Burnt Offerings

It was a dark summer. I was going to Honduras for the first time in 7 years. It should have been a time of reconnecting, rejoicing, and relaxing. Instead, it was a time of great grief. We had to make a tough decision: quit our jobs, leave our home and school, and move to a different city. Everything was stacked against us. We were going to a smaller school that had only 4 years of operations. We were moving to a more expensive neighborhood. We were moving away from family and friends (my mom lived next door to me.) We didn't have a lot of money (I was not remunerated for the summer). We were moving from a school that our daughters loved. We were moving from a school where we loved our students dearly. The decision took us all summer.

We would go back and forth. Should we stay? Should we go? How, when it is all stacked against us? Can we even afford it? My heart was racing almost every night. My husband had instructed me not to breathe a word about this to the girls and to not spoil their summer. I felt I was lying to them the entire time. They would speak to me about the things they would do with their classmates when they went back to Panama, and my heart would break. They would tell me stories about their friends, and I knew the decision would break their hearts. I would wake up in a panic and tell my husband I had changed my mind; that he and the girls should stay and only I should go. He would tell me he had already set his heart on leaving. He would come back and acquiesce only for me to tell him that we should stick to our first resolution. It was a back-and-forth I am not proud of. I was making decisions out of a place of fear, fear of what we might be losing.

Then there was the issue of my heart. Oh, how it was bleeding! It felt hurt. It felt humbled. It felt guilty. It felt like I hadn't been enough. It felt like I hadn't done a single thing right. I replayed the final scenes before summer in my head over and over again. "How could it have ended that way?" I felt injustice. I felt unappreciated. But most of all, I felt unworthy. The pain in my heart would make me writhe under my blanket, as I tossed and turned every night all night. "Let it go," my husband would say, "You can't keep reliving it. You can't keep blaming yourself. You need to give it to God."

Before this happened, I had met with my mentor, and she had been unequivocal: "Only stay if you hear a clear calling from God to do so. If not, He is clearly moving you." I kept looking for that clear calling, and a Bible verse kept popping up everywhere I looked:

"Has the Lord as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to listen than the fat of rams." 1 Samuel 15:22

I was not going to listen. I was going to find a way. First, I tried to find a way to stay. That was a dead end. Then, I tried to find a way for my husband and girls to stay. That proved more fruitful  as I was offered a position in a more prestigious nearby school. They needed a computer science teacher which better suited my resume. But that decision never gave me any peace. It actually made me feel like I was disobeying. The Bible verse would keep popping up. It was in an Instagram story or a post I was scrolling. It was the verse of the day in the Bible app. It was the verse that a friend was sharing in one of our talks. That was a clear sign! We decided to walk by faith and take a leap. If we had gone by human rationale, we would have never done it. Oh, how lucky that we strive to seek the wisdom of Heaven and not of this world.

The first thing I did as soon as we landed back in Panama was tell the girls (literally, as soon as we got home from the airport!). My heart could not take a single moment longer before I told the girls the truth: We would not be returning to our previous school. Their tears were instant. They cried. I cried. My mom cried. We told them we were moving to a nicer home and a nicer neighborhood. We told them their school would be really nice and that the teachers we knew from the school were also very nice. They would not hear of it. "We don't want a better house or a better neighborhood. We are happy here. We are happy at our school. Why are you changing us?" I knew it would hurt. It hurt really bad. I woke early in the morning the next day and asked them if they were still mad at me. I think it was the first time they said "yes."

Things took a quick turn when they came with us house hunting. Every neighborhood and apartment was better than the previous one. They could see that they would live in a place with a pool, parks, and bike paths. That excited them. They toured the school and could not believe how big the grounds were. "You said this was a smaller school," my younger exclaimed puzzled with surprise as we toured the well-furnished music room, dance room, film room, and art room. "It's smaller in student body size, but they will grow every year," I clarified. They saw the enclosed cafeteria and gym with AC, the roomy classrooms, and the expansive playground and outdoor courts. Their belief that "better" wasn't actually "better" soon evaporated. That was such a relief. They were on board.

We have been living in Panama Pacifico and working at our new school for six months now. We have very few students. I have classes of only two students. I can't say I am complaining, although I miss bigger classes. I miss my students so much, but I am glad I get to see so many of them at church. My husband misses them terribly too. We live in a house with a kitchen island, a walk-in closet, and a balcony; things that seem trivial for anyone else, but for us who never had them, they seemed unattainable. I suffered from impostor syndrome for weeks. "Is this really where I live? I feel I am living in an Airbnb I rented for a nice vacation. This can't be right; I'll soon wake up." I was relieved to realize my husband was feeling the same. "We have access to two pools and a gym?! The girls have their pick of several parks and playgrounds?! They are safe to walk the dog on their own around the neighborhood, because it is extremely safe and guarded?! Nah! This is not happening to us."

