Day 2 on Kilimanjaro presented challenges I was not mentally or physically prepared for. As the trees began to dwarf in size, the rainforest faded into the distance like stars in the early morning sky. We were entering the moorlands. The sun became an unwanted companion, blistering the skin with each passing minute. Steep hills and large rocks to climb over came between me and my next sleep. After about a third of the hike, I had nothing left. I was physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually depleted. I sat on a rock and cried for what felt like an eternity. I began praying, well, more complaining to God. What had I gotten myself into? I thought I was here for a purpose, but why not tell me?

At that moment, I heard a subtle whisper, so clear and distinct, specifically for me.

“Emma, I’m going to break you.”

He let me sit in that moment and wrestle with the idea of more pain before I heard again,

“I’m going to break your will, but I promise to renew your spirit.”

As we continued to walk, and as I dwelled on these words, my daypack was almost forcibly removed from my back. I was tired, but I didn’t want to ask for help. My guide saw that and insisted on helping me.

Lesson #1 – learn to receive support from others. As the day continued, I was physically depleted but slowly, gently, almost unnoticeably, spiritually filled.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for the Kingdom of God is yours.” Matthew 5:3

This verse took on a new meaning as I continued dragging my feet along the path. I had nothing, but Jesus continuously reminded me that he is my everything.

Finally, after climbing 3 or 4 mini mountains, we had our first view of camp. Seeing the little orange and green tents speckle the horizon was such a relief, and it meant we had finally made it to a well-deserved break and bowl of vegetable soup! There was nothing extraordinary about the soup we were served at dinner, but I found myself craving it throughout the day. Each night it was a different soup – carrot, potato, onion, leek, celery – and each night it tasted the same. It became a reward for every new goal I set – if I make it to camp, I get soup!

Unfortunately, I tasted the soup twice this day. A mixture of overexertion from a challenging climb and possibly a little bit of corn caused my stomach to revolt in the night. I woke up around midnight and barely made it out of my tent before “tossing my cookies,” to put it politely. That night, I learned how grateful I am for friends who will join you in your mess, hold your hair, and remind you of truths found in scripture. My friend Kayla did just that. She sat with me and played worship music on her phone until I was calm enough to go back to sleep. While I would not want to relive this moment, I’m thankful God uses any situation to remind me of his nearness and the strength of community.

I was going to need that reminder in the days to come.

To Be Continued…

This is a story of failure, a story of brokenness, and a story of God’s grace.

This is the story of a mountain.

July 2023, I and eight friends took seven days to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro in eastern Tanzania. On day one of the hike, I was more than ready to give up. We arrived at Machame Gate around nine in the morning. Thick fog and light rain created an ominous atmosphere as we anticipated our ascent. Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell serenaded us with Ain’t No Mountain High Enough as we sat in the welcome area, eating a box breakfast and waiting to complete our registration forms. We waited for nearly three hours. With each passing minute, the butterflies in my stomach grew more assertive. We hadn’t even started, and I was already asking myself, “What in the world have I gotten myself into?”

At the entrance gate, we filed single file through a security checkpoint. Two metal detectors and a baggage check stood between us and the mountain. Our team of nine Americans gathered with the four guides, three cooks, and countless porters for a brief orientation. After scanning passports, signing guestbooks, and hearing the mountain rules, we began our climb.

The first hour consisted of cement paths, Bluetooth speakers blaring every song ever written about a mountain, and so much rain. The water falling from the sky was more of a sputtering than a downpour, as the low clouds created walls of water we consistently walked through.

The rainforest was filled with divine beauty unlike anything I had seen before, but my eyes were fixated on the shoes before me as I focused on taking each new step uphill. Exhausted and out of breath from this first (8-mile) hike, I didn’t know how to manage six more days like this. One team member was sick, and I thought, this is my out. If they must go back down, I will volunteer as tribute to ensure they get to the bottom safely.

I wished failure on someone else, so I didn’t have to keep doing something hard for myself. Fortunately, that team member woke up fine the next day. While I would like to say this news made me happy, I was angry as it meant I had to continue climbing. This sudden emotion surprised me, as it was the furthest from a righteous anger. I would feel very convicted about this later in the hike.

