My dad is getting married on Sunday.

Courtney and I are leaving at noon (in NightWatch time, this is absurdly early) to drive to Indiana for the wedding.

Prayers are appreciated.

I would write more, but I need to pack and get to sleep… with a quickness.

Everything is changing. But nothing is changing.

Anyone who has really talked to me since I returned from training can bear witness to this fact: I have a lot to say about those four days.

My first impressions about CRI were correct. Sean Malone was articulating the vision that was actively abiding within my own heart. I was hearing an answer to questions I had been asking for years.

As it turns out, though… CRI was answering a lot more questions than I had initially perceived.

All through training, the Lord was continually speaking to me. Dots were connecting. Unanswered questions throughout my life were finding answers. Seemingly unrelated desires and burdens were coming together. Riddles were beginning to make sense. I was beginning to make sense. My longings, my gifts, my passions, my interests, seasons of training, seasons of preparation, things imparted and invested in my life, dreams, confusing desires, blurry beginnings of vision… Things were coming together.

Sitting in class, I would suddenly be overwhelmed with the Lord’s presence. It didn’t seem to matter what was being taught. The Lord would begin to speak to me. He would highlight the simplest phrase from the present teaching and cause it to reverberate within me. He would bring to remembrance the things that He had spoken at various times in my life. He would give meaning to something from my past and connect it to what I was doing in that moment. He would remind me of something I had just said in the break before our teaching and bring clarity to my own words.

I cried… a lot.

I saw all of the little pieces coming into alignment and I saw it taking shape. My eyes were opened to the foundation that He had been laying in my life. From there, He began to show me blueprints of what He wanted to build on top of that foundation.

I say this a lot, but it is remarkably true: HIS LEADERSHIP IS PERFECT.

Fully aware of the strength of my statement, I cannot pretend otherwise: It really feels like my whole life has been leading up to this.

Everything is changing. But nothing is changing.

Nothing is changing. I am not shifting directions. I have already been moving in this direction. I didn’t pick up anything new. I just got to see a glimpse of the way that everything I have already been carrying in my heart fits together. I’m not pursuing something different. I am simply continuing forward, toward the things that I have already been pursuing.

I am still an intercessory missionary. I am still on the NightWatch. My primary occupation is still prayer.

Everything is changing. But nothing is changing.

Everything is changing. There is a now clear path. Obedience has become a very active thing. I have to respond. It’s time.

He spoke it again and again. He settled it in my heart. And then He set someone in my path to prophesy it over me. It’s time to release the things that have been stored up inside of me. I can’t hide anymore. I can’t keep it locked up anymore. (And there will always be enough for me and my crown. His leadership is perfect.)

It’s time to move forward. It’s time to take risks. It’s time to walk in the grace He has given to me. It’s time to offer myself to the body.

I believe that I have something to give. I have something to give. And it’s time.

I really need prayer right now.

1. My cold.
Almost immediately after I returned from training with CRI, I was hit with one of the wretched cold/flu things that are going around.

In an instant, everything I was responding to and following through with, in regards to CRI, was brought to a screeching halt. My application for the chaplaincy team was put on hold. Continuing to read and pray through the training manual was more than I had the energy to do and it went back in my bag for a week. I was so out of it that I didn’t have the mental capacity to even continue to process all that the Lord had been speaking to me for those last few days.

Right now, I am on the road to recovery and overjoyed. I am a functional human being again. My brain works. I have been able to go to the prayer room. But I am still very tired, my head is still very congested, my throat is still very sore, and my cough is easily provoked. I have had to rest a lot. I have repeatedly woken up feeling wretched and been forced to cancel the first few hours of my day’s activities. So… amazing improvement, but I am still coming out of that one.

2. My knee.
On the last night of training, my knee started to feel kind of funny and I woke up that next day knowing that it could easily lock again. (Something that happened frequently, a long time ago, and is usually quite painful.) Things definitely weren’t right in my knee. I received prayer, though, and my knee was fine all day. UNTIL we got on the bus to go home. That’s when it started up again. My first night back in the prayer room, I could barely walk.

