Yield Signs - Part 2

Large snowflakes floated sleepily outside the library window as I wrote away in a new journal.  Each page captured memories and ideas in ink as I reminisced on the previous four years and dreamed about the future.  My bachelor's program had stretched into a fifth year as I combined degrees in geology and Slavic studies.  My college experience had been marvelous, and I had loved every bit, that was until the spring of 2001.  An upper level math course and a graduate level geology course pushed me to the brink of my capabilities, and though I exerted a commendable effort in both, I barely scraped by with two passing grades.  Thankfully, the following semester offered a reprieve.  As part of the Slavic studies degree I was now attending a university in Voronezh, Russia through an exchange program.

Christmas break found me visiting friends in Berlin, and I spent a couple days of my vacation asking Abba about His plans for me for the next year.  Well, asking wouldn't be exactly the right word.  I was actually telling the Lord what I planned to do following graduation in May.  I intended to attend a missions training school with my church, and then go... um... somewhere.  Probably somewhere in the former Soviet Union.  I wanted to join Lifewater, a water relief group and apply my two degrees simultaneously, helping villages obtain a safe drinking water source while sharing the good news of Jesus and starting churches across the Central Asian steppe.  I was ready!  It was time!  I was burnt out with school and had waited 'long enough'.  And my little, weary soul wished to discuss no alternatives.

The Lord's beautiful, familiar voice sounded crest-fallen as He responded to my declaration.  He didn't tell me 'no', I suppose because I wasn't looking for His permission to embark on this adventure.  Instead, He simply shared with me some of the wonderful things and some of the harder things that lay ahead of me on the road I was choosing.  That is, choosing without Him.  Since the early days when I had first learned to hear God's voice, I had grown accustomed to running all of my plans by Him.  I never purposefully avoided asking the Lord what He wanted me to do, especially when it came to important life decisions.  Now I discovered what happened in our relationship when I cut Him out of the decision making process.  I broke His heart.

My worn out soul flinched, but then regrouped and grew harder.  I didn't care what He had to say about it or how He felt.  I already had an idea of what Abba really wanted for me, and it was the last thing I wanted to consider.  So I dug in my heels and intended not to budge.

Returning to the States in January I eventually found myself in conversation with my hydrogeology professor, Dr. Joe Yelderman.  We were discussing my plans following graduation.  I shared with Dr. Joe how I hoped to join a water relief organization as a missionary.  This particular professor is a true lover of Jesus and was immediately supportive of my direction.  He shared with me that two of his former students had gone overseas to do the same type of work, supplying villages with safe drinking water.  Then the question I had been internally dodging was posed.  Had I considered obtaining a master's degree in hydrogeology?  Both of these former students discovered that effectively helping people obtain access to clean water meant they needed more of a knowledge base than they had obtained in their bachelor courses.  I cringed inside. 

Politely I replied that I had not yet considered this path and that I hoped to get to the mission field within the next year or two.  Dr. Joe then wisely advised me to contact the organization that I wished to join to ask them what kind of course work I would need to best help them, and concluded by encouraging me to pray about it before making any decisions.

Ugh.  I had purposefully been avoiding praying about this subject.  But Dr. Yelderman's words rang with wisdom.  What could it hurt to contact Lifewater and ask them if my current course work gave me enough background to help them with their mission overseas?

The next day I sent an email to Lifewater International.  Lifewater specializes in training teams in developing nations how to provide clean water for villages coupled with training in hygiene and sanitation.  Proudly, I listed out geology course work that I thought applicable and shared with them my heart to join their work.  The very next day I had received a reply.  They were thankful for my interest: did I know how to choose a location for a well to be drilled?  If not, would I please consider continuing with my studies and obtaining a master's degree?

Wow.  Nope.  I had no idea how to set a well.  I actually had never drilled one before.  My arrogance and pride dissolved with the realization that I really didn't know all that much, even after 5 years of college.

"Abba, I guess I'm ready to talk about grad school.  I am sorry I have refused to talk with You about it up till now."

Oh, our God is so good!  He truly is kind, compassionate and quick to forgive!  Suddenly the Lord was washing me with the truth that He wanted to help me get through grad school and that He would teach me wonderful things during my master's program.  He was excited for me!  It wasn't going to be as hard as the previous year.  And I was actually going to enjoy it!

