clap

CHOSEN {year 5} launched on Saturday, September 15. We had 26 teens in attendance alongside 22 mentors - our largest kick-off by a landslide. As they walked through the door, one after another, I was awestruck by the goodness of our God. I often flashback to that very first club…we had seven teens in total and I was beaming with excitement because God had answered our prayer - SOMEONE had come - this thing was actually happening. 

Oh yes, it happened and it has continued to grow and flourish into something I celebrate with wonder.

This year CHOSEN is taking on new obstacles and challenges, stepping up to grow and become yet again. I could cower beneath the weight of it and feel uncomfortable and ill-equipped. OR I can say yes to being a champion for JESUS and LOVE and wanting to step into hard places, to be light in darkness. I am choosing the later with boldness and courage. I am choosing to be brave. This year we have a transgender teen who is so very dear to us - who has been part of the family since age 7. I am learning to navigate from so many perspectives…first and foremost I love Jesus, secondly I am working in a mission field with teens who do not know Christ, while serving on a church campus, and finally leading a group of mentors who are all in really different places with their ability to engage or even wrestle with the topic of homosexuality let alone transgender and the entirety of the LGBTQIA population. 

At our first club, Nathan shared his desire to be referred to as Nate or Nathan and asked everyone to use male pronouns. He also said “you don’t have to agree with me, but I’d like to ask you to respect me.” At that point, some of the teens clapped. Apparently some of the leaders did too. I have heard muttering that this is controversial. People are conflicted about the leaders clapping. I am conflicted that there is murmuring about it at all. We have a chance to love. We have a chance to embrace. We have a chance to speak truth and walk alongside. Nate showed up to CHOSEN at EvFree Fullerton. He came. He knows we are going to share the gospel. He knows we don’t understand or agree with the decisions he is making, but that we STILL want to be part of his life. Do we need to make a big deal about clapping? Really? I am proud of Nate - I am proud that he came and proud that he shared - THAT IS BRAVE. Maybe they were clapping for that. 

I know we are called to be uncomfortable. I know we are called to be in relationship with those who look different than us - to be love to those who need to be loved. I know 100% that Nate needs to be loved, embraced, and reminded that God loves him wholly and fully. That Jesus died on the cross for him and nothing he does, no decision he makes will EVER change the love God has for him - because he was created in God’s image, he was formed perfectly, and God doesn’t make mistakes. 

RIGHT NOW we have an opportunity to sing that song over his life. BUT WE CAN RUIN IT. Our ugly can stain and squander possibility so quickly. 

SO, let’s be love. Let’s embrace uncomfortable and wrestle with our mess. Let’s beg Jesus to give us His eyes to see our own brokenness and to embrace with His empathy and compassion the brokenness in others. This is a beautiful and monumental chance, full of hope.

I will clap for that. 

enough......

I have always struggled with shame, I think I am just starting to recognize how much it STILL impacts my value and worth economics and actually weighs me down contextually. I am realizing how much work I STILL need to do…but I suppose therein I can be so grateful…I know where to step in, where to step FORWARD.

I was born into a family where I learned to perform for approval. I can remember as a little girl hearing my mom make statements resembling, “you know how to play the game - you’re smart.” The underlying truth: I was manipulative and did chores before asking for privileges because I knew how to get what I wanted. The darker and scarier reality: it taught me love was earned - a reward based value system rooted deep within me. I can see the wounds and scars so vividly now, I had no comprehension for them then. I am convinced that love is temporary and fleeting, that it can be taken off the table at a moments notice, that it will disappear if you don’t DO ENOUGH. I have experienced this on a multitude of occasions and live in the weight of disappointment, sorrow, and SHAME from those losses. I also live in FEAR of it happening again. On repeat. With virtually everyone I care about. 

