Whew! What an undertaking it’s been to begin this journey to the Gulf Coast to assist Hurricane Katrina victims. Most recently, the story has involved a marriage tester of packing for the trip, deciding what not to bring, cleaning the house, and storing stuff away to make room for our renter/housesitters. Before that, it was concern over raising funds for the BR apartment and finding an interim radio station manager for Chris, people to watch our house, and a safe place for Karen’s dad, whose condition has deteriorated since late January. Prior to that, far more faith was required when we both had to put in requests for a leave of absence at work even before we knew where we'd be, what we'd be doing, or who we’d be working with. It’s like we’ve seen the giants in the Promised Land, but have chosen to face them, and God has amazed us with His miracles. We're blessed that this trip combines both our yearning to do Katrina relief and our dream to travel the country by car too.
Not only has God come through with all the misc. things like a good place for Karen’s dad, people to cover for us while we’re gone, and the funding (thank you to all of you who gave – the funds were all raised!), but He has also provided in all the big ways: wonderful people to work with who share our vision and outlook on life, an apartment to live in, and even – only God could work this out – a couple to work with who are living in the same apartment complex as us and who are homeschooling their kindergartener! Yes, Andrew’s been enthusiastically invited to join “Rainbow Academy.”
Without a clear leading from God, we don't think we would have had the faith to do something as "crazy" as this. That's a story we haven't shared much. In the midst of all the planning for the trip, most of our conversations have been about what we're going to do and what needs to be done to make it happen. Only with a small few of you have we shared what inspired us to go in the first place. Now that we are staying at Karen’s parent’s home for a few days – between the chaos of packing and the upcoming flurry of activity – perhaps we now have a clear mind to share that story. Chris’s story is the more familiar type of “calling” testimony, so we’ll begin with his and then move on to Karen’s somewhat dramatic story . . .
Envision Mexico
with Elma Alliance
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Chris's story
As a musician and a jazz lover, I had always wanted to see New Orleans. The news of Hurricane Katrina was a shocking wake up call to us, as we were heading home from a vacation in Oregon and re-emerging into daily civilization. Since the deadly tsunami of late 2004 in southeast Asia, Karen and I have been focused a lot more on natural disasters, and overwhelmed by their magnitude and frequency of occurrence.
After Hurricanes Katrina and Rita, the news media focused very heavily on New Orleans. I knew it had been ravaged and certainly needed the publicity and support. But when I read a My Turn article in Newsweek Magazine one morning, I received a specific burden for what was to me a very unexpected place: Biloxi, Mississippi. Reading the article, I was deeply moved by the harsh reality that this entire coastal community had been obliterated in the wake of Katrina’s winds. Historic landmarks, beautiful antebellum homes, many people’s entire lives, and an entire piece of our nation’s cultural heritage had been swept away for good.
I was out on a walk with my family one evening shortly after this, strolling past the framework of what was to become the new Student Union and Recreation Center on the Central Washington University campus. This is the building in which the University’s campus radio station I manage is now located. By then, we had been feverishly redesigning our radio station facility and planning its move into the new building for nearly three years. It was a task of epic proportion that fell largely on our full-time staff of (at that time) only two…myself and one other co-worker, to accomplish. As great and grandiose as this new building and broadcast facility were to become, I remember telling Karen on that walk that my heart was elsewhere. I wanted to put my time and energy into the South, where people were thankful for merely a roof over their heads, let alone a 228,000 square foot shopping mall-like facility.
When a pastor from our local church announced he was taking a group of people to Biloxi, Mississippi over Spring Break, 2006, I was amazed. The pieces for me were starting to fit together. I definitely wanted to go, but for a couple weeks after that I made up excuses in my mind of why I really couldn’t go, not the least of which was my busy work schedule and the fact that we were in the final phases of moving into our new broadcast facility.
Nevertheless, the calling was made clear, as my supervisor and several other co-workers saw in me the need to go. They knew I would be miserable and would have forever been asking “what if?” had I not gone. The week our team spent in Biloxi was very eye-opening. All along the Mississippi coast line is utter devastation—an unbelievable and horrific site. God really used our team, and the people whose homes we worked to clean up and rebuild were truly grateful. My prayer on the plane trip down was: “Lord, I’m available. Use me for your purposes.”
