The Last Few Weeks of Ireland

In case you were wondering, I did not fly home from Ireland right away.

In March, I booked a roundtrip flight to Northern Ireland. I did not get my visa in the mail until the night before I left. So you can imagine my surprise when I discovered that my visa actually allowed me to stay in Northern Ireland longer than my DTS would last. When I arrived on my DTS, I learned that none of the other trainees had booked a roundtrip ticket, because none of them were sure how long they would stay afterward. I learned from my Bible college semester abroad in York, England several years ago that leaving right away could very well mean missing out on "firsts" and adventures with classmates. Also, DTS proved very fast-paced, which didn't leave much time or energy for sightseeing or exploring beyond the immediate area around the YWAM base. So I quickly decided that pushing my flight back an extra week or two would probably be a good idea.

So here's what happened after we got back from Outreach in Czech Republic:

Debriefing Week

We arrived back from Outreach through Dublin airport (Republic of Ireland), where staff picked us up and drove us back to the YWAM base in Rostrevor (Northern Ireland). We were tired, we were theoretically bedbug-free, and half our stuff was in stored a closet at the base. I was ecstatic to see misty rain first step out of the airport, but the others (unsurprisingly) lacked my rainy enthusiasm. We had the weekend to catch up on sleep, do laundry, and collect ourselves, before we started in on Debriefing Week.

Our first debrief was about what happened during Lecture Phase, and our second debrief was about Outreach Phase. We were given packets to complete to evaluate Outreach Phase and our DTS staff, were informed that our DTS staff and base staff would be evaluating us as well. After all the evaluations were complete, we met with one of the base staff to explain our evaluations and go over our results.

The second half of Debriefing Week had more to do with what would come next. We were warned of what to expect when we went home: what would be different, what people would probably ask us and expect of us, and how developing and facilitating Christian community would be more difficult than in our DTS bubble. We were also informed of YWAM opportunities that were now open to us, since we had successfully completed a DTS, and a sample support budget was laid out to us for those of us who might want to return to come on staff.

Those were all lecture-ish things. In addition, we resumed our base chores for the week, and we ran Harbour (the Monday night service on-base). Harbour was a chance for us to fill in the base and the Rostrevor community that had been praying for us, about what God had done during our Outreach. We each ran something different (i.e. worship, words on the screen, slideshow, MCing, etc.), and we each shared a personal testimony about what God had shown us on the trip. We had limited time, so we had to keep it brief. It was such a contrast from the first time we had done Harbour, right before we left for Outreach. Our attitudes were so much better, our hearts so much less rebellious, and we took everything in stride. It proved to us how much Outreach had truly changed our group dynamic.

Harbour was geared more toward encouraging those in Rostrevor, but there were prayer/worship sessions that were geared more toward us. In these sessions, we shared with the base staff about what we thought we would be doing next, and they prayed for us. Two of the five of us had already expressed their desire to come on staff before we even left for Outreach, but the other three of us were a little less sure. The two girls from Northern Ireland wanted to be connected to the base, but not a live-in part of it. One of them is getting married in December. The other is planning to finish beauty/massage school. But I think I speak for almost all of us when I say YWAM left us more and less sure of what we want to do than we thought. We came out more certain of our identity in Christ, more aware of other denominations, and more solid in our God-oriented perspective of where we are in the world. But as for what would immediately come next, and how much like our DTS mentality that would look, we were all a little hazy. Some of us just didn't notice how hazy until we got home.

On evening of Thursday of Debriefing Week, we dressed up all fancy and walked into our graduation. A long table was prepared for us in front of the stage like the bridal table at a wedding feast. My name card was in the middle of the table...which made me wonder whether I was supposed to be the bride or the groom, since there was a girl seated on either side of me. ;) We sang a song for our audience that we had sung with the kids on Outreach, and we watched a slideshow of our DTS. We also made double-sided signs to show what we were like before and after DTS, representing all the changes we went through during that time. And then we each were called up to receive our certificate.

Post-DTS Travels: The Northwest Coast of Ireland

As it happened, every one of us trainees stayed in the north of Ireland for the next week, but not all together. Lauren and Linda returned home to Banbridge, and eventually Nash and Malari joined Lauren.

I, on the other hand, chose to tag along with two of the base staff to visit some missionaries scattered along the northwest coast of Ireland. The region we visited, which is technically the Republic of Ireland, was very rural. On the outskirts or Ireland, traditional Irish culture is very much alive. Towns are small, many people raise sheep or cattle to make a living, being Catholic is an ethnic identity, and druidic practices and superstitions are just beneath the surface. In addition, the spiritual climate of the region is discouragement, depression, the inability to escape, and the sense of being forgotten by the rest of the world. The locals are extremely suspicious of outsiders looking to fit in, making missionary work exceptionally difficult and wearisome.

  

The first night we stayed with a couple YWAMers in Sligo, and the rest of the time we stayed with a couple running a retreat centre out of their home in Ballycastle. We also spent time with another YWAMer in Sligo, a minister in Ballina, and a psychiatrist visiting from Dublin. The missionaries informed us ahead of time that, because of the spiritual atmosphere of the region, what they really needed from us was not so much physical help as it was encouragement. They needed to know that they were not alone, that there were people who cared about them. They needed other Christians just to hang out with them, to talk with them, to eat with them. It was a huge reversal from the expectations of DTS Outreach. And I admit, I floundered a bit, not knowing how to meet the new expectations, unsure whether I was required to do anything. So I'm not sure how much help I was. But what I took away from that time were the stories--stories of spiritual battles with people placing curses on others, stories of the joys and challenges of ministering both abroad and in Ireland. These people sitting in front of me weren't just laypeople who rolled over when somebody asked them to step into ministry; these people were veterans of spiritual battle and had actively engaged the mission field in a variety of different settings. Yet here, they seemed to think the hardest, in a very different way.