I just returned from Rwanda - a country that makes my heart beat faster and encapsulates more joy than I can possibly explain - a place where I meet with God in an intimate way - a place that has forever marked me, changed me, created within me a desire for justice and true change. Because of my time in Rwanda, God has re-shaped the very context of my everyday and pressed me to reconsider virtually everything. I went for the first time in 2017 - it was illuminating. In 2018 I couldn’t wait to return; but this trip was SO different - it was as magical and vibrant and radiant and full of God’s hand and presence as ever, but harder and darker and weightier. It has taken over a month to sift through the feelings that sit on top of my experience in Rwanda. The feelings surrounding my team. The words that were said. The shame that I carry for not DOING ENOUGH, BEING ENOUGH, for FAILING… and therefore no longer being loved, no longer being lovable. 

So for the past several weeks I have been re-writing the narrative, trying to cue a new response that doesn’t allow shame to drown out the voice of the Father who sings love over His children and is not burying me in disappointment or fear of loss, but is welcoming me to celebrate each moment. He is inviting me to embrace each second spent with a camper, each tear shed over the desperation of poverty that permeates throughout the continent of Africa, each smile that overtook me because the joy was deep and profound, each prayer written in my journal as I cried out to Him for wisdom, each walk through the streets of this beautiful country that He planted deep within me, each moment of worship that brought me back to surrender and the enormity of His sacrifice, to savor the sound of their laughter and to allow their faces to run through my mind like a slideshow. He is asking me to realize that I am not perfect but to lay that at His feet and know that He loves me, and those who see me love me as well - and to recognize that real love can’t be picked up and thrown away. 

Casting off shame means embracing FREEDOM. Not a freedom to do what I want but a freedom FROM what I have carried. This is where I have to grow. THIS is how I have to walk forward. I have to let go of the weight of embracing the opinions and perspectives of others and allowing that to cripple me or weigh me down. I have to look ONLY to the voice of my Father and know that He has DONE ENOUGH to set me free. Oh Lord that I would be able to choose you and abandon the rest. Give me strength, and steadfast courage to walk forward - one obedient step at a time. 

you will not be afraid....

Joshua 1:9 says, “…Be strong and courageous; do not be terrified, do not be discouraged for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go” .... even if He sends you to the ends of the earth to work with the material poor and most vulnerable in Rwanda. 

While at a camp for the orphans and vulnerable in Rwanda, you will find joy dancing with 104 teens singing Tambira Jehovah, their voices raised in harmony, their feet pounding in rhythm to the drum beat, a sound of worship so magical it is a true foretaste of heaven. You will see delight on faces as a simple balloon game brings an uproar of laughter. You will feel the magic of giving and receiving more hugs in a single week than the entirety of the next year combined. You will know the fulfillment of serving food to those with empty bellies more often than not, and the beauty of sitting in brokenness listening to stories of loss and being His hands of comfort when you cannot fix it but you can show love nonetheless. You will hear bold words of Truth shared from your teammates who willingly tell their stories and lead courageously with Jesus and the Bible at the forefront. 

You will not be afraid - you will be standing in the presence of the Lord - amazed and overcome. 

it all leads to THIS...

I was in tears long before we ever set eyes on our campers.

We were loaded in the coaster - Americans and translators together, sitting intermingled side by side. All it took was pulling into the oh so familiar location where camp would take place. The tears flowed. I was overwhelmed with joy and anticipation of all God had in store. We had been preparing for weeks. There were literally 550-lbs. of supplies. There were pages of activities outlined in notebooks, every one had been prayed over. Now we were really here. Camp was about to begin. My heart was ready to burst.

