Rising from the Ashes

“A strange thing just occurred to me – I don’t think I actually know how to even relate to women.” This is how my journal entry began April 27^th last year.

I was in the middle of Captivating by Stasi Eldredge, and the passage had begun to explore the idea of what it meant for women to be alluring, inviting, lovely, gentle. (P.S. To those of you who read my Rak Pak blog, this is where my journey on “gentle” began).

What I knew is this: I can tear apart an entire washer and find which part is messing up just from watching youtube videos, and then put it all back together again and make it work. Because my mom taught me there is nothing I can’t do if I just put my mind to it. I am resourceful. I am independent. When it comes to running bases, I may not be the fastest, but I will beat the ball there 9 times out of 10. Because my coaches taught me that you don’t have to be the best to win, you just have to work the hardest and know how to put your knowledge to use. I am analytical. I am fierce. If a friend is in need, I will be the first one to step up and into the line of fire for them. Because they taught me what it was like to be wholly and unconditionally loved, before I even knew who Jesus was. I am devoted. I am loyal.

But somewhere in the wounds of my past, where my days were filled with building walls to protect my heart, when I barely had the strength to get through each day let alone learn how to love others well, in the days I spent merely just trying to tread water, to survive – I forgot how to live. And I forgot who I was.

I realized that in my defensiveness, I had buried all the things He had set before me to be. But more tragically, I had buried the unique qualities within me that bared His image to the world.

“You are a woman. An image bearer of God. The Crown of Creation. You were chosen before time and space, and you are wholly and dearly loved. You are sought after, pursued, romanced, the passionate desire of your King. You are dangerous in your beauty and your life-giving power. And you are needed.”

Could this be true?

My heart suddenly began to break. It broke for the little girl still inside me who had to grow up so much faster than she ever should’ve had to, who believed her worth was only in what she could do for others, who consistently did everything she could to hide her needs and desires to avoid causing waves and in turn more pain. It broke for the teenage girl deep down in my bones whose heart had been filled with so much rejection and lies, who felt broken beyond repair with no place to turn, and no one she could trust with her heart. It broke for the woman I had become and every other woman I knew whose life had been hard and lonely and nothing close to her dreams. Tears began to flow for every woman and child on this earth that didn’t believe these words with a fiery passion deep down to her core.

But it wasn’t until much later that I realized that God used this to break my heart, because He wanted to use me to do something about it.

Enter training camp, October 2018. One of the hardest, most emotional, and lifechanging two weeks of my life. It was gender retreat day, the guys were off on their man hike and the girls of R squad were beginning to gather around in a circle in the middle of the worship center. Megan, our squad mentor, handed us each a piece of paper, which held on it a serious of questions. My heart skipped a beat as I read down the list. On this paper held a type of “have you ever…” questionnaire, which if answered truthfully, would reveal the deepest secrets in my heart. My mind was racing. I’m standing in a room full of missionaries in training, checking off almost every “yes” on the page, shaking at the realization of the feeling of how “unqualified” I was for this life. I knew I had two choices though, I could take the “safe” route, and just check the boxes that were the “more acceptable sins” (spoiler alert: there’s no such thing – to God sin is sin, there are no bronze/silver/gold sin levels, for they all separate our hearts from His). I could let shame win. Or, I could choose the route that absolutely petrified me, the route that meant living out vulnerability, sisterhood in these women, freedom from the shame of my past. And so I marked all the boxes with the pen sliding through the sweat of my fingers, and handed over my list of failures, with fear ripping at my heart. The leaders mixed all the papers together and then began distributing them back out. No names, no identity to this mystery person whose darkest secrets I now held in my hand, but it didn’t take me long to realize something that would forever change my life from that moment forward… on this paper, they looked just like me. In fact, as we began to read the list aloud and each person began to step forward out of the group to signify a “yes” for the life they now held in their hands, I realized that more of the heart’s surrounding me in this room looked like mine, than did not.

I could feel my heart breaking all over again. All of these people who seemed to have it all together, many who went to church their whole lives, who worked so hard to make all of the “right” choices, women I felt could never identify with my hurricane of a past, were struggling with so many of the same things as I myself was. How was this possible? What has the church, the world, been doing so wrong all this time, that has left an entire generation of women so lost, so broken, so torn down? I couldn’t believe my eyes. I suddenly had the urge to wrap every single one of them in the biggest hug imaginable and tell them how beautiful and loved they were.

