Beckon My Heart

(John 3:33, 35, 37)

I could read every one of your letters

And yet I wouldn’t know You.

I could utter Your name…

I used to…hunger and thirst

At Your feet; my heart would beat

With each longing for Your presence.

What happened to this fiery love,

So ravished by the desire You have for me?

But having forgotten Grace,

I have failed to seek Your face.

Remind me, Father, how You loved me,

How You called me, and never fail

To chase after, even when I have fallen

Far into the depths of doubt and hopelessness.

Be the joy that excites my soul,

Ignites a passion for the One who sought me first.

If there be any idols, crush them to dust

Like the golden calves of old. 

I am, because He Is.  Nothing else can satisfy.

Sovereign Lord, I worship You.

Beckon my heart,

Beckon my heart, God.

Beckon my heart,

Beckon my heart back to You. 

Fairest One of All

“Mirror, mirror on the wall: who is the fairest one of them all?”

            I have seen the Disney Snow White, and I also remember the lesson of how the queen was this evil woman plaguing the poor princess over her beauty.  Girls have grown up desiring to be adored as such princesses.  However, can I be completely honest?  I wonder how often we actually feel like the queen from the story, begging our reflection affirmation to our questions of worth.  I know that I have stared into the mirror, looked at different components of my face and body…and for the moment, I am satisfied.  I am content with what I see, and no barring thoughts from the outside hinder the joy.  That is…until I think about the differences between me and a friend, and thoughts of how much more she is – how much more wonderful and beautiful she is than me.

            It’s a disheartening cycle.  I have looked at myself and loved myself, and then hate certain features of my physical being.  And the summation I get from the total picture: because a part of me doesn’t fit the ideal perfection of a woman, my complete self is not worth loving.  It continues as I not only criticize my outward beauty, but the things inside of me, as well.  I have compared my interests with that of other ladies, and thought, “I am not woman enough. My talents aren’t enough- why should I try to use them?  Shouldn’t I dress up more often? I play too much with the boys; they would never find me attractive.” 

For those reading this, maybe this is such a staunch different tale you would expect to hear.  Especially from a Christian.  Girls are beautiful no matter what form.  Don’t I know that God has made me fearfully and wonderfully; that I am pleasant and a delight (Psalm 139: 14; Song of Solomon 7:6)?  Yes.  I know it.  At least in my head.  And there are times I know it in my heart as well.  There have been times that I was truly confident in the woman that God created me to be, as me.  There was a time I didn’t care what people thought about certain hobbies I had.  I knew that it was me, and I went out, fully alive.  So, what happened?  What happened to the little girl that was so confident in who God fashioned her to be, that she so often now struggles to see the beauty inside of her even for a little bit? 

It’s a daily thing where I have to combat the idea that I am not beautiful or worthy enough; I have to rebuke the thought that my gifts cannot benefit my community.   I wish I could remember that I have been etched from edge to edge.  How I have been wonderfully molded and crafted, and stitched with divine threads.  The alternative is so much worse.  Beating myself down emotionally, as well as physically at times (I dealt with some self-harm, because I had believed I was worthless.  I also remember not wanting to eat cheese and refused to drink more than half a glass of milk during high school and college, because I feared that I would gain weight, and lose any bit of beauty I hoped to have). 

Perhaps I am writing this post out of some form of therapeutic process.  Almost a quarter of a century, and there are still moments I look at my reflection in the mirror, and I am reminded of certain things that people have said to me. (I am also reminded of the lack of things said that were needed.) Whether or not they realized it, these words had a grave impact on how I see myself wholly as an individual and as a woman.  I am not trying to rehash the past and wallow in the subjugated hatred I have had for myself.  Rather, I am trying to figure out where I suddenly believed that I was less than who I am, and where can I start again seeing myself as my Father truly sees me.  Perhaps it’s just therapy, but I also know that I am not the only one who is prone to strain in front of the glass every morning.

  This idea of lacking in beauty is rooted in fear.  Fear that somehow we, as ladies, are not enough (or too much) to be a gift to the people around us. And in that belief, we curse ourselves.  We abuse (yes, abuse; the definition of abuse is to mishandle or mistreat) ourselves with disgusting, cursing, remarks.  Furthermore, we evidently share the message, discouraging other women in their beauty.  This seems to be less believable.  Women are so easily able to encourage the beauty in others while they simultaneously fail to see it in themselves. However, we can be the worst when it comes to comparisons.  And comparing we do…A LOT.  We size ourselves up- our physical features, our hobbies, talents, lives – to other women, and believe that she has it more together than we do. 

