living like lucy pevensie

JMJ

AMDG

So quick life update: I lived in a van for nine months, traveling America with eleven other people, people I call brothers and sisters who started out as strangers but became some of my closest friends. We led retreats for thousands high school and middle school students, drove thousands of miles, and have thousands (only a slight exaggeration) of inside jokes. I learned a lot of things, too. Life skills things, like how to talk to literally anyone. Practical fun things, like how to throw a ball (thanks, brothers). Deep-messy-hard things, like how to love people even when they're fourteen and Do Not Want To Talk to you about anything, but especially Jesus. I learned so many things and there are so many things I’m still learning. 

It was great. It was beautiful. It was so much more than I can really say. I’m doing it again next year. Pray for me!

Anyhow, The Post:

***

When I was around seven years old, I fell in love with Narnia. I wanted to be a Pevensie; I wanted to find a magical world in my closet. My siblings like to remind me of how I exerted my powers as Oldest Child and made them search with me in the closets and cabinets and behind the bookcases, just in case. I never found anything, which is probably because our home is empty of wardrobes.

It’s been awhile since I was seven. I’m nineteen now, and I have no real idea what I’m doing with my life once I stop being a full-time missionary, but still, really, I want to be Lucy Pevensie when I grow up.

I want to find magic in wardrobes and a Lion who isn’t safe, but good. I want to fight for truth and goodness, whether that be in gentle ways or by rushing into battle. I want to be Lucy Pevensie and be a queen and a warrior and sail to the edge of the world and be Valiant.

Here’s a thing about me: I really freaking love life. I have my messy angry EVERYTHING IS AN AWFUL MESS moments. I know this. I’ve lived with myself for nineteen years. But as a whole? I love life like a little kid does. Part of me is still that seven year old girl. I still like dresses with skirts that twirl and I like flowers and climbing trees and eating cookie dough and drawing dragons and medieval weaponry.(yes I had a thing for medieval weapons at seven.) I want to go on adventures and be a heroine and really, I just want to be Lucy Pevensie when I grow up.

despite being nineteen, people mistake me for being twelve.
i think it's partly just my face and also probably because photos 
like this are an accurate depiction of me. photo cred: Jacob

I learned a lot about being childlike this year. I learned that maybe, instead of having an actual job (those are good though), what's most important is being the princess warrior maiden I wanted to be when I was seven.

I learned a lot this year about living like God is real. Not just—this is Jesus and I talk to Him because I am a Good Person, not even this is Jesus and I talk to Him because I love Him, but this is Jesus and no matter how I'm feeling, He loves me and Quite Literally He’s All That’s Getting Me Through The Day. Honestly, the only thing powering me through it some days—a lot of days—most days—was sheer grace.

My brothers and sisters and I saw miracles all year—like young people at the end of a retreat admitting that a retreat was the actual last place they wanted to be that day, but how it had been fun and good and they’d grown closer to their friends and to God. Like how we hit a snowstorm and slid off the road and couldn’t travel anymore that day, but we were amazingly only twenty minutes from a former roommate’s family and they put us up for the night. Like how a boy on retreat fell and cut his hand during a game we were playing, but was healed when my brother prayed over him. Like how we didn’t have the some of the copies we needed to pass out on retreat, but then they showed up in the stack of papers with the others even though no one had given that paper to the woman making copies for us. We made it through rainstorms and snowstorms and a (small) hurricane and sleep deprivation and homesickness and awkward conversations.

God is not an idea. God is not someone who died for us and then left us to figure it out from there. God is real, He is present, and He is at work, and I have seen it.

That’s all well and good when you're a Jesus hobo who lives out of a backpack and a suitcase, when you're traveling the country with your eleven best friends who feel the same as you, when your "job" is literally to talk to people about God--but NET doesn't last forever. Even here and now, as I prepare to head back to NET to serve a second year, the fact remains that for right now, I am back for the summer with all the normality of my hometown, and life is ordinary and calm. Of course, there is summer job-finding and adjusting to normal life and all the ordinary every day struggles—it’s not easy— but it’s a definite change from the wildness of NET life.

Coming off NET can feel a little like coming off a nine month long retreat high. Some days, NET feels like a dream. Some days, I remember road life and it feels like I must have imagined it. Towards the end of the year, one of my brothers exhorted us: This year is real. What God did for us this year is real.

