Young Life Update.

No post last week because I was out of town. I’m back though. Yes, yes…working on my fall calendar now. Believe me, I am back and it’s booking up fast!

Here’s a copy of the newsletter I sent out to some of my precious Young Life support team about our recent trip to camp! It was wonderful!! Enjoy.

 

Can it seriously be August already? Surely I am not the only one in denial of how quickly time is flying by! I want you to know what an incredible summer it has been and how unbelievably grateful I am to watch the Lord at work through Young Life.

Last week, we took students to Frontier Ranch, Young Life’s beautiful camp in Buena Vista, Colorado. 50 degree weather, gorgeous mountains all around, adventure at every turn and a camp filled with adults genuinely pursuing the hearts of high school students for the sake of Christ. It was awesome.

I thought you might enjoy a glimpse of how I saw Jesus at work this week:
(*Names have been changed to protect confidentiality.)

Selena*: On the second night of camp, Selena shared with our cabin “I’m an athiest and have been for years. I know Young Life is a place where anybody can come and have fun, but I also know there’s this spiritual side of it, too, and I’m ok with that. When I’m honest, I really want to know more about that side of things. Because maybe I’m open to changing.” After a week filled with fun, laughter and a steadily building relationship with Selena, I was shocked by how she seemed to flip a switch on the last day of camp. That morning, she cussed me out multiple times for no reason, followed by hours of an angry silent treatment directed at me and another leader, Shea. After yelling at her cabin mates, Selena finally talked with us. Through many tears said “It’s just that I’ve never had anybody who cared like this and I don’t think it could be real.” We talked and I shared the hope of Christ with her, telling her I could give her all sorts of tips but at the end of the day, the only thing that can really change a heart is Christ. My desire wasn’t to pressure her to accept Christ in that moment, but rather to give her something to think about the next time she felt herself begin to question. She sat by me on the 15 hour bus ride home. No real conversation, but no longer angy. We slept, listened to music, and watched the Jackie Robinson movie “42” on my iPad. I gave her a hug when she went home and prayed once again for her heart, believing that someday she might come to know Jesus. Little did I know, on her own, she prayed to trust Christ with her life while we rode home from Colorado. She shared this with us a few days later. I’m still a bit speechless. Praise Him!

Anna*: On a one-on-one the last day of camp with 15-year-old Anna told me her history of abuse and brokenness. All week long, she resisted anything deep. She pretended to sleep during our cabin time, though she came alive during anything fun. As we talked with our feet dipped in the pool, I expected a very surface level conversation, but, instead, she hugged me tight and bawled at the thought of going home. Anna told me about how she finally had hope because of Jesus changing her heart. I was amazed. She is absolutely a treasure and because of her unique homelife, I’ve invited her to stay in my guest “room” (aka – twin bed in a closet, let’s be realistic) as often as she’d like. I continue to pray for her safety and hope to see her often this fall!

Jenna*: I got to rejoice with Jenna after successfully hiking Mt. Chrysilis on Thursday. This hike is hard!! 14,000 foot elevation and a solid challenge even for those in excellent shape! Jenna has battled her weight all of her life and has years of “I can’t” instilled in her mind. This line of thinking has led her to incredibly low confidence, and, subsequently, to partying and drugs to make her feel normal and accepted. Half way up the mountain, she was begging me to let her stop the climb. But that’s not how this hike works. We all make it to the top. Her friends and I helped her step by step, and she dug deep to successfully make it to the top. That night, muscles aching from a days hard work, Jenna and I talked. I saw her smiling and looking at a rock she had picked up at the top of the mountain to keep as a memory. She told me she’d never finished something when she thought she couldn’t do it. She was used to giving up, and this was the proudest she’s ever felt of herself. I was proud of her too! We talked about how, even spiritually, maybe God has more in store for her than she has begun to imagine, and she revealed that she has never really believed that could be possible. Her joy and increased confidence was worth every step up that mountain, and I am eager to see how God uses this experience to shape her view of His plans for her life.

Mallory: On a personal level, I was surprised by the vivid reminder of God’s faithfulness as I returned to the place where I spent 5 weeks last summer on crutches with a broken ankle. Last summer, God patiently taught me to rely on him, not my own ability or strengths. It was hard, so hard, very humbling, and unbelievably growing for me. Returning a year later, leg fully healed and heart stronger through it all, made me want to fall down and worship this friend, Jesus, who has been near through it all! Because, you see, he knew what he was doing all along. And somehow, he knew I needed a hot pink cast and crutches to remind me how desperately I need him and prepare me for every step of this ministry.

