How to be Friends with Jesus

I feel really connected to someone when we're riding in the car listening to a song we both know. We start to sing it. The chorus comes and the gusto ensues. There's head-bobbing and fists for microphones. Creative hand movements emerge as well as attempts to make instrumental sounds with our mouth. We serenade each other and if we're feeling really audacious, we sing to the person in the next car.

Maybe we're off key, mumbling through words, and the back seat friend is shaking their head, but we don't care. We are vulnerable and free in that moment and that's the way we like it. 

Something crazy to think about is that you can have that kind of friendship with the Creator of the universe. Yes, you can. It seems impossible, but that's the very reason you're alive right now. God wants you. It's like the lame kid at school hanging out with the popular kid. It's like the poor man and the rich man sharing a meal. It's beautiful.

It's also simple. It might seem complicated, but it's not. A friendship with Jesus looks more like singing in the car and less like fancy, distant prayers and lofty speech about the Bible.

But let's not get crazy. You've gotta pray and read the Bible. How can you be friends with someone if you don't talk (pray) or know about them (Bible)? If you're pursuing a friendship with Jesus and you're not doing those things consistently, then that needs to change. You also need to be friends with his friends (church). Yep, you outta go to church, too.

But on the other hand, let's do get crazy. Tell him everything you wouldn't tell anyone else and say it the way you need to say it. Honestly, Jesus isn't impressed with cute prayers. No lip service here. He wants you to be real. Once, I was talking to him about something frustrating. I said "bull crap" over and over again while I ground my teeth and punched something. Why? I was being honest in front of my friend. I can boldly talk to the King in all His glory, still revere him, and be utterly vulnerable all at once.

When I mess up, yeah he's not happy about it, but he's forgiving and patient. He never nags and will never condescend. He usually says "You know, that's okay... you're more than that and you'll make it next time." If I don't realize that I'm messing up, he kindly lets me know and encourages me to step up my game.  I don't perform in order to be accepted. I'm accepted already, so I perform. He gives the power to overcome things that distract and trip me. Little by little, I'm changing and my new DNA I got when we first became friends is beginning to show up in my character. That's what happens.

"If anyone is in Christ they are a new creation. The old has gone and the new has come." 2 Corinthians 5:17

The bottom line is we work so hard at our relationships with people. Text messages and phone calls, likes and retweets, lunch dates, movie nights, jam sessions, book clubs, fist bumps and bear hugs. What about Jesus? He's like the friend we invite to our house who awkwardly sits on the couch while we're consumed by life on a screen. We need to realize his presence. Realize that he speaks your language. He laughs at that YouTube video with such vivacious laughter. He coaches you while you're running up that hill at the park. He compliments the way you look while getting ready in the morning. He reminds you to pay that bill. He gives you strength to keep going during an ugly, confusing time.

You can be someone and do things beyond what you'd ever think.
Jesus loves you and he paid for your freedom with his life.

He wants to live with you in this life and in eternity.
Friendship with Jesus is the only life that will fill the emptiness that the greatest things on earth could never fill.

"This is the way to have eternal life--to know you the only true God and Jesus Christ, the one you sent to earth." John 17:3

So Much Junk Food

There's no question: junk food is bad. Really bad. Everyone knows that. We all know what it does to us and how much we're addicted to it.

It's so much easier for me to sit down with a box of crackers and eat enough of them to consider it my dinner instead of eating a good, wholesome meal that I have to cook myself. I'd rather pop something in the microwave than take the time to plan, buy, and prepare food for myself that I know is way better and way, way tastier than junk food.

Junk food is easy and it's fast and I don't have to work so hard just to feed myself.

So is social media and Netflix and online articles and music.

It seems like those things dominate a lot of my free time. I get so caught up in the feelings and the emotional highs of it all, but I know very well that it does nothing for my mind, soul, or spirit. It doesn't nourish. And you, reading this right now, I think you know that too.

