claim the name

When I was eleven, I went through confirmation at my home church, Bellevue UMC. It was during this time that I first heard the song Sanctuary, when we went to District Conference. We all loved the song, and so during our official confirmation, on Easter Sunday, we all played the song together on our instruments. Then, after speaking the words which confirmed our faith and affirmed our baptisms, we received Bibles. On the front cover were the words, "Claim the Name." This was the theme of our confirmation time--claim the name of Disciple of Jesus.

This idea of "claiming the name" comes to mind whenever I think about the term "missionary." In August 2013, I was commissioned as a missionary of the United Methodist Church. It can be challenging to claim the name of missionary for several reasons:

The word "missionary" often carries negative connotations. 
What do you think of when you think of missionaries? Often what comes to mind first is the idea of someone going to another country with intent to convert, frequently in culturally-insensitive fashion. Arrogant, self-righteous, hypocritical, and closed-minded are some other terms that hit the mark. With these ideas in mind, I hesitate to label myself as a missionary for fear of what others might think of me.

Something central for my fellow missionaries and myself has been the need to redefine missionary. Many others in my program have shared stories about needing to reassure colleagues and friends that they "aren't that type of missionary." So what type of missionaries are we?

To me, it boils down to seeking justice in faith. The "in faith" part is incredibly important--it is the reason behind the action, the foundation beneath my work. . The justice part is also crucial. My mission is not only to live a life founded on my faith, but to live with the intent to alleviate suffering, to fight for justice, to live with compassion, and to love our neighbors. To me, faith and justice are intertwined and inseparable.

This is not a negative definition. So why is it still so hard to claim the title of missionary?
Because it is so much to live up to. 

Being a missionary means I have accepted not only the challenge of working for justice, but also the challenge to grow in my faith and to remain connected with the church community. As a result, I feel the need to hold myself to a higher standard. I hesitate to claim the title in everyday life because I pressure myself to be perfect, and I fear the judgment of others when I cannot live up to it. In essence, it comes down to my own pride and my tendency to try to do everything myself instead of relying on God and remembering the assurance of grace.

I hope that I can get better at claiming the name of missionary rather than focusing on my fear of what others might think. After all, if my faith in God is so important to me, if it is what has brought me to this place, I should not be ashamed of it.

save the squash!

On Saturday morning, after a forty minute drive to Buckelew Farm, I stepped into the comfortable morning air to survey a seemingly endless field filled with pumpkins and native squashes. It was November 1st, the day after Halloween--AKA the day when pumpkins leave the minds of most Americans until next October.

But what about all those patches full pumpkins never picked? These nutritious, long-lasting food resources rot away while all over the US, people are struggling with hunger and food insecurity.
It is hard to comprehend the sheer scope of the waste. Right now I can't find any data to help us wrap our minds around the amount of pumpkins that go to waste each year. I did find that 1.4 billion pounds of pumpkins/squash are produced in the US each year--and how much of that do you think is leftover after Halloween? My guess is, a depressingly high amount.

For our harvesting crew, though, it was a beautiful day and we were in high-spirits as we rescued the most palatable, nutritious, and long-lasting squash from rotting away. We focused on varieties of squash less-known to most Americans while the Bhutanese with us scoured the field for the freshest pumpkin leaves.

We filled two pickup trucks and the back of the Iskashitaa cargo van with squash and pumpkins! 

Squash will be a fixture at the Iskashitaa office for the next six months since our only limit was the space in the vehicles we brought. I'm hoping to experiment with some recipes to see how I can better incorporate pumpkin into my diet, and to encourage my friends and family members to do so, too! 

I challenge you: call up some local pumpkin farms to see if they would be willing to donate any of their leftover pumpkins/squash, and take some back to your church, food bank, or nonprofit. Then try out some new recipes and see what you find. 

In the meantime, enjoy these pictures from our Saturday outing, taken from the Iskashitaa Facebook page! 

I had fun harvesting with my friends! Normally I only see them before/after harvests. 

An expansive field on a beautiful morning. 

These squash are incredibly heavy! I could only carry one at a time. 

We had a great sized group for our Saturday morning harvest! We had volunteers from Presybterian Campus Ministry, St. Thomas the Apostle Church, and the Young Adult Volunteers program.

sincere reality

I have been trying in vain to write an update for weeks. Somehow, everything I try to write feels empty. I don't know how to describe my experiences in words that are meaningful enough.

I can't believe how lucky I am to be in this position. How could anyone not want a job like mine? I know lots of people wouldn't want it, but for me it is so wonderful that I can't imagine not wanting to do it. (At least, not most of the time! Everyone has their stressful days.)

