Posted in General Posts by Anna Vaughan on 3/8/2011
Written April 21st, 2010: Thank God we change, that we do not become who we want to be.
That we do not pick our destiny at a young age and barrel ahead with a single agenda and no chance to alter our course.
Motivation moves us forward.
Free will is the mother of our failure.
Love redeems us.
One day, surrender will perfect us.
Sometimes I try and retrace my steps. How did I get here... to this moment? What brought me this far, in this direction, through those trials... ultimately to end up here.
How did I become... me?
Many people in my life today don't know who I used to be.
The little girl who was terrified of new places and of strangers,
Who never held a baby, for fear of breaking them,
Who would rather lay on the bed and read a book than spend any time outside,
Who wanted to grow up and open a coffee shop and write books about people who took grand adventures...
-
I walked into their front yard last night without a second thought. The porch light was on and light glinted against the windchimes hanging from their roof. I could hear them yelling inside. The sound of feet pounding on the floor in the hallway... then the storm door being thrown open... then hollow footsteps on the porch.
He threw himself into my arms.
His eyes were wide and bright. He told me his name, then spelled his name, and announced he was seventy-two years old. He played with my hair as he talked to me, sometimes reaching up and touching my face.
Really... he was six. Too big to be held in my arms the way I was. But it didn't matter.
They led me inside and handed me the baby. One month old, he was still sleeping. I pulled him close and they handed me a bottle and walked away. Suddenly... I was by myself. Standing in the hallway of a strange house, with pitbulls scratching at the bedroom door, and an army of people unloading a truck outside.
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So many moments add up to make our lives.
Moments take us by surprise and transform us.
When we least expect it, we are stretched. We turn in a new direction. Scales fall from our eyes.
We discover potential we never knew we had.
We learn how to love.
That babies don't break easily.
We learn how to pray.
And what it feels like to have dirty feet.
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I did not grow up to be who I wanted to be.
And I will not end up who I am right now.
But there is a whisper I can hear... that suggests I was made for this life.
For adventures and babies and dirty feet.
I retrace my steps... realizing that every one was taken to lead me here.
And every one I take from here on out will be taken to get me there.
Toward becoming who I was created to be.
No time wasted.
It's been almost a year.
Since I picked up a bucket and carried it into a house in the inner city.
About 321 days since everything changed.
Again.
March 16th, 2010 I wrote: "I forget, sometimes, that God builds us up like building blocks. That every season of brokenness does not tear us all the way down to the ground. And so I expected, after Africa, for my calling here in the States to change. I assumed that what God had been leading me towards before was not interconnected with what He's leading me towards now. Except that, in reality, He's been preparing me for this all along. He knew my path curved this way a long time ago. Which is why He created me the way He did. Why He jumps for joy when I learn not to be anxious, but to pray about everything."
I'm sitting here, almost in tears.
I am thinking about Kingdom Dreams. And about my kids.
As you prayerfully and financially support me in this next season of my ministry, I want you to go and check out how God's been blessing me and stretching me over the past year. Know that one of my Kingdom Dreams is to see revival and restoration in the ghettos. Urban, inner city children are the beat of my heart. And more than frozen yogurt and hot showers and well-organized traffic systems... I will miss them this next year.
To know me, you must catch a glimpse of my heart.
Serve the City East End.
Bless it... my heart is so tired tonight.
Please consider becoming part of my team. Whether through prayer or financially... your contributions and even your creative efforts are what I need. What I need to make another Kingdom Dream come to fruition.
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Posted in General Posts by Anna Vaughan on 3/7/2011
I am afraid of the dark.
I hate walking into dark rooms. I hate shadows. I hate it when I forget to leave my porch light on and I come home to a dark doorstep.
My sweet sister shares this fear with me.
It can be really paralyzing. And with imaginations like ours, it can be terrifying.
It is only scary when I'm alone though.
So when I got a text from my sister tonight, asking for me to pray for her over the phone as she got ready for bed, I understood. Sometimes just a voice is all we need.
Sometimes a voice can banish all fear.
