birthing the new

This Christmas, I've been thinking a lot about Mary's side of the story.  This Christmas, my heart has resonated with this woman who chose to say "yes" to God's calling on her life.

Usually when I think of Mary, I reflect on God's interruption in her life.  I think of how she was probably trembling in fear when she said "yes," knowing that she could have been stoned for being pregnant outside of wedlock, knowing that her side of the story must have sounded crazy to the people she told it to ("Mom and Dad, I'm pregnant by the Holy Spirit, really!"), knowing that she alone was responsible for carrying God in her belly (talk about the desire to suddenly eat healthy and get fit).

But this Christmas, I've been pondering what it means that she said "yes" to God and that He was birthed in her.

Christmas was a new beginning for Mary, a new beginning of motherhood, of marriage, and of this new ministry calling on her life.  Christmas was also the new beginning for humanity because Jesus, as the new Adam, created hope and justification where there was once separation and condemnation.

This Christmas, I've been pondering the new thing that Jesus wants to birth in me.

For nine months, Jesus grew in Mary.  For nine months, she was "that girl" who was pregnant outside of wedlock.  For nine months, she (probably) had morning sickness alongside of worries about caring for this infant who was the Word made flesh.  We sing the lyrics, "silent night, holy night," but I am sure that this night we sing so softly about was anything but silent for Mary, lest we forget that she was in labor without any pain meds, surrounded by livestock instead of doctors.

Mary birthed Jesus.  Think about those words.  "For to us a child is born."  We repeat that verse every year, but we forget what those words mean.  Birthing this child involved nine long months of waiting, a terrible night of delivery during which not one person was nice enough to let them into an actual home, and all of the sleepless nights of infancy that (especially first time) parents endure.

Birthing new things isn't always an overnight process and isn't always pain-free.  Birthing new things involves repeatedly saying "yes" to whatever it is that God is asking of you.

But a life of walking in step with the Spirit--wherever that may lead you--is an abundant life, full of joy and freedom and peace.  After Mary (immediately, might I add) agreed to God's will being done in her, she sang a song of praise to Him (Luke 1:46-55).  Though Mary's decisions to follow God weren't always easy, they resulted in her living a life of celebration and praise, having a joy that is only explained by being in a relationship with God.

God was inside of Mary for nine months and, if you are a believer, He is in you now.  I think there's something to that.  Just like God wanted a little baby to grow in a teenage girl, He wants to grow new things in you and me.  Mary said "yes" to God.  The question for us is: Will we?  The Christian walk and the responsibility that comes with listening to the Holy Spirit--a responsibility to not just hear but do what He's asking of you--though not always easy, is the path to true Life.

Christmas for Mary was pregnancy and delivery and the start of sleepless nights.  But Christmas was also when she grew in her intimacy with God and when she celebrated that He found her worthy of this call.  The birth of this child was not only a new beginning for these parents, but a new beginning for all of mankind.  Mary's decision effected many others, for generations to come.  Likewise, our decisions as believers effect more people than I think we sometimes realize.  We have the opportunity to not just grow as disciples of Christ, but to impact a dark world around us, simply by living a life of saying "yes" to God.

Let us live in Christmas, always.  Let us continuously say, "yes" to God's calling to birth new things in us, even if it hurts in the process, because the end result always leads us to deeper intimacy with Him and always forms us to be more like His Son.

The life He has for us is the best life.  We can converse with Him about dreams and plans and callings, but when it comes down to it we have to ask ourselves: What is my response?  Will I allow Him to birth new things in me?  Will I say "yes" to this task He has asked me to do?  Will I live a life of intimacy with Christ and listen and act on what He's calling me to do?

The abundant Life is in Him, just taste and see.

ministry partners

There is something about writing thank you cards to ministry partners that makes my heart melt.

With every new card, I am able to sit and reflect and pray.  I remember the ways that this person has taught me what it looks like to honor God with my money and time and what it looks like to pray for those around me.  Without knowing it, this person has discipled me when it comes to my own tithes and offerings and when it comes to my own intercession for others.  Usually when I'm writing these cards, moments come to mind of when they've prayed for me during a spiritual attack or given me advice and encouragement when I felt overwhelmed by being a missionary.  These names aren't donors or prayer warriors, they are partners, in every sense of that term.  I wouldn't be able to fight this spiritual battle without their prayers and I wouldn't be on campus without their financial support.  Their partnership plays a direct role in the transformation on campus.  As I think about all of the students who I've seen cross from darkness to light this year, all of the students who have grown in boldness in their leadership, all of the students who have broken strongholds, all of the students who are learning to recognize the voice of the Lord, I know that none of these significant Kingdom stories would happen without the support of these dear friends.