Since then, it has been a bit of a roller coaster. Every time I get prayer, it improves in a notable way for some length of time. But when I think we’re finally done, it will suddenly flare up again. Like just it did a little while ago… when it started to hurt like heck as I was throwing up. And that brings us to number three…

3. My irrepressible need to vomit.
A few hours ago, it became apparent that I was probably going to throw up. I was really nauseous and my head was throbbing with this really weird pain. (I’d had a headache for hours, which I was mostly attributing to my failure to drink enough water for the first part of the day.) I hydrated away, but the headache was not easing up. And then I realized I was probably about to throw up.

I went back to the bathroom, ready to cooperate with what my body was doing. But then I decided that I just couldn’t handle it.  So, I took some of that lovely pink stuff, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and tried to… talk myself into feeling better(?). I felt miserable, but I thought I might make it. And I did… for a while.

And then I threw up. A lot.

I eventually stopped it… somehow. For one thing, my knee was in a lot of pain and the whole vomiting thing seemed to be making it worse. But more than that… I couldn’t do it anymore. It was not a pleasant experience. Throwing up isn’t usually a lot of fun, but this was awful. It was painful. It was emotionally upsetting (hard to explain). And it didn’t seem to be getting any better.

Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure I’m not done. And oh how I am dreading it.

I hate throwing up, but I can do it if I need to. I often feel a lot better after I do. And sometimes we don’t have a choice. (Amanda can tell you all about the incredible projectile vomit incident almost two years ago. That woman is an amazing friend… with an impressively solid stomach and a persevering servant’s heart.)

But right now… I don’t know if I can handle it. This has been one of my worst vomiting experiences. (The projectile thing is a far more interesting story and I was REALLY sick… but it was somehow a much more bearable experience to actually… live.)

So… I am writing this plea for prayer.

I cannot state strongly enough how powerful and significant the four days were that I spent training with CRI. Things are shifting in my life. The Lord has issued some really clear and strong invitations, and I am saying yes to him. But that is proving VERY difficult right now. (I did manage to press through the headache and nausea to finish my chaplaincy team application tonight.)

I’m exhausted. And I’m really not interested in having any other issues materialize with my body right now. My knee was sufficiently obnoxious. My cold was more than enough. And the way my whole body feels right now, as I wait in dread of the probably-inevitable continuation of a really horrendous vomiting experience… absolutely not okay.

I have things to do right now. And the Lord has been walking me through some fairly intense heart issues in the last couple of days. Sickness and pain and more sickness are not fitting in very well with all of that.

So… ’tis time for all the junk to stop. Please agree with me in prayer!

Two days in a row, my roommate and I have received unexpected packages from a delightful woman in Pennsylvania. So much fun!

It has made me think of what a huge impact those unexpected little things can have. It totally made my day… both days! (That, and the fact that I was finally beginning to recover from my cold. My brain works again and everything! Just need to get my throat, head, and weary body to fully catch up.)

I have been receiving far fewer surprise packages in the mail since my mom passed away. So it means A LOT to receive something in the mail “just because.”

I’m also realizing that several birthdays passed while I was busy being sick and fuzz-brained. Sadness. To everyone (I know and love) who has numerically aged in the last few days, I love you a lot and I am glad that you were born! I just got derailed by my colision with the sickness train. (I blame it on the schedule change and then four days of running around in the cold for CRI training. My immune system didn’t have a chance. Sleep is really important!)

Anyway… Mrs. I, yet again, you have brightened my life considerably. I am so blessed to have been introduced to you and your incredible heart via Blogland.

Speaking of meeting people from Blogland, I wanted to give a quick shout-out to Jim from CRI training. (I’m pretty sure I promised myself to never use that term, “shout-out,” when I first became acquainted with it. Sigh… I wonder what similar terms I may lose my resolve in resisting. This one doesn’t bother me now, but I know that it did at one time. I sincerely hope that I do not lose my distaste for some of the things that I presently refuse to say.) Random fact, you have the same name as my phone. Well, the Jim part, at least. I think I just assumed that my phone received my last name when it was adopted.

I think CRI training was the least unsettling place to meet a total stranger who has read many of my thoughts… who has seen some of the deep things of my heart. So… way to not be creepy. Sometimes I forget that there are real people who read this thing that I have never met. I like meeting the people who read my blog. (For example, Mrs. I was a total win. She’s even more delightful in person than she is in comment form.) But, truth be told, it would probably freak me out if a random person approached me outside the prayer room and knew my name… and my life.