Still, I start to wonder--yes, God is real--but is He real like I thought He was? It starts to feel like yes, that was real, but now it’s time to settle down and be Practical and go back to solving everything by myself.*

* This is how my brain works sometimes—but really, it’s so much more practical to let the God of the Universe Who’s omniscient solve things.

Maybe you’ve felt this too. Maybe for you God is real in church but not where you work, not when you’re hanging out with friends.  Maybe you know God was real when you were on NET, or at that retreat you went on, or in the youth ministry you were part of in highschool, or the church you used to belong to, or in the time right after your conversion, or whatever it may be. And you had those moments, those days, months, years, when you knew God is radically Real.

And now you start to wonder if He is. Or you tuck those memories of moments aside—a sort of that-was-then-but-this-is-now sort of thing, and now you’re going to be grown-up and “practical.” 

Hebrews 13:8, though: Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever. And whatever you learned about Him Then is still true Now. Whatever ways He worked in your life, whatever miracles happened—those aren’t limited to that past time. Something I’m working on, something I’d challenge you, Blog-Reader Friend Person, to grow in, is to stop putting God in boxes. I mean, it’s mathematically quite silly of us. You can’t limit people Who are infinite.

I want to stop putting God in boxes and locking Him up in wardrobes, and start finding Him in the ordinary. I think perhaps NET is my Narnia—and like Lucy to Narnia, I’ll be returning there, but He is here, too.

“It isn't Narnia, you know," sobbed Lucy. "It's you. We shan't meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?"

"But you shall meet me, dear one," said Aslan.

"Are -are you there too, Sir?" said Edmund.

"I am," said Aslan. "But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.” 

― C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

blurry me and a blurry brother and someone's blurry hand having

a dance party with small children in disney springs. because--yes. 

photo cred: Jacob

I must learn to know Him in other ways--Ordinary Life and NET Life are different, but God is present and overwhelmingly Real in both. He is Real, He is Present---and He is not Safe, but He is Good.

So, I’m here for now, and who knows where later, but wherever I am, I choose to keep hanging on to the joy and wonder that I had at seven years old. In the end, the difference between Lucy and Susan is that Lucy grew and Susan grew up. There is a difference between childlike faith and immaturity. I want to keep looking for the magic in this world, which isn't hidden in closets but out in the great wide open, if you're brave enough to find it and name it as such. I choose to live like Lucy Pevensie, who danced with the trees and loved her family and friends, and who believed in and saw Aslan even when no one else did.

Jesus, give me the grace to see a Lion where everyone else sees trees, and the grace to say so when everyone else still sees trees. 

***

Note #1). YEAH SO I'M DOING NET AGAIN. Which is incredibly awesome. Also as a part of doing NET, I need to raise $6,000. This is about a quarter of the cost of our training, transportation, and a small monthly stipend. Please consider joining me in this mission by donating! Most people in the world don't serve on NET, but we're all called to be a part of the Church's mission of evangelization, and donating to a NET missionary is an awesome way to do that. Go to www.netusa.org/donate, click on "Support A Missionary," and fill in "Kate Cherry" in the I'd Like To Join The Mission Of box. Thank you! 

Note #2) post related song recommendation.

concerning hobbits

JMJ
AMDG

He shows up at your door one day, and he knows you, though you don't recognize him at first. You remember him from your childhood--remember all the glittering light that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

But he is different now--or maybe it is you who is different. Nowadays, you aren't so sure that you like the sound of "adventure" in your ears.
He makes you flustered, and that makes you guilty, because once upon a time, you would have liked the sound of an adventure, but there are letters to read and you don't want to be late to dinner, so sorry, but you don't want any adventures, thank you.

But you, flustered, let him come to tea; you write it down in your engagement book: Adoration, Wednesday @ 6 sorry, Gandalf Tea Wednesday.

And then things start to happen; people start popping up into your life, and you find your patience being stretched very thin and what is happening? they're singing, and something in it moves you, but it's all rather silly and you go to bed---

---but the next morning, you're running down the lane and to the end of your days you will not remember how you found yourself outside, without a hat, a walking stick or any money, or anything you usually take when you go out. You're leaving your keys with someone else and running as fast as you can, pocket-handkerchiefs be damned.

Don't be precise, and don't worry, someone tells you.

(source)

This journey you go on is not an easy one. There are trolls and goblins and spiders and a dragon. There are people who glare at you and people who will hurt your friends. There will be riddles and fear and strange things. There will be death and blood and pain before it is over.