Our time on the northwest coast wasn't all talk. We poked around the outskirts of the Céide Fields, an ancient farming community site which appears somewhat flattened now. Straight across the road from that was a lookout toward Downpatrick Head. On the way to our destination, we stopped by Saint Patrick's Well in Belcoo to refill our water bottles with fresh spring water, and on the way back we stopped to stretch our legs at Glencar Waterfall, and stare at the sheep grazing nearby.

Post-DTS Travels: Dublin, Republic of Ireland

Dublin was my last stop before flying home. I spent a week there, visiting Phil and Cheryl Kingsley. One of my first days, the Kingsleys took me to see Powerscourt and Malahide Castle--two famous tourist sites within reasonable driving distance. By the time we made it to the castle, the doors were closed, and even the gift shop was closing up, so we just took some classic pictures in front of the castle door. But I wasn't too sad, because our tardiness was likely due to my enthrallment with Powerscourt. In terms of history, visiting the Powerscourt estate is much like visiting a southern plantation: You appreciate the ornate beauty knowing that the average person did not enjoy such luxuries, which may have caused workers to resent those who did. But knowing that the average person could never afford to live in such a way is almost what makes it so attractive. It makes it like a dream.

  

The Kingsleys live on the outskirts of Dublin, but I did spend some time in Dublin itself. I wandered around Trinity College, and I paced through most of the National Museum of Archaeology. I also had lunch with the sister of an old childhood friend--which is funny, because neither of us ever dreamed the other would end up in Ireland, let alone at the same time and place.

Flying Home

God granted me a lot of grace coming back to Ireland from Outreach Phase. I experienced reverse culture shock then. I loved Czech Republic, in a way I did not expect, but Ireland is a much warmer culture; it is more hospitable, because it is more focused on people and long-term relational ties. Czech Republic was, in some ways, much closer to American culture: efficiency-oriented, and keeping ones business to oneself. After that, Ireland was startling. Of my 4 weeks in Ireland after Outreach Phase, two weeks of those were spent on the YWAM base (which is a culture unto itself), and the other two weeks were not enough for me to acclimate (largely because I still needed a lot of downtime to process).

Leaving the base to take the bus by myself to Dublin was a new experience, but after riding public transportation regularly in Prague it did not seem so large a feat. Even riding the Dart into Dublin and walking around the city by myself was fine. But the bus ride from Dublin to Belfast Airport was different. I got up at 4am to catch my bus at the airport at 5:20am. The first bus took me into Belfast, and that was fine. It was the bus from Belfast city to the Belfast International Airport that was a roller coaster ride for my emotions. The fear of leaving Ireland, which God had so graciously suspended when I went on Outreach, came filtering back in, and soon I was fighting within myself not to jump off the bus--even when it was in the middle of nowhere. The farther east we went, the more pull I felt toward Derry/Londonderry; the closer we drew to the airport, the more desperate I grew to stay on this isle. I had to remind myself over and over again that my visa was running out--that I had to leave in order to be able to come back. It was little consolation, but it kept me on the bus.

Flying with United Airlines was my first semblance of American culture shock, and landing in Newark, NJ was my second. As I ate my lunch in the terminal, I tried to block out the two loud men near me--one on his phone, one talking to his friend--who were complaining about things not going their way, for all to hear. It's not even like they were the loud teenage American tourists that most of Europe found annoying; these were grown men, with "stable" lives, living the "American dream." Being forced to listen to them made me not even want to eat. I could only hope returning to Northern California would not make me feel the same.

Thankfully, it didn't. My church body was warm and welcoming, and surprised me with questions of when I would go back to Ireland. They wanted to hear all about my trip. They accepted it as part of my life, and part of my future, not just a temporary trip.

I settled down well enough in my parents' extra room. But I settled in adaptation mode, knowing all my stuff was in storage and everything I sustained myself with before was gone. I didn't realize God wasn't done transforming me yet on the inside, where no one else could see the struggle.

Recap of Outreach Phase

First, I would like to apologize for not having updated this blog in quite some time. There was very little time between Border Walk and the international traveling part of Outreach Phase, in which I had to do laundry, pack, clean the room I was staying in on base, etc. I attempted to update, but I was tired and could not find the focus. Then when we went on Outreach, I left my computer behind intentionally (because it's heavy, and I figured it would be safer and less hassle that way), but when I switched cars on the way to the airport my phone fell out of my lap...which means that I was phone-less for the entire month and a half of outreach. No connection to the "outside world": Imagine my parents' panic. My teammates were generous enough to let me use their phones to update my Facebook. But without my iPhone app, updating this blog became impossible.

Second, I would like to THANK YOU FOR YOUR PRAYER, and to assure you that YOUR PRAYERS HELPED!!! As anyone who has gone on a mission trip knows, outreach is no picnic. Our enemy loves to get us ruffled, or get us all up in arms, or take us out completely--and I assure you, there are many, tailored variations of each. Despite difficulties on the trip, however, I found myself stunningly calm, and there were even times when God used me to encourage my teammates with a new perspective. There were also various times when things did not seem to go as planned, but God made things run smoothly, and even brought good out of it. In many ways, I feel like I coped way better during Outreach Phase than I did in Lecture Phase. And that can be only thanks to prayer. So, thank you. :)

So much happened during the last 2 months that it would take a lengthy blog entry EVERY DAY to even semi-capture it. Each day easily felt like 3 in 1, so that by nighttime, remembering the events of the morning felt like thinking back to days ago. So, for the sake of your sanity (and mine), I will try to summarize as briefly as I can the main points of each segment of Outreach Phase. Keep in mind, however, that we were in Czech Republic for almost a month, and much happened there, so that summary will inevitably be longer. Skim over what you know from previous entries and Facebook, fill in what you don't know...I'm not offended if you don't read the whole thing, but I figure it's better if I write enough so you know what you invested in.

