Evidence of Grace

Compassion Connect

2009-11-03T06:06:00.003+10:00

Last night at church, I met Ben. He told me about a local project he's a part of, Compassion Connect. We talked for an hour or so about the impact and the vision of this army of volunteers in the Portland area. The people behind the scenes have made many sacrifices: time, money, tools, love. And it seems that God is blessing them. The movement is getting stronger. More people are giving of themselves, abandoning their "free time" and "pocket money" in pursuit of this vision. I was encouraged as Ben and I affirmed that it was nice to have met each other and wished each other a good week... his passion and community involvement resembled something, stirred up something in my heart: that we are to love our neighbors as ourselves. It's a simple command, a profound vision. Rather than being suffocated by fear or dormant somewhere in the walls of our churches, it seems this love is very much alive-- or is coming to life again in the hearts of God's people here in Portland. If each of us offers what's in our hands-- what God has entrusted to us to use, we can together be a powerful force of love.

Compassion Connect 09 from Daniel Johnson on Vimeo.

Praise You in This Storm

2009-11-02T16:36:00.002+10:00

A friend in Australia recently sent me a cd with some of her favorite music. This song, by Casting Crowns, hit me today.

Praise You in This Storm
words by Mark Hall/music by Mark Hall and Bernie Herms

I was sure by now,God, that You would have reached down
and wiped our tears away,
stepped in and saved the day.
But once again, I say amen
and it's still raining
as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain,
"I'm with you"
and as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise
the God who gives and takes away.

Chorus:
And I'll praise you in this storm
and I will lift my hands
for You are who You are
no matter where I am
and every tear I've cried
You hold in your hand
You never left my side
and though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm

I remember when I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry to You
and raised me up again
my strength is almost gone how can I carry on
if I can't find You
and as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
and as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise
the God who gives and takes away

Chorus

I lift my eyes onto the hills
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth
I lift my eyes onto the hills
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth

Chorus

Four Days in Switzerland

2009-10-29T14:56:00.008+10:00

October 22-26 in the land of chocolate and cheese, (and wine at every meal!) Friends Jaquelin and Sarah flew me over to photograph their wedding! The celebration included 500 guests, and by the time I left the reception at nearly 4am approx. 20 guests remained-- dancing the night away!!! The Alps were veiled by overcast skies, so I had to use my imagination a bit, but the autumn colors against a backdrop of vineyards and villages made this land stunning. I was able to take a train to Bern, the capital city, to visit Miriam (a friend from Logos II days), and was also delighted to meet many wonderful people tucked into life in this beautiful, French speaking pocket of the world!

Zurich Airport: Jack and Sarah on the way to their honeymoon, me on my way back home. October 26.

Bern. Parliament building (above). View from behind Parliament building (below).

Miriam.

assistant photographers at the wedding. Pricilla. Jerome.

wedding festivities (above). Motier, the village near the "city" Neuchatel, where I stayed, (below)!

Charity:Water

2009-10-03T10:31:00.001+10:00

2009-09-23T16:13:00.000+10:00

A true role model honored!

2009-09-15T05:26:00.005+10:00

I was a little munchkin in oversized b-ball shorts, droppin' threes from outside the line because I'd get dominated if I tried to drive the lane too often. In those old school days, much like today, there was an unending list of stellar athletes, yet few true role models in sports. Now, I wasn't ever good enough to get anywhere with my game. I was fast and fearless in soccer, but never phenomenal. I was the steady setter in volleyball, bringing hustle and a sense of team to my game. But basketball never really came naturally. I had to push and to practice constantly just to learn the plays and be able to run them as a second-string, varsity point-guard. For years, my neighbors put up with the constant sound of ball slamming against street as a sweaty jr. high kid nailed the backboard over and over under the streetlight on our dead-end road. Those were the tongue hanging days of Jordan-- the man who could fly. The days of Tim Hardaway's unstoppable crossover. And of Charles Barkley's unstoppable mouth. Magic Johnson and Larry Bird had lingering legacy that a new generation of men were attempting to live up to. Among them was one man who I kept my eye on, one man whose example on the court coached me under that street light. A man twice my size, he was quiet force of skill and character on the court. He was a true role model.

