Immersion Support Letter

Go.

It's a small but powerful word. It almost always implies change or motion; it isn't satisfied with the status quo. It moves us from standing to sprinting, from peering over the edge to jumping in. It commands us to do something meaningful, to abandon our fears and sometimes even ourselves for the sake of others. It takes us to places we never imagined we would see, where we are confronted with the reality of brokenness and inspired by stories of hope. This movement, this single step toward action, teaches us something about God, humanity and who we were created to be. It never leaves us the same.

I am at an exciting time in my life where the Lord is calling me to GO—to trust him fully on an incredible ten-month adventure. I will be leaving everything behind to head to Southern Africa and then the Caribbean to lead long-term mission trips for young adults through the organization Experience Mission. I will have the opportunity to participate in the joys of daily life, while taking part in relieving the practical needs of those around me. I will be doing life with the local people while tackling issues such as water sanitation, education, sustainable farming, and community outreach.

Your support is vital to my success. There are two ways you can support me along this journey. The first is pray. I know this time will be incredibly stretching, and will grow me in ways I never thought possible. I`m asking that you commit to pray for me, and for all the people in the communities I will be in contact with over the next ten months. Here are some things to pray for:

1.     The Lord’s continued provision and favor

2.     The people of South Africa, Lesotho, Namibia, Costa Rica, and Jamaica.

3.     My spiritual/emotional/physical health

4.     That I come into a deeper relationship with Christ, and make Christ known.

The second way you can support me during this time is through giving. I have been incredibly humbled seeing ways that the Lord is already providing for my needs in tangible ways. However, I still need a lot of financial support to make this calling possible. Please consider giving what the Lord lays on your heart. There are two ways to give:

1.     Send cash or check made out to Teresa McElyea at

3932 W Beechwood St. Springfield, MO 65807. (My wonderful mother will be playing secretary for me, and ensure the funds get to the correct destination!)    

2.     The second way to give is online. Go to www.experiencemission.org/staffsupport. From this page click “Support a full-time staff member.” You will be prompted to sign in or create an account. Once you have gone through those steps, my name will be on a drop down list of staff names. You may choose to give a one-time gift, or a monthly option.

Please let me know if you have any questions. You will also be able to follow my journey on my blog at: http://lindseymcelyea.blogspot.com. Thank you in advance for your prayers and support! Your friendship and partnership is invaluable to me!

Love, and grace!

Lindsey McElyea 

He is strong and he is good!

As this summer comes to an end and I transition back into my “normal life”, people want to hear about my Summer. I am frequently asked questions along the lines of “What was the biggest impact on you from this Summer?” or “What have you learned about yourself after this Summer?”

And those are lofty questions that I feel I should have lofty answers to.

So I begin to think about my Summer and the people I encountered, and the hands I held, and the hugs I received. I think about the faces that are burned in my heart because I was simply able to hand them a piece of bread and some milk. I think about the different people I prayed for and their stories they so graciously shared with me. I think about the kids I sang with and played with and learned alongside.

I close my eyes and breath in deep and can smell the body odor and the dirt of my homeless neighbors that became my friends. My mind is flooded with pictures of their smiles, and the dirt under their fingernails, and the holes in their clothes.  I can hear their voices of gratitude, and their grunts of despair. I think about them fondly, and wish they knew the impact they made in my heart and in my life.

But yet with all these precious memories, I struggle to say how I was impacted the most. I could give you some Christianese answer about the gospel being spread, and being impacted by experiencing domestic poverty. And while those things happened and are true, they seem so…empty. I can’t sum up my encounters with these precious people with a sweeping generalizing statement about being impacted by poverty and homelessness in America, because the people that I encountered aren’t defined to me by their circumstance.

So here I find my heart beating harder and faster on this plane ride home thinking about how to answer those questions. And all that comes to mind is this:

God is strong, and he is good.

And I’ve decided, that’s enough.

If all I can put into words about this Summer is the fact that God is strong and he is good, it’s enough for me. And it will always be enough for me.

So when you ask me about my Summer, and I stumble around and tell you “It was good” and that’s all I can manage…it’s because from the depths of my soul I am crying out “God is strong and he is good!” and i`m afraid that’s not what you want to hear.

I can’t tell you how many people were “saved” because of our presence this Summer. I can’t even tell you how many people we helped feed through the Salvation Army soup kitchen. But I do know one heart for sure was impacted this Summer. I know because that heart is beating a little stronger inside of me now. It’s stronger remembering that the same God who led me to New York, is the same God who is watching over my dear friends I had to leave behind. And when I know that my God is strong, and he is good—I know there is hope for the community of Harlem.