Border Walk 2014

200 miles (350km) of crisscrossing the international border between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland! Our passports were not really necessary, as there was no one to check for them, but we did have to pay for snacks (and occasionally to use bathrooms) in a different currency every time we crossed the border (pounds sterling vs. euros). A couple nights in Darkley we got to sleep in beds, but the rest of the time we slept in our sleeping bags in one big room, either on the floor or stretched across a line of chairs, in a church building or reconciliation centre. There were a few staff members who were responsible for driving our luggage from one town to the next, and delivering snacks and water to us on the road, as well as meal-planning and buying food to make.

The honest truth is that many of us were unable to walk the entire 200 miles; our bodies simply would not let us without sustaining too much damage. There was not one person who did not get blisters. My tennis shoes were too worn to last for so many miles, so though I brought them along just in case, I walked in my waterproof Merrell boots from R.E.I. for the entire border walk, in doubled-up socks...and only got two blisters, which never got infected. (So, again, thank you SO MUCH for your avid prayers!) I did, however, mess up my Achilles tendons somehow. My calves were fine once they warmed up, though tired (along with my hip-flexers, and the rest of my legs), but it slowly became apparently that flimsy ankles was not my real problem. With many miles still in front of me, I had to make a decision: push it today and pay for it tomorrow, or rest today and be able to walk several more days in a row. I chose to rest...and then discovered that it was going to take more than one day of rest to heal me. Again, I had a choice to make: Wait out the rest of the days, and walk into London-derry/Derry--which was the REAL destination in my heart--or be macho and try to bulk out the rest of the walk (and probably fail before I reached Londonderry/Derry). I decided that Londonderry/Derry was too important. I waited, helping the staff with their errands and such, and then walked the last 15+ miles into Londonderry/Derry.

During the border walk, I learned a couple very important things about myself. First, on the 21-mile day (which we suspect ended up more like 23 miles...gotta love Irish milemarker signs and their estimations), the scenery became extremely beautiful as we traversed a wilderness area, but that road came with hills--lots of them. We carried with us on the border walk a large wooden cross with Bible verses and encouragements written on it--a universally recognizable symbol of bringing Christ through the land and of dying to ourselves--which, thankfully, had wheels (although we suffered many jokes from the locals about there not being wheels on the original cross). This means that not only did we have to go up all these hills, but so did the cross. We took turns carrying it. But at one point, fresh from having rested the day before and adrenaline pumping in anticipation of having to do something hard, I looked up at the hill in front of me, and said, "I can take that hill." And I got up my momentum, and I just went. And then I got to the top of that hill, and looked down, and saw people struggling with the cross. I looked at it and thought, "I should carry that." So I waited for them to catch up, and then I took the cross. I asked Jesus to help me...and I took it over every hill, until we got into a beautiful valley that looked untouched by people. It felt easy. It shouldn't have been, but it was. And later that day, I realized: I have a bull-headed personality like Caleb in the Old Testament, when the Israelites were divvying up the land of Canaan to conquer--I pick the hard thing, and go straight for it. As long as the going is hard, I'm ahead of everybody else. But as long as the going is easy, I fall behind, and I lose focus.

While I was forced to rest, I was reminded of how much I hate not being able to do what everyone else can. I also learned that it was easy for me to put my head down, block out God, and plod forward with a single-minded determination when things get painfully mundane (i.e. walking on an empty road on sore feet for miles, the countryside starting to blur together and everything look the same). It took being forced to sit out in order to not only listen to what God was saying that I didn't want to hear, but also to be outside of the happenings enough to discern what was going on in each place, and to actually contribute helpfully to the group.

There was also that time when we walked behind the Orange Men, and I asked God to make it rain... You'll have to ask me about that story when I get back. ;)

Germany

"Wha-whaaat? Germany? That wasn't on the list!" No kidding. But since we got stuck there for three days because the storm cancelled our connecting flight, and since stuff about Germany kept coming up during our whole trip, I figured Germany was prevalent enough to make the list. There was definitely something of a German theme going on. We were stuck in the airport in Frankfurt while the German team was playing in the World Cup in Brasil...and they won. Most of the Albanian kids we worked with had dreams of escaping to Germany. In the Czech Republic, I had a conversation with an American missionary who had stayed in Germany for awhile, and he told me that although the German people are very structured, they are actually very passionate on the inside. (Interesting.) And then there was the WWII concentration camp we visited, also in Czech Republic. And then last week, a missionary I visited in Ballina (in the Republic of Ireland) was talking about having served as a missionary in Germany. Talk about recurring themes...

I had a hard time with being in Germany, because I don't actually like Germany. I have nothing personal against the country. It's just that I've been there before, and I didn't like the atmosphere then either. (It doesn't really help that I found myself sinking into a rhythm there, because their national tendency toward structure is my internal tendency--a tendency I have been trying to break free of.) Being stuck there wouldn't have been my first choice. But when our plane first landed in Frankfurt, God pressed on my heart to pray for the people. You can imagine how thrilled I was at the time. But I think He's been changing my heart. As to why, only time may tell.

Being stuck in Germany did, however, provide us a nice break after the strains of border walk, forcing us to rest when we would have otherwise run straight ahead. Because the airline cancelled our flights AND everyone else's, we stood in line with perhaps a couple thousand other people for 5-6 hours...and then they ended up giving everyone hotel vouchers. So we stayed in two nice hotels (two nights) for free. And we met some interesting people in line, including Paouvolos (I'm probably spelling his name atrociously) from Lithuania--talk about a divine appointment. The sad part was, we were all stuck in the same clothes for 3 days. Yuck.

