It was a chilly autumn day in late October; the leaves were still hanging in the trees, their colors more vibrant than ever. Grandma’s apple pie could be smelt baking even from where we were deep in the woods. This is my favorite time of year, everything is cooling down from the long summer. The trees are getting ready for bed, letting all their extra weight fall to the ground in big brown and yellow piles. Every year, Emma and I make the three hour trek up to my Grandma’s house in the UP. And every year we go hunting for the best birch trees for tree-topping. This year we found the perfect one. The bark on this birch was a pearly white, fraying at the loose ends, and it’s trunk was sturdy enough to hold our weight till we reached the top. Emma went first, it took a few tries until she managed to get a good grip on the trunk. When she did, she began to shimmy her way up the tree. The pearly white colored birch slowly began to bend, until it finally set Emma back on the ground. Together we counted down from three and let out a huge high-pitched squeal that pierced even the ears of the red squirrel perched on Grandma’s porch. The second Emma’s hands left the trees’ branches an explosion of crimson red burst into the air; slowly rocking back down to our rosy cheeks and bright smiles.

More explosions of red and yellow could be seen all throughout the woods. I was just about the latch on to another tree before I realized something. I smelt it before I heard it, and judging from the smile and excitement in Emma’s eyes, she smelt it too. The smell of gas in the cool, dead air found out noses before the sound of Grandpa’s four wheeler engine found out ears. The bright red object in the distance made my stomach do summersaults! Emma and I stepped aside as Grandpa pulled up next to us and in no time at all we were both clinging to the cold metal railing where a rusty axe and chainsaw were strapped. Dirty blonde hair flew all around me and the cool autumn wind stung my nose and cheeks. Emma and I buried our faces into Grandpa’s back, hoping to hide from the cold. His red and black flannel must have just come out the wash, because it smelt like Grandma’s laundry detergent mixed with his usual lumberjack smell. We drove along some of Grandpa’s hidden trails as he pointed out trees, naming them and estimating their age. One tree he pointed out was a birch tree about 15 feet tall. It looked old and a little sick. There was no pearly white bark surrounding the trunk and the mustard yellow leaves were a pile of mush on the ground. Grandpa explained to us that this tree had had its toll and was dying. Turning, he went back to the four wheeler. I heard the sound of the bungee straps around the chainsaw come undone and the hum of the metal object as Grandpa jerked on the starter rope. He told us where to stand and we watched as he worked the chainsaw through the tree. After a few minutes, the tree finally gave it’s death call. A few cracks, then a swoosh as the birch split through the air and hit the ground with a thud.

Emma and I let Grandpa finish his work for the day while we raced each other back to the house. By the time we reached the back door we were both out of breath! Grandma offered us some of her apple pie that she made earlier that day; the apples were warm going down my throat and the cinnamon sent my taste buds reeling for more! That night at dinner, Grandma asked us what our favorite part of the day was. Together, we told Grandma about the four wheeler ride with Grandpa, and the tree that had to be cut down, we even told her about the race we had from the woods back to the house, and that Emma lost! Then I told them that our favorite part of the day was finding that perfect birch way out in the woods, climbing to the top until it couldn’t bear out weight, and then letting go to watch the explosion of crimson red burst into the morning sky, and rock back down to our rosy cheeks and bright smiles.

Every human being wants desperately to be wanted. To feel like they belong somewhere or to someone.

Amidst the chaos of the last week, with my dad gone and six extra kids coming through our door, I’ve realized a stillness. We haven’t frantically tried to clean up the piles of toys lying around or the diapers scattered down the stairs and along the hallways; because we are just trying to be still. To love the little ones that come through the door and whisper “I love you” and “you belong” when they feel as if they are forgotten.

I’ve grown up knowing who I belong to. Jesus. Every one of us does. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how wanted and loved we are, especially when we don’t surround ourselves with believers who speak that truth into us. God wants us. He wants you. He’s chosen you to be His. He’s chosen the discarded, forgotten, and dirty. It is no coincidence these kids have walked through our door, to open my eyes to see the importance of belonging, of feeling chosen. “We are a CHOSEN race, a royal priesthood,” God chose Israel to be His people, and through Jesus, he has chosen each one of us to also belong to Him. I sat with Janey and this sweet boy as I watched them play, laugh, and make animal noises. They have been born into completely different circumstances. One will always know where she belongs, while the other, might never feel at home. Earth does not give us assurance. These two will never truly feel a sense of belonging until they choose Jesus. Assurance is found in Jesus’ finished work alone.