I love working at my new school. My students are so amazing, but then again, all of my students have always been amazing. I have loved every single one of them. I can't describe the joy I feel every time I enter my classroom. I decorated it so nicely. I hung a hammock chair instead of a desk chair which makes sitting at my desk a whole different experience. My boss is the most supportive, caring, and funny secondary principal I have ever had. The school director has gone as far as helping me get my work permit sorted out (that whole shenanigan would need a separate post). I feel welcomed, appreciated, and supported.

I would have stayed at my old job. I would have stayed there for years and years. I would have done it for God, but God had more for me. I wonder how many times He has had more for me and I haven't gotten it, because I would let myself be guided by fear, a poor mentality, or my penchant for suffering. Why have I believed that is what God had for me? Those are burnt offerings! It pleases Him more that I obey His voice. He is the Good Shepherd. He makes me lie in green pastures. He leads me beside quiet waters. He guides me along the right path.

As soon as I came back to Panama, I got to serve in the kid's ministry camp. This was the theme Bible verse:

You meant it for evil, but God meant it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.

Genesis 50:20

I felt it deeply in my soul. It was the Lord telling me He has a plan for everything that had happened before the summer began but also telling me I am here for more than all the amenities. I have work to do in the place I have been placed. It is no coincidence I am here if I am here following His voice. My school is not a Christian school, yet my life mission remains: to make disciples of Jesus. It is going to look a lot different than it did last year. It goes beyond my students. I have already seen the many ways He is revealing Himself to me here and calling me to His business. I have to take greater charge of my girls' spiritual life; it was a charge that was always mine and my husband's to start with. We have had personal devotions together every Tuesday and Thursday of 2025. It has been an amazing time spent in the Word, meditation, and prayer together. I was not taking that time before.

Behold, to obey is BETTER!

My hammock! 

We also enjoy the sport's park nearby for some volleyball training together. 

The bike trail is usually not this scary, but I kind of loved that my first ride there looked so eerie. 

We thoroughly enjoy the greenery of the grounds!

I get to see humming birds in my balcony from my kitchen island.

Our dog Bentley has also been blessed here. She goes on daily walks now that the girls can take her without me, so she doesn't rely on mommy being healthy for walks. She loves enjoying balcony time and even watches the hummingbirds with me.

I get these spectacular mountain views when I am on the hammock doing my devotional and meditation.

Thank you, Father, for your faithfulness to us. We owe all to You!

Deliverance from Death

       I am not one to read the Bible where it opened. I'm systematic. I know what I am reading, or I know what I want to read when I want to read something other than what I am systematically reading. But today I read my Bible where it opened. I don't like being the superstitious kind that thinks everything is a sign and when things align it's "God talking to me." But I guess this kind of thinking is prideful and closing me up to look beyond what the eye can see. After reading my friend Diane's book God in the Meantime, I am trying to seek more God's voice like she often did. And I have to say, today I heard His voice so loudly I want to share it with you. 

    My Bible opened to Psalm 116. As a systematic reader that often reads something in the Old Testament and something in the New with some Proverbs and Psalms sprinkled in there most days, I have read Psalms many times in my lifetime. I often overlook them as profound chapters until I study how many times Jesus and other men in the Bible quotes them. After today's reading, I have to take a closer look at Psalms. Before I go into the Psalm, let me tell you what's been going on with me. 

    I have shared how I am taking antidepressants because I suffer from clinical depression. Clinical depression, which has a very physical component due to chemical imbalances in my brain exacerbated by normal everyday problems, is a mental and emotional disorder that is a recognized illness and takes just as many lives as cancer does. This has been the longest I've been on antidepressants taking them since October of last year. I usually take antidepressants when my depression is getting into the "heightened desire or thoughts of suicide" stage that you always hear on antidepressant medication commercials. I always wait until it gets really bad before I seek medical and pharmaceutical help. I've been fighting the stigma on my disease by being timelier in getting the help I need so that I don't let things go too far. But! I don't let myself be on the medication for too long for fear of creating dependency. And so, I am weaning off my antidepressant. I've been steadily feeling better and getting a better grip on my mental and emotional health, so I felt the time to go off the meds was now. The problem with this is that weaning off of these types of medication is dangerous and hard. The doctors warn you that weaning off of them will bring about suicidal thoughts. "This seems crazy. How can me not taking a medication make me think of killing myself?" Well, they're not lying. It's insane. The thoughts come out of nowhere and for absolutely no reason. This begs the question: Should I wean myself from them? Let's answer that question after going into the Psalms. The Psalms was titled "Thanksgiving for Deliverance from Death."

