Search Party

"We contacted the Minister of Defense and a helicopter was about to take off from Ibague to start searching for you. We had two marine boats and one police boat, two canoes and our boat looking. We were whistling and yelling... now I want to hear your side of the story," my mom approached us and stood watching us with her hands on her hips.

I was shocked. The Minister of Defense? Really? Marines? What?

The shock produced laughter in me. I looked at Carina and Deepika and just started giggling. There was a real, actual search party... searching for... me and Deepika.

So, I took a deep breath and launched into "my side" of the story...

While in Prado, Deepika and I were sitting in the lake around dusk, watching Carina ski. She got up on the third try and as we cheered wildly for her, we finally lost sight of her and kept talking. If you've ever been to Prado, you know how easy it is to get lost in conversations while floating in the lake surrounded by glorious scenery. However, it soon began to get darker... and darker... and darker until Deepika nervously asked me if we were ever going to get picked up. I figured something happened to the boat and suggested we start swimming back toward the island. So we started swimming... and as we continued talking we witnessed the first stars appear in the black canvas above us. The water reflected the glimmering lights and the slight waves were relaxing.

But all this wasn't enough to loosen the knot growing in my stomach... Why hadn't my dad picked us up yet? If a boat came straight toward us, we'd have no way of swimming out of the way fast enough... I began feeling more nervous and I could sense Deepika's panic quickening. We decided to pause and pray for peace and protection. The sense of relief was almost immediate. We figured we might as well keep swimming toward the island.

For the next hour and a half, Deepika and I continued swimming and talking about everything and anything. The quiet night was only interrupted by our voices and frequent giggles. Then, we were shocked when we heard a small boat motor approaching and turned to see a spotlight blinding us.

My memory is a little blurry about what happened next, but I heard Deepika frantically saying, "Vivi, oh my gosh. Vivi. Oh my gosh. Vivi..." and then her voice began to quiet as her gripped on my arm tightened. I was laughing. I was laughing because I was so scared. I tried swimming out of the way of the boat, but felt my legs as heavy as lead. I wondered if my arms had turned into spaghetti... and I imagined what it would feel like to be run over by a boat. And I couldn't help laughing... it was laughter triggered by frantic nervousness.

Somewhere along the way, I managed to find my voice and began shouting, "Ojo! Estamos aqui!!" (Watch out! We're here!). And the motor stopped. And we could hear voices... They were murmuring to one another. I picked up something like, "There they are! We found them."

We were asked to climb into a dug out canoe with these strangers who claimed they had been looking for us everywhere. I obeyed as quickly as I could, struggling to climb into this canoe without tipping it. Once Deepika and I were safely in the boat they began telling us about how worried my parents were...

But it wasn't until I got back to the island that I realized just how worried they had been.

The Minister of Defense?
Marines?
Policemen?
Stopping every car leaving Prado to make sure we weren't stuffed in the trunk?
A helicopter?

For the next hour I was answering phone calls from worried friends making sure we had been found. Apparently our pastor's wife had sent out an email asking for prayer.

Deepika and I tried to think back about our night swim, when we were so oblivious to the panic consuming everyone else. We really had been surrounded by God's peace through all these prayers.

What a day!

Ready or not... Here we goooo :)

I head to Colombia tomorrow.

Tomorrow... for three months.

Three months is just enough time for me to feel like I'm living there, not just visiting. Strange... because I've never actually spent a summer in Colombia. Ever. When I tell people that, they usually look really shocked and ask me to explain. You see, I've spent most summers of my life traveling around North America with my family, visiting supporters. We're normally in the Chicago area for a couple of weeks at a time and then we go off on random adventures to different corners of the United States. In high school, I've spent at least a month in Canada at Camp Medeba. Between my junior and senior year, I was in Uganda. And last summer I was at Medeba the whole summer.

So now, I finally get to spend a summer in Colombia. I'm so excited... and yet, I feel an unexpected nostalgia.