Truly, my three years of graduate studies far surpassed my undergraduate experience!  And God used the time to also draw me into the sweetest season I had experienced with Him up to that point.

The eight years God had spoken to me about so clearly freshman year turned out to be eight years of school to the month!  My dreams, though resting on God’s shelf that whole time, had grown into a beautiful future filled with more possibilities than I could have imagined coming into Baylor.  And my relationship with the Lord was far deeper and sweeter than when I had begun. 

Would He now send me to the nations? Or did He have another plan in mind?  Either way, the lesson had been learned and my soul knew that it could rest secure in the truth: His ways are so good and obedience is always worth it!

Awake, oh sleeper! - part 2

University!  Remember the excitement of moving away from home and starting up life as your own person?  Perhaps the random bits of culture shock from those days still bring a smile to your face. Or the dread of having to decipher the dials on the ancient coin-fed laundry machines as you washed your clothes in an unfamiliar laundromat.  Or the sudden wonder at meeting an old acquaintance on campus where you thought you didn't know a soul.

Becoming a Bear!

For me, most of those new experiences centered on the marching field.  Three months following my graduation from Brooklyn Center High School in Minnesota, I could be found with 100 other students rehearsing formations under the merciless August heat of Central Texas.  New friendships formed and sweat poured off freshmen and seniors alike as the 1997 Baylor University Golden Wave Marching Band prepared for football season.

The dreams of 1995 were still marching around in my heart.  I dove into my class work with passion, knowing that the Russian language, Slavic history, and science courses each played a vital role in preparing me to join the work of proclaiming Jesus in the former Soviet Union.  With the same zeal I sought out a church where I could continue to grow in my newly blossoming faith.  High school had shown me the importance of community, and I knew that if God brought me across the country to give me an education, He certainly had a fellowship in mind with whom I would grow spiritually.

It would be another five months before I found my church home.  Highland Baptist Church, which started Antioch Community Church two years later, reminded me of the people I had worked alongside on my trip to Tyumen, Russia.  This fellowship worshiped 'in Spirit and in truth' and carried a brilliant passion for the nations to know Jesus.  I was honored that Abba had shuffled me their way.

Life beyond classwork filled up with fellowship, discipleship, and outreach as older believers challenged my friends and I to live out our faith.  Waco provided ample opportunities for learning to love, if one was willing to pop outside of the "Baylor Bubble".  Ministry to inner-city kids.  Half-night prayer meetings.  Joyful times of spontaneous worship  This was a beautiful season!  Antioch soon became my home away from home.

It would be with this new family that I again stepped into Siberia.  In July of 1999 a small contingency from the new Antioch worship team opened up their mission trip to Russia to any who wanted to love and serve alongside them.  With flute in hand I returned to the nation that had filled me with wonder, this time to eastern Siberia.

Team at Red Square in Moscow, Russia

Again I found myself immediately at home, building friendships that would last for years, and rediscovering the overwhelming love of God for those who do not yet know Him.  We began our journey in Irkutsk, on the western shore of breathtaking Lake Baikal.  At a picnic with Put k Istinye, the local Russian church, a girl joined us out of curiosity and a desire to practice English.  By the end of the day she had surrendered her life to the Lover of her soul.  And the rest of the week my friend and I spoke truth to her and began to teach her what it meant to be a disciple of Jesus.  This was why I was here!

Picnic with Путь к Истине, "Way to the Truth" church

Ladies from Путь к Истине, "Way to the Truth"

After ministering and making friends in Irkutsk for a week, we boarded a sleeper car on the Trans Siberian Railway bound for Ulan Ude.  This was my first train ride outside the United States, and I enjoyed soaking up every moment of it.  Laying down on the top bunk I watched the Taiga fly past our window in shadows and sunbeam-lit shades of green.  Soon we passed a village of perhaps 50 homes; wooden cottages with intricate, brightly colored shutters gave a break to the verdant display.  Soon the forest resumed its place.  Some time later another village emerged from behind the foliage, only to be swallowed up by the next stand of trees.  Again and again the same scene repeated.  And by the time the sun was slipping below the horizon a question rose up in my heart.

