arms open wide.

There's a new album out that I like to say has made my entire summer. It's Hillsong United's Across The Earth. 

I'm a recent convert to the fanfare surrounding this Australian worship band. But a convert, nonetheless.

This is my prayer tonight:

Take my life, I lay it down

At the cross, where I am found

All I have, I give to you, O God

Take my hands and make them clean

Keep my heart in purity

That I may walk in all you have for me

Here I stand, arms open wide

I am yours and you are mine

Take my moments and my days

Let each breath that I take

Be ever only for you, O God

Here I stand, arms open wide

I am yours and you are mine

My whole life is yours, I give it all

Surrender to your name

And forever I will pray:

Have your way. Have your way.

Here I stand, arms open wide

I am yours and you are mine

Arms Open Wide

high school.

I graduated from high school today.

The whole experience is still really surreal. I remember a senior telling me freshman year, "High school flies by." I didn't really believe her at the time. But now I do. In fact, I can barely remember being handed my diploma this morning!

That was a joke.

Or an attempt at one, anyway.

Not only was today special because I graduated, but because I got to share my heart with several hundred people. It was the coolest thing I've ever been able to do.

Really.

To stand up in front of a rather eclectic group of people and tell them about my God. Who could ask for anything else?

Since many - or should I say, most - of you were unable to participate in this event, I'm copying my speech below:

My fellow graduates, Mr. Crane, teachers, staff, family and friends, I’m standing before you today for one reason, and one reason only: the Almighty God. This God has captivated my heart. My story isn’t grand; I’m just a girl once stuck with a stale perception of Christianity who has finally come to grasp the depth and strength of her God! My hope is that you too, will come to see the glory of this mighty God, as I share my story.

One of my heroes, Dietrich Bonhoeffer once said:

Look up…you who are captivated by the events and changes on the surface of this earth…Look up, your redemption is drawing near. Something different than you see daily, something more important, something infinitely greater and more powerful is taking place. Become aware of it, be on guard, wait a short while longer, wait and something new will overtake you! God will come, Jesus will take possession of you and you will be redeemed people.

I’m just your average 18-year old girl. I love watching The Office and rolling my car windows down and blasting Taylor Swift music. I frequently come home past my curfew. And I still think that throwing toilet paper in friends’ trees is a great way to spend Friday nights.

But this God has taken possession of me. It took a while though. Growing up, my suburban life has afforded me nothing but comfort and blessings: I have been raised in a supportive family that loves the Lord. For so long I’ve felt like I’ve been hearing the same things over and over again. My faith has grown stagnant.

Coming to Maranatha, however, has revolutionized my faith. I’ve learned two life-changing lessons here:

The first is that we live in a crazy world. In the last year, my eyes have been opened up to its harsh realities: terrible things I never thought existed, like human trafficking—the third most lucrative illegal industry in our world today. People, our fellow human beings, have become mere commodities—right up there with drugs and weapons—to be traded and exploited. And I’ve been alive, for 18 years, thinking slavery was long gone—oblivious to it all. That could have been me. Why am I here in America, living in complete comfort, taking my freedom for granted while people are suffering? It’s just not right! I don’t deserve any of this, and I certainly can’t go on living as I always have knowing that people are dying for deliverance! I have to do something.

And just as my awareness of our world and my role in it has changed, so has my view of God.

That’s the second thing I’ve learned: Our God is so much more than felt boards and cheezy light blue sashes. He is the Creator of the universe. The Author of salvation. The Healer of hearts. The Overseer of the overcomers. The Lover of the lost. The Hope of the hopeless. The Father to the fatherless. The Servant of all. The Famous One. The Alpha. The Omega. He is everything. He is all we need.

This is our God, the One we serve! His heart breaks for the orphaned, the oppressed, the widowed. He longs to see justice reign. He emptied Himself for you and for me. We were made for a relationship with Him, and we are made alive in Him.

And because of that, I owe Him everything. I want my life to about Him. Christianity isn’t about comfort. I don’t want to live a “normal” life. There’s no meaning in anything I do, unless it’s for God, His glory, or His Kingdom—because He’s the source of life. I cast everything else aside because the desire of my heart is to bring Him praise; I want to reflect Him and His heart for justice.

