story

Impossible beauty from volcanic ashes

Posted on by Angela Madaha

Beauty from ashes

I have a hard time grasping the reality of the phrase, “He makes beauty from ashes.”

If you’ve been through the fire and all you really do see around you is ashes, then your soul feels burnt and deadened.

Seems to me that seasons of ashes can’t really coexist with beauty.

But then I had a very eye-opening encounter recently. And that happened in a place where there is only beauty, no ashes, surrounding me — Hawaii.

IMG_1763

IMG_1194
IMG_1449

Not to make you jealous or anything, but Hawaii has got to be hands-down the most spectacular, radiant, glorious place on earth. And it’s not just one kind of beauty; it’s a wide diversity of everything from white sandy beaches, to towering waves, to staggering cliffs, to brilliant coral reefs, to jungle forests, to commanding landscapes. And it all takes place in about 80 degrees of weather — all year round.

Now I know you want to go there, I loved my time there, and people all around the world talk about visiting there. This little, tiny speck in the Pacific Ocean has everyone a spectator and counting down the days until a live encounter.

IMG_1338

However, Hawaii wasn’t always paradise. During a short educational film we watched before going to Hanauma Bay to snorkel in the coral reef, I learned how the Hawaiian Islands actually came to be.

Beneath the surface of the islands is what is called a “hot spot.” If you remember anything from 7th grade Earth Science, you’ll recall that the Earth’s outer crust is made up of tectonic plates. Sometimes volcanos will form in the middle of a plate where magna rises until it erupts on the sea floor — this is the hot spot. The Hawaiian Islands were formed by such a hot spot occurring in the middle of the Pacific Plate. While the hot spot is fixed, the plate is moving. So, as the plate moved over the hot spot, one by one the string of islands were formed.

How utterly fascinating.

Volcanos produced islands.

Ashes scripted beauty.

Destruction prophesied redemption.

IMG_1445

I was thinking about this as I was snorkeling in Hanauma Bay. This particular bay was created from a volcanic explosion which created a crater and all the sediment from the destruction settled into the bay which made this perfect environment for a coral reef. And how beautiful the brightly colored coral fish were. And how perfect the sand and hot the sun.

What this nature story is telling is even deeper than first impressions (you know, the seemingly cliché “All things work together for good” stuff).

You see, this beautiful, perfect island was formed after time and time again of volcanic eruption. Again, and again, and again. The magma rising, the sediment building, volcanic bursts, and, after a long time, this paradise place started peeking out into the pacific ocean — much to it’s own surprise, I’m sure.

IMG_1758

But what about us?

Moving away from this paradise, let’s look at our own hell, our own volcanos, our own life explosions. I get it — life isn’t easy, there’s hard times, there will be pain, and somehow we become better people through it.

But what really irks me is the “Really? Again??”

When your own history repeats itself. When you can’t shake the despairs of the past. When you think you’ve healed and then something seemingly minor (or major) triggers something too deep in your mind and emotions, and it’s the same story, like nothing has changed.

The magna rises.

The sediment builds.

When pain comes steamrolling through your door, it’s not just dealing with that pain. It’s having to relive all the other ones that happened previously. People may say, directly or indirectly, “Ok, let’s heal already. It’s time to move on,” because they can only see that isolated experience. When someone has deep wounds and scars, it’s literally harder to move on each time because you have to relive each previous one and they stack up uncaringly. Now it’s not just getting over this pain; it’s getting over 2, or 5, or 10. It keeps building up. Each time it gets harder, and more seemingly impossible. And I think, “I can’t take one more thing, go through this experience one more time.” The future is terrifying, because the choice to live is this risk, and full expectation, that this just may happen again. Some way or another.

The magna rises

The sediment builds.

I think of friends who are going through deep waters, trials that keep repeating so much it hurts my heart. A beautiful couple and good friends of mine who have recurring pregnancy loss and have gone through the loss of 5 babies already. Another friend who lost her mom to cancer as a child, lost her dad to cancer in the past year, and now received the news that her fiancé at age 26 is diagnosed with cancer just 3 months before their wedding. My aunt who lost her dad to a car accident years ago, and then her 3 month old grandson 5 years ago, and how her own 30 year old son several months ago.

It’s not just the one time. It’s the repetition. Over and over and over again.

Once again.

The magna rises.

The sediment builds.

