For the One

Well, I don't know where to start....I suppose I could start with the fact that I spent the last month and half here:

The Republic of Kiribati (which I'd really never heard of until I found out I was going there), also known as the Line Islands, are a small group Islands in the South Pacific and, as you can see, they are extremely beautiful.

These were taken in Kiritimati Island, our first stop.  The people are quiet and a little shy, but we were able to make some good friends before we left...like this girl:

Her name is Ariel, and we played music together.  She tried to teach me to dance, but I'm pretty bad the whole hip thing.  She, however, can break it down.  

One of the ways we were welcomed into a village was by the locals having a giant potluck.  Those are coconuts:  You have to pay five bucks for one in Fiji...

But here, you can just do this:

...But don't look down...

Trust me...I know...

Next we got onto our boat and sailed over to Fanning Island.  We really felt led as a team to be there. 

 This is Captain Ann, and our friend Kasawa.  He is a very friendly and charming gentleman who, unfortunately, had to have his leg amputated.  So we brought him some books because he loves to read.  

Most of our ministry involved playing with kids.  We put on countless kid's clubs, sang songs, and played games.  

This is my special friend that the Lord blessed me with.  He brought us together for such a time as this, and I have been forever changed by her.  The day we arrived on Fanning Island, she lost a child in a tragic accident and two of my teammates were present during the incident.  I knew in my heart someone was grieving and I wanted to find them...and...hug them or something.  Two days later I met Beneti, and learned who she was.  She teaches English at the secondary school, and we became fast friends.  I taught her English classes whenever I could so that she wouldn't have to.  I'm not sure teachers in Kiribati are allowed bereavement leave.  I felt honored and humbled to be used by the Lord in this way; that He would take me thousands of miles out of my way because of His love for one person.  Because of His breaking heart for one person.  It expanded my understanding of His love for me.

I learned that I don't want to be a teacher...Baneti does it much better than I do.

 Things I learned:

 God moves and speaks quietly.

The human experience is pretty much the same for everyone regardless of who you are or where you live.

 

And my God sees the individual.  He sees the one.  

I want to thank everyone who supported me on this adventure.  It was life changing and healing for me and so many others.  Thank you.

YWAM Ships Outreach Travel Ministry Mercy Jesus Friendship Islands Friendship Relationships God 

Is it a Video Game Now?

There is a phrase floating around the Christian church lately that I would like to discuss.  Or maybe it's an idea.  If so, it's a poorly thought out idea.  It's the idea of "Levels of freedom."  I hear it tossed around in charismatic circles, from pulpits, and at camps.  "We are gonna lead you into new levels of freedom."

The idea behind this phrase is that you are removing things in your life that are negative and holding you back from your full potential in Christ.  In other words, let go of your bitterness, your addictions, your fears, your shame etc etc...and you will be closer to God.  You will feel Him more and experience greater power in your walk with Him.

At first, this sounds lovely.  Who doesn't want to have power, and be on high "level" and live in close proximity to their savior?

I see a problem.  Or several.

The first is that by flippantly throwing out a phrase like the one above, you automatically create a hierarchy in the Christian faith.  People instantly feel that certain people in authority or in the spotlight have achieved a "higher level" than you.  It also provides a giant stumbling block for believers experiencing freedom to also experience pride.  It gives them the subconscious opinion that they are closer to God than other people.

I've totally fallen into that trap.  I experienced freedom from fear five years ago.  Three years later I had a massive pride issue that stemmed directly from that instance of "gaining a new level of freedom."

Another thing that doesn't work with this principal is that not all people have had the same experiences. A person who grew up in a happy loving home may be walking in forgiveness.  But what about the person who grew up in an abusive household?  What if forgiveness for them means pushing past the old and new wounds every single morning and begging God to let them forgive so they can have "freedom" so they can stop hurting for a second?  What makes a drug addiction worse than a coffee addiction?  And if you just read that and want to now give up coffee you missed the point.  And you'll just find another way to cope because life is hard no matter what.

