Imagine with me!

I got a phone call yesterday that kind of broke my heart. A woman, also heartbroken, explained her friend's situation then asked, "What can we do?" Her friend was caring for an 18-month-old girl who was likely going to be apprehended by child and family services. Her friend had cared for this girl before, had seen the girl's mother come back into her life, and had taken the girl back when the mother left. Again. Already overwhelmed by her own situation and unable to care for this girl long-term, this woman called her friend, who called me. What can we do? 

I wanted to thank her for calling me and to reassure her that we could help. I wanted to tell her that we knew of a number of families who were licensed foster homes, ready and willing to welcome this precious child and surround her with the love of Jesus. I wanted to be able to connect her with people who would not only welcome this precious child, but who would commit to building a relationship with the girl's mother, if possible, and assist her in her efforts to parent her daughter. I wanted to tell her that we were surrounded by an army of like-minded people, people who knew firsthand the redemptive and restorative power of our great God and were eager to see redemption and restoration become reality in the lives of foster children and their families. I wanted to tell her of a network of support, of people ready to provide meals and respite and listening ears and prayer. I wanted to tell her that I could connect her with people who had counted the cost, answered this particular call, and were living in the glorious freedom of faithfully following our Lord into the broken and messy places.

Instead, I told her that unless she knew of a licensed foster home, there was little we could do. I explained how the system works, or what I know of it, and I listened to her. I offered a couple of ideas for ways to stay connected with this girl, perhaps through respite. I hung up, my spirit restless and discontent. I know foster families like this exist. I know there are people who view foster care as a calling, who commit to walking out this calling with courage and compassion. I've heard stories of birth mothers welcomed into families, and given the opportunity to learn from the foster mother. I've heard of mothers eased back into motherhood by being allowed to rock their babies to sleep in a foster home. I know a foster mom who took a young mom under her wing and taught her how to throw a birthday party for her child. I have read of another foster mom who has committed to staying connected with children that have been in her care, and makes herself available to provide respite (relief care) for the biological family who is working hard to keep it together. I know of a foster family being stretched way beyond what they thought they could do so that they can keep a sibling group together. I know foster families who have welcomed a child temporarily, then realized that this child was home, and become that child's forever family through adoption.

So, why did I not have more to offer on the phone yesterday? I'm sure there are many reasons. I'm sure we could do more to raise awareness, and to get connected with foster families, and to be more intentional about seeing this vision become reality. I'm also sure there is great need for more families to rise up in obedience and answer the call God has placed on their hearts to care for the most vulnerable in our society. What can we do?? How can we build a community of families determined to see God's kingdom come, His will done, His children cared for? Will you pray with me that the Lord will raise up people committed to bringing His justice - His restoration and redemption - to the world? Let's do this. Let's lay aside our expectations for how our lives will look, and let's ask the Lord to give us eyes to see what He has for us, and for our world through us.

Vision check

I need new glasses. It's been a few years, and I've been noticing that things are starting to get a little fuzzy. I think I might try a Groupon this time, seeing as my mom had a good experience with one recently. My plans for new glasses aren't really worth writing about, but it's got me thinking about vision in general. In Deep & Wide, Andy Stanley writes about the need for churches to have a "God-honoring, mouthwatering, unambiguously clear vision." (page 270) He asserts that without this clarity of vision, churches will not be able to make the types of changes necessary to do what they are meant to do. I believe this applies to our individual lives as well. If we don't have a clear vision for our lives, then we are likely to make decisions that simply move us further along the path we're already on. Is this a problem? For me, at least, it is. My heart has been gripped with a deep desire to live a life that's about more than just me. I don't want to default to the path of ease and comfort, the path that I'm told I deserve. I want a path that gives me opportunities to be part of making a difference in the world, even if it is messy and uncomfortable and doesn't look much like the path our culture tells me is most desirable.

