Karis Waters's Blog, page 8

Come, O Come, Emmanuel

Why, Lord? How long, Lord?

I say it with David and countless other people through the ages.

Why, Lord? How long?

Why did this good man die of cancer? Why these beautiful, godly women with empty arms longing for husband and children? Why these babies dying and across the sea my little brothers and sisters are getting their heads cut off because they don’t recant their faith in Jesus? 

O come, O come, Emmanuel. God be with us.

Across the hospital beds and across the centuries and across the graves of our loved ones in the hard, frozen earth we all say and hear the same cry.

Why, Lord? How long, Lord? Come and save us!

And the world is tilting crazier by the minute and white kill black and black kill white and our neighborhoods go up in flames and where is the Prince of Peace now?

Come, O come, Emmanuel. God be with us. 

And out of the endless black of 400 years of silence, of waiting, of wondering and asking why and how long, Lord, God answered the cry of His people and sent hope in the form of a baby who would rescue His people and defeat death, once for all. 

Isn’t this why I really celebrate Christmas? Why I have utter and inexpressible joy this season despite hurt and loneliness and brokenness?

Not because I love presents and Christmas trees and spiced cider and candles and getting together with family and eating more chocolate than any sane person should eat (though I do).

Because our cries, my cries, have been heard and answered.

“A people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death, a light has dawned.” Is. 9:2

And yes, babies still die and marriages die and hopes and dreams and futures die, because it’s still a broken and sinful world. You may feel, like me, that deep darkness pressing in on you, like you’re still there in those 400 years of crying out in the silent waiting.

But the Messiah did come, just as He promised, and saved us from our sin. And He will come again, and heal all our sickness and brokenness, and every color and nation will praise Him together, and He will live among His people forever.

Among us. With us. Emmanuel.

And He left His Spirit with us, that literal flame of hope in the dark waiting for the Messiah to come again. His presence with us.

O come, O come, Emmanuel. God with us. And He is.

On the long days and years of waiting – Emmanuel. Into the most war-torn regions of the world – Emmanuel.

At gravesides and in hospital rooms and on those days when your 12-year-old daughter’s beautiful blond hair falls out – Emmanuel.

God is with us.

“And He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”

~ Isaiah 9:6

Carlisle Vineyard – Bringing Hope to the City

If you’ve been following my journey for awhile, you’ll have heard bits and snippets about my church home-away-from-home, Carlisle Vineyard.

I came to the first CV small group about three months into the life of this church plant (our leaders, Andy and Rho, came the same time I did in 2013), and the growth I’ve seen since then has been amazing.

Carlisle and northern England has historically been resistant to the Gospel, but God is truly doing amazing things!

When I left for furlough, the church was still a small core group of about 30 people. Alex (feature photo, at left) and her husband are college students who had just started coming—and now are leaders in the church!

The Carlisle Vineyard coffee bar ladies!

While I was gone, CV had a community barbecue.

Several people from the surrounding area came to the barbecue, got involved at CV, and either accepted Christ for the first time or reconnected after a time away (see Mona and Chloe, at left and right).

It’s been such a blessing to see the growth in the church, both in numbers and in individuals, and meet all the new members of my CV family!

This past weekend an evangelist from CV’s “sending/mother” church, Causeway Coast Vineyard in Northern Ireland, came to visit.

He and several people from the church went out on the streets in the city centre to speak to people about Jesus and pray for them. This Saturday 12 people prayed to accept Christ!

Yesterday he spoke at church as well. We had a record crowd, with more than 80 people coming (not counting kids) and several people making decisions to follow Jesus. So exciting!

 

Serving coffee and tea to visitors and regulars during the “brunch” before the service starts.

One of the joys for me has been getting to know several of these new or young believers and being able to encourage them in their faith and walk with God.

I’m continually amazed and encouraged by their faith and enthusiasm! Please pray for them and for me.

Be Brave: Women’s Conference

Nov. 7-9th, I joined eleven other ladies from CV popped over to the northern coast of Northern Ireland for a women’s conference at Causeway Coast Vineyard.

I had the privilege of praying for and receiving prayer from this amazing woman, Hilary, who is a part of the CCV church.

Such an incredible time of hearing from the Lord, connecting with each other, enjoying fresh ocean air and challenging each other to “Be Brave” for God!

 

A stroll through Carlisle

Every Saturday morning I have a tradition. I walk down my street of brick row houses, their chimneys puffing smoke like lots of old, skinny men huddled together for warmth. I cross the stone bridge over a little river winding its quiet, dignified way through Carlisle, in northern England.