In Isaiah, the voice of the Lord cries out, “Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?” And Isaiah responds, “Here I am. Send me!” And even as this awkward, inadequate teenager, I feel myself saying the same thing: “God, use me! Send me, Lord!”

But where do I start? I can’t drop out of high school, move across the world, and just begin breaking people’s chains. I can’t change the world by myself. But I can do my part. God can use each and every one of us! He has gifted us beyond measure, and if we use our talents, if we all do our part, if we all take up our cross and follow him, this world can change.

Let this God take hold of you. Let Him guide you and your choices. Let Him redefine your idea of success. Let Him break your heart for what breaks His. Let His power fill you in your weakness, and give you strength to do things for His Kingdom. Let him change you.

Because of what I’ve learned here, at Maranatha, which means “the Lord cometh”, this God has come into my life. He has invaded my heart. He has changed me, and I won’t ever be the same. I’m not perfect, by any means. But His grace sustains me, and I can stand here and say that I have chosen to give my life, my whole life, to honor Him.

And I hope and pray you will dare to join me in this adventure. I challenge you with this: Abandon the need to be normal. Forsake the tendency to take control of life. Let love tear down the walls that divide us. Don’t make success a goal. Rest with the assurance that God will provide. Seek after His heart. Follow His calling.

We must use our talents, our gifts, our strengths to contribute to something greater than ourselves, to make a difference in this world that is so hungry and thirsty for hope. We can’t let apathy hold us back, fear keep us from trying, or hardship prevent us from finishing. We ought to live a life worthy of the calling we have received, a life in honor of the Most High, the one true God, the Savior King!

So look up…you who are captivated by the events and changes on the surface of this earth…Look up, your redemption is drawing near. Something different than you see daily, something more important, something infinitely greater and more powerful is taking place. Become aware of it, be on guard, wait a short while longer, wait and something new will overtake you! God will come, Jesus will take possession of you and you will be redeemed people.

crap.

This world is full of crap—and not just the I-had-a-bad-day, a-cop-pulled-me-over-and-gave-me-a-ticket crap (which happened to me the other day), but real crap. Deep hurt. Brutal pain. Hopeless agony. Utter despair.

I’ve been blessed to enjoy a rather peaceful existence. The extent of my pain has been loss of friendships and scholastic rejection. At times, I wish I suffered more. I feel like my lack of life-altering trials discredits the advice, consolation, and encouragement I offer others who are hurting. I’ve wondered if more hardships might enable me to better identify and comfort those who are struggling.

But I’ve realized my lack of struggles are in no way an indication of my inability to nurture, shepherd, and help those who are suffering. God can still use me.

So many of my friends are in dark places right now. The devil is trying to grab hold of them, isolate them, make them feel scared, warp their perception of reality. Some feel a constant presence of darkness all around them, some are confused, and some just tire of trials.

As they relate to me their problems, part of me is afraid to answer, part of me doesn’t know what to say.

I don’t want to sound like a cheesy Hallmark greeting card, reassuring them that “God’s got a plan” or that "everything will heal with time." Because while that’s true, let’s be honest: no one wants to hear that in the height of their pain.

I don’t want to sound condemning, have them think I am judging them or minimizing their pain and struggle because I have yet to undergo what they are feeling.

I have no idea what this is like. I have no idea what to say.

As I stumble for the right words to say, I ask, “Do you want to know what I think?”

After receiving any range of affirmative responses: a nod, a grunt, a “sure”, or an “OK”,

I say, “I think it’s the devil.”

Silence.

“He’s trying to isolate you, trap you, make you feel hopeless, make you feel scared and alone. There’s this battle above us between God and Satan. And Satan’s trying to get as many people as he can to be on his side. He’s trying to beat God. But God is so much stronger. His power triumphs over Satan’s. In fact, he’s so powerful, that just uttering his name will send Satan running. So there is hope: our hope is in God. We can rely on him. He’ll overpower Satan. He’ll fight for us.”

Silence.

The epic battle between good and evil is present in every scenario. God is good. Satan is evil. The pain and the agony we may feel aren’t from God. They’re from Satan. Yet he doesn’t have power over us. God is triumphant. And there’s hope in that.

