The Risky Leap

With the image of blood soaking into the white shirt still fresh in my mind, I began to run. As sheer exhilaration made my heart pound within me, the words continued to ring in my head: “Whatever you do, don’t fall. Just keep running!” The mountain’s edge was fast approaching—there was no turning back. With a sudden jerk, I flew into the air as my paraglide began to soar above me ...

Not one to turn down an adventure, I excitedly signed up for my first paragliding excursion while living in Cape Town, South Africa. As we made the rigorous hike up Lion’s Head Mountain, the sun beating down on us, I chatted with my flight instructor to pass the time. Along the way, he mentioned that there were three different areas on the mountain from which we could make the jump—and it all depended on which way the winds were blowing.

At our first potential stop, we watched as two other gliders prepared their shoots. “The wind is blowing the wrong direction,” my instructor warned them.

“Nah. We’ll be fine,” one of the paragliders replied nonchalantly.

“They shouldn’t do it. It’s foolish,” my instructor muttered to me.

The paraglider began running toward the mountain’s edge, waiting for his shoot to catch the wind. As we held our breaths in anticipation, the wind caught the paraglide, shooting the glider into the air—before turning suddenly and crashing him back into the mountainside. With a gasp, we ran toward the precipice to see if we could spot him, but no luck. Anxious calls to his radio went unanswered.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, our calls were returned: He was alive.

Because the paraglider had a companion nearby and had no significant injuries, my instructor began to walk briskly ahead. “Let’s go!” he called out, still showing anger at the man’s decision to jump against his expert advice.

Still shook up from what I had witnessed, we reached the second landing. “The wind is not good,” he flatly stated. The third landing, sadly, offered no improvement. With my disappointment rising, we began our descent down the mountain, defeated by the wind that was supposed to send us soaring.

As we reached the first landing again, we greeted the man who just moments prior had crashed into the trees. His paraglide was destroyed, along with his pride. He sat there staring off into the distance in disappointment and as blood dripped from a still untended gash along his ear onto his shoulder below.

“Let’s go!” my instructor exclaimed once again. But this time, he meant to paraglide! The winds had changed, and it was safe to jump.

Or so he said.

As I looked back and forth from the bloody shirt to the paraglide set up for me, I paused. Would I, too, end up crashing into the mountainside at full force? I wondered. But for some reason, I felt no fear.

You see, time and again my instructor had proven himself true. He would not allow me to jump if the winds were too fierce. He changed course when the wind was blowing the wrong direction. He turned down multiple opportunities to jump because he knew it just wasn’t worth risking injury or death. His cautious, wise, and well-experienced approach gave me a great sense of confidence. I felt no fear because my instructor had proven himself to me.

So when we set off running toward the mountain edge, my heart was beating from sheer joyful exhilaration—not fear!

How clearly this story can apply to our own spiritual journey! Our faithful Instructor knows our weaknesses, and He knows our capabilities. He will never lead us on a path through which His strength cannot sustain us. As we journey with Him, and see Him prove Himself true time and again, our confidence in Him begins to soar.

Ellen White once wrote, “Our heavenly Father measures and weighs every trial before He permits it to come upon the believer. He considers the circumstances and the strength of the one who is to stand under the proving and test of God, and He never permits the temptations to be greater than the capacity of resistance… Christ never failed a believer in his hour of combat. The believer must claim the promise and meet the foe in the name of the Lord, and he will not know anything like failure” (Ellen G. White, Manuscript 6, 1889).

You might still be thinking that this paragliding adventure wasn’t the wisest thing for me to do … and you might be right. But one thing I know: God will never fail you. Seek moment by moment to trust implicitly in your Instructor and I guarantee you will not regret the journey.

(Edited by Anthony Lester for AmazingFacts.org )

Death’s Embrace

 

Though long delayed, the inevitable had finally come. With a whispered “I love you,” I gingerly bent over his frail form for one last embrace.

After a three-year battle with cancer, little remained of this once vigorous patriarch. Though weak with pain, my uncle’s unexpectedly firm grasp held me close and long, conveying the message we both knew too well… This would be the last time we would say “goodbye.”

As I walked away that warm summer day, fighting the tears welling up inside, my mind drifted back to another time… back to other believers, who once felt death’s cold embrace. 

“Baby, don’t die!” the father cried out in anguish. “Please keep breathing! Don’t die on me. Please don’t die. Jesus is coming soon!” he tearfully pled, but to no avail as his daughter gasped for her last breath of air. The father’s screams of anguish pierced the night. “Oh, God! No!”

False teachings had silently crept their way into the early church. The fledgling Thessalonian flock was persuaded that unless their loved ones were alive at the coming of Christ, they would never see them again (see Acts of the Apostles p. 258). With no hope of a resurrection, their hearts were crushed with overwhelming despair, as one by one their loved ones died and were delivered into the darkness of an eternal grave…

Yet their cries of agony had not passed unheard by the heart of their Father. With trembling hands they grasped a weatherworn letter penned by the hand of a humble servant of God. Tears of relief streamed down their faces as the words were heard: “For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of an archangel, and with the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And thus we shall always be with the Lord” (1 Thessalonians 4:16-17).