Someone will tell you that you do not belong, and you will feel that deep in your bones--you do not belong; you are too small, too weak; too inexperienced--but you are chosen and you are too far to turn back now.

Besides, there will be milk and honey in great houses; there will be elves singing in the trees and there will be the greatness of the mountains. There will be friendships and sacrifices; there will be the wonderment of the wind in your hair. There will be good days and bad ones, and you will not be the same when it is over.

At the end, when it is over, you will have lost the respect of the most respectable of your neighbors.

You will find you don't mind so much.

You remain very happy to the end of your days, which are extraordinarily long.

*

Tolkien did not intend for his writing to be allegorical, but I think it fits so well with vocation, with the universal call to holiness, with my own personal decision to serve with NET.

Life with Christ is a wonderful adventure.--St. John Paul II

Here's to forgetting pocket handkerchiefs.

deserts & manure

JMJ
AMDG
There are two passages I've come across lately in my Bible reading that have really stuck out.

So I will allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak to her heart. (Hosea 2:16)

A man had a fig tree growing in his vineyard, and he came out looking for fruit on it but did not find any. He said to the vinedresser, "Look here! For three years now I have come in search of fruit on this fig tree and found none. Cut it down. Why should it clutter up the ground?" In answer, the man said, "Sir, leave it another year, while I hoe around it and manure it; then perhaps it will bear fruit. If not, it shall be cut down." (Luke 13:6-9)

I think what this means is that it is sometimes necessary for life to suck.
I think what this means is that sometimes actual crap is what is necessary for our conversion and for us to turn to God.

It is an uncomfortable truth, to be sure, and rather a strange one.
He says, So I will allure her, and we think of pleasant times, of romance and sunsets and hours in Adoration where everything *feels good*--but then He continues, I will lead her into the desert and we aren't so sure anymore and WHAT IS THIS I WANT OFF.
But then He speaks to my heart. And to your heart. And that makes it worth it.

Because the desert is not the end game. The desert is not the point of life. The desert is a part of growing up. The desert is the spiritual equivalent of your awkward fashion phase in middle school. It will pass. It may take a while. It will pass.

The point of the desert is not to make you miserable. The point of the desert is to quiet your mind so that you can hear His voice again.

When He says I will hoe around it and manure it we get nervous. We want to hold onto the weeds in our lives, the little sins that are slowly choking us to death. We want thin soil, because it is safe; because it doesn't smell or feel uncomfortable.

But He knows best, and so sometimes it is necessary for stuff to stink. Sometimes we need hardship to develop the skills that lie inside us.

But remember: the point of the manure is not for it to be awful and painful and lead you to self-loathing. The point of manure is to help you grow. The point of the manure is for you to bear fruit.

And let's also remember that a good gardener does not wildly fling animal dung at his garden like WHOA YEAH LET'S MAKE A MESS IN HERE I BET I CAN COMPLETELY COVER THESE PLANTS WITH THIS MANURE. A good gardener analyzes the situation and gives a plant what it needs to grow. Sometimes that's manure. Sometimes it's more sun or more shade or maybe it needs to be watered.

And besides, this will not last forever. The last lines of Hosea chapter 2 are as follows:

From there I will give her the vineyard she had,

 and the valley of Achor as a door of hope. 

She shall respond there as in the days of her youth, 

when she came up from the land of Egypt. 

On that day, says the Lord, 

she shall call me "My husband" 

and never again, "My baal"*

Then I shall remove from her mouth all the names of the Baals, 

so that they shall no longer be invoked.

I will make a covenant for them on that day, 

with the beasts of the field, 

with the birds of the air, 

and with the things that crawl on the ground. 

Bow and sword and war 

I will destroy from the land, and 

I will let them take their rest in security. 

I will espouse you to me forever; 

I will espouse you in right and in justice, 

in love and in mercy; 

I will espouse you in fidelity, and you shall know the Lord. 

On that day I will respond, says the Lord;

 I will respond to the heavens,and they shall respond to the earth; 

The earth shall respond to the grain, and wine, and oil, 

and these shall respond to Jezreel. 

I will sow him for myself in the land, 

and will have pity on Lo-ruhama. 

I will say to Lo-ammi, "You are my people," 

and he shall say, "My God." 

(Hosea 2:17-25)

God bless. I'm praying for you.

*baal: lord/master