The Lord is so good. So unbelievably creative. So capable in ways I can only begin to fathom. You are a huge part of his work this last week! Thank you for your prayers, support and encouragement. Know that you are remembered often, and always with a smile and a prayer of gratitude!

Please continue to pray for his work through North Dallas Young Life as we begin the new school year. May the Lord’s name be lifted high in the least likely of places!

All my love,

Mallory

The Power of the Tongue.

I did it again. Absolutely soaked it up there for a while. If I said I didn’t enjoy it, I’d be lying. No, I definitely enjoyed it! But I had to know, obviously. I needed every one of those completely insignificant details about someone else’s opinion of another friends screw-ups. I’d be completely out of the loop if I didn’t hear them. Right?

It’s amazing how easy it is to bond over gossip. I definitely felt closer to my friend in the moment because she shared without filter all of her thoughts. Unfiltered is way more fun. 

The problem is, I came home and rushed to finish up the Bible study workbook I’ve been going through (and loving!!) this summer. The day’s reminder: the power of the tongue. “Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers, this should not be.”James 3:10 

Instantly I felt that dreaded conviction. I mean, who really likes to be convicted (AKA – know they’ve screwed up and realize they should change. Dang it.)? I found myself thinking, “It’s fine. She was just telling me her opinion and that’s what friends do! And I was just keeping her informed…” You know, all those hundreds of ways we try to rationalize something that’s flat out sin, fun sin, but nevertheless sin. 

“God desires truth within our inmost parts (Ps. 51:6). I have come to the conclusion that we will never have it accidentally. A truth-filled heart is so unnatural that we must pursue it to have it.” ~Beth Moore, Believing God Week 6. 

That means, I’ll have to choose it. To spend time intentionally fighting the urge to use my words for subtle (or sometimes not-so-subtle) destruction. Growing up, my dad used to drive me crazy when we’d have a conversation similar to this:

Dad – Why’d you do that?

Me – I didn’t mean to!!

Dad – Well, mean not to!

Oh dad sayings. Parents, how do you do it? But 10 years later, it’s still right fresh in my mind. Mean not to. Be intentional in the fight against my wrongful inclinations. Fight for the better. 

God equips me to walk in His ways. He doesn’t make me go at this alone. He reminds me in total love that His ways are, without question, better! They lead to richer life and a heart that is full. Better. They bring me to friendships more meaningful and packed with joy and depth. Better. They encourage, uplift, change cultures, and more. Better. I admit, this is worth it. That’s what I want, truly.

So, today I’ll fight for the better. With my words. Because at the core of my heart, I trust God when He tells me it is in fact better.

Returning.

With a record of 5 views this month (2 of which were me about an hour ago), I thought it might possibly be time to blog again. It’s been a little while, friends. Indeed. Nearly 9 months. It’s true. Thank you to the anonymous 3 viewers holding out hope for a moment just like this. A moment where my stubborn avoidance of this blog snaps. A moment where the AC man is here, meaning I can’t leave the house, and I have zero desire to any legitimate work. A moment when I’m remembering how much I really do love to blog, regardless of how vulnerable it makes me. A moment that leads me to this very post you are reading.

Is it time yet for an update?

No.

Really, we’d be here all day if I went that route, and I’d likely lose my faithful 3 followers who have continued to view this blog despite my silence. No, no. I’ll opt instead for a teaser and a promise to try to post at least once a week for the next few weeks. Try. 

Here’s what I will say for now: God has been true to form the last 9 months. Faithful. Gracious. Personal. Beyond my expectations. He has provided in ways I didn’t know were possible. He’s carried me like a Father carries his infant, helpless daughter when I’ve needed it most. And it seems the longer I know him, the more beautiful he becomes.

In defense of 4+ hours.

((Now before I paint myself in a light that sounds remotely noble, please remember that I was forced to choose this route because I forgot to re-register this year, which is actually entirely irresponsible.))

4+ hours. $44+. I don’t regret any of it. 