Bearing gifts might help. I’ll see if I can get a list going to enable such gift-giving introductions. (OK, actual fact… I am creating a Christmas/birthday/everyday wish list. It will consist of all of the gear that I need to deploy with CRI, or to do further training. All I want for Christmas is the ability to easily leave town on short notice to love and serve people in the midst of crisis. Bonus to that Christmas wish: it might also enable the reintroduction of camping to my already-pretty-fantastic life. And that would be… awesome. In any case, that list might make it onto my blog… in case people are interested in being a part of my future work with CRI. We shall see.)

Oh, look at that! I still know how to ramble!

Well, hopefully, there are some (somewhat more coherent) blog posts coming in the near future about CRI. I have a lot to say about the training. The Lord had a lot to say during training. I just have to find the time to reign in all of those words.

I’m going to publish this without rereading it. Probably a mistake, since I have just been babbling on. And… since I have been typing the whole thing on my phone. But I’m just going to go with it. Freedom from perfectionism. That’s what we’ll call it.

Thanks again, Mrs. I!

Before I left for CRI training, I wrote this outline that was intended to turn into an actual post, when I had time to write it. I probably spent all of two minutes typing this list out, so there is probably some redundancy. It basically just lists out some of what I believed I could bring and be in the midst of crisis. So… here it is, the post that I never had time to write:

I perceive my role to be fairly simple.  I expect that a lot of my ideas will be refined, once I actually go through training. But this post is just a simple overview of what I believe my part is. Why I am doing this.

Anchored in hope and rooted and grounded in love. Secure in my identity, knowing God’s delight in me.

Lean on the Holy Spirit.

Out of the place of intimacy, communion.

Listen and obey.

Love… in the midst of pain and trial.

Holy Spirit. Confidence. Rest. Steadfastness.

Peace. In the midst of chaos and uncertainty.

Serve people.

Love people.

Commune with the Lord.

Make myself available. Follow the Holy Spirit.

Lead. Have answers. Be able to take action. Give people confidence.

Speak truth. Light of hope.

My first week in Texas was… rough. I was tired and overwhelmed. I felt my confidence completely deteriorating. And I found it unusually difficult to engage in a real way with the people I was giving time to be with.

Every time I opened my mouth and said something real that came from a place of any depth, I felt that I could, at any moment, completely fall apart. It didn’t matter where I was. It didn’t matter who I was with. If I dipped anywhere below the surface, I was sure to break down and begin bawling.

This was a problem. I did not want to burden my friends with my emotions. There was a lot of catching up to do. I didn’t feel like crying in public. I didn’t have time to go there. I didn’t really want to be that vulnerable.

So, quite naturally and with little thought, I suppressed my emotions. It took a lot of energy and an almost sub-conscious intentionality. But my once-perfected skill of shutting down my emotions kicked in and I was able to numb myself with very little conscious thought.

I stuck to the surface. If I felt myself about to crack, I would alter my course and steer away from the touchy things. I said relatively little. I felt very little.

There were two major consequences to responding to my emotions in this way. First, it became virtually impossible to relate to anyone in a real way, as I was setting apart significant time to meet with people. It’s hard to connect with a person with any depth when you are determined to stay at the surface. Simple contradiction. Second, I COULD NOT sleep.

Yes. I suppressed my emotions so thoroughly that it was keeping me up at night. It was exhausting.

After about a week of sleep deprivation, I finally realized what I was doing. So, Thursday morning, as I was failing again to fall asleep, the floodgates broke and I just started to cry.

From that point, I resolved not to shut down emotionally, for the rest of my time in Texas. Since then (the last three or four days)… I’ve cried A LOT.

One week to go. A lot of pain remains that I haven’t even touched. But the Holy Spirit, my Comforter, is with me. So I’m feeling pretty hopeful about the next seven days.

Have you ever been unquestionably aware of something that you had no way of articulating? You know that it is true, whatever it is; you just don’t know how to express it.

This has been true of the state of my heart… my livingness of life.

A lot of people have observed the change… or at least some of the outward manifestations of the change. And I KNOW things are different. But I have had no explanation for those who have inquired about the transformation. I have only been able to agree with them, very conscious of a reality that I could not express but that was so beyond argument that it was confirmed by the testimony of many witnesses.

Each person has observed it and articulated it in very different ways, but I know that they are talking about the same thing. I have become more expressive. My smile is brighter. I have come out of some sort of shell. I have a new boldness. My voice is different. And on and on and on. All of these statements are true, but none of them are particularly meaningful, independent of the greater reality from which they are flowing.