"Our stomachs are so full of the small, there is no room for the great." -John Piper

A friend and I decided recently that we were going to read a certain number of chapters from the Bible everyday. The first night I made myself stay up plowing through pages of the New Testament, I thought, "Why haven't I been doing this? This is awesome. This is what I need to be doing every single day." It felt good--really it did.

BUT after that first night, it started to feel like a chore. Why? Because I'm addicted to junk food. I'd rather spend my time browsing through Facebook or watching episodes of Community. Just being honest.

But this Bible reading thing is really doing something for me. I'm finding that I'm bored with social media and I don't like the stuff on it. It is so boring. SO boring. Watching another episode on Netflix used to be tempting, but now I'm like... "Another episode? Ehhhh.... blechhhh."

So this is what's happening to me. How is it happening? I'll tell you.

Intentionally saying "no" to my urges and saying "yes" to doing something that doesn't seem that fun. You may not be watching horrible, terrible TV shows or  listening to tasteless music. You could be enjoying good, wholesome entertainment. That's great. But that doesn't mean it's not messing with your attention span and "ruining your dinner"--your real dinner. Let go of it little by little and soon enough you'll be craving what the Bible says instead of what a Facebook meme says.

"How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth! Through your precepts I get understanding." -Psalm 119: 103-104

Also see: One Reason You're Bored With the Bible

Nepal: An Unexpected Journey

I had been jealous of Bilbo Baggins. His spontaneous adventure had me wanting one of my own. I wanted someone to knock on my door and interrupt my life. A couple of weeks ago, that's what happened. I decided to go to Nepal within the next few days. Jesus said, "Hey, Liz. I'm going to Nepal. Wanna go with me?" I said yes.

There are moments like that in every Jesus follower's life. It might not be something like going to Nepal, but if you follow Jesus, He can be pretty random, ask you to drop whatever you're doing and go with Him. We just have to say, "Okay, Jesus."

It was quite the journey, too. Seeing what our team saw, breathing what we breathed, smelling what we smelt, walking where we walked, and sleeping where we slept can really change a person. I could to say A LOT (even though this will be pretty long) but I'm not a good enough writer and you're not a patient enough reader. But here's what I've got to say.

If my brother suffers, I suffer. 

The Bible talks about how all Christians are like parts of a human body (1 Corinthians 12). If my stomach hurts, the rest of the body knows it and wants to lay down somewhere and groan. So if my Christian brothers and sisters in Nepal are hurting, I hurt with them. Going on this trip really helped me do that.

Because we were physically there standing on the pile of rocks that used to be a home, the suffering became real. At a church service, I was called to the front to say a few words. When I got up there, my eyes got watery. I was looking at the faces of suffering people who had lost loved ones. I felt so sorry. Our team went to a funeral for a 16 year old boy named Samir and watched his 82 year old grandfather cry. I sobbed.

Driving through the mountains for hours and going through village after village of completely decimated homes really wakes you up to how much pain and hurt and fear people are wrestling with. What could I do? What could I say? I don't even speak the language. But I had the chance to be there. I had the chance to dig through rubble just so a man's dead goats could be recovered. If that's what the hurting family wanted, then, yes, absolutely; whatever they needed to get through this horrible, awful, ugly, confusing time.

My reaction to news reports of disasters from now on will be very different. 

Jesus loves the little children.

All the children of the world. Runny-nosed, dirty-footed children. Children who would wear the same clothes the next day and the next day and the day after that. They called me "Liz Sista" and sang Nepali songs at me. They would unzip my tent in the morning and say "Sista! Good morning! Play game?" They would take me on hikes to pick mountain berries and I would feel sick from eating so many of them. They would wrap their arms tightly around my hips. They would give me big, slobbery kisses on my cheek and I would return them. They let me carry one of those baskets with a forehead strap and taught me to cut a type of medicinal grass with a small machete.

They followed me everywhere. Little Hindu kids who knew I was going to church where Christians would be wanted to come with me anyway. A young boy, Krisna, followed me to a prayer service. At that meeting the leader of our team was talking about Heaven through a Nepali translator. For the first time, Krisna heard about Jesus and the hope that Christians have.

