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When I was in high school, I was a “good” girl. I didn’t drink, didn’t smoke. I made good grades and obeyed my parents. I had a lot of friends, but I wasn’t always invited to things. I specifically remember the time when I had asked my best friend to spend the night. She told me her mom had said no. And that was all fine and dandy . . . until I found out that she had lied to me. She didn’t want to sleep over because she had gone to a party. And I was not invited.   Even at the time, I knew I wouldn’t have gone to that party. But it still hurt to be excluded and lied to. Funny, isn’t it? That we bemoan the fact that we weren’t asked to do something we know very well we would never do anyway?   Things haven’t changed much. There are gatherings and events that I am conspicuously not invited to. And it still hurts. My mind starts to wonder, why am I not invited? Am I too preachy? Too religious? Too “good”? Am I not nice? Not fun? Not “cool”? I realize that sometimes people know I wouldn’t like the drinking, or some of the joking or conversations . . .   I know that sometimes they know we may not be able to afford it—or choose to spend our money that way . . .      I do want to be careful to not dismiss the first questions too quickly.  I know that sometimes I push the God thing hard. Maybe too hard. Or not . . .?  And I still struggle with being judgmental, for sure.  Funny thing is, my judgement has swung from those who keep doing things they shouldn’t do . . . to those who aren’t doing the things they should.  Bottom line is that if I am not being kind or loving, I am not representing Christ well.  It’s such a balance—being “nice” and “fun” and standing for truth and God’s will.  “Nice” and “fun” can have very different meanings to different people.  I am reminded, we are to be in the world, but not of the world. I resolve to be as kind and loving as I can be when I am invited. Lord, please convict me if I need to change my ways.  But if it’s something they wouldn’t invite you to, I guess it’s okay if I am not invited.   “Blessed are you when people hate you, when they exclude you and insult you and reject your name as evil, because of the Son of Man.” Luke 6:22 NIV   “I have given them your word and the world has hated them,  for they are not of the world any more than I am of the world.” John 17:14 NIV   “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” Romans 12:2a NIV

Once again, I would learn that it isn’t how many come, but who comes—and there are no mistakes in who attends. My time was not any better spent when many chose to attend than when only a few would come out. Indeed, sometimes the most powerful times were when there are only a few of us. Such was the day when only two women came out when they opened the sliders of C-block.   Mary had already been to the study a number of times, so I wasn’t surprised to see her. I was surprised, however, at what happened within minutes of getting started. Mary began to talk . . . and talk, and talk. It was like someone shook a bottle of soda pop and popped the top! Years of grief, frustration, and hopelessness that had been bottled up erupted like a volcano. Amidst tears and sobs, I learned the sad story of a little girl who had never known a family, grew up in institutions, was diagnosed with every disorder and labeled with every acronym known to the psychiatric field, was on more medications than a person battling cancer, and as an adult had spent the vast majority of her life in residential treatment or incarceration. I had been getting small doses of these women’s realities over the prior weeks—this was a crash course and a wide-open window into a world I had never seen or known.   Before I could even move to console Mary, the other gal began to talk . . . and talk, and talk. Emboldened by Mary’s vulnerability, she too began to share deeply. She had moved off the reservation in hopes of finding a better life. Those hopes seemed dashed as she found herself back in jail, again. “You don’t think I want what you white ladies have? A house of my own, a man who comes home every night, a family that sits around the table and eats together? I moved to Sioux Falls, hoping to get away from the influence of people that aren’t good for me. I got a job, got a place. My family . . . they started calling me an apple.” In response to my confused look, she clarified, “Red on the outside, white on the inside.” The pull had been too much, and she sunk back into the mire she had tried so hard to escape. Like a zebra in quicksand, it seemed that the harder she tried, the deeper she sank.   My mind was reeling, and my heart hurt. So much raw exposure, emotion, and hardship. I didn’t have the words to say; I didn’t know how to fix them or make it all better. To be honest, I don’t know what I said in return to their raw vulnerability. But I know it changed me. I got a crash course in depravity, fallenness, and despair. I remember feeling gratitude for things I had always taken for granted: a family, a home, and an amazing husband. I remember wishing she knew we didn’t come in different “colors”—red and yellow, black and white. That the shade of our skin on the outside doesn’t define who we are on the inside. That there was just one race . . . the  human  race! I remember thinking, too late to share with them, that what she wanted wasn’t “white”—it was  right . It was  godly . And I remember being so sad that her family had robbed her of that. It was one of the first times I experienced (or at least recognized) how people tend to want to drag people down to their level. Misery does indeed love company.   I hope I offered some encouraging words. I hope I offered some hope. I hope I prayed with them. I hope they felt heard—and loved. I don’t honestly remember. But I remember that Mary was in for nearly a year—probably one of the longest runs of any of the gals I have seen in the jail, as they are usually released, bailed out, or moved on to prison. She didn’t have anyone on the outside that cared about her. She never got any money put on her commissary account. She never got any visits or mail. But . . . she did get Jesus, and she did get hope! I couldn’t believe the transformation. This woman, who had been on a dozen medications when she came in—for everything from depression and anxiety to schizophrenia and bipolar—no longer needed any medications. And she was more balanced and joyful than she had ever been. Even the guards marveled at what she had become. She was bringing some of them to Christ! I am not saying that coming to Christ will fix every medical or psychiatric problem. But I know he can work miracles! I saw him work a miracle in Soda Pop Mary.   “Continue to remember those in prison as if you were together with them in prison, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering.” Hebrews 13:3 NIV   “But I will restore you to health and heal your wounds,” declares the LORD, “because you are called an outcast, Zion for whom no one cares.” Jeremiah 30:17 NIV   “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Psalm 147:3 NIV