This week he was inducted into the NBA Hall of Fame, along with Michael Jordan and others. Though he's no motivational speaker, in his speech he affirmed his kids, honored his wife, thanked his coaches for the foundation and vision they set, and gave glory to God. In his retirement from the game, in his exit from the spotlight, "The Admiral"-- David Robinson, remains one of my role models.

Full Throttle or No Throttle?

2009-08-20T09:34:00.024+10:00

My cousins invited me to join them for a week of riding quads in Coos Bay. Of course I went!!!
It was fun to be with them again and to be able to experience something they enjoy doing together. DID YOU KNOW THAT THERE'S A SUB-CULTURE OF QUAD RIDERS?!

My cousins put me on the machine with the least power. I was by far the least experienced and they wanted to break me in slowly. They padded me with pants, gloves, goggles, and a bright pink helmet.

We had a blast blasting over and around the dunes. I got stuck a time or two (or sixteen). But, fortunately, so did they. They zig-zagged around me as we zipped through the biggest sandbox I've ever seen (with the possible exception of the country of Afghanistan).

Then. I crashed. Only once, but it was memorable. I was flying down a hill in 4th gear on my little Honda250. Wind was whipping. Sand was soft. And my tires were made for mud. I cruised over a narrow ridge going about 30mph, and didn't quite make the quick left turn.

The quad bucked and tipped me off sideways. Then it rolled over me. Three-hundred-and-fifty pounds of hot machine flung itself on my head and back on it's way down the slope.
(helmet check... I was fine.)

A few days later I was still sifting sand out of my eyes, nose, ears. I considered how that quad-riding experience parallels my approach to life.

I like the fast pace. I like the adrenaline. I like to think I've got a handle "it". I like the intensity of trying to keep up, often without taking my limitations and lack of experience into consideration. Somehow that makes the experience feel more real. Somehow that makes me feel more like the real deal. I want to be perceived as capable. Nobody wants to be a poser.

But life isn't sustainable in 4th gear (or 5th or 6th if you have one of those fancy racing quads!) I've never met a life that translates into a long, flat, firm sandy stretch.

Most of life requires a regular shifting between 2nd and 3rd. Mostly Mundane with moments of Exciting. Routine mixed with the unexpected. Rarely Romantic. Temporarily Tragic. Overall, being faithful is more virtuous than being adventuresome. And the ebbs and flows in steadfast commitment by those who have been around for a time replace the peaks and valleys of wavering interest known to the inexperienced.
Racing through life isn't bad. It isn't wrong. I guess it comes down to motive. If I'm driving in 4th gear because I think I need to be something to someone, or I need to prove myself to myself. Without grace. Without acknowledging and learning to compensate for my weaknesses. Without love and consideration for the others riding along with me. Then, by God's mercy, I sure hope to crash. I believe it's His kindness that let's us get bucked off every now and again. And maybe then we'll be better prepared to get up and ride, even if we're a little sore and have sand shoved in all sorts of places.

Pregnancy Brain Sympathy

2009-08-20T08:50:00.002+10:00

Several of my friends are pregnant at the moment... and APPARENTLY that can cause some form of dementia. Today, I misplaced my day-planner. Usually I'm fairly organized. An "everything has it's place" kind of person. So, I looked in it's place... and then in all of the obvious places after that. Retraced my steps. Patted my pockets (not that it would fit, but desperation starts to set in). Finally, it occurred to me (as I stood in my kitchen and peered into my fridge JUST IN CASE somehow my day-planner ended up there) that I MUST BE experiencing sympathy pregnancy brain. There's no other logical solution.

road trippin'

2009-07-13T10:07:00.005+10:00

Grand Canyon sunset, four-wheelin', the Lady-- Miss Liberty, Ellis Island hunt for the Italian ancestors, Washington Monument 4th of July, Skid Row, Harlem, Six Flags' old wooden roller coasters!, Licking Lincoln (respectfully), parking pass at the Pentagon, cousins, friends, calling dad from the Vietnam Memorial, and more.