And that’s enough for me, and I don't think there is a better takeaway.

God is strong and he is good. 

A sliver of sidewalk to call home

I`m getting straight to the point today: I have the utmost respect for the homeless people I have met in Harlem. You want to know why?

            Raw vulnerability.

They have nothing to hide behind. They don’t have fancy cars, and flat screen TV’s. They don’t have big houses, with freshly manicured lawns. There is no picture of their seemingly perfect families dressed in their Sunday best. They don’t have overworked and underpaid jobs.

All they have is a cart full of plastic bottles to recycle for 5 cents. All they have is the street, and a sliver of sidewalk to call home. All they have are scars, and stories of where they have come from and are waiting to share their wisdom. And that my friends, is what I love. THAT is what the church is missing.

There are people filling the pews in church beside you every Sunday, that are crushed, bleeding and broken, and too afraid to do anything about it. I`m sick of Christians pretending that everything is great in their lives; like being a Jesus follower comes in a neatly wrapped package with a bow on top. I`m sick of well-intentioned people talking about crazy homeless Joe as if HE is the only one with a problem. Want to know the real problem? It’s you. It’s you. It’s the Sunday school teacher who is addicted to pain killers, and the church elder who is abusive to his family. It’s the greeter who greets cheerfully every Sunday, while wishing that someone would notice how desperate and alone they are inside. It’s the picture perfect soccer mom with three kids, and a well-to do husband that has been having an affair for years in order to feel wanted and cherished. It’s the members of the body of Christ, who hide behind their “stuff” to fool everyone else into thinking they have it all together.

But when you don’t have “stuff” to hide behind, all you have left is…you. All you have is raw, deep, vulnerability. And when an empty recyclable 5-cent can, and your story are all that you have to your name—you cling to it; you OWN that story!

As I have met people in the soup kitchens, and on the streets, I have had many opportunities to pray with people. As I grab their calloused hand and look them in the eye, they tell me from the depths of their soul what they need. It’s not a job, or financial security. They don’t ask prayers for “stuff” or material gain. They ask prayers for things that only God can give. I pray for crack addicts to be set free, and for prostitutes to know they are worthy of much more. I’ve prayed with moms of young boys who are being initiated into gangs, and with young boys who are tormented by watching the death of a friend. I’ve prayed with alcoholics, though still drunk at the time, are able to tell me they know their life would be better if they could ditch the alcohol. And I pray every night that all the people I encounter, know that they can’t clean themselves up—but that they encounter a God that can.

Margaret Atwood has a poem titled “Spelling” which she writes a line, which has stuck with me for years.

            “A word, after a word, after a word is power.”

And it’s true. Speaking that which we are too ashamed to speak is a powerful thing. It’s not easy. In fact, it’s dreadfully hard. But when there is nothing else to hide behind, and all you have is that which you are—you own it, and you realize that the world craves that authenticity and vulnerability.

The homeless people I have encountered here have one thing going for them—they are standing bare, and unhidden in the glory of Jesus. God doesn’t have to strip them down and weed back the “stuff” to get to their true hearts; because there they stand, on the sliver of sidewalk they call home, with their true hearts ready to be rescued by a real, and vulnerable Jesus. 

Fall.In.Love.With.Jesus.

I have this sign in my bathroom. Its one of the first things I see every morning. It simply says:

 “Fall in love with Jesus.”

That’s all.

I’m not going to sit here and tell you that I begin every morning in deep spiritual prayer, or by cracking my Bible open and reading 5 chapters. I don’t start my day by memorizing an assigned verse or listening to church hymns. To be honest, some mornings I’m lucky if I manage to remember to brush my teeth before walking out the door. Gross.

Over the past year I have been astonished to see many around me, though well intentioned, replace a relationship with God with religious activity concerning God. Our religious activity is no indication as to whether we actually know God or not. In fact, in some cases, the zealousness and quantity of one’s religious activity may be a pretty good indication that he does not know God at all, but wants the rest of us, and probably God as well, to think he does. The pews of churches are filled every Sunday with people worshipping a God they don’t even know.

The body of Christ is filled with people who are pros at looking good. I know, because I used to be there. I could say the right little thing at the right little time. I went to church. I read my Bible. I even prayed for people. But something drastic was missing…I didn’t KNOW the God I was claiming to worship. I made little commitment to understanding my faith. I was engaged in religious activity instead of knowing and understanding the heart of Jesus. Ultimately, it left me tired, ran down and empty. My relationship with Christ was like eating a raisin cookie, when I was craving chocolate chip. I was left unsatisfied.

