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The phone call woke me from a sound sleep. I was a bit disoriented and I had no idea what time it was. A call in the night is never good, so my heart was racing a bit. The caller ID and the voice didn’t match and it took just another moment for my brain to figure out it was my friend’s husband, calling from her phone. This couple happens to be homeless and they were currently living, separately, at the Mission downtown—she in the women’s unit, he in the men’s. Why would he be calling? From her phone? He started to speak and then interrupted himself, “I guess I should start with good morning.” Good morning? What time was it?! “Do you happen to be in Sioux Falls?” he continued. Sharper than I intended, I responded, “What time is it?” “Six o’clock,” was his response. Half laughing, half irritated, I shot back, “It’s six o’clock on a Saturday morning . . . No, I am not in Sioux Falls. I am sleeping!” What he said next cleared some of the sleepy haze from my mind. He went on to say that my friend had been in the emergency room, and she had been diagnosed with strep and pneumonia. They had been discharged from the ER around three in the morning, and they had slept in a drainage ditch behind the Sanford Hospital bus. As so many times before, their predicaments seemed almost unbelievable, beyond my comprehension. A remnant of the old me was creeping in, wondering if they had just been drinking? If they had gotten themselves into some kind of trouble? Kicked out of the Mission . . . again? I mean, do strep and pneumonia even go together?! And what was I to do about it? In my groggy state, the new me wrestled for control. How many times had I made quick judgments, only to discover that the crazy predicaments were absolutely real—and often completely out of their control. Compassion entered into my voice. “What can I do to help? Do you need a ride? Does she need a place to stay?” I agreed to drive to Sioux Falls to see what I could do. As I informed my still groggy husband, we agreed (with some lingering skepticism) that I would go assess what was “really going on” and then make a decision about what to do next. What was “really going on” was exactly what my friend’s husband had described. I found them near 19th and Walts. The husband was waving me down from a retaining wall, my friend was asleep . . . in a drainage ditch. He gently roused her and she rose unsteadily to her feet, literally staggering to my car. As she crawled in, I could see the cotton ball peeking out from under the band aid on her forearm. I could see the hospital ID bracelet around her wrist. I later would see the discharge papers: strep . . . AND pneumonia! As we gathered a few of her things at the Mission, the lady in charge commented, “Well at least they didn’t discharge you in the middle of the night!” To which my friend responded, “They did.” “They always do that!” was this seasoned shelter worker’s response. Everything I had heard in that early morning call was true. And I learned even more, later, from my friend. Her husband had been working at his new job at Popeye’s when he got a call from his wife’s phone, from someone who wasn’t his wife. A call from one of her friends at the Mission, informing him his wife was being taken by ambulance to the ER. He had told his boss he had to go and, not having a car, he RAN from the southeast corner of Sioux Falls to the hospital in the heart of the city—nearly four miles! When they were discharged in the middle of the night, she had not had the strength—or the lung capacity!—to walk to the Mission. No buses were running until 8:45am on a Saturday morning. So, as they slept on a concrete slab, he lay next to her as a human blanket to try and keep her warm as she shivered in a feverish state. She had told him he couldn’t “bother me” in the middle of the night. But by 6am, as she lay sleeping, he used her phone to reach out to the only person he could think of who might be willing to help. And, I am ashamed to admit, that person had almost written their “crazy predicament” off as a story, a ploy to help him get his intoxicated wife back to the shelter. That person had almost let her judgmental, old self miss out on getting to be “Jesus in the skin” to a couple who needs a hand up…not more judgment. Luckily, my new self realized that what God had planned for my day was far better than the boating outing my husband and I had planned . . . for our anniversary. I realized that if my daughter had strep and was sleeping in a drainage ditch, I would hope someone would bring her home, put her in a comfortable bed, and feed her chicken soup. And so, the comfortable plans I had for the day were quickly replaced with something far less “comfortable.” And yet, I feel as I brought her chicken soup in bed, she wasn’t the only one who was healing. So, if you see people sleeping in a ditch in the wee hours of the morning . . . don’t just assume they’re passed out, drunk. They might be! But they might not . . . If you have an employee, who is “rough around the edges” and runs out early on a Friday night shift with some cockamamie story about his wife being taken to the hospital . . . don’t just assume he got a better offer, had a party he needed to get to. He might have! But maybe not . . . In walking with people through the hardest seasons of their lives, I am learning that so much of what I thought I knew—so many judgments I can so quickly make—aren’t even close to the truth. My friend’s husband has had to “run off” or miss work more than once because of the “crazy predicaments” that come up in their world. A world I realize now that I have denied and tried to seal myself off from. A world that I had known little to nothing about. This man may lose his job because he has had to respond to situations that we may simply never be able to really understand. Rather than being lazy or irresponsible or selfish, he may actually be a hardworking, devoted, sacrificial husband whose world just looks a little different than yours or mine. So next time you think to yourself, “Why don’t they just get a job?!” maybe there are parts of the story you just don’t know about. I know this couple—not everything about them, for sure—but I do know them. And I see two scenarios unfolding . . . A boss, a society, that fires him because of assumptions and lack of understanding. He loses his job. Fails to earn the money they need to get their own apartment. And, the part I haven’t told you yet, they have three children—who they LOVE —that are in the custody of CPS. Three children they stand to lose if they don’t get their own apartment. In this scenario, the stereotype, and perhaps even his own image of himself, is reinforced. He is a screw-up, worthless, irredeemable. Or . . . A boss, a society, that gives him one more chance . Maybe even an “undeserved” chance. He keeps his job. Earns the money to get their own apartment. Those three beautiful children—who they LOVE —return to the home God intended for them in the first place. A scenario where the stereotype, and perhaps even his own image of himself, is replaced with a new identity . . . in Christ . He is loved, he is precious, he is worthy—he is redeemed ! So, which scenario will we choose to be a player in? As Christians, I hope we choose the latter. Because, after all, isn’t that what Christ has done for us? Given us one more chance . Maybe even an “undeserved” chance. That is unconditional love and grace. If Christ lives in us, we will find ourselves offering more and more of that. And what kind of world could that be . . . ? “Speak and act as those who are going to be judged by the law that gives freedom, because judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful. Mercy triumphs over judgment.” James 2:12-13 NIV “Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.” Matthew 5:7 NIV “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters.” 1 John 3:16 NIV