I am freer… more alive. And I don’t know how to explain it.

Fortunately, Jurgen Moltmann did.

I found this paragraph in The Source of Life, a phenomenal book about the Holy Spirit. Despite the fact that it is translated from another language, it is beautifully articulated. And it felt like a perfect explanation of the new life and freedom that I am continuously encountering.

So… here it is. Here is my Jurgen’s explanation for what has been happening:

If we are seized by the Spirit of the resurrection, we get up out of our sadness and apathy. We begin to flower and become fruitful again, like the plants and trees in the spring of the year. An undreamed-of love for life awakens in us; we drive out the sweet poison of resignation, and our painful remembrances of death are healed. We encounter life again like children, in eager expectancy.

Before I write my next post on John 13-17, I thought it would be helpful to give you an overview of my working definition of hope. This will just help us be on the same page as I try to explain how Jesus’ words in these chapters are a message of hope.

Most simply, I define hope as a confident and joyful expectation for the future. Hope is desire. Here are some definitions that Webster gives us… my concept of hope is expressed in each of these:

1. to cherish a desire with anticipation
2. trust
3. to desire with expectation of obtainment
4. to expect with confidence

Biblical hope is birthed in the promises of God. Trusting His faithfulness and ability, we confidently expect and await the joyful fulfillment of those promises.

Psalm 37 is a beautiful hope Psalm. Again and again, David gives the exhortation to hope, articulating it from a slightly different angle each time. (Something we frequently find in the Psalms.) Rather than presenting a lengthy list of things that David thinks are a generally good idea, it further develops this uniting theme of hope or trust.

I see each of these phrases from Psalm 37 as an exhortation to hope:

• Do not fret
• Trust in the Lord
• Abide… and feed on His faithfulness
• Delight yourself in the Lord (… and He will give you the desires of your heart)
• Commit your way to the Lord
• Trust in Him
• Rest in the Lord
• Wait patiently (or longingly) for Him
• Cease from anger and forsake wrath
• Depart from evil and do good

I will not give a lengthy explanation of each of these and how they exhort us to hope, but I will happily clarify any of them if you ask.

My definition of hope actually came to life as my heart was resting in the book of Hebrews. Hebrews, as a whole, is all about hope. It, like Psalm 37, is a constant exhortation to hope, packed with beautiful articulations of the nature God. My time in Hebrews has resulted in the following conclusions (among other things):

• the concepts of COURAGE and encouragement/exhortation are closely linked with hope
• hope is manifest in OBEDIENCE
• hope sustains ENDURANCE
• hope is about PROMISE
• hope is BELIEVING
• hope requires FAITH in who God declares Himself to be
• … and a lot more than that, but we’re trying to keep this simple.

And, most significantly, I pulled this really simplified definition of hope out of Hebrews 3:6 – Hope is essentially CONFIDENCE AND REJOICING.

My favorite apostolic prayer is Romans 15:13. It reinforces this basic definition (in a chapter that similarly addresses themes of believing, courage, and promise):

Now may the God of HOPE fill you with all JOY and PEACE in BELIVING, so that you will abound in HOPE by the power of the Holy Spirit.

(The Holy Spirit aspect of all of this is pretty exciting, too, but I’ll wait for that, until I actually start talking about John 13-17.)

Each of the terms I have mentioned throughout this post always evoke the idea of hope when I hear them. And my definition of hope is a glorious swirly pool of all of those terms and concepts.

Hope. I love it.

My heart is still moving like crazy in John 14-16. My enjoyment of that passage has pushed me out a bit, to the surrounding chapters. John 13 offers some essential context and of course I want to spend some time in the concluding prayer of John 17.

So… I just wanted to write a quick post to let you know that my love for the passage has not faded and I still have every intention of following through with my former commitment to blog about it.

In a little while…

I feel like I use the same core set of adjectives for everything. That bothers me.

I have a friend who constantly agitates this frustration with the apparent shrinking of my vocabulary. He is brilliant, thinks about his words, teaches English, and starts crazy things like fasts from crutch words. (For the record, I am grateful for such agitation.)

I don’t have an action plan for this right now. But I felt like verbalizing this continuing frustration.

I need to start reading again. I miss books. My vocabulary misses books.