Purpose

Dear Human, would you please stop trying to become someone else?

Posted on by Angela Madaha

Humans.

Please tell me.

Why are you trying to become someone else?

to fit the mold. to be accepted. to live the dream.

Are you aware of a blatantly obvious alternative?

Ready for this?

Creativity.

Yeah, betcha didn’t see that one coming.

Now don’t toss this out just yet. Bear with me.

What is this creativity you speak of?

Glad you asked.

To create: to cause to exist, to make something new, to see something come alive, to increase worth, to personalize, to mold, to massage, to change, to evolve from one’s own thoughts or imagination.

So you’re telling me to stop trying to be someone else and to instead pursue this creativity? you lost me.

hang on.

Why choose to pursue creativity

Why, as a human, is this essential?

Why, as a Christian, is this so immensely important?

Who God Is

First, back to the basics. God is the source and very essence of creativity. With a stroke of his finger, weather whirls from clear skies to ominous attack. The mere sound of his voice alters the course of history.

History: a story he breathes. Peoples and nations look back and are amazed to see common threads and order and cause and effect. Trends and movements. Ebbs and flows. This universe runs under his majestic control.

Creation: his art canvas. Yet not art as we think of it. When has man-made art ever been alive and self-sustained? Continual growth, then death, then rebirth? Seasons to complement each other and then spread out across diverse fields of the nations of the world? Think about the body of man- the pinnacle of creation. The very image of God himself.

He is creative. Oh, so creative.

Who I Am

Image-bearer of the Most High. There’s something inherent about me that is a reflection of God himself through which I represent in the world everyday simply because of the nature of being a human. If he’s creative, then I must in turn bear resemblance.

my Creative body. my Creative mind. my Creative soul. Different and unique than any other person that has or will live.

my Creative life. No other person on the earth has had the same life, experiences and knowledge as I do. Even if they were inexplicity similar, I have different eyes, different perspecitves, different lenses.

I am unique. I am creative. I am God’s. That’s just simply the way he works.

with everybody. no exceptions.

What this implies

So this personalized and unique “creativity” is a much bigger responsibility than at first glance. Who I am personally and intrinsically is now my responsibility. under my management, under my stewardship.

This realization thus releases the misconception that only certain people in this world are “creative.” Creativity is much bigger than art, design, and writing. It’s at the core of our very being. It’s what makes each of us a unique, individual story before the world, before society, before God.

Once I begin living my life in fear, driven by the expectation of what is normal and what others expect, my life is now in their control; thus who I am as an individual, my creativity, is boxed and shelved.

It is my responsibility to live my life, not someone else’s. I am never held to an expectation that others have over my life. In each situation, I am to toss out the mold of “what do they want?” and “what do they expect”. Always Spirit-led, always personally unique.

Now

So what?

What am I going to do with this?

Here’s what I think. for what it’s worth.

I must pursue my unique drives and passions through my own creative abilities and insight. Live my life in a way no other person can ever this life again. God has me here to do His work through my life. So I can’t live my life as if it were someone else’s, because….it’s not.

So, what’s your story?

What’s unique and creative about yourself, your story, that you have not yet stepped up and taken responsible for?

This is not a “Help!-the-world-desperately-needs-you” speech. but, the world does need Jesus. And he put you on this earth to be himself to the world; he purposely made you and is making you in a creative way to accomplish his work.

Why else would you be here?

 

A Bitter (refreshing) Taste of Humility

Posted on by Angela Madaha

The Italy saga continued…

I had made it. I was in one piece, I had all my luggage, and I still had (some) money left.