So often, drugs and alcohol are used to numb the pain. There has been so much hurt—both physical and emotional, from the time they were very small—that they have had to find a way to deal with it. And drugs and alcohol are often their coping mechanism. So, when I meet them in the jail, they are sober—perhaps for the first time in a long time. And I see the struggle. The struggle to deal with the things that have been done to them . . . the things they have done to others. Especially pain they may have caused the ones they love the most—their families, their spouses, their children . . . And it is a tremendous struggle. The pain is raw and the tears are real. They are having to face things they have shoved down, covered up, numbed over. As my husband and I were discussing this one day, he made the simple comment, “The edges are sharp.” How true it is. Like anesthetic that numbs the pain of the surgeon’s scalpel, drugs and alcohol have numbed the pain of all the injustice life has delivered to them, as well as the consequences of their own poor choices. Now, they are undergoing surgery of the soul . . . with no anesthetic. It is so hard to watch. Yet, it is in this place where God often meets them . . . where they meet God. They find the gift of forgiveness—for others, for themselves. They find peace. A glimmer of hope. Even joy! So, when they leave the jail, they leave the walls that we may see as confining but that some of them have found to be comforting. In that place their needs are met, their responsibilities are removed, they can simply rest and . . . be. They can spend hours in the Word, in prayer, in fellowship. And so, when they leave that place and face the world once again, the onslaught ensues. They need to find a home, find a job, take care of children, face past relationships. They must get a license, get a car, make supper, do dishes, do laundry, help with homework, pay bills. Often alone. The people they used to do life with would bring triggers and temptations, reminders of who they were. The people who they should do life with often will not receive them, because of who they were. And so, they struggle, alone. This is where their newfound faith is tested. Will they continue to follow God? Or slide back into the life they just left. This is where the church is tested. Will we extend mercy and grace? Or more judgment and condemnation. This is where we are given the opportunity to give and to receive true unconditional love. This is where we have the chance to look like Christ to a watching world. Will we welcome the prostitute and the tax collector? Or will we “pray loudly from the street corners”—wearing our cross necklaces, carrying our Bibles, doling out our weekly tithe—yet failing to love at all. I fear that we can have our own addictions—to control and comfort. Our own “drugs” to soften the edges, numb the pain. Will we relinquish our control in servitude to our Lord and Master? Step out of comfort into obedient service? It will be messy. It will be painful. The edges are sharp. But then, sometimes it takes pain to get us to jump into action. The Bible forewarns that with our yes, we must pick up our cross and follow Him. He bore our pain—with nothing to numb it but the love of His Father. Dear God, may you be our comfort. The balm of Gilead, that soothes our souls. May we step willingly into the hard places you may be sending us, knowing that you will go before us. That you will never leave us or forsake us. ”If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” 1 John 1:9 NIV “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 NIV “To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people— robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’ But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’ I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”” Luke 18:9-14 NIV

I can still see her—one foot in the car, one foot out. It was such a hot day and the heat coming in battled the cool from the air conditioner. It wasn’t the only battle going on. Things had gotten heated before the door was ever opened and her instinct was . . . run! It had become clear that she had no idea how to handle conflict and time and again—in our relationship and probably every other one in her life—she just avoided conflict all together. Run. Even if it meant giving up the relationship.   But then, that’s what everyone else had done in her life. Her mother had abandoned her at the age of three. Her father had never been there. Family had brought dysfunction and abuse. Friends had stayed only as long as there was something in it for them. So, the fact that only one foot was out of the car, I considered a win.   I was proud of her really, she was staying. She was saying some of the things that were on her heart. She was fighting for this relationship. I wanted desperately for her to know that I wasn’t going anywhere. That I would stay. Even as she said things that were hurtful and, sometimes, mean-spirited, I stayed. And, honestly, I probably needed to hear some of those “hurtful” things she had to say. I thank God that he has put women in my life who have been brave enough to be honest with me. She wasn’t the only one who needed to change.   I think the comments she hurled were something like, “Oh, sure, Kaia! You’re right. You’re always right. White is right and I’m just a messed-up Indian. You make me feel like such a project. I know it makes you feel good to “help poor me” but, honestly, you just make me feel like s**t!!”   Ouch! Part of me wanted to run at that point. Just put ‘er in gear and pull away. I didn’t need to sit there and take such abuse! But . . . maybe I did. Thank God, he had been working on that whole humility thing. On that vulnerability thing. On that you’re not really perfect yourself, Kaia, thing. I stayed. I cried . . . we cried. But we laid some things on the table that really needed to be looked at.   She was right. It was true—and we have to get to a place where we can admit it. In many ways, I did consider her a project. And it did make me feel good to “help.” I thought I was better and that I could fix her. What I was coming to realize was that I  was not better, but Christ was better. That she didn’t need me or my wisdom. She needed God and his wisdom. She wasn’t my project. She was my friend. But, somehow, without realizing it, my “helping” was actually hurting.   In another conversation, same friend (we have had a few heart-to-hearts along the way!), it was my turn to vent some frustrations. I wish we could all be mature enough to discuss the hard things without the heat of emotion, but so often that is when the hard truths come to light. I don’t remember the straw that broke the camel’s back but, once again, she was calling . . . only because she needed something. It seemed like that was the only time she ever initiated in the relationship—when she needed something. I tried to show grace. I tried to show unconditional love. I tried to remember my trauma training—that because of her background she operated in survival mode. She had a lifetime’s experience of “using” people, because that was how she had made it this far. But, that day, it just sort of came out.    “You know how you said it feels like I treat you like a project? Well, some days I just feel like a pawn. Somebody you can just take advantage of. You only call when you need something. It feels like you ignore me in between. Do you even like me? Are we friends? Or am I just a taxi service and hand-out?” Even as I said it, I wished I could take it back. But then, maybe it was something that she needed to hear. Maybe, like me, she needed someone in her life who would speak truth, be honest about things. I am pretty sure we both cried again that time. I thank God for the gift of tears. It isn’t lost on me that we are the only thing in his creation that cries. But in those most vulnerable of moments, when hard truths were shared, in the tenuous balance between fight or flight . . . I think tears kept us both in the game. I think tears revealed the deep love we had for each other. That our relationship was worth fighting for. And so, we stayed. We talked though this struggle, of being project or pawn. Where did we go from here? What did we need to do? How did we move on? How did we get beyond this, now obvious, hurdle in our relationship?    