As I sit down at my computer again my face heats up and my stomach tightens in a way where I know the time has come again to open up the rusty gates of my heart and mind to write about what the Father is doing in my life and in the part of the world I am currently living in.

This feeling is really distinct to me. When I get this feeling there are immediately memories that flood back. Visual pictures that represent other places where I have felt this exact overwhelming feeling. In Swaziland Africa I sat slumped at a tiny desk in a tiny room with a massive fan blowing directly into my face as I hoped and prayed that I wouldn’t actually melt onto my keyboard from the heat. I remember sitting on a twin size bed in Nashville, Tennessee listening to tons of different languages outside of my window in the refugee community I used to call home. I remember this feeling in a close-by Middle Eastern country where I could never really manage to put my feelings into words, partially because I did not totally know precisely what I was feeling.


So much has changed since I was that young girl sitting in a room in Swaziland Africa. Today, I am married to the best teammate, husband, and friend I could have ever asked God for. I am almost finished with college, which is almost equally as huge of a miracle, and I am living in a faraway country, one I never imagined visiting much less living in.


While many things have definitely changed, many things still remain the same. I still can feel my heart beating in my ears when I sit down to write about this journey. I still am overwhelmed by God’s willingness to use a broken child of His like me. I am still watching the same heavenly Father miraculously change hearts in some of the hardest places I have ever been. I am still just a kid sitting at a keyboard bawling my eyes out at the goodness of the loving Creator of the universe.


A few years ago I made a promise to myself that I would never become a “Facebook Politician”. I never wanted to use my platform as an international worker to air my political opinions over the internet. I personally have around a bizzilion opinions about politics and the current state of just about every nation on the planet, but I do not believe that many of these opinions help further the gospel in any way or are even encouraging or God honoring. So even as an opinionated millennial I made a choice at the beginning of my journey overseas to refrain as much as humanly possible from opinions that have very little to do with bringing the Gospel to the ends of the earth.


At the beginning of this journey this promise I made to myself was not a difficult one to keep. I was living in a hut and then an apartment in Africa just drinking in God’s goodness in the African sun. During this season the Father was teaching me and molding me in a way I had never been molded and shaped before spiritually. Most of this journey was completely encouraged by others, believers and nonbelievers alike. Moving to Africa to love AIDS orphans is not generally critique-able (other than people thinking my parents are insane for letting their 18-year-old move to Africa alone, hah!)


When I moved back to America and moved into the refugee community in Nashville “refugee” was not a buzz word. The war in Syria and the name ISIS were barely seen on the news or the internet. And the political climate was much different than it is today.


When I moved to Nashville I thought I would spend two years there, get a little training, start online college, and then pack my bags and move back to a more unreached area in Africa. I thought I would never get married. Never have children. And never look back.


I had barely lived in Nashville for six months before I knew God had given me a man to marry and had begun to change my heart to a completely different people group, language, and place in the world. At the time I had no idea that God was changing my soon-to-be-husband’s heart towards the very same thing.


To make a long, emotional, and ridiculous love story short, we started dating, got engaged, and got married all within the same year. God had given us both the teammates we would need for the next season of our lives.

As God was shifting our hearts towards the Middle East, the Syrian war really started to get bad. ISIS was in the news almost every day. Many of the friends we had made in Nashville could only sit and watch the TV as their home country was torn apart. Most of their families had to relocate. Sometimes our friends wouldn’t even know where their relatives were while they were in transit looking for a peaceful place to land.


To us it felt like God was teaching us and allowing us to fall in love with a people group while their entire worlds fell apart. While we grew increasingly disturbed by what was unfolding in the Middle East, our passion to reach these people with the gospel grew. While we watched videos of men in orange jumpsuits, and masked men with swords, we grew more and more uncomfortable in America and more determined that the Father was filling our hearts with a love that made no sense towards a people we were just getting to know.

There were some days where I was angry with our new burden for these people we barely knew and we did not understand. I remember my family and fiancé huddled around a TV together a few nights before our wedding. I remember us all watching the news as Paris was attacked in the name of Islam by extremists. I remember praying that the attackers weren’t refugees. And I remember news casters eventually reporting that they suspected at least one of them to be one.

That night I was genuinely confused, frustrated, heartbroken, and more motivated than I remember ever feeling before. I was irritated with God that He allowed us to fall in love with the Middle East just as it was falling apart. I was mad that these evil attacks were consistently carried out, and I knew that for every explosion that made western news, there were a ton of other explosions in the Middle East that also killed innocent people that didn’t.


This was around the same time I knew that in order to refrain from putting my political opinions on the internet, I would probably have to stop sharing this part of our journey. As we were making choices to love these people it felt like much of America was becoming increasingly frightened and was trying to keep them out. This was probably also around the same time that I realized that what is best for America and what is Biblical is not always the same thing.