I know I am not the only person who has ever felt this way. In fact, Paul warns the Pharisees against this same thing all throughout the New Testament. The Pharisees thought they could work hard enough to impress God enough to persuade him to grant them grace and favor. The more they worked publicly, the emptier they became internally. Instead of being filled on the inside, they only cared about looking good on the outside. The Pharisees, who memorized books of the Bible and should have been the first people to recognize the Messiah, became some of the first to condemn him. Their works had left them deeply unsatisfied.

Just like the Pharisees, it’s easy to measure proximity to God, by the sum of spiritual activity. The more we do, the easier it becomes to turn into our own little mini-god. We can become far more impressed with ourselves, than with the one who created us. Arrogance and self-deception then blind us to our need for God. I see so many people believing that just acting like it, is almost as good as being it. It has become far more important to look like you should than it is to be who you should be. But the longer we substitute spiritual activity for spiritual depth, the more we become merely a shell of who we might have been.

So dear Christian, stop the masquerade. It’s uncalled for. Be honest with yourself about your own relationship with God and be totally liberated KNOWING that God’s grace means you don’t have to try so hard.

Live each day to simply “Fall in love with Jesus” and stop working so hard. Throw that raisin cookie away and take part in the sweetest, most fulfilling relationship you will ever taste.

“Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.” 

Psalm 34:8

Jesus Always Comes

Originally written on 2/07/2012. I am glad it rings as true today, as it did a year ago. 

I have always been familiar with the story where Jesus feeds the 5,000 (Mat. 14:13-33). What a sweet experience for the disciples to be a part of. However, just as the disciples are standing around, rubbing their stuffed bellies and slappin’ skins talking about how Jesus is the man, Jesus tells them to go away. He tells them to  “go to the other side of the lake" while he takes time to pray..(yes, rest assured…even Jesus needed a break every now and then…J) While the disciples are at sea, upset because they didn't get to stay for the after party, the winds pick up.

The winds pick up, the rain starts to pour, and the waves start climbing. This is no Missouri weather where it’s just a 20-minute squall that disappears as quickly as it appeared. No, this continues for hours. From what I gather it starts sometime in the evening and persists until “the fourth watch of the night” (Matt. 14.25) which is anywhere between three and six in the morning. So for almost the entire night, these poor disciples are tossed around violently. I can only imagine, perhaps with much accuracy, what the disciples were thinking.

“I can’t believe this!” “How could Jesus have left us?” “Why is he making us ride in a storm?” “Where is he when we need him?” “Is he going to save us?” I’d venture to guess even a few “bleepity-bleeps” slipped out, but maybe I’m saying that to make  myself feel better. Either way, one question lingered over their heads, “Is God going to take care of me?”

So many Christians experience the depth of their spirituality in terms of mountaintop experiences, miracles, or smooth sailing times. They become almost intoxicated with having everything work out in all ways at all times. Maybe they are smart enough or rich enough or pretty enough to satisfy their own needs without the presence of a savior. Maybe they are spiritual enough to procure answers to every prayer. Maybe they are wise enough to not get bogged down by temporal circumstances and to maintain emotional and mental stability all the time. But let’s face it…most of us aren’t.

Here we have the disciples, who were on a mountaintop experience just hours earlier, now being thrashed around by a storm. Now they are questioning, “Is he really going to take care of us?” They clearly knew he had the capacity to do so. Did Jesus care about them that much when he basically bulldozed them out of the festivities only for them to get pummeled by a storm? Did he really care about them that he waited until the fourth watch, nearly the last possible second to show up?

The story ends with Jesus coming to them walking on the water. They of course freak out. Seriously, who does that? Jesus comes, but in their estimation, he was late. They weren’t sure why he had sent them away in the first place. It felt dreadful to be battling rains and winds and waves in the absence of his presence. But finally he comes.

“Is God going to take care of me?” is the cry that resonates from the depths of my soul when I find myself in life's senseless storms. It doesn’t mean I am a faithless Christian. It doesn’t mean that I am not smart enough to trust him. It just means that I am asking the question--that I wonder. And that I have no choice but to hold on so I can experience the affirmative answer. I stay in the boat and wait for Jesus to come. Maybe I will end up like Peter walking on the water with him, or maybe like the other disciples, sitting in the boat. Sitting, standing, rowing, walking, wading, whatever it is that I do…I know this: Jesus always comes!