When Light Breaks Through

“Ugh. Firnsdhip. (Yes. Apparently that is how you type friendship after an EXHAUSTING week of preparing mentally for a conversation with a friend that you just don’t see eye to eye with. But you want to. But you just can’t.) 

I’ve been prepping all day to say it well. To cover it with grace and mercy. But in that moment it comes out all raw and uneven and not at all like I wanted. 

And now I feel emotionally like one might feel physically after a marathon.

And still nothing is resolved. It’s all hard and messy and hard to explain. And then those raw emotions, unfiltered, come out in a way that shadows over the truth.” 

That was a journal entry after a conversation gone awry a few months ago as I sat slumped over my computer, exhausted. 

Sadly it was only downhill from there. In fact, the whole thing spiraled out of control leading to the unresolved and somewhat confusing end to a friendship. 

And I suppose the enemy was pleased since his goal is destruction and death.

I learned a lot about myself and about God’s character in the weeks leading up to that and the weeks following. But the loss was still very real.  

So, as I sat on the cool concrete floor next to a dear friend last week while she was wrestling with the aftermath of a broken relationship, I determined to do one thing and to do it well: listen. I wanted to hear her story and what she felt. Right or wrong, I was there to hear and understand. By God's grace this story would end differently.

I was privy to the other side of the story from our mutual friend with whom she had the conflict. Now I wanted to see her angle. Where was the light not getting into the confusing shadows of her experience? Where had this whole thing gone wrong?

Because every story has multiple angles, not just two sides.

The more she talked and the harder I listened, the more I understood.

Turns out it was the same trio at play here that had wound its way into my situation a few months prior. 

Miscommunication. Misunderstanding. Assumptions. 

The ultimate trifecta to destroy all things relationship. 

As she shared, I prayed and asked for wisdom. When the time came, I gently nudged her towards truth and asked permission to share her side with our mutual friend, the other side of the conflict. 

“No,” she said. “Don’t tell her. It will only be more confusing. It’s over now. Everything is fine.”

Ah. There it was. The lie. The ultimate lie was that if the truth came out then there would be confusion. That it should just be swept under the rug and everyone would move on just fine.

But the truth sets us free (John 8.32). Truth makes a way for forgiveness and that is when light breaks in and dispels the darkness. It is in the silence that the confusion takes root, where the truth is buried, and the darkness prevails. 

I assured her I would not tell her story. Instead we would sit down, the three of us, and we would create a space to hear and be heard. Only then could freedom be found and relationship be restored. She agreed to this and I assured her I would be back. 

The next morning, as the Amazon sun peeked through the cotton clouds that promised rain for the afternoon, I walked back to her house with the other friend. I prayed for wisdom and healing as we walked into her home. 

We found her fiddling with the stereo system, trying to get a station to come in clearly, to no avail. She welcomed us in, though not making eye contact as we settled in on the sofas. With one friend directly across from me and her by my side, I took a deep breath. 

There was part of me that held on to the faith that understanding was possible. That when we sit down, face to face, with pure and humble hearts, there can in fact be restoration. Maybe it will take time take. Maybe it will hurt. But it can happen. 

The other part of me doubted after what I have experienced. We humans are messy. 

“Jesus, lead us.”

I began the conversation by reminding us all that we were there to hear. To listen and understand. “Quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger...” James tells us. A lesson hard learned.

As the discussion progressed, I saw it happening. Slowly but surely (and with some nudging still), the truth began to surface as the stories began to collide. 

This was understood one way, when it was intended that way. 

This was communicated that way, but it actually meant this. 

This was assumed based off of one thing, but that was never true to begin with. 

Light breaking through to reveal the truth that had been buried. 

As the light grew brighter, the darkness fled. It all culminated in tears, hugs, apologies, and forgiveness. There was finally understanding to a situation that had lasted well over a month now. One that had threatened to ruin a friendship of many years and one that very well would have if there had not been space to listen, humility to receive. 