We haven’t gotten it figured out yet. I wish I had more to share on that. Maybe someday, down the road. But then, maybe just seeing the hurdle is the first step. The willingness to overcome, together. To figure out how to get over it or around it, together. I think staying is the first step. Because the easy thing is to run. But the best things in life are never easy.   “If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt from them.” Luke 6:29 NIV   “Therefore I endure everything for the sake of the elect, that they too may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus, with eternal glory.” 2 Timothy 2:10 NIV   “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 NIV

It was a program for delinquent youth—kids who struggled in school, who struggled with rules, authority, and relationships. They just struggled. Rather than throwing them in juvie, they would get an ankle monitor and report to the program every day after school. The youth lived life together with healthy supervision. They would shop and prepare meals for supper, work on homework, find constructive outlets, and perform community service together. They came to our mentoring program at HorsePower once a week, where they helped with chores around the barn and then got to spend one-on-one time with a Christian mentor and a horse.   The worker that brought them was amazing. She was so good with the kids. You could tell they just loved her—but she also had their respect. I realized she could be a valuable resource. After all, I didn’t know what I didn’t know! I asked if she would be willing to meet for coffee. I would learn a lot from her . . .   We started by sharing a little bit about ourselves. I admitted that I was at a bit of a disadvantage because I did not come from "hard." I had been blessed with a loving and supportive family, even if far from perfect. And I always had everything I needed, even if I struggled with defining wants and needs. I told her that I wanted to learn and understand more. As I finished my little litany, her response was complimentary—but not. She said, “It’s so refreshing to see someone who wants to actually live out what they believe!”   It caught me off guard and really made me think. It was kind of a compliment to me—this  new  me. Yet a harsh indictment of the  old  me—the not-too-far-in-the-past me—the me that still seemed to keep cropping up more often than I would like. It was a harsh indictment from her on the church. And I don’t think she meant just Christians. How many profess a faith or a religion yet fail to really practice what it preaches?   She went on to share a little bit about her background. She was half white, half Native American. Her father was Catholic and had gone to do mission work on one of the reservations. He ended up getting her mother, a young woman from the tribe, pregnant. He did not marry her or stay on the reservation. He took the child from her mother back to his home in New York. She had been raised, brown-skinned yet freckled, in an all-white community. She would spend time on the reservation in the summers and stood out in that world, too. She bridged two cultures, sadly not knowing to which she really "belonged." Her father and his family professed the Catholic faith, while her mother and her family still practiced some Native American traditions and rituals. As for her, she seemed disinclined to affiliate with either. "Religion" hadn’t served her well.   On the reservation, she would hear stories of how her parents and grandparents had been ripped from their families and sent to boarding schools. Far too many of them would be emotionally, physically, and sexually abused by priests and nuns, supposed ambassadors of Christ. They were punished for speaking their native language or practicing their native religion. It's hard to imagine how this won very many true converts . . .   She shared some insights into the native culture, telling a story of visiting the reservation and spending time with her grandmother. She went on to say that her grandma had such gray hair that it was almost white, and she wore it in this crazy hairdo. As an inquisitive young child, she found herself staring at that white hair worked up into an ornate, messy bun. Her grandma proceeded to, quite literally, poke her in the eyes! In Native culture, it was disrespectful to stare at an elder. You showed respect by lowering your eyes in submission to their authority. She didn’t stare at her grandmother’s hair after that—or any elder.   It was thought-provoking because I had just been wondering if she was even interested in what I had to say because she seldom looked at me as I spoke! And it explained so much about many of the kids we worked with. I thought you were  expected  to look your elders in the eye as they spoke to you as a sign of respect or attention. So, what I had perceived as disinterest, or even rebellion, in the young Native Americans that had come to the mentoring program at HorsePower was likely just the opposite!   This was such an  aha  moment. It served almost as a key, unlocking the realization that we must be careful not to make assumptions about what others are feeling or thinking. Truly, each of us has a pair of glasses through which we see the world. The lens is shaped by our culture, upbringing, personality, experiences, beliefs. I realized that this eye contact was just one of many different things that I probably misunderstood about these kiddos because we had such different lenses through which we viewed the world.   She told me how hard it was for these kids she was bringing to trust "nice." On their way out to HorsePower, she would tell the new kids, “Now, when we get to the barn, these ladies are going to be really nice. And they really are nice! You can trust them.” She went on to tell me that, in their young lives, the only people that were nice to them wanted something in return. They had no idea of genuine kindness! It was unfathomable to me. Again, such a different lens.   I don't know if we can ever really take off our glasses, but the realization that we need to try to see through the eyes of others once in a while was such an eye-opener for me (pun intended!). I want new glasses, maybe like those transition lenses that change as you move from sunlight to indoors—glasses that would help me understand the people I am sent to. Not to shift truth but to understand what someone else might perceive through their lens. Just as the Apostle Paul became “all things to all people . . . [to] save some,” I want to be more understanding of everyone God puts me in contact with so that I might be more effective and have more spiritual impact. Maybe that’s what the Holy Spirit does for us.  Lord, give me Spirit eyes to see what human eyes can’t see .   “Whoever says, ‘I know him,’ but does not do what he commands is a liar, and the truth is not in that person. . . . Whoever claims to live in him must live as Jesus did.” 1 John 2:4, 6 NIV   “Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.” James 1:22 NIV   “The precepts of the LORD are right, giving joy to the heart. The commands of the LORD are radiant, giving light to the eyes. Psalm 19:8 NIV   “Open my eyes that I may see wonderful things in your law.” Psalm 119:18 NIV   “I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe.” Ephesians 1:18–19 NIV   “I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some.” 1 Corinthians 9:22 NIV