Durres, Albania

When going to Albania, it was obvious to me that I was going there not as a destination, but to follow Jesus; Jesus was walking into Albania (in a manner of speaking), so I would too. Albania was hard for me, for two particular reasons. First, I don't know if you realize this, but Albania is HOT, and Ireland is NOT! We had no air conditioning, and though we had a nice flat to stay in, we had only one fan between the 8 of us and 4 rooms (that's including the living room/kitchen area). We were literally dripping sweat all the time, whether inside or outside--except in the sanctuary/auditorium, which was often air conditioned. I took cold showers before bed to help me cool down and sleep, but it was not long before I was sweating again. If you know anything about me, you know that heat and I do NOT mix well together; usually I just stop functioning altogether (but, by God's grace, this time I did not--again, thank you for your prayers).

The other difficult thing for me in Albania had to do with the men--not the Christian guys (they were like another breed entirely, truly set apart from the world), but the guys on the street. Although it used to be a proud Christian country, Albania has been through communism, and has a very large Muslim population. Both of those elements add to the overall atmosphere and mindset of the country, though I'll leave you to decide how much. And Albania relies heavily on tourism, particularly in summertime (and there is sex trafficking). But the men...let's just say that I watched groups of men sitting around tables watch a girl cross the street like a pack of hungry dogs, and that we were told not to make eye contact with any men we passed on the street because it would give them the wrong idea. I mean, I know men have a lot of temptations to deal with, but I'm just not used to this kind of mentality. It made me perpetually tense. Getting stalked down the beach didn't help. I was told that because of my skin tone, I could pass as an Albanian, which made me want to be extra careful because I wasn't sure "I'm a foreigner" excuses would be able to get me out of trouble.

When we got to the place we were staying in Durres at 3am on our lesson prep day, having lost a travel recooperation day, we were able to sleep in...but then we quickly realized that we had not planned everything to a "T" the way we should have for the coming week. For whatever reason, we had been under the impression that we were only teaching during the week, and hanging out with the kids the rest of the time. In reality, we were supposed to run the entire week, including games and workshops, and have everything scheduled into exact time windows. In addition, I had agreed to teach on a second topic (Sin, Repentance, and Forgiveness--which I had not yet studied for) besides my original topic of Intercession, and those teaching days would be back-to-back. My responsibility on the trip was meal-planning, so I needed to make a lot of trips to the local store (though, thankfully, I had help). And then I got a cold. Talk about crazy!

Two highlights: First, God really developed my gift of teaching. Thus far, I had only ever tutored people, or maybe given a testimony or told a story, or done a school presentation; I had never actually taught a session before. It was like teaching a class of all ages, without knowing how much your students understood of what you were saying, and trying to simplify your wording so that it could be accurately translated. The first time I taught, I quickly learned that we had grossly overestimated the amount of time it would take to translate, and that I needed more colorful examples instead of just material. By the time I taught the next day, on my original topic, I actually went over my time instead of under.

The second highlight was when we visited the families of some of the kids. The family that I visited was so incredibly hospitable and generous to us. They welcomed us warmly and accepted us in as part of their family, sharing with us whatever they had and even asking us to stay the night with them. All three of us who went to that house were so touched...We were due back in an hour, and we stayed for five.

I also want to share that the kids themselves were probably the greatest encouragement of all. A 19-year-old youth pastor, a 16-year-old youth leader, a 14-year-old worship leader... My gosh, how God is raising up these kids! I met 14-year-olds more mature than many people in their twenties. When was the last time you went to a church where the worship team on a Sunday morning was made up of teenagers? I tell you, God is calling teens, and they are rising to the challenge. It's going to revolutionize men in that country.

Uvaly & Prague, Czech Republic

   

I'll be honest: I fell in love with this place, and I didn't realize how deep that went until our last day in Prague. Sure, we got bedbugs the size of ladybugs in a hostel (whose bites I turned out to be allergic to--thank you for your anti-bug prayers!), and I caught bronchitis, and there was so much cigarette smoke on the streets of Prague that my throat began to close. And yes, the city of Prague transforms at night, and becomes another animal entirely...and yes, it is known for its clubs and its prostitution as well as its tourism. And yes, the Czech Republic is considered the most Atheist country in Europe, and WWII and communism have swept through and left behind a lot of internal damage. But I stinkin' love the Czech people. And their country and their architecture are beautiful. So much creativity. So much detail. So much passion for life--though I think, sometimes, they don't see it in themselves (but it's still there).

We spent the first week in Uvaly, a small town about 45 minutes outside of Prague. We, and many missionaries from various mission organizations and walks of life around the world, joined together to help the small Christian community in Uvaly host their annual week-long English Camp. The day camp was like a cross between a Vacation Bible School program and teaching English by exposure. The kids were divided up by age groups and then by gender, with an English-speaking camp counselor and a translator assigned to each group. The youngest kid was probably six, the oldest being high schoolers. We were asked to request ahead of time the age group we preferred. I requested teens, which I was granted. The teens were with everyone for worship, and lunch, and for the parent presentation at the end of the week, but all other sessions or workshops were done as a combined group of teenage boys and girls, separate from the younger kids. Because boys and girls were combined, I had a male co-leader, and we each had a translator. To my great surprise, my co-leader and I turned out to have a lot in common, as far as how we had ended up where we were currently. And, since he lives in Prague as an English teacher, and Prague was my team's next destination, we ended up meeting up with him several times after English camp was over, all but adopting him into our team.

English camp was a lot of fun, even with some language barriers. Because I was with teenagers, they had a better grasp on English than the younger kids, and were often able to translate for one another, so we were more able to have conversations. They were also rather thrilled to discover that I am from California. ;) At least two of the girls in my group were writers, which was something we had in common. The other English camp staff were fun to converse with as well, especially to hear stories of their ministries and experiences. Camp itself could be stretching, making sure we knew where the kids were at all times, trying to cross language barriers to have meaningful conversations, and as counselors we had to share a testimony every day along a certain theme. While I was glad for the given themes, as it gave me direction, it was startling how personal it felt to delve into my life and pull out personal struggles to bare before people I had just met. Still, I think it was good to do so, because sharing such things builds trust. I only hope some of it sank in, and was helpful.

