waiting

waiting...this seems to be my word for 2010. i am always waiting. not always. that is too provincial. but it does seem that i tarry quite often. i know...that this is often what the Lord does...he allows us to wait upon Him so that we might gain something richer, more worth the taking. i have not been waiting very well. examples are elusive and i have much to contend with in this mind of mine. quiet is what i need. quiet is what i want. quiet is difficult and ever so elusive to my painstaking attempts at normalcy and what the new, affable world calls 'chill'. i have a difficult time with waiting. patience seems to be more and more within my grasp but i still consider myself lost to the cause. ok...not entirely lost, more like temporarily on detour. i used to say that patience is a virtue i do not possess. i believe that i am slowly creeping towards the goal of patience. i suppose much of this rambling spills from a place in my heart that longs for solitude and companionship. can these two characteristics have a symbyotic relationship? i believe so. i have to believe so. my life, my very existence deponds on this conclusion. for the Lord says that when i am alone, He is there...He will never leave me nor forsake me. do i trust Him? do i choose to wait for Him? i had better...this decision is the one thing that can make me closer or push me farther away. it is an easy one. easy. easy easy. why the catch in my throat? why the hesitation? do i feel that to give this piece of me defines what my future will look like and that He will become my soul companion with no one else to augment my situation? how would i feel about that? He gives me answers...yes. are they what i want to hear? not always...therefore, logical conclusion is that i continuously avoid, whether by choice or by nature, the thing that i invariably dread...loneliness. at least in the tangible sense. but loneliness can never occur for me, at least not true loneliness because i am cleansed by the blood of the Lamb and am therefore sanctified and always holy to approach the throne of grace and power. loneliness is a human condition; meaning...it only occurs within the confines of my flesh. interesting...i only experience true loneliness when i live in the flesh and not within the confines of the Spirit, which is a mandate given to us. i will live in the Spirit and not in the flesh. loneliness does not and cannot define me. i dwell in the shadow of the King...in the way of the Almighty. i chose to find shelter in His wings and wait upon the Lord.

blood

so...i know i did not write the following...credit can only be given to a friend and colleague of mine, SSgt Scott Costner, but i thought all of you back home should read this (forgive me SSgt Costner, i did edit a few things):


