Salvation Isn't for You

Week 4 here in Thailand, and the Lord has already done so much just in my own heart.

I can feel Him pruning me, stripping away the pieces of myself, in order to make me more like Him. And its definitely not easy. Its painful and its hard. Conviction isn't fun. But how necessary it is for us to constantly be emptied of ourselves, in order to be filled with Him. 

I've realized how blinded my eyes have been towards people. I walk down the streets and pass them without a thought or a care to who they are or what they've been through. They're just another busy person. The clerk at the grocery store. The man selling tea on the side of the road. The frustrated couple walking through the mall. The girl sitting and eating alone at a restaurant. 

Each one of these people have stories. They have hurts and hang-ups. They have a past and a future. But most importantly, they have a soul. 

But for so long I have been treating people as just people. Walking past them unconcerned. Because I've been so caught up in my own world, with my plans and my to-do lists. I've been busy with my own areas of "ministry," picking and choosing who I think that needs Jesus the most. Often, I've just been too busy to stop and care.

Caring takes energy. It takes time. It means being intentional. And sometimes, it means welcoming interruptions. 

This week we walked down the same street that we have been frequenting almost every day, prayerfully ready to share Christ's love with girls in the bars and build new friendships. Almost every night we had passed a homeless man with only one leg sitting and begging. 

"This isn't why I'm here" I thought. I came to reach out to prostitutes and girls in this area. Ministering to the homeless wasn't what I signed up for. 

But the Lord convicted me of my blindness. How could I be so focused on what I thought my mission was, and not stop and care for those in need? 

So we did. Two girls on my team brought him food. We sat and listened. His name is Keezo. And he shared his heart with us. He spoke honestly about his struggles and his need. He lost his leg by stepping on a mine in Myanmar. He has been to church and read his bible. But the only picture of Christianity that he has seen is works-based. Giving your time and your money to the church. Doing. He was so bitter towards God because of this false gospel that he had been shown. 

And what he said next keeps ringing in my ears,

"I have met many Christians, and they talk, talk, talk. 

But where is the love?"

And I couldn't help but agree with this humble man that sits and begs day after day.

And as I read statistics like: There are over 6,000 unreached people groups in the world, over 2.1 billion people are without access to the gospel, for each unreached people group there are 600 churches, and there are 151,600 people are dying every day.

I can't help but to agree with Keezo.

Where is the love?

If we truly loved God and people like we say we do, why are so many christians still sitting in the church? Why aren't we out there telling our neighbors and everyone we meet about Christ's love? Why aren't we being Jesus' hands and feet? Why isn't true discipleship happening in our own backyard?

But most of all, why are only a select few "going"?
When did Jesus ever say that it is a special calling to "go" and make disciples? It's a command.

Often I think the church is quick to claim God's comforting promises of scripture, like "Cast all your burdens on Him, because He cares for you" but slow to obey God's commands:

“Go into all the world and proclaim the gospel to the whole creation." Mark 16:15

"Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit," Matthew 28:19

"For so the Lord has commanded us, saying, “I have made you a light for the Gentiles, that you may bring salvation to the ends of the earth.” Acts 13:47

Why do we think that we can claim the comforts and benefits of being God's children, yet completely ignore God's clear commands to "go" and to make disciples? Why is it okay for us, as followers of Christ, to not be making every effort to share the truth of the gospel with the lost? Why is it okay for American churches to be building bigger buildings with fancy flat screens, when thousands are dying each day that have never heard the name of Jesus?

Its not okay.

I truly believe that God didn't save me just for me.
Yes, He does personally love me and He completely changed my dead heart and brought it to life.
But He didn't stop there. Because if His only purpose for my life was for the salvation of my soul, why am I even still here?

Why not just let me die and go straight into His presence, where I could enjoy a full and perfect relationship with Him, without all the struggles and temptations of living in this world?

I am here today and I have been saved in order to proclaim Him and His glory. 