I called her. And prayed for her. As I prayed, tears just started streaming down my face.
I don't really know why. Other than every once in a while, I am overwhelmed by Jesus. I am consumed with amazement over the power of prayer and just how special it is. Together Olivia and I went to Jesus and said, "Hey. The darkness really scares us. Be bigger than that."
And He was.
Tonight, I keep thinking about what John says in his gospel.
Be praying, please. Because as the Race approaches, I will encounter more and more of this darkness. The great commission, after all, sends us running right into it.
Candles blazing, lanterns lit, spirits shining - straight into the darkest depths.
"In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." (John 1:4-5 ESV)
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Posted in General Posts by Anna Vaughan on 3/3/2011
Sometimes I wish we were given warnings upon waking up.
"Good morning, Anna! Today's gonna be one of those rough ones. Put on the right socks, please."
Then there are days I know had I been warned of the coming events, I never would have gotten out of bed.
Sometimes we have to be taken off guard so that we end up in the right place at the right time.
Which is what happened this morning.
I was sitting on a bench, listening to my iPod, waiting in the lobby for economics class to start. It was too early in the morning for any significant thoughts to be racing through my head. I was lost in the music when the elevator doors opened.
I was just looking straight ahead when a tall, black girl step off the elevator. And just as the elevator doors closed I remember seeing a short, white guy staring out. We made brief eye contact before the doors completely shut. "She was just on the elevator with an angel," was the very first thought that popped in my head.
An angel.
Why in the world did I have that thought?
Fo a moment the girl stood in front of me, staring awkwardly ahead of her as if she was waiting on me to say something. I took one earbud out to ask if she was okay (and I secretly wondered if she had seen him and thought he was an angel too). But before I could get a word out, a very large, white woman came bursting through the hallway doors.
She ran up to the girl and got in her face - aggressively, yelling words I didn't even understand. The girl just froze, looked to the ground and then at me. Immediately I took both of my earbuds out of my ears and the large woman's attention was pulled from the elevator-girl and fixed on me.
She stared at me. Defiantly, without blinking. Pointed at me and called me a very derogatory name, and then said: "look away from me. Over there. Look over there. Do not look at me. Look away from me now, (insert racial slur here)!" I stared. And kept staring. Partially because I was frozen. And partially because I recognized this. I knew what this was.
When I didn't look away, the woman backed off and quickly ran down the hallway.
I stood up and asked the elevator-girl what in the world just happened. She shook her head and replied that the woman had been on the elevator with her on a lower floor. On their ride together, the woman had threatened to kill the elevator-girl. In her rage, the woman had gotten off the elevator early, only to run into the elevator-girl in the lobby again. Right in front of me.
Elevator-girl and I exchanged names and I went into economics class. Elevator-girl is from Africa.
It wasn't until I was sitting in class that I was reminded of the "angel". The angel who had been riding the elevator during the entire altercation. The one who had made brief, brief eye contact with me seconds before I came face to face with the enemy. I was convinced.
Do you ever wonder what someone sees when they look at you? Do they see Jesus? Do they see light emanating from your face? Do you realize, as a believer, you have the power to bind spirits and cast away demons? That you literally irritate the hell out of the forces of darkness, because you keep shedding light on their shadows?
I've been praying for open eyes. For God to show me what's going on - to give me a glimpse of His angel armies and for scales to fall away. I know I sound crazy. But I know I witnessed part of the battle this morning. I never even prayed, you know? I didn't sit there and pray "God, bind the evil spirit that is threatening us right now." Or "in the name of Jesus, I command you to leave!". Wish I'd thought of that.
No. I just needed to be sitting there. I needed to not look away. I needed to be a witness. I needed to let Jesus do what Jesus does.
Hmm. What a way to start your Thursday, with a few angels and demons.
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Posted in General Posts by Anna Vaughan on 2/28/2011
Spring's coming. The thunderstorm that woke me up at 3:30 AM told me so. The world is turning and we are tilting gently towards the sun and what was frozen is melting and what was asleep is being awakened.
