(The following is a speech I will give, am giving, gave - depending on when you read this - at my five-year recognition chapel at OMS. If you'd rather hear it, I'm sure I'll post a link to it somewhere. There's a ton more I could talk about after five years, and I probably will in the blog soon. For now, enjoy.)
All right. Here we go.
Five years ago, I started working here. But the journey really started about seven and a half years ago when I traveled to Sierra Leone, West Africa. On that trip, as I looked out over the city of Freetown, I felt that God was telling me that my future would involve missions of some kind. Six months later, I was interviewing with OMS.
That last one may seem a little incongruous with the others. And it may seem hard to come away from a place like Auschwitz feeling hopeful. Even South Asia might seem like a stretch.
But for as difficult as a place like South Asia is, the Gospel is advancing. One of the things I vividly recall is standing on the shore watching dozens of people be baptized. It's a pretty incredible sight, made all the more remarkable when you know that persecution is not just a buzzword for these people. It's a reality. When I got off the plane in the capital, there was a notable oppression of spirit. I could almost feel the enemy working. But that just means he's scared. Satan doesn't have to work hard when he knows he's in control of a place.
Which brings us to Auschwitz. People talk about that place as though they can almost hear the cries of victims. And it is admittedly creepy to walk through the gas chambers. But mostly, I felt empty. I felt like I was seeing the pinnacle of evil. Like Satan had gotten things started and then let humanity take over, and this is what they achieved.
But I was talking about hope. And as we know from history, the Allies won. People realized what they were capable of. And for a little while, people pursued righteousness. Auschwitz now stands as a memorial and as a symbol of things that should never happen again.
Okay, so I sometimes go off on these rants on my blog. I apologize.
Let's go back to that third year. I finally felt like I was fitting in, or at least my brand of crazy was appreciated. So naturally, things started going wrong. I was in a pretty severe depression for several months. And I need to address this because we don't talk about depression much in Christian circles. I understand that. I don't really want to talk about it myself. But I talked to a counselor at my church about it, and she very nicely handed me a pamphlet that said my depression was a sign that I probably had a secret sin or that I wasn't close enough to Jesus. I'm here to tell you that the only reason I made it through is because I was desperately clinging to Jesus. He gave me hope that I would get out of the valley. And I eventually did.
I was pretty sure I'd be leaving OMS after three years, which was extremely disappointing. I felt like I was becoming the best version of myself here, and I didn't know how that would translate in the wider world. My Plan had changed, and I didn't like that.
But then I was offered a beacon of hope. A chance to stay for one more year. I'm not going to lie. It was a hard year. I was frustrated. I felt like I was losing whatever perspective I'd gained. So when the year was up, I was finally ready to leave. I had begged God for two more years. And now I was begging to move on.
It really looked like it was going to happen, too. My contract was up, I'd applied elsewhere, and yet every time I went to pack up my things, I'd hit a wall. It felt wrong.
And then ECC came calling. And I knew God was telling me to stay. I would officially be at OMS for a full five years. It's been a long road. I don't know how you guys focus on just one thing that happened. Five years is a long time.
But if I had to narrow it down to one lesson, that lesson would be hope. I'm a pretty cynical person. I will pretty much always see the worst-case scenario. But I have also become a hopeful person. And the source of my hope is and always will be Jesus Christ. I have been redeemed, and that gives me hope for the rest of the world. If even one third of the people we reach with our one billion opportunity gives their life to Jesus, can you imagine what that would do to the world?
I don't know where I will be five years from now. I'd love to be back up here, sharing my special brand of eccentricity and failing to concentrate on just one thing about the next five years. But wherever I am, I hope that I'm bringing hope to others. That's my new Plan.
Before I leave, I want to publicly thank a few people for getting me through the last five years. To my parents, for your unwavering support and for letting me cry on your shoulders, thank you. To my sisters, who gave me their own special brand of encouragement, thanks, I guess. To Lori McFall, for being a second mom, a sister, and a best friend rolled into one, thank you. To Sam Downey, for being a port in a stormy sea, thank you. To all of you, for sharing in my journey, thank you. And to God, for giving me exactly what I need when I need it, whether I like it or not, thank you.
All right. Here we go.
I've been struggling with what to say on this, the fifth plus a bit anniversary of my time at OMS, ever since Kathy told me about it back in August.
Okay, if you know me, you know that's not entirely accurate. I've been freaking out about it ever since I learned we do this kind of thing at OMS.
So, about five years.
I've asked quite a few people what I should talk about today. Some were helpful. Some were not. I credit Foster Pilcher with the idea of writing a blog post and just reading that. So I did. Incidentally, if you'd like to read along, this posted about ten minutes ago. becausehislovecompelsus.blogspot.com
Five years ago, I started working here. But the journey really started about seven and a half years ago when I traveled to Sierra Leone, West Africa. On that trip, as I looked out over the city of Freetown, I felt that God was telling me that my future would involve missions of some kind. Six months later, I was interviewing with OMS.
I'll be honest. It took me a while to figure this place out. Y'all are holiness people, and as a rule, you're a little more touchy-feely than I'm used to. I also come from a denomination that historically has had a fairly narrow definition of the word 'missionary.' There are some people who do not consider what we do in HQ to be missionary work. That's something I've had to overcome both personally and professionally.