The first couple nights in Uvaly, we stayed in a hostel. The rest of the time, we stayed with host families. My host family was lovely. :)

Prague in high tourism season was an entirely different experience, and outreach was not like your classic "mission trip." Think city missions--closer to how you would do ministry at home. I think that was actually really good for us, both as a team, and for me personally. You see, when you go somewhere like Thailand for ministry (which I have done before), you expect to see crazy stuff--outright demonic activity, and the brandished hand of God. But when you go somewhere like a big city in a non-third-world country, the reality is that many people are either completely closed off to God, or they engage in the occult behind-the-scenes. How do you confront something subtle like that? Lucky for me, I spent the last couple years of my life in a cityscape, with people who are earnestly seeking for ways to do just that in their living and working communities, and many of the strongholds in Prague (like depression, or wild abandon--and there are many more) are strongholds that I have already had to deal with in my own life. But for my team, most of them had their hearts set on seeing mind-boggling miracles--which probably would have happened if we had gone somewhere like Thailand. But God had another plan: to show us ministries that were just as powerful right where we were at.

You see, we miss the effectiveness of things like playing worship in a park until two homeless men join us with a guitar, or a homeless couple dances to the music like nobody's watching. We forget that we're loving people by dancing chest-to-chest, cheek-to-cheek with the man who smells--that, in effect, we are actually loving God by doing these things. We don't realize that that medical student is the same guy who is passing out fliers for a strip club to support himself, or that that prostitute over there counts her self-worth by whether or not she makes enough money to send back to her kid in Bulgaria. We see the rampant atheism, and we think that God has abandoned the city--that there is no hunger for God. But there is. We don't see the three older ladies gathering at 7am to pray at the head of a street that was filled with debauchery and drunk on sex the night before. We don't see the woman lingering with her stroller on the edge of our worship circle in the park, faking like she dropped something she has to pick up. We are so blind, we just don't see.

How can we do ministry, if we can't see? Why do you expect people to hear you from a street corner, when you do not love? What do you already have, that you're not giving away? It could be as simple as drawing a picture, and handing it to someone. It could be as simple as playing a guitar in a park. It could be as simple as sitting next to a scary-looking stranger on a bench, or handing the man with no legs a sandwich and sitting with him as he eats it. It could be as simple as shaking hands with a drug addict who is not wearing much under her trench coat. Why, oh why, don't we see?

On the Eve of the Border Walk

Lectures have now drawn to a close; the weeks of routine teaching intermixed with chores are over. Two out of us seven trainees have gone home with the end of the season. I write on the eve of a new chapter: the Border Walk.

As I mentioned in my last entry, the Border Walk is literally a prayer walk along the border between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland--one island, two countries. Technically, Northern Ireland is part of the United Kingdom, and the Republic of Ireland is an independent member of the European Union, but the divide between the two countries is not monitored by any kind of border control. This will allow us to crisscross freely back and forth across the border. Here is a list of the cities we will be passing through and staying in, in order:

• Rostrevor (the YWAM base; our starting point)
• Newry
• Crossmaglen
• Darkley
• Lisnaskea
• Enniskillen
• Belcoo
• Belleck
• Kesh
• Castlederg
• Strabane
• Londonderry-Derry (known as "Londonderry" to the North, or "Derry" to the South)

This is what our schedule looks like, as far as miles go:

Please pray for physical strength, endurance, and perseverance for us as we walk 200 miles over a course of 16 days. For most of us, the DTS schedule has consumed almost all of our time, leaving little or no time for physical training. I, for one, am a bit concerned for the initial shock on my body. Practical things to pray against would be soreness, exhaustion, and blisters. There will be a couple luggage cars available to carry us if we are unable to go on, but we want to walk as far as we can, praying for peace and the cities we are walking through. We want to see God move mightily in these cities, and heal very deep wounds in the people. Blood has been spilled in these cities, and the people have far from forgotten it. Pray the love and Truth of God will not get buried under religious labels and political affiliations, and that the Spirit of God will move in these cities, rejuvenating them and bringing them back to life in His name. Pray that when people see us walking along the side of the road and ask us what we are doing, that God would open their ears and hearts to hear and see what He wants to do, and that He would put the right words in our mouths and help us to respond with wisdom and respect. Also pray that we will be able to find enough bathroom spots along the way. ;)

The days of walking will be long, and far, with few changes of clothes, and showers where we can catch them. We will be sleeping on the floors of churches and sometimes in people's homes, in our sleeping bags. The DTS will not be the only people doing this (base staff will be coming too, and people from the community can join), but most other people will only be joining on certain days; it is very unlikely they will walk the entire distance with us. For the second week, we will most likely be dragging a cross along with us.

We leave tomorrow morning. It is unlikely that I will have access to wireless internet during this time, so I will not be able to update until I get back. Please keep us in your prayers!

Being Turned Inside Out

I know I haven't written in awhile. To be honest, I haven't done a lot of adventuring during that time. What has been happening has been much more personal. God has been confronting me with not only the way I view Him and the ways that He works, but He has also been confronting me with the way I view myself, and how that reflects back upon Him. These are hard lessons to learn. If a person has grown up a Christian, they have looked at what has happened in their life, and the course on which their life has gone thus far, and they have drawn conclusions from this about how God works and what God wants to do with them. It is, for instance, way easier to "believe" that God is untamable, like Aslan, than to see the effects of the Spirit of God doing things that do not make sense to you. Your box of "Who God Is" and "What God Does" gets broken. Suddenly, God doesn't fit into the mold anymore. Suddenly, the Spirit of God seems a stranger. Who is this Spirit, and why is he working in a way that He hasn't before in my life? If He's not acting like I thought He always would, should I still trust Him?