There was hope! The sweet sleep of their loved ones would not be eternal. Death’s grasp cannot restrain its victims when the shout of the Life-giver sounds! Peace flooded their aching souls.

Though centuries have passed since this message of hope was first received, how often we live our lives with the same overwhelming fear as though this earth is our final resting place. Carelessly the words are read which once inspired such hope in the Thessalonian believers. While grasping for the futility of this mortal life, eternal realities slip between our fingers.

God is calling us to look beyond the grave - for there stands Jesus. In their resurrected glory, His children will once again unite. No trace of death or pain will be seen on the faces reflecting their Father's love. Eternity basking in the presence of Him whose love has set us free! No fear, no pain, no cancer, no death. This is our reality! This is our unfailing confidence. Oh the beautiful promise soon to be fulfilled! The loud shout soon echoing through the heavens - death’s darkness forever rent apart as light streams down from our Redeemer's heart.

I eagerly await the day when I can once again feel the warmth of my uncle’s embrace.  As the shout of God echoes through the heavens, this now lifeless body will be resurrected to the vigor of eternal youth and joy – never parting again. Oh blessed hope!

Today may we embrace, claim, and truly "comfort one another with these words" (1 Thessalonians 4:18).

For more information, visit: www.truthaboutdeath.com

Why, God?

"Why, God?" we plead in desperation. When tragedy strikes, when heartbreak pierces us, when discouragements seem to crush us, this question flows easily off our tongue. "Why is God allowing this pain? If He loves me, then why is my heart breaking?" we ask rhetorically, certain that no answer will come...

This past summer my nephew, Declan, underwent open heart surgery: he was only ten months old. To this day, tears come to the eyes of his parents when they recall this painful process: seeing the many IVs in their baby boy, hugging him goodbye as the anesthesiologist carried him into the surgery room, and knowing that soon he would have a deep scar drawn across the length of his chest. Words failed to convey the life-saving importance of this surgery and the healing it would soon bring; it was impossible for a baby to comprehend. But even through the pain, his eyes reflected love and complete trust in the hands of his adoring parents.

This painful plight our Father knows too well. How often we cry out to Him in pain and confusion. We don't understand the trial. We can't comprehend what good it will bring. Yet there our Father stands, keeping watch by our bed. His comforting hand laid across our sweating brow. How He wishes we could fully understand His heart! "When all things seem dark and unexplainable, remember the words of Christ, 'What I do thou knowest not now; but thou shalt know hereafter.' John 13:7." (Ministry of Healing, p. 487)

On Thanksgiving Day, my all too familiar chest pain returned. Once again, I was struggling for every breath; spending my days at home watching the flames lick the wood in the fireplace and trying to rest. In all honesty, there have been moments of frustration when I try to speak but end up gasping for air instead. But these moments are quickly beaten back by reflecting on promises fulfilled, the faithfulness of my Father, the self-sacrificing care of my family, and the prayers of my friends. The question, "Why, God?" came this morning as I was reading through the book, Ministry of Healing. I couldn't help but ask, "Why, God? ... Why has your mercy and your comfort always been so close to me - even though I absolutely don't deserve it? Why was I blessed with such a loving family? Why do You care so much for me to prepare my character for the times ahead?" I don't know what lies before me (do any of us?), but each day, God gives me the grace and strength that I need for that day. He hasn't given me strength for tomorrow's battle because I don't need it yet! Tomorrow, He will abundantly supply that need.

Ministry of Healing reminds us: "Each one has a personal battle to fight. Not even God can make our characters noble or our lives useful, unless we become co-workers with Him. Those who decline the struggle lose the strength and joy of victory!" (p. 487)

Draw strength from the Father today. Focus on the victory and joy before us. And remember, instead of grasping for control of an unknown tomorrow, seek to understand the Father's heart today.

One Regret

I have many dreams... Dreams of being a godly wife and mother, a co-laborer in the Gospel field. Dreams of living in a rugged land protecting and nurturing children from the horrors of stolen innocence. Dreams that have yet to be fulfilled. 

Yet last Friday night, as I slept fitfully on my hospital bed desperately gasping for a painless breath, none of my dreams came to mind. Instead, one thought surfaced repeatedly. One regret came without relief...

 I wish I had loved Jesus more. 

How shallow has been my love when compared to the depths of His grace! How painfully small have been my efforts to ease His daily pain. How great is the multitude within my reach - too often unnoticed by my sadly callused eyes. 

But today as I breathe deeply, taking in the beauty of a fresh new week, my only regret has become my greatest dream... 

With every breath, with every thought, I'm seeking and growing to love my Jesus more. 

That Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the width and length and depth and height— to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge; that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Ephesians 3:17-19

Cheap Grace 101: Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Cheap grace is the mortal enemy of our church. Our struggle today is for costly grace. Cheap grace means justification of sin but not of the sinner. Cheap grace is that which we bestow on ourselves.
Cheap grace is preaching forgiveness without repentance; it is baptism without the discipline of community; it is the Lord's Supper without confession of sin; it is absolution without personal confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without the living, incarnate Jesus Christ.

Leave it to God. Seriously.

We may expect that false reports will circulate about us; but if we follow a straight course, if we remain indifferent to these things, others will also be indifferent. Let us leave to God the care of our reputation...Slander can be lived down by our manner of living; it is not lived down by words of indignation. Let our great anxiety be to act in the fear of God and show by our conduct that these reports are false.

No one can injure our character as much as we ourselves. It is the weak trees and totering houses that need to be constantly propped. When we show ourselves so anxious to protect our repuration against attacks from the outside, we give the impression that it is not blameless before God and that it needs therefore to be continually bolstered up.

MS 24, 1887

Examples of dealing with false reports in this manner: Jesus (Isaiah 53), God the Father, Stephen, Paul, Elijah, etc.

True Prayer

The prayer that does not succeed
in modulating our wishes;
in changing the passionate desire
into still submission;
the anxious tumultuous expectation
into quiet surrender,
is not true prayer.

The life is most holy
in which there is least of petition and desire
and most of waiting on God,
that in which petition
often passes into thanksgiving.

Pray until prayer makes you forget your own wishes
and leaves or merges it into God's will.

The Divine wisdom has given us prayer,
not as a means to obtain the good things of the earth,
bust as a means whereby
we learn to do without them.

Not as a means to escape evil
but as a means whereby
we become strong to meet it.

- Found in EGW's Bible after her death.

Poem: A Christian’s Commitment

I’m part of the fellowship of the unashamed

I have stepped over the line.

The decision has been made.

I am a disciple of Christ.

I won’t look back, letup, slow down, back away, or be still

My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, my future is secure.

I’m finished and done with the low living, sight walking, small planning, smooth knees, colorless dream, tamed vision, mundane talking, cheap living, and dwarfed goals.

I no longer need preeminence, prosperity, position, promotions, plaudits, or popularity.

I now live by faith, lean on His presence, walk by patience, lift by prayer, and labour by power.

My face is set, my gate is fast, my goal is heaven, my road is narrow, my way rough, my companions few, my Guide reliable, my mission clear, I cannot be bought, deluded, or delayed.

I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of the adversary, negotiate at the table of the enemy, meander in the maize of mediocrity.

I won’t give up, shut up, let up, until I have stayed up, stored up, prayed up, paid up, preached up for the cause of Christ.

I am a disciple of Jesus.

I must go till He comes, give till I drop, preach till all know, and work till He stops me

And when He comes for His own, He will have no problem recognizing me—my banner will be clear.

Author Unknown

Mary vs Martha: Every Missionary's Battle

As activity increases and men become successful in doing any work for God, there is danger of trusting to human plans and methods. There is a tendency to pray less, and to have less faith. Like the disciples, we are in danger of losing sight of our dependence on God, and seeking to make a savior of our activity. We need to look constantly to Jesus, realizing that it is His power which does the work. While we are to labor earnestly for the salvation of the lost, we must also take time for meditation, for prayer, and for the study of the word of God. Only the work accomplished with much prayer, and sanctified by the merit of Christ, will in the end prove to have been efficient for good. - Desire of Ages,362

But now

Prior to attending Generation of Youth for Christ (GYC) in December 2004, there were many things I had never done:

I had never come forward in response to an appeal. I had never known that women have a special role in ministry. I had never openly sobbed for joy when a best friend accepted the call for re-baptism. I had never realized there were 7,000 other youth (and counting!) which had not bowed their knees to the gods of this world. I had never realized how many ministry opportunities are available for young people. I had never been actively involved at my church. I had never considered what calling God had placed on my life.

But now -

I know what my purpose is in life. I know so many youth and young adults with the same passion for Christ that I have. I know the joy that comes from being active in evangelism and encouraging other people to get involved as well. I know the time is short. I know additional methods for sharing my faith with others. I know the importance of ministry to secular campuses. I know that God has placed a call on my life for full-time ministry. I know that there is nothing worth turning back for. Most importantly, I know whom I have believed in…

If you haven’t gone before (or even if you have), pray about attending GYC 2011in Houston, TX. You will be humbled, challenged, blessed, and inspired – I just know it.

selfLESS service

Tingles of anxiety mixed with annoyance began to wash over me. I could sense someone staring at me - someone very, very close. I refused to open my eyes in hopes that "it" would disappear. Who else could be up at this unearthly hour on the streets of Tijuana, Mexico? I probably didn't want to know.

"Are you sleeping?" inquired an unfamiliar voice with a thick Mexican accent. "Praying," I curtly responded without so much as looking up. "Why are you here?" he asked in a pitiful attempt to engage my interest in this conversation. My reverent prayer time with God quickly turned into a "woe is me" moment. "Father, you know I NEED this time with you. I'm exhausted! I don't want to talk to him. Please, make me nice."