Salvation isn't only for us. Its not only about us. Its for others. 
Its for the nations. Its ultimately for God's glory.

I heard recently that God's gospel found me on its way to someone else.

After being here this summer, I truly believe that statement.

God has placed us here, for such a time as this. So, will our lives obediently reflect His calling to all believers to go and make disciples? Or will we rest content in our comfortable American christianity, too fearful to let go of the blessings and comforts that God has graced us with? 

Getting Uncomfortable

This summer is so different than I what pictured. 

I don't know why I ever thought that it would be simple to start a conversation with a prostitute. Or that bar-hopping would be easy. Or why I thought that seeing the depth of this darkness wouldn't have an impact on me personally- as if my emotions have an "on" and "off" button. 

Let me tell you: they don't.

Its hard seeing these things. And I don't understand why.

Why God, are these girls put in these awful situations?

Why do these men think that what they're doing is okay?

Why does the government let this go on?

Why are there not more Christians here shining a light in this darkness? 

These are the questions that plague me as we walk down the streets, passing innumerable bars filled with beautiful girls, barely dressed, waiting to be bought for the night. 

And I'm so uncomfortable.

This is not what I'm used to doing. Ministry here is a whole new ball field for this girl from Tennessee. I'm not you're typical college girl that hangs in clubs and is the life of the party in bars. I'm not even good at playing pool. Seriously, I just embarrass myself. And its honestly a struggle for me to just sit and make small talk with girls that I seem to have nothing in common with. Different language. Different culture. Different beliefs. Different style. Seemingly, different everything. 

But I'm also so thankful. Because I know without a shadow of a doubt that this is where Jesus' heart is, in the midst of this darkness and sin. These are his daughters that He deeply loves. This is where he has me during this season. This is where He is moving. This is where He is going to do great things- and it will all be because of Him. 

Because I realize my weakness. I feel so unequipped. In and of myself- with my own power, I can accomplish nothing.

But His voice sweetly reminds me,

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." 2 Cor. 12:9 

And I'm thankful for my weaknesses, because when hearts are changed and eyes are opened I'll have no doubt that it was only Him, through His power alone. 

So I'm content in my own weakness. Content in His power.

Content in being uncomfortable. 

Isn't that where we're supposed to be? Living uncomfortably? 

Because I know that Jesus wasn't comfortable as He hung on the cross and paid for our sins.

And I know that the disciples weren't comfortable as they, all but one, were martyred for His sake.

If they, how much more should I? 

And in light of their sufferings, I welcome this light momentary season of being uncomfortable. 

For His namesake,
Lindy

"For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as LORD, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake. For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' has shown in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ." 
2 Corinthians 4:5-6

The Truth Behind the Smiles

Week one in Thailand.

My heart is so happy to be back in Asia. It feels like home.

Its funny how things that most foreigners would find annoying is strangely comforting to me:

crazy busy streets- zooming with motorcycles

shower heads that only reach my chin

rice offered for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert

The same warm smiles that stole my heart last summer are melting my heart again. I remember why they call Thailand the "Land of Smiles." Everywhere you turn people are smiling and greeting you with soft "Sawasdee kha"

But this summer feels very different, and its not just because I'm in a new city or with a new team.

Its because I've quickly seen the underbelly of the Thai society. The depravity of the culture is impossible to miss as you walk down the streets of this tourist city.

Never before have I witnessed such a darkness. Down one street in the red light district, there are hundreds of bars and massage parlors- too many to even count. Girls, barely dressed sit waiting for men to come and buy them out for the night.

Van loads, full of Western men pull up and then quickly leave with young Thai girls. Old, decrepit men sit and flirt with girls at the bar while they get them drunk.

Dozens of girls sit on barstools at Karaoke clubs and wait for parties of men to come and buy them. Some stand by the street and wave down cars and tuk-tuks.

Yet, the saddest sight of all is their smiles. 

