An un-calloused heart

It's my joy to lay my life down.
Cuz when I lose my life for your sake it will be found.

I've had this song playing in my head all morning and it seems to be the anthem of my heart over the past few weeks.

It seems that too often we trumpet the message of "sold out" devotion to Jesus and laying it all down for the sake of the Gospel; we all want to wow the world with our passion and vision for changing the world.  But we often forget that laying out lives down means a whole lot more than packing our suitcases to fly to some country, or being the first to run up to the altar at some big conference.  I'm pretty sure if you asked any goat or lamb who has ever laid down on the altar, they would tell you that the ambition to wow a bunch of people was the furthest thing from their minds!

Or let's look at what Jesus did.  John 15:13 says, "Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one's life for his friends."  What does it look like to lay your life down?  For this generation it often looks like joining an non-profit organization or jumping on the awareness bandwagon.  Or in my experience at ministry schools, it looks like pursuing the itinerate lifestyle - having your own ministry where you get invited all over the world to do big healing and prophetic events.

OK I'm not saying any of this is bad...  I am living a life that involves these elements to some degree.  However, the point I would like to make is - does this equate to the laid down life that Jesus was talking about?  Do our aspirations of becoming "rockstars" in the Christian (or non-Christian) world, fulfill our calling to sacrifice?

I've been pondering this idea of true sacrifice in regards to my life and where the Lord has placed me in this season.  What does laying my life down look like in the inner-city of Harrisburg, PA?  What does laying my life down look like living in a house of 20 some people?  What does laying my life down in the context of community and ministry?

I don't have all the answers, but if there's anything I've learned, even in my time living as an overseas missionary, it is that laying your life down for something or someone is very rarely a glamorous ordeal.  In fact, it usually feels hard - you would rather be doing anything other than sacrificing in the moment, and you hope for some excuse to get out of actually doing what you committed to do.  Or when you do sacrifice, it feels small and insignificant; nobody is watching you and you feel completely hidden.  And then there is the moment of shift when you realize all your ambitions of having 100 really amazing testimonies of how everything and everyone was transformed the minute you stepped onto the scene, actually turned into you sitting with one little kid who could care less about the craft that you had all planned out.

Maybe a harsh example...  But it is so true!  We want the glory stories.  Those are the ones people want to hear.  People don't necessarily want to hear about the one person you spent a couple hours with but didn't see converted.  But I believe that's what laying your life down looks like.  It means laying down every single ambition for personal glory.  It means throwing apathy out the window every... single... day.

I had a dream the other night and in my dream I was praying for someone and I kept declaring over and over again, "God, tear off the callus from their heart!"  I've been praying into that dream and it has become a prayer for myself.  God, tear off any callous that is on my heart!  I want to love like you loved, Jesus!  I want to lay my life down as you did, in order to love on the people you have called me to love on.  I do not want to live my life

So going back to the lyrics of that song, I find that although laying one's life down is anything but glamorous, it produces, however, the most joyous rewards a life could produce.  There is so much joy in the laying down of your own life ambitions in order to serve another person's life.  Learning to love like Jesus loves - sacrificial love - is our highest privilege.  We find our life's true meaning in that place.

I had all of this on my heart as I prepped for and served at the harvest party that we threw for the families in our neighborhood.  200 people showed up in the pouring rain to receive a free chili meal as well as a free professional family portrait.  The entire night I was running (literally) between the overcrowded kitchen full of pots of chili and the big white tents outside that were sheltering everyone from the freezing cold downpour, making sure that everything ran smoothly and everyone was getting fed.

I think back to the moments I was dragging trash bags out of the kitchen or was helping a mother of 3 carry her pie and chili to the table, and I wonder how I can even write a semi-interesting blog on something like that.  I didn't get to sit down for more than 5 minutes at a time to talk to the neighbors and love them like I would have liked to.  But... I saw them as they walked away and I saw the joy written on their faces.  I watched as our team sat in the cold to share a meal with the drug dealer or the single mom living in poverty.  I saw the children with their faces painted as animals, running around, laughing in delight.  It was such a dismal day for our much anticipated party, but love really did break through as each volunteer served in some small yet significant way.