These friendships are some of the sweetest I'll ever know.  Some live in my town and some live literally in another country, but we are all doing ministry together.  We are all on this team, praying and giving time or money or energy to see The College of New Jersey transformed.  The reality of ministry partnership connects me with these friends at a much more intimate level than Facebook or Skype or texting ever could; we are connected in Kingdom work.

Whether they are monthly donors or one-time givers or prayerful intercessors or volunteers or a mix of those four, these friends are all my partners.  They are all on my team.

With every card, I reflect on the way that this person has impacted me and my walk and the way that this person has impacted the ministry at TCNJ.  I reflect on the campus stories that have happened as a result of this person's partnership.

And every few minutes, I pause to sing along with the worship songs that I have playing on Pandora in the background.  I sing praises to our God because it is He that ultimately draws all of these students to Himself.  It is He who is renewing the campus and developing world changers.  And it is He who has drawn me and these ministry partners together to have a heart for this campus.  I am grateful that He is moving in all of our lives.

And I am so grateful for each of these friends.

As I sign my name on each card, I pray over these friends, asking the Lord to bless each and every one of them, just like they've blessed me.

I'm not alone on this campus.  I have an army of friends on this team, fighting for me.  They love me and they've grown me in ways that they'll never even realize.

So I look forward to writing these cards because doing so gives me space to reflect.  My words to them will never be enough, they will never show the depths to which I am thankful, but they are something.  And I hope that with each "Thank you so much" they know what I am saying is, "Thank you for believing in me.  Thank you for fighting for me and interceding for me when I am too weak.  Thank you for reminding me of the vision when my heart feels burdened and overwhelmed.  Thank you for loving my students and eagerly asking for more stories of how they are growing.  Thank you for mourning over the lost and crying with joy over the redeemed.  I wish you could be there every day with me.  I wish you could be in the room when students pray to receive Jesus for the first time.  I wish you could be sitting at the table when freshmen jump up to invite random people in the student center to evangelistic events.  I wish you could be there when the leader I'm discipling turns to someone she barely knows who is crying and asks if she could pray for her.  I wish you could see His Kingdom coming to campus every day like I do, because you are just as much a part of this mission as I am.  You are just as much a part of this team.  You are impacting lives.  Students are graduating college with a renewed knowledge of who God is and with leadership abilities with which they will one day change the world.  Thank you because you played a part in this.  Thank you because you've opened doors and paved pathways to see transformation happen.  Thank you because you dream big with me for this campus and you help make those dreams become a reality."

I am grateful.  I am blessed.  And my heart is quite full.

To partner with this mission:
…you can join my team with financial support by visiting donate.intervarsity.org/support/Alyssa_Dembrowski
…you can join my team with prayer support by emailing alyssa.dembrowski@gmail.com
…any questions about partnering or to get together to hear more you can email alyssa.dembrowski@gmail.com

they inspire me

There is a stirring in my spirit when I see growth, a joy that overtakes me and causes me to want to jump up and down.  Both the green sprouts that come up out of the ground from newly planted seeds and the leaves that form on mature plants create excitement in me.  "Yes! His Kingdom come!" I want to shout.

It is a joy to walk alongside of so many people and watch as the Lord does a work in them.  Sometimes He uses me in their journey and sometimes I just get to sit back and watch these lives unfold before my very eyes.  But regardless of my involvement in their journey, I find my breath taken away as I am left in awe.  I become speechless from the stories, from the wisdom shared, from the love displayed, and from the acts that my friends step into right in front of me.

I love watching the newer believers in my life drink in the gospel every week, eyes wide and sparkling with the hope that the empty tomb offers.  They remind me that the basics of our faith--grace and new life and joy and love--are truly the most important part, that the resurrected King and His forgiveness and the power that His Spirit gives to all of His followers are more important than any of the nitty gritty pieces of theology I often find myself pondering.  They remind me that I need to constantly live out of the gospel and out of the transformative work of Jesus.  I love watching these sisters and brothers grasp biblical concepts for the first time and step into freedom from strongholds for the first time and engage in listening prayer for the first time.