I know where I belong. In Jesus’ open arms! Every kid that sat around the dinner table this past week might not know that is where they belong. They might feel out of place and a burden. But they are far from that. Jesus will continue to call out to them, and the way he does that is through his vessels. Believers. I have found my belonging, and I want everyone else to find it in Jesus too.

Isn’t it crazy how forgiving God is?

How can we forgive someone so close to us for doing something so unthinkable? So dirty? So shameful? I find it difficult to forgive people, even those close to me, for sinning. Yet I do the exact same. God sees it all as sin. He forgives us without a second thought. He looks at us and only sees perfect, pure, spotless blood. If our perfect God looks at us in our darkest moments and says “I forgive you” why do we so often look at the people around us and say “I don’t think I could ever forgive you.” Christians REPRESENT who Jesus is. We are called to reflect Him. Judging people’s sins and leaving them in their darkest moments is not what Jesus asks of us. He came to show us how BIG God’s love it. Big enough to send someone he loves in place of billions who chose to disobey Him everyday.

Doesn’t that just make you want to drop to your knees? Doesn’t it confuse you? I cannot begin to understand love like that. Love that looks past all the bad, dirty, and disobedience and sees us as His. He doesn’t hesitate to forgive. He knows our hearts. Something he has also constantly been reminding me of. I so badly want to put on a perfect show. I want people to see me as someone who never has doubts and who never fails. Jesus says, “I know your heart beloved. Stop worrying and stressing about what those around you are thinking. I know you are mine. I can see your submissive heart.”

Jesus is forgiveness. Literally. Old Testament God would not have had it. He couldn’t even be near His people when they sinned. Then Jesus came. And he toke it all away on the cross. We are forever forgiven, loved, and wanted by our Creator. As a believer, I’m choosing to rest in the fact that it is finished. I don’t have to earn my forgiveness, I just have to ask for it.

When I think of owning something, I think of taking pride in it. Protecting it. Supporting it. Loving it. And above all, I think of it defining me.

Jesus wants us to own our faith. Yikes right? That means that as followers of Jesus, we need to take pride in it. Protect it. Support it. And allow it to define us. Not gonna lie, owning my faith is a huge struggle. I feel defined by my faith at school. But not in a good way. People see me as an easy target to tease for “waiting for marriage”, “wearing a purity ring”, “going to church”. On more than one occasion has someone turned to me and asked an insulting question towards Christ. They have made fun of him, treating him like he’s just a story. In situations like that, where I don’t have anyone to help back me up in the grace and love and gift that it LITERALLY right in front of these kids, I sit silently; hurt by their unbelief and the way they treat me. I talk to God in those moments, asking him to give me strength to not make a snarky or rude comment. Sometimes I try to speak love into them, but my heart seems more confident than my mouth.

I look at some believers and see how well they own their faith. I long for that feeling of possessiveness. I don’t have it all right. I’m still working on owning my faith and standing up for it and I’m sure many of you are too. Jesus knows we aren’t going to get it right on multiple occasions. He knows we are going to feel attacked and out numbered. Truth is, sin does out number us, by a long shot. But God holds fast to his promises. He will return and defeat sin. Until then, I’m going to strive to own my faith more confidently. Look for opportunities to share out Jesus’ sacrifice and love boldly. Are people always going to listen? Doubt it. Paul says in 2 Timothy, “keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, and do the work of an evangelist.”

Simple. Don’t back down, don’t give up, and do what Jesus asked.

Extravagance doesn’t get us to Heaven.