I won't get to experience long, summer evenings. Or lightning bugs at dusk. Or warm, sunny days and then the comforting lull of a summer night. Why these things keep popping into my head, I do not know. It'll be different spending a summer in a place where the sun sets at 6:00 pm and where the weather is always betwen 65 and 75 degrees F (18 and 23 C).

It'll be odd spending a summer working full time.
As of now, I will be working at an English Insitute as an ESL teacher for companies who want their employees to improve their English. This should only be 3-5 hours a day and then in the afternoons, I hope to work with World Vision in some kind of internship. When I'm not doing either of those, I will be helping my dad with the foundation. I'll probably be working on translating the website, so they can have an English version up as well.

It feels unreal that I'll be back in Colombia for enough time to unpack my clothes, settle in and try to feel at home again.

Well, goodbye America. I'll see you on August 12.

Frantic Panic Attacks

Exams are over.

Papers are all turned in.

The weather is great.

Summer is here.

I'm currently writing from Montreat, North Carolina. I can look out the window and see gorgeous trees and hills. Oh, the hills. How I had grown accustomed to the mid-western flatness... and how refreshing seeing hills and mountains has been.

I flew into Asheville yesterday to visit my brother for a couple of days. I only get to see him once or twice a year, so this will be the first time since January and probably the last until next January. I always love hanging out with him. He brings me so much joy; his friendship is unique and I'm constantly thankful that we have more than a friendship... God made us siblings.

We went kayaking this afternoon and as I walked down the road, carrying my kayak, I smiled and told him, "Ahh... now it feels like summer." Walking down the tree-covered road in flip flops with a kayak balancing off my shoulder, on our way to a lake... wonderful. I was determined to learn how to roll, but quite honestly, something about being attached to a boat underwater terrifies me. I panic quickly and begin to frantically flail my arms. No rolls can come about from this franticness.

We did a couple of T-rescues and then he ordered me to flip over and try a roll. My stomach tightened and I struggled to breathe well. I began stalling and I heard my voice switch into a whine quite quickly. Finally, I did it, and sure enough, I was frantically trying to get out of the boat, but was able to wait for his boat to help me out without wet-exiting. The water was freezing and I made a mental note of that, knowing I could use that as an excuse to stop soon.

He was an excellent teacher, but I was quite an awful student. After a major panic attack when I couldn't find his boat and then couldn't properly perform a T-rescue I decided to rest and later got back in the water to try a couple more times.

I still can't do a roll...

But maybe some day I will be able to :)

I'll be here 'till Tuesday and then I'm off to Colombia on Thursday...

Let the summer begin!

What Original Dimensions?

Everyone said that freshman year of college is extremely transformative. People say it shakes you to the core and redefines you in different ways. Statistics show that people change the most their first year of university than in any other year of life.

How it would affect me was definitely a mystery to me. I felt pretty solid in who I was and wasn't sure how this first year would change me. Part of me was stubborn, claiming that I wouldn't be "different", but the other more realistic side acknowledging that I am not immune to the effects of this transitionary year.

I'm not. I'm not immune.

Though I grew up in a developed city and have spent much time in North America before, I still experienced a certain degree of culture shock upon arrival in August. To say that it was no big deal is an understatement; to say that I'm fully adjusted, a lie. But to put that experience into words feels overwhelming, nearly impossible.

A year ago I was a high school senior, casually thinking about my possible future. Would I go to college? Possibly. I remember looking up organization after organization that promised an incredible gap year. I think I began applying to several. And then, in the end after applications and rejections and acceptances, I had narrowed down my choices to two universities: Wheaton College and the University of Illinois. I tend to be a quite decisive person, but for some reason, I mulled over this decision for weeks. Finally, the week of my decision, after much praying and processing and talking to others, I clicked "accept" on the U of I page. And that was that...

The end of high school feels like a really long time ago. And though I feel the same, I know that I'm not the same person who received her diploma in June of last year. In the words of Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr., "A mind that has been stretched by new experiences can never return to its original dimensions." Is that what has happened to me? Have I been stretched in ways I could have never imagined and now struggle to find my old dimensions? What is it that makes me shrink from change, though I understand that nothing can come into being without it?