As much as I was enjoying this mission trip, I was running low on steam. Every morning I rose before the sun in a vain attempt to have a quiet worship before the rest of the mob awoke. Then it was off to the construction site where we hammered away until evening. After a quick shower, I jumped into the van every night, hauling my projector and laptop, and headed out to preach the evangelistic series at a local church. Fun? Yes. Spiritually uplifting? Yes. Exhausting? Most definitely. I coveted my morning worship time with God and wasn't thrilled about this random guy taking that away from me...

For the next few minutes, I politely chatted with Manuel, the once stranger, about our purpose for being in Tijuana, Mexico. As I shared about my faith in God and His leading in my life, Manuel began to open up about his own experience. He shared about the mistreatment he suffered at the hands of other Christians, the questions he still has about the character of God, and the dreams he holds of someday living in a safe area with a family who loves him. The sound of our deep conversation and occasional laughs brought several other missionaries out of their warm sleeping bags and into our discussion. Meanwhile, my mind began to wander...

Picture this: Christ, physically drained from yet another day of ministry, hearing the fateful news - John the Baptist was beheaded, his severed head placed upon a platter. Aside from the mother of Christ, no one else understood Jesus' mission as clearly as John did. He was the one who had prepared the way for the Messiah. He was the one who had fearlessly preached God's Word and baptized His beloved Son. And now, he was dead.

Christ departs to a desert place in a vain attempt to have solitude, but it's of no use. The multitude follows Christ. The cries of their ailing children and demon-possessed friends pierce the air. The hideous-looking lepers pitifully moan, "Unclean. Unclean." as they follow the crowd from a distance. If there ever was a time when Christ deserved to be alone, deserved to be refreshed by hallowed time with His Father, this was that time. But how did Christ respond? He was "moved with compassion" and "healed their sick" (Matthew 14:13-14). He lost all remembrance of His own pain, His own exhaustion, and focused solely upon the needs of others. Not only did He minister to their spiritual and emotional needs, He also provided the food they required for their physical needs. Only after they were filled did He depart and enjoy peaceful solitude with His Father.

Oh how much I have to learn! So often our physical exhaustion and/or emotional trauma are used as an excuse to keep us from ministry. Yet these are the very things that should drive us to it! The life of Christ epitomizes this concept. His nourishment, both physical and emotional, was received through devoted service to others, not from the absence of it (See John 4). I nearly missed a Divine appointment because I was focused on my own perceived needs instead of making the service of Christ paramount in my life…

By the grace of God, may we learn to have the same experience that Christ had while on earth, and continues to have as He ministers on our behalf in the Heavenly sanctuary: “My meat[substance] is to do the will of Him that sent me, and to finish His work” (John 4:34).

com·mu·nion

Communion Sabbath? Today?!  That’s the last thing I wanted to hear while walking to church in flip-flops, splattering muck across my ankle-length skirt, and desperately trying to avoid stepping in the dung- strewn, muddy road. The recent tropical storm had definitely wreaked havoc in the little Honduran town of El Suyatal.

As I looked down at my filthy feet, I couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between today and my past Communion services. My feet, and the feet of most other church members, usually received a special deep scrub on Communion days - just to make sure there weren’t any traces of dirt. All remnants of toe-nail polish were meticulously removed. The taste and texture of the Communion bread was evaluated in the never ending debate of which church makes the best kind. How many times have I wished that the Barbie-sized grape juice cups could be enlarged?  Oh yes, Communion was a special event.

But today, far from home, I tried not to fidget in the lean-to type church as I self-consciously stared at my mud-caked feet planted firmly upon the church’s dirt floor. Between the car horns blaring, dogs barking, roosters crowing, and the ever-present loudspeaker advertising “fresh” produce, I listened to the speaker rattle off in Spanish about which room to enter into for the foot washing. Lynette, a precious Honduran friend of mine, leaned over to me with a smile and asked if she could wash my feet. My confident, affirmative response did not match the hesitant look on my face.

As I scrunched my oversized foot into the water basin, I couldn’t help but notice how quickly the water changed to a muddy brown color. Expecting the usual two second splash, I was surprised when Lynette began to drench my feet with water and gently massage the mud away. For several minutes, she scrubbed and scrubbed between my toes and around my nails just to make sure that every spot of filth had been cleansed. “She shouldn’t have to do THIS!” I thought. “That’s not fair. I can take care of it!” After all, who would want to touch such muck with their bare hands? But I slowly started to feel something change. I began to fight back the tears as I realized what heartfelt love and sacrifice she was showing. If it wasn’t for the paper towels they had given me to dry Lynette’s feet with, I would have gladly dried her feet with my hair. At that moment, it all began to make sense. Through the muddy-water surrounding my feet, I saw a clearer picture of Jesus. I saw myself as Peter: self-conscious, self-sufficient, and works-oriented. Yet, Lynette’s example gave me another picture as well. I couldn’t help but feel the warmth of God’s presence as He told me He does this and more for me! He didn’t have to, He doesn’t deserve to – but He loves me! As I felt the tears begin to fall on my cheeks, I prayed to God, “Please, cleanse all of me! Please, give me that heart of love as well. Lord, I surrender all.” I didn’t want this moment to end – I felt so close to Christ. I had never realized before how beautiful a Communion service can be – but I know now.