I’ve felt his love, and I want them to. I believe his majesty resides in me, and I want them to. I can’t necessarily be their rock, but I can point them towards mine. But how do I take them there? How do I show them that?

I’m not sure I can. I can’t be their hope. I can't take their pain away. But I can introduce them to mine. I can take them to someone who can.

I don’t need to have walked through the fire to do that; I can help foster restoration in those who hurt without experiencing their pain.

Right now, I think I can serve as one who reminds them over and over again that they are worth something. They are something worth fighting for. They are important. They matter.

I’ve realized that a lot of personal struggle is intensified by a skewed perception of one’s self-worth. It’s sad that after all this Sunday school and Christian education, kids are still missing the point (which makes me wonder about the church's "Children's Ministry"...) that they are a child of the king, an heir of grace, a beautiful, magnificent creation. Their identity is not contingent on the inconsistency of their life and shifting circumstances, but on the unwavering constancy of our relentless God.

Someone told me recently, “Sometimes you confuse me. I don’t deserve your help.” My heart leaped at this paradoxical compliment. The beauty of God’s kingdom is confusing: it turns our world upside-down. Our world has no conception of God’s freedom, grace, and mercy: people are intent on getting what they deserve. But God, in his righteousness, has "lavished his love upon us", sent his only Son to die for us. We don’t deserve it. We haven’t done anything worthy of receiving it. But he gives it to us anyway. Freely. It doesn’t make sense.

And now, I’m told that I’m not making sense. But how cool is that? To be God’s. To follow him. To desire to reflect him. And to not make sense in this world. Because of that.

As I think about my life, my strengths, my weaknesses, and my circumstances, I feel like these might be the people I’m supposed to minister to: the ones in pain, the ones in agony, the ones stuck in a pit of hopelessness. I’ve never experienced true, deep suffering. I can’t always relate to people. I don’t always know what to say. But our God is mighty. And he can use anyone as the tool or the avenue through which he reveals his heart to one of his beloved, a lost soul, one thirsting for hope. And in that, here’s what I’ve learned:

This crap isn’t the end. There is hope. We are worth something. God’s grace is freely given. I can be a light.

And

“The LORD will fight for you; you need only be still.”

Exodus 14:14

the exchange.

Last night felt like the biggest night of my life. The event and movement I've been planning for almost a year now came to life. I was humbled and simply in awe of what happened. I can't really even put it into words.

Tears came to my eyes as friend after friend ran up to me with the profile of the child they just sponsored through Compassion. It was so overwhelming to see people caring, my friends, my teenage friends giving of their small allotment of money to help people in need, children with no hope.

It was beautiful. This is how the world should be.

I don't have much else to say, so I guess I'll just paste the little speech I gave:

To be honest, I didn’t want to do this event two weeks ago. I was tired. Plans weren’t going through. I didn’t feel like we could do these issues justice if we sloppily slapped something together. I didn’t feel like I could keep my sanity and go through with planning this. And I kinda figured that if God wasn’t pulling through, since things weren’t working out, he might just not want us to do it at all.

I agonized over throwing it all away. It pained me to think that this movement I started, this mission I feel drawn towards, this work I’ve invested myself in might be thrown away. But I really didn’t think I could do it. And looking back, I failed to see one thing:

“No act of love, no matter how small, is ever wasted, is ever meaningless.”

As I stumbled in my confusion, Mr. Hough sent me an email, reminding me of the greatness, and love of our God.

I remember just sitting in my room, in sobbing tears as I read his words over and over:

“No act of love, no matter how small, is ever wasted, is ever meaningless.”

This is worth it.

So I’m here, we’re here, and this is happening. And I’m just in complete awe. I’ve been broken, I’ve been pulled from every angle. I’ve cried just about all the tears I thought I had. I’ve said all the prayers I consider humanly possible.

But through it all, I realize that love is why we’re here. The truth, the freedom, the assurance, the peace, the grace, the abundance of life we experience in love. A love for people. A desire to see their lives transformed. That’s why we’re here.

We started this event last year to reverse the exploitation of people in our world. I learned that over 27 million individuals are enslaved each year—that’s over 3 times the population of Los Angeles! I was in shock. I couldn’t even fathom how slavery still existed—and I’ve lived 18 years completely oblivious to it all!