The mirror in my bathroom had always portrayed a very confident, capable, accomplished, kind, Christian individual. (There is probably a reason they call it the  vanity !) Yet at the jail I came to see that, in so many ways, I was not the kind, loving Christian I meant to be. They had no idea they did it, but the women at the jail provided a mirror in which I finally came to see myself a bit more clearly.   For so long, I spent my time with people who were like me, and they also reflected this confident, capable, kind Christian. I wanted to believe it, and so I did. I think it was a bit like the emperor who wore no clothes. Everyone around him told him they were such fine clothes, so he had no idea he was naked! In this fable, it was a child who said, “But he hasn’t got anything on.” These women at the jail didn’t exactly tell me I was “naked,” but as Colossians 3:12 became more real to me, I realized I had better make a change of wardrobe if I was to be clothed with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience!   It is not that these women necessarily confronted me directly or pointed out my flaws point blank. But rather, indirectly, they shared their experience with the church—with the Christians they had met—and I began to see myself through their eyes. It broke my heart to hear how we made them feel. How they felt unwelcome in so many churches, how they felt judged and unworthy. How they read of love and generosity and hospitality in the Bible yet had experienced none of this from those who called themselves Christians.   It seems they didn’t care so much if we had served Swedish meatballs at the Fall Festival; their fridge was empty once again. It didn’t seem to matter if we had the most amazing talent show to raise funds for our mission trip to repair the orphanage in Jamaica; their pipes had frozen in their trailer on W. 12th Street. They wouldn’t know anything of our warm welcome of the young couple that was doing mission work for Wycliffe in Papua New Guinea; we had made it pretty clear they wouldn’t be welcome in our little church with their tattoos and revealing clothes.   I didn’t want it to be true . . . especially of me. I think I tried to wipe at the mirror, scrub off the steam from the shower. Surely this reflection of me wasn’t accurate?! But if I was honest, it was. I had been quick to judge, slow to love. I had thought I was somehow better than them. I had drawn lines, boundaries, inclusion/exclusion criteria. Who would be welcome, who would not. Not overtly, of course, but in my heart.   In the book of James, we read, “Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like” (James 1:22–24 NIV). I have read this to mean that, if we look in the mirror and see that we have something stuck in our teeth, we don’t merely go on without doing something about it. We pick at it until we get it out! No one would just shrug their shoulders and move on, heading out the door with a chunk of food stuck in their teeth! And yet, how often do we do that with God’s Word? We do our Bible studies, learn all these things. But are we doing what it says? When it says love your neighbor . . . are we doing it? When it says to welcome strangers . . . are we doing it? When it says feed the hungry and clothe the poor . . . are we doing it? (Not, “Are we paying our taxes for social welfare programs?” The question is, are  we  doing it?!)   I don’t know if we just skipped over some of the hard (convicting) passages—or if I was arrogant enough to think they didn’t include me. But it was like the scales had fallen from my eyes and there they were, staring me in the face. You see, I knew the verses about not drinking too much, about working hard, about fidelity, about gathering together, and about studying the Word. I was passing these with flying colors, which made it that much easier to point fingers at “them.” But then, there these passages were. It was as if they leaped off the page.   The one from Ezekiel: “Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy” (Ezekiel 16:49 NIV).   Ouch. That one hit pretty close to home.   The one from Matthew: “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 7:21 NIV).   Yikes. It seems there is much more to it than simply  claiming  to be Christian.   These, and so many others. Convicting, for sure. So, I am grateful for the mirror I found in those women at the jail. The emperor was no less naked before someone told him, and I was no less guilty before I looked into a more honest mirror. Like James infers, sometimes you need a mirror to see what you need to fix. I’ve got some work to do!   “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.” Colossians 3:12 NIV   “Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.   Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like.” James 1:22-24 NIV   “Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy.” Ezekiel 16:49 NIV     “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.” Matthew 7:21 NIV