This past weekend we had the great privilege of hearing from two former senior pastors as we celebrated the 75th anniversary of First Alliance Church. It was a wonderful service, and I was reminded of just how much I appreciate Terry Young's preaching! He spoke about story, and how many of us get caught up in a story that's all about us. He pointed us to Jesus, and reminded us that we are part of a much bigger story, a story of redemption. I want to be part of that bigger story. I want to be part of something that points people to freedom, that helps them find a path that leads them to the love of Jesus.

This is where our vision can start to blur, though. We are faced with opportunities every day. Suffering and need are everywhere - where do we start? How do we help? Children without families, flood victims without homes, slaves without freedom... The needs can be overwhelming and paralyzing: in a world with so much need, how can I make a difference? This, I believe, is where vision comes in. The fact that I can't do everything should not stop me from doing something, so I need to figure out what that something is. I need vision. I am reminded of something else Pastor Terry said once. He was talking about what we spend our lives doing, and how many people talk about their need to learn to say 'no.' He suggested that perhaps we really need to learn to say 'yes.' Maybe we need to figure out what it is we're meant to do, say "Yes!" to that, and the rest will fall in to place. This is clarity of vision. Too bad there's no Groupon for that!

So, what is my 'yes'? What is my vision? Am I going to default to the comfortable, relatively easy path of living for those things our culture tells me to live for? Or am I going to let God expand my vision and lead me to a path that lets me be part of something much more adventurous, messy, breathtaking and significant? If I am not intentional about pursuing a God-sized vision, I'm in danger of settling for a Colleen-sized vision. I'm convinced there's more to life than that. I believe our world needs us to pursue a vision that will take us far beyond ourselves, a vision that will "bring good news to the poor and proclaim freedom for the prisoners." (Luke 4:18)

Lord, give us a vision of what it means to be your hands, your feet, your heart, your body in a world that desperately needs to know You. Help us see!

Picket lines, lobby groups, and other democratic discomforts

I have never considered myself much of an activist. I would much rather keep the peace than make waves. I could blame my personality, the sometimes-bland political landscape of my country, and my Mennonite heritage (this isn't a judgment, just acknowledging that my ancestors were people who tended to relocate in pursuit of freedom rather than stay and fight for it), but the fact remains: I am uncomfortable with activism. Out of necessity, I joined a union when I was teaching, but I didn't know quite what to do with myself in strike seasons. So I didn't do much. My plea to the various sides in a conflict is usually this: Can't we all just get along?!

Pacifism, peace-keeping, consensus-seeking... These are all good things. But are they the right tools for every conflict?? The more I have learned about human trafficking and sex slavery, the more I have felt the need to rouse the sleeping activist/warrior within me. I picture myself face-to-face with a victim of human trafficking, offering excuses like, "I'm just not an activist" or "I didn't want to offend any of my friends by going all radical" or "I'm just one person - I honestly didn't think I could make a difference" and suddenly my excuses don't seem that solid.

One area in which I've been resisting the need to get involved is the political arena. Even the thought of emailing my MP or MLA seems daunting - I'm not really the type of person that emails the government, am I?! I'm thinking I need to be... There's currently a case before the Supreme Court of Canada seeking to challenge the prostitution laws in Canada. This is certainly a complex matter, but it seems to me that decriminalization will lead to increased exploitation. A lot of people with a lot more knowledge than me have written on this - check out http://www.defenddignity.ca/ for more information and resources on this issue, including how you can contact your Member of Parliament. Many people are lobbying our government to pass legislation similar to Sweden's law - read more about how Sweden approaches prostitution here: http://www.thesolutionsjournal.com/node/895.

http://www.defenddignity.ca/canada-can-do-better/ 

No matter how uncomfortable I feel, I can't just stick my head in the sand and hope for the best. It is absolutely vital that we stand up and advocate on behalf of those who are being exploited. Let's make the time to increase our awareness and send an email or two. On June 11th, join with a group of people at First Alliance Church who will be praying specifically about this issue. And let's ask God to align our hearts with His so we can start doing the important, uncomfortable, out-of-our-comfort-zones, life-changing work that needs doing.