So, it looked like it was time. Time for Chrysalis. God had brought down manna and quail so I could take the steps necessary to form Chrysalis. And I could do it without worrying about where a paycheck might come from. Without worrying about pleasing a boss or a board. Without trying to meet anyone’s expectations. Just chasing after God with all my heart. I began to dream about what it could look like, what it should look like. What kept coming to mind was, well, everything. I envisioned a home where the women could live safely in a nurturing and supportive environment. A workplace where they could have gainful employment while still being loved and encouraged. And a barn where horses could be used to help bring healing. A place to live, a place to work, a place to heal. I was meeting with people, looking into potential real estate, telling everyone who would listen about this dream of mine. It probably took at least six months to actually receive the deferred compensation from my old job in research—the one I had quit ten years earlier. My husband and I walked in faith that we had heard God right. Even as our credit card maxed out and our ready reserve that was attached to our banking account dwindled until it only had about $100 left in it (defying everything Dave Ramsey had taught us!), we walked in faith. And then it came . . . the week before everything shut down at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. The week before the doors closed to almost all my ministry opportunities. The week before I was shoved out of everything comfortable and familiar . . . once again. It was enough to cover all the debt we had incurred with enough left over to cover the next six months. So, as we all hunkered down, wondering what the future would look like and if we would ever get to go out in public without a mask again, I continued to try to hear what God was saying and to dream about what Chrysalis might look like. A board began to come together and we filed the state incorporation papers. We had just recently filed for nonprofit status, when one of the board members mentioned a co-worker, whose wife was wondering if we might be interested in applying for a grant from the community fund at her place of work? It was no small surprise that it was the same community fund God had dropped in our laps at HorsePower as one of those first unprayed answers! Coincidence? I think not. By the time the board member asked me and we got back to this woman, she had actually gone ahead and filed on our behalf—getting information from our website, which we had just completed. She just had a couple questions. She needed a project budget and she needed proof of our nonprofit status. Darn, we had only just recently filed. It would likely be months, even up to a year before we would hear. She regretfully informed us that they would not be able to consider our application. We had to have the letter from the IRS. That weekend, I received a letter in the mail . . . from the IRS!! Chrysalis had been approved as a nonprofit . . . in less than a month ! It was almost unheard of. But somehow , we got approval just in time to be considered—and ultimately awarded—a grant that we had not known about, that we had not applied for, and that we had not even been qualified for ! Signed at the bottom . . . Love, God. To God be the glory. So, with that providential gift, we were able to begin in earnest. We decided to rent houses for some of the women God had placed in my path. The first was for a family. The second was for a mother and her grown daughter—which also served as our Chrysalis headquarters, of sorts. We were about to rent a third, for a couple, when the upper management of the rental agency we had been using seemed to catch wind of what we were doing. Turns out, they didn’t rent to “those kind of people.” My heart sank. It was one of the first of many obstacles Chrysalis would face. But the biggest obstacle was probably . . . me. In the months to follow, there were some beautiful moments, to be sure. But I was definitely wrestling with the old man in me. Paul’s word in Romans 7 about the war that wages within us—flesh vs. spirit—became truth to me. “So I find this law at work: although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me.” Romans 7:21-23 NIV Rather than offering truth in love, I seemed to be focused on setting and attaining goals. Rather than providing encouragement, I was establishing curfews and consequences. Rather than extending grace, I was busy judging behavior. It wasn’t that they shouldn’t be following curfew and working towards goals . . . it was the way I was going about it, and what it was doing to me. I’m afraid I began climbing up to my pedestal, once again. And from there, to look down on these women God had sent me to love. What a wretched woman am I! Thank God for Jesus! “So I find this law at work: although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me.” Romans 7:21-23 NIV “What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!” Romans 7:24-25 NIV

I was raised to have a very strong work ethic. I had chores and responsibilities from the time I was very young. I got a job almost as soon as I was old enough. I would babysit and clean houses, I had a paper route. I got my first horse in seventh grade and was responsible for all its care—buying tack, paying vet and farrier bills, feed and board. By the time I was 16, I think I had three jobs . . . to “support my habit!” I was raised with the biblical principles, “If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat,” “Go to the ant, you sluggard,” “Whatever you do, do it heartily,” “In all toil there is profit, but mere talk tends only to poverty.” And I am grateful for that upbringing. It has served me well.   But on this journey, from Pharisee to Follower, God was teaching me new things, as well. As in so many things, it’s not always black and white—there is no formula. When you are following , the rules may change.    Homegrown or Take-Out?   For example, think of the hard work it takes to get food. There is the clearing of the land, the plowing, the planting, the weeding, the watering, the harvesting. Genesis 3 makes it pretty clear, “Cursed is the ground because of you; through painful toil you will eat food from it all the days of your life. It will produce thorns and thistles for you, and you will eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return.” And since the Fall, man has been laboring for his food.    Yet, then there is the time where God literally rained food from heaven! Exodus 16 says, “I will rain down bread from heaven for you,” “At twilight you will eat meat, and in the morning you will be filled with bread. Then you will know that I am the Lord your God.” As the Israelites were following God to the Promised Land, he provided all their needs!   So, while I am thankful for a hard, Midwestern work ethic, God has been showing me new things. As I have been following God, he has provided—in the most amazing ways!   Building on Baby Steps   Early on, I tipped my hat to God for the little ways in which he would meet our needs. The time our car broke down—when we were broke—and we got that dividend check from our utility company, from three addresses ago! The way a bonus check would come in just as it was time to fill the propane tank, and we had nothing set aside. So many little ways that God was faithful to provide. And I was thankful.   Then, as I began to follow in earnest, I began to see him in ways I would have never imagined. When I quit my job as a research scientist and CEO, our income was reduced—drastically. I had some leave time that was paid out to me, which gave us a little cushion for a while. But then, it became a walk of faith. I did not know where my next check would come from. I felt so called to begin the horse ministry, but I had no idea where a salary might come from anywhere in the near future.   