Psalm 116

Verse 1 and 2: 

I love the Lord, because He has heard
My voice and my supplications.
2 Because He has inclined His ear to me,
Therefore I will call upon Him as long as I live.

    This first verse gripped my attention. It doesn't say "He answered my supplications. He gave me what I asked." It says, "He heard me," and this was reason enough for the psalmist to decide to call upon Him as long as he lived. I wrote in my previous post how unanswered prayer has really tested my faith. And here the psalmist is telling me he loves Him for the mere fact that He listens to his supplications... 

6 

Verse 6 - 9: 

The Lord preserves the simple;
I was brought low, and He saved me.
7 Return to your rest, O my soul,
For the Lord has dealt bountifully with you. 

For You have delivered my soul from death,
My eyes from tears,
And my feet from falling.
9 I will walk before the Lord.

    I often battle with my feelings about my cancer because I wish it had never happened and I am eternally grateful it did. It changed me. It brought me low, real low. My friends laugh when I share with them, I am a "reformed pharisee", but I am. I grew up in a church that created division and classes according to "maturity" and "sanctity." It looked down on the "lukewarm Christians" and I was taught to be and act this way. I wondered what the Bible commentary on "simple" had to say. 

“The simple; sincere and plain-hearted persons, who dare not use those frauds and crafty and wicked artifices in saving themselves or destroying their enemies but wait upon God with honest hearts in his way and for his time of deliverance. Such persons he calls simple or foolish, as this word is commonly rendered, not because they are really so, but because the world esteems them so.” (Poole) 

“Not only is God gracious, but he is also gracious to the little people, to the plain, to commoners, to the everyday person on the bus or in the shop – to people like the psalmist. That is one of the great glories of our God. When Jesus called his disciples, he called fishermen and tax collectors. When the angels announced the birth of Jesus, they appeared to shepherds.” (Boice)

    When I consider Jesus, He would have sat with the other group in my church and not with the "mature group" I belonged to. Cancer stripped me of any pride about myself, about my body, about my mental capacities, about my Christian maturity, about my youth or physical abilities. It broke me completely where I could not depend on anything I could do and solely cry out to the Lord in my need with absolutely nowhere else to go. Do you know what a gift that is? As I got better and better, I tried with all my might to hold on to that feeling and total dependance, but my humanity came back!  

    The psalmist was delivered from death. I was delivered from death. If you have been here, you know I struggle with survivor's guilt. "Of course, he can sing to the Lord! He was spared. But what about the others?" is usually my first thought. Let's see what the psalm keeps saying:

Verse 12 and 13: 

12 What shall I render to the Lord
For all His benefits toward me?
13 I will take up the cup of salvation,

And call upon the name of the Lord. 

 

    Pastor Bob said something that has been replaying over and over in my head these past weeks of weaning: "Jesus paid it all for us. There is nothing that can take our Salvation away from us. We are saved. We have the gift of eternal life. With that alone, we should live the most joyful lives ever. We have nothing to worry about anymore ever again!" I believe this is what it means to "take up the cup of salvation." What else can I do for all the benefits God has bestowed upon me than to live in gratitude!  

Verse 15: 

15 Precious in the sight of the Lord

Is the death of His saints. 

 

