may it be

“I want to ask what it would mean if our churches and families were known as the people who adopt babies–and toddlers, and children, and teenagers. What if we as Christians were known, once again, as the people who take in orphans and make of them beloved sons and daughters?”" – Russell Moore

Privileged Beyond Words

Yep, that’s what I am… so privileged to be the dean of so many amazing ladies. The ladies of second term stole their way deep into my heart. Their maturity and hunger for God challenged me again and again. I loved spending six weeks with them in school, and I loved watching them grow and learn in Los Angeles on tour. It was so beautiful to see their love for God and their love for people spring into action on the streets of Los Angeles.

I am going to miss the second term ladies so much… All of their beauty, their laughter, their funny jokes, their goofy songs, their prayers, their friendship and their safety. My greatest wish for them is that they will remain faithful to what God has shown them as they step into a new chapter of life.

Thank you, Lord, for allowing me to be part of this wonderful group for six weeks. It was one of the highest privileges to get to enter into their lives and love them.

Zombie

We walked down the famous street lined with stars in Hollywood. I looked down and saw a girl curled on top of a man, near a dog, and wrapped in dirty blankets and backpacks. Our eyes met.

She was with a band of traveling nomads. We stopped to talk to them. She sat up, and I sat down next to her. We shook hands with her and her three scraggly companions. She shyly grinned and wiped her hand before shaking mine, “I took a shower a few days ago, so I guess I’m still pretty clean.” Zombie told me a little of her story. She was 19 and traveled up and down the west coast for the past five years. I eyed her rough male companions, and then back to her. I read between the lines. Her life was anything but pretty.

They traveled from San Francisco to spend Christmas in Hollywood. They found out we were staying in a hotel. They looked at us longingly. Zombie said that the streets were their beds. They lived to have fun and get drunk.

Zombie still haunts me–her hungry, sad eyes. Her young, pretty face lined with worry and dirt. Her tragic life. I’m here, surrounded by love and joy. I’m safe, with friends and family. My life is beautiful. How can I share some of that beauty with Zombie? How can she get off the streets? How can she be rescued?

Snuggled in my own cozy living room, in Lancaster County, the streets of LA are a million miles away.

A Costly Prayer

She sat on the mall bench, holding her purse and watching people. Her wrinkled face was hid by big glasses and framed with curly grey hair. I started a casual conversation with her. She told me she was from Greece and wished me a happy holiday. As I was getting ready to leave, I asked her if I could pray for her. Her smiling face quickly changed–one second she smiled, the next second she cried. I was shocked to have a crying woman on my hands.

She sobbed, “Peace, peace, pray for peace. My family is fighting, and it hurts me so much.” She clutched her heart. I assured her I will pray for her family. She opened her purse and pulled out $20. In broken English and wiping away tears, she told me that I had to take this money because I’m praying for her. I refused, “I don’t want your money, ma’am. I want to pray for you.” She insisted, “No, you must. Because you pray.” I reluctantly took the money.

I left, holding the twenty dollars. From a distance, I watched her bow her head and put her hands on her face, for a long time. She remained still, no doubt quietly sobbing. I fingered the money and prayed, realizing how she must be desperate for Something. It takes a certain desperation to give a total stranger $20 for prayer. 

All over Los Angeles, I saw that same quiet desperation.

Raw Pain

We sang at a homeless shelter in downtown Los Angeles. Standing in the harsh light, we sang–and I allowed God to thaw my heart. The women–poor, without a home–each had a story, a past, a hope and a dream. My one wish for them was that God would give them a miracle of hope for Christmas… that God would restore their dreams that lay shattered at their feet. 

After singing, we visited with the ladies. I became almost angry at myself. I saw the raw pain–some of the most raw, oozing pain ever–coming from their hearts, and I felt helpless. How can I give them the love of Jesus? He seemed trapped inside of me, and my words seemed hollow talking to them. But, I assure myself that the Spirit works in our weakness–and He was there. I know He was.

The first lady I talked to was large with chopped hair. She had a beautiful white smile. In our conversation, she whispered that she works with terrorists. She talked about secrecy and being undercover and learning things. I nodded. How do I enter into her confusion and bring peace? 

The next lady I talked to also whispered to me, “I’m not God, I’m not an angel. I’m a healer.” She was a short, dear looking grandma with bright red lips and chunky gold earrings. She rambled on about being a bio-chemist and assuring me that she will “tell them to tell me about Jesus.” I left, upset with Satan and how he has ravaged this woman’s life.

I walked outside. Glancing up, I saw the bright towering skyscrapers of Los Angeles. I stood in a squalor of despairing women, each holding their earthly possessions close by them as they waited for supper. A hispanic woman sat, tightly wound in an old gray coat. She rambled in Spanish. I’m not sure everything she said, but I kept nodding and saying,”Si,” and “Bueno.” I must have been doing something right because I kept getting hugs and kisses from her. 