We had spent two days becoming a cohesive team and it worked beautifully…

Sunday morning we went to CLA for church and out of my peripheral vision I saw Arnold sitting just a few rows behind us. My heart leapt. It had been nearly a year since I had seen my Rwandan friends and everything in me longed to JUMP UP and hug him right that very instant. As soon as the service was over I saw more familiar friends headed toward us, faces bright with excitement almost as big as ours. The joy overflowed as enthusiastic embraces abounded. Outside Joy, the lead of our translator team and a dear friend, waited patiently for us to join her. Joy and I have been working on camp together throughout the year, so seeing her was a long-awaited reunion. That first hug with Joy was one of the best moments of the entire trip. I am convinced there is almost nothing more beautiful than an embrace with a dear friend after months apart. Up to that day, we had only spent two weeks together, but our hearts are forever united because we love the same God and serve the same Kingdom. Joy is truly a sacred and special gift. When we were all finally outside there was an uproar as the entire team came together for the first time - a bond built on the foundation of Christ and virtually nothing else is required. Heaven is going to be INCREDIBLE.

Sunday afternoon Americans and translators joined together for lunch at Meze Fresh (aka Rwandan Chipotle and then headed to the top of Mount Kigali to go zip lining. Memories came flooding back as we drank hot mango smoothies - OH YES, hot. There is virtually ZERO ICE in this country, so the drinks are almost never cold. We tried to learn about one another and laughed hysterically as we soared over the beautiful skyline of a place that would forever mark each one of us. Monday morning we trained for camp. We spent some time just getting to know one another, then we went over the itinerary for camp alongside the heartbeat, purpose, and intention for serving the most vulnerable in Bugasera. Then we prayed together, had lunch, and loaded the coaster with supplies and personal luggage. 

We pulled into the oh-so-familiar camp location and I was done - completely overcome. We walked through each aspect of the site - where we would have meals, where we would play games, selected small group locations, put our personal luggage away in our rooms and then we waited… as anticipation mounted… for word that it was time for us to come meet the campers. The minutes crawled by and every once in a while we saw a familiar face out the window and lost our marbles with more joy than we knew we contained. Finally about an hour later we received our official invitation: come & open camp. 

the first view...

I spent a bit of time this morning reading back through my journal and it made me proud. Proud of the way I prayed my way through Africa. Proud that I chose to fix my eyes on Him repeatedly. Proud that my heart really was focused on the One who was doing work IN ME and had called me to Rwanda before I ever stepped foot back on that beloved continent. I continually asked Him to be my strength and to give me endurance to run the race for Him alone. Even still I have the opportunity to live out of that prayer. Lord - let it be You I sing of and You I praise. 

Rwanda is undoubtedly my favorite place on earth. As soon as our plane landed and I walked out of the airport, it was as if my spirit lifted. We drove toward the World Relief Guesthouse and I kept having to remind myself that it wasn’t merely replaying in my memory - I was REALLY ACTUALLY THERE. I had finally returned to Rwanda. After a year of praying and anticipating, I was “home”. Prayers of gratitude poured from my heart as my eyes welled up with tears. It was overwhelming to say the least. Upon arrival, I took a picture of the most familiar view - the city in the midst of the night lights and stood in amazement at the goodness of my Father for allowing me to return to this place I hold so very dear. My heart felt as if it was bursting with joy and adventure and yet a sense of heaviness all the while. I had this burning desire to hold it all well and to carry it all for His glory. I had done all I could to prepare - it was time to dance for Jesus. 

The return to Rwanda was every bit as good as I could have hoped. I danced with William and took his cheeks in my hands, I wiped his tears - and let a few of my own fall, both in our reunion and our goodbye. I met new campers who have horrific stories of trauma and heartbreak and yet they rejoice in their salvation and reminded me repeatedly that no gift is as valuable as the one we have already received. I listened to the glorious sound of Rwandan children with their voices raised in harmony to praise their Father. I pounded my feet alongside so many friends, both old and new, and sang words in a tongue I didn’t know in praise to Jehovah. I watched in awe as my team served tirelessly and shared their hearts boldly. I played balloon games in complete and utter delight and watched simple crafts like heart pillows and a painted banner bring wonder and creativity to life in children who may never again use something as ordinary as a glue stick. I served meals and praised God for providing abundantly beyond all I could ever ask when it comes to food for my belly and allowed me to be part of feeding these beloved children for one week. I held more hands and gave more hugs in one week than I am likely to give throughout the next year. At the special needs orphanage I was able to hold Monica - the sweet girl I sang over last year and watched her light up and smile and laugh once again. I was also able to hold the hand of a little boy who was undoubtedly in great physical pain - and though I couldn’t fix it or make it any better, for one morning, I was able to sit with him and be present in the midst of it - praying over him and begging the God of comfort to be near. 