And truly, nothing is more wonderful than watching my friends who have been walking with the Lord for decades get wow-ed by the Gospel all over again.  I love to hear their stories of stepping out in boldness, to watch as these strong men and women of God lovingly encourage the rest of us to have a missional-mindset, to be in the room as they welcome and love new-comers so well.

I count myself blessed to be invited into the lives of so many who exemplify the on-going work of the Spirit.  Their growth inspires me.  It reminds me to never stop living out of the beauty of the Gospel.  It encourages me to press deeper into the Life that He offers.

Thank you, friends, for opening up your hearts and sharing your lives with me.  Thank you for allowing God to continuously transform you.  Thank you for having a heartbeat that echoes the Kingdom of God.

Immanuel

I sat curled in a ball, weeping into a blanket, crying over the same thing that always gets to me.

After a conversation earlier in the day, I spent my afternoon in meetings, half of me present and half of me feeling like I could burst into tears any second.  6pm and the door to my house couldn't come fast enough.  And when I finally walked in that backdoor at the end of the day and made my way up into my room, I couldn't contain myself any longer as I collapsed on my bed, sobbing.

That was where I sat for an hour, blanket wet from tears by the time my eyes were dry, body shaking uncontrollably as if I had a fever.  I was one gross and snotty mess, "waterproof" mascara down my face, hair literally drenched with tears, my nose blocked up thanks to my inconvenient nose ring.  I wept so hard that I went to bed four hours earlier than my usual bedtime, body weak and head aching from the sadness.

I slept nine long hours and woke up well before dawn, surprised at how alert and content I was feeling. I made my way downstairs, brewed some coffee, and began to read Scripture like I always do.  During my morning quiet time, I realized that the night before I had spent that hour crying out to God.

That, for me, is different.
That, for me, is progress.

In between "I'm sorry's" and in between moments of long silences when all anyone would have been able to hear were my sobs, I must have said "Jesus" a hundred times.  Sometimes I found myself stating the obvious ("I'm just so sad") and sometimes I muttered out a few complete sentences to Him ("Let me just feel Your presence & let me just know You are here & teach me how to forgive myself"), but when no other words came, I just continued to say His name, sometimes adding a soft "please" at the end.  And always, I invited Him into the room.

It was honest and authentic and raw.  It wasn't an hour of eloquent prayer and it wasn't a time when I necessarily experienced any crazy supernatural encounters.  It was just me and my tears and my blanket and my God.  The room was still and the pain was real, but something was different.  I didn't feel the presence of God in some overwhelming fashion and I didn't feel any less sad and in that moment, if you had asked me, I probably would have said that I didn't feel any less alone.  But I realized in the morning that He had indeed been in the room, that I went from my typical place of sitting alone with my regret to inviting Jesus into it.

I realized that while I went to bed physically tired from crying and still sad and still hurting and my situation still very much the same in the morning, Jesus had been right there in the thick of it.  Because I invited Him in, because I cried out to Him, because I took the focus away from the pain of the situation and put it back on Him, I no longer felt debilitated by my sadness.

Immanuel, God with us.

And He is always with us.  He had always been there when I cried, I just had never chosen to engage Him before.  I would push Him away, too hurt and angry and ashamed and lost in my thoughts to know what it was I even wanted from Him.

But now I do:  His presence.

He is good.  He is faithful.  He is everything I need.  And as long as I remain in Him, no situation will ever been too over-bearing for this little heart of mine.

For this is what the LORD says…

"As a mother comforts her child,

so I will comfort you."

[Isaiah 66]

selah moments

I think that I've told this story a million times in a million different contexts, but it was so impacting to me that I must tell it again…

August, September, and October were going to be far busier than usual for our staff team at TCNJ.  And when October began approaching and I was a bit drained from the previous two months, the realization that the usual October lull wasn't going to come hit me.  Somewhere at the end of September, I turned to Robin and said, "Oh man. I just need to get through October. November can't come soon enough."

"Alyssa," She responded, "Life doesn't start in November.  Life is now."

This reminded me much of what Jesus said to me when I was in the Catskills for a few retreat days before NSO began in August.  "Alyssa," I heard Him say, "I am in the city just as much as I am in the mountains."  He isn't just present in the restful seasons, but He is present in the hustle and bustle of packed google calendars, too.