I would propose to you that freedom is fluid.  It has nothing to do with "levels."  I would propose to you that based on peoples unique experiences, by inadvertently creating a hierarchy in the christian faith we do damage to people who feel they cannot get to the "next level" spiritually.

I see it in my mind as this lush green hill with big steps up to the top.  Each step is labelled.  Forgiveness, Fear, Addiction, blah blah blah...you get it.  And Jesus is at the top.  Each person is at the bottom, working their way up.  The people at the bottom level look admiringly up at the people on the next level while the people on the next level look down and smile condescendingly at the others.  "Here brother, let me give you a hand."

Do you see how this is rubbish??

Because in reality there's not a hill at all.  There's not even a road to say you're farther along.  It's a maze of jumbled up different life paths creating a giant knot of crisscrossing lives.  One person might be crawling through the muck weeping, while Jesus stops them for a minute to hold them and tell them to keep going because He's right there.  Someone else could be having a great day.  Everyone is happy and healthy and they're making loads of dough and it's all good yo.  And Jesus is right there.  Rejoicing because His child is happy.

So what's your story?  Are you hungry?  Are you afraid?  Are you grieving?  Are you feeling immeasurable amounts of joy?  Do you feel shame?  Perhaps you found freedom by being able to forgive.  But then you got hurt again and you're wrestling once again.

Christians.  I implore you think before you speak, especially if you are in the pulpit.  Think about what you are training other people to think and say.

No two people are the same.  So don't look down on a person who is struggling.  And don't compare yourself to the one with joy.

Focus on the fact that He's there.  Right now.  No matter what.  Life is hard.  If you love Him, you are free and free indeed.  No levels included.


Freedom YWAM Levels Missions Challenge Christians THINK LOVE Believe Judgment Jesus Faith

Of a Skeleton in My Closet

I've never talked about this.

Some people's high school experiences are full of proms and school and friends.  I praise my parents that they made an effort to give me that in spite of the circumstances.

This post is about judgement.

She moved in when I was thirteen.  A witty, generous, beautiful woman, with brown hair that went to her waist and crystal clear blue eyes.  The light kind.  The kind that laughed.  But she was sick.  

And for awhile it was fine.  But then it really wasn't.  

Oh how I judged her.  How I saw her flaws.  We took such good care of her, how could she hide herself in her room and cry all the time.  Didn't she want to be with her family?  Why was she so ungreatful?

Now, looking back, I remember her giving money to the homeless without fail.  Now I remember her style.  Now I think of the things she gave me.  Strength.  Boldness to think differently and live differently.  Where I saw depression then, now, I only remember her love.

Oh how I judged her.  I said she didn't know God.  But this woman prayed deep in her heart and loved powerfully.  

Some people's highschool experiences were full of like and parties and experimentation.  Mine was full of changing adult diapers and spoon feedings.

She was sad all the time.  

"Are you scared?"

Her perfect eyes filled and her lip quivered. 

"Yes."

I held her hand.  What do you say?  How do you say it's gonna be ok when it's not gonna be ok?  That you both know that in a few short months she'll be gone.

Her fear terrified me.  

I wish I'd known how wrong I was then.  To assume disgratitude for our kindness when in truth it was fear of the end.  How could I have been so insensitive?

You may have thought I didn't talk a lot in highschool.  You might have thought I was awkward and assumed it was cause I was homeschooled.  

I didn't talk or try to be outgoing to new people cause I was busy thinking about the death I was observing take place in the room next to me.  

But I felt your judgement keenly.

As she felt mine.  

This loving, beautiful, brave woman who loved deeply and didn't put up with other people's shit.  This woman who was wounded and frightened.  

I held her hand.  When she couldn't cry anymore.  And she'd chew carrots and spit them out cause her throat didn't work anymore.  Every day I held her hand.  And wept.  I needed to be home to hold her hand.

It happened when I wasn't home.  Having a social life.  I was eighteen.  

Resolutions are for New Years not Thanksgiving.  But I'm making one.  Let me never judge another person's heart.  I will suspend my judgement and try to see how they see, and feel how they feel.

