“I am a sinner” (Jesus the Tattoo Artist)

I recently had an unexpected (yet MUCH needed) personal encounter with Jesus.

 

The cool thing about this encounter is the location in which it took place and whom Jesus used to meet me in this experience.  Dare I be brave and say that it consisted of being outside of church walls, and through a person who looked like anything but a pastor?

Straight up- Jesus met me in a tattoo shop in a small, Mennonite town.  Jesus spoke to me through a pointed bearded, tattooed arms, multiple piercings on his ears, motorcycle riding, self-acclaimed “I am a sinner”, tattoo artist.  Wait…did I forget to mention that this same self-acclaimed sinner was now, more importantly, of royal blood? A Son, bought for with a price, of the Lord Most High.  This same man was a Jesus-loving, dedicated husband whom God used to speak more Biblical truth into my life than I’ve heard for a while.  He didn’t speak from a pulpit and he was most certainly not wearing his ‘Sunday best’ (yet still totally professional) but what he shared was raw and real.  Open and vulnerable, not hidden behind a mask or a fake smile.  It is true folks!  IT IS possible!  

Simply put, I was there to walk in, get my second tattoo (with hopefully a limited amount of pain in the process) and walk out.  Jesus had something else in mind.  He wanted to ‘wake me up’ through this tattoo artist.  Jesus wanted to remind me that we are all sinners but that doesn’t change just how much He (Jesus) loves me, and you, despite how we try to hide behind our ‘perfectly sinless’ lives (ya’ll know what I am talking about). Reality is, I am a sinner.  Yet one of the cool things about who Jesus is, is that He still cause me ‘child’.  He still calls me ‘daughter of the King Most High’.  He still relentlessly, lovingly pursues me even when I try and push Him away when I fail to see His Goodness and faithfulness in my own life.  He still straight up loves me regardless of how messy my life is.  If that isn’t a display of love and grace…I don’t know what is.  Thank you JESUS for the work You did on the cross for a sinner like me.

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As strange as it sounds, I cannot remember a time in recent weeks that I felt as much peace as I did while I was allowing my body to be poked time and time again.  I found myself becoming mesmerized as I watched the ink flow through the tool and the design begin to take shape just above my inner right ankle.  A (base) design that started off as a ‘lucky find’ on Pinterest but that has now (thanks to the artistic skills of my tattoo artist) become a tattoo uniquely my own.  

A tattoo that holds scriptural truth from Micah 6:8 that changed the direction/focus of my life when I first heard it during my first year of Bible College.  A tattoo that captures Africa, a place/continent that challenged what I thought I knew and understood about Micah 6:8.  The same continent that also ‘rocked’ my faith foundation as I began to discover a living, active God through the lives of the African people and culture.  My times/experience in Africa, would only be the start of my adventures with Jesus around the world.  An experience I will forever be grateful for.   

My tattoo includes a last minute decision to add a single strand of wheat and was done in honour of my late Grandpa.  My grandpa spent his entire life farming and providing the base ingredient that would feed more mouths of people than I will ever know.  That same single strand of wheat, has now taken on dual meaning as it also represents scriptural truth found in Luke 10:2.  This verse coincides with my inner desire that God will use me in HIS harvest, while living out Micah 6:8, regardless of where I am in the world.  Finally, the broken/incomplete lines that make up the globe, represents the brokenness and pain in this world.  Brokenness and pain that will one day be fully restored by Jesus and the Biblical truth found in Revelation 21:4.

For an added, unexpected bonus, my new tattoo will now have another meaningful moment behind it.  A forever reminder of a brief 1.5 hour powerful encounter with Jesus.  An encounter with Jesus through a pointed bearded, tattooed arms, multiple piercings on his ears, motorcycle riding, self-acclaimed “I am a sinner”.  Yet also a dedicated husband and chosen son, who was bought with a price, of the Lord Most High…a Jesus-loving tattoo artist.

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“He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God” Micah 6:8

^“He told them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field” Luke 10:2

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death' or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." Revelation 21:4

Lessons from Africa; One year HOME!

1 year. 1 year breaks down to 12 months, 365 days, 8,760 hours, 525,600 minutes, and 31, 536, 00 seconds…

But who’s counting?