    I thought long and hard on this verse. How had I not studied it before? What does it mean? I prayed God to speak to me like I haven't in a long time. "He loves my children far more than I could ever love them," is one of the most comforting thoughts I have when I consider the lives of my girls don't rest solely on what I do. He is at work in their lives far beyond than I. If they were to die, it would hurt Him more than it would hurt me. God's saints (His children adopted through the blood of Jesus Christ) are precious to Him. Here the psalmist recognizes he was spared from death, but knows death is a reality to many of God's saints. Their death doesn’t go over God's head. He knows. He is there. He holds them. This is why I have been learning to stop "putting things in perspective." You often do this when you want to lessen your feelings about something. "I am in chronic pain but at least I am not a quadriplegic." "I lost my job due to Covid but at least I haven't lost a loved one." Putting things in perspective to lessen your pain doesn't work and only hurts. They come from lies from Satan. For me, the lies were "How could you be spared, and Kara Tippets wasn't?" And these lies become worse when you try to view your personal relationship with God from what happens to others. This is often the case I see in those who profess to be atheist. "How can you say God is loving with all the hurt, killing, illness, poverty, and injustice you see around the world?" These atheists usually come from a good background and have not personally experienced what they profess to be the reasons not to believe in God. And the people who have actually experienced them are usually the first to cry out and cling to God. It goes back to the point of being simple. I can only view God from His personal dealing with me, and His personally dealing with me was deliverance. And to those that wasn't, precious is to Him. I will only know how precious is to Him when I myself walk through the doorstep of death and feel His love and comfort and being held in that moment by Him. This takes me back to the time I was on my cancer treatment, and I suffered from unshakable joy and trust and faith. I'm telling you the best thing that ever happened to me!

 

    I am weaning off my meds. I was having the most wonderful girls' night with the best friends the body of Christ could have gifted me with here in Panama, Jackie and Tita, and I couldn't stop knitting while sharing with them the Friends' Reunion because I was scared that if I stopped knitting anxiety would take over me. Anxiety that I am experiencing for the mere fact of weaning. I was having the most wonderful family trip eating at a lovely seaside restaurant and thoughts of "you should kill yourself" came to my mind for the mere fact of weaning. It's insane. The difference between me before treatment and me now is that before I would desire these thoughts and fully embrace them. Now, I strike them back with the words of Pastor Bob; I take up the cup of salvation. I fully reject those thoughts! And, slowly the thoughts come less and less, and I open my Bible more and more! 

I accept my deliverance from death and praise God for it instead of questioning Him on why me. 

I open my eyes to see how bountifully the Lord has dealt with me.

 

We found this wild beach close to the San Lorenzo fort in Colon. It was such a great trip with mom out for the first time since her surgery last October.

Family pic at the fort!

My mom was finally able to walk since breaking her pinkie toe three months ago!

Friends Reunion girls' night with Tita and Jackie. We loved having Francia over too!

Second trip to Colon!

I love this man!

Alyla, as my daughters call my mom, is so happy to come with us again. Emmalee said she had been waiting for family trips to come back and spent the night telling her grandparents in Honduras every detail of the trip.

Finally went to the Canal expansion visitor center!

He had been waiting long to finally visit. He was the happiest!

    Oh, how bountiful the Lord is with me!

Is Your Faith Shattered from Unanswered Prayer?

I would be lying if I said my faith hasn't been tested from time to time to the point of almost shattering. Curiously though, when I was sick I had no faith issues. I remember being in the hallway waiting to see the doctor with my carcinoma positive test on my hand about to hear what my fate was going to be. I got a call from my sister who was in great distress over my positive result. "I'm going to be OK. This has not escaped My Father's control. Be confident and do not be afraid." A lady was listening to my conversation because even though my words were calm, sweet, and encouraging to my sister miles away fearing for her sister's life, streams of tears were flowing down my cheeks. She came over and said how stunned she was by my words even though she could see that I was in pain. This continued pretty much during my whole time in chemo and surgeries. I was the one comforting family and friends at the hospital on every surgery and at the doctor's appointments. 

It was easy to have faith. It was the only choice I had. My mortality was so real that my faith in an immortal God was my only hope. I turned to Him in great hope because it was the only hope I had. If I was to die at the age of 30, at least there was something more waiting for me.  

After a year of treatment when all the dust settled, doubt and anxiety took over. Why? C.S. Lewis explains it best in his book "The Problem of Pain"

“At first I am overwhelmed, and all my little happinesses look like broken toys. Then, slowly and reluctantly, bit by bit, I try to bring myself into the frame of mind that I should be in at all times. I remind myself that all these toys were never intended to possess my heart, that my true good is in another world and my only real treasure is Christ. And perhaps, by God's grace, I succeed, and for a day or two become a creature consciously dependent on God and drawing its strength from the right sources. But the moment the threat is withdrawn, my whole nature leaps back to the toys: I am even anxious, God forgive me, to banish from my mind the only thing that supported me under the threat because it is now associated with the misery of those few days. Thus the terrible necessity of tribulation is only too clear. God has had me for but forty-eight hours and then only by dint of taking everything else away from me. Let Him but sheathe that sword for a moment and I behave like a puppy when the hated bath is over--I shake myself dry as I can and race off to reacquire my comfortable dirtiness, if not in the nearest manure heap, at least in the nearest flower bed." 