3:30 I left the office & headed to Waco. Why? To vote. Yes, people tried to tell me it was ok if I didn’t cast my vote this year. Their logic: Romney was basically a done deal to win Texas, anyway; thus, my vote was not critical to the election results. True. I let that settle. I even tried to convince myself it was ok if I didn’t vote this year. I was just in Waco last weekend for Homecoming. My sister would be at home for the evening & I wouldn’t even get to see her. I would literally drive-up, vote, grab some coffee, and drive home. I’d spend $40 in gas, $4 at Common Grounds, 4+ hours of my time, and, technically speaking, I was only one in 13,065,425 registered voters here in Texas. Truly, the outcome of the presidential race was not contingent on me.

4:25 Nevertheless, by 4:25 I was standing in line at the Greater Zion Missionary Baptist Church on South 18th Street. I am so glad I made this decision.

Let me paint the scene: I stood in a relatively small line in a rural church, much different than the hustle & bustle of the Dallas world in which I’m immersed. The room was small and there were about 40 faded 5X7 pictures hanging crookedly all around the walls highlighting men and women of the church whom I could only assume had passed away or were current members. There was no way to tell.

There were 4 electronic booths, and from the line, I could tell for whom each person was voting if I tried.

I was greeted by a man in overalls with a white mustache. He had apparently been volunteering all day long. He mentioned calling the McLennan County head voting regulations many times throughout the day and laughing because of how busy they always were. I found this particularly ironic as I read the sign that said “No cell phone use within 100 feet of polls.” Oops.

I only waited in line for about 20 minutes. This is what that line consisted of:

• A man & woman. Hispanic. Mid 30’s. Asked to verify residency for the woman because she had recently moved to his home. It was her first election in which to vote.
• A young man. Born in 1990 (I’m feeling old.). African American. Hair in dreads. Sagging pants. Confusion because he was at the wrong precinct voting because he had registered through his barber shop. He took this news incredibly graciously and left to drive to the other side of town to vote. I liked him.
• Me. Mid-20’s. White. Drove in from Dallas for the sole purpose of voting, looking very much like a Baylor girl (this was confirmed when the man who told me unprompted that it’s been fun seeing all of “you Baylor folks” today.) I guess my denim dress, cardigan & boots gave me away.
• A man in a greasy, navy jumpsuit. African American. Stepped out of line to talk on the phone in the hallway. I heard what he said because he was very loud. “Yes ma’am, I took my lunch break so I could come down to vote. Don’t worry. I’ll be right back. I’m not gone for good. I just really wanted to vote so I clocked out.” (I loved hearing this.)
• A Baylor girl. Young. White. I’m guessing freshman. First time voter. Wearing cute little Nike’s and a trendy t-shirt.
• A Baylor athlete. Tall. Very tall. African American. Sporting his Baylor gear.
• An older man in overalls. Presumably some type of farmer. White. Smiling.
• A boyfriend (frat boy – white, Sperry’s, Baylor Kappa Sig shirt) & girlfriend (White. Polka dot dress, red lipstick, cute. Holding that boys’ hand.)

I voted. They voted. We all voted.

Then, I got a sticker that told the world “I Voted.”

They all got stickers too.

We all told the world that we voted.

5:05 By 5:05, I was happily sporting my “I Voted” sticker, holding my head high and ordering my Milky Way for the trek home (think $4, 400+ calorie dessert frozen coffee greatness, that I occasionally depended on throughout college for my midnight caffeine/sugar study break).

7:45  By 7:45, I returned back to Dallas, having listened almost the entire drive to news radio report changes in the election results. To top it off, I drove straight to my first ever “Election Day” Party where about 20 friends gathered to catch up, watch the results and eat good food!

4+ hours. $44+. And I still don’t regret any of it. 

Why?

It is a sign of respect. To founders of our nation, who risked their lives to establish this right. To the soldiers, who have fought so hard to protect this right. To the politicians (even those I’m not crazy about) who devote years of their life and endure constant critique from the public. Whether we see eye to eye or not, I respect the efforts of those who have come before me and given tirelessly on my behalf and hope to show them this respect while I have the chance by my simple vote.

It is a way to show government that people do care to be heard. Of the 60 million Americans who claim to be committed Christians, only 30 million registered to vote. Through their inaction, it is logical to assume 30 million+ people would be fine if we lost the option to vote in this nation. While that may not be (is probably not) the case, what evidence do I have to conclude differently? My vote, though statistically speaking made no difference in the outcome of the election, communicated that I do, in fact, value the right to be heard and hope to continue this right in the future.

