Rhythms of Grace

Let's risk the ocean, there's only grace. 
What would our lives be like if we constantly depended solely on grace? What would MY life be like?
What if I wholeheartedly let the hands that cradle the stars hold me too?


It's been two days since we've been back from the Amazon and I've yet to process everything that went on in my mind and heart. Yet, I know His grace stands.


He died for me. How I wish I had the words to express what I feel when I think of His death on the cross for us all. No words would suffice. My thoughts are filled with the fact that there is nothing I can do but hold on to the love that led him to the cross; The love that led him to carry my every burden.
My only choice is to fall on my knees in awe of his glory and love.
A story of love hung on a tree, and even through the pain and heartbreak Jesus dealt with, He still shows that we were worth every nail.
And I hurt.
I hurt because it was my sin that pierced the hands that hold the universe.
I hurt because I know my sin will crucify him once more.
During this time, I've come to realize that my happiness if found in less of me and more of Him.
As He was crucified and buried, I am to do the same thing.
Christianity --I see as time goes by-- is a call to death.
And my eyes are open to a simple yet extremely complex fact: nails didn't hold Jesus to the cross. Love did. 


I must raise a knife to the things I love most and even then, I must raise it to my own life, so it may be Christ living in me instead.
Sunday is soon approaching, and with that, light comes. Light within a tomb. Light in spite of death. With the light came life. And just as darkness was overwhelmed, now the decay of death was reversed. Heavenly breezes blow across the Earth and Jesus breathes. His lungs expand and contract. His dried lips open. Stiff joints begin to move once again. His heart pumps full of blood and life...it pumps love for all his creation; for every single one of us.
And as we take time to envision the moment, we fall in awe.
We fall in awe of what has happened and what we now have come to know.
We know...I know that death will never have the last word again.
And with this, I sigh, and die.
Christ comes alive in me and I am no longer myself, but more of Christ.
And we begin to move along with the rhythms of grace.
The waves of grace that lead me to the love and forgiveness displayed on the cross.
Ocean of grace...it has no shore.
There is no limits when it comes to grace.
It comes like an avalanche seeking to give life through death.
And even if the death that we must go through...may it be well with our souls. 


May this event, this life-changing and heart-consuming event, stir our affections for Jesus.
May we look upon the cross, while our own hangs over our shoulder, and see the hope that was so willingly displayed on a tree.

Breaking the Silence

(This isn't exactly about the trip per se)

Mosquitos. Heat.Jungle. A desire to break the silence in the corner of Colombia. The silence was broken there this week, and so was the silence in my own heart.

I found myself in Leticia again after almost a full year of being away. The joy that I thought would fill my heart when I stepped out of the plane was not the what filled my heart. Instead, I was overwhelmed with pain. I hurt for the place that I've come to love so much over the last 3 years. I hurt because they hurt. And then it hit me like a ton of bricks and I could no longer breathe: this was possibly the last time I would see their faces and their smiles for the next 4-5 years. 

As I hugged Monica (YWAM coordinator), I remembered the beauty that my eyes had been opened to 3 years ago and meagerly tried to embrace it. But I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to embrace it like I once did because I knew that this was my last chance to do so. I didn't want to be vulnerable in a place where I couldn't help but be just that a year ago. 

As hours flew by and familiar faces blurred my vision, we walked to the orphanage (Aljaba). And there we were...surrounded by a significantly few familiar faces and an overwhelming number of new faces. I felt...new. I felt like I was starting from scratch again, in a place where I lived for a month and a half 2 summers ago. This was the beginning of many doubts: did I make an kind of significant impact while I was here? Can the love that I showed be so easily forgotten? And as many other thoughts began to place themselves in my mind, my heart was telling me otherwise. It WASN'T about the love that I showed...it was about God did while I was there. It wasn't about whether or not what I did and who I am will be easily forgotten by the children that I poured my heart out for, it was about what their Heavenly Father did for them and how much of Himself He gave for them. It wasn't about me at all. Talk about a crazy mind vs. heart battle. Saying goodbye to the kids so we could head back to the YWAM base for a night out, I realized that when that door would close behind me, even if I wasn't going to be there...the Lord shall be forever working and molding their lives (we weren't able to see the kids the next day since most of them had gone home for some time and the ones that were there were in the middle of a complex activity that couldn't be interrupted).

Certain parts of the trip are kind of a blur. When I stop and think about what we did everyday, the movie that plays in my head skips scenes, almost as if I was there without really being there. Now I see, as much as I strongly dislike to accept it, I regret  (for a lack of a better word) the fact that I shut myself out from connecting to the place that the Lord used so explicitly in my growth in Him. Baaah. I do not like what I'm about to write at all, but I disconnected myself from HIM. And I felt it. I knew that I was just..walking, breathing, and even laughing and crying without really living. Even so, my chest was burning and heaving. It was like my pulse was ceasing, like my heart had quit beating. I was disgusted with how easily I can disconnect myself from the people that surround me. I suddenly felt my heart being gripped by the fear that I wasn't allowing myself to feel...one of the things that I prayed about the most before the trip. Yet, that's exactly what I was doing. I wasn't allowing myself to feel because I knew that I'd break if I did. 