I met a special operations soldier in the hospital this week named Joshua. He only stayed for 3 days before he was flown out. Joshua was in his early-to-mid 30's and the mission he was faced with was pretty much a suicide mission; nonetheless, he was willing to do it. As the highest ranking member and most knowledgeable in this type of combat, he was placed in charge of his team which consisted of about 12 other troops. His commander told him about the upcoming mission in advance but he told Joshua that he had to "carry this information around with him until it got closer to the date when it would all be executed." A couple days before the mission, Joshua notified his troops. They were able to go to an old building, pop open their MRE's (meals ready to eat), and discuss the events to come. Some of his troops had a hard time dealing with the realization of this mission but conceded to it being carried out. Knowing what this mission might come to, Joshua became very stressed and started suffering from a disorder called hemohidrosis. Hemohidrosis is a disease, brought on by stress, where the capillaries around your sweat pours become weak and leak blood into your sweat. Still, Joshua pressed forward for the mission.
The mission involved him "getting caught" by the enemy and becoming a POW (prisoner of war) in order to infiltrate the prison camp and try to save the other prisoners. the number of prisoners was unknown at the time. His troops were to stay close by and try to retrieve as many soldiers as possible by implementing the strategies Joshua taught them. Fortunately, they didn't have to "get caught" by the enemy. The mission was a success, but the injuries Joshua sustained almost made his
anatomical structures unrecognizable. Once he "got caught" by the enemy they began to interrogate him and relentlessly beat him.
For months, Joshua and his troops were in the field. This time away from normal facilities caused Joshua to have a thick beard. Apparently, in this culture, beards are of religious significance: to try to appear more like Muhammad. So, since Joshua and his captures had different religious beliefs, they ripped his beard off with their bare hands. He said that they also tore off his uniform and forced him to wear one of theirs. They also gave him a stick of some sort, only to later use that
same stick against him during the interrogation. Luckily, they didn't fracture his skull, but he suffered numerous brain contusions (from the blows to the head) which caused an unsafe increase in his ICP's (intracranial pressures) due to the swelling of the brain. At that point he was very weak and could only say a few words at a time. The enemy knew that he was special forces because of his patches so they took
every opportunity to spit on him, beat him, etc.. He said they even went as far as to put a turban on him! He said that it "felt like there were razors inside the turban," but he wasn't sure because of all the cuts that were already on his head and forehead, "it may have just been that painful to slide on." I personally couldn't make out what the origin of all the cuts were from because there was just too many to inspect: different sizes, shapes, and depths. He mentioned that he couldn't really see because of all the blood on his face and the fact that he went in and out of consciousness a few times. The rest of his body was severely battered as well: mostly his back. Joshua mentioned that he "guessed they didn't want him to see them so they turned him around." They hit him with what seem to be a plethora of different weapons that completely shredded his back, sides, and neck. This went on for a while but eventually they let up, put his uniform back on him, and marched him
outside in front of all the others. They placed his ruck-sack on his back and had Joshua walk around before they tied him up.
During the "walk" Joshua said that he was able to gain the coordinates he needed and he saw where the prisoners in need were located. This information gave him more strength to endure. They used the equipment from his ruck-sack to tie him up. During this process they managed to dislocate both of his shoulders and both if his elbows due to the stretching. This left his chest fully expanded and in a position that didn't allow him to take deep breaths or exhale completely. Eventually he became hypoxic (lack of oxygen), respiratory acidosis (increase in carbon dioxide in the lungs)set in, and becoming hypovolemic (large amount of blood loss) was just another one of his subsequent injuries. Due to the low volume of blood, the kidneys could
not compensate for any of the issues at hand. Due to the shallow breaths he had to take, small areas of each lung began to collapse. Because of this, fluid began to fill around his lungs and heart. Due to the fluid build-up in the pericardium (sac protecting the heart), the heart began to beat faster to try and pump blood through the body. This squeezing pressure the fluid placed on the heart enabled the heart to adequately circulate the blood. All of this eventually suffocated Joshua. So, if you were to try and put a chest tube in him or if you were to puncture his chest-wall, you would get a water-like return with blood mixed in. Joshua passed away due to a slow, painful suffocation and a severe MI (heart attack).
I know I said that I "met" with Joshua this week at the hospital--that is true. I met Him at the communion table. Matthew (NIV) chapter 26 verses 27 & 28 states, "He took the cup,gave thanks and offered it to them, saying, 'drink from it, all of you.This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.'" Luke (NIV) chapter 22 verse 19 states, "he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, 'this is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.'"
I have seen enough blood and death to last 2 lifetimes. I have seen traumas that I can't begin to describe or articulate. But even the worst traumas could be recognized as a human being. Isaiah 52:14 says that "His appearance was so disfigured beyond that of any man, and his form marred beyond human likeness."


no matter how many traumas i face. there is nothing to the reality of the death of Jesus of nazareth upon that crucial cross. currently i have had the grave pleasure of reading Watchman Nee's classic 'a normal christian life'. i have come to the conclusion that this conundrum does not and cannot exist. to be normal and chrisitain cannot be symbiotic. the life of a christ-like individual must be lived with boldness and compassion, dwelling constantly in the innate satisfaction that the spilling of His blood has brought upon us. he calls us to live a life worthy of this spilling, worthy of this outpouring of love. with the sacrifice of his body, Jesus proclaimed his undying obedience to the Father and his ultra-faithful love to his flock. be worthy of that love, as all of you continuely demonstrate, because he does not ask us to approach the thrown in our flesh, but bathed in the likeness of his resurrection. we are allowed to approach the thrown with grace. grab onto that grace like you have never done before. bath yourself in the blood if you have not already. and if you have, rest in the assurance of his utmost sacrifice.

redeemed.

