The Canvas of God

You step into a room. It's your bedroom. Mentally note where your bed is, the dresser, maybe a desk, find the landmarks that make up this space. As you scan the room around you, you realize there's one thing out of place. It's not only large, but very bright as well and you wonder how you missed it to begin with. It's an easel, set up with a giant rectangular canvas. Someone has painted a beautiful picture of a vibrant blue sky, gentle white clouds are breaking up the summertime picture and across the center of this painting is one giant word. Painted in black, block letters it dominates your attention and draws you in. Not flashy by any means, but almost overbearing. The peaceful image of the sky offsets how demanding it is and seems to take your gaze from the sharp, abrupt edges of each letter. You take a couple steps closer, allowing yourself to enter your room now, being pulled towards this distinct image.

You stop in front of it and your heart starts to race with excitement. There's something here, you can feel it as the blood pounds through your body, reminding you of just how alive you are. Your breaths come a little bit faster and the slight pull you felt before becomes an overwhelming urge to simply bask in this appealing image, left here by... someone, for you to find.

The word is God and you are convinced you have found who you are in the shadow of the paintings image.

However, a small voice is whispering into your soul and while the painting is so distracting, and so appealing, you can't simply stand here. You follow the instructions of this gentle voice, and with a few hesitant steps, you walk around, and behind the easel.

Your closet door is open, and at first you're shocked to see all your clothes have been removed and there is nothing there. Only a dirty little square space, it's dark, and it's bare, and you realize why the painting was set up in the position it was, to hide this filthy little hole. No one would want to see that, it had to be covered by something. Something to grab your attention and keep your focus from what was hidden behind it.

The closet is you. The realization hits you like a freight train, and you stumble backwards, accidentally bumping the easel. Almost as if it's in slow motion, the easel and the precious painting it holds come crashing to the floor, revealing the inside of your closet to the world. Revealing who you really are. There's nothing you can do now, your cover has been ripped away, so you crawl, dejected and forlorn into your closet, and you sit on the floor. Knees clutched to your chest and head down. Shame. That is all you feel.

You've recognized the filth and shambles of this life you've been trying to lead and you cry out to this God you had so much hope in. Tears stream down your face as you realize you are broken and any sort of repair seems impossible.

Wait... wait, the still small voice is back. You lift your head and realize the light bulb hanging above you is glowing faintly and a peaceful calm settles over you. Jesus is here, sitting next to you, holding you in his arms. This place, this closet, with His presence it has changed. The light is growing stronger and shining from the cracks and open door. You no longer need this canvas to hide your heart. Jesus has changed who you are.

2 Corinthians 5:17 Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. 

Is This Faith or Am I Living in Denial?

I've decided if I were ever to write a memoir, it would probably share a title with this post.

Do you know those spiritual gift tests that you can take? You number on a scale of 1 to 5 how true or untrue the statement is for you, and then you tally everything up in the end and whichever one has the highest score is your spiritual gift. We've done those a lot in the office at work to discover our strengths. We do it mainly because my supervisor is amazing and realizes that while weaknesses do need to be worked on, you have the strengths you do for a reason and those can't be ignored. So, we score ourselves from 1 to 5, tally the numbers, and in the end I always find myself staring this spiritual gift of faith in the face.

At first I kind of laughed and shook my head. Sure, I have faith in my friends, I have faith that the pizza man will deliver a round pie of perfection after I make the right call, and I have faith in God. That's not what we're talking about though, a spiritual gift of faith. That's intense faith, serious business. No way. Not me.

God and I have a great relationship. He tells me something, I tell Him to tell me more about that, and then He does. Very slowly and subtly, sometimes I don't even realizing it's happening. In this case, He spoke to me through my past. He walked me through a timeline of my life and as I looked at that fun and adventurous road He simply asked, "at what point did you doubt Me?" 

I have doubted many things in my life, but God has never been one of them. I have built walls between us, and I even turned my back and tried to ignore Him for awhile, but I always knew He was there. I always knew that in the end, His hand was in my life and He was sovereign. I have never doubted that my God is real. I always had faith in God, but there was a time in my life I denied Him my heart. 