"Abba, who is going to these small places?  Is anyone remembering the villages?"  I could tell you of many believers making Jesus known in cities around the world, but did not personally know who was working among the 'least of these' when it came to remote locations.

As the dome lights inside our sleeper car overpowered the dwindling sunlight, I could no longer make out the forest beyond our window.  But my heart had been forever marked.

Quiet tears ran down my face and desperate pleadings for laborers filled my heart as the rhythm of the rocking train lulled me to sleep.  "If you don't have anyone, Abba, please send me."

And Abba drew near, caught my tears, and listened.

Awake, oh sleeper! - part 1

Dreams.  I hope you have one or two.  I hope they are bigger than you.  And I hope you have not given up on them.

Dreams ~ Photo take at St. Basil's
Cathedral Moscow, Russia 1999

What did you want to be when you were 5?  When you were 12 what did you imagine yourself becoming?  At 18, with your first steps into adulthood, in which direction had your dreams pointed you?

May I share my dreams with you?  It is my joy to do so - for this is a story of dreams coming true.  And the amazing thing is, more of them keep being added to my "about to check off the bucket list" list.

The road to these realizations has been long.  Many dreams were added along the way, like pretty pebbles picked up along the beach.  I wasn't always certain what would become of them.  Sometimes pebbles stay in your pocket.  Later they fall out in the wash.  Then they get picked up and put on a shelf.  They look pretty, but are they useful?  Will they ever become something more than a hoped for destiny?

My dreams probably began earlier than I can remember.  According to my grandmother I wanted to be a missionary when I was 6 years old.  Sometimes we forget our dreams.  God is good at remembering what we forget.

My earliest memory of my dreams began on a lazy summer day in Brooklyn Center, Minnesota in 1995.  One month past my sophomore year found me busy reading the books I loved and delving into various artistic expressions.  As I worked away on some new craft while sitting on my bedroom floor, stories poured from my radio to fill up the silence.  A doctor was sharing about his experiences on his recent medical mission trip to Russia.  My ears perked up.  The Soviet Union had collapsed three short years before this, producing a sudden interest in all things Russian across our nation.  The change in the political climate of Moscow also provided me the opportunity to study Russian as my foreign language the previous 2 years.

I caught only a few more words as the doctor shared his story.  Now pictures were flooding my mind.  Faces of men, women, and children.  Faces that I had never seen with my own eyes burned their way into my soul.  I could identify them as being from the former Soviet Union.  And I found myself weeping.  They didn't know Jesus yet - they probably had rarely if ever heard His name.

Central Asian girls in Moscow

My own journey with Jesus was only a couple years old.  Although I had prayed to accept Him when I was six, it wasn't until I was 14 that I learned to talk with Him and discovered what it truly meant to follow Him.

My own recent beginnings with Jesus made me keenly aware of the dichotomy between life with and without Him.  And I found myself weeping over faces and hearts that had not yet had the chance to know this Lord who gave me Life.

Shaken and shocked by the experience, I sat on my pink and green rug hugging my knees.  "Jesus, they don't know You, do they?  Do You want me to go tell them?"  I had to get to Russia and find out what this was all about.

One year later I landed with a group of passionate teenagers in Tyumen, Russia, the 'gateway to Siberia'.  And I fell in love!  The taiga forest, the lakes and rivers all reminded me of Minnesota.  And the people!  God again filled me with love for these people I did not know but whom He had loved since the creation of the planet.

And what a joy to tell them about this life that I had found in Him, inviting them into joy and peace and relationship with the Father.  Little time-worn babushkas, rough construction workers, ladies who served us tea in their homes, farmers tending their potato fields, children playing on dilapidated jungle gyms.  All listened as we shared this good news of life in Jesus.  And although only a handful responded, they all got to hear!

Leaving Tyumen nearly broke my heart in two.  What do you do when you dive into a dream bigger than yourself, but have to leave before it is completed?  I was learning what it meant to put my dreams into the hands of the One who calls Himself the Beginning and the End.  But I also asked to come back.  Three summers would pass before I walked in Siberia again.