The truth is…she probably thinks the same thing about herself when she looks at you. And the sad part?  Writing that instinctively makes me feel better.  Because somehow, knowing that someone else is just as flawed as me means that I am ‘not that bad’. 

Dagnabit!  When are we going to rid ourselves of all this bull-crap?!  Seriously?  I am tired of focusing on the things (or the idea of it) that paint us as these flawed creatures.  As if God had screwed up while He was forming us.  I want to remember.  I want to remember the things God had put in me are good.  That the certain interests I have are not flaws, but wonderful aspects that beautify my life. Not that I am better than any other woman; but just different. How He formed my physical being – face, hair, shoulders, stomach, waist, hips, legs, and whatever else to fit in the list – no matter how they may change through the years – was also made perfectly. 

Recently, I was at a slumber party, and a couple of the girls did the others’ make-up and hair.  It was a lot of fun.  And it was hilarious to see my friends’ reaction as foundation, blush, something that contours my cheekbones and eyes was put on my skin.  I didn’t know what I would expect when I finally was able to look in the mirror after my ‘make-over.’  The girls did good.  In fact, I looked FI-INE.

But something interesting also happened.  As much as I liked what I saw in the mirror, I missed what I looked like without it.  I think what did it was my freckles.  They were pretty covered up – and I LOVE my freckles.  As I took off the make-up before bed, I realized that I preferred myself as I am.  That indeed I was created beautifully with the features God already designed me with.  (Disclaimer:  This story is not to tell girls to not wear make-up.  This is just to relate how God gave me confidence in who I am.  If you love to wear make-up to feel beautiful, then do so.  And thank you ladies for the fun that night.)

Do you have a story like this?  I hope you do, and if not, that you are able to find one soon.  Remembering our beauty takes an active effort.  I usually have to write certain things down, and stories like these are worth noting.  What are the beautiful aspects of your life?  What is the wonderful hobbies and talents you have?  Use them!  Does a painter paint the same piece of work?  Not at all.  Each time he does, he develops a new vision to transform his canvas. We each have been made differently, but that does not determine a measure of beauty lesser or greater than the next.  Just different.. You truly have been wonderfully made, and you have been specifically designed in such a way that no other person can fill what you can do.  You are a beautiful, beyond all comparison and measure.  Priceless. 

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?”

Each and every one of us.

Why I Can't Go Back to My Hometown

My teaching contract wasn’t renewed, and with that a door was closed.  I was advised to go back to my hometown, live with my family, go back to school to hone in my skills as a teacher and de-stress.  Allow myself to recuperate after such a hard year of teaching.  It certainly was the original plan.  I remember moving into my apartment before the school year, and feet digging into the ground, told all my friends that I would be back as soon as possible.  There was a part of me that wanted this door to close.  However, things have changed since.

School has been out for a month already, and I haven’t gone back to Missoula.  And I don’t know when I will visit, because I have decided to stay on the Rez and serve with my church.  In the month of June, I was a camp counselor at Indian Youth Camp, and later, helped out at Vacation Bible School.  I found a place here, and am content.  Yes, content.  I may live in a place where it is known to be dire, but it is home.  And I want God to move in it.  I am excited for my people, and I desire that they would come to know Jesus.

            And I am not satisfied leaving my home as I have seen it.  I know the reputation that my reservation has.  Drugs, alcoholism, gambling, poverty.   Men on average only live to their 60s (and to put that in perspective, the rest of Americans are living into their 80s; my own father is 60 years old, and could go at least 25 more.)  There is an issue of diabetes and other health problems.  Teen pregnancy is also an issue.  I get it.  When you think of the ideal place to find a dream job, get married and have a family, this wouldn’t be on the Top Ten List.  One of my friends would tell you that I survived my teaching year.  That there were moments I wasn’t functioning well.  And though I try to deny it, truth is, she’s probably right.  So, why the heck have I decided to stay on the Rez?  Because in the midst of all the pain, I found a people beautiful, and worth loving and fighting for, because God already ultimately has.  John 3:16 is one of the first verses I memorized, and as I live here, it continues to remind me why I should stay here.  “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son that whoever believes in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”  God loves…the WORLD, and that includes the Native people of America.  With all the things that happen on the reservations, I have also met a people beautiful and desired by God.  I realize that my skin tone doesn’t match, and cultures are different, but I do claim these people as my own.  God has fought for them, and I want to as well. 