We had tried to do the Dave Ramsey Financial Peace thing once before—and failed miserably. This time we had to take it seriously.  We were running on a pretty slim budget. God let us sit in that frugality long enough to develop some really healthy financial habits when he suddenly dropped a little manna and quail. Well, quite a bit of manna and quail! I received a settlement when the biomedical company we had started was sold out to a buyer. It would be enough to get by on, plus some! As I joined forces with HorsePower, the established reputation of the existing nonprofit made it much easier to raise funds for my salary. After some rough patches in the beginning, I was soon drawing a steady paycheck.    Faithful to the Faithless   When God asked me to step out in faith, once again, I entered another period of uncertainty. Like the Israelites in the desert, I was longing for the leeks and cucumbers and the pots of meat back in Egypt—the comfortable familiarity and security of a job and a paycheck, even though I had been in bondage to it! Yet, then the most unlikely thing happened. What seemed like a trial, quickly turned to blessing. Our basement flooded while we were away on vacation! But our grown children capably managed everything—from dragging everything up out of the basement to meeting the insurance guy at the house to make the claim estimate—and we returned to a physical check in our mailbox . . . for $5,000 more than we needed to make the repairs. Even though we tried to return it to the insurance company, they assured us that it was ours to keep. It was my first “paycheck” for my new assignment. Signed at the bottom, “Love , God.”   As I wandered from breadcrumb to breadcrumb—serving at this ministry, volunteering there—I was always blessed to have “enough.” My husband was a supportive and capable provider. People God had brought along on this journey were generous with their gifts of support. My church came alongside with a donation.    Even though God was faithful, there were times when I was not . . .  Sometimes, a little doubt or fear would begin to settle in. I think of Peter, walking on the water—and then looking at the waves . . . and beginning to sink.  Even as I had been walking on water—I would begin to look at the waves . . . and start to sink. When I was with a small apologetics ministry, there was such a time. We operated under the concept of deputation—each was responsible to raise their own support for their mission work out in the field. We each had a “bucket” where our gifts could be placed . . . and mine was empty. I was feeling a little desperate and like I needed to do something. Another evangelist told me about how he had been able to make some good money donating plasma. I thought, perfect! I could just use the time I spent donating plasma as my times of meditation . . . being still with the Lord. And I would be helping to save lives, I justified. I went through the entire application and screening process, only to find out I couldn’t donate. My veins weren’t big enough! The very next day , I learned there had been a $1,000 gift made in my name . . . from someone in Florida ?! I didn’t even know them. A gentle reminder that I didn’t need to worry, and I didn’t need to strive. God is great, and God is good.   Deferred Expenses   Sometimes my “income” didn’t come in the form of cash or checks, but rather in the form of deferred expenses. I drove a twenty-year-old car with more than 250,000 miles on it. The check engine light and a couple others had been on for more than half of those miles. This wasn’t really a new phenomenon for my husband and I, but usually we would put black electrical tape over the warning lights so we wouldn’t have to look at them. This time, we left them lighting up the dash. It was a constant reminder of how God was looking out for us. Our mechanic got a new technician who asked if we realized our transmission was going out . . . to which he replied, “Oh, they know. It’s been that way for like 100,000 miles!” An expense that never came to be. That car kept running like the Energizer bunny. And when we sold it, God gave us more than twice what we had hoped to get for it.   Deferred Compensation   And then, there was the big kahuna. It still gives me goose bumps to share this story. I had left the Christian camp and been given the vision for a women’s ministry, Chrysalis, but I had no idea when or how. Whether it really was a season of “tent-making,” like the apostle Paul prior to receiving his support from the local churches, or out of my own doubts and fears, I was working at several part-time gigs. That small apologetics ministry—deputational, with largely an empty bucket. Another part-time job—only 10 hours a week that utilized my Ph.D. training and actually paid quite well. But it wasn’t long before I realized, while I could do it . . . I couldn’t do it. I was capable, but my heart was just not in it. And then there was yet another ministry—a small nonprofit with a mission to activate disciples. I was working half-time with them. I loved the mission and I loved the people I worked with, but it wasn’t my mission. This wasn’t my assignment.   I remember the day I realized I had to step away like it was yesterday. I had informed my boss that, as much as I believed in what they were doing, I needed to pursue the call God had placed on my  heart. I needed to pursue this ministry that would love on these women I had come to love so much. He was so gracious. He asked if I needed a little runway . . . maybe stay on, but work fewer hours . . . at least until I got the other up and going . . .? While that sounded safe and comfortable, I knew I had to say no. I remember saying, “That is so kind, but I know I have to just be done. I have to go where God is leading.  God will provide.”   I no sooner left that meeting and got to Walmart where I needed to pick up a few things, when I received a phone call. It was from the attorney that I had reached out to about forming the non-profit, Chrysalis. He was with the same firm that had handled the patents, licensing, and ultimate sale of the biomedical company we had formed, PhotoBioMed. We had been playing a bit of phone tag for a couple weeks, at least.  So, the timing was interesting . . . to say the least.   What he said next made my head start to spin . . .  He was confirming that I had worked for PhotoBioMed, and he was asking, “Do you have deferred compensation coming?” My mind had to process what that even meant – deferred compensation . . . delayed payment . . .?! I thought to myself, “Well, I hope so! I just quit my job!”   It was as though God had arranged for my salary even as I worked up the courage to step out in another bold “yes” for him! Turns out, when this guy had gone to visit with the attorney who had worked with me on the corporate side, the other attorney had made the comment, “That’s funny. I need to give her a call on some PhotoBioMed issues,” pointing to a sticky note on his desk with my name on it. Apparently, they had had a board meeting a couple days before. They wanted to talk to me about the incentive agreement I signed with them upon leaving. Long story short, ten minutes after I quit my job, saying God would provide, I found out I would be getting money from a job I had quit ten years earlier—and it would cover my salary for a year! God just kept getting bigger . . . and I was getting tiny!   Faithful to Follow   So, I am still thankful for my work ethic, and there may be times of tent-making for sure. Times where I may be asked to work so that I can provide the gospel for free. But there are also times where I will rest in him and trust in his provision. If I am following him and he asks me to step out in faith, he will provide the manna and the quail. After all, a worker is worth his wages. So, you see, the Bible is clear . . .  that it is unclear.  Sometimes we must work.  Sometimes we must trust.  Always, we must follow.   “Cursed is the ground because of you; through painful toil you will eat food from it all the days of your life.” Genesis 3:17b NIV     “I have heard the grumbling of the Israelites. Tell them, ‘At twilight you will eat meat, and in the morning you will be filled with bread. Then you will know that I am the Lord your God.’” Exodus 16:12 NIV   “We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost—also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic.” Numbers 11:5 NIV   “And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:19 NIV     “So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ . . .  But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” Matthew 6:31,33 NIV

