I Drank My Coffee Black: Lessons From the Portland Journey

I'm writing from Blue Kangaroo, a coffee shop near my home in SouthEast Portland. As I sip on my medium roast, I reflect on how the Lord has been changing my heart over these past few months; the cup in my hand really speaks to the issue.

When I moved to Portland, I greatly disliked coffee. In my stubborn pride, I looked in disdain at every cup all these Portlanders drank. That stuff was bitter and wasn't to my liking. So was tea. And I told people so. 

Then one day in October, I was standing in line at a Starbucks waiting to get coffee with a student and I randomly felt like the Holy Spirit told me to get a mocha instead of my typical hot cocoa.  I didn't want to, but the next thing I knew, I'd paid the cashier for a mocha with soy and I was sitting at my table with my undesired beverage. My student had heard me order and was on the verge of a heart attack from the excitement of me finally learning to drink coffee. I tried it. It wasn't bitter. It actually....wasn't all that bad. 

Weeks turned into months and slowly I began to wean myself off the sweeter coffees until last week when the moment of truth came. Sitting with that same non-believing student, I drank my first whole cup of black coffee. And it was delicious! She asked me what had made me change my mind. The Spirit brought my coffee journey full circle as I had opportunity to speak freely about Jesus through these two things I've learned:

1. Bitter isn't always bad.

Neither is a gray cloudy sky. Or rules. Or even death. Each of these contrasts their opposite: sweetness, sunshine, grace, life. Without them, we wouldn't have a proper knowledge of the world and our blessings. And with them, we get to experience new dimensions of the fullness of joy He has for us here. Bitterness adds new possibilities for our tastebuds. Gray has so many beautiful shades and turns the Willamette river silver. Rules create a framework for organized living. And death can finalize a life well lived and usher a redeemed child into the Presence of God. 

2. Love must be relevant.

Until a couple of weeks ago, quite a few precious brothers and sisters in Christ had tried to get this across to me (you know who you are--THANK YOU), but I had such an attitude, I couldn't see the truth the Lord was literally screaming through them, trying to get my attention.  Then on March 1st, Ken, Joshua, and I went to Seattle for a conference on how to better reach international students. One of the speakers said:

 "Don't look at your international students as a group of people who need charity or pity because they didn't grow up in the U.S. Praise God they didn't grow up here! They have a different and unique world view; God has given you an incredible opportunity to learn by bringing the diversity of His heart right to your community. Humble yourself. Learn. And love AFTER you learn about the ways they connect to God. To try to teach them God from your worldview alone is futile; you want them to be able to not only grasp and accept Jesus as their Savior but to be able to carry Him back to their cultural contexts." 

The Lord used that comment to shake some sense into me. And it hadn't just been in international ministry that I'd expressed the "they just have to get used to the way I love" mentality. It had manifested itself many places, even with people from my own childhood culture. Sometimes love looks like a cup of coffee, that I've learned to actually enjoy, along with this cultural context I'm learning to call home. Sometimes love looks like eating grape leaves diped in olive oil and vinegar with a smile for the sake of the gospel even if a piece of me is dying with every chew; it looks like trying it again...and again...because I refuse to be hindered in ministry because my tastebuds are trying to run my life. Sometimes love means learning to appreciate video games so I can connect with my students who love them. Sometimes love is staying out of someone's bubble because they are not a hug person, even though I am. It's not about how I feel or what I want. If I desire to encourage, sometimes I need to first stop throwing up discouragement on them by my complaining, and then begin to listen to find how to build them up. Love can't be demanded, manipulated, or used. If I'm truly seeking to love them, it's not about me--it's about them and it's about Jesus.

It is my desire that as we walk our separate journeys, the Lord will grow us all in these areas of faith. I pray that I will continue to be open to His changing my heart, as I know I still have a long way to go in learning to love like Jesus. 

For love seeks not her own. 

Lord, let it be true. 

And begin in me. 

Maybe I should tackle green tea next...

No Longer a Southerner

My world was swirling as I walked through Hartsfield-Jackson; I was excited to be home for the holidays, but it was all a little overwhelming, really. No one told me about reverse culture shock. 

As I greeted and interacted with others, I realized that the sheer amount of physical touch was an envasion of the personal space I had somehow acquired in the NW. I spoke things more directly than everyone and felt rude by the GA standards that had raised me. Restaurants didn't have an automatic non-dairy option. Someone made a joke about hipsters and another person slighted people not from the South, and I found myself offended. "Those are people whom I love!" I wanted to scream. People assumed I would feel the same way they did about people outside Southern culture, and I didn't. I don't. I've changed. 