Since my return from Honduras, in all honesty, I have avoided Communion service. It just doesn’t compare to the genuine experience I had in that adobe walled room. But the next time I do, I plan on looking for a stranger whose feet I can wash. Not the nicely scrubbed, perfectly manicured type; but the filthy ones that look as though they have traveled many hard roads. You know, like the feet that my Saviour washed.

Hopeless

They say the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry. Apparently, as I recently discovered, this saying holds true for women too.

Conviction struck me with blunt force several weeks ago; unfortunately (or fortunately?), the brunt of it landed in my closet. Yes, indeed, it was time for my clothing to receive a major overhaul. Although I knew my clothes didn't really portray the changes Christ was making in my heart, I hadn't spent much effort on changing this fact. That is, until now.

"Now what am I going to wear?!" I complained to my sister after trying on the third outfit that morning. "Definitely not THAT," she quickly replied. "It's waaaay to short." Although I had already spent the week discarding my less-than-modest outfits, a few more were discovered hanging on to my closet rack for dear life that Sabbath morn'. Finally, after much exertion, I settled on a perfectly boring dress that was entirely modest. Even though I felt like a spinster, I wore it with a smile knowing that it put my convictions at ease. That is, until I tried to kneel for the congregational prayer...

In one swift move, the back of my dress snagged onto the edge of my chair as I slipped off my chair to pray. Before I could gracefully redeem myself, my dress had lifted itself far above my comfort zone - to say the least! My mortification rose during prayer when I stole a glance (yes, I rose to THAT level of heathenism) to see if anyone was behind me and had witnessed such a humiliating scene. My fingers are still crossed in hopes that the random guy behind me had fallen asleep before prayer...

So what's the moral to this story? I don't know! My best intentions fell completely flat. The only thing left to do is ask yet again: "Now what AM I going to wear??!"

Cockroaches, Toads, & Rats - Oh my!

"I give up," I mumbled as I crawled into my warm sleeping bag. I had spent the last ten minutes trying to kill a cockroach that insisted upon crawling all over my bunk bed. Try as I might, my sturdy hiking boots just wouldn't do him in. He scampered away into the dark, yet somehow I saw him in every dream...

"Ugh! He's back!!" I shrieked with surprise. For the past several nights, I had been crawling into bed without shinning my flashlight over my sleeping bag. I had decided it was better not to know which creepy crawler occupied it this time. But alas, Mr. Cockroach had planted himself squarely on top of my toiletries and wasn't backing down. Seeing my disgust, Emily, my roommate, came over to assist me. I grabbed the closest shoe, my adorable brown pumps, and handed it to her. In an almost graceful maneuver, she managed to clobber the cockroach in one fatal blow. It was quickly buried in our garbage can, though I briefly considered keeping it as a trophy.

What, you may ask, is the moral to this dramatic story? Well, next time you visit a third world country, forget the hiking boots and go for the heels!

It's the thought that counts

"He's finally warming up to me," I thought as I reached out to accept his gift. Oscar, a mischievous eight year old boy, had been quite uninterested in befriending a gringa - though I had fervently tried for the last several days. Thus, I was quite surprised by his kind gesture when he handed me a beautiful orange paper flower. "Who made this?" I inquired in Spanish. "I dunno," he replied with a shrug. "I found it in the cemetery."

                                                    (Oscar is in the front right of this picture.)

Disaster in the Making

It couldn't have been a more perfect day: three friends, Sugarbowl Ski Resort, fresh powder, warm sunshine, snowboards, and a whole lot of inexperience.

After our not-so-graceful dismount from the ski lift, Dawn, Dez, and I sat at the top of a bunny-slope - or so we thought. We quickly realized our dreadful mistake; this was NOT a bunny slope and it was all downhill from here (in more ways than one). You see, we had never been snowboarding before (Dez and I had never even been to a ski resort), we've never had lessons, and we refused to go with any of our experienced snowboarding friends. "Why?" you may wonder. Well, basically, we didn't want to be humiliated on camera! So we three klutzes bonded together to conquer the mountain by ourselves. Unfortunately for me, I soon learned that pride really does go before a fall....

The next thirty minutes were spent watching others snowboard and trying to figure out how we ourselves could do the same since we had yet to even conquer the first step - standing up. I finally stated, with all the courage I could muster: "Well, I saw this snowboarding video on YouTube last night and they said...." The rest is history.