If you've ever spent any amount of time around my best friend and I, you may have heard us at some point use the phrase, "I'm fiiiiiine." We say it in a certain tone, drawing out the I, as if trying to convince ourselves that we will, indeed, be fine. We usually say it in situations when we will clearly not be fine. The main reason we picked this little habit up is due to the fact that we both like to push sticky situations to the side. As long as I don't have to deal with it, things will be fine. Right? Ignore irritating emotions and eventually I'll be fine. Right? We recognize that there really isn't much that can be done in some instances, so we decide to ignore the problem. It'll be fiiiiiine. So far, we've always been.... relatively fine. We're both still breathing, so we've got that going for us.

So, as I look down at this paper in front of me. This cute little Christian cliche of a spiritual gifts test, I realize that I will be fine. While I was saying those words in denial of a problem I didn't want to face, God pulled through in the end. While I deny the problem, I know that God is present. I have always known this.

Is This Faith, or Am I Living in Denial; a memoir. Look for it at your local bookstore... just give me a couple decades to live the kind of life I want to write about.

With Love,
Trishelle

Goodbye to Arthur

Here I am again, returned from Spring Break awhile ago, and into the full swing of life here at BGU. This last weekend we had our Campus Preview Weekend. We have a great host of prospective students come and stay with us so they can get a feel for what life on campus is all about. It's fun and exciting because you get to meet so many new people who have the same calling to missions as yourself. However, for introverts such as myself, it can also be exhausting. After two days of life back to usual, I'm just now starting to feel like myself again.

If you received my newsletter, you may have read about what happened with my car over Spring Break. If you did not receive my newsletter and would like to, you can add yourself to the mailing list  right here, right now.

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If you did not hear about what happened to my car, let me sum it up for you rather quickly. There was an unfortunate accident, and, well, you can see for yourself. My poor baby didn't fare so well. 

After several calls and discussions with insurance, they announced that it was a total loss. I cried. I cried a lot. I don't cry very often, but when I heard they couldn't fix my car I really, really cried. I loved my car. It wasn't just a set of wheels and a gas tank, his name was Arthur, and he was my partner in crime. We had some great adventures. 

I cried even more when I found out I would not be seeing any of the insurance money. While it was fully covered, I still owed money on the vehicle. This now meant I would no longer have my Ol' Faithful, but I would be completely without a car. 

If you are somewhat familiar with me, and who I am, in general, as a person, you may have noticed that I have a fairly strong independent streak that runs right through the center of my heart. I'm what some people might call a free-spirit, an adventurer, and I don't really need you to do my exploring. In fact, I really like doing it on my own. It's not that I don't like you, but going on adventures by myself is how I destress. It's a huge part of how I refocus my brain and keep myself moving in the right direction. 

Here's the thing though, when I decided to follow God and come to Minnesota, I gave Him one condition. "As long as I have a car. As long as I'll be able to keep my freedom." He didn't really have much to say in return, but I was able to get my car and happily headed off to the freezing tundra. 

God saw things I wasn't willing to recognize though. He saw a wall I'd placed around my heart, and He saw pride. Pride in a hunk of metal and four tires. He saw a girl who was willing to give it all... except for her "freedom." He saw this, and He knew that she would never be able to live the life He'd called her too if it wasn't addressed. Sometimes God speaks in a gentle whisper, reminding you of who He is, and what He would like to see from you. Sometimes, a car comes from nowhere and smacks your pride and joy, leaving it useless and forcing you take a step back and reexamine yourself.

I realized I needed to stop holding the idea of who I am in my car. My freedom and independence, my free-spirit, my solitary expeditious ways, that wasn't what mattered. What mattered was that I was holding all of that one level above the call I have in my life. I had conditions that needed to be filled in order for me to obey.