Maybe then I can love how my Grandmother loved.

I Shall Not Want

As of right now I have only $20 towards my outreach fund.  We leave in two weeks.  I need a total of $4800.  

I really like my comfort zone.  I am very intimidated by new circumstances. 

This song is amazing.  Deliver me, Oh God, from all my fears, insecurities, and selfishness.

She is singing my heart.

Of God's Secrets

My family is really big into Christmas traditions, as I'm sure most families are.  We get milkshakes from Big Al's and drive around looking at lights, go to church Christmas Eve, draw names out of a hat for secret santa, and eat a lot of food on Christmas day.

Last year there was some debate amongst the Goddard clan, whether to continue in our tradions or chuck it all and go somewhere exotic the following year.

This is where the story gets interesting and God plays a little game with me.  You see I heard this conversation completely differently than the rest of my family did.

Dad:  "So I work with a guy who has a time share in Fiji and he offered to let us use it for Christmas this year."

Jill:  "What???  And you're telling us now?"

Jessica:  "No!  That would be horrible.  I like our traditions.  Christmas should be cold.  Not islandy."

Me:  "I kinda think it would be awesome.  I just wanna go somewhere outside of the U.S. for once."  Lord, that would be sooo awesome.  I wanna spend Christmas in Fiji next year.  

And so on and so forth went the debate.

Fast forward to September a week or two from my departure...

Jessica:  "Where are you going on outreach?"

Me:  "I don't know.  I mean probably some Islands.  Like Fiji.  Haha maybe I'll spend Christmas in Fiji after all."

Jessica:  "You mean Tahiti?  Dad said Tahiti."

Me:  "....You're totally wrong.  I swear he said Fiji."

Jessica:  "I know he said Tahiti because I'm scared of Fiji and would have thrown a fit."

Me:  "You DID throw a fit.  He said Fiji."

Enter Jillian.

Jessica:  "Jill, did dad say that his coworkers time share was in Fiji or Tahiti?"

Jill:  "Tahiti."

Me:  "WHAT??  There is NO way.  I swear I heard Fiji."

Enter Mark.  Repeat conversation.

Enter Dad.  Confirms that he did indeed say Tahiti.

How could I have gone a whole year thinking he had said Fiji??  What is wrong with me?

Fast forward to the night when our outreach locations are announced.  I knew in my heart Fiji would be one of them.  I was right.  We took ten minutes to pray about it and confirm it.  I remembered the conversation from the year before.  And I knew Fiji was my location.

There were so many people who signed up for the Fiji/ Line Island outreach that they made two teams. One team would start on Christmas Island and the other would start on Fiji, then we would switch.

Guess who is spending Christmas on Fiji?  That's right.  This kid.

I am still needing a lot of support for this portion of the trip.  If you feel led to support me you can give here:http://ywamships.net/give/

Thanks guys!

YWAM Fiji God Missions

Of Once Upon a Time, Grace, Actions, and Hampster Circles

What do you do on a Saturday when you slept wrong and can't turn your head?  You watch three episodes of Once Upon a Time cause you are a nerd and you miss your nerd sisters.  And then you read the book of Jonah, and somehow, weirdly, the two go together.

Once Upon a Time is the most Jesusy show I've seen on TV.  Sometimes they full on quote scripture, (this happened mostly in season one, and I don't remember the scripture, I just remember they quoted it.)  It's all about redemption, second chances, shame, saviors, lies, etc.  Even the evil people have depth as to why they are evil, and the "good" people aren't infallable.  The script and acting are both a bummer.  But the plot is fun.

I watched the Peter Pan episode cause Peter Pan is my favorite, and I was so sad afterwards because they made Peter be a super creepy kidnapper spirit ghostie guy and Captain Hook was kind of less evil than I like him to be.  Ugh.  Also, Wendy?  Maybe if a black spirit/ghost/shadow with glowing silver slits for eyes offers you his hand, probably don't take it...because...why?  That would be dumb.