Dez quickly caught on to this harrowing sport. Dawn and I, on the other hand....well, let's just say it didn't come naturally. I finally figured out how to pull myself up on the board and take off down the hill. The only problem was, we didn't know how to slow down or stop. Thus, once I got up on the board, there was no stopping me! As Dez likes to say, "Carissa was head over heels for this sport! Literally." While going full-speed down the hill, my attempt to slow down ended up in a disastrous crash. After landing full-force on the back of my head, I lay dazed on the ground as a migraine and nausea washed over me. I quickly thought, "Okay, what's my name? Where am I? Who's the president?" Since I was coherent enough to think of these questions, I decided I would probably live to tell of this experience

My trip to the emergency room confirmed my suspicions: concussion and whiplash. The next four and a half weeks included nearly three weeks of bedrest, and nearly constant migraines, nausea, motion sickness, and ginger ale (one of the few things I could stomach). Today, six weeks later, I am very glad to be feeling human again! I have so much to be thankful for; including a family who rearranged their schedules to drive me to school/work and read my homework to me, friends who prayed for me, a greater appreciation of life, and loose-fitting clothes! (I lost two dress sizes). Most importantly, this experience has seriously strengthened my faith; I never felt discouraged because I KNEW God was using this experience to change my character (which could use a good overhaul every now and again) and make me a ton more empathetic towards others who are suffering! Truly, God works all things together for good (Romans 8:28).

But just in case you were wondering, I've decided that my next snowboarding attempt won't be until heaven. I think it's safest that way. :o)

Gandhi - Eight Blunders of the World

1) Wealth without Work

2) Pleasure without Conscience

3) Knowledge without Character

4) Commerce without Morality

5) Science without Humanity

6) Worship without Sacrifice

7) Politics without Principle

8) Rights without Responsibility

Honduras - August 2009

Honduras. The very word conjures up vastly different images. For some, you may picture riots, political turmoil, and primitive conditions. But for me, I reminisce about lasting friendships, passionate prayers, amazing miracles, heartfelt worship, breathtaking scenery, and, of course, delicious mangoes! 

 

In August 2009, twenty-two missionaries from the Granite Bay Church Plant and Sacramento Central Seventh-day Adventist Church set out for the adventure of their lives. Many well-meaning friends inquired, “Haven’t you heard about the political turmoil there? Why are you going to Honduras?” We went because we felt called by God. We went because He had a purpose for us in a little town called El Suyatal. We went because we were on a mission; a mission to “teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you.” We claimed the promise that our all-powerful God would be with us “even to the end of the age.”  (Matthew 28:19-20) By the end of this mission trip, we could confidently proclaim that our faith was not in vain.

Before we even left for Honduras, we faced our first obstacle. We had to raise $30,000 in order to construct a dormitory for the Central American Bible School students (a one-year program similar to AFCOE). This is obviously a large sum of money, especially in our tumultuous economy. But we were quickly reminded that the power of our God is not limited by our economy! His riches are always greater than our need. God bountifully supplied the money we needed and more. We are truly grateful for everyone who gave sacrificially for this cause!

We had three main projects to accomplish during this mission trip: build a dormitory, present children’s meetings in a Vacation Bible School format, and conduct an evangelistic campaign. When we arrived in EL Suyatal to work with the Vida International volunteers, we were under the impression that the dormitory foundation had already been completed and was ready for us to begin the bricklaying for the walls. However, that was not the case. Our dedicated team of workers spent most of the next two weeks building a secure foundation by digging trenches, shaping rebar, and pouring concrete. This back-breaking work was heroically accomplished. Since our departure, the Vida International volunteers have continued making great progress on this building. The first floor walls have been constructed and they are now working on the second story. This dormitory will soon house dozens of students spending one-year of their life devoted to evangelism training and outreach! 

Initially, our children’s evangelism team was planning on holding a children’s program every evening while the adult evangelistic series was in session. But a few days after our arrival, the Lord worked an absolute miracle. Due to the challenging political situation, the teachers in the nearby elementary school were not permitted to teach. Because of the friendship that one of the Vida International Bible workers had with a teacher, an amazing door opened for us. Our group was invited to come to this elementary school for three hours every weekday to present health talks, English classes, Christian music, and prophecy Bible studies! Approximately 300 hundred children listened attentively to the life-saving messages presented by our team. In addition to this work, our team also conducted the children’s evening meetings. Around eighty children would pack into the small Adventist church to hear more about the God they were learning to love. Our team cherished the time they spent interacting with the children by singing songs, working on crafts, and studying the Bible. One team member’s heart was particularly touched when she heard an orphan boy singing “This Little Light of Mine” in Spanish as he played in the dirt streets. 