So, now I'm trusting Him to provide transportation. It has been a struggle for me, to ask other people for a ride, when I'm the one who is generally able to offer the rides. It's been a struggle to not be able to grab my keys and just go. It's been a struggle when I feel trapped in one spot. I'm struggling guys, but at the same time, I'm learning that my identity isn't within what car I drive, or where that car can take me. It's in what Jesus Christ did for me on calvary and how far this story of true love can take me. 

With Love, 

Trishelle

The Hardest Part

When I was preparing to leave for Minnesota, I had several people tell me to prepare for struggles. I was thankful for their warnings and advice, but see, here's the thing, they warned me against the wrong kind of struggles. They told me "it will be hard when you're sad because your friends won't be there to support you." They said, "your battle with depression will become more intense because you won't be around people you're comfortable with." They said, "when life doesn't go as planned, you won't be able to call the people you depend on to bail you out." 

I knew I would face struggles, and yes, I have, but not those ones. My friends have been there when I'm sad. Maybe not in person, but a cell phone is a wonderful thing and I know my support team is only a text or a call away. If one doesn't pick up, I can always call the next one. To be honest, my depression has almost vanished. It's amazing what seeking the Lord can do in your life. When once I felt lost and hopeless, now I feel fulfilled and more joyful then I have in years. I've had rough days, but nowhere near what I used to go through. As far as life not going as planned, I've made new friends. They will never take the places of those back home, but I'm sure they are just as capable of picking up an exhausted, emotional girl from the side of the road. When I find out for sure, I'll let you know, but I'm really not worried about it.

What nobody actually said before I left was "you'll want to cry when you can't be there for them." 

When I get a text telling me things have gone wrong, loved ones are in pain, doctors are involved, jobs may be lost. I want to cry. I want to cry because while I may not actually be able to do anything if I were there, I would at least be there, not 1,800 miles away just working on homework.

People told me it would be great, to have a fresh start. They acted like I would be set free, no longer having to worry about my near and dears. They were blind. When you love someone, you want to be close to them. You want to stand by their side and make sure they're getting the best care possible. You want to be able to hold them when they cry out in pain because if they have to be in pain, at least you've got them. They were blind to what love is. 

At this point, all I can say is, the Lord is teaching me the power of prayer. I may not be able to stand present in times of need, but God is always present and He hears my cries of protection over those I love and miss. 

With Love,
Trishelle

Please, Please, Let Me Love You

We, Americans, live in a culture where people are always rising to defend others. They want society to know that it's okay if you love cats, and it's okay if you love dogs. It's okay if you like to bike, or snowboard, or skateboard. It's okay if you like black, but if you like yellow, that's alright too. Introvert, or extrovert? Both are good. Do you like to stay inside and read, are you a geek, or a nerd? It's all good. Some of us are vegetarians, and some of us like steak. Don't worry, both of you are accepted. Do you like the cold, or thrive in the sun? Whichever you choose is excellent. Coffee is good, but tea is good too. Muslim, hindu, atheist, agnostic, buddhist, you're all okay.

I am a christian. 

That's not okay.

I get it, I really do. I've been hurt by people who have claimed that title as well. I've seen their hypocritical ways. I've watched them tear people down. I've heard them lie through their teeth. I know. 

Please, please, let me tell you. They are not christians. The meaning of christian is "to be Christ-like," and even if you don't believe the Bible was truly inspired by God, you at least know that Jesus Christ was known as a good man. A kind man. A loving man. A man who cared for others more than he cared for himself. Here's the thing, and please stay with me, I could spend all day telling you I'm a fish, but when you look at me you don't see scales. You don't see gills. You don't see fins. No matter how much I tell you I'm a fish, you won't believe me, even if I'm convinced of it myself; that's not what you see. Don't you think there are people who can knock on your door and say the word christian, and be wrong?

We're a culture of not setting stereotypes, and yet for years I have feared stepping forward and saying the words "I am a christian." I was afraid, because I knew I would be put into a category I didn't want to be a part of. I didn't want to be seen as the one who brings the Bible to you and proceeds to force it down your throat. I didn't want you to see me as the one who would turn away from you because you did something the Bible teaches against. I didn't want to be seen as someone of judgement, instead of someone with love. 