Let the oppressed go free, and remove the chains that bind people. (Isaiah 58:6) 

Please don't send me to Africa...

I grew up going to churches that celebrated "missions." I have fond memories of meals made by missionaries to give us a taste of their daily lives. I remember slide shows - the kind where you had to slot each individual slide into the carousel then click through, and inevitably there'd be an empty slot or an upside-down slide...! I also remember dressing up in clothes from various countries. It was all very fascinating! (Now I feel like driving out to my parents' place and setting up the old slide projector. I'm pretty sure the kids would think it was the coolest thing ever!)

As a young girl, I often wondered if God would "call" me into missions. I was somewhat relieved to never get the call, whatever I thought that would look like. I remember a song called "Please Don't Send Me to Africa" - if you've never heard it, or maybe you want a little blast from the past, I found it on YouTube. Here's the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ITmHLf1DB_0 (the song starts around 1:50). It's a fun poke at the pew-warmer, but I suspect a lot of us felt like this. Missionaries seemed like a different breed: they make huge sacrifices, often saying goodbye to friends and family for years at a time. They struggle to learn new languages and cultures, and eat unfamiliar foods. I viewed them with awe and admiration, thinking they must be pretty amazing to do what they do. (And, for the record, I still think they're pretty awesome, living their lives in whole-hearted surrender like that. It's a beautiful thing!)

Then came the day I first heard the "We're all supposed to be missionaries!" talk. The main idea, as I recall, was that those of us who stayed home weren't somehow free of the responsibility to tell people about Jesus. We should all be actively sharing the Good News with our friends and acquaintances. I remember thinking it was a good point, but didn't it somehow diminish the radical and sacrificial nature of what missionaries were doing? Inviting a friend from school to attend a youth event with me doesn't exactly compare to selling your house, leaving everything familiar behind, and moving around the world. Won't the "real" missionaries resent it if we elevate ourselves to their level without making any of the sacrifices they're making??

Well, I'm starting to wonder if we haven't missed the point altogether with the way we often view missionaries (and others in full-time ministry) and set them apart as so very different from the rest of us. In fact, I'm wondering if my safe and comfortable life hasn't missed the point. When Jesus gave the Great Commission in Matthew 28, He didn't preface it with "If you feel called..." - He simply reminded His followers of His power and authority, then said "Go." (There's the call. It's for all of us.) His disciples, overwhelmed by His love and empowered by the Holy Spirit, lived radical, transformed lives. How is it that so many of us who call ourselves followers of Christ look more comfortable than radical? Maybe our mistake hasn't been elevating missionaries, but allowing ourselves to be content with complacency, comfort, and safety. What if our lives, as Christians, were marked by sacrifice and purpose? What if we actually approached our days with a sense of urgency and passion? I bet we'd see God's power unleashed in unimaginable ways. I bet we'd see less poverty, more children adopted into families, and chains of oppression breaking around the world!

For many years, I (subconsciously?) bought in to the idea that I wasn't called to live a life of radical surrender to God. I thought that was just for a select few. I'm starting to think that's the only way to really live. As J.D. Greear says in his book, Gospel, "gospel-centered people offer themselves to God, joyfully, and then do whatever He directs them to do, knowing that only what He empowers them to do will do any real good. That's what we are responsible for - offering all we have to God and asking for His direction." Let's do that! Let's offer all we have to God and then do whatever He leads us to do. And then let's get together to eat some good food and watch a few slide shows and celebrate, in stunned awe, what our great God is doing in our world!

Roy

I met a man named Roy one Saturday. Had it been any other Saturday, our meeting would not have impacted me as much as it has. But it happened that Saturday. The day I seriously started praying that God would show me how to live with my eyes wide open.