From that moment on, everything shifted in me.  My prayer changed from, "Lord, get me through October," to, "Lord, what are you inviting me into in this very moment?"

I began to make attempts at practicing the presence of God, of listening, of sensing Him in the room, and of inviting Him into all circumstances (even the really boring ones).  I began experiencing Him always.  I'm still growing in this and I still have much to learn, but my relationship with Him soared to new levels almost immediately.

Last night I was finally able to put words to it:  I am learning how to add selah moments to my life, always.

In the Psalms, selah was added after some verses with the intent of pausing and reflecting.  In my life, I began pausing and reflecting after even the little things, inviting Jesus into the situations I was in and asking Him what He thought about them.  A life of abiding began to captivate me and I wanted more of Him, more of His presence.  I couldn't get enough.  The more I experienced Him, the more my heart yearned for more--more Jesus, more Spirit, more of the Father.

And oh, how I experienced Him in October.  I carved out moments of selah.  I would drop what I was doing just to get down on my knees in sincere prayer and worship if I felt Him inviting me deeper into His presence.  And I chose time with Him over everyone else in October.  For an extrovert, it was strange that I felt like I had intentionally dropped off of the face of the earth (socially speaking) this month, but I knew that in a season thick of ministry and limited on time, I needed Him more than ever before, and so I prioritized Him in new ways.

On Friday, the calendar turned to November, and I have to admit that I've spent the last few days in a confused and almost somber state, mourning the loss of the October that I had once so dreaded.

A normal work flow is now underway.  My social life has started back up (I've hung out with.. gosh… 30 friends in the last three days?!… most of whom I haven't seen since August), which is a gift to this raging extrovert.  I am grateful for November, really I am.  But I loved October.  I loved it because I learned and grew so much in the simplicity of inviting Jesus into it.  It was a month of love and passion and newness and an opportunity to know Him more.

But life doesn't start during the next season that is unique and unlike daily life--be it on a peaceful retreat or in a busy, jam-packed week.  Life is now.  Life has always been now.  Life will always continue to be now when I choose to invite Him into it.  Selah.

Life is now when it's quiet.  Life is now when it's routine.  Life is now when it's busy.  Life is now in Christ.  Selah.

And the most wonderful piece is what Jesus talks about in John 15:  that abiding produces fruit.  The closer I remain to Him, the more I can hear His heartbeat, and the more my own heart begins to beat in rhythm with His.  I am morphing more into His image with eagerness and delight.  It feels good to sense growth in this sinful heart of mine, to watch the ugliness of it be made beautiful by His love.

And that's all I really yearn for these days, anyway: more awareness of Him in and with me, more of my heartbeat syncing in rhythm with His, more of this Kingdom reality, more heaven on earth.

And broken and ugly things just like us are stamped, "Excellent,"

With ink tapped in wells of divine veins.

-Lofty by Propoganda

The Rattles of New Life [and conversations on post retreat syndrome]

Son of man, can these bones live?

That's the question that's been echoing through most of my conversations lately, friends crying out to me that they feel far from God.  The common thread of spiritual deadness makes me keenly aware of the decaying stench that penetrates so many Christian circles, not due to any outright disobedience to Christ, but due to a lack of the pursuit of relationship with Him.

It's the same question I asked God time and time again when I was overcome with the stress and the busyness--and sometimes even the monotony--that daily life tends to bring.  I would find myself often frustrated when I would get on a spiritual high at retreats or conferences or mission trips and watch it fade after returning home, presenting myself more like Moses than Paul, watching the glory fade and not increase.

Sovereign LORD, you alone know.

I knew something was off, something wasn't adding up.  As a New Testament believer, these constant deaths and revivals seemed much too draining to be the abundant life that Jesus spoke about.

Dry bones, hear the word of the LORD!

The revelation that God is always speaking and that I needed to just listen opened up new doors for me.  It tended to the flame that was in my heart, creating a fire in me that became beautiful and untamed and all-consuming.  As I started making attempts at listening, I could hear.  As I started making attempts at noticing, I could see.  Suddenly, abiding became more of a tangible reality rather than some abstract concept that we preach sermons and write workbooks on.  He is speaking.  Do you hear Him?  And almost all at once I began experiencing the fruit of the Spirit overtaking me and sensing the heartbeat of God.  I began experiencing newness.  Mundane routines were transformed into Jesus adventures.  I began to feel alive in more places than just on retreats.