My favorite moment was with a 5 year old boy named Bibke (beebek). We kept saying our names to each other:

Bibke:    "Liz..."
Me:        "Bibke..."
              "Liz...."              "Bibke..."
*giggling
           "Liz!"           "Bibke!"             "Liz!"              "Bibke!"               "LIZ!"       "BIBKE!"
I started tickling him. His laugh is the greatest.

Those kids are so incredibly precious. Even though I couldn't talk to them in a language they understood, I got to show them Jesus and I hope and pray that they will understand His love and know what it means to be friends with God.

The lowest of the low

Among those precious kids was a boy who all the other kids ignored, punched, and yelled at. Sometimes he would cry because of it. The reason they did this is outrageous. In Hinduism, there is a hierarchy order known as the caste system that's based on what family a person is born into. It starts with the Brahmans and goes all the way down to the Dalits.  The Dalits are the lowest of the low. They're also considered the untouchables which means touching such a person has a very horrible meaning.

This boy was a dalit. I know because I heard kids shouting that word at him as they pointed. Just like Jesus is passionate about the lowest of the low, I wanted to be that way too. I decided to be very intentional about giving him affection in front of the other kids. I would choose to hold his hand as we walked in a group and I would pick him up and kiss the side of his forehead. I wanted the other kids to see that I valued him just like I valued the rest of them from higher castes.

When those other kids clobbered him and threw him over the edge of the terrace, you better believe I took those little hands that pushed him and gave them a good slap. Nothing infuriated me more than seeing that boy on the ground weeping from rejection as the other kids laughed at his pain. I picked him up in my arms and said, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

"I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these, you were doing it to me." -Jesus, Matthew 25: 40

My real home doesn't have earthquakes.

This world is broken and it's not my home. I'm waiting for the day I get to go to my real home. That hope is burning in me after seeing so much brokenness. We Christians have sorrow, but we still understand that this world is not all there is and we're not going to be here that much longer. The world is like the waiting room of an airport.

Now, airport waiting rooms are fine. They're somewhat comfortable. You can entertain yourself there. You have good friends there with you. But, really, you're just waiting to get on the plane and go home. Your real home doesn't have earthquakes. It doesn't have mean people who push kids and call them names. It doesn't have heartbreak or rejection or sickness. It doesn't have motorcycle wrecks or freak accidents. It doesn't have murderers or cheaters or deceivers. A man who finally realizes that an airport waiting room does not satisfy him should not be criticized. Of course it doesn't satisfy him. It's not home!

You should enjoy your life, yes. You should have dreams and goals. You should go through hard stuff, but don't be satisfied here. Don't do it. Your real home is indescribably better and you're going there soon because of the love and forgiveness of Jesus! Be happy! Look at the joy that's ahead of you! Rejoice in hard times! You're going home soon AND YOUR HOME DOESN'T HAVE EARTHQUAKES!

And while you're here, help other people get there. Love them, serve them, live your life for them.

"If I find in myself desires that nothing in this world could satisfy I can come to the conclusion that I was not made for here."  -C.S. Lewis

Extras

Where were you when the second earthquake happened?
In a squeaky Toyota Land rover a few hours away from the capital after spending 6 days in the mountain village. The car shook and a big boulder rolled from the side of the mountain between the two cars our team was traveling in. We looked behind us and saw a lot of dirt in the air back in the area we just came from: landslide. We felt lots of small and sometimes not so small after shocks up to that point.

How did you get around?
With the two beauties on the ends of my legs. However, we did ride in a truck on dangerous mountain roads for 6-7 hours to get out to the village we would be staying at. Several times, we met another vehicle coming from the opposite direction and were forced to squeeze past each other right next to the edge of the road which was a big, scary drop off the mountain side. Sometimes the slope was so steep, the truck couldn't make it with our weight. We had to get out and walk up hill for a little while as our driver gunned it all the way to the top of the slope. When we traveled from village to village, we would walk and hike.