When did it ever have anything to do with me?  When did the definition of sacrifice and servanthood ever involve self-gratification?  Ministry was never designed to somehow validate self-worth and self-importance.  How can we consider it humility when we take the low road while having the intentions of being seen, applauded and then promoted to the high seat of honor?  It's time to lay that all down and die!  If I'm never seen, if I never get patted on the back and if I never get favor or honor by men, I want to continue to see my life as a success before my Savior.  I want to lose sight of my life, in a sense.  But then I want to stumble upon HIS life and have that become the sight that my being is fixed upon.

John 12:24
Most assuredly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much fruit.

The lovely volunteers

Paradoxical

It was in the middle of a 24 hour Burn, during the 2-4 AM worship set, that the Lord began to speak to me about the paradox that I was about to step into.  I was laying out on the floor, soaking in His sweet presence, when He reminded me of a prophetic word that I received while I was at Bethel.

The picture was of me dancing on top of a gigantic map of the entire world.  This person told me, "You are called to the nations.  You are going to see transformation in the nations through your worship and dance.  But God wants you to know that you don't even have to wait until you are in the nations.  He is going to use you even from your home to release revival to the nations of the world."

As I was remembering this word, Jesus began to elaborate on a word that He gave me 2 years ago but was only now actually breathing upon.  He told me that He was calling me to be planted in a home.  He was not going to send me overseas again right away.  He told me that He was calling me to the house of prayer, the place of worship and intercession.  It was there that He wanted to truly give me His heart for the nations.  Even though I would not be living in the nations, He wanted to teach me how I could impact the world through worship while being planted in America.

It's one thing to have a heart for a nation when you are there living in that nation, surrounded by the culture, seeing up close all of the injustices that thrive in that place.  That becomes your reality and so your heart is forced to respond in some shape or form.   But what does that look like when you are back in the all-consuming reality of Western, American life?  You no longer see the faces, no longer have the conversations, no longer hear the cries.  It becomes a distant and "imagined" reality.  That is when you truly need God's heart in order to love all the peoples of the world.

I thought I had God's heart for the nations.  I mean, I lived in South America for 8 months.  I did the missionary thing.  I know the daily grind of being a long-term missionary.  But when I came back to America I had a massive reality check.  Did I really learn to love?  Am I even called to the nations?  At the end of the day, is it even worth it?  Is loving these people worth the pain?  What happens when I run out of love?

After months of wrestling with these hard questions, walking through dark days where I didn't know if I even wanted to love the nations, I saw that my own love was most definitely not enough.  My heart is only so big.  My love is only so strong.  It has a beginning and an end.  And once I reach the end, then what?  But His love is not so.

So why would He call me to a house of prayer in America if He wanted to give me His heart for the nations?  Therein lies the paradox that I find myself in the middle of.  I am learning that it is impossible to draw close to God's heart in the place of worship without getting His heart for the world.  The more time you spend gazing at this God of love, the more you come face to face with the emotions of His heart; you see what it is that His love is turned towards.  The place of intimacy with Jesus inevitably leads to a call to missions - whatever that looks like for each individual.  Some will be called to go live in a remote village, others will be called to the arena of business suits and ties; the point being that you can't fall in love with Jesus without falling in love with the world.

There have been different occasions in my life where I would say I experienced a very deep, emotional place of God's heart.  These have not been flowery, magical moments where I felt the "I'm on top of the world" kind of love for the nations.  They have been excruciatingly painful, anything but pretty, humiliating and unorthodox moments.  But I would so much rather be on the floor in a puddle of tears and snot and really know what God feels for the world, than to go "dancing through life, skimming the surface."

Now let it be known that I have the theology that God is in a good mood.  Too many people in the Church see God as an angry, old man who is waiting for us to mess up so He can punish us.  He is a far cry from that ridiculous image!  He is a God that delights in us with rejoicing, wild spinning and whoops of outrageous happiness over each of us.  That being true, He is neither one faced in His character, only being a God of joy.  God feels every emotion in it's fullest form for God is emotion in it's fullest form.  I feel like even less of the Church truly sees the weeping God.  We all love the joy and laughter that comes as we experience His delight, but not many of us would choose the suffering of God's heart.