I woke up periodically throughout the night to bright flashes of lightening and deep rumbles of thunder. My heart skipped, knowing how close this new season is.
And just like I do every morning, around 6:30 AM I pulled out of my driveway and went on my way to work. Rain pelted against my windshield, trickled through the duct tape holding my back passenger-side window in place. Thunder shook the asphalt under my car and rain shot furiously to the ground in the yellow cast of slow-moving headlights.
I almost hydroplaned multiple times. As I drove down one of the main arteries in Lexington, I began to notice traffic was moving slower and slower. Bottlenecking, even. Suddenly I saw why.
Just ahead of me, the asphalt dipped, creating a basin. A basin where at least eight inches of water churned. Swirled. Nasty and gray and fast-moving. Traffic was merging to the right lane because in the left lane there was an Oldsmobile parked in the middle of the churning rainwater. Lights on, wipers slinging rain.
There was no other option but to slowly navigate the little river that had flooded the road. Carefully I merged right and passed the Oldsmobile. Something told me to look as I passed.
I watched a big, black man lean forward in his seat, just a shadow in the fogginess. Then I watched as he pulled into traffic right behind me, as if he'd been waiting for me to pass.
-
Let me tell you a secret. One that is important for you to know. You are going to think I'm crazy. And believe me, I'm ok with that.
God manifests Himself to me all the time. In the wind. And through people wearing sunglasses.
Yeah. I said it.
Lately God's been making His presence known through people wearing sunglasses. Strange, you say? Absolutely. But it is very much a "you can watch My back as I pass you by" sort of holy gesture. It's not everyone wearing sunglasses. Every once in a while God will deliberately get my attention, or startle me with a check on my spirit, and He will show up. Yesterday He was riding a bicycle down Liberty Road. The very first time, he was an old, black man with dreads sitting in an blue Chevy. Both we wearing sunglasses. Both showed up at a moment when I needed God to remind me that He is creative. And He is close.
Olivia and I send text messages back and forth over the course of the week. Most conversations start out with "Today He is..." and one or both of us will describe our interactions, or distant encounters, with the Almighty that day. It's a beautiful, simple thing. Our way of inviting God to take a walk with us (or maybe... His invitation to walk with Him). Something I truly believe our Father delights in.
This morning, however, when that Oldsmobile pulled into traffic behind me I heard the Father say: "that's Me, sweetheart. Right there. Keeping you out of high waters. Blocking your way, so you don't get in over your head. I am your Protector. I am your Hero. I am in your way."
I sent Olivia a text message that said, "today, He wasn't wearing sunglasses."
The significance of His sweet words this morning wouldn't hit me until later this afternoon, when I realized I was losing a battle. A battle with the enemy I didn't even know I was fighting.
I was being suppressed, held down, by this horrible melancholy and sadness. I had convinced myself of something, and had slipped into this state of sorrow over it. At the time I didn't realize just how deceptive the enemy can be. I am used to him attacking me with anxiety and fear and insecurity. Not with resignation.
So when I heard the voice of Truth whisper in my ear today, "I will take your every thought captive"... and I returned with the prayer, "God, please, take my every thought captive"...
I didn't expect what happened next.
Sorrow was lifted.
Instantaneously.
There had been a battle going on for my thoughts. With my surrender, came God's victory.
And I heard His words again. "I am keeping you out of high waters. Blocking the treacherous way, so you don't get in over your head. I am your Protector. I am your Hero."
Blessed am I, the beloved daughter of the Strongest One. The precious child of a Creator who loves His creation enough to hop into a blue Chevy and breathe heavy so the wind blows. The Almighty who "came down to find us", to find me, the one who got lost.
A couple of nights ago I was praying and I saw Him. Squatting on His knees, with the whole world cupped in His hands. I saw Him peer close, as close as He could get His face, and whisper strongly, quietly: "I love you... so much."
That is the image I want to leave you with tonight.
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Posted in General Posts by Anna Vaughan on 2/26/2011
Yesterday I quit my job.
Five and a half years ago, a seventeen year old walked into an office complex on the southside of Lexington, and listened to a manager say, "I guess we'll give you a try."