While I had peace in this season of advent—another period of waiting, expectantly—I couldn’t help but wonder . . . what was next? I trusted the Lord to show up. I trusted there was a Master plan. I just doubted my role in it. And my ability to hear him . . . It was perhaps a couple months after parting ways with the church camp that I had a very restless night. I couldn’t fall asleep, my mind just kept going and going. I was thinking of this breadcrumb trail he had led me down. I was thinking about how God’s plan often looked different in the rearview mirror than it had when I started down that stretch of the trail. The breadcrumbs were still clearly from God, but what I thought would happen in between the breadcrumbs was often different than what God did between the breadcrumbs. His plan was always better than mine. I found myself thinking of the amazing women God had placed in my life. Women from every walk . . . but some of my dear friends, now, were women I may not have even said hi to in my old life. I lay awake in my bed marveling at how God transformed people. We are made new creations . . . the old is gone, the new has come. So often, I would remind the gals in the jail of that. Romans 12:2 was a favorite go-to verse, “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” Just as I had encouraged those young girls that summer so many years before, driving home, hot and sweaty with the faint smell of leather and horse . . . “Your life could be different.” But back then, my emphasis had been on them making good choices. On their behavior . God had brought me a long way. Now my emphasis was on accepting and knowing God! This verse would come up often, and along with it the analogy of a butterfly. How the caterpillar goes into its cocoon and comes out completely new! It was such a beautiful image. I just pictured these women in their stripes in the jail, emerging with new wings and taking flight. But, so often, it seemed they were struggling to fly . . . Women would come into the jail and they would go, only to return again . . . and again . . . and again. This cycle seemed relentless, and I felt powerless to help. Even as they found Jesus and his amazing grace and hope, they seemed stuck in the cycle. As I began to walk with these women more on the outside, I began to see their struggle firsthand. Life was hard! They faced so many challenges and didn’t have a healthy support system to help them navigate them. It was so hard to watch! I just wanted to put them in a bubble. As I lay there that night, pondering all this, it occurred to me that while I may have been dismissed from the camp, perhaps I had not been “fired” from this calling! The Bunkhouse had been a concept we had come up with at the camp to provide some longer-term support for these women I was walking with. A safe place to be nurtured and guided and loved . . . a place to be transformed! Perhaps I was to continue to pursue that concept? Romans 12:2 and the image of the butterfly kept rolling through my mind. It was like the Lord was showing me all the things I had learned in my time at the camp—even if very little of it had to do with the camp!—and how all of that could still be put towards helping these women. Chrysalis. We would call it Chrysalis. I didn’t realize this at one o’clock in the morning, but moths transform in a cocoon. For butterflies, the proper term is chrysalis. Chrysalis. I didn’t even know how to spell it. By two o’clock I was up on my computer, googling chrysalis . . . caterpillars . . . butterflies . . . I found myself googling information about their eyes. What was it about their eyes? I learned that a caterpillar, which technically has 12 eyes, is virtually blind—essentially only able to perceive light vs. dark, with very little depth perception. If you see a caterpillar rear up and seem to wave around a bit, they are gauging their position, determining if it is safe to make that next move. When they emerge from the chrysalis, they have 12,000 eyes! Eyes that see light even the human eye can’t see. And they process images far faster, so they can safely maneuver as they fly. How cool is that?! And how true for us, as well . . . Before Christ, we are virtually blind—barely able to distinguish darkness from the light. But after our transformation, the blind can see! We are given spiritual eyes, eyes that can see what human eyes can’t see. I was still wide awake, my mind continuing to race. Pieces of the puzzle flashing before my new eyes. Seemingly unrelated events and experiences that were coming together, as only God could orchestrate. The vision seemed big! But then, he is a big God . . . And so, the concept of Chrysalis was birthed. I didn’t know how, and I didn’t know when. But I continued to wait . . . expectantly. “For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.” Romans 7:18b-19 NIV “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” 2 Corinthians 5:17 NIV “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.” Romans 12:2 NIV

To the Board, I have had some time to reflect on the events that have unfolded, and I just wanted to say a few words in parting. First, even though we have not had much of a chance to really get to know one another, I hope that each of you knows that I have always been passionate about the camp and what I believe God wants to do there. And I hope that each of you knows that I believe that all of us—the entire board, the staff, and myself—were al l called to be here, for this time. And so this has been difficult. Confusing . . . And in my reflections over this past week or so, and with the help of some amazing friends who have helped me to see past my own hurt or feelings of rejection, I have come to some powerful insights that I wanted to share. As you know, I have felt so confident that I was following God, doing his will. I was seeing him all the time and stood in awe at the amazing things that only he could orchestrate. I couldn't help but tell everyone all that I had seen and heard! I was so sure that he had led me here and that he was prepared to do a mighty work. But I'm afraid I had written my own ending to the story. It occurred to me, the disciples were literally following Jesus. They were seeing him at work all the time, doing the amazing things that no one else had ever done before. They couldn't help but share all that they had seen and heard. They were so sure that this was the Messiah, that he had come to redeem Israel! But they had written their own ending to the story as well. So, when I was informed that it had been decided to “terminate our relationship,” I was simply stunned. I felt like the disciples must have felt as they saw their Messiah hung on a cross. As they sat behind locked doors wondering what had just happened and what were they supposed to do now . . . I, too, have been sitting, pondering, wondering what just happened and what am I supposed to do now. And yet, in that Easter story, Jesus shows up in that locked room. He had a different ending to the story! A much grander one! More than the disciples could have ever asked or imagined. He