God, I think about the way my hands fumble to sew words together. I think about the way I find myself praying poetry and yet, when I try to write anything permanent, it doesn’t take root- it doesn’t seem to stick and sculpt like Your words do. It leaves me with a furrowed brow and a soft smile on my face in the best way because I know it’s simply because You are holy.

My words dance, but only because You hold them by string. Because that’s all they are- words. An ensemble of eloquence, assembled together rhythmically. But Your Word? God, Your Word has a heart-beat– Your Word breathes. It was there in the beginning and it ages with grace, unchanged. Your Word marries flesh and tendons to bones, forming nothing into known. And I hold it.

But I confess that often times I see it less than what my poetry is because I don’t see the beauty of Your breath dancing in it. But God, while my words are being held by Your strings, Your Word stands on its own.

And I want to stand and dance with it.

***

Throughout spring break, while serving other university students in South Padre, I was trying to write a poem for my church’s Easter service in my free time. I kept finding myself frustrated at the fact that my poetry will never compare to David’s psalms or the imagery found in Hosea. It sounds blasphemous, but it’s honest.

My love of the Word of God has grown exponentially within the past year, and I can’t even begin to place what started it. But then again, have you read it? It’s rich.  You don’t need inspiration to read it because it is already inspired. I don’t write that statement looking down at you with a pointed finger. I write it to myself, hoping that I will believe it and that my belief will beget dependence. This is just a degree of glory I have transformed into, and I pray it takes root (2Corin 3:18). I’ve never read the whole bible, but lately the sun finds me sitting before my bible on the floor soaking everything in when it wakes up. The Bible reveals to me who God is and it reveals to me who I am in Him.

I was sobered last week at seeing the power of the Word of God. It’s living and active and it is truly water to those who are thirsty, it’s food for those who have no money, it is life for those who have nothing to offer. I was presented the opportunity to share one of my favorite stories from the Bible this week (thanks to my friend Hailey’s beautiful henna!) about a woman in the book of Luke (8:40-48). After bleeding for twelve years, at the touch of Jesus’ robe, her faith makes her well and gives her the name Daughter. I shared the story with a junior named Michael, visiting Padre for spring break. It was his first time to hear the story, and he agreed with me that it was one of the most beautiful stories he had ever heard. He proceeded to open up and relate with me on levels of depression and hardship, just as I relate to the woman in the story. I shared that after searching for years, like the woman, I found Jesus to be the only one who could heal me of my sadness and hopelessness. He shared that his has been the community he has found within his fraternity. We discussed healthy community and how that relates to what Jesus wants for us until we dropped him and his buddies off. Before Michael went, I had the opportunity to pray over him, and after we said amen, he looks up and says, “thank you.” With tears in his eyes, and pointing at my arm, he choked, “I never want to forget that story.”

Isaiah 55 says that the Word of God does not return void. All we have to do is put it forth in faith, and it will move mountains.

***

One week after getting approved for Chad, I found myself standing on a beach looking out at the one earthly thing that gives us a glimpse of eternity. I was lost in a crowd of eight-hundred university students singing in between waves of sea-salt wind, “you call me out upon the waters, the great unknown where feet may fail, and there I find you in the mystery, in oceans deep, my faith will stand.” I felt the Spirit of God inhabiting the space next to me, and he took my hand, squeezing it. “And I will call upon your name, and keep my eyes above the waves when oceans rise.” The ubiquitous depth of the ocean began to sober me up as I became acutely aware of how little control I have over my life. Until this moment, I think I had unconsciously looked at the opportunity to go to Chad as something I could do for God. The opportunity was about fulfilling my dreams and ensuring that my desire to be of some seemingly significant piece in the Kingdom of Heaven came to fruition. And standing there, looking out into the watery abyss, I saw the promise of God.

I was reminded of Abraham and Sarah, depraved of the ability to bring God’s promise to life by their human capacity. Sarah was barren without child, and Abraham was old in his age. Together they appeared unfit and unqualified to bring forth many nations. But God promised. And the promise came after the knowledge that Sarah was barren.