The third of three boys, my youngest grandson is always trying to keep up with his big brothers, and he has more try than anybody I know. It started at a very early age, evident even as he began to learn to walk. Before his legs could keep up with his brain, he would trip and stumble and fall . . . repeatedly! But it never kept him down. Back up he would climb, trying again . . . and again . . . and again. The goose egg on his head was testament to his encounter with the corner of the coffee table. The bruise on his cheek came from the tile flooring by the patio door. Yet, despite all the failed attempts, the frustrations, the injuries, he kept on trying.   It was at this very time, as he was learning to walk, that I began my jail ministry. I had had a particularly rough week, feeling as though I was completely inadequate. I didn’t know how to answer their questions, I didn’t know enough Scripture, I still failed to love them unconditionally, I found myself judging . . . again. There was a voice in my head telling me to just give up! I was probably doing more harm than good. They would be better off without my visits to the jail. I was listening to that voice as I watched my tenacious grandson take a particularly tough spill and crack his forehead on the coffee table . . . again. As I watched him determinedly get back up, I heard another voice. It was saying,  “Get back up! Go back in. Just as he keeps getting better, you will get better too. Someday he will be running! So will you. Get up, my daughter.”  I’m not saying it was an audible voice. It was a whisper of the Spirit to my wounded soul. And with it came this dawning realization that I wanted to run!   I thought about what would happen if my grandson just gave up. I had this ridiculous image in my head of a 15-year-old crawling around the living room. Too timid to get up and try to walk. Too afraid of failure. Too afraid of getting hurt. What would he miss?! No tag, no baseball, no football. Can you just imagine him crawling down the aisle on his wedding day?! It seemed so silly, but without a little try—without persistence—that’s where he would end up.   Another dawning realization was that, for these many years in my spiritual walk, I had actually been crawling. I am so grateful for my little grandson’s unintentional witness. I resolved to keep trying. I would get better. I might fail. I might “crack my head on the coffee table.” But I would just get up and try again. I didn’t want to miss out on what God had planned for me. I wanted to run!   “You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.” Hebrews 10:36 NIV    “ Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus,  the pioneer and perfecter of faith.” Hebrews 12:1-2a NIV   “Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.”  Romans 5:3-4 NIV   “Then we will no longer be infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching and by the cunning and craftiness of people in their deceitful scheming. Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is, Christ.” Ephesians 4:14-15 NIV

As my friend and I began our women’s ministry at the county jail, I began noticing that many of these women would talk about their "mom" or their "daughter," yet realizing they weren’t their real mom or daughter.  At first, I thought it may just be one of those blended family issues, with steps and exes, etc.  But then I began realizing there was no formal relationship at all.  These were simply broken women, finding family in each other.  Often, they were women who had lost their moms and been placed in foster care, and then had borne children that were taken from them  and placed in foster care.  Younger women and older women who found each other—on the streets or in the jail—and bonded in a special way.  It made me realize how strong the desire is to be nurtured and to nurture.  Even in the chaos of their worlds, where the God-given family structure was nowhere to be found and even their version of family had been annihilated by their circumstances and their choices, these women longed to be mothers and longed to be daughters.  And so, I would see these 40 somethings taking the 20 somethings under their wings, to console, to mentor, to teach.  It was beautiful in a sad way.  Strong testament to the God-given urge to give and receive love in the bonds of family, heart-breaking to see how far removed it was from what God had originally intended.   One day, only two came out for Bible study.  It may have been one of those "mother"/"daughter" relationships.  The 40 something had been coming regularly, and it was clear that she had a lot of clout in the block.  Even as she attended Bible study and was truly making strides in her faith walk, it was pretty clear that only certain gals came out when she came and others would stay back, even if they may have liked to come.  (Justification may come quickly, sanctification is most certainly a process!)  Regardless, this day just the two of them came to Bible study.  It didn’t take long to realize that the 40 something had a bit of an agenda, and it seemed to be an attempt for the 20 something to have a place to share her story and seek the help she needed.  God could use even the "clout" and the "screening" for his good!   The young woman began to just pour her heart out.  In the times that I had met her it was clear that she had little to no education.  She had made it sound like she was in trouble for stealing at Walmart.  She had had questions about whether it was okay to lie in order to protect people she cared about or to try to minimize her sentence.  Yet on that day, as her story poured out, so much became clear.  No wonder she did not have an education, she had already been in the sex industry for years.  She had been  arrested at Walmart, but it was for trying to "recruit" other young girls into the trade.  She was wondering about lying because she was looking at some serious charges and a lengthy sentence for her role in the sex trafficking circles.    And yet, as I listened to her and watched her, I couldn’t help but wonder . . . who was the victim here?  This was the same girl that had naively asked what would happen if a woman had sex with a horse when we were studying how kinds reproduced after their own kinds in Genesis!  She went on to explain that when she was like 5, she and her cousin were watching a porn movie where a woman was having sex with a horse.  (She did offer a brief comment that she realized she shouldn’t have been watching that.  You think?!)  Her older and wiser cousin—age 7—had informed her that the baby would be half human and half horse.  This 20 something still did not know that this was not how it really was!  I had an innocent, five-year-old grandson at the time.  