Their "try" would last almost six years. I grew up within the walls of that office. Fell in love and climbed back out of it. Started college. Quit college. Started college again. I got sick and learned how to bite my tongue. On some level I learned how to stand up for myself because of this job.
One of the greatest lessons this job taught me, however, was that I was made for so much more. Different things are important to me. This 9-5, cubicle job was not what I wanted for my life. It had, literally, become my safety net. My comfort zone.
And yesterday I quit.
I woke up yesterday morning to the craziest of wind storms. I was about to make one of those crazy, life-altering decisions. You know. I'd been teetering on the edge of trust and safety, carefully walking the line of my expanding comfort zone. And I'd been hearing God tell me to wait... it wasn't time to give up the job yet. That safety net was there for a purpose.
And then I in an exaggerated gust of wind I heard Him say: go. Go now.
I wanted nothing more than to jump up and down. That is, after the initial urge to vomit subsided.
After talking to my boss, I sent my Dad a text message.
I was remembering being eleven years old. My Dad resigned from his position as a pastor at our church. This decision completely rocked our worlds; one of those pivotal moments that changes everything. Vividly I remember the first time I walked into my living room and Dad was sitting in a chair reading a book. I slowly, quietly backed out of the room. I found my mom who was cooking in our old, steamy kitchen. "Did you see what he's doing??"
I had never seen Dad rest anywhere but on the beach before. Dad used to be so tired, all the time, that he'd walk in his sleep. Talk in his sleep. Eat in his sleep. He was empty.
After Dad quit his job at the church, he got a job at a local lawn service company. That first season their main job was to aerate rich people's yards. In other words, dig small holes. All day long.
Dad went into this job knowing it was not permanent. But he would come home at night and spread his map out on the kitchen table, grab the cordless phone, and we would sit together and map out his route for the next day. He did his job well. He smiled more.
Not long after that he started teaching DUI classes here in town.
Today, eleven years later, he is a LPCC. He is a counselor, working in a private practice, doing what he was created to do.
So I sent him a text yesterday morning that said: "time to aerate some yards".
And he responded by saying, "vacuum some tennis courts, paint some dumpsters, drive a zamboni..."
Those jobs were the jobs he had when he was in his early twenties. When I was a baby. That was the work he did to provide for our family when I was still very small. Jobs that had a beginning and an end. Where progress could be marked.
Yesterday I quit my job.
The job I'd had for almost six years. Which kept me from seeing the morning sun. A job that had me sitting down for nine hours a day. Alphabetizing xray reports and sorting mail. A job that was a huge blessing in it's time. With a flexible schedule and good pay.
Yesterday, I thanked God that some things have an end. That there are seasons in our life that are meant to happen and then be done. They are there to change who we are. A transportation device - to get us from here to there. A safety net. I am so thankful that at some point, God calls you out it, though. "Come on, let's get outta here..." I heard Him whisper. "Say thank you, but we need to go now."
I have two or three jobs lined up. Jobs, which will have me on my feet. Working with kids and delicious frozen yogurt. With people who love Jesus and love me. I have entered into a state of detox. A change of pace. A state of trust. Time to shake it off. (Throw off everything that hinders...)
One day, maybe eleven years from now, I will look back to my resignation from the first real job I ever had and I will smile. Then, even more than I do now, I will understand how deeply imperative it was for me to to leave. To "drive a zamboni" for a season.
Yesterday I thanked God that while some things are meant to end, His faithfulness never does.
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Posted in General Posts by Anna Vaughan on 2/24/2011
Today in Kentucky it rained all day.
All day.
It was one of those days when I felt myself wishing God was tangible enough to just sit on the couch with, resting.
Sometimes words are not enough.
I am out of words.
So I asked, as tomorrow holds a huge decision for me, that God would make Himself known.
That He would speak to me and I would be close enough to hear. That He would know, even when I don't have words to explain, how much I loved Him.