He truly answered that prayer. I now have a few people with whom I’m in regular contact in the Biloxi area. Coming home was actually a bit of a shock. For more than a week, I’d gotten used to seeing leveled homes, or, if the structure was still standing, just the framework of what used to be a home. Returning to my own front porch and opening the front door, my jaw dropped to the floor. We actually had a house! It has walls, and a roof! Wow! It also looked huge, though by contemporary American standards, it is actually a starter home. I am truly grateful to have had the experience last year in Mississippi. We certainly want to re-visit the Mississippi coast during our trip down South.
In the meantime, we are also truly blessed to have been so warmly welcomed by the Baton Rouge Ministry Center and New Hope Alliance in New Orleans. The pastoral staff at both churches have a real heart for families coming to serve and partake in their ministries, and it will give us an eye-opening look at the needs still remaining in Louisiana. Every region has its own unique needs. We know the need for restoration throughout the southern states is tremendous and will remain for a long time to come. We thank God for this open door He has provided for our entire family to serve. Though I may never see the New Orleans I had always wanted to see, I know now, more importantly, that I will see the New Orleans God has intended for me to see.
After Hurricanes Katrina and Rita, the news media focused very heavily on New Orleans. I knew it had been ravaged and certainly needed the publicity and support. But when I read a My Turn article in Newsweek Magazine one morning, I received a specific burden for what was to me a very unexpected place: Biloxi, Mississippi. Reading the article, I was deeply moved by the harsh reality that this entire coastal community had been obliterated in the wake of Katrina’s winds. Historic landmarks, beautiful antebellum homes, many people’s entire lives, and an entire piece of our nation’s cultural heritage had been swept away for good.
I was out on a walk with my family one evening shortly after this, strolling past the framework of what was to become the new Student Union and Recreation Center on the Central Washington University campus. This is the building in which the University’s campus radio station I manage is now located. By then, we had been feverishly redesigning our radio station facility and planning its move into the new building for nearly three years. It was a task of epic proportion that fell largely on our full-time staff of (at that time) only two…myself and one other co-worker, to accomplish. As great and grandiose as this new building and broadcast facility were to become, I remember telling Karen on that walk that my heart was elsewhere. I wanted to put my time and energy into the South, where people were thankful for merely a roof over their heads, let alone a 228,000 square foot shopping mall-like facility.
When a pastor from our local church announced he was taking a group of people to Biloxi, Mississippi over Spring Break, 2006, I was amazed. The pieces for me were starting to fit together. I definitely wanted to go, but for a couple weeks after that I made up excuses in my mind of why I really couldn’t go, not the least of which was my busy work schedule and the fact that we were in the final phases of moving into our new broadcast facility.
Nevertheless, the calling was made clear, as my supervisor and several other co-workers saw in me the need to go. They knew I would be miserable and would have forever been asking “what if?” had I not gone. The week our team spent in Biloxi was very eye-opening. All along the Mississippi coast line is utter devastation—an unbelievable and horrific site. God really used our team, and the people whose homes we worked to clean up and rebuild were truly grateful. My prayer on the plane trip down was: “Lord, I’m available. Use me for your purposes.”
He truly answered that prayer. I now have a few people with whom I’m in regular contact in the Biloxi area. Coming home was actually a bit of a shock. For more than a week, I’d gotten used to seeing leveled homes, or, if the structure was still standing, just the framework of what used to be a home. Returning to my own front porch and opening the front door, my jaw dropped to the floor. We actually had a house! It has walls, and a roof! Wow! It also looked huge, though by contemporary American standards, it is actually a starter home. I am truly grateful to have had the experience last year in Mississippi. We certainly want to re-visit the Mississippi coast during our trip down South.
In the meantime, we are also truly blessed to have been so warmly welcomed by the Baton Rouge Ministry Center and New Hope Alliance in New Orleans. The pastoral staff at both churches have a real heart for families coming to serve and partake in their ministries, and it will give us an eye-opening look at the needs still remaining in Louisiana. Every region has its own unique needs. We know the need for restoration throughout the southern states is tremendous and will remain for a long time to come. We thank God for this open door He has provided for our entire family to serve. Though I may never see the New Orleans I had always wanted to see, I know now, more importantly, that I will see the New Orleans God has intended for me to see.