1 year, 12 months, 365 days, 8,760 hours, 525,600 minutes, and 31, 536, 00 seconds…that’s how long my heart has been incomplete.  A very special piece of it missing. A piece that only one small spot on this entire globe, will ever fill. 

Today marks one year since my feet left African soil. 

Where has this year gone?

Today is July 27, 2016 but I remember July 27, 2015 ‘like it was yesterday’.  One year since the last rounds of hugs and smiles that are now only a memory captured on photos and instilled in my heart.  Throughout the hugs and tears of saying, “Goodbye” the main thought going through my head was, “Don’t cry Nikki”.  It was followed by, “Once you start, you won’t be able to stop.  Hold on just a little longer.  Cry them out on the plane and then ‘pretend’ everything is okay upon landing back in Canada”.

Truth is, I don’t honestly know if I ever truly cried the way I needed to…either on the plane or in the months/year that followed.  Yes, I had my moments.  My moments of, ‘what the *insert choice word here*’ followed by anger, hurt, pain and confusion.  Moments where culture shock really was too much (or so it seemed) for me.  Such as the time where I literally almost walked into the automatic doors at the local mall entrance.  Moments where I have gone, “Remember that time in Zambia when…” only to stop what I was saying because it dawned on me that no one at home will ever truly ‘get’ what I experienced.  Those were the moments of frustration and ‘forget about it, you wouldn’t understand anyways’ conversation ending comments.  There have also been moments where I’ve felt like giving the person before me a good ‘shake’ as I starred at them in utter disbelief at the idiotic, un-educated comment that just left their mouth.  Stunned and confused, I walked away silently praying, “Dear God, close my mouth before I say something I will regret…” 

However, I want to re-share something I wrote August 9, 2015 on a blog upon returning from Zambia. 

“I recall a conversation that I had during one of my last nights in Zambia.  I was really struggling with coming home.  How was I supposed to ‘let go’ of the people who had grown so very dear to my heart?  How was I supposed to ‘let them go’ knowing that I may never see them again?  How was I supposed to be ‘okay’ knowing the disease running rampaged through their bodies and that I couldn’t do anything about it?  How was any of this ok?

I was told something along these lines, “Nikki, it is not a matter of if you’re ‘ok’ with any of this.  It is a matter of knowing who God is and continuing to daily surrender your (my) life and the lives of the kids here (and those at home) to Him regardless of what is going on inside your heart.  God has ordained each and every moment and step along the way.  He brought you back to Zambia now for a reason and now your (my) job is ask yourself, ‘what is it that God is wanting you to learn from the people/kids here (in Zambia) in your life?  How is He using what you are feeling now, to stir you on through the gifts, passions, desires and heart in which He has given you?”

How is He using what I am feeling now, on July 27, 2016, to stir me on through the gifts, passions, desires and heart that He has given me?

There are some days in which I think I know the answer. Days in which I think I have it ‘all together” but then reality kicks me in the butt.

Truth is, I don’t know.

Most days, I am a complete mess that is struggling to stay above.  Most days consist of me still trying to figure out the answer to that question.

Yes, I have taken strides over this past year and yes, God continues to walk alongside me in the process as well.  If I’ve learned anything since I became a Jesus follower, it is that following Jesus is a lifelong process.  He is constantly refining us, shaping us into who He is calling us to be.  We are human.   

The reality is we will mess up and we will make mistakes…but there is ALWAYS ALWAYS Grace.

Words cannot express how incredible thankful I remain, for the opportunity God gave me to go back.  It truly was God ordained and driven…each and every step along the way.  Another example of He truly is the GOOD Father who knows us better than we ever will know ourselves.  He provides for us even when we are unaware of what our hearts truly need.  Returning to Zambia when I did, is just one example of this within my own life. 

So what was it that God specifically wanted me to learn from the people/kids in Zambia?  