Did you ever get to shower?
In our hotel in Kathmandu, yes. In the mountain village, no. I used baby wipes twice but found it almost meaningless because I got so dirty every day. I would wash my face, arms and legs at a small spring water hose that disconnected at one section.

What did you eat?
Rice
Goat meat
Daal (surprisingly tasty bean soup)
Meal-Ready-to-Eat. Just add water. Thank you, U.S. military.
Isalu (mountain berry that looks like an orange raspberry)
Banana pancakes (at the hotel)
Nepali tea (the best tea ever. seriously.) 

Where did you sleep?
In a tent in a sleeping bag on a ground that was pretty bumpy. I especially felt tremors during the night when my body was lying completely on the ground. 

What was your bathroom situation like?
Horrible, terrible, awful. Hole in the ground surrounded by tarp and two planks of wood for each foot when you squatted. It got worse as the week progressed. A feeling of dread overcame me whenever I needed to use it. 

Most surprising moments?
-In the capital seeing a gold box on a vendor's table labeled "CANNABIS"
-Seeing a woman cook over an open fire with an undershirt, a sweater, and a jacket in hot weather.
-Hearing several loogies being forcefully hocked. Men and women, boys and girls alike.
-Dogs constantly barking right before a huge, scary tremor.
-A goat we named "Dinner" trying to eat my hair.
-Different goat pooping on me.
-Seeing a goat being slaughtered
(probably for dinner that night. Take that, goat. You were tasty).
-Lifting up a kid and seeing then feeling their snot fall on my face.
-Completely peeing on my pants at my rusty attempt to squat.
-In a shop seeing a guitar case completely  made of hemp. I bought it.
(THC free) 

Are you gonna go back?

Maybe I will for a very short time. The missionary asked me if I'd consider coming back to work with the kids. I'm praying about it.

Whoopty-Freakin'-Doo

There are two different cultural perspectives on confidence:
1. Don't brag on yourself so much. You'll get too cocky.
2. It's good to know that you're awesome. After all, you are.

I've been back and forth on these too mindsets pretty much my entire life. From what I hear a lot of the time, and being a deep part of American culture, number 2 is the way to think. You should examine all your strengths, relish in them, cultivate them, and proudly display them.

If you're physically attractive then post pictures of yourself on social media.
If you're making bank, make sure people know.
If you're smart, fill up your conversations with highly academic words.
Show off your significant other and your children.

If you're a Christian, talk about how you read your Bible, pray, and lead people to Jesus. Talk about all your mission trips and outreaches you were a part of. Talk about how you lead a small group Bible study and go to the nursing home. Give generously to charities. Make yourself feel good. After all, you are a Christian.

I'm talking about myself, here.

Here's what the Bible says about it all:
"Blessed are the poor in spirit for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs." Matthew 5:3
 Basically, God favors those who know that they can't.

"All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags." Isaiah 64:6
Even on my best day, when I wake up and the first thing I want to do is talk to Jesus and then I read my Bible and then I get in the shower and cry over the lost people of the world and then I fast and then I give money to my church and then I listen to worship music and pray all the way to work and then I witness to somebody. I'm starting to think, "Whoa. I am on FIRE today."

I've got NOTHING. I'm starting to think that God's response to all of my awesome, Mother-Teresa-ish deeds is "Whoopty-freakin'-doo."


I listened to a Tim Keller sermon recently. He talked about the difference between middle-class-spirit people and poor-in-spirit people.

Middle-class-in-spirit people: Love Religion. Satisfied with what religion can offer them and are easily filled up with their good deeds.

Poor-in-spirit people: Love the Gospel. They know there is no way they can measure up and be a good enough person. They love Jesus and are overwhelmed with the sacrifice and the love He gave to them.


I don't want to be a middle-class person. I want to be a poor person. I hope all the things I've done does not satisfy me.

I want to know that I can't.
I want to realize that I deserve Hell, but God showed me mercy anyway.