Phoenix, Part One of Many

I've been struck this week by the mythical bird that is this city's namesake, the Phoenix. The Phoenix spontaneously combusts as it dies and then rises again from it's own ashes as a new baby bird. The symbolism of this does not escape me for my own life as I have moved to Phoenix. In coming, I decided to die to myself. I left my comfortable, trustworthy, safe, friends and family-filled life in Fort Collins to come here, to the desert. I knew that it would be a form of death to me, to my flesh, to come here, but even being prepared for death it still takes you by surprise.

Don't get me wrong, things have gone amazingly! God has been faithful to welcome me to the church here and to get me a job. He has taken care of me at every turn. But it's still really really hard: The missing of home; the spiritual darkness that met me here; the immensity of the work here that God has sent me to do. My flesh is tested constantly here. And more lies than I'm used to bombard my brain daily and fending them off with the shield of faith takes more diligence than I'm used to. I delight that God has counted me worthy to refine and renew in such a way and that he is with me to strengthen me. And I'm excited to see what he will do with me.

This morning at church we sang the song "Burn for you," by Steele Crosswhite. This line struck me most deeply: "The offered lives of the weakest ones are known to change the world." Lord, I'm weak, but my life is offered to you. Use me and sharpen me however you see fit.

Feeling Kinda Crazy

Almost two months ago now, I felt like God clearly told me to quit my job. I had worked at RFY for almost five years. I was tired and cranky and sick 90% of the time. I felt bad because I still loved the kids I worked with and even the job itself at times, but I just couldn't go on with it anymore (for more reasons, see my first blog post). I felt God leading me onward.

So I quit my job. Without a plan. Without another job lined up. Which of course, by the world's standards, is mostly insane (especially considering the current job climate in the US). However, by prayer and counsel I knew I was supposed to leave. This verse clinched the deal:

"Thus says the Lord:
'The people who survived the sword found grace in the wilderness;
   when Israel sought for rest,
     the Lord appeared to him from far away.
I have loved you with an everlasting love;
   therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you.'" ~ Jeremiah 31: 2-3

And so I began a new adventure trusting God. Then, about a week later, I went on a camping trip to Moab, UT. It was a reunion for all the people who were on the Boulder Church plant and their families; 16 adults and 14 kids. It was crazy and cold and, all said and done, fun. Anyway, while camping, I got to talking to Jen, the wife of Brandon, who recently moved to Phoenix to be a pastor for a church down there. It was kind of a church plant of sorts. (Brandon was also the guy who lead the Boulder church plant.) And while talking to Jen, I told her I was looking for new life direction, being unemployed and all. She suggested praying about moving to Arizona.

Well, long story short (I tried to write out the long version, but it was taking too long...), I spoke to some people, prayed a bunch and felt increasing peace in my heart when I considered moving to Phoenix. Vision for my life in AZ sprang up in my heart through conversation and prayer; a vision for healing both for others and myself. My life vision as a Christian has always been Isaiah 61:1-3:


"The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me,
   because the Lord has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor;
   he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
   and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;
to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor,
   and the day of vengeance of our God;
to comfort all who mourn;
   to grant to those who mourn in Zion—
to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
   the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
   that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified."


In almost all my conversations about going to Phoenix, a stronger call, a hunger, a focused passion, expanded more and more in my heart. God made it very evident that he wants me to go to Phoenix.

So, here I am. Saturday I am selling most of my possessions, and two weeks from tomorrow I'm moving to Phoenix without my own perfect plan and without knowing what the future really holds. But I know who holds my future and I trust Him implicitly.

Shout it out: "Jesus is alive!!"

Hello Reader! I'm not sure who you are, and this is a great asset to me. You see, I'm not sure when it set in, but I am a people-pleaser. My emotional well-being depends on the opinion of others. I even have the temptation to please you, even though I can't know which "you" you are, while I'm writing this. Are you a family member? Someone from my church? Someone from work? Someone close to me? Someone I don't even know?

Honestly, this ignorance I have of your identity scares me. In fact, I know you are judging me. All the words I use, whether they're spelled correctly, whether my punctuation is perfect, whether you connect with what I'm saying... all of these factors and how you perceive them and then react to them usually give me my own sense of identity. --And that is what I'm trying to break away from. And it is why I am writing this blog: to finally be free of "you", of your opinion of me. Free to be me.

Most of the time I weigh my audience very carefully and say only the things I know won't rock the boat. If you're my friend on Facebook, and if you pay attention, my status updates are usually very bland and not very personal. So many times I've wanted to break free and just say what I want to say. But then I stop, and I think to myself, "What if so-and-so reads this? What will they think?" And then I don't write it because I hate to cause ripples. And my thoughts go unsaid because, what will "you" think of me? 

I have become a really private person these last few years. I wasn't always so censored. I think it really settled over me when I started working at Reflections for Youth. As a policy, we weren't allowed to share personal information with the kids, especially religious beliefs. Considering that my religious beliefs are 100% who I am, I always felt like I had to be someone else and pretend like I saw the whole world differently than I really do. This is a huge reason that I quit my job at RFY. I just couldn't NOT be a Christian. Everything I do and think is permeated with God's Word and his Spirit. Being quiet about it wasn't working, and I violated the policy all the time and then I'd worry about being fired for sharing the only hope I know with these kids. It was also incredibly torturous to sit and watch RFY come up with various programs that they thought would provide the kids with the correct "behavior modification" system. Oh man! If they only knew GOD. He is the only behavior modification system that works! And I couldn't just sit there while they tried and tried (and failed and failed) to mold these kids into "good" kids. All I feel like we taught them, on a large scale, was how not to get caught and how to be people-pleasers to get what you want and get out... We always used the phrase "fake it to make it".  I know I sound sort of cynical. And I know that God has, does, and will work within whatever system is put in place, which is why I stayed there for so long. 

But I live in AMERICA! I can write this Blog and shout the name of Jesus as loudly as I want and pray publicly, and talk to people on the street about Him and post on my Facebook that he is the only good thing about this whole world.  And I will. And that's what I'm doing with this Blog. I WILL PROCLAIM HIS NAME. I WILL GLORIFY JESUS CHRIST AS THE ONLY SAVIOR, and THE SON OF THE ONLY HIGH GOD.

And you won't get an apology from me this time for ruffling your feathers. If your feathers are ruffled, don't read my blog. :)

With all the Holy Love in the world, 

Andrea C. Skerry