I love other cultures, different as they may be from my childhood. I love hipsters. I love Asians. I love Muslims. I love Southerners. 

When I first moved to Portland, I was determined to learn to like Portland culture. "That is what good missionaries do," I thought. So I set off to teach myself. However, cultures clash. Therefore, as I noted the points of Portland culture I needed to learn to like, I also noticed how different they were from the Southern culture I loved and claimed as my own. And I played the comparison game, which was hurtful for my relationships with several people in Portland because in my attempt to love culture, I forgot about the people who operate within in. 

But now as I step back and see things from this perspective, I begin to see what it means to love as Jesus. People-loving results in culture-loving, but culture-loving does not people-loving make. Culture is only part of a person so even if I were to love that culture perfectly, I would only be loving part of the person. But culture is a part of a person so if I love them unconditionally, I love the culture they bring along on our journey together. 

For example, Jenny is not a girl from China whose culture I need to love. No. Jenny is a friend who happens to love eating Thai food, teaching me Chinese words I can never remember, and telling me about Bejing. And I love all of those things because I love her. 

And, with the help of friends who've walked this culture shock journey before, I'm realizing it's the same with me. 

I'm no longer a Southerner. 

I'm not a wannabe Portlander.

I'm just Miriam. 

I'm just a person who loves all people because Jesus first loved me. This world is not my home. And may I never boast in anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ by whom the world has been crucified to me and I to the world. For neither circumcision nor uncircumcision (cultural differences and norms) mean anything; the only thing that matters is a new creation! (Gal 6:14-15)

A new creation by Christ Jesus. 

This is my story, my identity, my life. 

So... Hello, GA! It's good to see you, but you're not better than OR. Neither is OR better than you. You're both places filled with people whom I love. Forever and always. 

The Joy of a Broken Hallelujah

I listened closely to the words of the song "Hallelujah" though I never had really paid attention before. A phrase stuck out to me clearly. "Love is not a victory march; it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah."

Sometimes in life we do stupid things. Sometimes they are completely accidental but they still worry others. Yesterday was one of those days. I messed up directions while hiking; the girls and guys decided to hike at a different pace and meet at the top, but we girls took the wrong trail. Joshua and Tyler couldn't get a hold of me or Jenn and Kim, the two girls with me, and thought we were hurt, kidnapped, or dead. Meanwhile, we were happily enjoying our hike, the views, and each other's company. We weren't lost, persay, but we weren't on the correct trail, either. When we got back in range for good service, we called Joshua, who we quickly learned was very worried, had spent a while searching for us, and was about to send park rangers after us. 

When I heard he was worried, I braced myself for anger, too. I braced myself for a lecture on how to do it better next time. I braced myself to feel dumb. Instead, when we met back up with him and Tyler, they were so relieved. When I tried to apologize, he said, "No. I should have never left you. And I'm just glad you are okay." 

His response rocked my world.

As I pondered his response and heard the words to "Hallelujah" last night, I realized that I have had a flawed view of God. I tend to assume that when I mess things up I should brace myself. When in reality, He extends that same kind of grace to my soul, and I do not need to fear.

"Love is not a victory march; it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah." 

The line stuck out to me because Joshua's unconditional care wasn't because I did all the right things and won victoriously. It was in that brokenness (when I'd messsed up) that he still showed compassion and "sang an hallelujah" over us formerly "lost" hikers. No "I told you." No anger. No humilitation. Just this unconditional care for our well-being despite ourselves. 

It's called Grace. 

You know, Someone Else "sang an hallelujah" over me one other time when I was lost. Jesus sang a "cold and broken hallelujah" over us at the cross. He set aside His victory-march-against-Rome-ready crown and died in my place. The King of kings rejoicing over me through the pain with singing.

It's called Grace. 

 

And this got me to thinking. Do I, in turn, sing a broken hallelujah over others? When various non-Christian students here showcase their brokenness, do I dwell on the annoyance it may cause me or the wrongness of their actions?  Or do I "sing an hallelujah" over them? When my Christian brothers and sisters fail, do I sing or scoff, bless or break, give grace or grief?

I want to sing more often. To praise the Lord for them and be grateful for the ways that they challenge me and the opportunties being among them brings for the furtherance of the gospel. I might not be perfect while I'm doing it, but I will offer my own brokenness to the Ultimate Hallelujah Singer. 

He is Gracious, indeed. Hallelujah!

When Life Feels Like Heart Surgery

Allow me to share a piece of truth with you: missionaries are FAR from perfect. 

