 72 hours. Meanwhile, on the other side of the fellowship hall, other camp leaders are translating the message to Spanish for campers from Guatemala and Nicaragua. Now, I know what you’re thinking, “Ina, that sounds overwhelming!” Very true, but do you know what I see when I look back? Relationships. People striving to connect with each other so that together we could connect to God. Full disclosure, at that moment it felt messy, confusing, time-consuming and extremely uncomfortable. But later, when campers who barely spoke the same language as us came up to hug and thank the staff for making them feel welcome, it all became crystal clear. The struggle, or rather the striving is what makes it so beautiful, and if it was beautiful to me think of how it must look to our Heavenly Father!

A room full of people all seeking God’s heart, that’s amazing! But the cost of a moment like this; sweat, exhaustion, disagreements with new friends and loads of other things that make you consider if it will all be worth it in the end. Spoiler alert: IT ABSOLUTELY WILL BE.

I think it is a common practice of human beings to be afraid of the unknown, but what I have learned this summer is that there is so much to be excited about when you’re standing on that precipice not knowing what’s out there. It is the beginning of everything you don’t know yet, but may one day learn. The beautiful beginning of friendships, the moments before those complete strangers become your family and friends.

When you grow with people who are different than you through Spirit-filled disagreements about how we each see the world the blinders of what’s best for me fall away. Suddenly it isn’t just me on an island of me, but a whole wide world of us. If we step outside of ourselves and truly search deeper than just “I don’t like this,” or “I don’t understand this,” and begin to ask ourselves “Why don’t I,” the answers are so tremendous and wonderful. The insights gained from uncomfortable interactions help us gain a better understanding of our neighbors’ hearts and, in that, maybe God’s heart as well.

This summer I had the amazing gift of praising God in new places, new ways, and with new people. Under trees, in a church where the only the music was the congregation’s voice, in Fellowship halls, in rustic cabins in the woods, and around campfires—I had the privilege of worshipping with people who look nothing like me and some who don’t even speak the same language as I do. I learned so much more about God through all of these new experiences than I ever thought possible. The most amazing thing I discovered about the gift of diversity is how much God is revealed through it. Everything that is different shows me some different aspect of His character, some beautiful soft or loud aspects of Himself that I may not have seen if I stayed where I was comfortable.

I served at a camp called Barefoot this summer, their mission is racial reconciliation and diversity, and one of the most amazing things I learned was based on this summer’s theme, To BeLonged For (see Isaiah 43:1). The theme centers around the fact that we belong to God, and also that He longs for us as human beings. One morning during worship, our speaker said something that has echoed in my spirit ever since: “Not only do we belong to God, we belong to each other.” That blows my mind because it means that when we care for and show love to each other we care for and show love to God as well. We’re connected. It made me want to learn more about my family in Christ. Where do they live? What languages do they speak? How do they view God? What are the insights I am missing that they already have? How can we be keys that unlock the hearts of the people around us? Suddenly the world doesn’t seem intimidating. Big, yes, but nothing to be afraid of. Instead, there’s a whole wide world of people to love, a whole wide world full of brand new insights and ideas and creativity and ways to love God.

In the next few entries, I am going to talk about the gifts of the whole wide world that God has shown me this summer. People—which is really relationship, place, and how profound an effect it can have on our understanding of who God is—and the now, the importance of being right where you are while you are there. I look forward to sharing what I  have learned so far and to see how God uses it to bless both you and me.

Braver still to be loved. 1 Corinthians 13

Sometimes I do really messy things, which make for really messy situations. The last thing I want to do is invite someone to come and play in my mess. But this is what real life requires. If every person waited to be cleaned up to connect with other people the whole world would be alone. In fact, I think this is probably one of the reasons why so many people in the world are already so lonely. There is this line in my book The House We Built,

“She was saying, I don’t care if you’re broken, so long as you let me see who you really are.”

I have always loved that line because it doesn’t feel written by me so much as written for me. That is hard to do. To let someone see you not the image you want to project but the real you, blemishes and all. It is so much easier said than done. When I first thought about this idea “braver still to be loved” God brought to mind one of my favorite crushes. There was this guy in my French class in high school, about a year younger than me (of course that means so much in high school) and he had one of the most adorably intense crushes on me. I need you to understand how rare this is, I can count on one hand the number of people I am aware of that have had crushes on me. It was so foreign to me that for the first couple of weeks I almost thought he was playing some sort of prank on me.