Self Image

2009-06-09T07:20:00.002+10:00

In February, I spent three days as a stand-in caretaker for a surf club in Sydney, Australia. Each day I woke to the thunder of tumbling waves. By 7 a.m. I had completed morning duties and, with a bowl of Special K in hand and my feet on the coffee table, snuggled into the dusty, vintage couch. Only a one-way mirror separated me from golden sand and waves that indiscriminately toppled wet-suit clad bodies onto Narrabeen Beach—one of the world’s most famous surf shores.

At first surprisingly, and then much to my amusement, surfers of all shapes and ages often caught their reflection in my window. Teenage girls would adjust their swimsuit tops; middle-aged men inflated their chests and gave a flex. Some, men and women alike, diverted from their otherwise b-line route to the sandy sun-soaking extravaganza in order to tame a few shifty pieces of hair. Others, in conversation with unsuspecting friends, merely watched themselves as they casually passed.

No one noticed me, inches away, enjoying an exclusive, Aussie reality show!

It was a child who nearly blew my cover. A young girl of maybe six. She pressed her little face to the mirror, leaving nose and finger smudges. She saw in. She saw the coffee table and potted plants. Had she looked for longer than a second, she would have seen me—watching her.

Early in my journey following Christ, my Pastor said that God will use anyone and anything to teach me about Himself. This has proven true.

As I observed the parade of people, I considered how often I approach a situation-- be it entering a new context or attempting to solve a problem. Do I only see myself in the equation? Oh, I may get close enough to take a good look, but I’m looking only at me. And so I see me, a sliver of the whole.

I remembered David. Approaching Goliath, David didn’t dwell on his scraggly self. I remembered Caleb, urging his people to boldly storm the promised land, focused not on the ability or track-record of the Israelites but rather the faithfulness and promise of God. And Peter, passionate Peter, who declared that his love and his devotion would never fail Jesus. Failed. Later, on the shores of Galilee, after a long look in the mirror, Peter again proclaims his love and devotion—focused this time on Christ.

The curious girl at Narrabeen Beach looked beyond herself and saw what no one else did. She caught a glimpse of the world behind her image. As I slurped my soggy cereal, I was thankful for little finger prints and nose smudges on my window to teach me. We will never see the Kingdom of God unless we come as a little children.

We all belong to one story...

2009-04-27T16:08:00.002+10:00

View this movie at cultureunplugged.com

A birthday present to remember

2009-04-09T11:28:00.004+10:00

My friend Amber came to visit for two weeks in March! We enjoyed a Hillsong conference together, traveled up to the mountains to meet the nice folks in Portland, New South Wales, Australia... and we did a few other things. Most of all, it was nice to just be with a dear friend from home.

Early in Amber's visit, I realized that I have grown used to walking this adventure of life on my own in many ways. I'm no longer used to sharing my schedule, my bed, my tears, my toothpaste... the little, ordinary day to day things that make up life. I remember thinking-- "wow, how easy it is for me to be selfish"... and yet how much better it was to be able to share, to be a team, to slow down enough to really walk together.

Amber adapted so well to life here in Sydney. It was pretty impressive. And when she hopped on the plane and headed for "home" two weeks later, I felt like I had just been given an incredible gift. Her time. Her heart. Her financial sacrifice to come. Her efforts to understand and appreciate my life here. Her willingness to connect with my friends here. But, more than all that... the gift of sharing life-- of walking together, even if it means a few paces slower for a while... it also certainly means that much stronger for the long haul.

We are meant to "do life" together, to belong to one another... as a generation who is perhaps able to reach farther and deeper than at any time before. Relationship is a gift. And incredible gift God has given us in one another.

Thanks for coming, Amber Dawn! Thanks for sparking the reminder that God's agenda is not so much how much we can accomplish individually, but whether we are able to walk together-- sharpening and carrying each other each step of the way!

Gettin Real

2009-03-21T21:26:00.000+10:00

From The Velveteen Rabbit, by Margery Williams

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time; not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”
“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.
“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful.
“When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”
“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”
“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

To the Artists Out There

2009-03-06T11:44:00.004+10:00

... especially the freelance photography community.