I don’t really have words to describe how my heart feels at this particular moment other than to say I think I could spontaneously burst into tears without any warning or advance notice. I look at pictures and I yearn to return - to see their faces once again - to walk those dusty roads - to spend all my time serving and utilizing my moments in a way that feels so entirely valuable and worthy. I yearn to have my thoughts consumed with things that matter and find myself wandering out to our patio to gaze upon the city and have conversations with the Lord. I don’t know what any of this really means for me - but I plan to continue wrestling with it and trusting my good and faithful Father to guide and direct me. He has a plan and a purpose and will continue to ordain each and every day of my life. If I have learned anything in Rwanda it is this - Imana ni nziza: God is so good. 

march.

In just two days I board a plane headed to Rwanda, and for the first time in an entire year, I feel totally unprepared. It is a ridiculous statement because at this particular moment in time - I am more ready than I have ever been. My suitcase is packed. My team is trained. Lessons are written, crafts are planned, games are waiting to be played. I have absolutely no doubt that Love has been calling me “home” since I flew back to California last year. My heart has not wavered for one moment. I know THIS is His very best for me. This is the Kingdom work He planted in my soul before the dawn of time. Even still…right now in this moment… I feel small and a bit overwhelmed. 

I keep thinking about Joshua and the Israelites marching around Jericho. Our theme verse for camp this year is Joshua 1:9 - Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified, do not be discouraged for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go. Together, they marched around Jericho for days. The command made no sense, and yet they walked with obedience. If they had stopped early, absolutely nothing would have come of their endeavor. TOTAL COMMITMENT was required. Sometimes we don’t fully understand the outcome, we just have to choose steadfast endurance. That might be the story of my life - run the race marked out for you even if you don’t know where you’re going - even if your heart feels weak - even if you appear to be alone in the arena. 

Right now I feel small and incapable, there is some pain, and there is some loneliness. I have worked hard in anticipation of this departure and now that the time to go has come, I am trembling. Every ounce of my heart is ready to take those campers in my arms and yet my heart breaks simultaneously. A joy so great coupled with a sorrow so deep. EVEN STILL, I know I have been called to GO and I know my God will be with me. I can put on my armor and trust in the King who has overcome, I can march forward with steadfast faith in the very God who singlehandedly took down the wall of Jericho so that the Israelites could defeat their enemy. HE HAS OVERCOME. 

the last w letter - before we are together.

Dear William.

Today is July 13. It has been 11 months since we said goodbye. And it is less than 1 month until we will say hello… again.

In the secret spaces of my heart I prayed that I would see you on Sunday, August 12…exactly one year after our goodbye. I knew I had to be at Pastor Joseph’s church in the event you were there. I knew I would search the faces of every child who entered the door looking for you. I wouldn’t let go of hope until after that church service was complete…and even then, I knew a small part of me would hold onto a tiny shred until I boarded the plane for home. 

I printed a picture of us from last year and it is tucked in my Kinyarwanda Bible. I know I can’t bring you an actual gift, but that photo says Ndagukunda across the front, which means I love you and I have long hoped to give it to you or at least leave it with Bob for delivery on my behalf. Sweet boy, YOU ARE SPECIAL, you’re MY WILLIAM. 

What I still can’t envision is what it will really be like to see you again after so much time has passed. I wonder if you’ll really remember me. I have no doubt God used you to change my story - but I can’t know how our week together changed you. That is yours and yours alone. No words can be exchanged to describe it. I also had no idea God had prepared and purposed another week together. It is richer than anything I could have dreamed. I didn’t know you would be coming back to camp. I didn’t know that again we would share meals, and you would hear more stories, and make more crafts, and we would get to DANCE together until our feet can't move for one more beat. It is all too good. 

