simple revolution.

Yesterday there was a party for all the one-on-one pairs, so Rosie came to Taylor for that (side-note: Rosie is the second-grader I mentor through one-on-one). Rosie's family does not go to church, but there is a church across the street from them where she goes to a Bible-school on Saturdays.

We ended up leaving the party and going for a walk, which led us past the memorial prayer chapel. She asked what it was, what was inside it, etc. I described how there are a few small rooms where you can go and be by yourself and pray, and how a lot of people go there if they're sad about something or they're worried or happy or confused, and they need to talk to God; there's also a bigger room where people can go in groups and have Bible studies, or sing worship songs together. She asked if I had ever used it; I answered yes, and she asked, "Did it happen?"  I asked her, "Did what happen?" and she replied, "What you prayed. Did it happen?" I was able to tell her about recently when I was really scared for my dad, with my mom leaving, and I went to the prayer chapel to beg God to bring him safely through. I was able to tell her that it had been a week and God was not only holding him together, but growing him and healing him and giving him more peace than I would ever have thought to pray for. God always answers when we pray.

She thought about it for a bit, and the really beautiful thing was that she then told me a story of a time when she had prayed and God had answered her. There had been a really bad storm in her town, and her family had to go into the basement of the church across the street. She prayed that God would send the storm away and that there wouldn't be a tornado. I asked if there was one, and she smiled and said no, God answered her prayer.

God doesn't always answer our prayers the way we want or expect, thank goodness. Sometimes, though, He does, and I think this is really important; I don't think that it's just a fluke, or that we just happened to pray for the right outcome by chance. I think a big part of the reason why God sometimes chooses to answer our prayers exactly the way we hoped is so that even a child can look at what happened and recognize, "That was God. That was God, and He heard me, and He answered me." I think that part of the reason why He didn't allow the tornado to touch Rosie's town was simply so that she could look back later and see His hand. In fact, I'm pretty sure that He was looking straight at her in the basement of the church when He turned the tornado away, sad for the fear she was feeling but also smiling with eager expectation of how clearly she would see Him later as a result.


k. rose

Today I was in church, and I really was paying attention but all of a sudden God distracted me with this completely off-topic conviction. He asked me what I was doing about all His children who are hurting, specifically the poor and the widows and the orphans. He asked me how I was allowing Him to love them through me.

I pretty quickly answered, well, someday I'm going to be a doctor and then I'll live in their communities and treat them when they're sick and play with them when they're well and we'll all be a family and it'll be very beautiful... and God said yes, that's very nice, but that's a long time from now and you have no idea what I might do in between. I mean what are you doing in this stage of your life, right now?

So I thought about it, and I answered, well, next semester when I'm less busy with classes and work I'll be involved at the Rescue Mission again, and spend time at the women and children's shelter building relationships, and we'll all be a family and it'll be very beautiful... and God said yes, yes, very nice, but what about right now?

So I thought some more, and I answered, well, over Thanksgiving break I might have time to go hang out at the open door and eat at the soup kitchen and share meals with the homeless and build relationships and we won't have a lot of time to be a family but it'll be something at least and it'll be very beautiful still... and God said no, you still don't understand, I mean right now. I mean today.

And I still don't know what to answer.


k. rose

This past Friday my mom left my dad. It was a very brave, very healthy, and very right choice, and I'm so proud of her for making it. However, that doesn't mean I'm not heartbroken for my family. It takes a lot to make me cry, but I cried on Friday. I cried when I talked to my dad on the phone, for how sad he is, how confused and caught off guard. I cried when I talked to my brother, for how much is being put on his shoulders, for how strong and mature he is being, for the pain he is going through, and for how proud I am of how he's handling it. My eyes filled up again on Sunday when I talked to my mom and heard her tears through the phone. This isn't the way families are supposed to work; I cried for the sadness of a world in which this type of thing is common-place. I'm relieved by my mom's move, but I'm aching from all the pain which is responsible for it and coming from it.

One of my favorite parts of my church is our time of prayer in small groups. Every week, we gather with two or three other people sitting near us, often people we don't know at all, and pray for each other. This past Sunday, two of my sisters in Christ prayed for my family and for how God would be moving and working through all of this.

When Pastor got up to preach, his sermon was titled "Believing the Lord Completely in my Prayer Life." One of the basic principles underlying his message was that "prayer is never completed until it is answered." What a timely message! God is so good in providing everything we need, including the very words that our hearts are starving for. God had brought this subject up on Saturday while I was talking to Alyssa about it on the phone, but I hadn't grabbed on to it the way I needed to. So, he used the sermon on Sunday to condense the idea, simplify it, and hold it out for me to cling to- and that I am doing. I am human and broken, and rarely is this true, but for once I think I can honestly say that I have complete confidence in God's promise to work through this situation. I pray that He will use it to His glory, and I know that that prayer will be anwered- is already answered. I hope that as a result of all this my dad will become healthy and joyful, my brother will grow into a man of God, my mom will find peace and contentment. I hope that this is how God chooses to manifest His glory, but I'm not worried about it because I know that whatever the means He chooses, they will be beautiful beyond compare.


k. rose

Hello blog world... as mentioned in my last post, ages and ages ago, life is a little crazy right now. I'll claim that as my excuse for not sharing any stories in weeks. However, I simply had to carve out time and share this particular detail.

About a month ago I lost my Bible somewhere on campus, I wasn't sure where. I looked all over, in my room, my backpack, the science building, the chapel, the prayer room, my car... everywhere I could think of. I finally gave up, figuring that I could pick up another Bible from home over Thanksgiving break, and in the meantime borrow other people's. Of course now in retrospect I realize how stupid that was; I should have had my mom mail it to me.

Anyway, last Wednesday I decided to peek again in the lost-and-found at chapel, and there was my Bible, tucked beneath several other Bibles, a journal and a couple of coats! (... I was so excited that I stood up much too quickly and the hit my head with quite a loud crack on the concrete staircase underwhich the lost-and-found is located).

I knew that I was being affected by not having my Bible, but I hadn't realized how much until I got it back. Scrounging around and finding the Word from other sources is better than nothing, but it isn't the same as having it sitting on my desk or in my backpack, ready to pull out whenever a thought pops in my head, or I need some encouragement, or someone else needs encouragement, or even just when I have an extra moment of free time.

I've been thinking a lot about my brothers and sisters who don't have Bibles. I've been thinking about a house-visit we made while in Rwanda. I was sitting next to a girl I had never met before while someone (maybe Adam?) was reading a passage of scripture, and I shared my Bible with her. She didn't even speak English; I doubt she could understand a word on the page, but she could put her hands out and touch it and feel it at the very least. Afterward, we were walking to another house and she just grabbed my hand, and we were sisters. I'm quite sure that in heaven someday we'll make eye contact and recognize each other in an instant, and run and greet each other with a giant hug and a million stories of how good our God is.

I've been thinking about the way people there drank in the Word when it was read out loud to them; I've been thinking about the way it instantly bonded us as a family. I've been grieving for people who can't read or hear the Word on a daily basis, and especially for people who don't even have it in their own language. I'm not really sure where this goes or what I'm supposed to do with it or what you should do with it. Maybe we should all change our majors and become Bible translators (maybe not). The point is, God's word is great, it is powerful, it changes lives. The proof I offer is that it is changing mine.


k. rose