My heart began to hurt in a new way for believers around us. While many people were excited to send me off to Africa as an 18-year-old with no plans other than to love orphans, people were far more hesitant when I, as a married 21-year-old, packed our bags and told people we were moving to the Middle East to love refugees. People nodded in reassurance when I left to Africa, People raised their eyebrows and asked questions like “are you sure” when we left to go to the Middle East.


I want to take a second and pause and say that most of our families were supportive of our move even if all of them did not necessarily understand it. I also want to mention that our sending church in America was not only supportive of us going, but it would be next to impossible for us to have even gotten here without them. God used our sending church in an incredible way that probably needs to just be written about in another blog.



While we were surrounded by many that encouraged us, there were many who did not. Our hearts hurt for the Middle East and for the American Church.

It was about a year between the day we got married and the day we got on a plane and moved to the Middle East. The year in between was full of a ton of questions, training, and prayer. For years we had said “to live is Christ and to die is gain”, but truthfully I struggled with fear in the days leading up to our move, and sometimes still do. I buried myself in the book of Joshua and reminded myself daily to be “strong and courageous” and I still remind myself almost daily. I remember having nightmares of bombings occurring in our new home while my husband and I were not together. I had to leave my fear at the cross in the days leading up to our move and have continued to fight to do so every day since.


I guess this is partially why I am writing this to begin with. My refrain from writing began with my trying not to spam the world with another “Facebook Politician” but I think that somewhere in all of that I have neglected to tell others about what God has done and is still doing in my life and in the lives of people in the Middle East.


Jesus is revealing Himself to people who have never heard about Him in some of the darkest places imaginable. And while living in this region is hard, Jesus is worth it. Jesus is worth getting threatened by terrorist organizations. Jesus is worth learning a hard language. Jesus is worth leaving what is familiar. Jesus is worth missing birthdays and deaths in our home country. Jesus loves the people here as much as He loves the people in America. Jesus died for the sins of the people here just as much as he died for everyone else’s sins. JESUS IS WORTH DYING FOR. And many people here are hearing about His sacrifice and love for them for the very first time.


If this makes me another “Facebook Politician” then I guess I am okay with it. But I cannot sit back any longer and not tell the unbelievable news of what God is doing here regardless of what is on the news channels here or in the USA.


Jesus loves the Middle East. He loves Arabs. He died for them. And many of them do not know Him yet.


Please please please pray for the Middle East.

Jesus the Messiah is the only way this region will ever truly know real peace.


As for us, we are loving calling this beautiful and challenging place home. We are trying to drink in all of what the Father is doing here and we still cannot believe He is even allowing us to be a small part of it.


To The Ends of The Earth




C doesn’t write a whole lot, but when he does… its rad. Enjoy::


You know that time in your life where nothing seems to be going too right? That time where whenever something good actually happens there are about a billion other things in your life that suck so bad you feel like an octopus is stuck to your face? I have fortunately never literally had an octopus stuck to my face, but I can imagine that its thousands of little suckers probably feel about as painful and lousy as these billions of little things that just keep going wrong in our lives.

I think most people would say that they’re either there right now, or that they definitely know that time and they are super glad they aren’t there right now!

And who can really blame them! It really is a lousy place to be and no one would seriously choose to be lousy rather than happy, right?

It’s kind of like Joseph in the bible. I mean this guy has this crazy dream where he sees himself in a high position in the land to the point in which even his brothers are there and they’re bowing to him. Too bad no one told Joseph that his brothers weren’t all too fond of him being dads favorite son with the flashy cute coat, and when he told them that he had that dream something in them just snapped. After much debate these brothers decide not to kill Joseph and instead sold him off to one of the local caravans travelling about. And then this caravan decides to sell him to this dude named Potiphar. And then Potiphar’s wife tries to sleep with Joseph and he says uh no no. And then Joseph gets thrown in jail because Potiphar thinks that Joseph was actually trying to sleep with his wife. And then Joseph is in jail for many years. And then Joseph dies. The End.

Fantastic story isn’t it?

At this point most of you are going,” Um, is he reading the same bible that I read?”

Well the answer is yes, but here is my point.

How often do we as Christians cut ourselves short of the whole story?
How often do we let the billions of bad things rob us of all the good that God has blessed us with as well as the ending that he has promised us?

The answer my friends is way too often.

Too often we allow these things to creep up on us and then… and then… and then…

And then we don’t even see the good. We totally miss it. We don’t see what God could potentially be doing in the meanwhile and we are for sure not hopeful for what the end result will be because we are so focused on the negative.

In the midst of all the bad we tend to think that the only way our story ends is like that of Joseph and the coat of no good, downright, awful colors rather than the real story of Joseph and the coat of many colors. Which might I add ends with Joseph becoming #2 in the land because he interprets Pharaoh’s dream, his brothers come and end up bowing to him like his dream said at the beginning of the story, and oh I dare not forget to remind all of you that because of God using Joseph during this whole time Israel literally gets saved from a famine.

I mean WOO!