I have an opinion. A friend of mine annoyed me last week by saying “I can’t stand either candidate, so I’m just not going to vote, but if one of them has to win I hope it’s Romney.” From that point forward, I cared very little about her political thoughts. Her opinion meant almost nothing to me on the topic. “But if one of the has to win I hope it’s Romney.” ?!! I know she has an opinion, even if it is only slightly favoring one opponent over the other. I learned long ago that unless I own it, I probably shouldn’t say it. To me, voting is owning it. It shows me the degree to which someone believes what they are saying…and, though there are extenuating circumstances, if someone doesn’t value their opinion enough to own it, I don’t really care to hear it.

Voting itself is refreshingly humbling. Take the line of people I stood with to vote, for example. Our votes ALL counted. Equally. With the same weight of influence. Regardless of background. Regardless of race. Regardless of age. Regardless of income. Regardless if stereotypes. No one was better than the other. We were all in this together, doing our part to influence this nation. That sentiment alone makes me smile, even though I am quite confident that people in my line voted with great conviction for opposite candidates. However, everyone was kind, courteous, and there for a respectable reason. They each took time from their day, time off of work, time to drive to Waco, time to regroup and drive to the correct precinct, time away from friends on campus, etc.

It’s really not that hard. At the end of the day, I almost didn’t vote because I wanted to be lazy. That’s probably the case for most non-voters. Sure, blame it on work or busyness, blame it on the fact you don’t love either candidate, blame it on the reality that your vote wouldn’t carry much weight anyway. I’d venture to say, though, it typically boils down to laziness that talked you out of voting. Or, as in the case of my little sister who drove from Waco to Colleyville for the sole purpose of voting at home only to discover she was actually already registered in Waco with no time to return to vote before polls closed, it sometimes boils down to “extenuating circumstances.” No judgment cast, Sarah!

Like it or not, there is a president. His name is Obama. He desperately needs our prayers. May he come to know Jesus and seek Him for the direction of this nation, a task I have no desire, ever, to possess.

Set that place on fire.

It’s a Forge thing, definitely. Congrats Stephen and Lauren! I got to see some incredible friends, some of whom have been gone for years overseas or to other states. Makes it even sweeter to be in their presence!

Friends getting married.

Sweet tears of the day: watching the video slideshow and toasts at Lauryn and Taylor’s rehearsal dinner. It’s unbelievably touching to watch the story of Lauryn’s life unfold and realize I’ve been watching the extended version for the last 18 years. As the pictures flashed on the screen, I remembered that little girl because she was my friend.

Only this time, watching her up on the screen, she seemed like a little girl, not the girl in my class that was always an inch taller than me with the longest pony tail and a fluffy bow! Lauryn was my competitor. Neither of us were scared to play at recess with the boys. Lauryn was the first and only girl I’ve gotten into a fight with, and yes we did actually slap each other. I knew her whole family and loved them. How many soccer games? How many study sessions? How many times did we laugh at our crazy sisters? How many times did we eat popcorn and watch Father of the Bride?

Life happened. We grew up. Watching Lauryn up front, sitting sandwiched between her dad (who is the epitome of George Banks) and her new love, I was touched by the journey that has brought her to now. I am thrilled for her next step and Taylor seems the perfect fit to be by her side.

Pine Cove flashbacks.

((Summer 2007))

We’ve been on a second retreat to Pine Cove, this time with regional staff of DFW. It’s always inspiring to me to be back at a place that is my home away from home.

I love being able to walk throughout camp and see flashbacks of God’s faithfulness. I remember sitting in that swing with Elizabeth and our camper Lera. I remember talking with her til late hours of the night as she asked questions about whether or not God could possibly be real and praying with her as she said she believed.

I noticed the drain in the bathroom drains and remember scrubbing for long periods of time, feeling so at peace with the Lord.

I remember cabin cheers as we waited for the doors to open and the pure joy that accompanied that moment.

I won’t forget early morning cabin calls watching kids while parents rode horses or jet skis and feeling such a satisfied exhaustion.

I could virtually see the Youngs out on their porch in Bardabunga inviting us to come drink a coke and sit down and talk.