God knew that I was working in my own human ingenuity, trying to impress him with my weak abilities to plan, organize, and fundraise. He knew this, and still he promised. However, he is keeping me humbled on bruised knees in prayer because there is so much about Chad I still don’t know. But what a beautiful place to be. He is making me so utterly dependent on him that I can’t afford to place my focus anywhere else because if I do, I’ll sink.

The presence of the Spirit of the Living God inhabited that island for me that week in a completely different way than it has in the past four years. The ocean called to me as eternity calls to all of us in the deepest parts of ourselves. At night, I couldn’t help but see the Spirit brooding like a bird above the watery abyss. A hum of hallelujah followed me around like a sweet fragrance. His presence is a reminder that he brings things into existence that do not exist, just as it was for the earth & just as it is for me.

Ma salaamah,

Kati Rae

I ache knowing that, aside from making cards, I haven’t freely created in quite some time. Even more so, it’s been longer since I have taken the time to sit down, kiss pen to paper, and write. But as my spirit sighs for my thoughts to freely dance on paper, I am thankful to know that truly, writing & creating make me come alive. I’m starting to feel the little tickle in my nose that comes before crying simply just thinking about what a good gift I’ve been given by a good Father- and I claim it as a gift. Redemption sings in that sentence because I wouldn’t have claimed it a year ago.

Another thing that I would never have guessed I would be doing a year ago? Living in a dorm room, on a hall with more than twenty girls, loving them so much it hurts. In my mind, I was not a person cut out for girl’s ministry. I honestly resented the thought of being stuck down to a group of girls. Faithfully, the Lord cleaned (and continues to clean) my heart of its selfishness and pride. There are a small handful of lovely ladies, who live on the hall and off the hall, that I have had the opportunity to lead, counsel, and love furiously by the side of my wonderful roommate, who serves as the Resident’s Assistant on our hall. Clichés are clichés because they’re true: my life wouldn’t be the same without them. As much as I believe that followers of Jesus are to become all things for all people (1 Corinthians 9:22), I believe that I was created with a tenderness and gentleness designed to minister especially to women. Another good gift I’ve been given by a good Father.

Recently I have taken the two gifts, laid them back at my Father’s feet, and told Him, He can do whatever He wants to with them. They’re His & I’m only along for the ride.

So He has.

Through TEAM Missions, I have applied for the position of the Creative Arts Facilitator at a vulnerable women’s ministry in Chad, Africa. I would be using creative arts such as drama, art, writing, and music to minister and serve women who are vulnerable in their surrounding environments, such as the war in Syria or at the hands of traffickers. My time spent serving there could range from 3-9 months, depending on the amount of funds raised, after I graduate in August. Majority of the population in Chad practice Islam, which presents a magnificent opportunity to have beautiful conversations about Allah and His Son, Jesus. (Fun fact: I signed up last minute for a course on ‘Understanding Islam’ at the beginning of the semester because one of my psych classes didn’t make. I applied for the position a week later, ignorant in knowing that I would predominately be working with Muslim women!).

The stunned, awe-filled, glory laughing, wonder story has already been filled with God working in ways immeasurably more than I could have ever asked for. It’s like whenever you finally confess that you have a crush on someone- you instantly see or hear about them everywhere you go. The same has happened with Chad, a country that I probably haven’t thought about since my 9^th grade world geography class. I have fallen in love with the country of Chad and Muslims. There isn’t a day when I don’t holy laugh or weep at the excitement I feel in seeing my dreams coming true.  With so many uncertainties about my future, I know deep in my spirit, that I was created to serve in this role, if only for a season.

I hope that this story inspires you to believe in the gifts God has given you. I hope you start dreaming of immeasurably more (Ephesians 3:20). I pray that He will grow you in the knowledge of Himself, so you may know the hope to which He has called you, how rich He feels when He looks at you, and better understand the astronomic power that dwells within you (Ephesians 1:17-19).

Please pray for the people in Chad, that they would come to know Jesus personally through the missionaries working there and through the power of His Spirit.

Ma salaamah (Arabic for ‘in peace’),

Kati Rae