Now that is an ending to a story! Talk about God having a plan all along and knowing exactly what He was going to do with Joseph! I seriously can’t think of a better underdog story than that! (Except for Gideon, his story is just righteous(Pun definitely intended)) The crazy thing though is that we are promised that ending! We are promised by God that we will withstand through trials and tribulations of every kind, and no matter what on the back end we are going to come out victorious over those struggles.

So again I go back to my question, no one would seriously choose to be lousy rather than happy, right?

It all comes down to a choice, and it indeed is a choice.

In our family we have a running theme.

“Choose Joy”

And as I sit here fighting back tears looking at this chalkboard decoration on our wall that has this theme written on it, and I ponder over this theme that I have oh so struggled with for quite some time now, all I can really think to do is encourage everyone else who reads this to remember that joy is a choice.

And if we decide to not choose joy then we also decide to not trust in Gods ending to the struggle.

I think it’s about time that I put that chalkboard in a place where I can focus a little bit better on choosing joy for a while,

What about you?

To The Ends of The Earth



Since moving to Nashville I have had a hard time really wanting to settle down at a church.

As a pastors daughter I have around a billion emotions and opinions about the church, but recently C and I have finally decided to settle down at a church here and to my surprise it has been far more emotional than expected for me.


My dad has been my pastor since I can remember.

He is a GREAT pastor but an even better father to my three older brothers and I.

Up until I met C he has been my best friend and my favorite super hero.


I also have the greatest mother in the universe.

She is a public speaker and an author.

My family has always laughingly said that my mom is a better pastor than my dad but while we laugh we all know it is true. She is his battery, the Great and Powerful Oz behind the curtain, and the best helper I have ever seen.

I have never even seen a professional sports team function together as well as my parents do.




This church C and I have been attending is pretty rad.

It’s relatively small and reminds me of the church my dad served at in Birmingham before it really grew to what it was when we left.

This pastor is really awesome and a great teacher.

And he has a daughter.


I’m not totally sure how old she is but she’s probably somewhere around eight or nine.

This morning she was proudly wearing a tiara while she ran around the church as if it was her actual home.

She has a bit of mischievous in her little smirk.

And you can really tell she loves her dad.


Every Sunday our pastor goes to the alter during worship and the congregation is invited to pray over him.

I haven’t been attending this church for very long but every time I have been there this little girl makes her way to the front from wherever in the sanctuary she is and she goes and lays hands on her dad to pray for him.


This morning in particular as I watched her little hand on her dad I was overcome with emotions I didn’t even know existed.


I didn’t know whether to pull her aside and tell her to run for the hills or to assure her that her father is actually a superhero and to never pass up an opportunity to pray over him.


At first I wanted to seriously tell her to take his hand and convince him to find an occupation where people are nice.

I wanted to tell her that if she continues to trust her dad he will eventually introduce her to her Heavenly Father and then there really is no turning back.

I wanted to tell her that if she chooses to love whole-heartedly like that, it really might end in her surrendering her life to the gospel.

I wanted to explain to her that following in the footsteps of ministers and pastors wives means that your doors will always be open,

you will love people a whole lot and those people will hurt you,

and even worse, they will hurt her family.

I wanted to tell her that her father speaks truth,

but that truth means abandoning everything.

That type of abandonment might mean living overseas separated from her dad, and that sometimes it’s really scary to have a dad that does what’s right instead of what’s easy.


In the same breath I wanted to tell her that he has the hardest and coolest job in the world.

He is doing a job that will impact eternity.

He is doing something that matters and that’s way bigger than himself.

I wanted to tell her that what he speaks is truth.

And that, while it is hard to believe, her Heavenly Father loves her way more than her earthly father will or ever could.

I wanted to tell her that that is the only type of love that is worth abandoning everything for.

And that one day it will seam a lot less like “loss” and a whole lot more like “gain”.

I wanted to tell her to love even when it hurts, and to do the right thing not the easy thing.

I wanted to hug her and tell her that it’s okay to speak truth.

I wanted to tell her that the church will hurt her family sometimes but Christ was hurt first and He understands that type of pain.

I wanted to tell her that one day she might be preparing to go to the ends of the earth with her husband, that her dad might not be able to talk about exactly where she is or what precisely she is doing in front of his congregation in order to protect her.

I wanted to tell her that it is all totally worth it.


Almost a year ago my dad stepped down as the senior pastor at a church.

I would be lying if I said any of it has been easy. Doing the right thing sucks sometimes.

I want so badly to protect my parents and honestly I never want him to pastor another church.

But I know that if he does, it will only be because God has called him there.

With that being said, I figured I’d write a letter to the next church my dad pastors just


case (:




Your Pastor Search Committee has good taste! All kidding aside, I truly believe there is not a couple that is more qualified to love and lead you than my parents.


I know you’re technically hiring my Dad, but don’t get it twisted,

He comes with a powerhouse of a wife,

She is the most hospitable human you will ever meet and an awesome cook, there’s pretty much an open invitation at their house but either come hungry or don’t come at all.