This quote especifically "I am even anxious, God forgive me, to banish from my mind the only thing that supported me under the threat because it is now associated with the misery of those few days" hits hard. I spent so much time in prayer asking for Kinsley to be spared from her cancer while my chances were looking better and hers were looking grimmer that afterward prayer triggered my PTSD hard. 

I expressed my unbelief to my Bible study group in tears last Sunday. I told them how a brother from my church in Honduras was in the hospital for Covid and how the church asked us to join them in prayer. I had seen so many people in his situation die of Covid in spite of thousand prayers that I did not pray. I didn't want to. He died anyways. My faith had been shattered. I told them how I knew that the power of my prayers was not in me saying the prayer but on the One I pray to. Yet my heart was struggling. It had been struggling since I saw many friends lose a mom or dad, or when I lost a friend in his early 30s about to get married. A brother in my Bible study group recently lost his wife to cancer. He wrote the pastor concerning my comments and struggles. "What would happen if God answered all our prayers for healing? We would have thousands of new believers. We would have thousands of prayer requests." Faith would be dependent on what God can do for us, not on Who God is. Pastor Bob followed this with "Faith has to have an object of our belief. Our faith is not on what He can do for us. It is faith in what He already did for us. Faith is in Who He is and what He has planned for us, which is our hope."

Pastor Bob said that someone once suggested that if you were struggling to know Who God is you should read the book of Colossians. (That is definitely on my TO DO list next. I've read it plenty of times before, but I want to read it again to see what Pastor Bob meant.) Focusing on the person instead of the actions is what keeps marriages and relationships alive and well. If you focus on what they do instead of who they are, it is easy to stop loving them, especially when you feel they have failed you. Today, in our very first church meeting since Covid hit 59 weeks ago, we were singing a song that said "He is my confidence for great is His faithfulness, and He has never failed me yet." A thought pops into my hand: "He didn't fail you. You were spared and you survived." But I would lie if I didn't say the thought that He did fail the others I prayed for that weren't spared. 

My favorite songwritter in the world, Jon Foreman, recently wrote a song called "Jesus, I have my doubts." Everyone in our fan Facebook group was posting that it meant he had abandoned his faith. Expressing your unbelief is a bit of taboo on our Christian circles.  I wish it wasn't because how are you going to get support with your struggles and the lies Satan is feeding you if you don't open up about them? Opening up my bottled up struggles with faith have done so much in helping me get out of the valley of unbelief and take me closer to the mountain of confidence.

After voicing these thoughts to my Bible study group, we read these verses together: 

Hebrew 4

14 Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. 15 For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. 16 Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.

Isn't it refreshing that God tells us He understands us because He walked in our shoes? We can approach confidently in our time of need, which includes our times of unbelief. How else will I return to a state of belief otherwise?

Hebrews 10
19 Therefore, brothers and sisters, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, 20 by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, his body, 21 and since we have a great priest over the house of God, 22 let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water. 23 Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. 24 And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, 25 not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.

People leave the church because they no longer believe. They never spoke of this and never got the proper encouragement. His great faithfulness is not in Him giving us all we ask. It's in Him always being by our side, even when we move far from Him. He is faithful even when we hurt Him. He has never failed a single one of His children!

Hebrews 10

35 So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded.
36 You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what He has promised. 37 For,
“In just a little while,
He Who is coming will come
and will not delay.”
38 And,
“But my righteous one will live by faith.
And I take no pleasure
in the one who shrinks back.”
39 But we do not belong to those who shrink back and are destroyed, but to those who have faith and are saved.

It's not just trust. It's CONFIDENT trust. It says DO NOT THROW AWAY! How will my thoughts be corrected if I do not seek for the truths in His Word? But when a person is struggling with his or her faith, he or she need the body to encourage them. I was directed to put my eyes away from the pain and death and back to Jesus. My heart was encouraged. My mind was filled with Scripture. My faith was strengthened. The lies were brought to the light. 

Do not shrink back and be destroyed. The richly reward is Jesus. Do not miss out on Jesus because you have been silent about your strugges with faith. 

Open up and let the enemy be pushed back.

Do not leave the church. 

He is our great reward, the only reward!