One day in, and I already felt broken beyond repair. Feeling pushed far beyond my limits, I would soon learn how much further I could go if I made myself willing to listen. This was only the start of a journey that God intended to use to change me and prepare me for all He had in store.

To Be Continued…

When I was a senior in college, I lived in this dirty, dungy shoebox of an apartment. Despite the stains on the carpet and the potential black mold creeping up the walls, I loved all 450 square feet of it. It was the first place that was all mine and genuinely felt like home.

The A/C didn’t always work in the bedroom, so (much to my mother’s chagrin) I often slept with my windows open. Unfortunately, while the fresh air was a welcomed friend, the screen meant to protect me from the outside world usually allowed unwanted guests to creep in. Often members of the Hymenoptera and Diptera families (aka ants and flies), I could not sleep until I knew without any shadow of a doubt that my unwanted foes had perished or were banished from the premises.

From the naked eye, the screen on my window appeared impenetrable. I could never quite figure out where the wide-open entrance was, obviously with a welcome mat and neon OPEN sign inviting every bug in a ten-mile radius to a house party I did not plan. I just knew they came in somewhere through the window.

Sometimes, anxiety creeps in as silently as these bugs. We think our mind is impenetrable, prepared for battle. Then suddenly, without warning, we are left wide open and unprepared for the onslaught of hostility in our minds.  

You aren’t good enough.

Why do you think you can do this?

You are setting yourself up for major failure.

As I sit here and wrestle with these lies, I am reminded of my little apartment. Did I leave the window open again? Fighting unwanted thoughts like this is not a one-time battle. Tonight, I am again reminded I can never let my guard down. I must daily take up my cross and put on the armor my God has provided me.

But most importantly, I must never forget I am not fighting these battles alone. Honestly, I’m not doing much fighting at all. My job is to lay each anxious thought at the feet of Jesus, wholly trusting that He is in control. Easier said than done, but when I try to fight each battle on my own, this is when I leave room for the enemy to make his move.

The truth of the situation? My Jesus has already won. I can take comfort in my living hope, knowing He is bigger and stronger than any lie that tries to take root in my mind.

I am not enough. But He is!

Why do I think I can do this? Because my God equips everyone He calls.

I’m not setting myself up for failure. I’m preparing my heart to worship my God with everything I have.

“Don’t worry about anything, but in everything, through prayer and petition with thanksgiving, present your requests go God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Finally brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable– if there is any moral excellence and if there is anything praiseworthy– dwell on these things. Do what you have learned and received and heard from me, and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you.”

–Philippians 4:6-9

Trips to the airport are almost always accompanied with an adventure. Whether it’s a flight to see family, traveling for work, or an exotic trek across the globe, I love exploring new places.

When in the air, there are few things I find more beautiful than watching an endless sunset over a billowing sea of clouds; Or seeing the webbing of streetlights illuminating the night sky from above.  Each city appears as a unique fingerprint of civilization. But with this beauty is often one thing – turbulence. My most recent flight shifted and shook like a ship in a storm the whole way back to Dallas.

Turbulence – violent or unsteady movement of air or water; conflict or confusion.

I don’t pretend to know anything about the aerodynamics and science that are involved in keeping the airplane afloat. One thing I do know – an experienced pilot does not fear turbulence. He or she maneuvers through the speed bumps in the sky with ease, knowing without a doubt that the plane will remain in the air.

As I tried to convince myself that this choppy ride was no different from sitting in one of those dollar massage chairs at any shopping mall, I began to think about how turbulent this last year has been for so many.

This past year has been full of bumps, many of which were unexpected and left us with bruises. When facing these unexpected bumps, it’s easy to focus solely on the uncertainty of the situation, or on the immediate pain and knee jerk reactions. Through the lens of eternity, these bumps are miniscule. This is something that that is often difficult for us to remember as we face imminent threats. In every season, it’s important to remember the promises our God has made to us. The sorrow may last for the night, but His joy will come in the morning (Psalm 30:5).

When we inevitably face turbulence, we need to remember who is in control. Are you trying to steer the plane? Or are you giving control to the one who deserves to be in the pilot seat?

Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the whole earth.
He never becomes faint or weary;
there is no limit to his understanding.
He gives strength to the faint
and strengthens the powerless.
Youths may become faint and weary,
and young men stumble and fall,
but those who trust in the Lord
will renew their strength;
they will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not become weary,
they will walk and not faint.

Is. 40: 28-31

I knocked on the door with my trembling fist. I stood waiting for the door to open for what felt like an eternity. Standing beside me were three perfect strangers, but I felt safe with them. When the door opened, I saw a man, wrinkled from head to toe, with a large belly hanging over his blue striped boxers. He had a gentle smile, kind eyes, and peppery hair. He invited us inside, gave us the best seats in the house, and offered us the little food and juice he had. This man had no idea why we had come to his place, but he welcomed us like he had been expecting us. After some superficial chatter, I asked if I could share my story with him. I told him about my family, home, and finally, my Savior. I had practiced over and over how to share the gospel, and when I began telling him about Jesus, I thought I was doing a pretty good job. I had brought a tool with pictures to help me. I suddenly felt very confident in what I was doing. But out of nowhere, the man cut me off. He stopped me, took the pictures out of my hand, and said, “Thank you for sharing, but God is telling me that I need to share this story with YOU.”

The houses we visited in Colombia all had lavish decorations on the outside. Each street had all the hustle and bustle of an average American metroplex, with a small-town feel. Red velvet curtains with tassels hung in every window, and the streets were filled with buses, taxis, motorcycles, and mules pulling old, rickety carts headed in every direction. Stoplights and street signs were just suggestions; if traffic were not moving fast enough, a two-lane road would soon become five lanes. Every building was painted a different extravagant color, with salsa music blasting from every street corner. The outside of every house was bright and inviting, but the inside was always empty and dark. This was done to give the appearance they had more.

I soon realized their houses mirrored their relationship with the Lord. They painted up their lives to look like the “good people” we all want to be, but inside, their hearts were empty. On the outside, they had everything, but like many people, they hid their deepest struggles. When we suppress these struggles, we allow the cracks to grow longer, more profound, unmanageable. 

When we try to hide our struggles or burdens, they become heavier than necessary.  Jesus calls us, “Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). He promises to transform us from the inside out. He promises to be the firm foundation on which we stand. We no longer have to hide behind a painted facade because He has taken what was old and broken and made it beautiful. When someone truly understood and accepted the good news, it was like you could see the lights turn on, and their “house” was no longer as dark and empty as it appeared before. Our true beauty is exposed when we put our value in Jesus rather than in other people. 

I used to tell people that I love Natural disasters. Now, I know that sounds like a morbid thing to say, but when you think about it, lightning is just incredible. It all blows my mind: tornadoes, Tsunamis, Volcanoes, Hurricanes! Don’t get me wrong; I would never want to be caught within a 100-mile radius of these events. But the natural power of wind, rain, electricity, heat, etc., just takes my breath away.

I just love storms. A lightning storm at night is one of my favorite things. Watching the lights dance across the sky is so peaceful. The pitter-patter of the raindrops dancing across the rooftops, mixed with the booming bass of the thunder, is like listening to the sky compose a concerto for the clouds. The beauty of the electrified night sky takes my breath away. I am left in awe of the power displayed in the lightning. Although it is beautiful, I know it is dangerous. My fear of lightning brings with it a vast array of emotions.

When I think about a storm, it reminds me of how I should fear the Lord. For most of my life, I was confused when told I should fear the Lord. Why should I be afraid of my creator, my sustainer, my savior? How can I fear a God I know loves me deeper than I can even imagine? I still don’t have answers to every question, but I am learning more about a reverent fear.

Synonyms of the word fear include admiration, apprehension, consternation, dread, esteem, fear, fright, respect, reverence, shock, veneration, and wonder. While the word Fear may be thought of by most as having a negative connotation, the words so closely related to it do not! Fear is typically an unexpected emotion. Something that surprises you leaves you in dismay. But when we fear the Lord, we are left with a sense of wonder and respect. We are in awe of His mighty power. Fearing the Lord does not have to be the same as being afraid of Him. Now I know He is all-powerful and could crush me with a single thought. But I also know He is gracious, loving, Just, and His mercy never ends. I understand that God does not give me what I deserve. And for that, I admire Him even more.