I can’t picture arriving at camp and having you there…getting to introduce you to the new members of the team…feeling your hand slip back into mine. Taking your cheeks in my hands and looking deep into your eyes as mine fill with tears of extraordinary joy and gratitude that can be expressed no other way. 

This life may not be what I ever expected, what I ever even hoped for; but I know that THIS - that YOU - are a gift from God and I will not miss this moment. I will not forgo this opportunity to shake my tambourine in the wilderness and rejoice in the promised land moments I know are coming. His presence is with us and He is for us and His goodness is far greater than I can comprehend. 

Thank you Father - for the richest and most abundant of gifts. 

Thank you Lord for William. 

I am coming back for you. 

-shell- 

glimpsing the radiant ripple...

This weekend I went to camp with my favorite teens. It was hard and exhausting (par usual) but mostly, it was a gift. Mostly in the midst of all that hard, I saw how far I have come and how far we have come together. Mostly for the first time in so many years I had space and freedom to actually have conversations with some exceptional teens who have faced extraordinary and overcome MUCH and they are beautiful. They cried and they shared and they let me walk alongside and they want to continue to grow and I am amazed by them. I am PROUD of them. I am grateful for their stories and their strength and the way they inspire me to press on. I see Jesus all around them - and I know He is at work.

On Sunday morning as we celebrated our camp graduates, I realized that we could have seen them 5 times in the last 5 years…but instead we have seen them 45 times because of this crazy thing God planted within me called CHOSEN. In the next year we will add another ten times to that for a grand total of 55 shared events. I had no idea five years ago when Connie and Rachel and Amy started talking to me about this tiny dream that it would become a drumbeat in my heart - a passion - the thing I would mark time by and build my life around. CHOSEN is central to nearly every major decision I make. I cannot imagine my life without it anymore - and frankly, I don’t want to - it is joy and fulfillment and one of the most incredible motivations to seek Christ with all my heart. I want to be present for them and to shine His light in their lives and without His constant strength, I am not enough. Only by His power can CHOSEN provide true hope and be meaningful and significant in the lives of these teens. 

That said, as I engaged with teens at camp, as I watched them cheer one another on at the ropes course or make s’mores together (so so many s’mores) or laugh throughout soccer games or share stories while wearing ridiculous face masks or sing during worship, it was so very evident that God has marked them and they may not know Him yet - but they are willing to hear about Him and they are being shaped and changed and growing in character and those steps forward are everything. They are all I have prayed for and they are what He is asking of us and I am so overwhelmed with gratitude and overcome by the grandeur of a dream so small that has become something so deep and permeating and truly life-changing not just for me - but for so many. I guess it really was a glimpse of this ripple effect - of so many lives - of so much hope and the power of possibility - and I pray I can take hold of that peek He gave and run full force toward Jesus - to God be the glory great things He has done! 

hope.

The past few days - maybe weeks, I have found myself regularly reaching for my giving keys necklace. It was a gift from my dear sweet friend Amanda in the midst of a particularly challenging season. On the face of the key, inscribed is the word HOPE. I find I am a particularly leaky vessel when it comes to hope. I strain to hold onto it, and yet it filters through my fingers and fades away. I always need more…just another ounce. 

Last night, I was lying on my bed…on an ice-pack…and basically preaching to myself as the tears poured down my cheeks. Reminding myself of Truth. Speaking the words out-loud, praying they would resonate with my soul. “You are loved. You are worthy and acceptable and approved, exactly as you are in this very moment. Even if you are never married and never have a family of your own - you are living your BEST LIFE if you are chasing after Jesus and living in the very center of His will. His best dreams for you are the only adventures you can ever hope for - they’re more than you can imagine. You do not have to see it now. You do not have to make sense of this. You do not have to feel it in this moment, and it is ok to wrestle with all of it. BUT YOU ARE WANTED AND YOU ARE CHOSEN. The Creator of the entire universe picked you…you are not small in His sight, you are precious and beloved and you must cling tight.”

