On Skiing and Faith

If you know me, you’ll know that I love skiing. LOVE it. I love the feel of freezing air burning in my lungs. I love the icy wind on my nose, sitting on the lift, watching other people zooming down the perfectly groomed hill. I love the sheer exhilaration of racing wide open, coming around a corner and feeling the blades find the groove perfectly. Bending down, leaning into the mountain. Legs burning, heart pounding, I give every turn all I have. Over the years, I have spent countless blissful hours on the slopes with my dad. He is the best skier I know, and has taught me everything about the sport. I have worked on advancing many tiny details, that when put together, make me a “good skier”. But over all these years, there is one lesson that was harder to learn that the rest. Its something I see beginners struggle with over and over again. One of those things that easily shows skill level on the mountain.

See, when you find your feet racing out from under you on a mountain of snow, your instinct is to lean away from it. To lean back in your boots, because its scary. You don’t understand how to control movement yet, and so leaning forward and downhill seems like the worst idea. But in reality, its exactly what you need to do. Leaning back gives a false sensation of security. It makes you feel like you’re more in control, but leaning back is actually what is making you out of control. In order to master turning, you have to lean forward. Bend those knees, and lean down (my dad teaches this skill by making new skiers hold their poles with their knees bent). At first, its terrifying. It feels all wrong, but its right. And after a little practice, you quickly see that the further forward you bend, the more control you have.

In skimboarding, you throw your board over that perfect glassy inch of water left on the sand, following the wave back into the sea. When you jump on the board, you have to time it so that both feet land at the same time. You cannot hesitate, even though putting one foot on first seems better. If you don’t land with both feet, then one foot shoots in front of you with the board, and you end up on your butt in the sand (with a possibly hurt tailbone). When you’re swimming in the ocean, people get hurt in waves because they try and jump over them. When a wave is too big though, you have to dive under it. If you dive through/ under the wave, you’ll come out on the other side just fine. If you try and fight it, you’ll end up on the beach with sand up your nose. In all of these things, you have to commit. Bend forward, jump with both feet, dive.

Faith is like this. When God calls you to something, you cannot half commit, or it hurts. You have to go all the way. Jesus didn’t say “give half of what you have” he said “give all you have”. The call is not for the faint of heart, and it cannot be done without abandon. When things get hard, its often people’s instinct to turn away from God. But this is like skiing. When its hard, don’t lean back, lean in. Only by committing 100% will you make it. Don’t let that wave pummel you, dive!

Right now, its the holiday season. I won’t lie, I miss my family. I miss them a lot. But Uganda isn’t a “when it works for me” type of calling. Its a 100% kind of calling, and so that is what I have to give it. Sure, I can miss my family. I can be sad I am not with them, but I cannot dwell on it. Right now, I have to lean into my calling, and into Jesus. I have to give this my all, pouring more of myself out so I have more room for Jesus. Only by serving Him with everything I have will fill me up. So I am focusing on the good and beautiful things God has given me here, and thanking Him for all the blessing I have. These afflictions are eclipsed by glory, His glory. And that is a good thing :)

Alicia

You can read more about Alicia's life here

First, sorry to everyone that it has been SO LONG since I updated. I will try my best to be more consistent.

Its with a heavy heart that I write this post. On Nov 5th, I received news that a beautiful friend had ended her race here on Earth. Alicia Halpenny was a fellow missionary here in Uganda. I had the great privilege of serving along side her on several occasions, mentoring her in her first weeks in Uganda, and just enjoying her friendship. We were also linked by the men we each loved, who are best friends.

Alicia was incredible. She has Cystic Fibrosis, and was in constant pain for every breath that she took. This did not stop her at all from following God’s call to Uganda, or from bending down on her knees to serve Him and His orphans. She loved little children, and (being a nurse) had a heart for healing them. She loved people, and gave you all her focus while she was with you. She loved Jesus, and gave her life in service to Him. Alicia got really sick here in Uganda in October, and decided to go back to America for a little while so she could get better so that she could return to Uganda and continue serving Jesus. I was expecting to see her smiling face again in January, and it still feels like a blow that, this side of eternity, I never will.   There is so much I could say about her life, her perseverance, her faith, her laughter. But as much as her life impacted so many (so many!), her faith and love of Jesus has continued even in her death. Her legacy wasn’t just for remembrance of a life well lived, its a challenge, and it has challenged me in ways deeper than I thought were possible.

I first must admit that I am so far from perfect. I think that sometimes, people assume that because I am a missionary, my faith must be something special. That because I followed Jesus to Uganda, it makes me noble. That isn’t true. This work gets hard. Sometimes I hate it. Sometimes my headaches are so painful I don’t want to get up anymore, or I feel like I don’t have anymore love to give out. There are days I want to quit. There are days I want to go back to America. I am selfish. I am weak. And in the past few months, I lost sight of my Father.

Its like if you see the most beautiful painting in the world , and you are captivated by it. Captivated by it, and in love with its beauty, and in awe of the artist. And somehow, someway, you are blessed enough to take that picture home, and you hang it in your living room. And for the first few months, maybe years, you admire it. But then it just becomes part of the room, and you forget what it felt like when you first saw it. When people come to your home, they say “wow, that is so beautiful! how amazing!” and you agree, but secretly inside you cannot remember that feeling of awe anymore. I am so ashamed to say that my life, my calling to Uganda, and my faith had become like that. I was SO honored, so blessed, so unworthy to be anointed to do this work. I was so passionately in love with my King that service to Him was like my breath, easy and essential. It was all consuming, all I wanted, and all I needed. And then I got lost, and the beauty faded.

Alicia’s death brought reality crashing down around me. Here I witnessed a servant who, at 23, literally gave her all for our Lord. And He was good to her, and her faith was a testament to His glory. And her death was a testimony to the cost of calling ourselves His servants. Nothing else matters but Him. Nothing but His glory, and that is the call. To bring Him glory while taking care of His sheep. At Alicia’s memorial (which was streamed live to Uganda) many people gave their lives over to Christ. I know that right now, she is with our Father. There is no more pain, and she is crowned in glory as His good and faithful servant.

                                     “Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders. 
                               Let me walk upon the waters, wherever you would call me. 
                                       Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander, 
                          and my faith would be made stronger in the presence of my Savior”
                                                                                                - Oceans by Hillsong United

I love that song, Oceans. Its the first thing that I thought of when I heard she had been called home. I hate that her death is what it took to bring my faith and calling back into focus. But I am so grateful that death on the cross is our final hope, and the ultimate price. If I could say one more thing to Alicia, I would want her to know that even in death she brought glory to our King. Someday, I will tell her that. For today, I will focus on the only thing that matters. If it was all stripped away. If this calling costs me a life of pain from my migraines, if it cost me my family, if it costs me my friends in America, if it costs me my finances, if it costs me my very life... will I still consider it an honor to serve my King, and to have paid whatever price I had to so I could to do it? If it cost me everything, would Jesus be enough?


Yes.