Dear Father,

Thank you, Lord, for my study group. Thank you for the truth they brought to my heart. Thank you that they encouraged me to pray always when someone asks for prayer. They told me that I may not see the healing I was praying for, but I don't what my prayers do to prepare the person who is about to depart or to comfort the bereft. I don't know what praying does, but it's never in vain. It is never in vain turning to Him. Thank you for spurring me to be in the group of those who hold unservingly to the hope we profess and belong to the those who do not shrink back. Thank you for letting me know you are not unaware of my weakness, and you understand me. Help me trust and see and hear you. 

Amen

On Leaving My Previous Church

 A friend of mine recently posted a blog post about why she left the church and her Christian faith. She began by saying that when she decided to leave the church she was met with similar platitudes from those trying to convince her to stay: 

• Don't let some bad apples (meaning bad Christians) turn you away from Jesus.
• You are the problem. You have a bitter root. 

Now, I'm not writing this post as an antithesis of what she wrote or to convince anyone to do otherwise. I'm going to write to process how I felt reading her post, how I have felt myself after leaving my church of 20+ years, and the ongoing struggle in my mind to where to go from there. 

My friend said when she was trying to be convinced not to leave, no one wanted to hear her story. They just wanted to fix her. This is often too real in pretty much every aspect of human life. I was listening to a podcast on "mom shaming" that is so pervasive in society. One of the things that caught my attention was that the speaker who was advocating for mom-shaming to stop was the first to admit she had mom-shamed other moms herself. I've written a post on that before here where I was sleepless because I felt so bad of having mom-shamed someone and here were I rant on people´s comments of my girls. I was one of the ones who told my friend "You have a bitter root."

I feel ashamed of that. One, I said it in a Facebook comment. Wow! We are too loose with our tongues on the internet. Two, while I did know part of her story, I didn't take the time to follow up or know how she was feeling when I said that to her. She got upset with me for saying that to which my defense was that "I knew how she was feeling because I was battling my own bitter root from getting cancer." I thought cancer had made me more empathetic, but I have ways to go.    

Christians are too loose with their "fixes." I almost went into a rant today when I read in a mom group a mom saying she had been sexually assaulted when she was little, and she needed a good recommendation for a psychiatrist to help her deal with the trauma so she wouldn't let it affect her family now that she is a mom and wife. Almost 80% of the comments were in the line of "All you need is Jesus. Just seek Jesus! Jesus can help you heal your heart and forgive." I couldn't help myself and I did reply to some of them, the ones I found, as my friend puts it, toxic. 

So, to suck the poison and toxicity that exists in the Christian world, I need to start with myself. My brother says I've become too much of a social warrior. I will go on a rant on "#meToo" (especially being a survivor of sexual abuse and sexual harassment) to whoever belittles it; I will rant on immigration and how it is "illegal" to try to find a better life for yourself because of man-made borders; I will rant on Donald Trump and whoever wants to pass him on as Christian. This year one of my resolutions was to not be a social warrior anymore because I tend to bulldoze over those on the other side of the debate, which is not very Christian of me. I intentionally try my best not to rant. 

Lately, I try to be an advocate for grief protection. You see, especially in the Christian community, grief is not allowed. If you are grieving, it´s a lack of faith or lack of prayer or lack of fasting or lack of time in the Word. Depression is not permissible or justifiable. It is a lie; it is the Devil; it is your own weakness and temptation. I had to go through my own deep grief to realize this was a form of violence. You don't negate other people´s feelings. You don´t ask them to put them in perspective. You don´t tell them how to fix it or how they´re going through it because they´re not good enough. This is psychological VIOLENCE. This is psychological violence I suffered during my cancer journey and that I had and probably still have enacted on others too. If Christianity is not willing to understand its flaws and change, we can't keep telling people "it's a few bad apples." 

This is why I left my church of most of my life. I have fond memories of my church. I made great friends there that I still hold dearly and closely. I met my husband there. I spent my youth in missions and worship bands and plays and so many good things. But I reached my boiling point after years and years of psychological violence and neglect. I would need way too many words to express correctly what was wrong with my church. I mean, at one point, my youth leader who was 15 years my senior and had been my youth pastor since I was 12 asked me to marry him two weeks after I turned 18! It took me many years to realize I had been groomed to accept that proposal. And thank God I didn't! 

It took many years to reach that boiling point. I was so close-minded in everything. I was even taught other churches were wrong, and I could only collaborate and work within my church. I was placed in discipline from serving in church for dating my husband even though when I started dating him I was 21 and I had finished college. Mind you, he was my first kiss! I made myself miserable to the point of being too ashamed to have my alone time with God because I had romantic feelings towards him. Toxicity at its highest, toxicity I was taught and fed.  