It is SO easy to let the circumstances of our lives and the feelings of the moment dictate our responses and reactions. Pain is real. For me pain is real both physically and emotionally, and yet God is the Author of every detail. He is able. He is sovereign. Where He is limitless, I am so very human and thereby exceptionally limited. If I allow the gravity of my past or even my current circumstances to dictate my future expectations, I stop trusting the voice of my Father. I have to keep approaching the throne with confidence - and I lose all sense of boldness and courage if I am looking at the weakness and frailty of nature - I have to look at the face of my King. FOR I KNOW WHOM I HAVE BELIEVED AND AM PERSUADED THAT HE IS ABLE! 

“This is the confidence we have in approaching God: if we asking anything according to his will, He hears us. And if we know that He hears us - whatever we ask - we know that we have what we asked of Him.” 1 John 5:14-15

Only there will I find hope…and courage…and expectancy. Only there can I put aside the thoughts that seem to fill my mind with words like impossible and steady myself in Him alone. 

loving well...caring a lot...and trusting Him most.

I have always been a bridge builder. No, I don’t mean literal bridges. I mean the kind where you lay down so people can walk on you, over you, across you - and ultimately get to someone else. THAT KIND of bridge. I’m the friend who gets bruised and broken again and again. And then, when I think I have given every last bit I have, when I think I literally don’t have one ounce or smidge left, I find just a little bit more. Truth telling, I don’t know how to not care. Even when I’m completely out of love, when I’m wrung dry - there is still 5% down deep in me somewhere. 

I can’t tell you how many friends have brutally wrecked my heart. They likely have no idea it happened; and I’m not saying it is entirely their fault either. Nothing ever is. I’ve never been one to walk away or let go easily. I don’t take the idea of “friends for a season” very well and I end up getting my heart broken. Since I was a little girl my dad has told me my capacity for love is my greatest gift and will always bring me pain. 

Last week one of my dearest friends lost her dad to cancer. Our friendship has been somewhat challenging throughout the past few years, and the past six months have been distanced to say the least. I chose me. I chose boundaries and even though I fully believe it was the healthier and better choice, in this moment it feels totally wrong. I told her in March when we ran into each other that I would be there for her when this moment came, and I meant in. A few weeks ago I knew the end was drawing closer and I sent flowers. I have been consistent in sending texts to remind her I was praying and that I cared - but I haven’t actually seen or had deep and meaningful conversation with her throughout much of this year. Only 20 minutes after her dad died, she told me. I suppose if you are family - that reality doesn’t just fade or disappear even if there is a season of distance. I walked into the celebration of life on Friday afternoon and her mom welcomed me warmly. She hugged me tightly and said, “I’m so glad my other daughter is here.” I was asked to sit in the front row alongside the immediate family and to attend the private meal following the public reception. It was my honor. 

I fell into my role as aunt shell with ease - I laughed alongside the kiddos and chased them around, making sure they were entertained and trying to keep them out of their parent’s hair at least for periods of time. But my heart aches as I looked at my friend. I longed to sit across from her and hear her heart - to know how she was really doing - and yet I also knew I wasn’t the one she would choose to share those stories with, and maybe I won’t be ever again. How do you love well and care well and give much when you’re also letting go? How to you protect yourself from falling apart when you’re invested but you’re also walking away? How do you hope for more and still say - grateful for now. 

Dear Lord, I entrust my dear friend to your care. I give you her heart and know You are at work in her life regardless of what I ever see or know of her days. Thank you for loving her infinitely more than I ever can…and loving me more than I understand as well. Thank you for holding my heart and promising to provide abundantly more than I need. Be strong and gentle and gracious as I seek your face, and wash over us both with Your love. Healing is forever in Your hands Jesus.