I tried to keep my jaw from hitting the table as she shared this story from her childhood.  What kind of life could a child hope to lead if they were exposed to bestiality at 5!!!  Little did I know at the time, but this is a common way in which traffickers "groom" young children for the sex industry.   I can still remember her just sobbing.  The feds wanted to meet with her.  They expected her to rat on the others in the racket—her "cousins," which I would come to learn were more likely fellow gang members than her aunt and uncle’s children.  In exchange they would give her some leniency in her sentencing.  The sobs racked her body as she cried out, “Who is going to look out for me!  The feds expect me to help them out, but who will help me!  Sure, I might get out or get out earlier, but to what?  I’ll just get sucked right back into the same lifestyle, the same awful things, the same running and hiding.  Who is going to help me!”  My friend and I just looked at each other.  We hadn’t been coming to the jail very long.  We were green, we were naïve, we were shocked to our core as we caught glimpses of a life we knew absolutely nothing of.   A life that we wanted to pretend didn’t really happen, not in the real world.  But the hard truth was that it did.  And this 20 something was just one of so many.    My friend and I had come wanting to make a difference.  We had been convicted that we were to move beyond the walls of the church.  Jesus had left the synagogue in Jerusalem to care for the lepers and the outcasts . . . where was our mission field?  Well, this was it.  The jail would teach us so many things, hard truths, helpful responses, not-so-helpful responses.  The light of Christ certainly shines brightly in such darkness, and that was something that we could bring in with us—past all the security guards, the metal detectors, through the heavy doors that slammed shut behind us.  But what about when these women walked out those heavy, slamming doors?  What would they be returning to?  And what was God asking us to do about it.    As a part of the work at the Christian camp God had pointed me towards, I had recently visited a horse ministry for young girls in Minnesota.  One that was specifically for young women caught up in trafficking.  We shared that bit of hope with her.  Maybe she could find a place like that to help her start a new life.   My friend had been learning all about trauma-informed care because of her adopted son.  She had shared of her desire to start, what she called, The Brain House.  A place where people understood how trauma impacted the brain and, thus, behaviors.  At one of our first coffees, we had agreed, maybe we were to combine our visions.  Horses are a really powerful tool in the battle against trauma.  As we stood in the hub area at the jail, waiting for the next block to come out, she just looked at me and said, “We need to build The Brain House.”   Little did we know that these little steps of obedience would lead us to the founding of a nonprofit we would call Chrysalis…and, ultimately, to unveiling truths of what brings genuine transformation.   “Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her” Ephesians 5:25 NIV   “Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord.” Ephesians 5:22 NIV   “Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right.” Ephesians 6:1 NIV   “Just as a nursing mother cares for her children,   so we cared for you.” 1 Thessalonians 2:7b-8a NIV

It was my very first time in the jail. I was just shadowing, in fact. I would be doing a Bible study on Wednesday afternoons, but I had gone with the ladies who did the church service on Sundays. I would learn the ropes—figure out where I needed to go and how to navigate the locked doors and corridors. I would be a fly on the wall, just there to watch. They had given me one rule: no hugs.   We meandered through the maze, and I was thinking this had been a really good idea—I would have been totally lost coming alone! I quietly tagged along as we made our way to our destination. As the women gathered at the sliding door and spilled out once it opened, there was quite a bit of talking and even laughing, but one woman caught my eye. She looked so sad! She was crying so hard she could barely breathe. The story that poured out of her to another woman was disjointed and almost incoherent. I couldn’t help but overhear. Something about her car being towed, somebody stealing a bunch of her stuff, the reality of her losing the apartment if she didn’t come up with rent, her son being sent to the juvenile detention center. Many of the details were lost in sobs and sniffles, but the main gist was pretty clear: when she got out, she would have nothing.   No hugs.  That one rule, which had seemed easy enough to follow, kept running through my head.  No hugs.  Even though I didn’t know this woman at all—and I had absolutely no idea what she was in jail for—the raw pain I saw in her face was  begging  me to console her, to bring comfort.  No hugs.   The group wandered down the hall and made their way into the room where we would hold the service. As the other volunteers got the TV set up and the praise and worship music started, I sat quietly in the background, watching. A fly on the wall. I was supposed to be watching how they got everything set up—but I couldn’t take my eyes off that woman. The others began to sing and praise. A devotional was shared, and the videotaped sermon was started. I just kept looking over at that woman. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. They had told me no hugs. They never said anything about offering a tissue. So I grabbed a few from the bag we had brought in with us and made my way over to the woman. She looked up with tear-filled eyes and tear-streaked cheeks and wordlessly accepted the tissues. I gave what I hoped was an encouraging smile and made my way back to my spot. A fly on the wall.   The service ended, and we retraced our steps, returning the women to their block and making our way out of the maze of corridors. It was my first time in the jail. I left feeling completely inadequate.   