That is a sampling of some of the questions that went through my head and heart a few weeks ago, and I would be lying if I said the issue has gone away. The temptation is to just say "yes" or "no," and then move on in that direction. But I don't want to do that. I want to carefully examine and consider what I am seeing. I want to test whether these things are of God. And if they are, that means I have some changing to do. If they're not, I still have some changing to do. Because you cannot see and acknowledge such things, and then act like they are not true; you have to respond. Otherwise, you don't grow, and what was the point of that experience anyway? So I want to not just discount or accept new principles and experience, but to broaden my understanding of God, and at the same time deepen my trust in Him.

Whether or not I agree with everything that I see, or that comes to mind, I believe it is my responsibility what I do with it as a possibility--how I handle it, how I respond to it, how I let it mold my views and affect my life. It is with this mentality that I have struggled through questions of just how wild the Holy Spirit is, what I can trust that I know for certain about God, and what lies the enemy has told me or conclusions I have drawn about myself upon which I have based my entire way of thinking. In the past three or four weeks, I have constantly been falling apart and being put back together--not a state conducive to accurate and fruitful communication to others, but certainly a necessary state of metamorphosis.

I came here intending to lose myself in the culture. I am indeed losing myself, but it is not the culture here that I find changing me. God has seen what I have done to myself in the name of chasing after His glory and being pleasing in His sight. He has seen to the real core of issues that I once dug up in my limited understanding. I tried to fix things according to what the Bible said, and according to what people told me what they saw of me. I tried to blend in with culture at home. But that is not what God wanted for me. Perhaps that is not what He ever intended.

If I have prayer requests, they are these: To be open to the full depth of God's love, not frightened of how overpowering it is, or its grip on me; to be positively responsive to it, as He picks up things in my heart that I would rather destroy or let collect dust on a shelf than even look at (let alone deal with). That my spirit would line up with my body, rather than feel trapped in it. And that my physical body (and my emotions and spirit, I suppose) would hold up under the strain of early mornings and long days of focus. (My body has already given out periodically over the last couple weeks. It seems to be doing better now; I can only hope and pray that continues.)

We have two weeks until our Outreach Phase begins. The first 16 days of our 2-month Outreach will be what we are calling the "Border Walk." This involves us walking the entire 200-mile border of Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland, crisscrossing between the two countries so that we spend each night in a different city in the alternate country. (Remember that although it's all on the island of Ireland, as we walk this line we ARE technically crossing an international border [even though passports will not be an issue], and all the Irish know it. So please pray against prejudices, especially for our two Northern Irish teammates as we go repeatedly into the Republic.) The Border Walk is actually a prayer walk, praying for reconciliation, and we will be carrying a large wooden cross with us as we walk and pray. Word is the smallest distance we will travel in one day is 8 miles, and the largest distance is 22 miles. As most of us are out of shape, and have tennis shoes that are not ideal for such long stretches of walking, the distance we are covering on foot seems rather formidable. Please pray for strength (physical, emotional, and spiritual), that even in our weakness we will be able to love on each other and on others, and that as we walk God will show us what we need to pray for and put people in our path who are hungry for the change that only God can bring.

Organizations, Bible Schools, Friars, & Horses...& Snails

Here I am, a week after our midterm outreach weeks, finally done with my book report! At last I can update, and there are so many things to say! As that could be rather lengthy, I will try to keep it comparatively brief.

For those of us who went to Dublin for a week, we have universally agreed that if we wanted to sum up the outreach in one sentence, we would say, "We met a lot of people." That seems so generic, but that is really what we did for the entire time. We did help out with a youth group at the Presbyterian church in Lucan on Monday, helping set up a game for the kids, and then telling a little about ourselves and where we were from, and sharing a Bible verse that meant a lot to us and why. That was particularly cool, because we were told the kids were from both Protestant and Catholic backgrounds, which is close to our heart of reconciliation between the two groups. But the rest of the week was geared toward connecting with people from different churches and ministries.

We met people who had already gotten their unusual missions up and running, like a man who had started a coffee shop called Third Space as a way to provide a space for people to hang out comfortably, and a bridge between high-rise office buildings and a rough-and-tumble neighborhood. The heart of the coffee shop is Christian, yet they function as a secular business, and the people in the community have accepted it as a safe place to call their own, even pitching in money to buy patio furniture. (It's really quite remarkable.) And then we met people who had grand ideas for unique ministry, like a pastor whose church owns a nearby building that he wants to turn into a place of art ministry, including a dance school. We ran into Amnesty International representatives on the street, raising awareness to combat FGM, and we met with a representative of ACET who works with people and their families who have HIV. We visited the Irish Bible Institute, and they ended up introducing us to Tear Fund (which was in the same building), which teaches poor people in Africa a trade (so they can work to feed themselves) instead of just feeding them. We met a representative from a ministry that is telling street kids about Jesus and taking them under their wing, as well as starting family camps to be more intentional about ministering to families. And we met Phil Kingsley, a member of GEM, an old friend of my parents, a teacher at the Bible Institute, and someone I had been in contact with about Ireland before I joined YWAM.

There were a couple days, as well, that we helped around the Lucan Centre itself. The Centre is getting all its ducks in a row (so to speak) so it can house retreats, and we wanted to do what we could to help. Mostly that involved reorganizing and data entry.

As you can see, our exposure to different types of ministries in Dublin (and Lucan) was rather broad. And at the Lucan Centre alone, we met Irish, South African, and American staff. So, we experienced lots of diversity.

Then we drove back up to Rostrevor (about 3 hours?), had one day to sleep, do laundry, and repack, and we headed back down to the Republic (this time with our entire DTS, including the people who had gone up to Belfast instead of Dublin) to Limerick, which was even further south than Dublin.