For years I told myself that if I wanted to dedicate my whole life to Jesus, I would have to go above and beyond. I would have to go to different countries and tell the needy, sick, abandoned, and poor about Jesus. I would have to do something extravagant. What I didn’t realize is that God uses us in the littlest ways and in the most unthought of places. Right where we are. Paul says to the Church in Corinth, “Each of you should continue to live in whatever situation the Lord has placed you, and remain as you were when God first called you.” (1 Corinthians 7:17) God calls us to be Christians right where we are. Does He open doors? Definitely. But when we feel that doors aren’t being opened, or that we are “stuck”, we must remember who conducts and controls our lives. His purpose and plan is far beyond our understanding. Everyone around me has plans for their future. They talk about their dreams and future career and look at me with anticipation and ask the inevitable, “what’s your plan for next year?” For the longest time that question left me “stuck”. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, and I just wanted God to choose for me. To make it clear to me exactly where he wanted me to be. I didn’t get some writing on the wall like I had hoped. But I did get a hard blow to the chest. God reminded me of who he is. He reminded me that I didn’t need to know His plan for my life, I just needed to be obedient. Trusting that he has a plan and will reveal it to me in HIS timing has been difficult. I find myself trying to take matters into my own hands, brushing off his voice as he whispers “I’ve got this, trust me.” I just needed to realize that he can use me wherever I am and in whatever situation I’m in. Jesus used tax collectors, fisherman, zealots and thieves. He is using each one of us too. We don’t have to be pastors, missionaries, or spiritual leaders to many; we just have to be us, and put to use the strengths we have been given to further His growing Kingdom.

The past few months have been constant prayer, asking God to just show me or tell me in some way what I should do after high school. I want to get it right the first time. I want to be placed where I know he will use me the most. Up until Saturday I didn’t have a clear answer. All I felt was waves of peace and assurance as I dug deeper into His word and spent time in prayer with Him, he never ceased to remind me that he’s got me and I just need to recognize his purpose for each one of us. To love him, love others, and become more like him. All of which we can do right where we are. When I came to that realization, that I didn’t have to do something extravagant to fulfill God’s purpose and will for me, he placed opportunities in my path. We are called to reflect Jesus, to love our enemies and step outside our comfort zones. When the opportunity to serve with an organization that reaches out and invests in the education and well being of girls at risk of trafficking arose, I decided to take the Leap. The likelihood of me getting accepted seemed slim. Bob Goff says that “when God seems silent, it’s only because He knows we’ve got it right and will make the right decision.” He knows I desire Him above all else, and he knows that because of that desire, I will make decisions based on what he wants and desires. I was accepted to serve with Hosea’s Heart this past week, and I am still in awe of how God has prepared me for His plan for my life. No more taking over the wheel. He knows exactly where I will be used and when, it just took faith and trust that His plan is better than mine.

Jesus showed extravagant love. But he didn’t go about it extravagantly. It was simple. He just loved people where they were. Don’t sit around waiting for God’s plan. He’s already given it to you. Go love people; go love the sick, poor, imprisoned, and hungry. Maybe that is right here in Oshkosh, or across the world, but Jesus showed extravagant love in humble ways, he didn’t have to go far to send his message of love and hope; no, a message as hope-filled as His spread like wildfire.

Meet Kyler. This kid became one of my best friends in just a few days, his shy personality and insane jump roping skills drew me to him instantly. I remember the second day I got to hangout with him, he came running up to me and said, “Amelia let’s go to the gym!” WHAT?! This kid remembered my name! The important thing is that I remembered his too. He needed someone to speak life and love into him that week. So often I think that we feel like we have to reach everyone. But sometimes God places one person in our life that he wants us to love and focus on. Kyler was my person that week in Huntington. The last day at the Boys and Girls Club, I wrote Kyler a note and put it in his bag, as I walked towards the door after saying goodbye to so many sweet kids, I noticed Ky sitting in the same corner where he had pretended to be teaching Carissa and I earlier, threatening to give us “homework” if we didn’t pay attention. He was reading my note. I don’t remember what that note said exactly, but I do know that I wrote words of encouragement. I told him who he was. He is God’s, he is valued, and he is loved deeply by Jesus. He matters. I pray that God continues to show pieces of Himself to Ky, because he needs it. Kyler was the one person that whole week that I really connected with. One little kid. But you know what? That’s alright. I tend to go into things hoping that I become friends with everyone. God needed me to realize that I need to live in the moment, each moment with every person I encounter is valuable and I can use each of those moments to glorify and further his kingdom.

After spotting Ky I walked over and squatted down next to him. I looked into his sweet freckled face and saw tears. My whole heart told me he heard Jesus. He heard Jesus in the moments I told him he was crazy talented. He heard Jesus in the moments I told him he was loved. He heard Jesus when I walked through what Jesus’ did on the cross for him. He heard Jesus when I said he was wanted. He heard Jesus. Live in the moments God has placed you in. It might not be what you had in mind, but it has purpose. The purpose for those moments with Ky was to plant a seed. I wish I was there to see God do the rest. I know He is going to work in my little friends’ life, I’m just glad I had a part to play in the future God has in store for him.