I felt humbled and honored to have been witness to this moment of restoration. It took a lot of self-control, in fact, for me not to fist pump the air and shout, “See! I KNEW it! I knew that it could happen. It wasn’t just in my mind. Relationships CAN be made whole again!” Because how many times has the opposite been true? I’ve seen it in my extended family. I’ve witnessed it in my own relationships and in those of close friends.

Miscommunication. Misunderstanding. Assumptions. 

A heaviness that weighs us down. 

Oh, but God is faithful. He makes a path to restoration and it is never too late. This was proof.

I took the opportunity to read 1 Corinthians 13. 4-8 aloud. It is written across the walls of Grace House where these ladies spend their days and it has echoed in my mind ever since my own conflict a few months back. 

We need frequent reminders as we humans are forgetful. 

I read it slowly, letting it seep into our hearts.

“Love is patient, love is kind.

Love does not envy,

is not boastful, is not conceited, 

does not act improperly, 

is not selfish, is not provoked,

and does not keep a record of wrongs.....”

That last line. I get hung up there. “Does not keep a record of wrongs.” As I am reading this list of love’s attributes, this one stands out to me. How often do we say with our mouths we forgive someone, but our hearts say otherwise when we keep record? 

Praise God, He keeps no record!

And that was where this friend was struggling. She couldn’t understand the forgiveness and the love that she was feeling in that moment, the very things that were causing the tears to flow. She had never experienced it and she could not believe it was true. 

But it is true. Love lets it go, but even more than that, keeps no record. There is not a storage room full of dusty old books where all of our “wrongs committed” are written down to be used against us at a later date. It is as though it never happened. 

“Love finds no joy in unrighteousness 

but rejoices in truth. 

It bears ALL things, 

believes ALL things, 

hopes ALL things, 

endures ALL things. 

Love never ends.” 

The day before this conversation took place, we had gathered together with other friends at The Donut Company, something our jungle family does every Sunday evening, to re-center and re-focus. To hear from Jesus. Richard had shared John 13.35 with us all:

“By this all people will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” 

Love for one another.

That’s the distinguishing characteristic. Love as defined by 1 Corinthians 13. That is what sets us apart in this world. It is so simple. We make it so complicated, don't we?

It’s a love that forgives and remembers no more.  A love that endures all things. A love that is pure and patient and kind and it never, ever ends. 

It is a love that I observed shine brightly that day in that tiny home with the tin roof. 

This definition of love is my prayer for myself, my children, my husband, my family, my friends, my enemies, and total strangers who I meet in the day to day. It’s something I fail at regularly. I am often the one asking forgiveness, the one needing love extended. 

How thankful I am that God is Perfect Love (1 John 4.7-8). 

When we walked back from her house that day, it was as though a weight had been lifted from everyone’s shoulders. Restoration will do that. When a part of the Body is healed after an injury, the whole Body feels and experiences the joy of it. 

As it should. 

Pray for our jungle family. For understanding and ears to hear when conflicts arise, as they will. For endurance through the many trials that come. 

And for our love for one another to always prevail so that the world around us will know we are in fact His disciples. 

A Slave Set Free

I hopped off the back of the mototaxi and peeked my head in the door of Grace House to surprise her. She hugged me tight and kissed my neck, smiling that wide open smile that I remember from three years ago when I first met her. I hugged her right back and told her how good it was to see her.

And it really was so good. I watched her as she prepared the food for the kids that day and she worked ever so diligently. She thanked me over and over for the opportunity to be here, in this place, working. “The smiles of these kids keep me going every day. Thank you. Really, thank you.”

Confessions of a Missionary Part Dos: I have a [real] tattoo.

Whew! I've wanted to say that for a long time.

To some of you, this is a shock. Maybe I even just dropped a few notches in your book.
To some of you, you wonder what the big deal is. You have twelve tattoos and you're getting another one tomorrow.
And some of you just don't care. This is petty to you. [If this is you, don't feel obligated to keep reading.]