This is what the Sovereign LORD says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life. I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin. I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the LORD.

In Ezekiel 37, the bones rattle and come together and grow tendons and skin, but there is no life present.  Part II involves the word being spoken again, and life is breathed into them.  We can give the appearance of being alive and actually be dead on the inside.  Having tendons and skin, while it might mean that you aren't dry bones anymore, doesn't mean that you are living in the abundant life that Jesus offers.

The bones rattle and receive breath after they hear the word.  Deadness becomes life when we hear Him speak and we chose to respond, but we won't hear Him unless we practice the art of listening.

So for those of you who were at The Big Event this past weekend (or those who also experience the comings and goings of retreat highs), listen up: You did not experience a Jesus high because you were at Lake Champion.  You experienced a Jesus high because you were constantly in Scripture, in prayer, and in fellowship with believers.

If you find ways to incorporate those things into your daily routine, you will experience abundant life all of the time, and not just on retreats and at conferences.

Here are some simple and tangible things you can do:
1.  Read Scripture.  Every day.  I don't care how busy your schedule is or what your major is.  Be in the Word every morning (~1 chapter a day) and don't leave your spot until you find an application for your life.  [And actually read through a book, don't just pop around aimlessly.]  His word is alive and active and He will speak to you through it.  You've never read Scripture before on your own and don't know where to start?  Great.  Try starting with Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John.
2.  Learn how to listen in prayer (rather than talk the whole time).  We are not a people who worship a far off god that we just "shoot prayer requests up to."  We are in an intimate relationship with a living God who dwells in and with us.  Speak and wait to hear.  Journaling can help you focus, so ask God a question and then write a response as He puts thoughts in your mind or pictures in your imagination.
3.  Get plugged in and pursue fellowship.  Join a small group.  Find community.
4.  As you go about your day, practice His presence by becoming more aware of Him in the room.  This might seem tricky at first, but the more you do it, the more natural it becomes.

He loves you and He offers you life--abundant life--that stretches beyond the walls of our worship services, weekly prayer meetings, and off-site retreats.  This life exceeds the limitations of our life stages and schedules and (even sometimes) our lack of close friends that live nearby.

Dare to experience Him always.  It will change you.  Forever.

[Speak.]

"My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me."

-Jesus

To follow Him has always been the invitation.

When Jesus first called His disciples He said, "Come, follow Me."  They left their homes, their families, and their careers to follow.  This initial story parallels our own lives, for those of us who have entered into a relationship with Him.

But the following didn't stop there.  The following continues, always, as we remain His sheep.

Jesus says that He knows these sheep, these followers.  And doesn't this verse also imply that the sheep must know Him?

The word "hear" [Greek = akouō] speaks of attending to what is being said and giving an ear to a teacher.  It is a choice.  The reality is, He is speaking all the time, and the invitation is to listen.  And when we decide to listen to Him, we grow to know Him more.

The call is to hear and thus to know Him, to have Him know us, and to follow.  When Jesus beckons us to come, it is not a one-time decision or even a once-every-six-months decision.  We joke in this Christian culture of experiencing "come to Jesus moments," but the invitation is not to come during a season of revelation or hardship or exponential growth.  The invitation is to follow.  Coming happens once or in scattered spurts.  Following happens with every step, every leap, every hobble, and even every crawl.

The invitation is to follow.

The invitation is to listen, because He is speaking.

The invitation is to know and be known.

The invitation is to go deeper,

     in this minute and in the next,

     abiding and praying without ceasing.

Let's stop separating the sacred from the secular.

Let's stop coming to Jesus only when we hear His voice screaming over our noisy lives.

Let's stop coming to Jesus only when we meet with Him in the morning.

Let's say "yes" to the invitation to live out of the Kingdom reality that we are so graciously offered,

     [on earth as it is in heaven].

Let's follow, not come,

     in step with the Spirit, every second of every day.

Let's hear His whispers as well as His shouts,

     because He speaks and His words cut through all of the opaque mundane,

     and all of the thick darkness that we sometimes endure.

He is speaking.

He calls us by name,

     saying, "Child, pay attention,

          you are Mine."

He knows His sheep.

By name, He knows us.

By name, He calls us.

The invitation is to experience Him [always].

The invitation is to go deeper.

always, always, always deeper than before.