Limerick, I think, was probably my favorite experience thus far, in the entire DTS experience. I concluded that it was, in fact, exactly the sort of thing that I came here to Ireland to do. You see, unlike the official "Midterm Outreach" week before it, the week we were in Limerick we actually had lectures, but the lecture each day was taught by a different one of the friars. Because we were, in fact, at Saint Patrick's Friary in the neighborhood of Moyross.

Now, if you have ever heard the Irish talk about Limerick, they all seem to know exactly where it is, and they all seem to know something about it that you don't if you have never been there. It seems to be an Irish culture marker of some sort, because it is far enough south and away from Dublin to have its own culture, but you can detect in people's tone that there is something there that they have found less than exemplary.

What I found about Limerick, is that it is quite black and quite white. That is to say, if you drive downtown, as we had to every day to get to and from the empty three-story flat where we rolled out our sleeping bags, you will see dozens of quaint or expensive-looking shops, and if that was all that you saw, the impression you might get would be of a much cleaner, extraordinarily tamer New Orleans. That is to say, the three- and four-story buildings are all connected and all of almost the same style, but are painted differently, and the shops vary colorfully from one another, and you (as a tourist) feel compelled to check out each one, lest you miss something unique. But the closer you get to Moyross, the more spread out things become, with wide open green fields in between, and you start seeing random rows of flats clustered together with horses tethered to the grass in between. You might occasionally see a person driving a horse-drawn carriage in a field, or a teenage boy riding his horse bareback down the paved street, with cars lined up behind him. There is, of course, also the polar opposite end of the city, with farmland and woods rolling over the hills and down to the River Shannon, the long grasses dotted with sheep and some horses--absolutely breathtaking.

So then, you definitely have the working class or the rich, and the poor. White and black (and I don't mean that racially).

The city government (or the City Council, as the Irish would call them--Council for short) has painted Moyross black. Looking at the gang activity and the shootings and the druggies and the stray dogs and the illegally-tethered horses and ten violent deaths in the vicinity, the Council (which owns most of the flats there) would rather just evict people and spread them to different areas, knock down the houses, and let a freeway run through. There is already only one road into Moyross, and one additional footpath from a neighboring hood separated by what must be acres and acres of grass, in an effort to protect the surrounding areas. Into the heart of this moved the Franciscan friars. Yes, I mean the guys in the long brown/gray robes with the rope belts and the wooden beads swung across their hips. Having taken vows of poverty and chastity, they moved into one flat the Council freely allowed them to stay in (which was actually three made into one), and turned another flat into a youth center for the kids of Moyross. The impact their mere presence has had on the neighborhood is astounding. Older kids began to rethink their lives. Younger kids had a place to hang out without getting in trouble. All of the above had someone to look up to, and they (and the adults as well) had someone to trust.

I must say that never in my entire life have I seen anyone serve the way these four men do. It has changed my view of servanthood under Christ forever. Because servitude is not a task or a burden for these men, or even a way of life; it is who they are. And to be served by such men is a very humbling and heart-searching experience--especially that moment when you realize they are giving you all these good things, but everything they have has been given to them, and for at least some of it they may have had to beg (their own words, though not flaunted).

Going to Limerick, we (from YWAM) were much like little children trotting at the heels of the friars, marveling at all the doors that opened up before us just because we were with the friars, whom everybody knew and loved and invited in. We could say we did yard work at their hermitage, or we weeded their back garden, or we staffed at the youth center, or we helped make dinner. But really we just joined them for things, I think. They treated us like co-laborers, and we treated them with the respect of people we know have a lot to teach us about life in general, let alone reverence for God. One could argue certain theological points, of course, such as Mary, if one was feeling particularly argumentative. But when confronted with their servants' hearts, I think, such things are rendered irrelevant, and all theological arguments are silenced.

What I enjoyed most, I think, was getting to know Irish people closer to our age (as a group), and through them being exposed to Irish culture. Drying dishes with them, walking the streets of Moyross with them, hearing them talk about their neighborhood and their experiences, meeting their moms, trying their seawater-boiled snails, getting my accent corrected (apparently you drop the "h" in "th"), and begging them to sort out for us the muddled accents of the younger kids at the youth center. I really wish we had gotten to spend more time with them, because I wanted to get to know them better, and because these were the kinds of things I wanted to ditch from my culture and learn about theirs.

When we returned to the YWAM base in Rostrevor, many people expected us to be tired, and I'm sure some of us were. But coming back from Dublin, and then from Limerick, I found myself energized, revitalized, and dreading a return to "normal" life. Arriving back from Limerick, instead of being happy to be home, a longing for the people back in Limerick settled into my heart. I missed them, I realized. They had sunk into my heart, and I now felt less connected to the people on-base than I did to the people in Limerick. I was ready to go out again. Although no fan of sleeping on an air mattress with my head propped against the foot of a couch, it was worth being away, and somehow I preferred that.

What has happened to me, that school is so difficult for me to get along with, and outreach is so palatable? This is a process that predates YWAM for me, I think. It's part of why I walked away from community college. It's that moment when you realize that what is excellent for everybody else, is not excellent for you. Maybe some people don't have that moment. But for me, it just keeps getting confirmed over and over again.

Welcome to Lucan

Today is Day 2 of midterm outreach! We left Rostrevor at 8:30am yesterday, and crammed awkwardly into a van with all our luggage and food packing us in like sardines (and my feet on the armrest between the front seats, since there was nowhere else to put them). We drove for a couple hours, rocking out to music, and arrived at the Lucan Centre still in the morning...at which point the clouds decided to downpour. Norman, our host, have us a tour of the Centre, after which we were elated to discover that we had the rest of the day to relax. Coming off of a crazy week, and having to get up early on a Saturday morning (our one day to usually sleep in), a day of relaxation was just what we needed before jumping into a new week with both feet. And naturally, after we discovered that laying on our beds was much akin to laying on clouds, we all gravitated toward naptime. In the evening, we spent some time meandering around the town of Lucan, which ended in McDonalds when it got dark (since that was one of the only places that was open).

