A Reminder to Stop.

Christmas break was a time of relaxation and reflection. Spending time with family, catching up with good friends, sharing all that's happened my last four months, having challenging conversations, simply enjoying the presence of the ones I love, it was a much needed time of rest.

Rest.

It's funny to me that the busyness of the city has taught me so much about rest. Perhaps because it's important, and, at times, more needed to take a step back from the over stimulating environment of the city. Maybe my on going schedule forces me to seek out the small moments of rest. Maybe I've just come to cherish those quiet, alone moments that feed me, because they've become more and more rare. Whatever the case, rest has become a yearning in my heart. To constantly be resting in the arms of my God and finding the moments where that can be my focus.

It's hard for me to rest. To stop. Pause a busy schedule and be at peace. My mind always seems to be running restlessly. On top of that struggle already in place, it's hard to find the time for it. Life and busy schedules push us to keep going, as if rest was wrong. So too often, we miss it.

We can't forget the moments that we stop. The moments that we breathe and breathe in the presence of our ever present God.
"Let my soul be at rest again, for the Lord has been good to me."
- Psalm 116:7

I think we all need more moments where we stop. Stop the busyness of our schedule. Stop the busyness of our thoughts. Stop, remember the goodness of our God, and rest. I hope that this month you'll find beautiful moments of rest and that you'll make it a priority. I'll be working towards the same.

SEPTA Community

There's a beautiful thing that happens when you ride public transit. You become a part of a unique community. I've gotten to watch it for a while now and it's a beautiful thing.

I watch young, tough guys help ladies bring grocery carts on and off the bus.

I've been the one with the grocery cart.

I watch a lady hold a child that she doesn't even know, so that the child's mother can carry all of her stuff and not stumble with the child in her hands.

I watch a kid get everyone around her smiling and mothers laughing with the ones around her.

I've had kids make my whole day on the bus, and talked with mothers as we laughed together.

I hear strangers help each other out with directions or questions.

I've had my questions answered.

I watch people sharing a hearty laugh with people they don't even know.

I watch guys with loud voices help others shout, "back door" when they need to get off so they don't miss their stop.

I've been the one they've helped.

I hear strangers wish each other a Merry Christmas as they leave.

You rub shoulders with strangers, people you may never interact with apart from that bus ride, but there's something that's okay about it.

SEPTA inspires me.

There's something binding about riding public transit.
A community is created.
And I think I might have something to learn...

Where I Stand.

Philadelphia is beautiful in so many ways, and as I live life in the middle of it all it starts to change my perspective on so many things...

"Where you stand determines what you see." – Kathy Kelly

A lot of times, the only thing that people know of my neighborhood is what the news and media present. My team has heard the warnings and gotten the surprised faces, but I stand in a different place. I live in Hunting Park. When I think of Hunting Park, I think of Catalina and George and Rosa. I think of the young girls that sit on our porch and laugh and draw and paint fingernails together. I think of the kids using our chalk on the sidewalks. I think of all the generosity we've received and the meals we've shared. Hunting Park is home.

When we talk about passive and active racism and other race issues, being on the privileged side of things, as a White person, it can sometimes be easy to ignore the race issues all around. But not from where I stand. From where I stand, it affects my neighbors, it affects my neighborhood, it affects my city... I am now a part of something bigger, and so it affects me too. So I work towards a better understanding, and I work towards reconciliation and justice.

Silence is sometimes scary and uncomfortable; sometimes we don't know what to do with it, but going on a solitude retreat and staying silent stood me in a different place. Silence gives everything a little more meaning. The stars shine a little bit brighter. The leaves and colors dance a little bit lighter. And God meets you there if you seek Him out, and you learn to embrace the silence. Embrace the solitude.

People walk above the homeless as if they are no longer human. It often seems like there's no common ground. But not from where I stand. How often do you come with nothing but yourself? When you sit down and offer up an ear. When you look someone in the eye. When you laugh. I see God's face in the laugh lines around her brightened eyes. I see God's face in Bibi. And we are all human breathing the same air.