Coming inside, I talked to Pat. She looked at me with a queer smile and gushed a tirade of confusion, “When you have barn, there’s a hay. And then you move the hay. And the real question is, Is it merry or is it merry? I think within my thinking, but I really don’t want to enter into the thinking…” And the gush of confusion continued. By this time, I was burdened with all the raw pain. Jesus wouldn’t have tolerated it. All of a sudden, I felt like He was telling me to be bold and enter into Pat’s darkness. I told her she didn’t have to listen to the voices talking to her. Her eyes snapped to attention. I prayed with her, taking authority in Jesus’ name over her. After the prayer, she was normal. She wasn’t confused. I stood in awe of Jesus’ power. We talked for awhile. Pat gave me a hug and told me, “I have a lot to think about.”

The last lady was Rachel. A tall and beautiful lady with sad, cold blue eyes. She showed me her beaten face. “They’re from my boyfriends,” she grimaced. I grimaced with her.  I asked her what I could pray for her. Her eyes swelled in tears, “My children. I gave two children up for adoption–a boy and a girl. I miss them. Pray they will have a happy Christmas, wherever they are.” I left her, sad and dejected–thinking about her, how she’s scared in the big city, and wondering about her little boy and girl: Are they safe? Jesus, take care of them.

So much raw pain. So many broken lives. How can their lives be changed? Looking at each one, I know that I could spend the rest of my life showing Jesus to the hurting women of the world.

Elusive Dancing Shadows

Hunger. It defined the people I met in Hollywood. As I walked down the street of Hollywood, stepping on the famous golden stars, I sickened: Malnutrion of the soul abounded. The striving for something Real and True was just as elusive the shadows dancing from the bright lights. Never attainable — and, even more tragic, nothing is even there.

The eyes; that’s what I noticed. Empty, pale malaise–with a desperate hunger for Something, anything. How ironic, Hollywood is the definition of worldly fame and success. And, in the very mecca of such brilliancy, the eyes of the people darted back and forth in unrest.

The cashier asked me, “How are you doing?” I smiled and said very well. His mouth opened in disbelief, “Wow, I never hear people saying they are doing well these days!” I laughed and told him that life really is good and wished him a happy holiday. He shook his head and said with a deep hunger in his eyes, “We really need more people like you around here.”

Two different times that evening a person exclaimed how beautiful we were. One lady looked at us and said, “Wow, you have such natural beauty. It’s amazing.” Again, that same hunger. She continued, “You look like, like, uhm, pure.” I laughed and told her, “That’s what we are.” Another deep look of hunger flashed in her eyes–she just finished telling how her boyfriend hits her and her purple eye shadow didn’t hide the dark shadows all around her eyes. Isn’t it ironic? Hollywood, in the center of fashion and pursuit of beauty, I’m told–with a long dress and a white “thing” on my head–that I’m beautiful. And right there,in the very heart of seduction and impurity, a girl longing exclaims over our purity.

I looked at the girl. I looked at the cashier. I looked up at the glittering lights. I saw the movie actors and the limos. Is this as good as it gets? Is this really the end of what the world has to offer? Then, I looked inside of me. I saw in there Jesus, and enough love and security to last me an eternity. I’d be a fool to ever even give a second glance to Hollywood.

But, then I looked at the girl again. And the cashier again. And the many, many people walking the streets. I’d also be a fool if I didn’t tell them about Jesus. They’re hungry, and they desperately need my Jesus.

Los Angeles Bound

The Sharon Mennonite Bible Institute choir, Sharon Singers, is going to Los Angeles, California for a week long choir tour. So, I along with 44 other choir members and staff, will be flying towards the west early tomorrow morning. 

As you can see by the itinerary, it’s going to be a flying, fast-moving trip, stuffed full of lots of good things. Pray that we will radiate the love of Jesus in our expressions, conduct and voices everywhere we go in Los Angeles.

I feel like I need an extra “dose” of God as I go on this tour. It’s going to be an exciting time of intense ministry, but I already feel tired from giving so much during the term. Along with my dean responsibilities, I’m the head of food committee. Pray that I can juggle deaning, cooking, and choir with grace… and that I’ll be able to give to the choir and those we minister to all week long. 

God gave me a definition of travel last winter in Mexico: travel is God taking me by the hand and showing me all of His creativity and beauty in people and scenery. I look forward to God showing me around California! I’m so excited I get to go on another adventure!  

Pray for us! 

Love, Lauren

CHOIR ITINERARY

December, 2009

Friday, December 11 Leave Newark Liberty International Airport at 1:05 PM
Arrive in Los Angeles at 4:14 PM
Continental Airlines CO 17

Saturday, December 12 Street singing on Huntington Pier with Ray Comfort
Street singing on 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica 

Sunday, December 13 AM -Program at Calvary Presbyterian Church
PM -Program at India Christian Assembly 

Monday, December 14 Tour Los Angeles River area (a hangout for local gangs) 
Picnic in Griffith Park 
Hiking and prayer time for the city 

Tuesday, December 15 Tour Living Waters (Ray Comfort) 
Ministry in the LA slums area
Ministry with Union Rescue Mission 
Supper at Chinatown 