Across the street the well-preserved walls of Carlisle Castle – once the focal point of the Scots/English border wars for centuries – holds its peace under grey skies. I turn right and wander up cobbled streets, past a soaring Gothic cathedral  with sections dating back to the 1100s, and duck into a narrow lane (creatively dubbed “long lane”) that spits me back out onto yet another cobbled street in the Carlisle city centre.

By now the city is starting to wake up, and I wind my way between clusters of young lads and spotlessly-dressed old women dragging two-wheeled shopping trolleys behind them. Past the butcher shop and the Kings Head Pub (serving ale in that location since the 10th century, if they’re to be believed), I detour into a cobbled courtyard for my weekly indulgence of choice – the Shabby Scholar.

Though not the oldest establishment on the block (by a few centuries), the Shabby Scholar is my eatery of choice for a quiet morning of reading a favorite book or writing letters home over a pot of hot chai tea with lemon, honey, and sometimes a little cream. A combination coffeeshop, cafe and bar, the Shabby Scholar embodies English “shabby chic” charm. It’s consistently busy, but on Saturdays it’s always hopping with locals coming in for a “cuppa” with friends or to try out this month’s seasonal menu.

The weather may be cold and rainy outside (in Carlisle, it usually is), but inside it’s a haven of warmth, and staff who greet me by name, and big band swing music playing beneath the soundtrack of thick Cumbrian accents and muted laughter. There’s something about the cozy atmosphere and a location steeped in history that just refreshes and inspires creativity. I let myself drift and wonder how many people for how many years have walked across those courtyard stones through the window.

Centuries of people, never faces in a crowd, each with their own stories of struggle and heartache and joy and relief and all the little moments that make life a little more worth living. One of the most charming benefits of making my temporary home in this quaint little city are the multitude of hole-in-the-wall businesses, no two alike, each with their own style and history and distinctive flavor.

Chain restaurants and franchise coffeeshops may be reliable, but they just don’t inspire me like these hidden jewels. Walls don’t really talk. That’s only a silly saying. But in this place, I feel like they do. And that’s almost the same thing.

Haiti – Light in the Dark

Haiti is a Caribbean island nation with some of the most beautiful tropical beaches in the world.

It’s also one of the poorest nations in the world, its people living for generations under the control of voodoo and spirit worship.

That’s starting to change as the power of the name of Jesus sets Haitians free from voodoo and gives them freedom and hope for the future.

This month myself and Jay, our OMNIvision videographer, had the privilege of going to Haiti to tell OM’s part of the story.

Merceron

One of videos we will be producing tells the continuing story of the legacy of “Pastor Marc,” an OM native missionary who was killed two years ago in a robbery.

Pastor Marc planted a church in Merceron, a rural village that for many years had been a stronghold of voodoo worship.

Even though he was murdered before they were completed, Pastor Marc was instrumental in bringing the church, a school, and a chicken business project to fund the school into Merceron. He visited many voodoo priests in their homes and prayed for them.

One finally chose to accept Jesus Christ,  and many other people soon followed.

Now, two years after Pastor Marc’s death, we visited a church packed to overflowing. Just last month another voodoo priest left the area. Ten of his followers came to the church and accepted Christ.

“This is a great victory for the community,” said Adner Raymond, a Merceron church leader who was discipled by Pastor Marc.

Haitian Missionaries

Pastor Marc had a vision to mobilize the Haitian church into missions, and now that’s becoming a reality.

We interviewed two of six Haitians who are joining OM full-time this year. OM Haiti’s vision is to send missionaries to French-speaking North Africa.

“We have been receiving for a long time,” said Ludwig, a Haitian who leads OM’s ministry in Haiti. “Now it is time to send out with the Gospel so others can be saved.”

Every journey has its bumps

This post was first published on the Crosshair Press weekly blog. Pop over to their website for more great posts on books, entertainment and life! 

You’ve never seen potholes until you’ve been to a Third World country. These roads aren’t fooling around. They have potholes that eat four-wheel-drive trucks for breakfast.

But that’s the thing. Those trucks are made to take it.

In my most recent trip to rural Haiti I personally witnessed a little Ford Ranger pick-up weighed down with people and baggage drive down into a pothole filled with water and emerge moments later out the other side, motor growling away and water streaming off.

The past three weeks I’ve been on 12 planes going to two countries and in three time zones. I’ve traveled through the air, down 16-lane freeways in Atlanta and over a rocky dirt track that passed for a road…on a good day. People often think that my job traveling the world and making videos about ministries and people and relief projects is really glamorous. I just laugh.