Months later, someone from the church shared a letter with me. The return address was for a federal prison in Texas. It was from that woman in the jail. She proceeded to thank the church for sending people into the jail, sharing how much it meant to her. You see, that day she had given up all hope. Raised by a father who was a pastor, she went to that church service to make amends with the God of her youth. A God that had seemed absent as she had struggled with so much, for so long. And having made amends, she had planned to return to her cell and end her life.   At least, that was what she had planned . . . until a woman handed her a tissue! That one simple act had restored her faith that there was still hope! She went on to share how God had been working in her life since that day. Even though she would spend a few years in federal prison, she was attending church and every Bible study group they offered. She was taking self-help classes and even working on her GED. She was filled with hope and plans for her future! She asked if they would share her letter with that woman who shared the tissue . . .   I had my own tears streaming down my cheeks as I read her letter. They were partly for this woman, tears of joy. But they were partly in awe of the God we serve. He knew me, his daughter. He knew my feelings of inadequacy. He knew well that I would go in worrying about if I would know the right thing to do, the right words to say, the right scriptures to share. He made sure that I knew that as I went into the jail, I didn’t necessarily need to share all kinds of wisdom or advice or assistance in order to help these women. I just needed love—a crazy, radical, undeserved, and unconditional love.  His  love, overflowing from the place where he dwelled, within my heart. And maybe a tissue!   “How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?     Look on me and answer, Lord my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death, and my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,” and my foes will rejoice when I fall.” Psalm 13:1-4 NIV   “…I did not come with eloquence or human wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God. …My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God’s power.” 1 Corinthians 2:1b, 4-5 NIV   “But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing the Lord’s praise, for he has been good to me.” Psalm 13:5-6 NIV

I have a friend who has been plunged deeply into the world of foster care, and she is not one to mince words. She shares perhaps more than she should about the circumstances "her kids" come from. And yet, her stark honesty has been a part of how God has broken my heart for what breaks his. If these children’s darkest secrets stay in the dark, we in the church or in society in general have no idea of what goes on.    She tells of the infant who was brought to her in a church parking lot, with little or no notice, as her other children were trunk-or-treating. This little one had been in three foster homes in the past 24 hours. He simply would not stop crying! The others had not been able to take it and Child Protective Services was forced to try and find yet another home to care for this little one. My friend ended up taking the baby to the doctor, only to find that the poor child was so malnourished that he had literally made a hole in the roof of his mouth with his constant suckling, when there was nothing to suckle.    Another boy had been in her custody for a while when he was returned to his mother. The return was short-lived, however, and the boy was once again in her care. During that brief time—in what should have been the safety of his home, with the one who should have been his protector and caregiver—the little boy had been raped so badly that, in her words, he "couldn’t poop normal for a year."  My heart breaks, Lord, for what breaks yours.   “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 NIV   “May the Lord make your love increase and overflow for each other  and for everyone else, just as ours does for you.” 1 Thessalonians 3:12 NIV   “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.” Philippians 2:3-4 NIV

In this time of waiting, I found myself in the coffee shops once again. In biblical times, the well was a place of communal gathering—some have called coffee shops the modern well. I enjoyed the smell of roasting coffee beans and the peaceful ambience as I saw people turning the pages of their bible and overheard muted conversations about Jesus. I, myself, was working on a Bible study in one of the comfy chairs by the fire at my favorite coffee shop when I was joined by one of my dear friends. I call her my "cool drink of water." When I felt dry and parched, she would bring encouragement that was like a glass of cold water on a hot day. How often her sweet words of encouragement had given me the strength to carry on. Today was no exception.    It was such a confusing time. There was the possible horse ministry . . . the creation ministry . . . the job at the camp . . . or not? It was just so confusing. I don’t remember what all was said, but I know I was left refreshed and rejuvenated. I could continue to wait on the Lord another day. As we stood to say our goodbyes, I do remember standing there, halfway to the door, receiving her hug and sharing some final thoughts.    “I don’t know where God is leading, but I do know that if I continue in horse ministry, it can’t be about the horse. It seems like such a slippery slope. So often it becomes all about the horse and God is sort of pushed out the back door . . .” I bemoaned the fact that, as I had been out in the community promoting HorsePower, I was expected to use the tagline: "the power of the horse to heal." I just couldn’t continue to espouse that—I knew  who had the real power to heal. I finished by saying, “Whatever ministry I step into, God needs to get all the glory.” She agreed wholeheartedly and, with a final hug, we parted ways.   Returning to the Bible study I had set aside, the second verse I was to look up was Psalm 33:20. After finding Psalm 33, I ran my finger down the page to find verse 20. The last verse on that page was verse 17, so with my finger resting on it I went to turn the page to continue my search when my eyes took in the words my finger was pointing to . . . something about a horse. Interesting. I went on to read it in its entirety , “A horse is a vain hope for deliverance; despite all its great strength it cannot save.” I kid you not. Just a few short minutes after my conversation with my friend, God pointed out to me in scripture precisely what I had just stated! A verse I don’t remember seeing before. A verse I never would have sought out on my own. Yet, there it was, jumping off the page at me. How much more specific could it have been?! It was, quite literally, precisely what I had just shared.   