Regardless, this is a relief for me to say. Why?
Because it's on my ankle and I've been trying to hide it for 2.5 years, that's why. That's not an easy task for goodness sake. Imagine: summertime = shorts + trying to hide a very obvious tattoo that is clearly [and permanently] etched into your ankle = very difficult

Why have I tried to hide it? After all, I was the one who consciously got the thing! It's a long story. So, if you're up for it, take a few minutes to read a little bit of my story...

I come from a very conservative background and I'm--wait for it-- a missionary. If you can relate to either of those, you understand the taboo-ness of tattoos in this realm. They are right up there with going to movies and reading from modern translations of the Bible. Unacceptable! Sinful even.

If you don't, however, come from a conservative background and/or you're not a missionary then you have no clue what I'm talking about. As a matter of fact, you may have several tats that are clearly visible and you proudly display them. Maybe you and your Pastor have matching tattoos. I don't know. But regardless, you don't see what the big deal is.

Allow me to explain.

When I was about 11 years old I developed a religious form of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). (Google it. It's not uncommon.) I had been taught, whether purposefully or not, a checklist Christianity.

Read your Bible. Check.
Pray. Check.
Tell people about Jesus. Check.
Don't cuss. Check.
Don't drink. Check.
Don't smoke. Check.
Don't get tattoos. Check.
And Jesus will be happy with you. Check... right? Or did I miss something? I don't want Jesus mad at me. Let me try this again..... Read your Bible. Check. Pray. Check.........and so commences the OCD.

[I'm being transparent here. I hope it doesn't make you too uncomfortable... or maybe it should.]

I was obsessed, but not with Jesus Himself. Not with knowing God. Not with loving Him and humbly serving Him. I was obsessed with the motions. I wanted to "do the right things" so I could somehow be in favor with God. I wanted to be a "good person", not one of those "bad people" who did do all these things that I didn't do. Sinners.

I distinctly remember some of my thought processes. I would pray using the "right words" (Heavenly Father, Lord, in Jesus name, Amen, etc.), on my knees, hands folded. At one point I remember being afraid that I wasn't saying "Amen" correctly. I had heard it pronounced "Ah-men" and I had heard it pronounced "A-men". Which was right? Which did God want to hear? I'd use both, just in case.

I would carry tracts around with me and place them in random places. I would become anxious as I tried to decide if I should leave it under the windshield wiper or in the door handle. What would Jesus do? Should I leave two tracts? Maybe three?

I would read my Bible but I found myself reading the same verses over and over. What if I was missing what God was saying to me? I would read the genealogies word for word. Gotta read every jot and tittle. Right? Don't want to displease God.

I had to be at church every time the doors were opened. Every. Time. That meant every youth activity, every Old-Fashioned Revival, every prayer meeting, e-v-e-r-y-t-i-m-e. And I was sure to wear a dress or a skirt. That's what Christian girls do.

I had the t-shirts. I had the devotional books. I did my "Quiet Time" and had the points to show for it every Wednesday night at small group check[list]-in. I brought my KJV Bible. I took notes.  I had preachers sign my Bible. I brought my Bible with me to my public school. I went to See You At The Pole. I even did a report once on Billy Graham (again at my public school). I wore panty hose in the winter.

I was doing all the right things. I was a "good Christian girl". I was a "good spiritual example". I was pleasing God.

Right?? I was pleasing Him, wasn't I?

Wait, did I pray the "salvation prayer right"? Did I mean it with all my heart? What if I only meant it with some of my heart? Did I know "beyond a shadow of a doubt" that I would go to Heaven? How much doubt is that, exactly?

This went on for years.
On the outside, I was a "good Christian girl".  

On the inside, I was empty and stifled. 
I was suffocating in well-intended Religion.