Here I am, begging you, do not put me in that box with the other "christians" who have hurt you. Let me love you. Let me walk beside you and show you what the word Christian really means. When I fall, recognize that it's not because I have a Bible, but because I forgot to open it. When you ask me for advice, or my opinion, expect real and honest answers, but know that even if it's not the answer you wanted, I still love you. I am still here for you. I still care about you, even if I don't agree with you. If you want to know why, I will gladly tell you, but be prepared to hear the answer.

I love you, because Christ loves me. 

With Love,
Trishelle

Journal Entry; 2-19-2016

What if you suddenly changed?
     What if all at once your world turned upside down, and what if it wasn't in the bad way, but the way that made you want to run around and tell everyone? To the point that they thought you were completely crazy, but that's okay because you already know you're acting like someone who has gone completely insane.
     Like you're drunk on something wonderful; because you've been drunk on hard liquor before and it's never been beautiful.
     You're running around like a lunatic, but it's okay because you know you've found your home. Not home like, where mama cooks supper on Sunday nights, no, this is a comfort so deep it was born into you. Like cherokee blood, or your daddy's small ears.
     It's always been apart of you, but you had no idea till someone told you.
     You are home; and as you fall into the warm embrace of overwhelming love, it's as if a switch has been flipped. The light has come on and you now realize you've been here all along. Here, in the arms of your Father.

With Love,
Trishelle

The Moment Your Nose Hairs Freeze

I think we all knew that a post about the cold was coming. Anyone who has known me over a good course of time would be able to tell you I'm not a fan of any temperature below 50 degrees. I like warmth, I like the sun, I like country music blaring when my windows rolled down. I like ice in my coffee, and sunbathing on the river bank. I'm a summer child.

Then I moved to Minnesota. 

Before I made the (almost) 2,000 mile cross country drive, I handled the idea of moving to the north in one way. I didn't think about it. When I did I just kept telling myself that I would adjust. Bring enough layering pieces and all would be well. 

My first weekend in Minnesota really wasn't that bad. In fact, the temperature here was warmer than it was back home, which I found fairly ironic. This quickly changed however and very suddenly there was a whisper (it was more like screams, wails, and gnashing of teeth) throughout the dorm. Something akin to, "it's going to be -11 degrees tomorrow."  

I did what my best friend has taught me to do over the last couple of years when I'm unsure about something, which was shrug and say "it'll be fiiiiiiiiiiine," then promptly escort the thought out of my mind. 

Right up until I stepped outside and the hair inside my nose promptly froze. I don't know, dear reader, if you've ever had the opportunity to experience frozen nose hair. At first, you don't exactly realize that's what's happened because you're too focused on the fact that your face is in pain, simply from exiting the building. Somewhere, however, in the midst of wondering why anyone lives in a place where being outdoors causes pain to your face, you sniff once, maybe twice... and then three times. When the realization hits you that the hair INSIDE your nose has stiffened and hardened due to the cold, you really begin to rethink your life choices. Why Minnesota? 

Going to a missions school, I guess it would be expected that I learn a lot about the bible, and religion, and prayer, and I guess I have been learning a lot in those areas, but there are two main lessons I've learned about God in the last couple of weeks. 

1. He is strategic 
2. He has a great sense of humor

Bethany was founded in 1945 by five families who sold everything they had and moved into a 30 room house which they called "Bethany House." The house was in Minneapolis. Now, there are several reasons I think God thought this would be a suitable location for what He knew would grow into something so much bigger, but I think He really must have smiled to Himself when He put it in Minnesota. 

I think He was smiling because He knew 71 years later, an Oregonian girl with a summertime heart, would step out of her dorm room, her nose hairs would freeze, and she would proceed to converse with Him. 

"Why Minnesota God?"
 
"Why not Minnesota?"

"It's freezing. My face hurts because it's so cold." 

"You knew it would be cold, yet you still came." 

"You asked me to." 

He didn't answer, but I know, I just know, He smiled to Himself.


With Love,
Trishelle