Because often the road gets a little (or a lot) bumpy. The plane hits turbulence. The truck gets eaten by a pothole. Some jerk cuts us off in Atlanta traffic and everyone has to slam on their brakes. We get hit by a motorbike. (Yes, this really happened). The road washes out and I have to hike up a massive hill in 100-degree heat and 90 percent humidity carrying a camera bag that probably weighs half as much as I do and dodging goats, children, and sewage.

Sometimes the obstacles in the road are unexpected. One day we were delayed because a huge black pig inhabited a massive puddle in the road in front of us. Completely unfazed by deafening horn-honking or the SUV creeping toward him, the pig was only persuaded to move by laughing locals chucking rocks at him.

Other times I’ve been distracted from my journey by sights both startling and rather horrifying, as in the case of this overloaded truck winding its way down a mountain road.

Yes. Those are goats. Tied up and strung along the side of a truck racing down a mountainside.

Although truth be told, sometimes it’s those unexpected bumps and obstacles you encounter along the way that make the best stories.

Every journey comes with its share of bumps and unforeseen problems that test my patience and sanity. Sometimes I begin to rethink my life choices. Why do I even try? It’d be so much easier to just give up. Find an easier road.

I could drive home on a smooth highway where people don’t use horns like they’re going out of style and sit at home in my air-conditioning and drink cold water that won’t make me sick. So why don’t I? Because the people at the end of the road are worth it.

Poor children at a tent school in a town near the epicenter of the 2010 earthquake.

These young students are growing up and trying to get an education in the poorest nation in the northern hemisphere. But they were waiting with smiles and hugs and great excitement when I got to the end of that road.

Did they know the difficulty of the journey I’d taken to be there with them? No. Of course, not. I don’t understand the difficulties they face every day, struggling to concentrate because the only thing they’ll eat that day is what the school gives them.

But they’re not any less important to God because their tough journey goes unseen by the rest of the world. And because I toughed out a few bumps, dodged a few potholes and sat in a plane for a few (okay, a lot) of hours, I got to be the one to hug on them and tell their story so maybe, some day, their school, their lives, can be rebuilt.

 

Maybe you’ve hit a few bumps in your road, or it’s taken an unexpected turn and some strange obstacles have cropped up in your path. Maybe your marriage is on the rocks, a boss or co-worker keeps getting in your way, or the responsibilities of life are trying to swallow you up.

Don’t give up. The people at the end of your journey are worth it.

On my way back from Haiti I flew back to Kansas for a few days and surprised my family and friends. It wasn’t an easy journey. Flights were delayed, I had a bad case of “Haiti stomach,” I was exhausted and the last thing I wanted to do was get on another plane.

But I did. You know why? I knew two of my best friends were waiting at the end of the road with hugs and love and as much Mexican food as I could eat. I knew my mom would come running down the front walk screaming and crying and hugging me like she’d never let go.

I had strength and determination to reach the end of the road because I knew the people waiting for me were worth every bump, every bruise, every long, cramped hour. And I’d make the journey again in a heartbeat if I could. So worth it.

Don’t give up on the people at the end of your road, just because you hit a few bumps. Or a pig. In the end, they are worth the journey. 

My excited family when I “dropped by” for a surprise visit.

What bumps and unexpected obstacles are you facing in your journey? What people make the journey worth the difficulties? 

Why do we rest (and what does that look like?)

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.”

Ecclesiastes 3:1

Sometimes I think the dirtiest word in Christian circles is a four-letter word you might not expect: rest.

Do you feel that way sometimes? Because we have a purpose and calling, and there’s always at least one more good thing to do, we feel as if we have no right to rest. Is this really what the Bible says? Not at all!  But I often feel like I’m fighting an uphill battle to be healthy, refreshed and truly rested.

Part of it is this mentality we have that if we’re resting we must not be doing what God’s called us to do. Part of it’s my own unreasonable expectations on myself and the never-ending to-do list.

Whatever the reason(s), I find it  really difficult to allow myself to truly take time and rest.  I have been utterly and completely exhausted, emotionally, spiritually and physically. I needed to rest.

Chai tea with lemon and honey, a favorite at the Shabby Scholor, a cafe and coffeeshop where I go every Saturday to get some time with Jesus!

But practically what does that look like? Does that mean just lying around on the couch? (Though sometimes that’s needed too). I’ve found for me it needs to be much more intentional.

That means the past couple weeks I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time sleeping and working on eating healthier and more consistently. To emotionally decompress I’ve done a lot of sitting in coffeeshops  with a book, Skyping with friends and family to catch up and debrief; journaling prayers and processing. I’ve made sure I’ve gotten chunks of time to spend in prayer, reading my Bible, going to church, etc.

And you know what? I’m much better able to serve because I took time to rest.

After all, we can’t give away what we don’t have.