I went to bed that night with the weight of that moment still so very heavy on my heart. So, when I was browsing the merchandise store after breakfast the next morning and came across a shirt that said “Her Story Matters,” I knew I had to buy it. I didn’t really know why, but I knew there was power behind these words, and a fire was beginning to stir in my soul at the site of them. As I walked away from the checkout line, I realized on the back were the words “Beauty For Ashes.” I had no idea what this meant, but I loved the shirt nonetheless, so I shrugged it off and soon forgot about it. As I walked into session a bit later, a girl from another squad, who I had never even spoke with before, stopped me and smiled. “I know this is probably weird, and crazy random, but what do you do back home?” “I’m a nurse, why?” I replied. “I don’t really know, I just thought you were maybe a journalist or something. Have you ever thought about being one? If you haven’t, I think you should. I think you were meant to tell women’s stories.” Confused by what brought this comment on, so many questions began to form on the edge of my lips, when suddenly I heard the worship music signaling the sound of session starting and we both quickly found our seats. I brushed off the conversation and it wasn’t long before I had once again forgotten all about it.

That was, until the next afternoon, where I would get the answers to these questions I never got to ask, and so many more. That day for breakout session, we were given a list of classes covering various topics in which we could choose to attend. My eyes immediately jumped to the class labeled “Teaching Children’s Ministry,” because as just about anyone knows, I have always had such a huge passion for working with kids so there was seemingly no question in my mind that this is where I wanted to be. As I headed down the hill to the building where the class would be held, one of my teammates came up beside me. “Which ministry are you going to? Will you come to the women’s class with me? I feel like everyone is either going to children’s or worship, and I really want to check this out, but I don’t want to be the only one from our squad there.” I was hesitant, but after the events of the last few nights, I decided I wouldn’t mind at least tagging along and learning, at the very least, a little bit more about how to love these women around me in the best way that I could.

As we walked into the doors of the classroom, I was immediately taken aback. Up on the screen at the front of the room, read the words, “Beauty For Ashes.” I was suddenly intrigued to figure out what these words were all about.

The lesson was beautiful, and the program, even more so. I couldn’t get enough of the idea of empowering women through the stories they’ve lived, and what the sisterhood we had learned about the night before, would mean for so many of the women in our communities back home if we chose to live this power out every day. I loved the idea, but had no intention of taking it any further than improving my relationships with the women in my family and on my team. After all, I barely even know how to relate to other women most days, how could I ever be qualified to teach them?

That night during our wrap up session, one of our leaders tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to step outside with them. I was so confused at what this could possibly be about, but politely followed them out the door. “We have prayed a lot about this, and are so happy to invite you to be our Women’s Ministry coordinator.” “You would WHAT??!” I screamed to myself. He chuckled as he took one look at my face and knew this was something I hadn’t even considered. “You don’t have to say yes, but I want you to pray about it before you say no, because something tells me God has a huge purpose for you through this.” My mind immediately flashed back to what the girl had said about telling women’s stories, and then back home to my little sister, and her group of friends who I have come to love like sister’s as well, and I couldn’t help but think what it would mean for them if I was able to live out this life, empowering women instead of tearing them down, and intentionally creating community and sisterhood, in front of them. What if together we could break the cycle? What if these girls could grow up knowing a different truth? What if they, and every other girl, could know how loved they are, and be able to live in the freedom and power that their story, and their life, has?

Within seconds I knew, this is what God had for me, and that something immensely beautiful was going to come out of this “yes.”

So with that, I was named Beauty for Ashes coordinator, (along with one of the sweetest people I have ever met, my squadmate Jessica Z. – or JayZ as we call her). What this means exactly for us is a little hard to explain, but very simply put, our job is to coordinate women’s retreats all over the world to empower women to tell their stories, to choose sisterhood, and to live in the freedom/love/and forgiveness that the Lord has in store for them.

The fruit that has come from this ministry already, both at home, and out on the field has absolutely blown me away. This ministry has changed my life, and so many others, more ways than I even have words for. I never in a million years would have chosen it, but I couldn’t be more sincere in saying that I am so insanely excited that God chose ME for IT. I can’t wait to share with you all about all the lives that are transformed by this program over this next year, you all are in for an incredible ride!!!

1. ^st) so if you love the idea of what we’re doing here, or have enjoyed any of my pictures, I ask that you prayerfully consider clicking on the orange button up above labeled “donate,” so that I am able to continue to stay here in Africa with my team and love on this beautiful community. This story is just getting started, but I can’t keep it going without your help!