So, two years. That's what I promised God. I'll do this mission thing for two years, and then I'll move on to The Plan. If you're not following along, The Plan is capitalized. I like Plans. I like routine, I like knowing what the next thing is. My Birkman is quite clear on this.
So imagine my surprise when I reached the end of that two years and thought, "You know, I think I could do another year." You're smiling, but this was by no means a sure thing.
Before we get to that, though, there are two things I need to highlight about those two years, and they actually happened within months of each other. First, I traveled to Thailand and South Asia in April 2011. Mike Dragon said last week that the first thing they do when you visit South Asia is break your heart. And he's right. I honestly didn't know how to deal with that trip. So I did the worst thing possible and shut down. I still have trouble talking about it.
Then, in June of 2011, still not quite recovered, I went to Poland. And yes, I went for ministry purposes, but I want to talk about the day I spent in Auschwitz and Birkenau.
I'm a history major. No matter what else I do in this life, I will always identify as a historian. And I had a lot of head knowledge about the Holocaust before this trip. I knew the numbers, I had seen the photos, I heard eyewitness accounts.
But now I was walking where it happened. I saw the barracks designed for horses that instead housed hundreds of people. I saw desperate words scrawled on the walls of death chambers. I saw rooms of suitcases, shoes, and human hair stolen from millions of people.
Needless to say, it was pretty impactful.
I came away from those trips with three things made abundantly clear.
I came away from those trips with three things made abundantly clear.
1. Satan is very real.
2. It is a lot easier to serve evil than it is to do good.
3. We have hope.
That last one may seem a little incongruous with the others. And it may seem hard to come away from a place like Auschwitz feeling hopeful. Even South Asia might seem like a stretch.
But for as difficult as a place like South Asia is, the Gospel is advancing. One of the things I vividly recall is standing on the shore watching dozens of people be baptized. It's a pretty incredible sight, made all the more remarkable when you know that persecution is not just a buzzword for these people. It's a reality. When I got off the plane in the capital, there was a notable oppression of spirit. I could almost feel the enemy working. But that just means he's scared. Satan doesn't have to work hard when he knows he's in control of a place.
Which brings us to Auschwitz. People talk about that place as though they can almost hear the cries of victims. And it is admittedly creepy to walk through the gas chambers. But mostly, I felt empty. I felt like I was seeing the pinnacle of evil. Like Satan had gotten things started and then let humanity take over, and this is what they achieved.
But I was talking about hope. And as we know from history, the Allies won. People realized what they were capable of. And for a little while, people pursued righteousness. Auschwitz now stands as a memorial and as a symbol of things that should never happen again.
Okay, so I sometimes go off on these rants on my blog. I apologize.
Let's go back to that third year. I finally felt like I was fitting in, or at least my brand of crazy was appreciated. So naturally, things started going wrong. I was in a pretty severe depression for several months. And I need to address this because we don't talk about depression much in Christian circles. I understand that. I don't really want to talk about it myself. But I talked to a counselor at my church about it, and she very nicely handed me a pamphlet that said my depression was a sign that I probably had a secret sin or that I wasn't close enough to Jesus. I'm here to tell you that the only reason I made it through is because I was desperately clinging to Jesus. He gave me hope that I would get out of the valley. And I eventually did.
I was pretty sure I'd be leaving OMS after three years, which was extremely disappointing. I felt like I was becoming the best version of myself here, and I didn't know how that would translate in the wider world. My Plan had changed, and I didn't like that.
But then I was offered a beacon of hope. A chance to stay for one more year. I'm not going to lie. It was a hard year. I was frustrated. I felt like I was losing whatever perspective I'd gained. So when the year was up, I was finally ready to leave. I had begged God for two more years. And now I was begging to move on.
It really looked like it was going to happen, too. My contract was up, I'd applied elsewhere, and yet every time I went to pack up my things, I'd hit a wall. It felt wrong.
And then ECC came calling. And I knew God was telling me to stay. I would officially be at OMS for a full five years. It's been a long road. I don't know how you guys focus on just one thing that happened. Five years is a long time.
But if I had to narrow it down to one lesson, that lesson would be hope. I'm a pretty cynical person. I will pretty much always see the worst-case scenario. But I have also become a hopeful person. And the source of my hope is and always will be Jesus Christ. I have been redeemed, and that gives me hope for the rest of the world. If even one third of the people we reach with our one billion opportunity gives their life to Jesus, can you imagine what that would do to the world?
I don't know where I will be five years from now. I'd love to be back up here, sharing my special brand of eccentricity and failing to concentrate on just one thing about the next five years. But wherever I am, I hope that I'm bringing hope to others. That's my new Plan.
Before I leave, I want to publicly thank a few people for getting me through the last five years. To my parents, for your unwavering support and for letting me cry on your shoulders, thank you. To my sisters, who gave me their own special brand of encouragement, thanks, I guess. To Lori McFall, for being a second mom, a sister, and a best friend rolled into one, thank you. To Sam Downey, for being a port in a stormy sea, thank you. To all of you, for sharing in my journey, thank you. And to God, for giving me exactly what I need when I need it, whether I like it or not, thank you.