I closed my eyes for a second (a second during which Andrew and I played some worship music while being on the boat, had different conversations, composed random songs, laughed, sat in silence) and all of the sudden, we were entering Zaragoza. Seeing the river cover the field where different games were played with all the kids a year back was a reminder of the pain that my brothers and sisters were feeling. You see, the Amazon River was the highest it had ever been in the last 55 years. This caused different diseases to develop, including malaria, which is one that they never had to deal with in that part of the jungle before. Families were dying because of it. Pain and tears took hold of my heart and then a dark voice filled my ears"Don't feel, Diana." And so I didn't. 

After unpacking everything and setting up the tents, I made my way to the kitchen to help make dinner. How I missed cooking over fire, having to fan the wood every now and then, having my eyes water from the insane amount of smoke that filled the air and memories from last summer and the beauty I saw flooded back. Once again, a reminder to not be open took hold of my mind and I shut down. I was like a fanning machine that only worried about if the pasta needed more salt or not. As Leyder, one of the kids from the village, constantly asked to help with something in the kitchen, I began to see -- once again-- the heart of the Father for his children. At that moment, I knew that I had to push aside any doubt, any fear, and anything else that could hold me back from feeling and allow the Lord to use me. Coming to that conclusion was a lot easier that actually doing something about it. Thinking all my good deeds could please the Father. Boy, was I wrong. I knew I wasn't doing anything. I wasn't doing anything even though MY INTENTION WAS TO DO EVERYTHING. I was warring with God as His question suddenly echoed in my heart: "What have you done for me?" We made our way across the river to Peru (Puerto Alegre) and the atmosphere completely changed. I became instantly exhausted and I was still sitting on the boat. During the time that we were there for the medical brigade I could do nothing and think nothing. I just prayed. I prayed even though I had shut down. I prayed that the darkness that filled that place would one day be pierced by God's transforming love. I hoped it would. And that was all I could do. 

(Maybe I hadn't shut down completely completely)

Mosquitoes no longer bothered me. The heat was something that I no longer found unbearable. Walking around the village alone in the rain (yes, I know I shouldn't have been doing that), I came face to face with the most horrible creature I had ever seen:myself. I saw how...blaaaaah, I actually am. I saw the pride that had made its home in my heart, I saw all my insecurities, flaws, and failures. Yet this I recalled to mind and therefore I have hope:You died, Lord. Nothing and no one else could make my mistakes beautiful. No one could give me the kind of opportunity that my Father gave me at that very moment. It wasn't about being open with those around me...it was about being open with HIM before all. So as the raindrops hid my tears, everything I am made itself visible to God at that very moment and I KNEW, that I would never go back. 

My smiles became genuine, my heart was lighter, and as I the children during the last night service we had jump up and down and sing, there was no doubt in my mind that one day, they'll be making a way for a beautiful collision to take place in the place that they call home. 

We packed up the next day and made our way to 2 de Mayo. Once again, the strumming and picking of guitar strings filled the air as pink dolphins jumped in and out of the water and as prayers were said and whispered to the ears of the One who always listens. The river, as I mentioned earlier, was the highest it had ever been. The water was up to the pastor's house in 2 de Mayo (it even began to flood it). People moved around in their canoes and kids splashed and swam in the water. Some of the guys instantly jumped in with them and in a matter of minutes (after people were placed in different homes and tents were set up) most of the team was in the water playing with the kids as well. The atmosphere here is absolutely different. You feel love and see light in almost everyone in the village. The pastor is a great man of faith and one who is willing to serve no matter the cost. You see the growth and transformation different lives have been through and you can't help but be reminded of God's faithfulness. He never fails. He always loves. And He molds that lives that are willing to be changed. My prayer for this village is that they will one day rise up and shine their light among the villages that are around them and even the furthest ones from them. 

In the midst of the silence the night before we left, a proclamation was made louder than the loudest temptation: God is more than enough. The power that I can experience is the same one that rose Him from the dead, meaning I could be raised from the death that I placed myself in during the beginning of the trip. Voices. Joyful voices proclaimed the glory of the Lord after watching Courageous, a movie showing the beauty that a family can hold when centered on the cross of Christ. Joyful voices in 3 different languages called out to the One that defeated death. Joyful voices, as sure as the coming of the dawn, praised the Father's love song that drowned out all our bitter songs; a song swooped in to break the walls and barriers as is came to pick up His bride and woe her once more. A song that broke the silence that has overwhelmed this broken shell of a world and my heart for the first days on this trip. 

Suddenly, you hear a great slam. 

The great battle was won.
It is done. 

The silence has been broken.
My heart has been molded.

It has been filled with something that I still can't come to describe. 

It was done with more beauty that words could portray.
What was done was more eternal than eternity itself.
More angelic the the angels in the heavens. 
It was done for me.
It was done for the people of 2 de Mayo, Puerto Alegre, and Zaragoza.

I had no choice but to accept it.
Rejoice along with the joyful voices around me, breaking the silence along with them.

Freedom came.

I felt.

My heart broke and I felt again. I felt the sadness of not coming back, and at the same time, the joy of being there once again.
And as goodbyes were said and hugs were given; as the plane took off and I found myself no longer in Leticia; I knew that the silence was broken for good for freedom beyond the imaginable had come. 

The souls of the team that went were commissioned with an uncontrollable fire to save the lost. 

Our eyes were opened to the reason why we are alive.
We followed God together. 

He opened the heavens and poured out more of Himself on the villages we visited and our own lives. 
I pray that the fire that is now burning in us does not go out with a simple breeze. 

Shall we forever sing of His love and allow our lives to be a song that breaks the silence, even in the deepest and darkest corners of the world.

He revealed his heart to me and I pray that my heart with continues to beat just as His does.