Eager to see what verse 20 said, I turned the page to find, “We wait in hope for the Lord; he is our help and our shield.” Goosebumps were raised on my arms and the hair stood up on my neck. This was no accident, no coincidence. This was God in heaven affirming what I had just told my friend. You are getting this right, daughter! This is the way, walk in it!  The horse would not be the one to save these broken and hurting people. While a useful tool and an effective therapy, the horse was merely that—a tool. It was God that would heal, God that would save! I was resolved, now more than ever, to put my hope in the Lord. To wait on the Lord. Whether my ministry ever used horses again, or not.    “Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.” 1 Thessalonians 5:11 NIV   “To our God and Father be glory for ever and ever. Amen.” Philippians 4:20 NIV   “A horse is a vain hope for deliverance; despite all its great strength it cannot save.” Psalm 33:17 NIV   “We wait in hope for the Lord; he is our help and our shield.” Psalm 33:20 NIV

In the midst of a season of waiting in the fog, unclear of where God would lead next, there were a couple instances where God prompted me to reach out to someone. Just send a text, give them a call. They were gentle, yet persistent nudges that didn’t seem like a big deal. He wasn’t asking much of me—it would have been easy to miss them, ignore them, to simply say  no . But even in these simple steps of obedience, God would show up in some pretty amazing ways.   The God of Angel Armies   My brother has had a long and hard struggle with addictions of almost every kind. Watching God work in his life has been one of the most powerful impacts in my faith walk. The Bible talks of being 'made new.' I watched it happen to my brother. By the grace of God, he was walking victorious over the power of alcohol and drugs and gambling.   In his newfound freedom, he chose to testify in the sentencing hearing for the drug dealer he distributed for. On the morning he was to testify, I knew it would be a scary deal and that he may be feeling a bit anxious. So, before I started my volunteer work at my church, I sent him a simple text of encouragement, “Speak the truth in love.” His response affirmed that he was indeed feeling anxious and frightened. I responded with the next thing that came to me, “The God of angel armies is always by your side.”   I was helping one of the pastors that morning, and I shared with him that I would need to leave around 10 a.m. to be with my mom while my brother testified in court. I thought that I was at peace with it all, but I did find myself checking the clock frequently, a little anxious about the whole thing and how the morning would go. As I was writing events on a giant wall calendar, my back was to the pastor as he worked quietly at his desk. Suddenly, I heard him singing—quietly, but clearly, “The God of angel armies is always by your side”! Nothing before, nothing after, just the one line of the chorus. The one I had sent to my brother just a short time before!   Now, I had never heard this pastor sing at work before, or since. And there are a lot of songs, even if you narrow it down to praise and worship songs, and many lines within that one song. So, what were the odds that he would sing that line, out loud, right after I had sent a silent text just moments before with that very same line? It is things like this, coincidences (not!), that have helped me see that there is a God above. And he just keeps getting bigger.   The very next day, a dear friend came to see me with her newborn—a precious baby boy that I would be blessed to become the godmother of! As I held him, sleeping in my arms, he suddenly squirmed and twisted up his little red face—whimpering and on the verge of crying—as though he was having a bad dream. Instinctively, I reached to gently stroke his cheek, softly caressing his baby-soft skin. Reassuring him that he was not alone, that I was right there with him. As quickly as his distress had arisen, his peaceful slumber resumed.   It was in that moment, that I realized that that was precisely what God had done for me the day before. As I began to fret and stew over my brother’s predicament, the God of heaven reached down to gently stroke my cheek. Reassuring me that I was not alone, that he was right there with me. In that moment, I knew that God cared deeply for  me . He saw me, he knew me, he loved me. That’s pretty personal.   WOW!!   Another time, as I was doing my morning devotionals and spending time with the Lord, a woman’s name kept coming to mind. She had been a volunteer at HorsePower. We had certainly gotten to know each other a bit and enjoyed each other, but I would not say we had become friends. We hadn’t spent time together outside of her volunteer service at HorsePower. And I wasn’t even with HorsePower anymore. Why did she keep coming to mind? I felt like I should call her, but that was weird, right? What would I even say? And what would she think of a call from me at 7:30 in the morning . . . out of the blue? I can remember arguing with God a bit.  Why in the world would I call her — and at this hour?  He was persistent.  Well, that’s just awkward. I do have her number in my phone, but I don’t even know if it’s right for me to call her for any reason other than HorsePower related calls .  . .  The nagging feeling remained. I finally agreed to compromise.  Well, okay, God. But I am going to text.   So, at 7:30 a.m. on a random weekday morning, I shot a text off to this volunteer—from my old job. I texted something like, “Good morning! I just wanted you to know that you have been on my heart this morning as I am spending some time in prayer. Hope things are going well with you!” There. I had done it.   