The only defense that many of these girls have is their smile. Because pretending keeps them safe. Not complying could easily get them beaten or killed.

So they smile.

But you can see the pain in their eyes. You can hear it in their voice. You can see it in their tears, as they tell their stories of how their mom forced them into this, or their family sold them, or they came to learn massage or serve drinks- and now they're trapped.

And whether they were forced into this or not . . . they're all deeply hurting. 

But they have to keep smiling. 

They have to wear the mask.

Even though my heart burns with anger towards the men that are victimizing these precious girls, I know that they are just as lost and are seeking to fill that God-sized whole in their hearts.

Yet, there has been hope in the midst of this darkness. God is clearly already at work through the women who have started this ministry. Seeds have been planted and the Lord is faithful to send the rain. 

Last night we were able to share the gospel with a sweet girl named O. She intently listened as we shared the good news of Jesus. Tears welled up in her eyes and it was obvious that the Lord was working in her heart. She shared that she met a girl from Texas who has been talking to her about Jesus. She said that she believes that the gospel is the truth, but that she is not ready to give up her Buddhist beliefs. 

Please pray for O and the many other girls that we will be in contact with. Pray that these girls would not only be freed from this lifestyle, but also that they would experience the true freedom that only comes from Jesus.

Thank you all for your love, support, and prayers. I deeply cherish them.

Grace and peace,

Lindy 

Why Church Stinks

I know what you're thinking.
You clicked on this link to read this for one of two reasons:

1. You know me personally and know that I dearly love the church- and am passionate about the gospel and missions. So- you wonder why I would say that the church stinks.

2. You have been hurt by the church in some way and were hoping to find another frustrated human being that has been wounded by the church. 

I would like to say both is true- I love the church. I believe that Christ died for the church. The church is a blessing and is so necessary to walking together in this dark world. I'm thankful for the church! But I've also been hurt by the American church. Let me explain why.

Last week I went with 11 friends from the Baptist Collegiate Ministry on my campus and served in Tegucigalpa, Honduras. We were so excited to go pour our hearts out and love on "the least of these." Beforehand, I asked that the Lord would give me such a heart for this people and that He would use me in mighty ways among the orphaned and widowed. Little did I know that He had way bigger plans.

Each day we visited the poorest neighborhoods in the city- witnessing poverty far worse than I have ever seen. The first day we drove into the neighborhoods, we passed piles of trash in the streets- with many people scavenging through them, hoping to find food. Yet, at each of these centers where we led VBS for over 400 children, was such a love that I have never experienced. Though these children had so little materially, they had so much love to give. They poured out their hearts and lavished us with affection. These children- so hungry for more than just food. Hungry for attention. Hungry to be held. Hungry to be known. 

These children taught me more than I was able to teach them. They loved more than I could love them. They served me more than I was able to serve them.

Each day was a beautiful picture of Christ's love. Of His glorious gospel. Of His redeeming of that which was lost and broken. 

And on Saturday we visited a place so different than any place I've ever been. It was like a different planet...

One where men, women and children lived, worked, and slept in the trash of the city. These people dig through mountains of trash in hopes of collecting 50 lbs of plastic- enough to exchange for $1.

And the world I live in now doesn't make sense. Knowing that as I go to and from church, coffee dates, babysitting, and school- that constantly, there are people around the world just trying to survive, forced to dig through rubbish. 

And I'll never be able to recover. I'll never be able to erase the images from my mind. I'll never be able to shake the overwhelming cry of desperation and hopelessness. And I saw it in there eyes.

And as we fed them food and gave them water my heart broke and my knowledge of the brokenness of this world was shattered. 

Yet there was grace.

Because a bus went to the dump and brought whoever wanted to come to church that night. And they came and people filled the church sanctuary. A beautiful mix of people. Americans and Hondurans. Rich and poor. Clean and dirty. 

Yet, the smell was unbearable. It was so much worse because it wasn't just trash anymore. The smell wasn't just the mountains of rubbish that we had walked through earlier that day.