We could easily fill a book with all of our recollections about the incredible miracles worked in and through the adult evangelistic series! Vida International had several Bible workers who had already built friendships with a couple hundred of the 2,000 precious souls in this small town. They had already laid the groundwork for our evangelistic series. Each night, nearly every chair was filled with people seeking to understand the Word of God! I had the opportunity to be the speaker for all eleven evangelistic meetings. It was such a blessing to see the attendees attentively listening as the truth about the great controversy, salvation, and Heaven was presented. You could see that the Bible was bringing freedom to those who had lived all of their lives in fear of death and damnation. What an amazing privilege to speak the Word of God to souls thirsting for that which only God can supply! By the end of the series, twenty-two people made the decision to follow in Christ’s footsteps by keeping the Seventh-day Sabbath. Several individuals asked to be baptized so that they also could die in the watery grave and be raised to a newness of life in Christ Jesus. Praise God! 

Because we were in Honduras during the rainy season, the driving rain was frequently our greatest enemy. During the evangelistic series one night, a torrential downpour unleashed its fury. It beat heavily upon the metal roof, making it entirely impossible to hear the health talk being presented by a Vida International volunteer. At that point, it was pointless to attempt to preach. Not even the blaring sound system could compete with the torrent of rain pounding on the roof and leaking onto the chairs below. We knew that there was only one way that our evangelistic series could take place that night…if God worked a miracle and stopped the rain! Our team quickly gathered in the back of the meeting hall to seek the Lord in prayer, claiming His abundant promises. It was such a blessing to be with these godly people from Sacramento Central SDA Church and the Granite Bay Church Plant. We were all united in prayer truly seeking the presence and power of our almighty Creator. The time came for the Gospel to be preached. As I walked up to the podium, the rain continued to pour vehemently. But the moment I began to speak, it was as though someone turned off the faucet. The rain stopped! For the rest of the meeting, the storm cleared and the whole audience was able to readily hear the message that God had for them that night. Glory be to God! 

There were miracles upon miracles that we could share with you! Without a doubt, God called us to Honduras. He touched not only the lives of the precious souls in El Suyatal, but He also indelibly touched our lives! It is such a humbling privilege to know that the God of the Universe cares about us and wants us to be His ambassadors! Please take a moment to prayerfully consider this question. What is God calling YOU to do today in order to spread the Good News of His salvation?

For more information about Vida International, please visit their website: www.VidaProjects.org

Costa Rica

I wrote this article for The Quiet Hour in 2006 after completing an evangelistic series with them. http://www.thequiethour.org/Page.aspx?pid=357

Costa Rica—the very words bring back amazing memories of many lives changed, including mine.

I wasn’t ever expecting to travel to Costa Rica, much less in September 2006; but the Lord had something else in mind. A friend of mine called and asked, “Carissa, how would you like to preach an evangelistic series in Costa Rica? The series starts in just over two weeks.” I was completely shocked! My friend was scheduled to preach an evangelistic series there through Share Him, but she was no longer able to participate. She was hoping I would take her place. After praying about it, I sensed the Lord’s leading and felt impressed to follow.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I went to Costa Rica. I’m 18 years old and had to travel there by myself. I could not speak Spanish; and I didn’t know a single person in the whole country…but I knew that the Lord was with me. I stayed in a town called Guapiles, which is in the rainforest. There were about six evangelistic sites in that area and about fifteen participants from the States. I think my first bout of “culture shock” hit when I tried to take a shower! No such thing as hot water in that part of the country!

After being in Costa Rica a few days, we decided to tour the sites where we would be preaching. We pulled up in front of this little white church, exactly the image that pops into your mind when you think of a traditional Adventist church. Someone yelled out, “Hey Carissa, I think this is your church!” I sent up a quick prayer and said, “Lord, I hope not!” Might sound like a strange request, but I was really hoping for that “missionary experience”. The Lord definitely answered my prayer! I ended up preaching in a large warehouse. My nightly attendance included bats, dogs, cockroaches, and frogs! It was definitely an unforgettable experience.

Every night before I preached, I would spend time surrendering to Christ and praying for the meetings. I was always so nervous before speaking, but as soon as I stood on the stage and prayed, peace would just “wash” over me. It was powerful to feel the Holy Spirit working through me to touch the lives of others. One woman remarked, “I can see Christ in you!” “Lord, how unworthy I am yet so incredibly grateful for Your powerful presence,” was my heartfelt prayer.