i know...its been too long. its been difficult to make myself write. there is this roadblock i am encountering. it is not a big one and it is really not that difficult to overcome. it is something that we each deal with on a daily basis and something that i believe civilians think we (the military) have mastered...its called self-discipline and i am terrible at it. this is a reason i may never retire in the US military. i continue to speak words of encouragement over my life concerning it...i am a tenacious, bright young woman who finishes the tasks she begins and continues to press forth toward the goal that Christ has called her towards. i do not give up, despairing over what may have been, but instead push past that which was and concentrate on that which will be. i am called to a life of joy and abundance. a life filled with grace and love. i am set apart for the things of the Father. i forget that i do not belong to myself. i forget that i am called to higher things. i forget that i am not designed for complacency and politics. i am a woman with a mission. i am someone who is wholly and completely satisfied in the arms of the Father. o, Jesus...call us to things which call the nations to your throne. remove us from the selfish...from the antiquated...call us to the things that are everlasting. bring us forth...pursue us. rescue us. Lord, we are bathed in the blood...we have hung on the cross. we have been tortured and we have been redeemed. refine. renew. and reward. show us your face. we want to see what you look like. we want to bathed in your glory. i am redeemed.

surreal

written 22 December 2009.

i shall try to describe encountering this war. i admit my inability to justly give an accurate accounting of life here, but it will never suffice. personal, experiential knowledge is the only way to fully understand this thing called war. flying into a war zone involves wearing ice gear, complete with kevlar plates and helmet. no one speaks. lights are turned to green. the loud purr of the engines is the only thing heard as wheels touch tarmac, reminding that it will take another week to go home, and that is no option. every building surrounded in concrete. fortified. bleakly waiting for imminent attack to prove their insidious worth. multiple mraps cross my path on a daily basis, in addition to hmmvvs and various other military vehicles. all painted in a lifeless color that eludes to crushed bones and dust. i shoulder my weapon and its appropriate ammunition to every destination. planes and helos fly overhead all day, and all night. roaring engines breaking through the desert silence, reminding us of life outside the wire. dust covers everything, which is better than the mud that is sure to come. i attempt to obtain a routine, my only surviving chance at normalcy. and the only word to describe these past few days is surreal. there is no other word.

arrival

so. i have arrived at my final destination. i found my room. (which, by the way, i will refer to from here on out as a choo, like jimmie choos) i lost my key. the first night. i desperately need my gorilla (my fifty pound foot locker that i sent ahead of time) and i can barely turn around in the showers. o, the advantages of height. but god is good. all the time. i have arrived safely and in one piece. i am anxious to see how things continue from here on out. i may conduct an experiment in which i run everywhere instead of walk. i have a very large blister on my heel that requires some tlc first, but i will make it. i bought a holster for my gun. its imprinted leather. i think its nice. i got a good price after i bartered with the gentleman at the concessionaire stand. i am so tired and exhausted i have no more profound thoughts left for the day. i do believe this is the worst post i have ever written.

barrenness

originally written 19 December 2009.

arrived in al udeid a la midnight. flew from leipzig, germany to qatar. amazing how germany looked exactly like the southern plains of minnesota, complete with snow drifting and seven-degree weather. explains quite a bit about why my ancestors settled where they did.

we passed over baghdad. the countryside steeped in midnight. golden towers of flickering flames spurted out of the ground every few miles from the oil refineries. the land appeared as the ocean—dark and forboding. it was beautiful. the clouds, black as coal, caressed our aircraft as we soared over this barren land of sand and stone. this country is desolate and its people need jesus.

my heart lay heavy with this as the lord prompted me to pray and intercede. i prayed for open hearts and minds. ripe for the harvest. i asked the lord to give words. i asked for wisdom and understanding (ephesians 1). i asked for wisdom and revelation. give me the words, lord. show me your glory. show your glory to these people who are so desperate for love. desperate for unconditional acceptance. show them they need a savior. use me. show them that you are the savior they need. use me, jesus.

we landed with fine reception and all 150 of us disembarked from the plane’s belly, similar to a large monster losing its dinner. we were tired and haggard. we immigrated to qatar and traveled through a variety of stations. ice (individual combat equipment) gear. bag reallocation. customs. lodging. linen. finally, after an arduous seven hours, i took a shower and fell into bed exhausted.

now…i wait for a plane to take me into iraq. into a swollen abyss. anticipating the need for mercy and hope. everything is covered in dust…even the sun is veiled in a fine powder that never seems to dissipate. lord, unveil your glory in this place. unveil the son.