Wednesday, December 16 Leave Los Angeles at 8:30 PM
Arrive in Newark at 4:55 PM
Continental Airlines CO 1703

Thursday, December 17 Recording at Altar of Praise Studio, Leola, PA
Aaron Horst, 157 Center Square Road, Leola, PA 17540
717-656-2980

Thurs. Dec. 17 7:30 P.M. Lebanon Valley Mennonite Church, Lebanon, PA
J. Donald Hollinger, 3 High Street, Myerstown, PA 17067
717-933-4874

celebrating people

Today, my friend Benji and I celebrated people. We went into Lancaster City with only one plan: to give people professional photographs of themselves and their loved ones as a Christmas gift. We believe each person deserves to be celebrated. In that conviction, we set out with a “portable studio” and a prayer that God would guide our steps. He did, in the most beautiful ways.

We arranged, set up and doted on people. The children sparkled as they were adored and praised as the camera flashed. We wanted each person to feel cherished after we left–cherished just as Jesus cherishes them.

We didn’t come with an agenda to preach or to tell anybody anything. We came as learners, wanting to truly hear the people… to see them… and to express to them how valuable they were by photographing them.

Who do we see?

Chuck and Mateo sat at the bus stop. Chuck, an 80 year old Korean war vet, was going home from visiting his girlfriend. Mateo, a jolly man with limited English, giggled and gave me hugs every other sentence. He told me in Spanish (how thankful I am for the little I know!) that our testimony was one of happiness. I laughed and agreed. We are very happy. He gave me another hug. Chuck wasn’t so happy. He had a hard life. Benji sat with him and listened. That’s the key to enter into anyone’s heart: listening.

Across the street stood two men, beer in hand. We talked to them, asked if we could give them a photo session. They eagerly agreed. We found ourselves in a living room, taking a picture of a man with a Santa hat. Pablo, a sad man, sat in the chair. He started to talk. He told a sad story of how his girlfriend of twenty-five years died in a tragic fire several years ago. As Benji photographed his friend, he intently told me the story three times. Whenever my eyes would veer from his, he’d get close enough for me to smell his beer-breath and plead, “Are you listening to me?” “Yes, I’m listening,” I assured him and took in the pain of the story afresh. He only had one picture of his girl, Barbara… a fading, old Poloraid. It hurt to look at it.

We went to two families with many children. I loved watching the children dance with merriment as the camera flashed. They felt cherished. Each one had dreams tucked into their little hearts–each had a future, waiting for them. As the little hands were folded, and the innocent, shy smiles shone at us, I wish that I could always keep them that innocent and darling. But, of course, it’s not possible. But, today, we can celebrate them. Celebrate the children, celebrate the bitter old men, and the weary mothers.

The snow started to fall in the afternoon–huge, intricate snowflakes dancing in the skies. It seems to me that God was celebrating with us, too.

When You Say Nothing At All

I learned that a defining part of yearning is not being able to express the feelings in words. God puts the, ” I-don’t-know-the-words-to-say-it,” feelings inside of us.  It’s comforting to think that the Holy Spirit puts my feelings into words before God; that’s one of His jobs.

I can rest in the fact that God knows how to put my feelings into words. I’m also learning it’s okay to be at loss for words with people. Sometimes, it’s so frustrating to not be able to put what I’m thinking into words–but, the funny thing is that lately I’m not minding so much. Just like a content child is quiet when she’s snuggled up next to her dad,that’s how I feel right now. Is there even a need to speak? 

As I try to talk, sometimes things just don’t come out right (or at all). God’s teaching me the beauty of silence in my relationships with people–and with Him. As I was thinking about it all,  the words of an old love song came to mind, “You Say It Best When You Say Nothing At All.”

It’s amazing how you can speak right to my heart

What I hear when you don’t say a thing.

Without saying a word you can light up the dark

Try as I may I could never explain

What I hear when you don’t say a thing.

It’s amazing how God can speak right to my heart, without a word. And it’s amazing how other people can too. I’m beginning to think that words are really over-rated. Is this what God meant when He wrote, “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak…” (James 1:19) 

PS And how can I end this post without including one of my favorite worship songs, “Word of God Speak” by Mercy Me… the bold words are becoming my favorite words…

I’m finding myself at a loss for words
And the funny thing is it’s okay
The last thing I need is to be heard
But to hear what You would say

[CHORUS]
Word of God speak
Would You pour down like rain
Washing my eyes to see
Your majesty
To be still and know
That You’re in this place
Please let me stay and rest
In Your holiness 
Word of God speak

I’m finding myself in the midst of You
Beyond the music, beyond the noise
All that I need is to be with You
And in the quiet hear Your voice….

Christian Nurture Conference

This past weekend we had a Christian Nurture Conference at SMBI. I loved it. John Coblentz talked about abiding in Christ. My significance and identity only come from being in Christ; having Jesus inside of me is what defines me… nothing else. And, that can never be taken away. As I grasp that truth more and more, it brings such a freedom to life. I’m free to be me (in Christ) and embrace the journey of life.