Sometimes winter comes. Sometimes we step back and realize we're dry of creativity... and wonder what good snapping a camera does to better the world. Is this a worthwhile contribution? Is it meaningful investment of our short-lived prime? If that's you. If you're there. Here's an honest video from photographer, Zack Arias.(www.zarias.com)

The Question WHY?

2009-02-28T11:27:00.004+10:00

I must have been an exasperating child. My parents tell stories of me wandering off... at the park, at the zoo, at the mall... curious to know, to see, to touch. I remember in grade school, coming home with the new word that the cool kids were throwing around. I launched it at the dinner table. "Turd". Just tryin it out.

That didn't go over so well. I wanted to know WHY. WHY was the word cool among my peers, but forbidden with my family. WHY?

"Because I said so" was my dad's favorite response.

In fifth grade, one of my few friends drown. Kandice Lee Nyborg. We were Detention Hall buddies-- our friendship formed over stealing boys' hats at recess and whatever each of us did in our separate classes that caused us to meet up in detention on a weekly basis.

Her hair got caught in a bathtub drain at a hotel during mid-winter break. After that, my mom started taking me to church. I started liking church. I told someone about Kandy. I had questions. A nice church lady with great intentions gave me this wisdom: It's okay to hurt, but it's not okay to ask WHY. We don't ask why things happen, we just ask "what next?".

It left a funny taste in my mouth. As if asking WHY somehow demonstrated a lack of faith. As if this big God wasn't big enough to handle a 10 year old's hard questions. So I didn't ask, because I believed that I would hear a resounding "because I said so." Which, wasn't very helpful at all.

But now I'm a bit older. On the verge of becoming the nice church lady, myself. I've seen suffering. I've seen poverty. I've seen worldy wealth and treasure and beauty. I've seen that it's so very temporary. I've seen new life... and death. And disease. And courage.

Sometimes I lay in bed at night and it all just sort of screams at me. What is this place? WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY???? The thoughts tuck themselves into the corners of my room and wait for me to rise in the morning.

Guess what I've discovered, as I tiptoe into the question... He wants us to ask it. In the asking, He lets us explore the deeper places. It's like the tourguide at the zoo actually giving me PERMISSION to dangle my arms in the alligator pit, rather than scolding me for wandering off.

Why is there poverty? Well??? Go ahead, ask. Only if you are ready to become a part of the answer.

With His blessing, I'm removing my shoes and wading into the confusion. Curious. My faith is rocked, regularly, but the deeper I move into the questions, the truer I find Him to be the God of LOVE. Who, in sincere vulnerability awaits and nudges people to take off their shoes and get dirty, becoming the answer that they've been so terrified to know.

I think He kinda likes the exasperating kids!

Celebrating Life

2009-02-27T19:24:00.003+10:00

Congratulations to my cousins Edward and Rosa, on the birth of their gorgeous first child, born on February 26th. Aimee Starla, welcome to the world... we are so stoked that you're here and look forward to sharing this life with you. I love you guys!

And congratulations to my dad on his long-awaited retirement. I think he's been waiting for this day for the past 15 or so years! Well done, Dad. Congratulations AND Happy 28th Birthday, yet again! I'm proud of you. You made it to zero days in the countdown!!!! Take the post-hole diggers to Arizona and I'll put 'em to use whenever I come visit... you should have that pool sometime in the next 15 years!!!

First Two Weeks in Sydney

2009-02-21T23:08:00.013+10:00

The TeenStreet team! These are the wonderful people I'm working with for the next few months. (Okay, Okay, pictures from the northern beaches of Sydney aren't convincing that we're getting all that much work done, but we needed an afternoon of getting to know each other! Right?!)
Technically there are only three of us on the team: Antony & Sabine and me. But realistically there are several dozen people working together to launch this ministry in Australia. Donna (with the shades) works part-time in the office. She's a cool gal, taking great big steps of faith this year, and a great new friend.