I'm learning what it looks like when "them" becomes "us," and we're not so different that we have to keep ourselves separate.

"Where you stand determines what you see."

And I am standing in Philadelphia. Standing in Hunting Park. Standing on the poverty line. Standing with my neighbors. Standing with the homeless. Standing with the oppressed. Standing in the silence. And the thing I see above all is the face of God.

I thank God for starting to change and shape my perspective and pray that he continues to stand me right where he wants me, amidst all of the tension and all of the beauty, in order to see his beautiful face.

So you can tell me what you've heard; you can tell me what you know, but until you allow yourself to stand in the middle of it all you will never see the beauty that's there.
 
Don't be afraid to stand in a different place. Perspective is everything.

Singing Hope

Chapel happens every Thursday outside in the school yard.

The seventy nine kids gather in our small outside area. They sing songs and listen to a teaching about God's character and love. They speak truths they've memorized and sing their Bible verse for the week in a catchy tune.

This week I watched as these kids sang out with all that they had. And I listened to the words that they were singing...

"I have a future. God has a plan for me."

I look at each kid. From Kindergarten to 8th, all singing the same words. And I start to tear up...

I hope that as life goes on they hold onto the truth in those words. I hope they still believe it. I hope that when things get hard those truths will stand stronger than ever before.

And I can hear their voices lifting and filling the neighborhood. With every person that passes. Overflowing into the streets and open windows. They get louder. They sing above the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

This is hope.

And I think about the power that comes in believing those words. And how powerful they can be in restoring and choosing something different than what we see all around us. I hear the truth in those words that bring about dignity and worth and a purpose that goes beyond this Earth.

This is the stuff that will change things. Seventy nine kids that believe in the truth of those words. I pray that they continue to choose to let it empower them.

And God is here working for justice and something more than we've seen. And there are people working faithfully to further the kingdom. Working to bring truth and healing to lies that engulf people and communities and cities...

God is present in Philadelphia. Revealing Himself in kids singing truth through the noise. Singing about a future and lifting their voices above the chaos. Above the expectations. Above the brokenness.

And maybe this is a taste of redemption...

From a God who loves to use the little things and the little ones.

A God Who Beckons

I moved to Philadelphia about a week ago. And I love it. I really do.

But let me just tell you... It has been hard.

But not for reasons you would think. It hasn't been the "brokenness of the city," as most people would assume. I love my neighborhood and am so excited about becoming a part of it. I am so excited to learn from my neighbors and hear their stories. I truly couldn't be more happy with living in Hunting Park. Honestly. I love it. I love my team. I can't wait to continue to work towards true community with them. I know that soon, as I start my job, I am going to fall in love with all of the kids I get to work with.

But what the beginning of Mission Year has confronted me with is the brokenness within myself.

I've struggled with all of these things holding me back...

My insecurities. My hurts. My brokenness. My comfort zone. My expectations. Where I don't measure up.

...and on and on and on...

Mission Year is a great program. This has been even more validated in my mind through the last two weeks of orientation, learning more about what they stand for and what they're doing, and it just gets me all excited inside. Philly is a great city. It already is stealing my heart. I'm learning to call it home. I'm set up for a potentially great year.

But me?
I don't feel adequate.

And me?
I'm scared. And I'm broken. And I'm weak.

But my God is a God who beckons.

He's a God who stands me back up, looks me in the eyes, and reassures me. He reminds me of who I am and what I'm fighting for. He reminds me of my hopes and my dreams. Bringing peace to my doubts and my fears.

And Him?
He is strong.

And Him?
He is in the business of making broken things new.

He looks at me and knows alllll of my brokenness, yet calls me on.
I hear the invitation in His reassuring heartbeat beckoning me to come.

I want to surrender all to that beautiful call.

I. want. to. respond.

Here I am.
Send me.