I felt resilient years ago. Obstacles and hurts didn’t have much of a past behind it, so I was able to jump back pretty quickly. But each deep hurt is like losing a limb. Go through it once, and sure, you can keep walking ahead. But 3-4 times? All you can do is lay limb-less on the ground with hardly the will to live again.

And we all have those, “Again, God??” moments. When will I ever learn that living and loving means losing everything? How in the world am I supposed to help other people when I’m incapable of controlling myself when I am at my weakest point? I can’t even think or accomplish things. I can’t even communicate with God. God, I can’t. I can’t. I have nothing to offer. I’m lost.

The magna rises.

The sediment builds.

And then…

What is that, peeking through the surface?

Is that something green, something alive, something …. beautiful?

Can’t be. Because I know that all there was before was destruction and ashes.

But something’s rising, something … new. Totally new. Shockingly new.

What once was a calm sea is now this attention-drawing island. And with such variety. Depth. Creativity.

The magna rose.

The sediment built.

And paradise bloomed.

pic

That corner of the ocean would never be the same again.

And that’s the hard part too. We can’t ever go back. Ever. After all the things that we have gone through, we cannot reach back into the past and regain our innocence, the times of a simpler life, the heart that is unshattered.

You see, God’s not creating the next better version of the Pacific Ocean. He’s actually building a whole new island.

He doesn’t make things better. But he does make things new.

Because that’s what love does.

New things

This ocean would never be the same. It had to accept the change. It lost one thing to gain another. Redemption is actually written into creation.

And what’s incredible about Hawaii? I get to enjoy this because something a long time ago went through fire and destruction. And it turned into something beautiful that continues to give and attract people from all over the world.

Because beautiful things will attract attention. And every beautiful thing has a past that includes a lot of ashes.

I think … I think … I want to be like Hawaii.

And I think …. that has been God’s plan all along. But there comes a time of agreement, of “yes and amen.”

That means, though, I have to embrace the trial and fire and heat and hurt and pain. It’s part of the process, the journey, the sanctification.

When it’s all said and done, when something new is starting to burst out, the point isn’t what I lost. The point is what I gain. By losing what I had, by losing my claims to my life, I gain a new one, a fuller one.

Only Love can come up with a story like that.

Inside the lava-like fire are hurts and pains that we don’t understand or think we really deserved. Yet we recognize it. We receive it. And we proclaim “Amen”. In that seed planted, we in turn receive a harvest of righteousness.

And so our life becomes an island alleluia.

IMG_1346

 

To read more of the stories of my friends I mentioned above who are going through difficult but beautiful stories, read their blogs below:

Lindsay And David Blair – My Journey With Recurring Pregnancy Loss http://lindsayablair.com/2016/02/12/my-journey-with-rpl/

Bobbie and Ray – Neatly Wrapped Packages  https://jeanbobbi.wordpress.com/2016/02/18/neatly-wrapped-packages/ 

Making Judgements About The Moon

Posted on by Angela Madaha

Moon

The bright moon is rising

Captivating only my quick glance

Before I move on

Because I think I understand it,

That just because I see it

Means I “get” it.

But if only I studied– if I distrusted my initial judgment–

If only I dug deeper than my first impression

I would be floored and humbled

By my arrogant assumptions.

To think I know anything about the moon

When I never heard it’s story

When I only read books about it

When I only listened to gossip about it.

It seems that my perception could be vastly different

If I changed my method of judging.

If I stopped and considered the moon’s realities, I would see that

It’s closeness is great only because of it’s sheer mass.

It’s light is not selfish, but simply reflective.

It’s marks are not defects or self-inflicted, but massive craters

That tell of depth and time and beauty and experiences.

I think I can hold it

But I cannot.

I think I can define it

But I cannot.

I’m starting to realize the uncomfortable truth that

The only way to have intimacy of the moon

Is to visit

And listen

And discover

And study

And commit

Over a long period of time.

Only then do I dare tell you

What I think the moon is like.

 

 

Sometimes I think we make experiential assumptions about people around us.

Sometimes I think we make educated guesses about cultural issues.

Sometimes I think we try to figure out someone else’s story through the lens of our own.

Maybe it’s time to meet the person behind the statistic.

Maybe it’s time I need to stop thinking my story is “best of many” and starting thinking it’s “one of many.”

Maybe it’s time I commit to one concern, one group, one person, instead of trying to be an authority on all.