I know so many incredible people and I get to spend time with people from countries all over the world. My life is full of laughter. I learn to draw, to make date vinegar & date syrup, to say words in new languages, to try new foods, and to consider things from a new point of view.

My international friends are funny and loving. They have real problems and care about real solutions. They have real hearts and real dreams and real joy. This sense of reality is something I have longed for. It's beyond surface level; sincerity in every sense.

My friends inspire me. Many of them are people who have been through hardships I can't even imagine or comprehend. And even now, the challenges continue. But they are here. They have chosen life. They have chosen hope. When I am struggling, they inspire hope in me.

My friends are from many countries, many languages, many cultures, many religions, many backgrounds. I see God in all of them.

Sabbath

When I was in college, I remember once talking to a friend about how overwhelmed I felt. "If only I had one day," I said. "Just one day a week, where I could rest." Pause. "...maybe that's what a Sabbath is for."

Sabbath. The name given for the day of rest.

It can be difficult to recognize a need for Sabbath. In the USA, we are Busy people in a Busy culture. We don't mean to say yes to everything, but, who would do it if we didn't? I think most everyone who is overwhelmed with the Busyness that leads to Burnout has good intentions. But I think some of these unhealthy practices can deteriorate into dangerous (and often subconscious) patterns of thought.

God took time to rest after creating the world. If God rested from work, who am I to say that I don't need rest? Isn't that like saying my work is more important than God's work? Is refusing to rest similar to thinking I am indispensable? Might I not begin to think that my projects cannot be done without me? In reality, the only One necessary in any situation is God, and trying to keep this thought in mind has helped me to feel less pressure and also, I hope, to be less prideful.

If I want my life to be meaningful, I need to take care of myself. How can I contribute to a community if I am overworked to the point that I am fatigued, irritable, and frazzled? How can I strive towards my goals with quality if I can't keep track of my obligations?

These are some of the reasons that I try to have boundaries between my work life and home life. I try not to work from home so that I will not associate my home with work. I try to get enough sleep every night so that I do not lose patience with others due to my fatigue. This is not to say that I am always successful. I am far from that.

At mid-terms, we talked about Sabbath. It reminded me of the importance of rest, and more specifically, the importance of a rest that involves rejuvenation through God. I left that session feeling hopeful that I can recommit to a regular Sabbath. I don't want it to be something legalistic, because then it just becomes another obligation. Rather, I hope that by intentionally practicing Sabbath, I can become more and more the person that God intended me to be.

I'll end with an under-edited poem that I wrote during mid-terms about what Sabbath is to me.

sabbath 
at dawn my dreams are not cut short
and I experience them in their entirety
the extensive expectations of the world are lifted
and obligations cannot bind me.

my shadow dances under the sun
the grass is soft between my toes
and I feel connected to the Earth
wondering at the life it contains
holding us to it through threads of gravity.

I can respond to the call of books on my shelf
an invitation to learn from another's story
the library's quiet welcomes me and
invites me to the edge of enlightenment.
my ink spills onto paper
its mess makes sense of my mixed up mind
emotions flow from fingertips to keys
transposing my soul into song.

I make space for creation
magnificent mountains    and    empty riverbeds
desert plants, flourishing
in a dry and forbidding land

the land of the living is not without danger
the water from the well of life is not easily drawn
hope sometimes hides from me
yet the Spirit on Sabbath bids me--
come. drink deeply. breathe fully. find your hope once more.

crown of joy

A few months ago, I did a presentation with Barbara at the Church Women United's May Friendship Day. After the program, a couple came up to me and shared that they had been through the United Methodist mission programs near the time they had been founded. They met at their training and fell in love; they were then separated for 3 years while one was a J-3 and the other a P-3, going to Japan for 3 years and the Philippines for 3 years, respectively. After they came back, they were married within two months. It's a story fit for cinema.

This is one of the meaningful parts of being a US-2: meeting those who participated in my program in the past, receiving their encouragement, and  having the opportunity to hear their stories and where their journeys took them.

This couple in particular had a special connection to me.

"We named our daughter Stephanie, too. Of course she's older than you."

I smiled. "It's a good name."

"Yes, we picked it out because it means 'crown.' And her middle name was "Joy", so she was "Crown of Joy."

I stared at them a moment and then repeated, "Your daughter's name is Stephanie Joy?"

"Yes--is that--?"

"But that's my name."