If you’re looking for a super quiet pastor’s wife, you’ve got the wrong one.

She’s a crazy good public speaker, she has read the Bible all the way through every year since I was like three, and she knows more about theology than many pastors.

Not to mention her and Jesus are on like a first name bases because she spends so much time talking to him.

She is patient, kind, encouraging and graceful, but quiet is not the word I would use.


He also has three incredibly intelligent sons, the oldest one is a pastor, the second one just graduated seminary, and the third is starting seminary now.

They all have the wisdom of my dad but the compassion of my mom.

And last but not least he has a super obnoxious and opinionated daughter.

And while I might live on the other side of the planet when you read this, I am crazy and will always only be a plane ticket away.


We are a package deal.

We would die for my parents.

And none of us are rookies at this.

… so buckle up.



…Truth is we all love the Body of Christ… The Church.

We are all devoting the rest of our lives to making disciples, and we are all sinners like everyone else just trying to figure out who God is what it looks like to pursue him.

We have been hurt by the church, as I’m sure many of you that are reading this have, but Jesus commanded us to love his people, so here we are.

We are all coming out of a time of healing and, for the first time in my life, are ALL in a period of transition.

Take care of my parents, they probably already love you more than you know.

Thanks for loving us.






I know this blog has been pretty different from my usual rambling on,

I try to end every blog with a more practical challenge to kind of explain the purpose of writing it,

But the truth is that this blog was primarily written for fairly selfish reasons,

I wanted to give a better look into my family for some of you guys

And I also promised when I started this thing that I would write about my real life and what this journey REALLY looks like and feels like for me,

but I also wrote it because it was really therapeutic for me personally.


I guess the only real application from all of this is that most humans know a pastor or minister’s family,

They’re real people,

With real feelings,

And most of the time they have some really real issues.


Pray for your church leaders,

and choose to love the church not because it’s fun, but because Jesus takes His bride seriously.



I can not promise that I will be able to say the specific location that we are planning on moving,

Just know that C and I are currently (like literally tomorrow) having some pretty crazy meetings that could ultimately determine where we go and for how long.


So please be praying for wisdom as we try to discern where the Lord wants us for this next season of our lives.


To The Ends of The Earth



When I answered the call to international work I knew God was calling me to share the journey and to ask as many people as I could possibly contact to be a part of it and to take this journey with me.

When I started all of this I made a promise to the Lord, you guys, and to myself that I would be transparent and honest about my walk and about the many adventures the Lord would take me on.

That includes the victories and the failures.

And that, my friends, is the only reason I have dragged myself to my computer and opened up my blog once again.

The Lord has a really cool track record of throwing me all over the world and speaking to me, this summer was no different.

My summer in a short list looked like this:

The Dominican Republic,




Panama City,














Two weeks ago today I was on the long journey back from Africa.

I finished unpacking my bags from the summer just a few hours ago.

Right now I am sitting on my bed listening to kids in my living room and outside, playing and yelling in many different languages.

Today I am reminded that at this moment, this little refugee community in Nashville is home,

and not only have I been able to go to the nations this summer,

but the Lord has brought them to me.

God, in His word, makes some promises.

He has promised to give us eternal life in Christ, if we follow Him.

He has promised to love us.

He has promised us that He is working all things together for our good.

He has promised us that He has overcome the world.

One thing that God does not promise us is closure on this earth.

The Lord never said, “do what I tell you and I will explain it all”.

He simply says “follow me”.

Today I am thankful for closure that I don’t deserve.

Around six years ago I sat in a Sunday school room in Birmingham Alabama and heard about Swaziland, Africa for the first time.

Through a long series of crazy “God moments” a few months later I ended up on a plane headed to Africa to go serve alongside of some of the people in that team meeting.

While I was on that trip God began to move my heart towards international work.

In my short twenty years of life I have had three major seasons of life and they consisted of three different places I called home.

I grew up in Alabama.

While I was there my Dad pastored a church.

This is the church God used to call me to international work, and these are the people I started going to Africa with.

The next season probably began when I was a senior and my parents moved me to Louisville Kentucky. Dad was called to another church.

The Lord was teaching me to love my family and to let go of being a child.

Two weeks after I graduated High school I moved to Africa for a year.

Many of you took this journey with me through this blog, and lots of prayer.

I can not even begin to explain everything God taught me there but I can say with full confidence that God taught me to love in the dirt in Africa.

If you would have told fourteen year old me that was sitting in that Sunday school room so many years ago that I would eventually lead a trip just like the one I was hearing about, to Swaziland


I would have called you crazy,

But that is exactly what happened almost a month ago.

This was not just any trip.

There were four people from Dad’s old church in Alabama (season one).

Over twenty people from the Church Dad used to pastor in Louisville (season two).

And we all packed our bags and went to Swaziland (season three) on August second.

Since I moved back to America there have been many tears shed about leaving Africa.