It wasn’t but a few seconds when my phone’s text alert went off. I opened the text to find her response:   WOW!!! You wouldn’t believe where I am. I am in the emergency room with my son. He is going to need to have an emergency appendectomy! And my ex just showed up and things are getting really tense. I was losing it. I didn’t know how I was going to handle all this stress and then you sent that text.   Again, wow! I  wouldn’t  have believed it. No wonder God had wanted me to reach out to this woman! I am so glad that I put aside my “weird” filter and just went ahead and did it. Both of us got to see how amazing God is! He saw her in her struggle and asked one of his daughters to reach out and give her some encouragement. Warms my heart in a really reverent kind of way. This was one of many ways in which God was teaching me to just say yes—even if it does seem weird. Or inconvenient. Or hard. Or impossible! When we obey, we get to see God. I wish I would have called her, rather than chickening out and texting. I wonder what our conversation would have looked like! But God still used it, my half-hearted yes. He was building my faith and my desire to respond to him—even in the little things. Now, I wanted to wade in deeper. Until I was  all in ! Little did I know what lay ahead.   “Then Micaiah continued, “Listen to what the Lord says! I saw the Lord sitting on his throne with all the armies of heaven around him, on his right and on his left.” 1 Kings 22:19 NIV   “When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them?” Psalm 8:3-4­­ NIV   “Whoever has my commands and keeps them is the one who loves me. The one who­­ loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love them and show myself to them.”” John 14:21 NIV   “And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another advocate to help you and be with you forever – the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you know him, for he lives with you and will be in you.” John 14:16-17 NIV   “For prophecy never had its origin in the human will, but prophets, though human, spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit. 2 Peter 1:21 NIV

Confident in the Lord’s leading, I submitted my application for the director position at the Christian camp, and waited. For my interview. For the offer. But neither ever came. It was a Friday when I received the letter in the mail bearing the camp logo . . . I wasn’t even considered for an interview. I will have to admit, I spent Saturday in quite a funk. I could hardly believe it! How could this be possible? I kept looking at the plaque I had bought for our home office with Isaiah 40:31 painted over the picture of a soaring eagle. Had I heard God wrong . . .?   I had learned through my experience at HorsePower that, even if God leads you there, the going wasn’t always easy. In all fairness, the Bible warns that following Jesus won’t  be easy. Scripture says that we must pick up our cross and follow him—and after seeing The Passion  and its graphic depiction of Jesus’ crucifixion, "picking up our cross" took on a whole new meaning! Yet, the Bible also promises that God will go before us and will always be with us. And, in this particular case, I was reminded over and over that we could soar on wings like eagles. If only we waited on the Lord, he would be the wind beneath our wings.   On Sunday morning at our new church home, the pastor started a new sermon series called . . . The Waiting Room! He went on to say, “Maybe you find yourself in a season of waiting . . . maybe between jobs . . .” My husband was elbowing me in the ribs. It was as though the pastor was speaking directly to me. And then for the next slide, the picture of a soaring eagle . . . and Isaiah 40:31! The same verse God had put on my heart as I watched that eagle soar over the rolling hills of the Christian camp. The pastor was emphasizing the importance of waiting  while you wait— serving. Another breadcrumb, for sure. I was on the right path. I just had to wait.   So, I waited  while I waited. I volunteered every Monday morning at the church, where I would type the prayers that people submitted on Sunday. And I began to volunteer at a local prayer ministry, where I spent an entire afternoon each week in prayer with some of the most amazing prayer warriors I have ever met! While my friend from Topeka, KS had taught me the passion of prayer, these women taught me the power of prayer. I was learning that God is always at work, even when we don’t realize it. Teaching us, shaping us, battering us into something useful for his kingdom work.    As only God could orchestrate, during this season our new church began its jail ministry. Because God had me strategically placed at the church on Monday mornings (through what I had seen, initially, as rejection by the camp), I began to type the prayers of the people in the jail. And God began to break my heart for what breaks his. Maybe 5% of the average church attenders sought prayer, while probably 95% of the folks in the jail begged  for prayer. Their masks were off! And through these prayers, I began to see deeper and deeper into this world that I had previously only had glimpses of. Assumptions and stereotypes I had long held were challenged, judgments I didn’t realize I made were being exposed. These were broken people. Hurt people who hurt people. People  who loved their kids, loved their families, but were caught up in the cycle of poverty, neglect, abuse, addiction. People who wanted something different—who desperately wanted God. And he was making a way for me to bring them the gospel. In time, I would begin a weekly Bible study with the women in the jail.   Again, as only God could orchestrate, during this season the prayer center began to send prayer warriors in to pray with people after chapel at a local behavioral health center. As they went to pray with these people, they found they had SO many questions—questions even the prayer warriors didn’t feel equipped to handle. They were asking scientific questions, philosophical questions . . . hard  questions. Because God had me strategically placed at the prayer center, these women knew my heart to share the gospel with evidence. The director of the prayer center approached me, asking if I would be willing to help out with the behavioral health center’s spirituality groups. Would I share in the unique way that God had gifted me . . . the same way that he had reached me. Doors were opened that had previously seemed closed. I began to bring the Good News—with evidence—to people hungry  for the truth.   “…but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” Isaiah 40:31 NIV   “Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”” Matthew 16:24 NIV   “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28 NIV   “In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will,” Ephesians 1:11 NIV

