Kookie Cut-Outs by Rachel Britz

This is our last week at the ranch. We were fortunate to break away for a day trip to Glenwood Springs, Colorado. Ever been? Ahhhhmazing. I did some research prior to the excursion and found a well traversed, glorious looking hike called Hanging Lake that we could all partake in. It was only 1 mile. Easy enough. Says the girl who once ran a marathon and once climbed Pikes Peak.

So we get the parking lot of the trail head and because I’m so confident in our swift abilities we bring nothing with us. No water. No sunscreen. No hat. Just all of our free loving selves. But no worries I’ve got my Garmin on.

Except…oops, I forgot to charge the battery.

A short jaunt brings us to the trail head. A Boomer looking couple sits slouched over on a large boulder and we ask if this is the right way. They concur. As we proceed towards the immediate incline the gentleman quips about our shoes suggesting the Crocs we’re wearing may cause some problems up ahead.

“Children,” I advised,  “pull the sling around your heel.” One child listened. The other ignored his mother’s sage.

But soon we would all be seeking wisdom. And a lick of water. I’ll let a few pictures speak for themselves.

So we’re nearing the famous lake. It’s been a rough go. Steep elevation. Jagged rocks. Slippery rocks. Fallen timber. Switch back after switch back. One child’s hand slipped into a patch of itch weed so there’s that. And everyone just wants to get there already. Did I mention we didn’t bring water?

Finally. We reach the summit. Isn’t this glorious? The lake which has literally dropped out of the mountain is fed by these streaming water falls. The crystal blue water sparkles under the afternoon sun. For a moment it feels like I’m in the Caribbean. And for a moment we all forget about the cotton in our mouths. Soon enough we make our decent and back to the truck where water awaits to replenish our very lives.

I’m looking at my reflection in truck window and I can’t help but laugh. I’m completely unequipped. The jeans. The Crocs. The fashion sunglasses. The useless Garmin. And again, no water. I’m thinking this will make a great blog post about being equipped for the journey, making sure we use all the resources we’ve been given.

Then I read this morning’s devotional by Oswald Chambers.

“It is not a matter of our equipment, but a matter of our poverty; not of what we bring with us, but of what God puts into us; not a matter of natural virtues, of strength of character, of knowledge, or of experience – all of that is of no avail in this concern. The only thing of value is being taken into the compelling purpose of God and being made His friend. God’s friendship is with people who know their poverty.”

So may this be an encouragement to you, as it was to me. It’s okay to be unequipped. It’s okay to not have the ability. It’s okay to be unsure of what lies ahead. It’s okay to fall. It’s okay to fail. Our thirst produced poverty digs a deeper well. And in my weakness I should boast that my friendship with God prevails in moments just like these.

So keep climbing, friends. It’s okay to be unequipped.

 

You guys, I just need to brag about God for a minute. He is seriously a wonder worker. And I just can’t believe that, when I’ve got my eyes peeled and heart wide, I get to witness the richness of His love. Everyday, if I’m aware.

So, a few days ago I posted a video update from Colorado (our summer home). If you haven’t watched it yet, you should. In the video I share a recent ranch story about a campfire friend, her vulnerable confession, and the Spirit’s prompting (later on) to share a copy of a prayer with her.

Since she left the ranch, she’s been on my heart in a big way. Specifically on the day I shared the video story. Then, just hours after I posted the video, I received an email from her. She wanted to say thanks for the prayer. She’s read it every single day. Note: she told me she’s not really the praying type. Yeah, ok. This is cool.

I emailed her back, thanking her for thanking me…(it’s a Minnesota Nice thing, I suppose) and then told her that I’d love to share my story with her sometime, that it was a long one, but in a nut shell, for years and years I tried to make all the changes in my life (with regards to drinking) on my own power, believing I had enough self control to be who I knew I really was deep inside. I just couldn’t do it on my own, at least for very long. But in perfect timing God delivered me and gave me the freedom I was longing for.

And then she called me. She wants to come back to the ranch, to her happy place, and she wants to talk with me. So, my heart is leaping with joy because I can see (what perhaps she cannot in this moment) that God has her in His sights. I mean, His eyes are always on us. Perhaps, what I mean is that God is now in her sights.

My not-the-praying-type campfire friend said, “I’ve read the prayer everyday…”

That’s the difference, right there.

If we want a transformed life. Fully. Wholly. Completely. It begins by giving our attention, devotion, thoughts to God. Our own power isn’t enough. It cannot sustain. It cannot break strong holds. And it simply cannot control the outcome.

But God can sustain. Jesus breaks the bonds that hold us back. And our greatest liberation with most surely come when allow ourselves to “be” in His presence, turning our head, and bowing our heart.

“The eyes of the LORD search the whole earth in order to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him…” -2 Chronicles 16:9

A heart shift catches the attention of our God running to and fro over the whole earth. Shift your perspective. Watch and see. Focus on the One Way and blessed, mark my words, Freedom will come.

One morning, a few weeks before we left Minnesota, during my quiet time with God I randomly had a picture in my mind of Jesus washing the disciples feet. Hmm, I thought out loud, “God, I don’t think I really understand what it means to wash peoples feet…show me what it means.”