I should back up a bit. We (Brian and I) have felt, well, kind of restless for the last while. Like there's more to life than what we've been living. We've felt a tension, an uneasiness, a sense that something needed to change. We've been increasingly, uncomfortably aware of just how easy our life is compared to the difficulties so many face. It's been kind of like the freezing wearing off after dental surgery: a throbbing ache, a growing awareness of pain that hasn't stopped us from going about our daily life - it's just thrown us off a little.

Then I started reading Jen Hatmaker's stuff (7 and Interrupted), and finished Mercy Triumphs, Beth Moore's study on the book of James. The discomfort grew. I was becoming more and more convicted that I'd been somehow missing the point of how I was supposed to be living. That too much of my time was spent perpetuating my family's comfortable lifestyle, and not enough time was spent in using our abundance to help those who really needed it.

So, after I finished reading Interrupted, I felt that I needed to get serious about praying for clarity and direction from God. If He was truly leading me to make significant changes, then I wanted to know what the next step would be. I decided I'd stay off facebook for a couple days (sort of a fast) and every time I felt the urge to check it, I'd pray instead. I started praying that my eyes would be open to opportunities right in front of me. I figured I probably walk past hurting, vulnerable people every day, so I just prayed that I would be able to see the needs around me and have the courage to step in and meet those needs. After all, James 4:17 informs us that "if you know the right thing to do and don't do it, that, for you, is evil."

Enter Roy. I was at Chinook, having coffee with a friend, when another friend (one I haven't seen in years) approached our table with her mom and an older gentleman. She introduced us to Roy and explained that he had lost his wallet and his keys, and that he was rather distressed about it. She was glad we were there because he needed a place to sit while she went to try and find someone who could help. I was astounded that God had worked this quickly. (My actual thoughts went something like, "Seriously, God?! I'm half a day into my fast and you've already placed a vulnerable person in need in my path?! Wow.") What happened next revealed to me just how inexperienced and ill-prepared I am for all this.

As Kate walked away to find someone, the inner debate started. I felt a strong desire to do something to help. After all, it couldn't be mere coincidence that Roy was sitting at our table! But isn't that the kind of thing security is supposed to look after? It's their job, I reasoned. Wait a minute, isn't that the kind of thinking that's gotten us to this place of keeping ourselves distanced and insulated from suffering in our world?! Smarten up, Colleen. So we conversed (awkwardly) with Roy. Kate returned, unsuccessful, and attempted to get a phone number from Roy. She called it - no answer. When security staff came, they got an address from him. Immediately, I thought that maybe I should give him a ride home. But what if he's just pretending to be helpless? What if I'd be putting myself in danger? And what if the address he gave us is incorrect? I'd be stuck with him for who knows how long. We soon discovered that he still had his bus tickets, so he would be able to get home. I felt instant relief. The security personnel had left a message at the phone number Roy had given, and they assured him they'd check on him again in an hour. We made sure that he had something to eat and drink, and went on our way.

Driving home, I continued to wonder what else I could have done. Did I do enough? Should I have offered him a ride home? What would have been some way to help?? Then it hit me - I could have waited with him. If someone I knew and cared about was alone and vulnerable, I would have waited. But waiting would have made us late for church, I argued. This next thought slammed into my brain with the force and speed of a wrecking ball: Is it more important to sit in church, or be the church? Ouch.

I have two main thoughts after meeting Roy. First, I'm going to have to change the way I see and think about the world. Other people's pain and discomfort are not necessarily someone else's responsibility. There may be something I can do to help. At the very least, I can dignify the suffering of others by being aware of their existence. Second, I'm not nearly as smart as I thought I was. I know very little about how to actually live moment by moment with eyes and heart wide open. I'm going to have to approach this with a little humility and take advantage of opportunities to practice being the kind of Christ-follower I believe I'm called to be. It's time to be the church.

Someday...

Brian and I were in BC, on the lower mainland, for an adoption conference this past weekend. We found ourselves starting sentences with "Someday..." We talked about our 10th anniversary, only 2 years away. We talked about holidays we'd like to go on with (and without!) the kids. In short, we were dreaming. Thinking of all the great places in the world we'd like to see and experience.

