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.”

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Hope in the sand

Last week, I was vacationing with my family in the Caribbean, and my sister and I were frolicking on the beach, taking pictures, swimming, jumping in and out of the waves, and running along the sand. It was one of those moments of pure bliss. Then my sister began to write in the sand. She wrote “Life is beautiful.” Then took a cool picture and posted it on Instagram. Following suit, I wrote “Love” in the sand and quickly captured the picture.

Then, without much thought I began to write “Hope” in the sand next to our other words. As I was writing, a man walked by and made a comment as I was writing the word. I didn’t actually hear what he said; I just smiled and kept writing “Hope” in the sand. A few minutes later, as I was just about to snap a few pictures of my word, the same man came by again.

This time he stopped and said, “Oh, so that’s what you were writing, ‘Hope’. Can you tell me about that?”

I stood there dazed for a minute, was this man seriously asking me to explain hope? After processing his question, I began to explain hope to him, “Really, it’s simple; hope is everything. Without hope, we don’t have a reason to get up in the morning.”

He looked at me puzzled for a second, and then responded, “Where do you get your hope from?”

It was at that moment that I knew without a doubt the only answer to his question.

“God.”

We talked for another 15 minutes about God, Jesus, salvation and eternity. He asked questions about my faith, and as I answered them, I felt more and more empowered, and I knew that it wasn’t me speaking but God through me. While we were talking his young daughter nearly stepped on my sand drawing, and he stopped her saying, “No sweetie, don’t step there that’s very important. In fact, it’s everything.”

A few seconds later, I looked down and noticed the little girl writing “hope” next to my drawing. Her father smiled with tears in his eyes.

When we finished our conversation, I walked back to my lounge chair. A few minutes later the man reappeared. He apologized for bothering me again, but the words he spoke were so sincere and real as if God himself were speaking them. “You know how everything happens for a reason. I know why I came on this vacation. Not to eat good food, swim in the beach, shop, or hang out. There was a reason I was on this beach feeding these fish at this moment. That reason was to come across the “hope” in the sand. You have changed my life. Now I have a reason to keep going and keep living.”

That encounter changed my life as much as his. A reminder that even something as simple as writing in the sand can change someone’s life, and really hope is all there is. Hope for eternity, hope for a better world, hope for peace, hope for love, hope for change, hope for people, hope in God, hope for tomorrow.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Romans 15:13