On the day my resignation from HorsePower would become public, I received a very interesting phone call. It was from the director of a Christian camp, just over the border into Iowa. He was wondering if I knew of anyone who could help run their summer horse camps. My mind was racing . . .   Seriously, God? I thought you were asking me to give up the horse thing? But then, this was a Christian camp, we could pray and call on his name there . . .   But God, the director isn’t asking me, he doesn’t even know I am leaving HorsePower. But God did . . .   I thought I was supposed to start preaching the gospel with evidence? Oh, why was this man calling . . . and today, of all days?!   It seemed like a pretty big coincidence, and I no longer believed in coincidences. Still, I threw out every name I could think of, besides my own, and then I finally said, “You know, I am actually resigning from HorsePower . . . ” He responded, “I think we should have a cup of coffee.”   Over our cup of coffee, we had a great visit about the camp, their horse program, what I had been up to. Then he took me on a tour of the grounds, which included the area set aside for the horse camp—beautiful rolling hills, covered with oak trees, an outdoor riding arena, a picnic shelter, fire pit, and these adorable covered wagons that served as the bunkhouses for the campers. If I was supposed to be moving on from the horse thing, the devil was certainly offering an attractive distraction.    Our tour proceeded and when we finished up at the last building, we sat and visited in the car. The director looked at me and said, “Okay, I’m being pretty transparent here but maybe this is something that you should be thinking about. I am 68, soon to be 69. While I don’t want to retire, I need to be thinking about it. Considering your experience and your gifts, maybe that is something you might want to consider?” My head was spinning now. The horse thing was maybe a little tempting, but director of this whole big camp?! I was a scientist, for Pete’s sake! I could barely manage a $250,000 annual budget and this was more like $3 million. I politely told him I would pray about it, but in reality, I had pretty much already decided . . . no.   I left the camp and found a place to park at the base of the hill where I could sort of look over the entire grounds. I found myself praying, “God, what are we doing here? I thought you wanted me to pursue the evidence-based teaching, to help restore the authority of scripture, to help put a firm foundation under people’s faith? What is this whole horse camp thing? And the director thing?! I don’t know what you want me to do.”    I pulled away and glanced at my phone, which I had silenced during our visit. There was a missed call. As I listened to the voicemail, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. There was a woman’s voice saying, “Hey Kaia! You might not remember me . . .   We met a long time ago at the creation conference? You loaned me some materials. We are moving and I just came across them. I was wondering if you might be needing them?” It was the gal that was my "chance" meeting in Kentucky—nearly ten years prior. Looked to me like God was saying we were going to be doing some creation ministry! I hung a right at this proverbial fork in the road, leaving that camp in the rearview mirror . . .  or so I thought.    “ I lift up my eyes to the mountains – where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.” Psalm 121:1-2 NIV   “I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my loving eye on you.” Psalm 32:8 NIV

God brought this image to me at a time when I was realizing how many people I knew and loved—who had once been "in" the church—were no longer believing in God or were having serious doubts about their faith. Among others I had already been aware of, right around this time a family member shared with me that they were not just agnostic but atheist, one was struggling with homosexuality, another had serious questions about God. A co-worker shared that she had become disillusioned with and left the church, a childhood friend and fellow confirmand informed me that he, too, was now agnostic.   This one was more of an image than a scene that played out. Again, in the early morning hours, I saw in my mind’s eye an image of a man’s hands repairing a fishing net. Having worked fisheries for a number of summers during college, I was well aware of what a tear in a fishing net would look like and even how to go about repairing it. These tan, strong hands were busy repairing the tear.   When I woke up, again it was immediately clear that the net represented the church and the hands were the hands of Christ, himself. It was clear that "fish" that had been in the net could have easily slipped out through the tears. The fish that escaped the net were all those who had been raised in the church or been going to church, but had somehow slipped out. The organized church was clearly broken. Even before I was aware of the statistics and the research that showed the mass exodus (especially of young people) from the church, this vision impressed on my heart that we had to do something about how the church was representing Christ to the world. After all, we are his ambassadors. We needed to stop merely going to church and start being the church.      “But I am afraid that as the serpent deceived Eve by his cunning, your thoughts will be led astray from a sincere and pure devotion to Christ.” 2 Corinthians 11:3 NIV “My brothers, if anyone among you wanders from the truth and someone brings him back, let him know that whoever brings back a sinner from his wandering will save his soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins.” James 5:19-20 NIV   “Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.” 2 Corinthians 5:20 NIV