Like the previous weeks of the trip, I entered into this new county, new culture, and new people with no previous experiences or expectations to guide me. Everything was completely fresh and I was pretty naïve. Such a good place to be. It really makes one be a student of every person, experience, and group I saw. I had learned to be nobody of any importance and to enter into conversations and settings with an open mind, placing my perceptions and opinions lower than those I was coming in contact with. Part of that is well attributed to the language barrier. Even if I disagreed, I usually couldn’t express it in an understanding way; I was forced to constantly listen and observe. Being a foreigner gives one a responsibility to be respectful, not a right to lord one’s personal, cultural opinions over the native people. Americans, and specifically American Christians, are so domineering and harsh about our beliefs. I saw it in myself, and I felt it when I returned to the States. It made me cringe and slightly uncomfortable whenever I sensed it, because quite frankly it is normal and expected. By God’s grace may we become humble people, because in such a state as we are we may never be able to effectively spread the Gospel to His kingdom; our insistence to be “right” may very well paralyze any effort to extend the arms of the Body to place the Truth into the hands of the unreached people groups.

Personal practical lessons and applications of humility:

  • Approach each conversation and interaction with the thought: What can I learn from this person? Can I be the one that has the wrong or weak view/understanding?
  • Become a person of unending questions. Asking questions help reveal why that person believes what they believe. Dozens of factors come into play here: background, culture, family, tragedies, experiences, relationships, etc…
  • NEVER assume. Each person, place and experience must be a blank slate. Assuming can ruin things and you can be looking for something to happen while all the while you are missing the new, unique aspects transpiring right now.
  • Be wise. To balance off the previous point, allow a blank slate to be present, but allow it to add on to and complement your previous knowledge and experience. For instance, I had been living with those that had extreme pasts of drugs and violence. When I entered into a more “normal” life in Italy, I actually got to meet others in the church that had been saved from a similar life style. In wisdom, I could speak and listen knowledgably and walk in love towards that person, knowing past temptations may still be strongly present with them. And then I also had a choice: take over the conversation with “I know what your saying and this is everything I have to say about it!…” or I could store up what I was hearing, ask questions, and be blessed to build on to the mountain of amazing stories of real lives radically altered by the grace of God. More often than not we just need to shut up.
  • Shut up. But seriously, shut up. Quit talking about everything you know, that church planting article you read on twitter, recent revelation, what you read in your Bible, saw in your church, all your blessings, all your sins, awesome Piper book, God’s working in your life, blah blah blah. Sometimes we talk so much about what we “know” about God and all our spiritual stuff and insights that we totally miss out on the real soul in front of us that is dying for lack of real ministry of mercy. If only we would listen. and keep listening. and keep listening. Until we reach the core of the Jesus-need that resides in their pain-seared heart. Oh man I need this lesson—so convicting. Because haven’t I myself been that very person?
  • Do not be afraid to fail. While in Spain, I especially had a major back-lash of culture and language immersion in which I skyrocketed initially, and then fell straight rock-bottom. It was a very humiliating experience because it all was a lot more difficult that I expected. Instead of humbling and rising up, I humbled myself and stayed there, too afraid for a time to venture out in the language because I couldn’t effectively communicate; not trying and withdrawing was a whole lot easier than trying and imminent failure. I regretted that, and if I could go back and change anything, I would persevere in communication and language despite set-backs and humiliation. Some things are just more important that my perception before others. This even wore into my time in Italy; I constantly struggled to express myself and felt a huge disconnect of who I was as a person and how I fit in. I struggled to participate and invest myself while feeling like I was failing at it.

I look back and see a life-lesson: go hard after failure, because you just might happen to succeed. Because even succeeding at failure is still success, right?

Real Lives: The Story of Vina

Posted on by Angela Madaha

I feel compelled. I met so many people, real people, this past summer whose stories blew my mind, rock my system of thinking, and gave me new eyes of understanding of broken, outcast people. So much so, that I honestly couldn’t talk about it much in the following weeks. I felt I really couldn’t communicate the amount of impact their stories had in my heart and life, nor could I fully explain what I saw and heard. There is no box I can place them in, and neither shall I try.

But I must tell their stories. I know that I met them on purpose, for a reason beyond my finite understanding. I have decided to change their names since this in published on the web. I didn’t want to because I felt that their name for me was emotionally and intricately tied to who they are and what they represent, but for sensitive reasons and love, I will adapt.

May these Real Lives open your eyes that there are real people around your real life every day. This is not specific to Betel. When Jesus by example served the broken and outcast of this world, He did so knowing that each one of us will have the opportunity to live as He did. If only we were aware. If only we opened our eyes.