I got out of my car tonight, just as the rain died down a little. As I walked into the store I watched a dad get his little girl out of the car. Dressed in a pink raincoat and tiny pink rainboots, he put his little girl down on the ground and she started running for the door. He laughed and took a few large steps to catch up with her.
I walked a little slower. Recognizing God's sweet pattern of communication unfolding.
The dad reached out and gently brushed his daughters hair, steering her towards the doors of the store. She kept running and he kept right in step with her, all the way across the parking lot. Every once in a while he would reach out his hand and touch her head and steer her back on track. A little farther to the left. A little more to the right.
Finally they got to the automatic doors. I watched as the dad scooped his daughter up in his arms as the doors whooshed open with a hum and spray for rain.
Together they walked through the open doors.
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Posted in General Posts by Anna Vaughan on 2/22/2011
I woke up this morning, heavy under the shroud of apathy.
Not nervousness. Not fear. Not passion.
Just... nothing.
Laziness has overtaken my muscles. Like kudzu. Slowly. Overpowering.
The most dangerous poison. The most debilitating toxin.
"I don't care".
And I am overwhelmed with this nothingness. Unused muscles and a quiet spirit and weary creativity.
Awake my soul, replace this heart of stone with blood and nerves and emotions. (Ezekiel 36:26)
Stir the fire that's died here, search my heart and find the embers, still glowing hot and red.
Breathe life back into me.
Breathe life back into this bones.
The enemy's tactic of distracting us, preoccupying us with what is unimportant, is some of his most deceptive work.
Shine Your light where the darkness has overtaken.
For You are the Lord, my God. Here, take my right hand. I hear You say, "do not fear, I will help you." (Isaiah 41:13).
In the place of nothing, come joy and drive and passion. Take it all captive.
It's time. Time to go. And I need You to wake me up.
"It occurs to me it is not so much the aim of the devil to lure me with evil as it is to preoccupy me with the meaningless. " (Donald Miller)
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Posted in General Posts by Anna Vaughan on 2/20/2011
We think we know what we need.
We think we know what is important and exactly how things should play out so we get the best end of the deal.
We like to orchestrate, and we like to maintain control.
And sometimes we just can't see a big enough picture.
Sometimes, our requests are innocent. We know our minds are finite and that God's ways are higher than our own. But we don't know what else to do.
So we ask. There is nothing wrong with asking. But I am here to tell you: be prepared for God to not answer the way you expect Him to. Be ready for Him to blow your mind.
Matthew 6 is my favorite chapter (second only to Romans 8) in the entire Bible. Instructions. I like instructions. How to pray and fast and how to take care of the needy and not to worry about tomorrow or keep too much stuff around.
I like instructions. But as it turns out, I'm not great at following them.
I have a pretty large tattoo on my left shoulder... permanently put there after God started whispering to me, "do you trust Me? Do you trust Me to take care of you? Do you believe Me when I say that I hear you... and I know exactly what you need?"
Right after I got the new tattoo - of lilies, surrounding a dove which had been there for a few years already - God threw me into multiple trust-building situations. I should have known better. How sweet my Jesus is... foreshadowing is His favorite thing to do in my life.
So as of last week, it was looking like I was about to be homeless. My lease is up at the end of March in this house I am in and I had nowhere to go. I started praying about this a long time ago. After being accepted to the Race, I realized I desperately needed a cheap/free place to live for the next four months so I could save up for gear and student loan payments while I'm gone.
I started asking God for a free place to live.
And came up with nothing. Repeatedly. Doors would open and then slam in my face. But I kept praying. Asking. Seeking. Knocking.
I started to stress about the whole situation, but kept hearing our Father whisper, "what are you doing, babe? Don't you trust me? Don't you know that I, your Heavenly Father, know you need these things?"
Oh.
He had a point.
Who am I to trust Him to take care of me while traveling the world, and not trust Him to provide a place for me to live while I'm still camped out in the States? To trust Him to design a plan for my life, to unite me with a husband, to heal my sickness. But not to give me a place to lay my head?
So I kept pursuing options. Kept praying.