These past two months in Portland have felt like one long continual process of open heart surgery. Without anesthesia. Through this journey, the Lord has revealed so many things about my heart and given me constant ways I need to change in order to be able to reveal Christ in me in this place. I would like to share seven with you. 

#1: Complaining, even disguised as conversation about culture shock, brings resentment. There is a reason Philippians 2:14-16 enourages us to "do all things without complaining or arguing so that you may become blameless and pure children of God without fault in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation among whom you shine as lights in the world, holding fast the word of life." I have struggled through culture shock in this place, but instead of taking those cares and casting them upon the Lord and bringing an offering of thanksgiving for this place, I have often been caught comparing life here to life in GA. While GA is a pretty cool place, I have had to come to grips with the fact that Oregon is just as cool of a place and THIS is where God has me in this season. I am called to be all in HERE. He is working in and through me HERE. Just because Oregonians don't do life the same doesn't mean that their culture doesn't give me something to praise God for HERE. When people see me constantly comparing OR to GA but then they hear me say that I believe God called me here, they hear me say that I am not content with God's choices, that I don't trust Him to choose what is best, that I am challenging their upbringing here as not as good as mine. Though this has not been my intention, I have had to learn these things the hard way. 

#2: Listening to others' advice and Biblical wisdom is key to success. Early on in my time here, Joshua told me I needed to stop comparing OR to GA. Had I humbled myself and quit being stubborn long enough to listen, I could have avoided a lot of the things I am having to go back and fix now. Very reflective of Proverbs 11:2: "With pride comes shame, but with the humble is wisdom."

#3: Students are people and friends--NEVER ministry projects. One thing is super clear in all of our records of Jesus' life. Everyone He met was a person made in the image of God, and He treated them as such. Never were people projects to fix or challenges to conquer. I am not the focus of ministry.  My success is not the point of ministry. "So then neither he who plants is anything, nor he who waters, but God who gives the increase."  (I Cor 3:7)

#4: The heart is deceptive, and if I don't watch my motives, I will get off track. We don't really always know what our hearts are saying. "The heart is decietful above all things and desperately wicked; who can know it? I, the LORD, search the heart; I test the mind..." I have been learning throughout my time here that building friendships with people has to be a heart-searching process. It can't be about self, manipulation, control, or fulfillment of desire. It has to be about Jesus, about selfless, honest, and purity-focused love, and about vulnerable, grace-and-truth-filled compassion. 

#5: Fighting for people's trust means I have to be trustworthy. Trustworthy equals vulnerability, patience, and pure motives. Trust is not just allowing others to see my heart; it is just as much allowing them to show me theirs in their time. I can't force someone to give me the puzzle pieces of their life. Trust isn't something I earn for doing all the right things; it's not a math problem. Trust is a gift. 

#6: "You have to make worldly friends in order to see them become godly friends." Faith, my spiritual mama here in Portland, shared these words with me yesterday and they hit home with me. It's easy to want to walk away from uncomfortable conversations here because living in a culture with values so different from what I am used to, those conversations abound. But I am learning to instead love, pray, and listen through them. If I want people to share their real lives with me, I must be willing to listen to their real lives and share from my real life--struggles and all. 

#7: I can't ride on what I've believed since childhood; I have to know the reason AND be able to explain it. Colossians 4:5-6 tells us to "Walk in wisdom toward those who are outside, redeeming the time. Let your speech be always with grace, seasoned with salt, that you may know how you ought to answer each one." So often I have floated on the "always with grace" part of that verse; in a Southern context, where more people are familiar with the Bible as a result of geographical "Bible-belt" culture, sometimes that is enough. But here it is most definitely not. I have been challenged both by students and by Joshua as he encourages me through and walks alongside me in situations and conversations with students to know the reasons. This is a slow growth process that has been put on steriods in my life recently because the culture requires that I know and that I can explain. 

Even though these past two months have been the most overwhelming and adjustment-filled of my life, I am grateful that He continues to work in me. Through it all, He is proving Himself Faithful in this place. An update of that nature still to come! 

Faithful through the Pain

As many of you know, these past weeks have held a myraid of emotions and struggle.  Von Rogers, one of my campus ministers through college and one of the campus ministers who mentored me last year, discovered that she had Hodgkin's Lymphoma in early June; though she tried very hard to fight through chemo, she went on to live in our sweet Savoir's presence on Monday, October 21st. 

These past few weeks have been a battle for me. The classic question of "Why does God take good people and leave the evil?" has been playing through my mind and heart. This is the first death of someone close to me where I've been far enough along in my faith to wrestle with the Lord and be honest with Him about my struggle. 