(and I would be lying to you if I told you that I am dry eyed as I am typing)

Over this past year I have had far more questions than answers.

I have been far more confused than assured.

And I have felt lost much more than found.

As I sat on the long flight to Africa wondering how in the world I even managed to get on that long flight again,

I asked the Lord why He was even bringing me to Swaziland again and how in the world so many different parts of my life were on that flight with me,

I knew then God was preparing my heart for closure.

It was almost as if He was saying, “You have ten days, it’s now or never”

Even now I can’t help but weep over the reality that when I first stepped foot on African soil I was just a rebellious kid in Africa without her parents at fourteen trying to figure out what this word even was

and where I belonged in it.

A few weeks ago I played in that same dirt, with some kids I have literally been able to see grow up,

And who, in some ways, have watched me grow up.

This time, with a fiancé,

with a passion for the nations,

and a peace,

knowing that I am a slave to righteousness

Knowing that following, and sometimes following blindly,

Is not just a phase but it is the call Christ has on my life.


But so long as I am here I can rest assured that the Master I am following knows what He is doing


On one of the days I recently spent in Swaziland I was able to see some of the kids (who aren’t really kids anymore)

that I have known for years.

Many of them speak English now.

I wish you guys could have seen their faces when I told them I was getting married.

One of them insisted they get to cut the cake!

They were all laughing thinking about dancing at my wedding.

While the laughs came to an end one girl in particular became very serious and told me while I will have many people in person at my wedding,

she wanted me to remember that hundreds of my Swazi friends will be there in spirit.

All she asked is that I remember them on that day and remember that they wanted to be there.

While every one of these seasons on my life have been awesome.

They have all come with their own challenges.

There are days where I ask the Lord if any of this even matters.

There are days that I seriously feel like I have accumulated more losses than wins in my twenty years in life.

There are days I want to quit and get a real job so at least I will have steady income.

There are days that I want to discourage people from considering international work full time or from even going on short term trips because going means loving and loving is not always pretty.

Loving people hurts.

But, my fellow misfits,

A few weeks ago I was sitting in the dirt in Africa,

With some kids that have watched me grow up,

With some young women and international workers that have chosen to love me,

And while loving hurts sometimes, God has taught me sooo much from it.


He does it because He loves us,

Even in our fourteen year old brokenness.

I often tell people I don’t have a big enough imagination to have led me to where I am today.

I am so thankful for a God that brings broken people to the ends of the earth for His glory.

When I left Africa a few days ago I knew God was ending a beautiful chapter in my life.

Today I am thankful for closure,

But I am even more thankful for what God is about to do.

I don’t know where you are.

But today I want to challenge you to be thankful for your season.

I want to challenge you to be thankful for the struggle, God is molding you.

I want to challenge you to GO.

I want to challenge you to love even when it hurts.

I want to challenge you to rest assured that God knows what He is doing even when we don’t.

And I want to challenge you to thank God even now for what He will do in the seasons to come.

As for me,

I have a wedding to plan!


None of this would be possible without you guys.

While this summer has been crazy, I know that I have not been traveling alone because so many of you guys’ thoughts and prayers are with me.

Thank you again for everything.

I am looking forward to many seasons to come with you guys by my side.

To The Ends of The Earth



The ocean freaks me out.

Ever since I was a kid I have been amazed and in awe of its beauty as well as completely terrified of it’s depth and ability to destroy.

Not to mention all of the life and mystery it holds.

Last week I helped lead a trip to the Dominican Republic.

The DR shares an island with Haiti.




Our hotel was right off the coast of the Caribbean Sea.


This was our view from the hotel.

All week long I felt like God was trying to give me a lesson in just how creative and massive He really is.

I spent a lot of time thinking about the ocean…

The depths of the sea gives me chills, the same shores that we put our feet in and play in are part of the same body of water that has depths that are not reachable by humans

The deepest depths of the ocean would literally crush us.

There are creatures down there that humans don’t even know about.

Just imagining the deafening silence and darkness in dark trenches of the ocean is cringe-worthy.

If you are around an ocean it is impossible to miss.

The salt water has a certain smell.

The air has a certain humid weight,

There is not a sound in existence that is as recognizable as waves crashing… the sound of a body of water so large it consumes the horizon, coming to an end, right at your feet on a sandy beach or on silent rocks. What a strange and beautiful end to such a gargantuan creation.

The reality that the God and Creator of the ocean is the same Creator and Lover of little-flawed-me is hard for me to wrap my mind around, and was especially hard last week when on that beautiful island.

On one of the nights I was in the DR last week, I sat down under this straw-hut-looking-pavilion-thing with a fellow worker to have what she would definitely call a “life talk”.

It was the time of night where it was really dark.

The moon was hanging just above the horizon and the sky was so cloudy you almost couldn’t see it.

Under this pavilion in the daylight, you can see a clear picture of where the lush Dominican mountains meet the ocean, you can see the shore and it is really really loud.