Saturday afternoon I got my 2010 taxes done. I have a lady who has done them for me - and for the rest of my family - for the past three years. So I went over to see her, and we sat for a little while talking about the Race and about how I was trying to remember that God provides and that I needed to file an extension for 2011 taxes.
That God's resources are buried deep and stacked high and spread wide.
Then my tax lady's jaw dropped. And she turned her computer monitor around so I could see the four digit number on her screen. She gave me a high-five.
Suddenly... everything changed.
Suddenly... where there had not been options, there were options. Where doors had been shut because of financial difficulty, they were thrown wide open.
And I heard Papa God say, "sorry it took so long. Had to wait on those tax documents to come in... and well, I didn't want to spoil the surprise by telling you early. I know it's not what you had in mind - but this will do, yeah?"
I had been asking for a free place to live.
God, instead, provided the money to pay for what I needed. Plus some.
Now to HIm who is able to do immeasurably more.
That night, I went to spend some time with the best people in my life. For the first time I sat across from a few of them and was almost brought to tears thinking about leaving them behind. Time changes us. I have witnessed first-hand what happens to an organic, living community who is radically loving and faithfully pursuing God. People like that don't stay the same for long. Which means in 11 months, major change will happen. And I won't be here to see it.
It was in the midst of that community that a dear friend of mine stepped up and offered me space in her home. She just needed help with utilities, she said. "I don't use that room or the bathroom, they're yours."
We love and serve and are chasing after a God who wants to use us to bless others. And in His infinite wisdom He has designed a plan so we can bless each other. The Kingdom of God is a beautiful cycle of selflessness and generosity and grace. Here, right now, I am part of an Act 2 community. The very body of Christ in motion. And this is Jesus reminding me,
"So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."
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Posted in General Posts by Anna Vaughan on 2/17/2011
I think God is in the wind.
John 3:8.
This started years and years ago, during an Easter vigil as I was praying in a friend's backyard. When I asked God to come and be with us, to be near to us, the wind began to blow violently. There were wind chimes in the trees.
Today whenever the wind blows, I hear our Father say, "I am here. So close. I am right here with you."
Today in Kentucky the wind has not stopped blowing. Even right now as I'm writing this, the wind is blowing so wild outside that someone's car alarm just went off. (Well. Maybe that wasn't the wind's fault. You should come hang out in my neighborhood!)
There was a specific reason why God chose to be so loud and obvious today, however. He knew I would desperately, desperately need His presence and His strength.
At some point I want to share with you what God's been speaking over me about the body of Christ and the church; the different "body parts" and the functions they serve. The way we know God uses us in unity. But all you really need to know right now is that He has been calling special attention to my eyes. My prayer for years now has been "open my eyes". Whether it was "open my eyes to the risks you want me to take" or "open my eyes so I can see what you see". He's fixated on my eyes, for some reason. And I wonder what scales are about to fall off.
I am not one to see satan and his demons lurking behind every bush. But I know my Father and so I have grown much more quick in the last few years to recognize what is not holy, what is not of Him. The faster I am able to identify a tactic of the enemy, the faster the battle is won. Usually it is my self esteem/self worth, which is attacked. A spirit of timidity or discouragement or insecurity or anxiety is not uncommon.
Today, something was going on inside of me that I didn't recognize. I was on my way to a job interview with a great company here in Lexington, which is owned by some friends of mine. Last week God helped me overcome my pride and fill out the application, as He began to speak to me about how healthy it would be to phase out of my current, toxic work environment.
I sat in my car for about an hour before the interview today. Reading This Present Darkness by Peretti with the windows rolled down in my car. I was having to literally push all my doubt and discouragement and fear and nerves deeper into a pit in my stomach. I did not want to go in for the interview. And I had no idea why.
I am just a few chapters into the book, but began to read a chapter in which the pastor is engaged in spiritual warfare. And in the midst of being beaten up by unseen demons, he rebukes them in the name of Jesus and they flee.
In that every moment, the wind blew. And I heard our precious Father say, "call to Me. Call to Me."
So I shut the book.
I began what I would later be able to recognize as a serious battle.