I can't describe in words what an intimate and meaningful moment this was. The husband had tears in his eyes, and his wife said, "You must be your parents' crown of joy, too."


This is just one of the many special connections I have experienced since beginning my journey as a US-2. Though I have met other people named Stephanie, and other people with the middle name Joy, I've never actually met anyone else named Stephanie Joy. Crown of Joy. Though I have known that my name means "crown" or "crowned one" for many years, somehow I never thought about my name's meaning in its entirety. Crown of Joy.

I think one of the reasons I have thought about joy so deeply is because it is part of my name, and I am ever trying to live up to my name. This is not always easy, particularly when I forget that it will not be possible apart from God. I have already written a post with some thoughts on the nature of joy, but I am still pondering what it means to be a crown of joy, and perhaps I always will.

oceans

I have always loved the water. Lakes are abundant in Michigan, and on my list of Things I miss, being near water is second only to my friends/family. But as much as I love the lakes, I still feel more connected to the ocean. I attribute this mostly to the summer weeks I spent in Milford, CT throughout my childhood, staying on the Long Island Sound with 40+ family members. Over the years, my cousins and I have developed our skills in sand castle building, finding sea glass and shells, catching jellyfish, hermit crabs, and all manner of other creatures, planning for the tides (sandbar at low tide, swimming at high tide), and more...My memories are filled with joy, and the connection to the ocean is a part of it.

Yet even beyond that, the ocean stirs something deeper in me.

the smell of salt water and
grains of sand beneath my feet
the sound of the waves greeting the shore
water stretching as far as I can see
knowing that the ocean holds life
yet it is powerful and dangerous
it is peace and passion, life and longing
and I feel awe and yearning

This feeling of awe and yearning is something I feel whenever I stop to appreciate creation. I think it has to do with recognizing the beauty of God's work, and with that the knowledge that there is something more, some longing in my heart that God alone can address. And, I feel something more--a sense of call. It is something I cannot always articulate, but it is a deep conviction that I must go. 
I love Oceans by Hillsong because it expresses my feelings so well.

You call me out upon the waters
the great unknown, where feet may fail
and there I find You in the mystery
in oceans deep, my faith will stand 

so I will call upon Your name
and keep my eyes above the waves
when oceans rise 
my soul will rest in Your embrace
for I am Yours
and You are mine

Your grace abounds in deepest waters 
Your sovereign hand will be my guide
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me 
You've never failed 
and You won't start now

Responding to God's call is not something easy, or clear, or even safe (by worldly standards). Because God calls His followers to bring His light to the darkness, we may walk a path where feet may fail. Fear surrounds me, and the injustice seems overwhelming, and the very water that I so love threatens even to drown me. Yet somehow, in the deepest oceans and the roughest waves, I find You. Despite the great unknown, the mystery, the fear, and the failure....Your grace abounds.

I visited the Pacific Ocean on Saturday. And I felt life, and I felt joy, and I felt God. And despite the overwhelming injustices surrounding us, I still believe You will lead us out of the darkness.

we wait upon the day

The Lord said, "What have you done? Listen! Your brother's blood cries out to me from the ground." -Genesis 4:10 

In the aftermath of tragedy, I wonder, God, do you still hear the blood of the innocent, crying out to you for justice? Can you hear the echoes of each individual soul? From Iraq to Gaza to Syria to Ferguson, and beyond? To the places that no one has heard of, but where injustice reigns seemingly unopposed?

I feel my heart breaking. People around me mourn, with hearts more broken than mine, in the wake of horrors happening in a place they called home. And I wonder, God, does your heart break, too?

I believe that it does.
Have I not prayed, Break my heart for what breaks yours? My heart breaks, but I cannot resent the pain. The day injustice no longer breaks my heart is the day I am no longer myself.

Yet my heart and soul cry out, and I identify with Habakkuk. (1:2-4)

How long, oh Lord, must I call for help, but you do not listen?
Or cry out to you, "Violence!" but you do not save?
Why do you make me look at injustice? Why do you tolerate wrong?
Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and conflict abounds.
Therefore the law is paralyzed, and justice never prevails.
The wicked hem in the righteous, so that justice is perverted. 

Have mercy on us. We wait upon the day. We seek justice and love mercy, and we wait upon the day.
 And I remember that Habakkuk ends in hope.

Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord. I will be joyful in God my Savior.
The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet feel like the feet of a deer, 
he enables me to go on the heights. 
-Habakkuk 3:17-19

May injustice ever break my heart.
May I never close my senses to truth.

May You show us the way out of the darkness.