But this particular night, you couldn’t even see the light of the moon reflecting off of the water.

I knew the ocean was there.

It was undeniably the most obvious thing about that night,

I could hear the loud waves hitting the shore,

I could smell the salt,

I could feel the humidity,

But I only knew the general direction of the massive ocean,

If you gave me a rock I don’t know that I could’ve even hit the shore.

This was one of the most confusing experiences of my life.


I just couldn’t see it!

In my frustration with the moon not doing its job,

I began to see precisely what I needed…

The past year of my life has definitely been the most confusing time of my entire life.

I know God called me to Nashville,

I know He has me where I need to be,

I know I’m where He wants me…

But if you gave me a rock, I could only throw it in His general direction.

It is just so hard to SEE.

90 percent of the time I feel mostly alone or out of my mind.

Like every other day I am asking God what the heck He is doing.


I can “smell the salt”…

I promised you guys when I started this journey that I would be transparent and honest in keeping you guys updated on what God is doing in my life and in the communities where He has me serving.

But I almost never know what I am doing.


But I know He is here.

Life is crazy right now…

This summer alone I am going to have traveled to three countries.

I just got back from the Dominican Republic.

I am going to be spending the month of July in Guatemala.

A few days after I get back from Guatemala I am leading a trip to Swaziland, Africa.

And as soon as I get back from Africa I come back home to Nashville where I will be continuing to serve the refugees in my community.

That’s not even beginning to mention all of the random trips all over the states this summer in between my country hopping.


I have NO idea what I am doing.

I seriously can’t help but laugh when I try to explain my life to other people.

I sound like a lunatic.

I feel like God has the wrong chick.

I feel like I am continuously telling Him I am not cut out for a life as beautiful and adventurous and stressful and heart wrenching.

But I can smell the salt.

I know He is here.

And I know He has a crazy record of using broken people.

The same God that dug the depths of the ocean called my name, I am done telling Him He has got the wrong girl.

Who cares if I could hit him with a rock…

Even if He showed Himself to me in broad daylight the truth is, I have bad aim anyway.

I have completely lost my mind,

But I know He wants to use me.

I know His very identity is love.

And I know this summer is His.

While I had originally planned to write this to tell you guys about all of the awesome things God is allowing me to do over the summer over seas as well as in Nashville, I know to act like I have this awesome calendar of travels would be a lie.

International work is scary and crazy.

I am constantly falling apart.


I want to encourage you guys that the God that created the massive ocean,

The God that literally placed the earth precisely where it needed to be in order to maintain life,

The same God is totally obsessed with you and has the most ridiculous, scary, incredible plan for your life.

I am so relieved that we don’t have to know the depths of the ocean or even be able to see the shore, He does.

The ocean totally freaks me out.

To The Ends of The Earth





Four years ago if you were to ask me how I felt about the church I would’ve probably told you that I hate it.

I am a pastor’s kid.

Growing up I felt like there were always around a zillion people in my house.

There were constantly people who wanted my parent’s attention.

I literally had to wait in line to talk to my dad after he preached on Sundays.

My dad could never go to my dance competitions on Sundays.

My mom was everyone’s counselor.

I felt like I had to be at every church function in the history of everdom.

And people had really unrealistic expectations of me.

If I were being honest I would tell you that I felt like the church took my parents away from me, and even worse, I felt like the church didn’t even appreciate them or their time.

I saw the good the bad and the ugly.

And for a very long time I felt like it was mostly the latter two.

I didn’t like the church and I definitely didn’t trust them.

Let me take a second to stop and say I have the best parents in the entire universe… like I really do honestly believe that.

My dad is a fantastic pastor and an even better dad, so much so that it is literally hard for me to understand how my heavenly Father can love me more than my earthly parents do. That kind of love hurts my head to even think about.

My mom is the most supportive, beautiful, and down-to-earth human I know, and I seriously pray that I can be half the mom she is one day.

The problem wasn’t really my parents or even the church.

The problem was me.

I was so quick to jump on the “everyone in the church is a hypocrite” bandwagon that I didn’t even understand that broken and messed up people were the only reason the church even exists.

So let me just give a big “duh…” to people who feel like the church is full of people that show up to church on Sundays and have their lives a wreck.

I fully understand that the church also has people that are totally fake and act like they have it all together, but believe it or not, Christ died for them too.


But that’s what ultimately unifies the church, right?

We all NEED Christ.

In Mark chapter two, verse seventeen Jesus says,

“It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”

If I could speak to my younger self I would tell her something like this…

“Wake up. Of course the people in the church are messed up, it is full of humans, and every one of us needs Christ, whether you like it or not. The church was designed for the broken. YOU ARE JUST AS BROKEN. You need Christ just as much as everyone else. Start to look at these broken people as a blessing, listen to them when they try to help you not make the same mistakes. Stop getting mad when these people come into your house. Shut up and listen. YOUR PARENTS AREN’T IDIOTS. They are some of the most Christ-like humans you will ever meet, they have dedicated their lives to acknowledging that they are broken, and taking what God has taught them in their brokenness to teach other people and allow God to speak through them. The church was never supposed to be perfect, love them anyway and allow others to love you. The only thing you have in common with most of these people is Christ, and that is enough when you are finding your identity in Him. People in the church are going to hurt you and your family, get used to it. Learn to forgive as Christ forgave… and stop wearing so much eyeliner, you look ridiculous.”