I know that it would be easier to leave.  It would be more comforting to go back to Missoula and my old friends and life. However, there is a draw to not walk away, no matter how hard it may be.  By the end of the school year, though I wasn’t going to be full-time teaching, I still desired for this people to know Christ.  I wanted to assist my community from a ministry aspect.  When I told a Christian co-worker that, his reply was, “There are other reservations where it’ll be easier to minister.”

May I be frank with you?  Prepare for a bit of a rant.

No offense to my co-worker; and to other reservations – for they too need Christ – but when was ministry ever supposed to be easy?  When was reaching out to the lost supposed to be such a breeze that there was nothing to worry about, that we knew that every situation was going to be perfect?  There is a devil that hates my people, and he will do anything to destroy them; there is a God who created and loves my people, and He fought back, giving up His own life so that they could be saved.  Ministry is not going to be easy.  On that note, I am not saying that I dared God to give me the hardest people to serve, however, I am where I am.  And how can I turn away from them, when I know that they need to meet Jesus still?  How can I leave when my eyes have been opened to their depravity?  I cannot; and I dare not.  Perhaps I am here for such as a time as this.  Perhaps God knew, despite how crazy it seemed at first, that He knew He could use this vessel named Laura to share His Gospel in a unique way. 

It’s exciting to think about how much God loves my people here, and how much He is willing to chase after them so that they may know Him as their Father who saved them.  I know that I can’t do it on my own.  Yes, there are giftings and talents I have, and I am finding that they are needed now more than ever, but anything I do outside of a dependence on God will fail.  I had learned a lot from this past year.  In the case of teaching, I learned what not to do; what things actually work.  I learned how to adapt to another culture, and be flexible in learning as much as educating.  I also learned about myself, and learned that above all else, that God is my strength and my safety net.

Before I moved out here, I had everything I needed and wanted.  My parents were my economic stability.  Friends were nearby that I could count on them to talk about pertinent issues.  But, when I first moved out here, I was physically alone.  There were staff members who made up my neighbors, but I was often alone lesson-planning and didn’t socialize in the six days of the week before church.  The main person I could only count on was God.  There were moments that I tried to do things out of my own strength.  I could tell you now that I had faltered, became discouraged and depressed.  I had resorted to some destructive behavior, and it’s sad to admit that.  However…However, when it comes to the end of it all, when I ran to Jesus with my heart, He carried me.  He healed my heart, picked me up, and encouraged me to go on.

The biggest reason why I do not want to move back to my hometown is because it was too comfortable a place to fully depend on God.  I had everything I could ever want or need – but it didn’t necessarily include God.  If I was completely honest, growing up, I leaned more on my family and friendships. Do I want to know that I’m a good teacher?  Be able to work in a place where I know that I am making a positive and effective difference?  Yes.  But if I were to go back to Missoula, or to any comforting, relatable place, I fear that I would once again become dependent on my own abilities, rather than in the power of my Father.

However, here on the Rez…in my new home, I fully realize that I can do NOTHING without Christ.  With the different cultural contexts, with the historical background (and the unfortunate racism that does still exist), with the living contexts of many of the people here, it looks like an impossible situation.  I am not the right person, and things could totally be over my head.  In the natural, this is a foolish idea for me to stay out on the Rez.  I must be throwing away my life.  And I would be, if God wasn’t in the equation.  But you see, God has a vast picture of what He wants for my people, and I get to witness what He is going to do.  In addition, I have learned to fully rely on my Abba.  It has been in these instances that the greatest things have occurred, His glory was more so proclaimed, because I allowed myself to trust that He would come through (and He did!).

I know that family and friends from Missoula miss me.  I miss them too.  But if I could ask anything, it would be that they do not long for me, as I know that I am where I am needed to be.  “For such as a time as this,” right?  God has created each and every one of us, and designed us in the specific places, with the specific people we are with so that in the end Jesus Christ’s name will be made known.