*****

Vina was one of the first people I met upon arrival in Spain. Her appearance: eclectic. worn. haggard.  Her body: abused. tattooed. thin. Her clothing style was, shall we say, gypsy-european. Perhaps a bit Bohemian. She often wore gaucho-type pants, printed shirt, sandals, and always with a pair of flashy sunglasses, usually leopard print or glamorous faux-diamond. Vina did not speak English, yet we had a unique connection. From the beginning, my Spanish was a roller coaster experience and I really struggled with communication. Certain people I could understand more than others. Most people could not understand me at all. Yet Vina always understood me and would clarify my broken Spanish to the other women to help them understand. She was smart and quick witted. Always kind and patient.

She loved Jesus—yes, that was obvious. When I watched her worship in church, she was oblivious to everyone else. It was as if she were pleading with God to come down and fill her. Her spirit was always eager to learn, her actions always filled with love and compassion, her mind always yearning for more knowledge.

I remember just 1-2 days after arriving in Madrid we were sitting outside the house in the garden (comparable to a front yard), and Vina just started telling me about how she came to Betel and how Jesus had changed her heart. I didn’t understand everything, yet… I got it. Her expressions, her emotions, her spirit—it rang true in my heart. She said, He is my Savior and I live for Him. She loved talking about her God, about her new life.

Vina was so beautiful to me. Her scars were simply grace-lines forever imprinted on her skin. Yet, she also seemed somewhat sad. Or perhaps, weighted down. Sometimes I would see her sitting by herself in the living room, and there was just a sad presence about her. No, not despair. Just, constant struggle. Like a heavy burden. I wanted to help, yet in many ways, I couldn’t. The effects of her past had taken their toll on her, and physically and emotionally she constantly struggled. I could see it. I would sometimes ask, Como estas, guapa? How are you, beautiful? She would usually reply in a way that let me know that she was struggling, yet some Truth was always present. Something bigger than her pain that gave her the strength and assurance to press on.

Vina is HIV positive. She also has several forms of Hepatitis, along with a long list of other medical issues. Everyday is a trial for her. What thoughts must go through her mind: How much more can I take of this pain? Will I develop AIDS? How can I afford medical treatment? I am really tired right now; maybe I’m contracting a new virus. Do I need to go to the hospital? How long will I live? God did forgive me, didn’t He? I know my past and its rebellion is nailed to the cross… yet I still feel it in my body, and will feel it for the rest of my life. Can not God heal? Why has He not healed me? He’s good…I don’t understand…but I know He’s good.

Always loving, always giving. I felt shallow when I observed her. What a beautiful woman. I love Vina. She has a special place in my heart—I connected with her in a way I didn’t with anyone else in Madrid. I wish I could’ve told her that.

I don’t know when I’ll see her again. I hope she is well, yet I know…

man, I hate sin. So destructive. damaging.

Oh but what an example of the hope of Christ, in the Gospel! A tyrant living in outright rebellion against the Creator, now worshipping Him with the hands once used to destroy her body. This is what made me awe-struck and I know I’ll never be the same. Do you know a Vina in your life? Go find one. It’ll change your life too.

Why was I born in America?

Posted on by Angela Madaha

Why was I born in America?

Of all questions that I anticipated would run through my head during my European travels, this was not one that I expected.

Some background: The biggest obstacle I came across in all the countries I visited and with all the people I met is summed up in two words: cultural communication.

Why.

If communication were really just about words and grammar and sentence structure, then anyone could really live anywhere, given enough time to learn a new language structurally.

But if you have nailed the language (reading, writing, and speaking), you honestly have just skimmed the surface. Put that at about a 4th grader’s level. What about expression, double meaning, sarcasm, humor, idiosyncrancies, body language etc… Understanding a country, a culture, is so much more than language. What about history and how that affects feelings and emotions of people of that nation? What about different sub-cultures within a country (North, South, etc…)? And to top it off, the varying sub-cultures of Christians within all those sub-cultures?