I’m starting to understand that it’s vastly unfair to speak my opinion with authority when I have no intimacy with what I’m trying to speak for or represent.

I also had no idea that this internal confrontation would happen when I sat down to watch the blue moon last week.

You never know what will trigger new questions and realities.

And sometimes they happen only once in a blue moon.

This is my city

Posted on by Angela Madaha

It’s time to share my story.

Or at least how I’ve come to where I’m at now. Of course all stories continue; issues come up when we focus on one particular season or want as the End, as if everything were a means to bring us to that point. This is just a highlight of several significant chapters in my life. A lot of you, my friends, have recently asked questions about the past year of my life and this seemed like the best way to communicate.

I want to be very clear about two facts upfront: God is good. and Faith acts with no circumstantial evidence to back it up.

**

On December 3, 2011 I journaled these thoughts: “Is this how God is saying that I’m here in Greenville for good? God, I struggle with this so much. You have done so much in my heart and life that has given me a passion for the Gosepl where there is no voice or very little. I feel like Greenville is so saturated and stagnant. People know Jesus but they refuse because their stuff and relationships and lives are worth more. We are so plush here. Send me somewhere else.”

I had recently sat through a church service where Tim Keesee had shared exciting stories of travel and Kingdom advancement around the world. I’m not exactly sure why it happened, but I fell apart. I cried all throughout the service, wept during my drive home, pulled myself together while some friends came over, and then wept again once they left. I felt so jaded. Like I was given a taste of something that I couldn’t have as my own. Purpose seemed to have evaded me and my desires went unfulfilled.

I didn’t want to be in Greenville. Of all places I’ve been, Greenville was my last choice. In my life I’ve lived in 7 states, traveled to 3 foreign countries, and have been personally involved in dozens of churches, ministries and cultures. Yet something was still aching, missing. I knew I had to find it or I would die. Moving away seemed the logical answer.

In May 2012 several circumstances climaxed in my life. Quite frankly, life was terrible. I finally said, “Ok God, I’ll move to California if that’s what you want. I can’t just sit here anymore.” Why California? I had visited Menifee, CA in the past and loved the area, the people, and church plant there. I even tried to move there once before. But now seemed like the best time. I had nothing to lose. I didn’t really have possessions, deep relationships, or even purpose. I didn’t even laugh anymore. which was scary. and sad. I couldn’t remember a time in my life where I didn’t incessantly laugh.

This move, however, was very fearful for me because I had no external evidence to support it, but I claimed faith to move on. As soon as I took that first step, crazy stuff started happening. A hospital in the LA area called me about my online resume, and by the end of the first conversation they had set up a time to fly me out for an interview with the Board and CEO for the Director of Marketing position.

*cue freak out moment* I went from nothing to suddently an all-expense paid trip to Southern California during the week of the 4th of July to interview for a dream job! Simply. Unbelievable. I remember driving in my rental through the amazing California scenery, biking around Menifee, and visiting San Diego thinking, “I can’t believe this is happening.”

The job though? I knew the moment the interview was over I wasn’t supposed to accept that job. I loved them, they loved me, but it wasn’t mine to have. I ended up officially turning it down a week later. Yet at the end of my visit I told Tim Lovegrove, the pastor at Grace Bible in Menifee, “I want to be here. I can’t think of a reason why I shouldn’t move. There’s nothing holding me down in Greenville.”

I would literally be starting life over. I made plans to pack my stuff, sell what I could, terminate my leases and contracts, and end my chapter in Greenville. I even had Plan A and Plan B written out, complete with financials. This was real, people.

But oh the fun had just started. August 1, right at the tipping point of change, something relatively insignificant happened, yet it was like God whispered, “Wait.” Hm, ok.

Friday night August 3 I walked into a small theatre building in downtown Greenville for a service with some church I had never heard of before: City Church. 2 friends at outreach had invited me but contra-dancing had conveniently conflicted for several weeks. Needless to say, I showed up that night.

And so did God.

You know how some moments in your life you remember even the smallest details? This was one of those nights. My mind was blown so many times. Something was different. I saw normal, everyday people that really cared about their city. and they weren’t “missionaries.” Like, they intentionally pursued the people and prosperity of the city. It was like the church existed for the city and not the city for the church. This was new to me. I was intrigued.