The post went on to say that it wasn't only the bad apples in church that were turning her away, but now she also had an issue with God. She didn't like the God of the Bible who slayed the Egyptians´ firstborn or the many times He commanded Israel to wipe out a nation. I wrote something along those lines here where I write why I still believe in God after getting cancer. In a nutshell, you knew who God was from the beginning of your faith. If it was easy for you to believe in Him when things were good in your life but find it easy to turn from Him when things are not going as you expected them, your faith was not in God but in what He could offer you. I want to understand the pain my friend says she endured. I certainly endured and still endure a share of pain and loss that not many people know from such a young age. You can read about it here and here. I'm not comparing pain. Everyone´s pain is their own and it's theirs to make as big or small as they experienced it. I do not believe anymore in "putting things in perspective" when trying to comfort someone. 

Back to my almost rant for the comments of the mom seeking psychiatric help. Jesus is the way. I know it firsthand because I know Who held me in my deepest despair. I know it because I almost left my faith when Kinsley died and had to walk a desert to find Him again. He kept calling. He kept holding me. But I was treated with psychiatric help, and I'm still in need of psychiatric help to deal with my PTSD. Jesus is the way, but He alone is not enough. This is why He established His church on earth. He prayed our unity would bring people to Him. He prayed we'd be one with Him. I found a good church here in Panama. A church who hasn't shown a single shred of psychological violence towards me after almost three years there. A church who has held me and brought me closer to my beloved Jesus. It's sad because so many of the friends I grew up with excited to love Jesus and live for Him ended up reaching their boiling point too, and many never found a safe place to worship and grow and hold each other up in Christ. Some have bounced from church to church seeking that place and coming out so belittled they no longer see the point of it. Some have found a deeper relationship with God in a good church they ended up establishing when reaching their boiling point together. Some renounced their faith and after more than a decade of doing so, their lives are none the better; if anything, they just seem lost. It's sad because I loved my church so dearly. Leaving it was gut-wrenching. And once you leave a church like that you are almost completely shunned by those who stay in it, pretty much losing all your extended family. I found a new one that I love very dearly. I'm glad it's out there. 

Picture of my youth group after a church service.

100% of us have left the church or moved to a different church after pretty much living all our teenage years in and out of church serving fervently. 

  

Jesus is the way, but He also ate food and drank water and slept. We can't be hippies about our faith. I mean this with no disrespect, but your "Jesus is enough" is not enough. 

James 2

15 Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. 16 If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it? 17 In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.

I struggle to see Jesus some days. Will I end up giving up after so much pain? I pray not. I see the lives of those who truly follow Jesus and those who follow the world, and I'm in good company with my fellow Jesus-lovers. They are the best thing in my life. That includes my mom and dad, my in-laws, my husband, my closest friends, my mentors and pastors. I pray to stay close to them and follow their example. It's not as easy as many would say it is. If it is for you, I'm happy you don't endure much struggle. But if you found Jesus, I'm happy you have the lover of your soul present in your life during the hardships that come with this life on this broken world. 

This is not an easy subject. It is not something that you have just one answer to offer. The need for change in Christianity and many churches is too real and palpable to brush it as bad apples. The need for listening and opening up your mind to needs and grief and pain and true help is urgent. You don't have to agree with me. I don't even fathom to have the full understanding of anything myself. I do open my mind to be better and do better because change must start with me.   

Do you believe in miracles?

This question has plagued me for the past 4 years, but, if I'm honest, it's plagued me all my life.
I`m a Gideon. I`m a Thomas. I want the signs and the clear answers from God. I want to see the rain only on one side; and when I am still not satisfied, I want the rain on the other side now. I want to put my finger in the wounds and see Him walking.

In a sense, I think I don't give myself enough credit. I´ve always felt Jesus`scolding "You of little faith" is directed to me, but I guess in human standards I`m doing better than the disciples. I mean, these men have seen Jesus do impossible things, yet they wanted more faith.

Luke 5

5 The disciples said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!”

6 He replied, “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it will obey you.

How could they have needed more faith after all they had seen Jesus do? And Jesus´answer has always plagued me as well. If your faith was as small as the smallest seed, it could still do impossible things possible. If I've never seen an impossible thing happen, is my faith not even as small as a mustard seed? Was the disciples`faith smaller than that as well even after they saw these impossible things? If I saw a miracle my faith would be unchanged?