Antony and Sabine... moved from Germany in March/April 2008 to head up the TeenStreet project. They've been married for less than 2 years now. It's difficult to tell from these pictures, but they are still working out their power-struggles!!! (or maybe just very much in love!)

And Marco (my brotha from anotha motha) flew back from his solo adventure so I was able to hang out with him several evenings during the first two weeks. What a bonus!

In Cambodia, they eat mango green and sour. When I arrived in Sydney, I wanted a sweet mango in a bad way. The local grocery store did just trick. (NOT very lady-like, but definitely enjoyable.)

This is my 1 a.m.:
"Put that camera down. You KNOW I'm tired and insecure. Stop it." face.

And this is me being serious when he doesn't put the camera down...

Aaaannnd this is the compromise, and Marco re-emphasizing his point that I am bad at getting mad at people.

Sailing under Harbour Bridge!!! One beautiful day, I decided to take the ferry rather than the train into the city. For $3 more, this is the view!!! Enjoy!

Cambodia clips

2009-02-21T21:03:00.003+10:00

This is one of the communities I was able to return to a number of times. This video clip is from my first visit. These kids are precious!

Traffic. Taking a short-cut through one of the markets.

Teachers playing "Duck-Duck-Goose" with their kindergarten students! The kindergarten is located in a rural village a seven or so hour drive from the city. I was one of 30 people crammed into a van as I attempted to find my way to this village. The van stopped at regular intervals, a few people spilled out, more folded in and we continued bumping and bruising down the road. The two women I was sitting on (literally) kept trying to make small talk with me as if I understood them. An hour or so into the trip, they gave up and just talked ABOUT me, appreciating the fact that I couldn't undertand them. Funny. (I understood enough without language to know that they both thought I was incredibly hot... as in, sweaty and sitting ON them... and they were amazed at how hairy I am!) The village where this school is located has no electricity nor running water and the roads are very simple. The Kindergarten, one of the two major projects MTI is supporting in Cambodia, stands out as a cement fortress among rice fields and bamboo huts.

Reflecting on MLKjr's Perspective

2009-02-13T11:09:00.005+10:00

A man of passion, driven by purpose. Sometimes I wonder how often he laughed, or what life was like for his wife. Sometimes I wonder how many times he wanted to give up, and WHY he didn't... it would have been easier.

Something I'm learning is that God has given us dreams. We each. Have Dreams. ...and it would be easier if we didn't fight for them. The easier road is to let things be as they are, to play it safe, to walk hand in hand with comfort all the days of our lives, to keep quiet.

Following our dreams might mean years of discipline, squaring our shoulders to persecution, focusing in the face of fear and doubt, and questioning the status quo.

Dreams take courage. Dreams require faith. Dreams force us to acknowledge purpose and awaken passion.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. could have given up. It would have been easier on him and his family. Even the church was telling him to sit down and shut up. He lived in the face of threats and of authorities calling him a menace to the very society he was fighting to improve. But he knew a secret about God-given dreams: It wasn't about him.

God has entrusted and empowered us each with a dream. Specific to you. Specific to me. I guess the real questions are: what is it? what am I doing with it? Because the answers to those questions have a ripple affect far greater than your life or mine.

DREAM

SERVE

FINISH STRONG

Oz' '09 Floods and Fires

2009-02-10T23:25:00.004+10:00

Many of you would probably have seen news coverage of the horrific brushfire sweeping through the entire state of Victoria (yellow southeast on map), Australia. As I write this the death toll stands at 173 with more than 750 homes and properties lost. The conference facilities that hosted OM Australia's annual retreat in December are now an ash heap. Last night, I was at a prayer meeting where people reported the deaths of friends and family memebers. Many people are taking refuge in swimming pools as the fires are too swift to escape. Co-workers in Melbourne say they stand on their balconies and watch the flames draw nearer. A sudden change of wind and the flames turn to devour another neighborhood instead of theirs. Frightening!