Recently, God has been teaching me a lesson in loving the church.

When I got to Nashville I was not in a hurry to get involved In a church anywhere, but over the past few months I have been overwhelmed by all that God is teaching me about how much He loves the church and how important it is that we realize who exactly the church is for, and more importantly who it is made of.

I’m relearning what loving the church means, and if you have church-trust issues like me, I want to encourage you to really pray through what the Bible says about the purpose of the church.

Please do not let stereotypical-church-problems keep you from what God might be trying to teach you through a body of other broken people trying to figure this thing out with you,

Sooner or later the body of Christ has to start getting honest with each other and learn how to love the broken together,








To The Ends of The Earth



Sometimes love sucks.

I know everyone has different seasons of their life… and for whatever reason for the past month, trying to be loving has been much harder than usual.

There are a few events in particular that I believe have been teaching me hard lessons about love recently:

The first one started with me walking into a gas station a few weeks ago.

As I approached the counter there was a really loud and obnoxious argument happening between a woman and the employee behind the register…

She was arguing loudly with him over some discount that resulted in what I understood to be a TEN CENT difference. I’m fully aware that this stuff happens when you work with people,

and the lady might’ve been having a bad day,

BUT it wasn’t the argument that annoyed me most about this situation…

It was the fact that written in large bold letters on her hot pink baseball cap was the name “JESUS” followed by a Bible verse.

The second one happened almost a month ago. I was invited to a worship service at a church by some people who were playing worship music outside close to the place I work.

I was told that the service would be worship music only, and that no one was going to preach;

it was going to be a bunch of young people singing and playing instruments, worshipping loudly and freely…

Sounds awesome right?!

Well after worship a guy came to the front with a large white board (which always makes me nervous) and was preparing to give a message.

I will spare you the gory details but between the

“Beyonce is possessed!”

“don’t hang out with sinners!”

“If you watch pg13 movies you are going to hell!”


“I had to repent for even READING a description of The Walking Dead”

I wanted to throw his white board in a wood chipper.

God’s very existence is love.

Jesus’ entire message was love.

In both of these instances I couldn’t help but want to shake these people and yell “BUT WHAT ABOUT LOVE”

Unfortunately because of these experiences recently, and a few other things I won’t mention, I have grown really bitter and annoyed with people…

Which is pretty ridiculous because the very thing I’m getting angry with them for doing I am beginning to do myself.

I started to feel like Jonah when he was pretty much throwing a temper tantrum screaming to the heavens “But God, these people suck!”

Such a loving thing to do… right? **sarcastic voice **

A few days ago I was sitting in my living room looking at my bookshelf, and I was reminded of a Bible lesson I taught the refugee kids in my community around a month err so ago.

The lesson was about the Tower of Babel.

I used the game Jenga as an illustration for the story,

But before we played the game I looked around at all of the different cultures and languages represented in the room and got a few of the kids to write their languages on the blocks.

After they got done writing down all the languages we played the game…

Like every other game of Jenga…

at the end

the tower falls.

After the tower fell and all the kids screamed and giggled, the languages were scattered on the floor.

As the Jenga blocks were all over the floor

I looked at the blocks that were covered in messy handwriting representing all the different people groups and nations in that room,

And I felt like God said to me “look at all of those I love”.

Although that seemed obvious at the time,

I now know what He meant,

and that He knew that I would be sitting on my couch, just a few nights ago, finally ready to listen to what He is trying to say.

I have such a small understanding of people,

I am not capable of seeing into the ugliest part of our souls, but God knows us, EVERY part of all of us,

literally every people group that those blocks represented and more, and still loves them unconditionally and all I am capable of trying to do is love the people He has put in my path, even if they are wrong,

and I struggle arrogantly to even do that.

I am constantly blown away by Gods love, even if it means teaching me a lesson via Jenga.

This life is so short, guys.

We are so limited on our own.

But Christ’s love is big enough to cover this globe, this universe, and more.

We are asked to join in this journey of love, whether it is to the ends of the earth, or in our local gas station, and I’m pretty stoked about it,


Thanks sooooo much to all of you guys that are keeping up with what is happening here in Nashville

I wouldn’t be able to be here without all of the prayer and support.



To the Ends of The Earth



I took Sunday-school for granted.

That’s right, I said it mom and dad…

Being a pastor’s kid I grew up going to Sunday school every Sunday.

And when I say every Sunday I mean E V E R Y Sunday.