But that's ok, because, like everyone else in the show you're human, and you get a second chance too.  Only now, the guy I was hoping would be Peter, gets sucked away by creepy ghostie and becomes your sacrifice.

The show in general started to go more karma focused and less redemption focused.  Like one bad deed gets negated by a good one, with the overall message that you redeem yourself.  Rubbish.  But then again I totally live my life that way and so do you.  So does everyone, because we are taught that good actions are rewarded and bad actions require punishment.  But then Jesus says he is love and there is no fear in love because fear involves punishment.  So He doesn't punish us.

This trips my brain out.  Because according to Jesus, we are set free from this mindset.  Good deeds are a good thing, and have good things come from them, but bad deeds go from punishment to natural consequences.  I always try to earn God's love and I always think in the back of my head that I'm going to hell if I don't do all the right things.  But I know that actually I've been redeemed, there is a thing called grace that I do not understand, and that His yoke is easy and His burden is light, and all I have to do is abide.

But then I just used the "do" word again.  Which is an action.  So actions are necessary for salvation?  Because abiding is doing.  Choosing Jesus is an action.  And yet I'm saved by grace not by works.  But what is a work?

And then there's Jonah!  Who gets sacrificed by some sailors to a giant fish so that he's the only one who has to drown.  How rude.  I really like how patient God is with Jonah.  He asks him all kinds of questions.  And Jonah clearly knows God.  Quite well, because he tells God that he knows that he is loving and slow to anger.  Clearly kinda taking advantage of the grace.  And he's not disappointed, God indeed does show grace to him, and to an entire nation.

I don't get it.  But I suppose I don't have to.  Maybe grace is too large a concept for my mind to grasp.  But freedom lies in the graspin of it.  So I'll just keep trying.  Which is still an action.  And then I start all over again!

And then when my brain has run in enough hampster circles, it's time to watch another episode.

Happy Weekend!

Of Wounds

I don’t know why it hurt so much this time around.  It’s happened before.  Maybe because I’ve been through hell and back then shamed for my “actions.”  Maybe because unless you’ve walked through it your thinking is bound to be only one dimensional.  Flat dimensions hurt people because they don’t allow room for understanding and empathy.  

There is, I think, a distinction in the love I have and the lust I was subjected to.  And yet they think one begets the other.  But even if there isn’t a distinction, I don’t think anything but beauty comes from ashes.  Don’t call this pearl trash because of the wound from which it comes.  Maybe they are swine and I shouldn’t have shown them in the first place.    

But anyway, this pain is exponentially worse than before.  In between panic attacks it aches in such a physical way as I’ve never known it to ache.  Like a gaping, bleeding, festering, rawness.  I can’t even describe to you the pain.  But I often hold my hand over it and weep, each pump pushing the tears out in a steady rhythm, as if the pain could be pumped out from my eyes.  Afterwards I’m sore from all the pumping.  And it feels like I ran a race and it is still trying to slow down.  Sometimes after climbing the stairs I need to sit down because this feeling in the physical and emotional combined makes me feel like I might faint.  

I think it’s getting better.  It started with moments.  Moments where I felt normal, not even peaceful, just normal.  Moments when I could smile.  Laughing made me feel like passing out.  And once I started I couldn’t control it and it would take over in hysteria and eventually become tears.

The moments slowly got longer.  Until they became days.  Some days I feel it four or five times for fifteen minutes at a time.  Some days I only feel it once.  Sometimes Jesus kisses me on the cheek and says, “We’re gonna get you healed.”  One time He said, “You need to be gracious with yourself.”  Then I began to be able to see people again.  In between the moments of fear and pain I could start to love again slowly.  

And I realized that sometimes there is peace that passes all understanding, and sometimes I just need to forgive myself for feeling terrible.  I can lay down and not perform and not talk and not be nice and not go to things I’m supposed to because I need to feel like shit for a minute.  I had to let go of the expectations I had for myself, so I could stop being a disappointment to myself.  And then I could realize that I’m not a disappointment to Him.

Then when I just allow myself the grace to feel it, I don’t.