Which ended in my tears and the rebuking of every demon, which had tried to latch onto me. In the name of Jesus I sent them away. Whatever they were.
Then I got out of the car and went and landed the job. Turns out the guy who co-owns the shop went to highschool with Seth Barnes' daughter in Gainesville, Georgia. So when I told him I was leaving for the World Race in August, he leaned back in his chair and laughed. What was supposed to be a three-tiered interview process turned into a "hey, Anna, can we just hire you right now?".
I ended my evening with two beautiful friends of mine who gave me my second donation towards this amazing journey. Right now I am carrying the light burden and easy yoke of the Lamb. There are only some tears left in my eyes from the faces of some unfamiliar children who filled my mind while I was praying.
Now I'm home. And the wind is about to blow the house down.
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Posted in General Posts by Anna Vaughan on 2/15/2011
So. Why the World Race?
In 2008 I went to a Bible study at my friend Patrick's house. That night his friend Allison walked in the door. Allison had just flown in that very day from her route on the World Race.
I had never heard of such a thing before. And my heart certainly was not in a receptive state, that's for sure. Let me rephrase that. I thought Allison was crazy. Who in their right mind sells their car, quits their job, and leaves the country for a year?
I brushed it off, thinking "well, that's good for some people. But not for me."
Apparently I didn't brush it off. I tucked it away. Somewhere in the deepest parts of me. So deep that even when people in my community started pursuing the Race, I was still skeptical.
But last year God sent me to Africa. Ethiopia unlocked a secret door in my heart, which led to a room I never knew existed. A storehouse of dreams and visions and words of the Lord I had long ago dismissed. Brushed off as though they were irrelevant. Tucked away as if they were insignificant.
In July, my dear friend Daniel left for the Race. And as I prayed with him, over him, the night before he left I realized how much my heart wanted this. To see what God looked like in the world. To reach out to His children. My responsible nature was still in control, however. And so I brushed the idea off. Not out of disinterest this time.
In January, my best friend left for the Race. In October when we met in Newnan, Georgia for the first time in two years, we sat and talked about the risk she was about to take in the name of Jesus. I realized how much my heart wanted this, at that moment. To see what God looked like in the world. To fully trust Him. To love on His children. This time I took the idea carefully off my shoulders. Folded it neatly, smoothed away all the wrinkles, and tucked it safely in a drawer.
It was a good idea.
And I was not brave enough.
Every couple of days I would revisit that proverbial drawer. Pretending I needed something else... when all I really wanted was to take the idea out and look at it. Examine it. See if it seemed any more plausible. If it made any more sense. If it fit any less perfectly than it had before.
And just like He always does, God started doing some whispering. I laid in bed one morning watching Daniel's videos from Africa and begged God to take away this desire. I wanted to keep my passion and my heart, but put the desire on hold. He gently admonished me then, wondering why He would take something away that He had put there on purpose?
I realize, just for the record, this is all my own fault. I shouldn't have asked God to open your eyes and give you discernment and point out the risks He wants you to take in His name... and expected Him to keep me sitting in a cubicle and writing term papers in APA and nodding politely at my neighborhood barista.
So I filled out an application.
The same day I filled out my application, I got a call about a job opportunity here in Lexington. In my field of study. A shoe-in, because I am friends with management (aka my Dad used to run a unit. Connections, people. Connections.). This was the responsible decision. This was the path I should take.
Not where I was being led. Just what seemed to make sense.
Until my Dad walked into the house where I was babysitting my stepsisters (for free) and handed me forty dollars. Forty dollars. The exact amount of the application fee for the Race. In other words: the only obstacle keeping me from applying.
Long story short (who am I kidding?), after applying for the Race and applying for this job here in Lexington, my prayer was that God would gently shut a door. Even though He was whispering truth (Joshua 1:9) into my ears: "either way, love. Either way will get you exactly where I want you to be. Either way I will be with you."
I knew I was choosing between good and good.
I needed Him to shut a door.
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I never got a call back after the job interview.
And Allison, who now works for AIM in Gainesville, planned our August route.
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