I had crammed myself into the "Christian mold". I did all the right things. I followed the checklist obsessively because I was taught to do all of the things to be a "good Christian". That was what Christ looks for: obedience to these rules. You know you love God when you do these things.

I never stopped to question it. That would be wrong. Oh, so very wrong.

Fast-forward a bit. It was 2008 and I was 22 years old. I had finished Bible school (check), married to my high school sweetheart, working at a ministry (check) and was just accepted as a missionary to begin raising support to go to the foreign field full time (check)... and I was so cramped inside the Christian mold after 11 years of living by the checklist, I was ready to throw all of Christianity away.

If this was what it was all about, no thank you.

And I was frustrated. Maybe even angry. I had done ALL the right things. I went to church. I stayed pure for marriage. I went to Bible school. I did all these things. I couldn't be holier if I had been born on a church pew.

But I was empty. I was walking this walk that I was told was in the right direction but I felt so out of place.

Somewhere along the way, while checking off my list, I had overlooked the fact that God looks on the heart. All my efforts? Useless. All my attempts to please God? Worthless. Why? Because they weren't from the heart. They were in an effort to make myself somehow worthy of God's love.

So there I was in the midst of a spiritual identity crisis. I believed that Christ as the only way to Heaven.  I genuinely wanted to serve Him. But I was disconnected. I didn't "feel it".

And I was determined. I was determined to break out of this Christian mold once and for all. I was tired of being seen as a "good Christian girl" on the outside and wanted to prove that you could indeed love Jesus and not obey all of these man-made rules of modern Christianity.

What better way than a tattoo? It was edgy. It was unexpected. And it was permanent.

So that's what I did. I got a tattoo (see pic below). But what's funny, looking back, is I was in some way still enslaved to the checklist good-girl mentality because I got a tattoo of the Hebrew word "to have faith". At least it was a "good tattoo".

"So there!" I thought, "Maybe I'm not such a good girl after all. Boo-ya!"

Um. So. Now what? I found myself even more conflicted after this. Now I had this permanent fixture on my ankle and I still felt trapped.
There was still an emptiness in my heart.

And I suddenly felt the need to hide it. What would everyone think?? Ashley got a tattoo! She's gone off the deep end. She's rebellious. She'll never be a good missionary now. How can she lead another culture to Christ with a tattoo? Oh, not Ashley!

So I hid it. For 2.5 years I've hidden it.

But then through a series of events, I began a journey about a year and a half ago that has transformed me. I began studying for myself. I began being myself. I began to feel alive. And it has absolutely positively nothing to do with reading my Bible. It doesn't even have to do with praying or being good or moral. I didn't even have to get a tattoo to figure it out.

It's like God took a razor blade to that box I was in and revealed to me that He doesn't fit in there after all.

My life was transformed when I realized that it's just not all about me after all. It's not about what I do. It's not about what I say. It's not about who I appeal to.

It's all about Christ. It's all about Him. He died so I could be free. He died so I didn't have to have religion. He died so I could love Him. He died so I could love my brothers and sisters. He died so I could LIVE.

And the ironic thing about it all? Now I want to know Him. I want to read His Word. I want to pray and talk to Him. I want to share Him with others because He is just so good.

And I don't have to do anything at all but love Him. The rest just starts to come naturally.

So I threw my checklist away so to speak. And I'm free. I'm free to tell you unashamedly that I have a tattoo. And Christ doesn't love me any less for it. It's part of my story and who I am.

[Before you go all Leviticus 19:28 on me, stop for a minute. Go back a couple of verses to Leviticus 19:19 and make sure you aren't wearing clothing made of mixed materials. Yeah. Exactly.]


So take a minute and ask yourself:

Have you been living a checklist Christianity?
Have you been believing things because it's what you've always believed?
Have you been holding standards for other people that aren't even in the Bible?

Are you in love with Christ or your checklist?

Are you serving the true Christ or a Christ that's been manufactured by modern Christianity?