Then we heard some amazing stories. One woman in particular, Kim England, said something that made me stop and think. She was telling us how God led their family to adoption. And how, with 4 biological children, they adopted a sibling group of 4 boys! She shared some of the craziness, then she told us what her husband says when they are faced with the reality of how much their life has changed. He says, "Living out a miracle is way better than living out a dream." I started thinking, and the more I thought about it, the more I liked it.

I thought about the typical dreams many of us have. Dreams for ourselves and our families. Dreams about vacations and homes and wardrobes. Dreams about fame and fortune and accomplishments. Then I thought about the lives that inspire me. People who have sacrificed comfort and "freedom 55" and many other things we've been taught to expect. People who have stepped in to the brokenness of our world and are making a difference for the hurting and the vulnerable. People like Kim and her husband who are witnessing miracles - watching the transformation as children learn to trust, experiencing the love of their very own family.

I'm not against dreams - they can focus, motivate and challenge us. I'm just wondering if our dreams are too small, if they limit us sometimes. Are we so focused on where we hope to be in the future that we're missing out on stuff right now? Are there miracles right under our noses? My prayer is that my eyes will be opened to what God has for me today, that I'll be able to see and be a part of the miracles He's performing, and that my dreams will start to reflect His heart.

Matrix Moments

I've been thinking about this blog post for weeks (where has the month of August gone, exactly?!), and I decided to re-read my previous posts to make sure I'm not getting too repetitive! I discovered a definite theme - it seems that we're building up to something big. And I think we're starting to get a bit of clarity as to what that might be!

Clarity is a tricky thing. For years, we've had a burden on our hearts for older children in the foster care system who are waiting for a family of their own. Over the last few months, we've both felt certain that this is something we are still supposed to do. At the same time, we've been meeting with a number of like-minded people. People who feel certain that something needs to be done for these kids so that they can experience the love and security of belonging to a family... We are so incredibly excited to be a part of this!

So where does The Matrix come in? Well, we've noticed that any time we start thinking about doing something big and risky and scary and exciting, there is a force at work enticing us to maintain the status quo. It's as if we've lived in a comfortable, safe reality for most of our lives, and we are starting to want to live with our eyes open to a reality that includes a lot of hurt, heartache, and discomfort. Our safe, comfortable reality is not easily overthrown, however. We are often plagued by self-doubt - whenever I lose my patience with one of the kids I think, "Who am I kidding?! Can I really handle another one?!" We are fighting the temptation to embrace a certain lifestyle - "What about vacations to Disneyland? Pedicures? How much are we going to have to sacrifice?!" Really, we're caught between 2 conflicting worldviews - one that teaches that the best thing we can do for our kids is strive for a certain standard of living. The other teaches that true joy and fulfillment can come only when we stop living solely for ourselves and our own comfort, and start to live with eyes and hearts wide open to a world that desperately needs love and grace and second chances...

The movie analogy has its limitations. In The Matrix, once a character chose to throw off the matrix and live in "reality" that was all they saw. They could make trips back into the world as they once knew it, but they remained committed to living in the true reality. Life for us is more complicated: we have to train our eyes to view the world differently. We have to continue to live in one reality while maintaining our awareness of another reality. Not always easy to do.

Jesus was aware of this tension. In John 17, Jesus prays for his disciples. In fact, he prays for all of us who consider ourselves his followers (verse 20). He acknowledges that his followers "do not belong to this world any more than I do" (verse 16). He prays for unity and love and protection for us as we live a life that shows God's love to the world.

If that's our calling, then bring it on! We'll continue to fight through the self-doubt and the seduction of our culture. We'll embrace opportunities to step into uncomfortable situations if it means that a hurting heart will experience God's love. And we'll strive for continued clarity as we figure out exactly how God is going to use us to make a difference in the lives of kids in our world.