As I have sought answers this past week and a half, the Lord has continuously shown His power. Simply saying, "I'm way beyond what you can comprehend." This morning I finally found what I've been searching for in two scriptures that I would like to share with you all. 

The first is Job 9:12-16: 

"If He takes away...who can say to Him, "What are you doing?"

Yes. Hard as that is to accept, YES. 

Because He is a past-finding-out kind of God. 

The second scripture passage is Psalm 78:34-35: 

Through this scripture passage, the Lord showed me how Von's death has ultimately driven me to His presence like I haven't been driven in a long time. In a sense, God has used not only Von's life to impact me spiritually but her death as well. He has used it to remind me once more how much my heart longs for Him, how much I need Him, how much He has to be my EVERYTHING on this road of campus ministry. 

Von was my college Mama Junior and Senior year; her faith showed me the reality of Christ when I was struggling with my own faith.  She was with me when I realized that campus ministry was God's call on my life. She was my mentor and co-leader as I led my first missions trip with students. She was the one who first heard about my dreams and then who later looked up pictures of PSU with me to find the dreams were true. She was the first person to say she wanted to be a supporter. She always seemed to text me that she was praying for me about EXACTLY what was going on that day, even if I hadn't previously told her; she listened to the Spirit. And now, even though she cannot be physically be with me, she has sped me into my Father's presence once more. 

Thank you, sweet Von. I love you. You will always impact me. 

Thank You, Abba. I love You. You are too kind. You truly do things past finding out. 

Forever Amen and Amen.   

To Be A Little Different

The crazy people were in the Park Blocks today. And by "crazy people", I don't mean the mentally instable. I mean these people--

Some of you might be thinking, "That's awesome! They are acting unashamed of their faith and preaching the gospel on the streets." 

But no. Quite the opposite. Because Portland doesn't know Christianity as Jesus. Portlanders know Christianity and Jesus as "the crazy people-haters." Portlanders are well aware of these people and their tactics. Portlanders' responses are not interest or heart-change. Their response is either walking past quickly or yelling back openly. And the street preachers' responses to such are no better; they fall to faulty arguments and sweeping generalizations and treat people with no respect. 

The Park Blocks are public green space that runs down the middle of campus. As public property, they are a free speech area. Many different groups come to rally their cause. As I walked into the Park Blocks this afternoon and saw and heard the ruckus, my heart was saddened. I meandered in and out of the crowd, talking with students. "What do you think of what that guy is saying?" I would ask. Then patiently listen as they spat out anger and bitterness. Afterward, I would be able to share with them about the life Jesus brought me--not just death and judgment. Death is Satan's thing: judgment is God's thing. Life, through His mercy, is my thing.  My job is to share hopeful truth. And my desire is to share through meaningful, respectful relationships with those who want answers. But I don't have answers. It is tempting for me to get out my spiritual hammer and nail people by telling them all the things they are doing that aren't right. But I'm learning that always backfires, and I end up hitting my own fingers. I'm just as imperfect, only I have the Spirit living within me to give me life. It's all Him. Not me. 

As I talked with people in the crowd, I met Macy and Jared, Josh and David--all students who needed Jesus. Each of them left me with the comment, "You are a different Christian." I thought back to one of my first conversations with my agnostic roommate in which she made the comment. "We were worried you were going to be like the people in the Park Blocks. We thought you were going to be weird. But you're a different kind of weird than we thought." 

How are you being "a different kind of weird" in your cultural context? I would love to hear your stories! 

A Glimpse of Need

It is so, so good to finally be making a post from the City of Roses! Hello from Portland! 

The past few days have held many little conversations, new directors' training, friendship building, and campus exploring so we can know where we are. Students will begin moving in on Saturday. I move into my dorm on Monday. Though I absolutely LOVE my host family, I cannot wait to be on campus! 

Today Joshua and I explored the inside of several buildings. One of the rooms we discovered was the meditation/prayer room. Going there was the most sobering part of my day. Around the room, there were various meditation stations. Many of the tables included notecards where students could ask questions or post their spiritual thoughts. As I read them, the Spirit was so sad within me yet so glad. Sad because of the deep lostness that saturates this campus like no where I've ever been. Glad because I have the Truth and a mouth and hands and feet to share it with! How much confirmation of my call these provided!

I took pictures of some of the cards so you can get a feel for some of the lostness as well. These are just a few; there were 100+ more notecards like these. I only saw 2 that actually spoke truth. Please join me in praying over these precious, confused ones!