truth haunts me.

truth haunts me. 

this undeniable reality, not mine to behold. 

too sweet to stomach.

too other to comprehend.

who am I that I may live preyed upon by your holiness. 

who are you that you welcome in your enemy.

that you chose to inflict the unwilling with life. 

to break into my deserved darkness.

providing light to see.  

looking at me in the blood of my war against you, casted away my shame.

stepping in with]embrace, "beloved you are mine"

you took my wounded form, and made me righteous. 

filling me with the finest of food. 

clothing me in a beauty not mine to know.

yet swaddled beneath your robe, I thought I could create a fuller life. 

I waged war against you, in that I tried to forget you. 

running away, rejecting all I know, pursuing all I desire. 

out of breathe I landed, as a corpse that you had already brought to life.

who is this God that has come so near that he has stepped into my sin, calling it his. 

that has forever been singing the song of salvation over me, even if I’m only hearing it now. 

this melody that speaks life, while I try and recreate death.

truth I need you to haunt me, for I am to prone to leave.

I am desperate for you to possess my being.

that I would be consumed by the man on the cross, and know the one who is God with us.

As my bottle empties

I think all theology should be done with beer. 

It reminds me that as I come to my thoughts, at the core of my being, I am a creature filled with vanity, desires, and pursuits. 

It reminds me that at all times I am but a drunkard trying to understand the greatest mystery. 

It reminds me that I am constantly one lusting after what is proposed beauty. 

It keeps me humble, makes me lowly. 

Shows me as a beggar on the hem of truths cloak. 

Exposes my sweet self satisfying attempts as bitter. 

Beer makes me stop and remove my facade. Makes me think, write, and speak in the truth of my depravity. 

I'm a rebel, a law-breaker, and a drunkard too. 

Beer makes me admit all of these. 

But what joy to be the destitute. To be the broken and abused. To realize the only on at fault is me. 

To see that Jesus has looked at my lowly

estate. Held my tear-streaked mocking face, giving me His righteousness and holding me tight. The love of Christ becomes more real, and far more intoxicating than any drink I have known. 

So I sit, on my steps by myself with thoughts in my head and a beer in my hand. 

I know it's not a pity to drink alone, but rather a joy to know I am not. 

Beer leaves me tipsy, that I may fall into the embrace of my Savior. 

So as my bottle empties, my cup overflows

Musings from a rainy day

13 years ago I sat in my before school program as the television demanded our attention from the back of the room. What was happening to that building? Why did my teacher look so panicked.

The replay showed what I will never remove from my memory, as 9/11 unfolded before public television. 

//

My mom loves U2. One day the song Sunday Bloody Sunday played through the cars speaker system. Mom why is it a Bloody Sunday? Why is there broken bottles under children's feet? 

That song made me realize war as a terrifying reality. "Oh how long must we sing this song."

//

Musings:

There is no way to play hide and seek with the battle between light and darkness. You are either scarred by it, or you're blind to it. The only antidote to ignorance is exposure to the darkness jolting you out of your pretend light. 

The darkness knocked the breathe out of me, forcing me to cling to the sweet oxygen of light, reviving with the sweet fragrance of purity. With the smell lingering from the light, I still know that darkness is a present truth. 

Sweetly fading sentiment belligerently wage against fragments of truth breaking through the sophistry of my facade. Learning to accept bitterness and sorrow as the main characters to the backdrop of the mirage of perfection. 

Fiction has taught me to except pain, or rather detest the fallacy of all things tinted rose. There is no glasses that can fit the ridge of the realist I have become. 

The glass is half empty, but a day will come where it will be fully full.  

-Marina

Joys, Sorrows, & Lessons. Greece Post 9

This will be my last blog post from Greece. Sunday morning we leave Leptokarya to take a 7 hour bus to Athens. From Athens we fly to Amsterdam and spend the night. Monday from Amsterdam we fly to Chicago arriving at O'Hare around 2pm.

While in many ways I don't understand my experience here are a few joys, sorrows, and lessons in relation to my leaving Greece:

Joys about returning to America:
Returning to the Sunday night prayer gathering at Moody
Flushing toilet paper
My Ukulele
Good black coffee
Fresh air non-second hand smoke infused
Internet on my phone
Understanding what people are saying
Going to my church
Drying clothes in a drier

Sorrows about leaving Greece:
Not hearing the Greek language
No more Cappucino Freddos
No more (good) Souvlaki
Not being near the Sea
No more stumbling over ruins
No more gelato
No more white houses with blue trim
No more bakeries
No more quiet hours (aka nap time)
No more (socially accpeted) olive oil on everything
Not knowing when/if I will be back
Saying difficult goodbyes

Lessons I have learned:
Daily learning who God is
What it means to live in simplicity
To learn you have to take risks
How much I appreciate Moody
God is faithful
All that God does is beautiful
The power of prayer
In Him we live and move and have our being


So long lovely land

Break My Heart. Greece Post 8

September 23-29 Ministry Week
This trip I have often been praying, "Break my heart for what breaks Yours." God answered my prayer by daily opening my eyes, splitting my heart, tearing my comfortable known world and showing me the injustice that has began to abound in His world. Our group was split into three focus groups; sex trafficking, TESOL, and evangelism. I was in the prayer for those in sex trafficking group.