It was the people. 

One man named Marco Anthony sat next to me and poured out his heart to us as I held my breath and tried not to breath through my nose. He embarrassingly looked into our eyes and told us how we were so clean... but he was so dirty. 

And in that moment I just wanted to cry out in my broken spanish, "No, no. Estoy sucio. Estoy sucio tambien." No, no. I am dirty. I am dirty too. 

My dirt might not be a physical filth. I might not smell like garbage. My skin might not be black with dirt.

But I stink too. My sin smells and looks different. But it still stinks.  

And the whole church stinks. Because we're truly all broken, messed up, filthy sinners and the only clean part of me is Jesus. Its only Him. I'm not clean because I get to shower everyday. I'm not clean because I go to church. I'm not clean because I have gone on mission trips. I'm not clean because I read my bible. I'm not clean because I pray. I'm not clean.

But Jesus is.

The only hope I have in being clean is in the scandalous grace that Christ poured out. The grace that covered my sin. The grace took my wretched stink from me. The grace that washed me clean. 

And I realized that night that me and this Honduran man who lives and works in a dump have much more in common than I thought. Both just wretched filthy sinners, desperately in need of a Savior. 

That night Marco Anthony came forward and proclaimed that he needed a Savior. He proclaimed that he needed to be clean. And I believe he realized that he couldn't clean himself up. That it would have to be living water. No matter how much soap and water, his stink would never leave, without the redeeming blood of Jesus Christ. 

Isn't this the smell we have too? Don't we see it? Don't we smell it? 

For the American church, our sin stinks too. It might look very different. It might covered up by many of our self-righteous works. It might be hiding beneath our facades of perfection. It might be disguised as a "I'm doing good" during the greeting time each Sunday. It might be masked by our church memberships, countless bible study groups, and mission trips. 

To be honest, I think that the stench of the American church is much worse than the awful smell of the dump. Because at the dump, the people knew of their filthiness. They realized their need. They smelt their filth. Yet, in the American church I think we forget that we stink too. We forget that this salvation and the countless blessings that the Lord has graced us with are not because we worked hard. Its not because we grew up in church. Its not because we try our best to not drink, cuss, or have sex outside of marriage. 

Its because of Jesus. Its all Him. 

Not one stinking thing we have done has earned us any of this.

I needed this reminder. I needed this picture. I needed to smell the stink and realize that it wasn't the people from the dump- rather it was me.

I pray that God would reveal this same truth to those in the American church. Once we finally smell our stink and surrender to Christ our self-righteousness, that's when His name is made great. Thats when hearts are changed and Jesus is glorified and true, life-giving water rushes in and cleanses us, the most filthiest of sinners. 




Photo Credit: Point of Impact, poihn.org

My Journey Back to Thailand

Last summer, I had the incredible opportunity to serve for two months in Thailand. I lived in the Isaan region, where the people there are one of the most unreached people groups. I was able to love and serve through teaching English and working alongside of the church. The Lord completely broke my heart for the Thai people. Many have so little- yet love so much. The joy in their hearts is contagious.

Every week we would take a long, bumpy ride out to a small village called Chiang Phang.

There, we would feed, plays games with, tell bible stories, and laugh with these beautiful children. I looked forward to seeing them every week. They laughed with me (and often at me) as I tried to speak to them in the little Thai I knew. They completely stole my heart.

The need here is so great.

Many of them lived in very bad conditions, with little care and supervision. In the villages, poverty is rampant and the poor are targeted for exploitation. My heart breaks to think that these same children are the ones that are targeted for trafficking.

Often, traffickers go into the poor villages and offer desperate parents what seems like a great deal. They tell them that they can take their child and put them to work, promising to take care of them and to give them a better life.

And the children are never seen again- taken to the red light districts of popular tourist cities, like Chiang Mai and Bangkok. Forced into prostitution, many at the age of 12.

This is the heart breaking reality. 