Meanwhile, in the state of Queensland (purple northeast on map), streets are flooded in the path of a cyclone. Relief efforts are hindered by crocodiles and snakes stalking people and making their way into homes. A croc already claimed one 5 year old boy. His 7 yr old brother stood at the bank of the water and helplessly watched. With 17 rivers flooded, and more than 62 percent of Queensland is covered in water.

In all of this, the Australian spirit springs into action with selfless service. Many people are reaching out to help, to meet needs, to give what they are able. Please pray that the Church in Australia and around the world will be on their feet, offering themselves as the hands of a compassionate and patient God. Thousands upon thousands of Aussie people find themselves in need of those hands tonight.

Buggin'

2009-02-04T01:07:00.004+10:00

Thanks to the little pocket camera a friend gave me for Christmas, I have a record of my first taratulla feed... that is feeding myself on furry, spider goodness! MMMMM.

... I confess that I didn't eat the head. I gave that to the lady on my right in these pics, who had first approached me to beg for money but was thoroughly entertained by my dramatic efforts to chomp into the spindly crutches on the one side, as they practically disolved off into my hand on the other. One week later, when I went back to buy a bag of fried crickets for my faithful moto-taxi driver, the beggar lady approached me again with her hand out... when she raised her head, we recognized each other and we both laughed and she gave me a hug... yep... the crazy, white spider lady who doesn't give out money, just spider head delicacies that she's too chicken to finish. (Speaking of chicken, I opted out of eating the raw chicken embryos, but my guess: they taste like chicken!)

time flies...

2009-01-29T18:48:00.000+10:00

... and mosquitoes bite.

Nearly two months have flown by since I last posted a blog. My apologies. And this post won't be too informative. I spent December between Australia, Singapore, Thailand (and Myanmar) and Buckeye, Arizona in the good ol' USA! January has been Arizona, Australia (Melbourne), Singapore, Cambodia, back to Singapore and Australia (February 2 I arrive in Sydney!). So I hope to update this blog with pics and thoughts soon, but soon keeps slipping away.

Currently I'm in Cambodia. I returned to the capital city yesterday (Phenom Penh) from a village in one of the provinces. There is much work to do here as I partner with a team of two foreign social workers (one from Singapore and the other from California) and a handful of local social workers in training. They are doing phenomenal work... the kind that can't be photographed. They counsel children who are living in abusive situations, they teach parenting courses, they teach groups of children who are identified as on the fringes. It's heart-breaking and yet somehow encouraging. I sometimes sit behind the 1-way mirror (with a translator) and listen to how resilient and yet how hurt these kids are. Please pray for the team in Cambodia. They need our support.

I hope to write more from Sydney, though my first few weeks there will be crammed as I hit the ground running. Thanks for checking in, and for caring in the ways that you do!

Happy New Year to you!

-Andrea

Alive and well...

2008-12-03T02:39:00.002+10:00

This week on the border:

gettin' old, maybe!

2008-11-10T19:58:00.002+10:00

Sunday evening, after a quick shower and on my way to church, I did a double-take at myself in the mirror (as you do on your way to church).

But something was amiss. On the right side of my head, glowing in the mirror under the yellow lights... was... was could have been mistaken as a... white... hair. WHAT??? NO! Could it be? I ripped it out and examined it carefully. Turning it over in my hands in disbelief and almost admiring this new feature.

This is it... a new phase of life has begun. I still didn't believe it.

But, then I walked the 1.2 kilometers to church and settled into the service. Afterward, some of the university peeps were headed to pizza. They invited me. One of the guys, probably about 20 years old and having NO IDEA how old I am, made some flirtacious comments at me. I almost laughed at him. No. I DID laugh at him!!! He could handle it.

I walked home. This is a hilarious stage in life!

ack... shame!

2008-10-20T01:51:00.002+10:00

Today two SOUTH AFRICAN men in AUSTRALIA enthusiastically informed me of the play-by-play of this years baseball season in the USA. And, to my utter disgrace, I actually had a moment of feeling really disoriented and thinking, "oh yeah, we still do baseball". It doesn't get any lower than that... South Africans DON'T EVEN PLAY BASEBALL and IT'S MY national sport!!! ack shame (best said with a thick Afrikaans accent).