I`ve prayed for miracles. I`ve asked God to show Himself and His power to me all my life. I begged my friend Nancy would come out of her comma and instead she was declared brain dead. I begged for a miracle for Kara, Giana, and Kinsley. They loved Jesus so passionately, I couldn't fathom God`s answer being a "no", but it was. When my friend Chele was diagnosed with cancer a year after I was, I didn't even pray for a miracle.

Chele died two days ago after a battle that was less than two years long. In the end, cancer had consumed him in such a way his death was a relief. Is it horrible for me to say that, or is it a small insight that death is not the end and not the enemy? Our human minds can't understand the kindness behind death. I understand it better. Surviving cancer to me has been a hard burden to endure. It sounds unbelievably selfish of me to say something like that after so many don't survive, but being left with chronic pain for the rest of my life sometimes makes me wish I had gone to Jesus. 

I feel selfish sometimes by how much I long for His second coming. I want the new life and the new world to come to fruition. This world is no longer luring to me. But my loved ones can still feel a sense of thriving in this side of life. I feel bad wishing it was over, but aren't we all called to long for His coming? My godmother, Sue Powell, has had a lifetime battle with chronic pain. She survived cancer almost 40 years ago. No one longs for Jesus` second coming as much as she does. But her desire for His coming is for her longing to be with her Savior, not the end of her pain. She reminds me of my grandmother, who made into her 90s, but had been telling me for almost 10 years before her passing how much she longed to go to Jesus. I would get sad and tell her not to say that. I was only thinking of myself. Sue tells me the same things, and even though we've never met face to face, I don't want to imagine a world where she is not in it. But her miracle would be to go to Jesus.

Am I a miracle? Next month will be my fourth year when I was diagnosed with cancer. I'm still here and my checkups have come clean. My brain refuses to believe I am a miracle because the chances of those checkups not coming clean are always present. "What if I tell the world I am a miracle and I was cured, and my cancer comes back to claim me?" You see, I would consider myself a miracle if I died of something other than cancer. But we are all going to die, one way or another. What is the purpose of me searching for a miracle that only means I didn't die of X or Y? 

The miracle is love. My friend Chele was a miracle and got a miracle. He was loved so well by his wife. She literally laid down her life for him. I never saw her or Chele crying or wallowing in self-pity. Chele used his last words to preach Jesus and praise His goodness and glory. He was stuttering, but could not contain the message of hope he had received. His wife endured hardship, loneliness, and reclusion, yet all she ever did was praise God's goodness and provision for her. Even after her husband's passing, she knows she got a miracle. The miracle was that she found a husband whom she loved and loved her back. The miracle was that they were generously provided for in the darkest hours by the love of God and the love of those around them. The miracle is that she has hope her husband is happy with Jesus and one day she'll see him again, restored and himself all because of the love of God that sent Jesus to die for her. The miracle is love. Love was not wanting in their lives. It was ever present.

I remember this one time when I was 18 years old I was in a government office waiting room waiting for my number to be called. You know those places are hell on earth, especially in a third world country. I began giving the gospel to a man sitting in front of me. He asked me how I could believe in a God I had never seen. "Oh, but I have seen Him," I told him, " He has been there, I have felt His embrace, I have heard His voice. I know He is real." That young girl said that with such conviction! He had been my Father when my father moved out of the house because of the divorce; and when I read in His Word that He would be my Father I never felt fatherless. I had never been alone after I read in His Word that Jesus promised to be with me all days until He returned. I felt loved when I read in His Word that He was preparing a home for me and had laid down His life for the ransom of mine. I felt His embrace when I cried alone at night and I read in His Word that we can console others because He consoles us. I heard His voice when I would pray to Him and His Spirit would bring His Word to my mind and give me all the answers.

The miracle is experiencing Jesus in your life. The miracle is living in His love, even with chronic pain or longing for His return. The miracle is knowing He is always with us, He cries with us and has cried with all of us who mourn Chele's passing. 

Do I believe in miracles? 

Jesus loves me, so... Yes! I believe in miracles.

Serving with Chele in the church band. It was always a pleasure serving with him, not just because he was one of the best drummers or singers, but because he always knew how to connect us to Jesus with his words and emotions. He sang for the King and it showed!

Chele knew the kind of friend he had in my husband. I still remember him calling my husband at 3 am to help him move his sound equipment out of a venue. I would get upset that he always called Rodol, but Rodol would tell me he was his friend and he was there for him. I'm sorry we couldn't be there in his last years being so far away.

You are forever in our minds and hearts. We are so sad that he left us so young. We will continue to lift Isis in our prayers.
May the Lord console you and give you His peace and hope.