They had also just started a 21 day fast with other churches in Greenville called The Hinge. They actually believed that real prayer was the hinge to open up a door of kingdom advancement and revival in Greenville. They had been praying for years for the kingdom to come to Greenville as it is in heaven. They believed that you don’t have to go find the kingdom; if you are a child of God, where you go the kingdom goes with you. The power of Jesus really does dwell in your heart and affects you and everyone around you.

Well, this was pretty cool. It was an invitation for me to join. I thought, I may be leaving, but I want to be a part of this, even if just briefly. I want to see the power of this kind of prayer.

So I entered into fasting and prayer unlike any other time in my life. And, well, stuff happened. A lot of crazy stuff. It was like my world stopped and God said, “Watch me.”

3 unpredictable weeks later The Hinge ended with a huge prayer gathering at Falls Park. I got to the park early and sat on a bench reading Romans 8. I was so confused. So much had happened in the past 3 weeks I didn’t know what to think or do. Where was I supposed to be?

As I was thinking, I happened to look past my bench. I saw a piece of trash, a straw specifically.photo (8)

This is my city.

I sat up straight with a jolt. Did I say that? Uh, for real? …God? God, how can this be my city? Like, emphasis on “my.” You see, if I call something mine, I have to take care of it. Because I care. If something is broken, I fix it. If trash is on the ground, I pick it up.

I stared at the straw in disbelief. I knew that he was calling me to Greenville and asking me to pick up the straw and accept ownership. But, but… if this is true, then I would’ve been wrong the entire time! Was I really that blind? Had it really been right in front of me the whole time?

I closed my Bible, got up, picked up the straw, threw it away, and then walked down where everyone was gathering. The first people I saw were friends I had just met the night before at City Church. They asked, “How are you?” And I said in a bit of a haze, “uh, I think God just called me to Greenville.” “Oh that’s awesome!” one friend replied. “Because I just prayed for you this morning.”

And you know what I think is funny? God sent me all the way to California for a wild, expensive dream trip… and then used a piece of trash to call me to my own city. Hilarious! I had to come to the complete end of myself and be completely desperate for him. He asked me to start taking faith steps and then rewarded the obedience by giving me way more than I ever imagined.

From that moment on something changed in Angela’s inside area. Something was set free. I can’t even really explain it, but I guess that’s what love is like. I remember talking with my mom the following week and saying, “Mom, I don’t know what happened. I feel like I’m really light. It’s like I’m myself again. I’m laughing again.” Somehow, because he’s so good, he just took my oppression and chains of heaviness around my heart and broke them. And I didn’t even know the chains were there.

And I have experienced immense amounts of joy since then that I have never tasted before. And it’s tastes reeeeaaaally good.

From that point on God has led and told me that he would be bringing me into many new seasons in my life: work, church, community, marriage, outreach, and relationships. And this is where I’ve learned faith: I believe that they are a reality before they physically show up in my life. Kind of a crazy way to live, but actually in the Kingdom that’s normal.

Starting December 2012, God built the bridges for me to cross into several of these new seasons. My time working directly with the homeless was over and I would be reaching out to women with broken lives, whether they are connected with sex trafficking, strip clubs, or abused lives. This totally overlapped with a new job he sent me. As the trainer and manager of 9Rounds on Wade Hampton, my schedule didn’t allow me to work downtown anymore with the homeless, but he immediately sent me to a new outreach and community to minister in that fit in my schedule. And with this new community and outreach he led me to a new home church, which is City Church at the heart of downtown Greenville. Now my job, outreach, church and home are within a 5 mile radius. He’s really good like that.

And so the story continues. I don’t really know what’s next. Some things have really surprised me in the recent weeks, but honestly I’m done with being surprised to be surprised. That’s just how it is. I can never fully understand the love and joy of Jesus so every new experience of goodness is always a “WHOA! Now that’s a new awesome!”

So, to sum it all up, isn’t he a good story writer? I love a good story. I recently finished Harry Potter and The Half-Blooded Prince and I just had the experience during the story where I literally cried out, “Nooooooooooooo!! Say it ain’t so!” I know there’s one more book and that it’s going to end really well, but I’m kinda disappointed right now… yet captivated. Something good’s coming. Something better.

Every day, each moment of my story, your story, has that constant hope keeping us moving forward and expectant. Something good’s coming. It only gets better. And I’m not being optimistic. I’m being real. Because at some point we need to come to a place where the unseen is more real than the skin on our bones or the air that we breathe.