This morning, we went to a nearby Presbyterian church, and got to talk with people after, and them came back to the Centre for a tasty barbeque. Later, we will go on a prayer walk around Lucan. Tomorrow, our week begins in earnest.

It is a privilege to be in another place that has a history of Christians reaching out to the local community, and has a vision for reconciliation, just as An Cuan used to be the Christian Renewal Centre all through the Troubles. The Lucan Centre used to be the Lucan Youth Centre. It's hard not to feel the history, and the potential. They have great expectations for what the Lord will do through this place. It is an honor to be here during the changing of the tides--both in An Cuan (the YWAM base), and now in Lucan Centre. I look forward to seeing what the Lord will do next, who He will raise up, and when.

In the meantime, the Lord continues to prepare me for whatever ministry He has for me. I feel much like a leaf caught in the wind of the Spirit, as He blows me along, on a sure gust between one prepared place and the next. Please continue to pray that this week He will not only keep our group, our hosts, and those we meet and minister to safe from the enemy, but that the Lord will continue to assure us of our identity in Him, and that He will show us our individual gifts and help us to walk in them even as He knits us together as a group. In this week we may be stretched in many areas, stepping into or being confronted with ideas or ministries that we have never really considered or experienced before. Please pray that wherever we walk, the Lord will Himself shed Light and refreshment, and that unique, exquisite fragrance of Christ that we have been so enthralled by, and that we and everyone around us will feel His presence and see Him high and lifted up.

Freedom Week

It's starting to sink in for all of us that we have been here at the YWAM base in Northern Ireland for a month. Since we talk about this as lecture week four--meaning we're on our fourth DTS speaker--it seems like so short a time that we've been here. But when I read through my journal assignment from last week, what I was learning then felt so long ago. As I mentioned to a couple staff here, by the time I go back to the States I will probably feel I have aged 10 years, and you all back home will have to remind me that it has only been 5 months.

This week is called "Freedom Week," and it is special because we have four speakers (instead of one) from a church in London (rather than from YWAM). So far they started with our identity (who God designed each of us individually to be), and worked their way up to spiritual warfare (the lies of the enemy, strongholds, the soul-body-spirit makeup, things we hold onto in our hearts that have unknowingly affected us deeply and how Satan uses those things as footholds). Although there have been a few points I have disagreed on (mostly in regards to universal healing, and to proclaiming things into existence), much of this week has been review for me because I am no stranger to spiritual warfare.  Twice this week, time was set aside for our speakers to pray with us, with a ratio of one speaker and a couple base staff to one DTS student, about the issues of God's unique design in us and about strongholds in our lives. Both times I went into the prayer sessions unsure of what to expect, and therefore a bit uneasy, but the Lord worked both times, and I felt freer because of it.

In-country midterm outreach is in a couple weeks. The team is split in two, between Belfast and Dublin. I will be going to Dublin. I went to Dublin for a day trip last weekend, as you may have noticed from my Facebook posts, but that was a tourist trip with two fellow DTS-mates. This midterm trip will be something of a missionary cocktail for me: a sampling of several different types of missions that we will be exposed to and trying them on for size to see which (if any) fit me. Please pray that the Lord will show me what is and is not for me (for the long-run), and that He will put specific people in place as connections for me, and that the Lord will knit our team together in unity even now so that the enemy will have no opportunity to tear it asunder.

As for the actual Outreach Phase of our DTS, we will be walking the border between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland (which I am extremely excited about), then flying to Albania for two weeks, and then on to the Czech Republic for three weeks. I am particularly excited about the work we will be doing praying for people in the Red Light district in Prague, as that is something I have been secretly interested in trying for some time now. The Border Walk, which will be something of a prayer walk for reconciliation in Ireland, made the newspaper last time YWAM did it. It is about a 200-mile trek, so please pray for fitness, refreshment, and renewed strength, as well as that the Lord would bring to mind what specifically needs to be prayed for in each area we venture through. Outreach Phase does not begin until July, but I am sure that will creep up on us, as time is already starting to speed along. Thankfully, we will not need any new visas for our outreach countries, or any additional vaccinations.

I know some of you have been praying for me with regards to sleep. Thank you for your prayers! God is answering! He is granting me refuge from the nightmares. Please continue to pray, as I am sure Satan will try to find other avenues of attack as we draw closer to our midterm outreach.

One main theme that God continues to reiterate is His love for me. In light of the "Smile: Jesus loves you" stickers of childhood, this seems so elementary, so obvious, so cheesy. It's become a catchphrase. And, as a catchphrase, it has lost its potency. So we, as Christians, tend to turn in angst to the cross, to school ourselves into submission with the depressing death of Christ as an example of love. And that it is. But we forget that love does not leave us there, and we forget that God does more than that to love us. He could have stopped with the cross. Heck, He could have stopped before the cross! But He chose to do more. He chooses to intervene in our lives today. And in light of Easter, I think it's time we realized that we have a RISEN Christ, and a Jesus who is ALIVE can CONTINUE to love us ACTIVELY in ways that the world around us cannot attain to. The passion of the Christ is not just that Jesus died, or even that He rose; it's that THE STORY IS NOT OVER! It's that His passion is eternal, and lives on, and is not bound by our doubt and our self-deprecation and everything people have said and done to us. We forget that God is BIGGER than all of this, and that in rising from the dead to continue on eternally, He has proven it...And He continues to prove it to us every day. We just ignore Him most of the time. But what if we didn't? What would life be like then...?

Life, and life more abundantly: Shall we walk in it?