Karen's story
My story goes back to May of 2005, when I went to Venezuela. There, God began to show me some remarkable insights about myself: who I am, what makes me tick, what makes me unique, how that has influenced my relationships – for better and for worse – and for what purpose God has planted me on this earth. It began with vivid, colorful movie-like memories – filled with all five senses – of my early childhood in Sao Paulo, Brazil, as I walked the streets, entered homes, ate the food, drank beverages, interacted with South Americans, heard the sounds, and saw the sights of Venezuela. In a surrealistic twilight zone, I had one foot in Venezuela in 2005 and another in Brazil in the mid-1970s.
One of the most important revelations from these memories was how deeply distressed I had been, at age 3, to see the shanty houses across the street from our home in Sao Paulo. Moving from that neighborhood to a very wealthy one in San Jose, CA only a few years later prompted a dissonance within me, a culture shock that was never reconciled, nor understood by me or anyone, which had been the source of some conflict in my life.
At the most basic level, the victims of the hurricane represent the type of people I have always had a heart for, people whose homes represent a life so much harder than mine. Also, my appreciation for my formative years in Brazil prompts me to want to give a similar experience to my children.
But the main reason I feel sent to Hurricane Katrina victims in particular is the most remarkable part of this story. My first day home from Venezuela began the most intense, terrifying, awe-filled, and indescribable 3 ½ months of my life. You don't realize how real the spiritual world is until you come face to face with it -- in awe, terror, awe, then back again to terror. No matter which it was, the intensity was exhausting.
Alongside the terror was an intense spiritual burden that felt like a small bowling ball in the pit of my stomach. I thought I was receiving some sort of demonic wrath against me for resisting something in Venezuela, and I sought release in desperation. Unable to find people to help, I cried out to God, prayed with a depth I didn’t know possible, deeply studied the scriptures, and fasted. Between the intensity of this time and the fasting, I lost 15 pounds (when a year of faithful dieting yields 5).
Independence Day marked 7 weeks of this and it did feel like a day of freedom for me. The burden – while not lifted – was at least under control, as I felt that I had learned how to “put on the full armor of God” enough to live a relatively “normal” life. This continued for another 7 weeks. Then, without warning, the burden returned with a deeper intensity. By this time, I already had the full armor of God on, and yet, it wasn’t enough to fight this mysterious burden. It came while my own family of four was meeting my parents at a cabin in Oregon. We were away from all the news and any outside source of information. I had just been telling my family how much better I was feeling, and then it hit with greater force. Each day at the cabin, the burden grew stronger and then finally it was so strong I literally ran away into the woods without telling anyone and cried out to God, “What is going on?!” When Chris found me, he says I was clutching my stomach and screaming to the sky, “I can’t take this any more!”
Both he and Mom were understandably upset that I hadn’t told them I “needed some time away.” There's an understatement. I tried to explain the burden hit with a force that defied rational communication. But Mom continued to be angry and I screamed at my poor mom: “If you want to be angry, be angry at the enemy because something is happening and I don’t know what it is!” With that, I ran into the bedroom and screamed into the pillow. Something was happening: Hurricane Katrina.
About a week after the hurricane, after processing its connection to the terror and its burden, the burden disappeared, never to return. I finally felt myself again (though totally transformed). More than anything, that burden was my calling for this trip to the Gulf. As I followed the story of Hurricane Katrina, I was grieved by it and yet awed by its connection to the themes of my turbulent 3 ½ months. The many “HELP!” signs from needy victims, already cast-away by society, appeared to yield no results and had the greatest impact on my heart. The people who should have been there to help weren’t there. So many were stranded and abandoned. Paul tells us to “Carry one another’s burdens” (Gal 6:2). “We’re not carrying one another’s burdens,” I thought. “Even in the church, we’re not carrying one another’s burdens.” The sheer volume of hurricane victims represented to me the desperation of people today and the lack of help coming to them (partly because we are all so needy ourselves).