I’d like to pause here to point out that my issue is not now, nor was it then, a lack of confidence. I understand that I am beautiful, both inside and out, but I don’t trust others to see it, or at least not in a romantic way. Maybe a better way to say this is I don’t trust men to value what they see, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

My not-at-all secret admirer says that he can draw, naturally I want proof, and of course it couldn’t hurt to come in the form of a flattering picture of yours truly. So we’re in French class, clearly not paying attention at all and he draws me. It took a good bit if not all of the class period, and I’m so excited. Ready to see me through his eyes. I’m fantasizing about how he’ll probably leave out my flaws and hand me a beautiful interpretation of some Nubian princess. He finishes and like any artist is nervous about my reaction to his work. He hands it to me and if fantasies can crash land, mine definitely did. It was a great drawing, very realistic, but it looked like…me. In fact, it looked like me on a not cute day, which of course is what I actually looked like that day; bundled, no flattering clothes, no makeup. “This is who you like?” I thought to myself.

I can’t remember what I said. I’m sure I tried very hard not to take away from his work with my vanity, but I was maybe 15 or 16 so I’m not sure I did that well.

When I think about it now it seems like such an important lesson. Do you expect people to love only a caricature of you? Or, do you trust others to see exactly who you are and fall in love with her? Not a version you try to project but the real, belch out loud, temper tantrum having work in progress you really are. You may be brave enough to love someone, but are you brave enough to be loved by someone, flaws and all?

I pray I am Lord, I want to be. And I pray that being loved by You will teach me how to love and be loved by others, unconditionally. In Jesus name, Amen.

*Read 1 Corinthians 13 again, only this time think about it in the context of being loved, not just loving others. How does that change your mind about God? About yourself?

I have always thought of hope as comfort one feels. Like an internal confidence in something or someone. An emotion. Lately, I have been so focused on not feeling hopeful that I forgot it means something else as well. Hope is not only a feeling but the object that grants assurance of that confidence.

For example, if a woman falls overboard on a ship she may have hope that she will be saved, but the life preserver thrown overboard is also her hope. You see, hope as a feeling and as an object.

I forget that too easily. That while the emotion may ebb and flow, as emotions do, the object of my hope never does. Provided the object of my hope is my God I have what the hymns refer to as a “Blessed Assurance” because “Jesus is Mine.” So like that woman struggling in the water, I can see my preserver floating closer to me with every wave. Even if I can’t touch it just yet the assurance of it’s coming comforts me.

I recently watched The Case for Christ and I feel like a skeptic. I learned that having Faith and living it are two different things. Am I living with the certainty and hope I profess to have? Or am I timidly praying in solitary rooms, hoping that those voiceless prayers will be enough?

For all the doubt that Lee Stroble had, his doubt took more action than my faith I think. At least he was moving, at least he did something to pursue the truth. Is my faith alive with movement, or dead without works?

Heavenly Father I am so glad that You answer our prayers of doubt and fear even when they aren’t asked with integrity. You love us first, last, and always, which You made evident when You sent your Son into this world to die for us. I don’t know what comes next for me either Lord God, but I want to be present and all-in for it. Let my faith take action I pray Lord, in Jesus name, Amen.

Dear students,

I want you to know I see something in you. Something divine. A fire that will burn away the lies we’ve worshiped as true. I see in you a deep intolerance for falsehood. Somewhere deep down you know you deserve the best. Use that knowledge to push each other to be better. Compete to see who can solve the problem most absolutely and the fastest. When there is a winner celebrate with them, don’t punish them for doing what you could not. Teach each other, learn from each other and from our mistakes.

When you create acknowledge your sources. It is true nothing is new, but the bonds you forge will be, and the only way you’ll keep them is by fortifying them with the truth. Make your own mistakes, mine were for me. They taught me and helped me grow so I could teach my lessons to you. Repeating them now would be redundant and life is too short for that. Love with tenacity, audacity, hope, and patience. Remember the seed is growing, but underground first.

I love you dear ones. Know that you are our most prized possession.

Ms. Ina

Growing up is hard. No one ever prepares you for what the scars try to turn you into; angry, bitter, afraid. I think the worst for me is numb. When you can’t feel anything at all good or bad. You can’t even tell you’re turning into a monster because you can’t feel any of the prongs and pricks that warn you. You spend so much time thinking “it’s them, they’re after me, out to get me even” when all along it’s you. You are, we are, I am the problem. So afraid you were raising your gun I fired mine. So afraid I’ll be left out I isolate and push others away. The truth is I need you, but I’m afraid of you too. You punch so hard. I know you’re just doing what I’m doing, trying to protect yourself. But why can’t we just say that? Recognize that we are not the enemy, these reckless feelings are. Why can we never just love instead of fight? Care more for each other than our own pride. We need that.

This song by Jason Gray has been essential in helping me recognize when I am pulling away from those I need most. It helps me laugh at myself and the absurdity of believing I can live this life alone. I hope it helps you.

Come find me. Come into the crowd of my people and search for me. Come boldly for I am quiet and unassuming. I may need your voice as my own. Come with an open mind, I am probably not how you pictured me. Come broken, beaten, bruised, forgotten, ashamed, unwanted, tired and unfinished, only come. That is all that matters to me. After all, you will never find me in your own home.