Monday: We worked with a ministry that goes to the brothels in Athens and talks with the women and creates relationships with them. They offer their help, guided by the love of God, to these women in extreme compassion. As we reached the ministry we were informed that there were over 200 brothels within a 1km radius of the very building we were in at that moment. Prostitution is legal in Greece, and is seen as a part of society. Our purpose of the day was to walk through brothel row and pray. We left the building, and after a two minute walk, I saw the first light. It hung dimly above a door. It looked normal. Then I saw the next, and the next, soon they were on both sides. My stomach sank. I was sick beyond my own understanding. Frozen. Tears were filling my eyes as I thought that there were girls, no different from me, on the other side of that door whose vulnerability has been tainted. And here I was. Free.
We went back to the room were we talked about what we experience. I conveyed my anger, sadness, and confusion. The leader of this group then spoke truth that is still ringing in my mind. "Our God is Holy and just. If you feel this way, imagine how He feels." God hates sin and he hates to see his creation in this position. He is Holy and just and will redeem.

Tuesday: We went in smaller groups of 5 to Christian refugees house, encouraging them and praying for them. It was humbling to see 10 people crammed into a small house where they all lived, and yet they extending their hospitality.

Wednesday: There was a prayer walk for a neighborhood in Greece. It is known for being the most populated region of Athens, yet there is only one known Christian family. We prayed in pairs for God to bring salvation to the land, and that the streets would declare His glory.

Thursday: A group of us went to a worship service of a ministry, then got to join them in their outreach to drug addicts. I have never been exposed to something like this and honestly it was haunting. I saw images I will never un-see, and the Lord definitely broke my heart yet again. The factor that struck me the most were the volunteers of the ministry. They looked at these drug addicts with such compassion that pierced my fear. I later found out that a majority of the people volunteering were saved by this very ministry. One man had been off of the streets for 1 month and 5 days, and each day was counted as a success. All he wanted to do was tell those stuck in the very sin he was entangled in of the freedom in Christ

Friday: Rest Day

Saturday: We helped with a Kids Fest to reach out to the same community we prayed for on Wednesday. I was with the Face Painting group. That night I turned girls into kitties and princesses, and boys into superheroes.

Sunday: I woke up early, and since it was my last full day in Athens, I set out. I went to one of the Squares, and sat. I then heard singing. It was coming from a small Orthodox church near me. It sounded like the service had already started, but I entered. Idols and incense clouded my vision. I sat in one of the chairs, the only one under the age of 40 there. I watched as the attendees kissed the pictures, lit candles, and made the sign of the cross. This felt like a Holy place. As C.S. Lewis says in Till We Have Faces, "Why must holy places be dark places." This was dark. In my mind I pictured Jesus shouting "LOOK AT ME!!! LOOK AT ME!!!" Yet, they looked to Paul and Mary.

Greece, you break my heart.
I have learned that while this land is beautiful, it's just a shadow. It's a mirage. From the distance it's wonderful and perfect, as soon as you go to touch it and experience it, it vanishes. What you are left is dry dirt. Dirt. Tainted Sand.
God redeem Your land. Amen.

So long home. Greece Post 7

It's amazing how in a matter of 8 weeks Pikermi, Greece has become home. I have learned what to buy from the store, what trees have the best figs, what to order at the local cafe, what routes to go on a run, what bus to take to get to Athens, and so much more. However, now home is being uprooted and this week has had a lot of lasts.


Last run up the hill.

Last time climbing the fig tree.

Last time sitting on the roof gazing at the stars.

Last time walking to Cafe Veneti for rose cookies and an espresso freddo.

Last time sitting in the green chapel.

Last time waking up to the smell of fresh bread.

Last time sitting on the ledge near the gate watching sunrise


I knew going into this trip that we would only be at Greek Bible College during the beginning of the trip, yet this change is startling. We pack our bags, trinkets, and memories up and set out again.

Tomorrow we leave to stay in a hotel in Athens for nine days while we have a ministry week. After that we are touring Turkey, going to the churches mentioned in Revelation. Lastly, we will be finishing the trip as we stay at a camp near Thessaloniki.

I have been loving Greece, and I know it's only a matter of time before I come back. Now I hope that I can cherish every moment that I have left here.

So long Pikermi, sweet, Pikermi. It's time to continue the adventures

Mykonos. Greece post 6

This past weekend we went to Mykonos. While this island is known for it's raging parties, we were there for the thrill of a new land. For me, there is something oddly intoxicating in adventure. It lures me in with the unknown.

We rented ATVs and zipped around the land. Without a goal, we landed on the terrain of an abandoned lighthouse. 

Rolling hills, white houses, blue trim and ever present sea greeted us at every turn. 

 Mid-day we stopped at a bakery, and sat by the bay with our espresso freddos.

The next endeavor included a beach with water like crystal. 

Night rides on the ATVs, resulting in a flat tire at 11pm. 

Little Venice windmills

Sunrise, moonset

Hostel bungalow

Paradise

So long Mykonos

See this video for more info of the weekend: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wRJq8OIW43A&list=UU8RpZY-VQmXj3XNpVWTyGkQ