So then, my beloved, just as you have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure.

Philippians 2:12-13

I find myself visiting this room often. Never on purpose, and I never plan to stay long.
Frankly, I never plan on going there in the first place.

This room is a dark room.
Not Pitch black, but just dark enough it is hard to see.
It’s a small room, with not much inside.
The cracks in the walls are just big enough to allow anxiety to slip in.
Worry quickly follows.
The fear of returning to this room keeps me there longer;
Ironically.

There are no windows.
There is no door.
There is no hope.

But.
There is a light switch.
The Light switch is across the room.

The heavy weight of darkness keeps me from moving towards it.
The fear is almost deafening.
The anxiety, the self pity keep my feet glued to the floor.

But the light switch continues to beckon me.
It calls my name.
Louder than the fear.

I stand to my feet.
Slowly.

As I stand, the weight of darkness pushes me in the opposite direction.
I think about giving up.
Returning to my dark corner.

But the light switch calls my name louder this time.
Cheers encouragement in my direction.

It tells me I am strong.
I stand again.

This time the darkness feels lighter.
The fear is not as loud.
The anxiety creeps back through the cracks it came from.

I slowly make my way across the room.
The light switch is mere feet away.
It feels like miles.

I extend my arm as far as it will reach.
I feel my fingers brush the end of the switch.

Almost there.

The light switch calls out Louder now.
The encouragement, the JOY, is all I can hear.
I reach a little farther.

Finally.
Finally the the light is on.

The darkness has no place to hide.
The light is overwhelming.
Blinding.
Breathtaking.
Consuming.

Powerful, and yet gentle.
I am wrapped in peace.

I want to stay in this room.

In this consuming Light.
I never intend on leaving this room.

But when I do…
It is never on purpose, and I never intend on leaving for long.
Frankly, I never intend on leaving at all.

But I can be assured,

I will always find my way back to the light.

we had the sentence of death within ourselves so that we would not trust in ourselves, but in God who raises the dead; 10 who delivered us from so great a peril of death, and will deliver us, He on whom we have set our hope. And He will yet deliver us, 11 you also joining in helping us through your prayers, so that thanks may be given by many persons on our behalf for the favor bestowed on us through the prayers of many.  2 Corinthians 1: 9-11

 

There are times where I wish I could treat life like a Mad Lib. I want to know exactly what will go in each empty space, and whatever story I create will be the one I go with. But sadly life is a little more difficult than “insert noun here” and “past tense verb”

Life is full of a lot of blank spaces. Sometimes we encounter just a few at a time, and other times it feels like all we have written on the page is

Once Upon a Time….”

I’ve recently entered one of the biggest transitional times of my life. I graduated from college. I moved home. I found a temporary job. I began looking for a real job. I discovered I have no friends here. I need to make friends here. I need to find ways to get plugged in. To my church. To my community.
I just need to make my life feel less temporary. Finishing college mid year has really thrown me for a loop. I feel like I should be packing up and heading back to Arkansas any day now. I have yet to accept that chapter of my life is over. I wrote the  end, when I feel like the page should say

To Be Continued…

It makes me think of a Shel Silverstein poem, where he talks about the Whatifs.

“Last night, while I lay thinking here,
Some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
And pranced and partied all night long
And sang their same old Whatif song…”

Now, my Whatifs may not sing the same tune Mr. Silverstein sang. but I frequently ask the dreaded “what if…” questions. These questions are like a poison. They seep into my brain and spoil my plans for the future my making me regret my decisions in the past.

What if I had chosen a different school to go to?

What if I had chosen a different career path?

What if I am no good at teaching?

The questions continue day in and day out. I can’t overcome the Whatifs by ignoring them. I can only win the war against the Whatifs with HowCanI’s. Instead of dwelling on Whether or not I will be a good teacher, I should focus on – How Can I improve my teaching? How can I continue to learn and grow? How can I better prepare myself now for my future?

I can’t just ask these questions. I have to act on these questions.

I can’t allow my life to be consumed by the blank spaces. Instead of waiting for the words to write themselves, I can begin to fill in the holes. I can overcome the WhatIfs and be confident in the person I am becoming, the future starting right now. I may be in a transition period, but I can choose to make the best of it.

One word at a time.