Literally unless my limbs were falling off my parents would drag me into Sunday school whether I was kicking and screaming or not.

I knew all the stories…

Jonah got swallowed by the big fish because he was being a punk.

God told the lions to be friends with Daniel.

Adam and Eve just haaaad to eat the fruit and listen to the snake.

Noah was quite the sailor… etc. etc. etc.

And if I were being honest, after the 20th time hearing these stories, I was bored by them.

I thought it was understood that everyone knew them.

Obviously as a somewhat-adult, I now know that a large portion of the planet doesn’t know these stories… But I don’t know that this became very real to me until last night.

Every Tuesday night we open our doors to the refugee kids in our community and invite them over to sing some worship songs and listen to a Bible story.

Last night our story was about Noah and the ark.

I wish you guys could’ve seen the faces on the kids when my roommate explained the insane series of events that happened to Noah,

From all the animals getting onto a huge boat, to explaining to them what it would look like for God to flood the entire planet.

One of the kids pointed to the globe we have in our living room and asked if the entire thing would be blue, (I was super impressed by that visual)

Once we got to the end of the story and explained that God sent a rainbow as a promise, and that the world was eventually green again they seemed relieved to hear that God has kept His promises, not just the one about the flood, but all of them.

…as the night came to a close I realized a few things.

First, I was so thankful that I got to experience some of the kids hearing this story for the first time.

Second, I was thankful that some of the kids had heard the story before.

And third, that there was still something to learn from this story, even though a younger me would swear that it was the same every time I heard it.

Which brings me to my past week…

I got home from a short trip to Alabama last week to my apartment being, for lack of a better word, broken.

My AC was out, my hot water was out, and my sink was broken.

Not to mention, I was finishing up a few classes in school, work has been hard lately, and every time I turn around it feels like I am either hearing about a bill or actually receiving one…

But I think my breaking point was a few nights ago when I felt like my head was about to explode so I, naturally, decided to eat some hummus… and as I grabbed the bag of pita chips out of my pantry it occurred to me that mice had broken into my brand new unopened bag of pita chips and eaten them.

As I sat on my kitchen floor with my crumpled up and mutilated bag of pita chips, I knew I was coming to the end of my rope.


I am memorizing some of Luke 12.

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat, not about your body, what you will put on.

For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing.

Consider the ravens, they neither sow not reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them.

Of how much more value are you than the birds!

And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?

If then you are not able to do as small a thing as that, why are you anxious about the rest?

Consider the lilies, how they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass, which is alive in the field today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, o you of little faith!

Do not seek what you are to eat and what you are to drink, nor be worried.

For all the nations of the world seek after these, and your Father knows that you need them.

Instead, seek His kingdom, and these things will be added to you. “

(be careful what you memorize from God word… He’s likely to teach you something)

Everyone has days were the “mice eat your pita chips”.

But God is still good.

He is the same today, as he was when he painted the first rainbow in the sky.

He has promised to be with us, even when our apartment is broken,

And he keeps his promises… Just ask Noah.

Thanks for dealing with my scatterbrained thoughts,

Thanks to you guys that are supporting me through this journey.

To the Ends of the Earth



“I know you called me to the nations, so why are you bringing me to Nashville Tennessee, I DON’T EVEN LIKE COUNTRY MUSIC.”

That was pretty much my exact prayer when I found out that I would be starting this new journey in Nashville.

I knew that was what God wanted,

But I have a “why?!” problem when it comes to taking direct orders from



As I drove into my apartment complex, my new home,

I was overwhelmed by all the beautiful,

and different,


Kurdish, Syrian, and Burmese kids were all playing outside.

A few hours later I got a knock on my door and opened it to find a beautiful Sudanese woman staring back at me welcoming me in what sounded like the most beautiful African accent I’ve ever heard…

As I layed my head down for the first night in my new home I began to weep…

I had been so hesitant and almost irritated because God called me out of Swaziland to a refugee community in the country music capital of the world.

I was just so sure that God called me to international work.

I though for sure I was going to be living out of a suitcase and plane hopping for the rest of my life… or at least be somewhere with a different language.

(I am so dumb when it comes to planning my own life.)

So there I was, laying in my bed journaling, when it occurred to me that I was doing what God has called me to do,

I was reaching the nations.

They are just at my  f r o n t   d o o r

Christ brought the nations



Tuesday night we had out first “outreach night” in my apartment complex.

It consisted of endless games of tag and soccer with some of the most beautiful kids I have ever met, from all over the globe.

The night ended with singing, praying, and of course…

Popsicles (:

No, I’m not thousands of miles away from America,

No I am not living in a hut (this time)

No I am not getting my passport stamped,

But this what ”international work” looks like for me today.

This is what my going “to the ends of the earth” looks like right now.

What’s yours?

We see such a small picture of God’s giant plan.

I’m so glad He holds my schedule even on the days where I don’t necessarily trust Him with it…

Country music and all.


To The Ends of the Earth