The Cove Kids building screams Arpeggio and Sugar N Spice and Demo and Dinglehopper. I can hear us singing as we painted the tree in the corner and laughing as we snuck away for one-on-ones.

I noticed cobwebs all along the windows of the summit and will never forget the man who stood up at the end of the week to share that when he saw a staffer power washing those windows for hours he knew he wanted to follow her Jesus. We never even talked to each other, but I had been the one assigned to spray wash all of the windows…a job I was less than thrilled about because I was eager to be with people. God had much bigger plans.

My heart flash backed through Forge memories, through laughter and tears, through relationships past, through hopes for the future, through awkward conversations, through images of adorable children, etc.

I would go back and do it all over again in an instant.

Future.

Can I be transparent here? Someday I want kids, lots of little kids. I don’t want them all from America, either. I don’t have to birth them all. I would happily adopt a few. I actually hope for that.

When I was a teenager, I used to search the internet for hours reading story after story, late into the night, about families that fostered and adopted. I cried many tears for kids I have never met, and I have dreamed many dreams of the kids that will someday be my own.

When I was 13, my family pursued an adoption of a little Russian toddler named Anna. Ultimately, we didn’t adopt Anna, but instead we began fostering local kids ages 0-5. This impacted me in huge ways! I can’t explain it. How could a parent not do everything in their power to keep them safe and secure? I could not wrap my heart or mind around that.

I remember one baby girl, I’ll call her Katy, who was 6 weeks old when my mom picked her up from the hospital. Bruised eye, broken bones and a crooked neck, she came home to us extremely fragile. She was sweet as could be but badly broken. How could anyone hurt that baby?

Katy didn’t stay long with us. She went to live with another relative, and we have not heard about her since then. In her 2 months with us, though, God used Katy to grab hold of me. I woke up many times to walk down the hall, peak in on her, and make sure she was ok. I’d pray for her, “Lord, guard her life and rescue her. Please, God! Please, be near to her! Please use her life for your purpose and keep her safe and loved from here on out!!” I remember holding her and thinking, “Lord, you are GOOD. I know you can redeem her life from the pit.”

I believe this is true. I believe God is fully able to redeem from the pit, and He graciously allows us to play a part in that.

My life right now is frustratingly unpredictable, but I want to be part of this! I have no clue who I will marry, when I will get married, if we will have any money for things like adoption, etc. The story I had written for myself looked a lot different than the one the Lord has written for me. Don’t worry, His story for me is still good! I’m not sure how the real story ends yet.

However, in full hope and preparation for these deep-seeded dreams to someday become a reality, I’ve decided to save a little bit for them. My guess is that they’ll be extremely expensive valuable, and it might be wise to have a little set aside in faith that I will someday have the opportunity to fight for them and bring them home to hold them tight, tuck them in bed, and praise God for the ways He will rescue them.

Young Life team.

Take a look at this crew! Our North Dallas Young Life volunteer team. I am impressed by each of them and their obvious heart for the Lord and for people. The weekend at Pine Cove Camps included worship, focus, relaxation, Farkle, lots of sand volleyball, prayer, laughter, Pick N Pack, Manny May Man, etc.

God must enjoy putting sweet friends in our lives!

Whatever you wear…

Wear it well. 

I have a great taste in my mouth whenever I think of Abilene Christian University. Have I ever been there? No. Did I ever consider going there for college? Not once. Did I tend to think it was a wanna-be Baylor that didn’t quite succeed? Yep, truthfully.

Something changed though. Over the last few years, I have liked everyone I’ve met from ACU. Not just liked them, but been very impressed by them. I’m sure not everyone at ACU falls into that category, but the handful of people that I know from ACU have worn the name of ACU extremely well. They are funny and fun-loving. They are grounded and engaging. They aren’t cookie-cutter in their personality, but each of them have done something that has inspired me. I want to follow them. I want to be part of whatever ministry they are devoting themselves to. I want to be their friend and hang out with them. If I were back in high school trying to decide which college I would attend and knew them, I would seriously consider ACU.

It got me thinking. Am I wearing Christ well? Do people around me become more curious and desirous of Christ because they know me? Do they know that I even wear that name of Christ?

My hope is that even if people have no interest in wearing Christ for themselves, they would at least have a good taste in their mouth of who he is because of how Christians have worn his name…because how I have worn His Name.

^{Matthew 5:14} “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. ¹⁵ Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. ¹⁶ In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.