And this is why I have to go back.

This upcoming summer, I'll be working in the red light districts of Chiang Mai, sharing of Christ's redeeming love to exploited women and children. Though I am fully aware of the heart breaking sights and situations that I will witness, I am so excited to see what God is going to do this summer.

Will you pray for me and my team? Asking that the Lord would prepare our hearts for this journey, and that He would begin a great work in the lives of those who will we come into contact with. Pray that people would not only be rescued from physical bondage- but spiritual slavery. Pray for salvation.

Also, if you would like to help financially support me in this journey- you can buy a t-shirt! 

They are $20 each! (If you would like to have it shipped to you- please include an extra $5)

All donations can be made by clicking the button below.

Thank you!! 

Clearer Vision

Whirlwind.

The only word I can think of to describe my time here. So much to do, yet so little time. In this past week we have said goodbyes to many. To all the lively students we taught at the University. To all the sweet children at English camps. To all of the 23 precious smiles in the village. We have been showered with so much love. So many hugs. So many blessings. But, the hardest part of it all was driving away from the village, away from the sweet children that we had grown close to. The ones we sang, danced, and laughed with. The ones that we were able to share stories about Jesus with. The ones that softly spoke their prayers together in Thai. The ones that stole my heart.

Driving away from them, was definitely the hardest thing I've been through so far. Because we know that some of them experience hunger daily. We know and we have seen the neglect. We know that there is no church, no body of believers anywhere close by. Only empty temples, on every corner. We know and have seen the lack of hope. Of love. Of joy.

How badly my heart breaks for them to know. To know about God's might and power and glory as He sits upon His throne. To know about His tenderness that knitted them together in their mother's womb. To know that the same God that numbered the stars has numbered every hair on their heads. To know about His sacrifice, in sending His own Son to die for us. To know about about His unconditional redeeming love, chasing us without relenting. To know about His patience, even when we are faithless, He always remains faithful. To know about His overflowing, never-ending, all-encompassing gift of lavish grace. To know about how He is their perfect Father, never leaving nor forsaking them.

Knowing these truths. This is hope. This is peace. This is joy.
And that's exactly my prayer for them. To know and to experience and to believe.

And with tears streaming down as we drove away on that red-dirt, pot hole-filled road the Lord sweetly held me and whispered:

"I am the Perfect Father."

"I love them more."

"I am faithful."
And I know and am reminded that He knows. He cares. And that He will be faithful to continue the work that was started. After all, it is His glorious work. None of it was us, out of our own power. But only Christ's. All that was accomplished was only through Him. And I'm at peace knowing that even though I can't be there to see the harvest, He will be faithful to send more workers. He will be faithful to change hearts and lives, to seek and save them.

Seeing the need. Loving the ones in need. Changes you. I don't really know how to go back home and live a comfortable American life. I now know that living in a foreign country, away from family, friends, and the comforts of home is no longer a fear of mine. My biggest fear is coming back home and following what society- and even many church bodies deem as "life plan." Finishing college. Getting married. Having a 9 to 5 job and a nice home. With nice cars and cute kids. Chasing after the perfect, Pinterest-approved life. Tithing, but never till it hurts. Serving, but only when I don't have something more important to do. Loving, but only where I'm comfortable. This is my fear.

Because after seeing the need, after experiencing God's presence and the joy that He brings in being obedient and taking leaps of faith- My biggest fear is living the American dream. I want to live in the more. In the daily sacrifice. In the daily serving. In the daily loving.

And truly, this kind of living and loving can be done anywhere. In the rice fields of Thailand or in the streets of Memphis. But how many believers are truly living in the daily sacrifice?

This is my prayer for my life and for my brothers and sisters in Christ. That we trust Him enough to give, even if we don't have. That we love Him enough to obey His commands. That we would have bold faith in Him: that picking up our cross would be a daily action. That going and making disciples would be without hesitation.


"Until the whole world hears."

Hope in the midst of darkness