Light bulb moment: Being an American gives me a communicative advantage to other Americans over anyone else in the world. Yes, meeting Spaniards and Britains and Italians and Filipinos have been very exciting, and it’s always an adventure trying to figure out each other’s past and life experiences and connect with each other. Yet if I were to put myself into the middle of their community and live with them, I would literally have to re-learn culture because I’m not in America anymore; I’m in their land so I adapt to them. And the same would happen if they became my neighbor in South Carolina and if they really did intend to be involved in community.

This is where I really struggled. As a foreigner, not only did I have to mirror those around me in order to simply participate, but I had to also search for some avenue to communicate who I was as a person in a way that they would understand.

Problem is, I only know how to do that in American English. Who I am as a person is how I express myself in my language and my culture.

I was faced with many questions at this point. I know that God does and will continue to place and move people around the world for the purpose of the furtherance of His Kingdom. History testifies this mobilization of the saints. I believe in mission and how God is using it, but what about this cultural barrier?

Realization: I have 24 years of American experience. If I travel within any part of the U.S., I would have a pretty developed understanding of the history and type of culture diversity in any given location. I could communicate fluently and could understand that if they said a certain sentence with the right inflection, they may be either content, or bitter. Sarcastically jovial, or demeaningly pessimistic. We all have a varying degree of social awareness (painfully, some less than others), and this is often derived from culture.

Enough of the rambling.

Here’s the point.

Why was I born in this country?

Unfortunately, I think Christians only start taking culture seriously when we strategize about missions in foreign fields. We give all these encouraging strategies about cultural transition and celebrate being able to share Christ while speaking and understanding in the same language—at the same time! And that is exciting, please don’t get me wrong! But why don’t we think this same way about our own country? Missionaries are simply praying about opportunities to meet people and tell them about Jesus, and then actively looking for those opportunities every day. If you’re looking for something extraordinary about the mission field, don’t ask me about it. What I observed on this trip was very ordinary and real. Loving God, loving others. They plant, God gives the increase.

Missionaries have to learn about a country and culture, and it’s exciting to relay to supporters how they were finally able to use that understanding to start a conversation, which led to a new friend, which led to a Bible study in the apartment complex, which led to a family being saved, along with all the relatives.

Why would we expect less in America? Is this only “missions” stuff? Is the Gospel only more effective in godless cultures? Is it not the power of God unto salvation to all who believe?

Maybe it’s because we don’t have the same dependency on God that they do, because cultural transition is really hard work. Without the strength and help of God, it would drive most to despair. (take a moment and thank God for His children living out the Gospel outside their culture. No seriously- right now. Do it.) And since (at first) they only know how to communicate personality in their own cultural language, they are forced to rely on God, and not abilities and personality. How humbling is that?

God didn’t have me to be born in America to waste it. Because of wealth and resources, maybe I could be more effective in Kingdom growth by supporting a national that is already culture savvy. Or maybe His intent is that I go and preach the Gospel where there is not a soul that knows His name. American or foreigner, it doesn’t matter—it’s the drive in the heart to live a life that’s not wasted.

I realize that when I was born in America, that it was part of God’s Kingdom strategy. None of this “I’ll go but I’m willing to stay.” We’re all to “go.” Or perhaps we’ve already “went.” Going does not mean simply moving. It means dwelling somewhere with a purpose of living, sharing, breathing the Gospel. America is not homebase, and neither is any country-of-birth. The only country-of-birth that matters is the country of our 2nd birth, our birth into God’s Eternal Kingdom.

So why was I born in America? Maybe I need to realize that this really isn’t my country; maybe I need to start living like a foreigner. After all, isn’t my passport just… paper? Live in light of the permanent citizenship you truly eternally have.

Video Journal 1 – April 22 “So, why are you going to Europe?”

Posted on by Angela Madaha

Welcome to the first video journal! Hopefully, this is one of many to come. I plan on sending out video journals as often as I can throughout the trip, as well as variety of other information. I’d like you to see first hand what I am doing so that you can have a visual idea of what’s going on, who I meet, what I experience, what I’m learning, etc… Maybe I’m just a visual person, but I really feel that a picture is worth a thousand words. and you really don’t want me writing a thousand words. I struggle with basic vocabulary as it is.

