Antioch - Finding Myself at Home

The dorms emptied out as students traveled home for the weekend.  Silence strung from the halls like pendants forgotten by the wind.  It was an average Saturday morning in Kokernot Hall.

Gathering my laundry, a small pan, bread and an egg, I expertly balanced the load on my way to the basement.  Laundry sorted and deposited in quarter-fed machines, I popped the bread in the toaster and went about making myself an egg sandwich.

About the time I had placed egg between toast, a familiar face appeared around the corner.  Heather, the RA from the third floor, was also on a breakfast mission.  When she had prepared her meal she invited me up to her room to hang out.

Being an introvert and a bookworm, I didn’t get out of my dorm much freshman year.  The RA on my hall didn’t seem to stick around many weekends, so Heather took me in as one of her hall kids.  I often found myself drinking tea and chatting away a Saturday morning with this outgoing junior in her beautiful loft room.

Conversations with Heather ranged from processing the oddities of southern culture (we were both Yankees) to my search for a good church.  

"What do you want to be when you 'grow up'?" she asked.  To answer her question I shared about my experience two years prior in Russia, and my hopes of serving there in the future.

“You need to meet my friend, Michele Perry,” Heather encouraged me.  “She is serving as a missionary in Bangladesh right now, but will be back this spring.”

Heather shared stories of this passionate young woman who loved God and would go anywhere to make Him known, regardless of being born without her left leg.  The more I heard about this awe-inspiring woman, the more I wanted to meet her.

Christmas vacation eventually came and passed.  A week into my second semester I went upstairs to Heather’s room to catch up.  Oh, how disappointed I was to discover that Heather had not returned for the spring semester!  I would dearly miss this precious young woman and our Saturday talks.  And now how was I to find her friend?  The young missionary’s name had slipped from my memory over Christmas vacation.

God is good at working out those kinds of details.

My spring semester schedule included an environmental studies class that met twice a week on the opposite end of campus, a good 20-minute walk from Kokernot Hall.  The first day my class gathered at the environmental studies building, I noticed a girl come into the room walking with the aid of crutches, missing her left leg.  Could this be the missionary Heather had told me about?

Winters in Waco are not what I would have called ‘cold’, at least not my first year out of the north.  They are, however, often wet, with a mist-like rain that cuts through every layer you are wearing.  A few weeks into the semester the weather was especially foul. 

I had just recently introduced myself to Michele, and she was, in fact, Heather’s friend.  Michele drove to class and that day watching my futile attempts to dodge the miniscule raindrops she offered me a ride home.  I readily took her up on the offer, both thankful for a warm ride back to campus and for an opportunity to get to hear Michele’s stories from southeast Asia.

“You see, Carrie, God knew He was going to planning to take me to places like India and Bangladesh.” Michele explained as she blasted the heater in an attempt to dry the icy moisture out of our clothing.  “That is why He chose for me to be born in Florida.”

Michele’s personality certainly was sunny enough to be from Florida!  Her joy warmed both the car and her passenger, defying the gray mist falling outside.

“I’m from Minnesota,” I replied, “so I don’t really mind the cold too much.”

“Well, God must have made you for Siberia!” she declared.

I burst into astonished giggles.  This girl didn’t know me from Adam, but she jokingly had declared that God must be planning to send me to the one place on earth I most hoped He would.

Michele offered to take me to another part of campus to get coffee and to share stories.  Not having another class until much later that day I eagerly accepted her offer.

Sipping on something warm, Michele shared stories about her time in Bangladesh.  In the middle of her tales, she asked if I was doing anything the next weekend, and would I like to join her for a missions conference.  Absolutely!

A week later, Michele drove me half an hour north to Latham Springs Campground for World Mandate 1998.  I had never been surrounded by so many people my own age who wanted nothing less than to make Jesus famous around the world.  There had to be nearly 200 of us!  The weekend flew by as missionary after missionary shared stories from around the globe, and as Highland Baptist’s young college minister, Jimmy Seibert, filled us with vision to join these sold-out laborers in unreached corners of our planet.