One of the subjects the devil hates the most is what the Bible truly says about the dead. The night I discussed this topic was no exception. To start off, I was in the back of the warehouse greeting the visitors when I noticed the church members seemed concerned and upset. I wasn’t able to understand their concern because I didn’t speak Spanish. I ended up asking a local church member named Sylvio. Sylvio only speaks and understands enough English to translate children’s stories, but is in no way fluent. He replied that my translator hadn’t arrived yet. I was so busy, I had not even noticed! He said, “Carissa, what are you going to do?” What was I going to do?!! I don’t speak Spanish, the visitors had already arrived, and the program was starting. We couldn’t send them away without hearing the Word of God! Amazingly, throughout this whole situation, I felt a great peace. I just knew the Lord had this under control. I turned to Sylvio and asked if he would translate for me. He was shocked! He said he could never do that! But the Lord impressed me to say, “Sylvio, I still believe in a God who works miracles! I still believe God can give you the gift of tongues. I believe that the Lord will give you the power to do what He has called you to do.” I knew these were not my words! After praying together, Sylvio said he would do it. But I suddenly remembered I had not prayed for my translator. I didn’t know if maybe something had happened to him. I looked up after saying a quick prayer…and there was my translator! Almost immediately, we got on the stage and began preaching. But that wasn’t the end of my night! I noticed a new visitor sitting towards the back of the warehouse. I began to speak about the dead, demons, and ghosts. All of a sudden, the new visitor begun to frantically scream and shake his fist at “something” above him, then yell at “something” supposedly next to him. The lights unexpectedly began to flicker…and then went out completely and engulfed us in nearly complete darkness. This definitely added to the ambiance of the night. All the while, I was attempting to preach! It turns out, the man was the ‘town drunk’ and there had been an electrical problem. The devil was trying to distract the audience from the Word of God, but once again his efforts were thwarted.

I was disappointed about one thing though…I didn’t get to join in the children’s program! My friend, Darleen Sanford, was teaching there while I preached. The ratio was about one adult to 30 children. But the Lord blessed in spite of the overwhelming numbers. Even though I couldn’t understand what the children were singing, I could hear the passion for Christ in their voices.

The Church that supported my site only has about 20 members. It was a tiny but loving church. Many of the members came faithfully to the meetings. One member in particular really stood out to me. Most people would remember Freddy for his vibrant blue eyes and huge smile. He and his daughter came consistently to the seminar meetings. But Darleen and I were curious as to why we had never seen his wife. We finally found out from a church member that Freddy’s wife was not a Seventh-day Adventist. In fact, she would not even go to social functions with Adventists. At the end of the sermon one night, Freddy came up to me with his arm around his wife, Rosa. We were so glad she had come to the meeting that night. Their little baby was sick, so we prayed for him. Rosa came to several of the subsequent meetings and we visited her in her home. The last day I was in Costa Rica, Rosa approached me and said she was going to be baptized the next Sabbath! I was thrilled! This precious family is now united in Christ!

Words cannot possibly express what an amazing blessing I received from this trip. Not only was I blessed by the people of Costa Rica, but also by the other speakers in the group from the States. Things like praying for each other in times of need…or getting up at three in the morning to take me to the airport. I learned more about Christ through those in the group.

I am so thankful The Quiet Hour sponsored me. If not for them, I could not have gone on this trip. They (and those who support them) made it possible for five people to be baptized from my site and at least ten to have made the decision to be baptized. The Quiet Hour made it possible for 80 visitors to come to this warehouse and hear the Word of Christ, maybe for the first time. It was such a privilege and amazing opportunity to share Christ with the precious people in Costa Rica. I look forward to seeing many of them in Heaven someday very soon!

The lion, the prince, and the Troy-boy

"Eat me! Eat me!" he shrieked in delight. "Are you sure?" I asked. "YES!" he screamed as a smile lit up his face. "Here we go again," I thought as I snatched Troy, tossed him into the air, bounced up and down, and tickled him as he giggled in delight. To Troy, my two and a half year old nephew, "roughhousing" and "being eaten" are synonymous. "Ah, the joys of being an auntie," I mused.

Later that day, I took advantage of my Christmas break by cuddling up on the couch with lemon-honey tea, a fleece blanket, and a good book. As a single, young adult, I'm frequently given books about how to have godly relationships. Today's read was, "The Laws of Dating." Rule number six adamantly states, "Don't date someone that needs to be rescued..." "So much for the damsel in distress awaiting prince charming," I laughed to myself. My musings were cut short by the whimpering of my eight month old niece, Savannah, who had been playing contently by my feet. I gently scooped her up and began to amuse her by reading in a goofy voice while making silly faces. All the while my sister snapped pictures and my nephew watched on...

"Read please!" Troy asked, while dropping the dating book into my lap. A few days had passed since I had entertained his sister with this "delightful" book and now he wanted in on the fun also. "Oh mercy!" I thought. "How do I make this book kid friendly?" I quickly racked my brain trying to remember all the children stories I had ever heard."Once upon a time," I finally began,"there lived a beautiful and caring young woman..." The story continued to unfold to my nephew as he listened attentively with eyes open wide - a surprising feat for a toddler. "She worked so hard and no one thanked her for her efforts. Her only joy was in her daily horseback rides on Shasta, her large, cream-colored mare. She..uhh..." I stuttered as I created the story as I went - finally settling upon her near demise by a fierce lion and a prince's daring rescue. Not one for violence, I quickly informed Troy that the naughty little lion was scolded by the prince for scaring the poor young woman. He was sent home with his tail between his legs. At this, Troy became noticeably upset. He loudly interrupted my story. "No! NO!" he shrieked to the imaginary lion. "Eat ME! Eat me! Please?"

Someday, I need to remind Troy of the true meaning of "eat." But not today. Today I am just going to smile to myself and enjoy the sweet innocence of youth.