So I’m hoping to keep these short and to the point. This first one summarizes how in the world I got to where I am right now and why I’m doing this– what my purpose is.

Questions? just ask. I probably have just as many!

My Vita. My new life.

Posted on by Angela Madaha

So this website blog is about my life. Well, in reality my new life- my new vita. ‘What?’ you may ask. ‘New life? Does this mean you had, well, an old life?” Yep, I guess you can say so. Read on; allow me to explain.

I never considered myself a rebel. Reared in a religious home, obeyed rules—well, broke a lot, but I always seemed to make up for it later, or at least justify my choices. And I was a good girl—yeah, I was a pretty good person, especially from God’s perspective. I studied God, spent time in his church, even memorized his words! You know, pretty soon I knew enough and was far enough in my “walk” with God that I didn’t really need him anymore. If I was able to “atone” for my own mess-ups, why did I need a God to help me? Sure, I didn’t want to get on his bad side, but I was able to call the shots just as well as he did. Little did I realize, I became my own god—I had just de-godded, God. I was on the throne calling the shots, and God was my label, because life just worked best for me that way. A rebel? No way—the only rebels were those that didn’t see life my way or tried to tell me what to do. And especially those that tried to tell me that I was rebelling against God. Didn’t like those people.

Then I learned some things about the cross. The cross? What does that have to do with anything? Well, if I claim to accept God, then I must understand what he accomplished through the cross. Ok, so the cross is where the Son of God, Jesus, was crucified—he had to die for the sins of the world. So he died for my sins. Yeah I believe that- so I’m saved. End of story.

Take a closer look at the cross, Angela. Why the cross? Why punishment? Well, I know that God is a just, perfect and holy God, but since God is perfectly just, that means that all wrongs must be paid for, there must be a punishment. I know this—I watch CSI and want justice meted out to the wrong doers. A life for a life. Yet what are these wrongs? Lying, cheating, sexual immorality, stealing, idolatry. . . idolatry. What exactly is that, bowing down to a makeshift idol? No, it’s idolatry of the heart. Its when I de-god God. I overthrow his rule, put myself in his place, and actually become my own idol. The highest treason against a King. Really?? So, what’s the penalty for treason? The death penalty? No- no way, I haven’t done really bad things, I just, well, view myself as the ultimate authority in my life. I still do good—is that so wrong? “Treason. Rebel. Idolater.” The accusations are true. Guilty. The Judge looks at me and speaks the sentence- “she must die.” I stand in condemnation under the just wrath of Almighty King and God. Helpless. Hopeless.

“Wait…I will pay”. Who said that? Is that a cross—Jesus?
The Judge answers, “She has committed the highest crime against me and justice must be wrought. She wears the robes of condemnation. And yet . . . there is Way; I sent you to do my will, to show grace and love and mercy. What do you offer?”
Jesus: “My life. I know that I am covered in righteous robes of holiness, righteousness and purity, so I will give them to her and take her robes of condemnation off her. I will wear them, become her sin, take your cup of wrath—all while hanging on the cross of shame.”
Judge: “Yes- I am satisfied with this. My perfect justice demands fulfillment, yet my perfect love offers the cross and forgiveness. Become her sin and I will accept this substitution.”
Jesus: “Yes, please forgive her. With joy I will become the substitute.”

Here is a crossroads for me- do I accept this love, this life spent in my place? I do need salvation from this wrath! Yet if I accept, then Jesus owns my life. That’s what happens when someone saves another’s life. We will have a relationship unlike any other in my life. He would become my treasure, and I would be his. Do I keep my idolatry, or do I accept his love?

I cry out to him, “Jesus I want your robes! I am a rebel, abuser of your goodness and grace. filthy and wretched robes weigh me down. Take them—become my shame so that I can have new life. Undeserved. You now own me, and I love you because of who you are, because of that love.”

Yes, the cross is so much more to me now. It symbolizes new life in Christ, free from guilt, shame, and death. I am loved, I am secure—and because of this, I am a debtor to mercy.

I have new life.