But this is this is what He is looking for, and is one of the reasons He called me here in this season - He is looking for those that want to know what He feels, for those that He can trust with the deep things of His heart.  It is as we experience the deep emotions of God's heart that all self-motivation is ripped out of us.  If we rush into the nations without this key, it becomes too easy to lose sight of why we are doing what we are doing.  He wants to trust us with the nations, with strategies to solve all the problems of the earth, with a global harvest of billions of souls; but He first wants to see if He can trust us with His heart.

So as I find myself weeping on the church floor or in the quiet of my car in the city of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, wondering if the pain is worth it when I really can't do anything from where I'm at, Jesus simply whispers, "Exactly!  It's not about what you can do, how amazing you are at loving people, or the vision and passion you have to impact the nations.  You tried that, remember?  You are here to get my heart for the nations." 

So here I am, a 21 year old girl from Colorado, burning for worship and missions, living on the East Coast of the US, wondering how on earth I got out here.  But I find that I am smack-dab in the very middle of His will and there's no place I would rather be.  I don't want another encounter where I walk away unchanged.  I want to be so ravished by His heart of justice and compassion for the world that that becomes my every waking moment reality.  I know that it is worth it, so I keep saying Yes!!!

If you're ever in Salem during Halloween...

Salem, MA

Let me take you to a recent scene in the heart of New England.

It's the night before Halloween.  The late October temperatures cause the tourists and locals alike to wrap their jackets and scarves a little bit tighter.  The streets of Salem, MA are already beginning to fill with the throngs of people who have traveled to this small town for the annual witch festival.  This town truly revolves around witchcraft.  Whether it is seen as a real supernatural power or not, witchcraft thrives in Salem because of the tourist attraction that it has become.  It is a symbol, a Mecca, for those involved and intrigued by witchcraft.  But it is on one night during the year at the very end of October that over 100,000 people throng the quaint, village like Main St. in Salem.  And that's why we came.  On one of the darkest nights of the year, in a place that has become a hub for the spirits of darkness to gather, we come to burn brightly, passionately and continually.

We have gathered two blocks from where all the "festivities" will take place - rituals, seances, necromancy, a psychic fair, etc...  Tucked away in a beautiful brick church built over 125 years ago, the kingdom of heaven is breaking out in explosions of worship, praise and declarations of revival.  Somewhere between 60-100 people have gathered from all over the east coast to take part in a 60 hour, non-stop prayer and worship service.

This is what we call a Burn.  An unbroken sound of worship carrying on throughout the day and throughout the night.  Each worship set lasting 2 hours, some sets full of the rambunctious expression of celebration before the Lord, others sets carrying an atmosphere of stillness before the Lord as people rest in His presence or pray out the Scripture.  Different groups of people are assigned to the sanctuary to sustain the prayer and worship, while everyone else joins in or take short breaks in the back of the church.  Sleeping bags are unrolled in the basement and upper room of the church.  Sleep comes in very short shifts, but it almost feels like you aren't asleep but just soaking in the worship that echoes throughout the entire building all night long.   There is an eternal pot of coffee in the back of the church to help shake off the sleep before entering back into another worship set.  We do this because we believe there is a kingdom that is greater than the kingdom of darkness in Salem.  And we know that this kingdom, the kingdom of heaven, is attracted to the sound of passionate, abandoned worship released by hearts that are fully in love.

Wild dance party in the church

Back to the scene I was painting...

On this particular night, the night before Halloween, the night before the darkest night of the year, heaven is indeed invading this small church gathering.  It seems as though the hours of incessant worship has pierced through into greater realms of His glory.  It's something that really can't be fully explained, but when you are in the very middle of what is going on, you know that it is real; it's more real than even the darkness that surrounds us.  The spirit of fear and intimidation is completely cast off as some 100 people dance wildly to the tribal drum beats that bounce off the sanctuary walls.  Joy is spilling over the brim, threatening to flood outside of the building.  Shouts of victory released, banners of freedom raised, an appeal to boldly and fearlessly love the lost goes out amongst this body of radical people.  Anyone peering in through the stained glass windows at this very moment would be caught off guard by this almost frenzied scene.  We are not burying our heads in desperate prayer, begging God to show up.  We are rejoicing with the good news that He has already shown up and He wants to encounter and heal the lost, the broken, the prisoners, the witches and the psychics more than even we do.

