God is Beautiful

It was late May 2013, my body ached from soreness and tiredness. My eyelids were heavy from sleep deprivation. My younger sister and I were on the last leg of a marathon trip through Europe. We had visited three countries in two weeks and were spending the last 4 days in an obscure Spanish beach city. We had arrived to Valencia earlier that morning by plane, then headed to a local bus station to board our bus for a 3 hour journey down the Spanish Coast. By the time we were on the bus, I was completely exhausted and entirely tired. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and drift into a much needed nap. Before falling asleep, I set my alarm to awaken me in two hours so that we wouldn’t miss our stop.

Little did I know that my phone was set to silent, and I would not hear the usual melody of the iPhone alarm.

I believe in the sovereignty of God in all things, so in addition to setting my alarm I said a quick prayer to God asking him to make sure we didn’t miss our stop. Then, I drifted into a deep, deep sleep. I’m not sure how long I slept before waking up, but when I looked down, my phone alarm was silently going off. And we were quickly approaching our bus stop. Awakened, I was suddenly super vigilant of our surroundings. At that very moment, I looked out the bus window, and there it was. A hand wrapped gift from God. I tried to pull out my phone to snap a pic, but I wasn’t quick enough. It was only a momentary glimpse. It was gone in a split second. Had I slept for a minute longer, I would have missed it. But God was gracious enough to allow me to see the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.

As we were driving down the Spanish coast, there was a spot where the cliffs and mountains met the ocean in perfect harmony. The blue hue of the water looked unreal contrast against the rocky cliffs. The sky and the ocean blended into the infinite horizon. The scene was perfection and reminded me of the beauty of God and His beautiful creation. Like an artist painting a masterpiece on his canvas, God handcrafted this earth and everything in it. The Bible says: “The earth is the LORD’s and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein, for he has founded it upon the seas and established it upon the rivers.” -Psalm 24:1-2.

If He takes that much care to create the ocean and mountains, then how much more care does He have for us, created in His image? Seeing scenes like that I feel very grateful to be part of His creation because He is a splendid artist and the earth and His people are His masterpieces.

God is beautiful, and so are His people. All of them.

They speak of the glorious splendor of your majesty– and I will meditate on your wonderful works. Psalm 145:5

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I am still going

I woke up this morning from texts from my sisters. My dad called, then my best friend Jade. They all had one question: “Are you still going?”

“What?” I responded, “what are you talking about?”

“There was a terrorist attack in Kenya, 147 killed.”

My heart sank. Tears formed in my eyes. So many questions raced through my head. Where was the attack? Who did it? ARE MY KIDS OKAY? I quickly grabbed my computer and googled “terrorist attack in Kenya”, a search term I dreaded typing with every keystroke. My heart pounded as I considered all the possibilities.  The thought of terrorism was hitting more close to home. I quickly scanned through the articles looking for anything familiar. I mapped out the distance from the attack to the school I’m planning to move to. I looked for any familiar names or faces. Those faces I did not recognize, but my heart still ached for a people I consider my own.

Three years ago, I made my first trek to Kenya, 1 year ago I went again, and 5 months ago I decided to move there. Unbothered by the threat of disease, unmoved by the “potential” risk of terrorism. Unfazed by the distance from home, the limited internet, and the lack of modern conveniences. My resolve never changed: “I’m moving to Kenya. My heart is already there.” It had become an automatic response anytime anyone questioned my move or my motives. The Lord is calling me there, surely I can face any of these “risks.” Surely, right?

This morning my resolve was shaken. My once automatic response replaced with an unsteady unsureness. My faith tested. “Am I really brave enough?” I asked myself.

The articles I’ve read about the attack say they separated the Christians from the Muslims, then executed all the Christians. These young students gathered for morning prayer and killed for their faith, for their belief in the one true King, killed for their devotion to the Father. Could I be that brave?

Probably not. But thankfully I don’t have to rely on my strength and courage. As Paul wrote, “For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.” Dying is not the end, it’s the beginning of eternity. To be sure, I am filled with fear at the thought of moving to a country privy to terrorist attacks, but am I still going? Yes, I am still going. Of course, I am still going. Aren’t my kids still there? Is not my heart already there? Have I not been praying for this move?

Putting my life on the line for Christ just got more real for me. But isn’t that the way it should be. Shouldn’t believers of Christ be considered the crazy ones, the bold ones, the daring ones? My prayers aren’t that the Lord would keep me safe and comfortable while I am there, but that I would be poured out for Him and be used to spread His message and give Him glory. I’ll let Him figure out the rest.

“Kristen, did you hear what happened? Are you still going?”

“Yes, I am still going.”