would indeed redeem Israel—not only from Roman opposition, but from their sin! Cleansing them so that all who believe may have eternal life in the presence of a holy God. And so, I walk in trust. God will show up. He has the real ending to the story. And I trust that it is more than we could ever ask or imagine. What I have been reminded of in this confusing time is that God is good, he is sovereign, he is faithful. Who am I to question this “bump in the road”?! I will continue to follow where he leads, and whether this trail eventually leads back to this camp or if our paths diverge and we go our separate ways, I trust that he will lead us to a glorious destination. More than we could ever ask or imagine! And so, I wait expectantly. In this season of advent, I once again wait expectantly for Jesus to make a way! Thank you for the faith you showed in providing for my position as long as you did. I have grown so much and learned so much as I have been allowed to follow the leading of the Holy Spirit. I hope that I, in some way, have contributed to the mission of this place as well. I pray that the board retreat went well, that God gave you clarity and direction, and that you have peace as you move forward on this journey. May God go with you and bless you! In Christ's service, Kaia “And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?” Esther 4:14b NIV “(They still did not understand from Scripture that Jesus had to rise from the dead.)” John 20:9 NIV “On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!”” John 20:19 NIV

I had recently presented to the board of a ministry I was working for regarding the grand vision for the ministry we appeared called to—not just the programs and the facilities, but how God inspired the vision and had been leading us all along the way. I shared that, as eager as we may be to “get this thing done,” we needed to continue to be patient with the Lord’s timing. While I knew it seemed reasonable and practical to do the traditional fundraising schemes to raise the funds—hire a development director, send out mass mail appeals, have benefit dinners and silent auctions—I shared that I felt that God had clearly been telling me all along that he had this one. That he wanted to do this in a way that would bring glory to him alone. That if we were patient, he would bring the funding in his way and in his time. I shared how much I had seen him accomplish throughout this time of apparent “waiting.” I shared the story of Sarah and Abraham and warned against premature actions or striving on our part. We might accomplish the goal of raising the funds, but I feared we would not get the ministry God had envisioned if we got in the way too much.   A couple days later, in those early morning hours, I could see an image in my mind’s eye. It was a torso with a blue polo shirt on . . . stretched over a life jacket . . . all buttoned up. A tight, stretched, bulky polo all buttoned up tight. As the image sort of panned out, I could see it was a staff shirt for the ministry, blue with white on the sleeves and the logo on the front.   As so often before, upon awakening, I instantly realized what it represented. While many Christians may have Jesus as their Savior, thus the lifejacket, they fail to live out their faith in a way that gives him the glory. Rather, they hide it under their own strivings and accomplishments. Whether it is arrogance or lack of trust or lack of belief, we tend to want to operate in our own strength rather than letting God show up and show off. I believe the vision represented that people would see a well-run, sensible organization (the polo shirt) rather than a mighty God and Savior (the life jacket). The verse, “And he did not do many miracles there because of their lack of faith”  came to me. What would God do if we just let him? What if we wore our life jacket on the outside?!   “All honor and glory to God forever and ever!” 1 Timothy 1:17a NIV   “So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.” 1 Corinthians 10:31 NIV   “And he did not do many miracles there because of their lack of faith.” Matthew 13:58 NIV

Well, a half million-dollar pledge will certainly get people’s attention. Suddenly, my almost covert operation at the camp became front and center. The staff and the board were taking notice, beginning to believe that perhaps this expansion of the horse program could actually come to pass. Maybe that crazy lady in the janitor’s closet was on to something! There was the good and the bad in this. I was glad to be taken somewhat seriously, but I knew I had to be careful not to let it become about me or what I could accomplish. It was great to have the board’s interest and support, but they quickly wanted to jump to conventional means of fundraising. Even as I tried to remain spiritually alert and prayerful . . . they began the process of hiring a development director. Sometimes I fear that we have Americanized ministry. That we have put common sense business practices in the place of fervent prayer and radical obedience. I’m afraid we have put God in a box. While we may hear from God, initially, we so often resort to our own capability and self-sufficiency. Present company included. So, we see a lot of well-run organizations . . . we don’t see too many miracles. I think of the verse that tells us of how Jesus failed to do many miracles in his hometown, because of their unbelief. I had fallen back to my old ways before, at HorsePower. I didn’t want another “relapse.” Oh, how I longed to let go and let God! But familiar paths are so easily followed, the ruts are deep. With barely a nod to the unsolicited, effortless gift of half a million dollars, they began to strive. At one point, as I shared with the board, I implored that they wait on the Lord and not move without God’s clear leading. I reminded them of the story of Abraham and Sarah. Impatient with God’s timing and lacking faith that he could provide a son through her, Sarah had given Abraham her handmaiden, Hagar, so that she could provide him with a son. While that union did result in a son, Ishmael, this was not the son God’s promises would come through. In time, Sarah did eventually bear a son, Isaac, through whom the promised Messiah would come. However, Ishmael’s line became a great nation, as well—one with whom the Israelites have been at war with, to this very day. Our impatience or impertinence can have serious consequences. One day, prior to a meeting with the director, the word “smote” came to my mind. What kind of word is that, anyway . . . smote? It was more than a word, but a phrase, “smote the rock.” While I kind of knew it was biblical, and I had a vague familiarity with the Old Testament story it might have come from, I had to Google the phrase. It was indeed biblical, King James version. I didn’t even have a copy of the King James version. It was the story in Numbers, chapter 20, where the people of Israel were once again complaining about having no water to drink. The Lord said to Moses and Aaron, “Speak ye unto the rock before their eyes; and it shall give forth His water.” But when Moses had gathered the people, he said, “Must we fetch you water from this rock? . . . and with his rod, he smote the rock twice.” Moses was not only disobedient, failing to do it just as God had commanded—he took the glory for himself. I shared this with the director, again, imploring him that we wait on God’s timing. That we be as obedient as possible so that HE may receive all the glory—not us! Moses and Aaron never entered the promised land. Our impatience or impertinence can have serious consequences. It would seem that they were tiring of the crazy lady in the janitor’s closet. They didn’t heed my warnings and they proceeded going about the fundraising and promotion just like any new program . . . or business . . . They failed to raise any other substantial funds for the horse ministry, other than a few small donations totaling around $5,000. They seemed oblivious to the fact that God had raised a hundredfold, with no striving. I was really struggling. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to operate the way I felt we needed to in the present environment. I didn’t know how I could stay on . . . but I didn’t feel released to go! It was a really hard time. I think I had to buy a few extra tubes of mascara, again. I would have called it holy discontent, but the call there had been so profound. I didn’t know what to do. At one point, I was so frustrated. It felt as though as soon as I started to move on something, the director would step in to take over, yet failing to make any progress himself. It reminded me of when I took my driver’s license exam—the second time. You see, I had gotten my license at fourteen (my parents got tired of driving me out to the barn to see my horse!). So, at sixteen, although I had already been driving for two years, I took Driver’s Education to get the discount on my insurance. The final driving test was a mere formality, then, since I already had my license. I was going through all the motions, easily passing each step. As we went to pull out into traffic, I may have “shot the gap” a bit. I knew I could easily slip into traffic—apparently the instructor was not quite so sure. Probably used to brand new drivers, he was worried that I wouldn’t be aggressive enough to merge into traffic. In a panic, his foot shot over to the gas pedal with the intent to gun it. In doing so, my foot was pushed off, his was not on, and we stalled out. Luckily, we did not get hit and we didn’t cause any accidents! But I did fail my exam. That’s how I felt with the horse ministry. My foot was shoved off the gas pedal, his was not on, and we were stalled out. They weren’t willing to simply pray and trust God, yet their fundraising efforts were going nowhere. We were stalled out. I thought perhaps maybe I could serve as the director of the horse ministry—collaborating with the camp and its board—while the director remained in charge of the camp itself. I would be free to respond to God the way I felt called . . . Perhaps that would get things moving? This suggestion apparently did not go over well with the director. I was met by him and a board member at our next meeting. They informed me that there were “insufficient funds” to keep me on during the upcoming budget year. I was, effectively, dismissed. I remember heart-wrenching sobs coming from deep within. Could someone be fired from a calling? I was so confused . . . “The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.” James 5:16b NIV “Now Sarai, Abram’s wife, had borne him no children. But she had an Egyptian slave named Hagar; so she said to Abram, “The Lord has kept me from having children. Go, sleep with my slave; perhaps I can build a family through her.” Abram agreed to what Sarai said.” Genesis 16:1-2 NIV ““Hear now, ye rebels; must we fetch you water out of this rock? And Moses lifted up his hand, and with his rod he smote the rock twice;” Numbers 20:10b-11a KJV “As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother’s womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things.” Ecclesiastes 11:5 NIV

In visiting with a young man in a correctional facility, he came to a point where he began to pull back the veil on some of the awful things he had done in the past. I shared that it didn’t matter to me what he had done in the past. I didn’t see him according to what he had done or who he had been, but rather I saw him for what he could be . . . what God desired for him to be. He responded with way too much wisdom for a 16-year-old, “Sometimes people like me want to tell you what we have done. It’s a test, in some ways, to see if you will still like us.”    Ouch. How many had failed the test in the past? How many people, Christians included, had written him off once they found out the things he had done? Labeled him as delinquent, troubled, dangerous, cruel . . . evil—and left him for “the system” to take care of? The walls he would have had to put up to protect his heart from that hurt had to be tall and wide.    Will we love with the love of Christ? A love that sees beyond the behaviors to the hurt beneath and the heart within? Only love can tear those walls down and God alone can heal those wounds. Yet we  are the hands and feet! "How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!" ( Romans 10:15)   May we come to love like Christ as we walk with the hurting and the broken, looking past what has been—even what is—to what could be. May we enter every encounter believing that they will be  redeemed and transformed. Sometimes we have to believe for  them, before they can believe it for themselves.    “ Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.   It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.” 1 Corinthians 13:4-5 NIV   “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8 NIV   “We love because he first loved us.” 1 John 4:19 NIV

I have spent a lot of my life in a very comfortable place. I knew that there was child abuse and neglect, I just didn’t know the child that was abused and neglected . . . or the adult they became. Sometimes you kick over a rock or a rotting log and you can see some pretty disgusting things. Slimy things, decaying things, scattering and scavenging things. Those creepy critters go running when they see the light. In these last few years, I have looked under a few rocks . . . I saw the tears run down her face as she shared the pain she felt as a two or three-year-old child, waiting in a dark house in a dark room, wondering when her mommy would come back . . . if she would come back. The foster mom told me that he had been raped so badly that he didn’t have a normal bowel movement for a year . . . he was four. When I asked what made her doubt if there was a God, she replied with tears, “I haven’t been a virgin since I was two. Every man in my life has used me and abused me. If there is a God in heaven who would forgive these men, I would rather burn in hell.” He remembers, as a little boy, being duct-taped to the floor of a closet while his mom would go out drinking . . . to keep him safe. The little girl who tried so hard to be a boy wasn’t gender confused . . . she just didn’t get raped as often if she looked like a boy. For lunch, he remembers that he and his sister would get hot dogs off the rollers at the corner gas station where his mom kept an account for them . . . or at least that’s what the clerk told them. Her school morning routine wasn’t cereal and cartoons . . . it was bringing a beer to her stepdad as he lay naked on the couch and watched pornography. He asked his mom to scratch off the serial number on his new PlayStation® so his dad wouldn’t pawn it for drinking money . . . he was nine. She refused to take a shower at the children’s home and was labeled a stubborn and rebellious child . . . turns out it had been in the shower that her mother’s many boyfriends had raped her . . . her mom got drug money in exchange. She turned to cutting to try to avoid the emotional pain she couldn’t deal with . . . when she got caught doing this, her mother went and got a big knife and told her she may as well do it right. So, there are times where I just want to scream, slam the rock back down, run away and pretend I never saw any of those awful things. The thing is, we can close our eyes and turn away, but that doesn’t make it go away . . . it’s still happening. The question is: are we willing to step into the dark and bring the light? “This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but people loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil.” John 3:19 NIV “Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them.” Ephesians 5:11 NIV “Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good.” Romans 12:9 NIV