I felt at home and wished the weekend could stretch into weeks.  Soon, I discovered that the college ministry that put on World Mandate also ran a mission trip to Juarez, Mexico every spring.  I had not yet made plans for spring break and already knew I liked mission trips so I didn’t need any convincing.  I showed up at the first training for the trip a couple weeks later, and soon found myself a part of this beautiful college ministry with a strong heart for the nations.  A couple years later Highland Baptist Church birthed Antioch Community Church.  This church home has become for me a precious family of like-minded lovers of God who are making Jesus famous as He is worthy of all over the planet.

{I don't seem to have pics of Michele or any of the early Mandates, but here are some Juarez photos for any who want to reminisce. Enjoy!}

Juarez, Mexico

Can you see me? Juarez Team - 1999

Dance team - Juarez, Mexico - 2004

Worship at the Cathedral - Juarez, Mexico - 2004

Grad school Lifegroup - Juarez, Mexico - 2004

Juarez, Mexico - 2005

Yield Signs - part 1

"In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps."  Proverbs 16:9

Has God ever told you to do something that you didn't want to do?  Generally, I think this kind of direction comes to us in small ways: a nudge to show a stranger an act of kindness at your own expense, conviction to own up to a fault, His gentle whisper leading you to stop rushing around and focus on the ones you love.  These little places of obedience that cut against the grain of our flesh can be relatively common.  But sometimes God will lead you in a life direction that you would not have chosen for yourself.  Surprised, you find God's plans for your life unexpectedly diverging from the path you had intended to follow.  You know you are hearing His voice, you are confident of His direction, but yielding requires picking up your cross.

These are the testing points in our journey.  Who will I trust more: God or myself?  The first time I remember pushing back against the direction of the Lord came shortly after beginning college.

Freshman year at Baylor surpassed my expectations.  My classes were enjoyably challenging. New friends with interests and beliefs complementing my own made for an exciting social life.  And Texas!  I felt so at home here and more free to be my bouncy and bubbly self than I had in my home state up north.  All of these aspects of my new life were thrilling!  But despite such a great start, I found my soul impatiently tapping its invisible foot.  Hadn't God called me into missions?  College looked like it was going to take far too long.

That Christmas I visited with a friend attending a Bible school.  She, like I, had been led toward missions by God when we were in high school.  She would be finished with school in two years and be released into ministry soon after.  Perhaps I had missed God on His direction.  I started making new plans, if only subconsciously.  Perhaps I could drop out of college, attend a 2-year Bible school to get focused training to be a missionary, and be out the door to Russia by summer of 2001.  Perfect!

The following month, back at Baylor, I attended a missions conference and the questions stirring inside broke out in a frustrated cry.  "Lord, am I following You the right way?  Did You really plan for me to go to school for four more years?  It feels like such a waste of time.  I could attend a 2-year Bible school and be on the mission field in a few years.  Wouldn't that be better?"  

Instead of redirecting me as I had hoped, the Lord lovingly and firmly spoke His answer into my soul: "It will not be four years, Carrie.  It will be eight." The words sank deep into my soul.  I had never heard God speak so clearly.

Eight years?!  I couldn't fathom waiting that long.  Wasn't the need for laborers pressing?  And what was I going to do that whole time, anyway?  Four years of college, I assumed, and then what?  I didn't like what I heard, but along with the word about His timing Abba gave me grace to believe this really was His voice.

Sometimes God is crystal clear, but our muddy minds immediately misinterpret what He has told us.  Such would be the case for me.

Interestingly, moments before my bold exchange with Heaven's King, a missionary shared with the conference attendees stories about the follies of running to the mission field too early.  She painted a picture of men and women unprepared for the difficulties of life overseas and the challenges of cross-cultural ministry.  Anxious to do great works for God, or perhaps seeking an international adventure, these believers who ran heedless of the Lord's direction fell into difficulties that swallowed them up. They often broke to pieces emotionally or gave in to temptations that ruined not only themselves but the ones for whom they had left all to reach.  Perhaps it was to save me form this disastrous outcome that God was choosing to hold me back?  I was not certain of the why, but I was fully convinced that He was saying 'wait'.

So I began the process of learning to trust God with my heart and my dreams.  For the most part, I learned that my heart could rest in His during this time.  But five years later I would again find myself at odds with the Lord's direction for my life, and once more the subject would be my education.  

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.