And this year, we’ve tacked on the issue of homelessness, something so prevalent right here in our own city. I drive by homeless people on my way to and from school, and most days I just pass them by.

But the statistics are so staggering: there are 1,165 people who are homeless on a given day in Pasadena. That’s like an entire school! 254,000 men, women and children experience homelessness in Los Angeles County during some part of the year, which is almost 1.5% of the total population of Los Angeles. Not to mention, nearly twice the amount of all homeless people in New York and Chicago combined!

Who am I to just keep driving by them?

They’re people too. A couple weeks ago I was doing some service with my church, and for part of the day we met with this homeless lady named Cindy. We listened to her share her story, and I was just struck by how normal she was. Lots of times, I think I just assume that homeless people are a little nutty, and if I give them money, they’ll just go spend it on drugs.

But when I met Cindy that all changed. She put a face to the issue. Here was a woman struggling to get by, honestly. Here was a woman who had a completely normal life, but poor decision after poor decision brought her to the streets. What hit me the most was the amount of discrimination homeless people face. It’s crazy to think that when politicians say they’re going to clean up the streets, they really mean they’re just kicking homeless people off the streets. Where are they supposed to go? Shelters are often so full! What are they supposed to do when cities make it illegal for people to sleep horizontally in public places? How are they supposed to get a job, when they don’t have a place to wash up? Who’s going to help them? Who’s going to challenge the law enforcement, who’s going to stand up for them?

I am. I will. This discrimination, is wrong. And it needs to stop.

This past year, I’ve prayed and sung that God would break my heart for what breaks his. And I think that’s happened: my heart breaks for people like Cindy, for little girls stuck in the sex trade in Thailand, for families endlessly toiling in rice mills in India to pay off an age-old debt.

As I look at my life, I want it to have meaning, to have purpose, to have impact. I want to live and die for something higher, something other than myself. I want to lead people into experiencing what I have, into the knowledge I know. I want to love people, love people till it hurts. I want to encourage people, in their weakest, darkest moments. I want to advocate justice, reminding people of the way this world should be. I want to be a light, a reflection, a living sacrifice for my God, in everything I do. I want to live in complete surrender to him, abandoning all else for his glory.

I don’t want to reach the end of the road and find I’ve lived this life in vain, lived for my own ambitions. I don’t want to breathe my last breath, wondering what else I could have done. I don’t want to leave this world, regretting the choices I made. I don’t want to be normal, seeking and storing up for myself treasures on earth. I don’t want to lose sight of what’s important, forgetting the overwhelming love of my God, forgetting to be his hands and feet, forgetting that I’m the one he’s invited to finish the good work he’s begun.

I don’t want people to live in pain. I don’t want people to feel inadequate. I don’t want people to be exploited in their weakness. I don’t want people to be forgotten, their talents unappreciated. I don’t want people to despair, live with no hope. I don’t want people to go through life without knowing about this God. I don’t want injustice to wreck any more lives. I don’t want corruption to reign supreme any longer.

Something needs to be done. Pleasure is too high a priority, while people are in peril and pain permeates. The lost need to know and experience the overwhelming love of our gracious God. They need to know there’s another way. They need to see how the power of his presence will crush their despair and bring them into freedom.

So tonight, I encourage you to join me in taking a step towards that change. We have tons of organizations here and there are so many practical ways you can help. I want to especially encourage you to consider sponsoring a child through Compassion. We’re really excited to have them here tonight because through their program you can donate just about a dollar a day to ensure that a child is released from the confines of spiritual, economic, social and physical poverty, that they’re cared for, have food, and a safe place to go. They’ve even done something really special: they’ve brought profiles of kids who live in the areas we as a school send missions teams. Imagine how cool that would be to sponsor a kid here tonight, and visit them next summer on a missions trip?! If you can’t swing that monthly commitment right now, then I encourage you to donate what you can to help us as a school sponsor a few kids.

Whatever you choose, take this opportunity to do something! Because tonight, we’re taking a stand. Tonight, we’re letting our awareness of these issues, our love for these people, to motivate us to action. Tonight, we refuse to let the weight of these issues cripple us. Tonight, we will not be silent.