Are you there with me?  Did you feel the excitement rising in your spirit?  Did your ears ring with hope and encouragement?  Did the picture of abandoned worship catch you up into His glorious presence?  Well it was with this sight still flashing in my mind, these sounds still ringing in my ears, and this experience filling my heart that I walked out onto the streets Halloween night.  It truly was a sight to see.  Around 50 of us marched out of the church, skipping with excitement, literally running towards the witches and psychics and every frightening scene imaginable.  As we arrived to the dark yet crowded streets, we split up into groups stationed on the sidewalks.  Signs waving above our heads that read - "Free spiritual readings" & "Free spiritual healing" - definitely drew the attention of many curious people looking to have a good time.  We weren't like the doomsday preachers on the benches, evangelizing hate and condemnation.  We weren't like the psychics at the booths, cheating people's pocket books on a counterfeit power.  We were different.  We carried the real power, the real Jesus.

4 AM worship

What I experienced that night was completely revolutionary.  Now you have to understand; I am no stranger to street evangelism.  I have gone to every supernatural, prophetic, healing, evangelism conference.  I have gone to 3 years of ministry school.  I practically grew up doing outreaches.  But this felt almost foreign to what I've always known of outreach.  I have heard the message of "ministry flowing from intimacy" preached from every pulpit in regards to outreach.  I myself have preached this message from my own pulpit.  But never have I experienced it so much a reality as I did in Salem.

Outreach has always felt like a massive pressure on me - pressure to see results, pressure to fit a certain description of an evangelist, pressure to hear God's voice, etc...  In my mind, I have always concurred with the truth that we need to go out without an agenda, but still that unspoken expectation looms around every corner of my heart.  I have dealt with this demon of performance more times than I can count.  And yet at times I wonder if it is even worth it.  I would rather not go on outreaches than to have to bear the pressure of fitting a role that is not me.

The Haunted Happenings festival Halloween night

But, like I said before, Salem was different, Salem was revolutionary, Salem was a reality I have not experienced before.  Our goal was not to have a successful outreach.  Even though this might offend some, our focus wasn't even to reach the lost.  Our priority the entire time we were in Salem was simply to worship Jesus, to give Him the praise and adoration that He deserves.  And we did just that for 60 hours straight.  The outreach was the after-party of that.  It was the post-game celebration.  And with that attitude, pressure and expectation were completely stripped of authority.  The rug was pulled out from underneath spirit of performance.  Of course there still was an intense spiritual battle going on all around us, but we were in a reality so far above that the darkness didn't even faze us.  I had more fun than I have ever had during an outreach.  I saw more fruit than I ever have during an outreach.  And it was so easy.

I have countless stories of people encountering Jesus and having their lives changed - both the spiritual seekers and the cynical mockers.  Real witches encountered the God of love.  Broken teenagers wept as they heard about the Father's heart.  Every person we prayed for physical healing got healed.  We saw people get saved right there on the streets.  You could literally see a light turning on in the eyes of hopeless people.  It was by no means a "hard" spiritual environment.  Honestly it was like ministering from an open heaven.  I was seriously blown away by it all.

In the very middle of everything going on that night, I had a brief moment with Jesus.  I was so full of thanksgiving, I couldn't help but stop what I was doing and marvel at how good and faithful He is.  He placed this dream in my heart for such a long time - to intentionally go to the darkest places without any agenda but to simply worship Him with all of my heart and to burn so brightly that people come to watch.  This was happening.  This was reality.  And now I just want to say to anyone reading this post - He really does want to use us.  He really does put dreams in our hearts for a reason.  And He really does love showing up in what the church would label as the hardest and darkest places.  That's His specialty.