Upon our arrival to the ranch in Colorado we found the property to be in disarray; the laundry room tore apart with no working washer, unclean cabins for who knows how long, stagnant construction projects and so on. On top that, working for a harsh, broken man with a lifestyle that hurts my heart has become the greatest challenge to me. But then, one morning shortly after we got here, I had some quiet time with the Lord and felt him whisper to me in my frustration, “Rachel, this is what it means to wash someone’s feet.” Oh. So, it’s servant work.

Since then I have read several accounts of John 13 when Jesus washes the feet of the disciples. I’ve read multiple translations, picking up bits of commentary online, talking about it with my Aaron and friends – desperately seeking God’s wisdom for me in this season, through this Word.

“Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his robe, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.” -John 13:3-5

But the time here at the ranch, thus far has been more challenging than I imagined. It’s caused very ugly things in me to come out. Frustration. Sadness. Anger. Irritability. I’ve been fighting to hold onto Christ in me, but fleshly feelings have overwhelmed me. I find myself continually asking the Lord why we are even here. Even though I know deep down that God called us here, I’ve been severely resisting the temptation to flee like Jonah.

Until the other night.

Aaron took the kids fishing so I could prepare all the breakfast items for our 25 guests, the Park family, here at the ranch to celebrate Mr. Park’s 80^th birthday. For hours, as I worked in the kitchen with the windows open I listened to all of their voices gathered together around tables, sharing a meal and telling stories. The thing that began to slowly overwhelm me was the sound of their laughter. Continual laughter and joy wafting through the screen window – and suddenly I had a thought…is this what Heaven will be like? Gathering around tables to share a lingering meal, sipping on wine, telling stories, singing songs and absolutely delighting in each others company as if the celebration of life may never end. Magical. It made me smile. I needed this. To be uplifted by their joy – especially because of my mood lately.

“He came to Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” -John 13:6-7

As I passed through the kitchen, carrying a box of eggs to the cooler, a guest from the party poked his head around the doorframe, asking if I might have a minute to talk. “Sure, come on in.” I said with a smile, though my weary spirit sighed a little. His name was Colin. He said, “I hope you don’t find this awkward but…” he stammered, ”I believe God gave me a message for you today. It was while I was taking a shower.” I raised my eyebrows, hinging on every word stumbling from his lips. I told him that I love the Lord very much and I certainly did not think he was awkward. And I watched his shoulders relax a little.

“Oh good. Well…” he paused, “the Lord wants me to tell you that the work you are doing out here, this summer, at the ranch, is all about Training. You’re being trained for what comes next.” Then Colin looked down at my feet. “Also, there’s something about your feet. The Lord kept showing me your feet…” He shook his head, unsure, and then asked, “Are you wanting to be a missionary or something?”

My mouth was wide open. My eyes burning with tears. This man, a total stranger, had no idea the things God was already speaking to me about these feet. Gah! I shared everything with him. Soon Aaron returned and Colin repeated everything he said to me, he even spoke some very interesting things into Aaron too. When he finally left for the evening I felt an enormous lifting of my spirit through this man’s prophetic word.

“I tell you the truth, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater then the one who sent him.” -John 13:16

I still don’t have a clear vision or even total understanding for the purposes God has, but that will come. I’m sure of it. For now, I’m so thankful God has reminded me (again) that I’m exactly where he wants me to be.

Once I met a man on a flight from Minneapolis to Washington D.C. who shared three unforgettable words with me. He never spoke them, actually, but they’ve captivated me even still.

I remember driving to the airport that morning while the sky was still black, sipping from my mug of coffee, still black. In the midst of quiet and calm I felt God whisper in my spirit to take notice for the person I was assigned to sit next to was assigned indeed.

I boarded the plane and took my seat, exchanging a curious smile with the man next to me. I was paying attention. As the plane departed we started a conversation, discovering we had a lot of similarities, including our age. He loved his family, his eyes smiled when he spoke about his wife, his passion for playing music was high and he was a devoted follower of Jesus. For the entire flight, we talked, leaving little margin for silence.

But there was one moment, mid-way through the flight, where I happened to glance down at his forearm: slightly turned, sleeve pushed up, the palm of his hand exposed. I saw three words, I hadn’t noticed before, permanently scripted in simple ink so bold.

I love her.

I think my mouth dropped. Because those three words, tattooed to his body, told me more about the depth of his character, than anything spoken ever could. Sure, he said loving things about his beloved and I ventured he pretty much loved her, but this…it felt like another level.

 

This was a pure statement.

This was his platform.

This was permanent.

I know there was a story. His story. But those three words said more than a mouthful ever could.

Unspoken expressions emboss the purest statement of who we are and what we stand for. May the notion give you pause. Today everyone is talking, saying something. The world is loudly screaming that we must LOVE out loud. The chatter is a great and mighty force. Yet, I’m convinced there is movement in the breeze, a language buried deep in our flesh that will speak out through unconventional platforms…if we so choose. We’re told that if we stay silent, for such a time as this…then we’re not taking a stand. But what if silence isn’t what we once thought? What if silence and spoken words are not two opposing parallels? What if quiet can play its part too?

What if proclaiming our views, our thoughts, and our ideas to make the world great again might be as simple as doing it differently. Finding a unique platform. And doing the silent work that causes heads to cock because it’s so gloriously silent, and so wonderfully profound, and so mysteriously filled with love.

What if today we stay still, palm up, skin exposed, and simply let the words we’ve got tattooed on our body, heart and soul showcase love on a new level? Make a statement without saying a word. It might be the purest platform around.