So God out of His great mercy finds people to “carry burdens” of intercession for those in need, and I felt this was a critical role of mine for the hurricane victims. I felt I had already been bearing some of their burdens in advance, so I continued to pray fervently on their behalf. In time, I felt a deeper and deeper longing to “get my hands dirty,” meet these people, and carry burdens right along side with them. When Chris returned from his own trip to Mississippi, he told me how much he'd like to go back as a family. Confirmation. Thank you, Lord, for making it happen.
One of the most important revelations from these memories was how deeply distressed I had been, at age 3, to see the shanty houses across the street from our home in Sao Paulo. Moving from that neighborhood to a very wealthy one in San Jose, CA only a few years later prompted a dissonance within me, a culture shock that was never reconciled, nor understood by me or anyone, which had been the source of some conflict in my life.
At the most basic level, the victims of the hurricane represent the type of people I have always had a heart for, people whose homes represent a life so much harder than mine. Also, my appreciation for my formative years in Brazil prompts me to want to give a similar experience to my children.
But the main reason I feel sent to Hurricane Katrina victims in particular is the most remarkable part of this story. My first day home from Venezuela began the most intense, terrifying, awe-filled, and indescribable 3 ½ months of my life. You don't realize how real the spiritual world is until you come face to face with it -- in awe, terror, awe, then back again to terror. No matter which it was, the intensity was exhausting.
Alongside the terror was an intense spiritual burden that felt like a small bowling ball in the pit of my stomach. I thought I was receiving some sort of demonic wrath against me for resisting something in Venezuela, and I sought release in desperation. Unable to find people to help, I cried out to God, prayed with a depth I didn’t know possible, deeply studied the scriptures, and fasted. Between the intensity of this time and the fasting, I lost 15 pounds (when a year of faithful dieting yields 5).
Independence Day marked 7 weeks of this and it did feel like a day of freedom for me. The burden – while not lifted – was at least under control, as I felt that I had learned how to “put on the full armor of God” enough to live a relatively “normal” life. This continued for another 7 weeks. Then, without warning, the burden returned with a deeper intensity. By this time, I already had the full armor of God on, and yet, it wasn’t enough to fight this mysterious burden. It came while my own family of four was meeting my parents at a cabin in Oregon. We were away from all the news and any outside source of information. I had just been telling my family how much better I was feeling, and then it hit with greater force. Each day at the cabin, the burden grew stronger and then finally it was so strong I literally ran away into the woods without telling anyone and cried out to God, “What is going on?!” When Chris found me, he says I was clutching my stomach and screaming to the sky, “I can’t take this any more!”
Both he and Mom were understandably upset that I hadn’t told them I “needed some time away.” There's an understatement. I tried to explain the burden hit with a force that defied rational communication. But Mom continued to be angry and I screamed at my poor mom: “If you want to be angry, be angry at the enemy because something is happening and I don’t know what it is!” With that, I ran into the bedroom and screamed into the pillow. Something was happening: Hurricane Katrina.
About a week after the hurricane, after processing its connection to the terror and its burden, the burden disappeared, never to return. I finally felt myself again (though totally transformed). More than anything, that burden was my calling for this trip to the Gulf. As I followed the story of Hurricane Katrina, I was grieved by it and yet awed by its connection to the themes of my turbulent 3 ½ months. The many “HELP!” signs from needy victims, already cast-away by society, appeared to yield no results and had the greatest impact on my heart. The people who should have been there to help weren’t there. So many were stranded and abandoned. Paul tells us to “Carry one another’s burdens” (Gal 6:2). “We’re not carrying one another’s burdens,” I thought. “Even in the church, we’re not carrying one another’s burdens.” The sheer volume of hurricane victims represented to me the desperation of people today and the lack of help coming to them (partly because we are all so needy ourselves).
So God out of His great mercy finds people to “carry burdens” of intercession for those in need, and I felt this was a critical role of mine for the hurricane victims. I felt I had already been bearing some of their burdens in advance, so I continued to pray fervently on their behalf. In time, I felt a deeper and deeper longing to “get my hands dirty,” meet these people, and carry burdens right along side with them. When Chris returned from his own trip to Mississippi, he told me how much he'd like to go back as a family. Confirmation. Thank you, Lord, for making it happen.
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