And though change scares me, I recoil from a stagnant life. I don't want to be the same 12 months from now. I want to look back and see the ground I've covered with Christ. I want to pin point moments of growth. I want to be more like Jesus then than I am right now. I wantthis change.

But change can be painful.

Change is usually painful.

These last 12 months have carried me through a variety of circumstances: farewells, summer fun, college transitions, going back home, college routines and finally, summer... again. It's as if I've come full circle, but... it doesn't feel like the same circle anymore.

I've been challenged to think through my faith and cling to it when others around me don't hold these same views. I've been encouraged to allow God to change my idea of ministry. I've learned to love a country that isn't home. I've struggled to transition and belong, never having felt so foreign before. And I've been sifted and tried, prompted to let God flow into every aspect of my life.

And that... that has been a twelve month process, bound to continue throughout my lifetime...

What is at the bottom of your joy?

Passion 2011: Fourth and Final Session

He began by saying, "I hope that you could come to enjoy being made much of by God... that God would be glorified as your supreme treasure."

Quite honestly, I don't think about being made much of by God very often. It was an odd statement to make and it puzzled me. However, before that thought had settled John Piper was on to the next point... He asked, "What's at the bottom of your joy?" Also an interesting thought...

Because, you see, every source of joy has a bottom... another source... except for one. And until you answer that question, you don't know who you really are. You're either a person who most deeply enjoys God-exaltation or self-exaltation.

I shifted in my seat and furiously scribbled sermon notes in my notebook. The question was daunting: What's the reason behind the things that make me happy? If you keep stripping the layers, what is the source of all my joy?

God loves me because he puts himself at the bottom of my joy. If he didn't require me to allow him to be the source, then I would never experience real joy. His being at the bottom results in my utmost satisfaction.

But this concept is hard to wrap my mind and heart around... Christianity isn't about turning to Christ to fulfill my unregenerate desires. I don't accept Christ and now say, "I'm going to stop depending on self to have a 'happy' life and I'll turn to Christ." I don't turn to Jesus and say, "I'll stop trusting doctors for health and start trusting you." You see, these desires are universal. You don't have to be a believer to desire happiness and health and comfort. But the regenerate soul delights in regenerate desires. I have to sever the roots of self... and replant my entire life in a new foundation... develop new roots.

This "new birth" that we talk about so casually is actually a murder scene. The Holy Spirit comes into my life and kills the old bottom... my old source of joy: self. And only then can I truly say that if you force me down to the bottom, then you would see that I'm not like the rest of the world... my desires have been regenerated-- my bottom is different.

I can pray to the Giver of all good things, "Make enjoying you more powerful than enjoying stuff," and I can see that prayer realized in my life... when Christ is at the bottom.

I can feel the tension in knowing that God tells us that he loves us for his own sake, time and time again. I can feel that tension and know that my new self rejoices knowing that God's love for me glorifies him. God sends the savior and he gets the glory. What a wonderful transaction. I receive salvation so that I can devote the rest of my life and my eternity to making much of him. What a glorious destiny.

Piper proceeded to list of seven (out of many) ways that God makes much of us. I'll briefly mention them.

God makes much of us by...

1. Being pleased with us and commending our lives even though we disappoint him every single day of our lives.
2. Making us fellow heirs with his son who owns everything (Romans 4:13, 1 Corinthians 3:21). You don't need it-- whatever IT is for you-- here on this Earth, because its already yours when you when you drop dead in two seconds.
3. Having us sit at a table when he returns and serves us as if we were masters and he is slave. Jesus wasn't just a servant for 33 years.
4. Appointing us to make judgement on angels (1 Cor 6:3).
5. Ascribing value to us, rejoicing over us as a treasured possession (Zephaniah 3:17).
6. Giving us a glorious body like Christ's resurrected body.
7. Granting us the right to sit with Christ on his throne (Revelation 3:21).

God's love always draws attention to his supreme value... his love is so great that he doesn't make you-- or me-- the end of this love.

A heart that has been made for God will never be satisfied by self.