I’ve realized that it is not so much what He wanted me to learn…rather it is what He wanted to DO within me.  Through my ‘kids’ at Grace, God began a powerful healing process within me.  A healing process that I never knew I needed, nor could I have imagined.  Through my ‘youth’ here at home, He continues that healing process in a way that is just as powerful as when He began.  There is no ‘secret formula’ nor is it ‘rocket science’.  It’s quite a simple process really.  Every day begins with a realization that every breath I take in that day, is a precious precious gift.  It is a gift I don’t deserve but it is a gift God has chosen to give me.  From there, I must do all I can to serve Him by serving others.  To LOVE Him by loving others; regardless of the situation.  Though the process is simple, the application is a lot hard and I know that I am not the same person today, as I was a year ago when I stepped off that plane back in Winnipeg.  I’ve changed and I have grown but I also know that the healing process He began over a year ago, is far from finished.  It’s a journey.  A life-long journey with Jesus that I know will continue to take me on crazy adventures here and now, and around this globe.

 

Thank Goodness I got the Creator of the Universe in the ‘drivers seat’ guiding me each and every step of the way!  Above all else, I am thankful to know my Creator.  He, who created me in HIS image, knows every single hair on my head and whose thoughts about me, outweigh the grains of sand, and whose ways are higher than mine and greater than mine ever will be.  

Thank you Jesus; for loving me the way only You can.   

When God says "Stay"

I’ve been missing Africa.  I’ve been missing it a LOT lately.

I miss ‘my Africa’ nestled in the south central part of the continent.  I miss the ‘care free’ life. The slow and steady pace of a culture that taught me what it truly means to invest into the lives of those around you.  To be still and to be present where you are.  I miss not always having to ‘go’ somewhere all the time and to simply sit for the sake of sitting.  I miss my frappe like drinks and freshly prepared sandwiches from The Mint every Saturday.  Gelato, I cannot forget the African Gelato place.  Nothing compares to fresh gelato on a hot African day. I even miss rides into town; rides that should take only 10 minutes but take upwards 45 due to potholes, traffic jams or simply another accident.  I miss goofing off with local taxi drivers, bartering for the best price to get us home, as locals chuckle as they pass by. 

More importantly;

I miss the feet of those who walk on a small acreage of land, tucked just outside the busy, growing city of Ndola.  I miss the arms wrapped around my neck in the biggest, bestest hugs that there are.  There isn’t a price I wouldn’t pay to simply get just ONE of those hugs. I miss their beautiful, bright smiles up against their gorgeous dark skin tones.  I miss the laughter that reaches to the Heavens; from the songs of praise on a Sunday morning, to the school hallways Monday-Friday and everything in between.  I miss waking up each morning and hearing their voices right outside my door.  Sunday photo-shoots followed by evening movies and board games.  I miss sitting in the Insaka’s; getting my hair braided by 10 little hands, or listening to another gut-wrenching story of hopelessness, abuse, abandonment, neglect, pain and betrayal, turn into a miracle story of hope, healing, rescue, redemption, friendship and love.  I miss learning about scripture through the eyes of a child/teen each and every Sunday morning in a child led church service. I miss the countless hours of Frisbee throwing and giggles that accompanied it.

I miss spending time with my 3 sponsor children.  One a toddler that I just happened to be in the van, the day his teen brother brought him to us through social welfare.  Crying, scrawny and incredibly thirsty he was.  A year later, he’s healthy, eats more than I ever could, and is developing a personality uniquely his own. My first child I ‘took’ as a sponsor, an elementary aged girl who came broken, burned and lost, to Grace Academy a month before my first trip in 2011.  I saw God truly working in her life during my time with her in 2012 and 2015.  What an honour that God chose me to be a part of her story in a very practical way of child sponsorship!  Finally my newest sponsor ‘child’, no longer a child but a beautiful young lady and a former grade 10 English student of mine.  Quiet and shy at first, I found her one of the hardest to leave last year as she slowly began to open up her life to me.  Together, under the Africa sun, she shared with me about where she came from, the hardships she had endured and who she trying to be.  Ironically enough, she reminded me of a few of my girls here at home and, unknowingly, taught me a lot about life and gave me a new perspective into the lives of my teens. 

Yesterday, my church hosted a dessert fundraiser for Seeds of Hope, for the kids who call it home. 

I debated going.  Not because I’ve heard what was going to be shared time and time again, but because I was scared of how my heart would respond to it.  I was scared of the feelings and emotions tied to what would be shared, of ‘losing my control’ and of the personal embarrassment of the tears, I feared, that would show themselves among friends and peers.  Ultimately, I was scared of that one specific question/statement that I knew would be geared towards me by those around me.

“So Nikki, when are you hoping on a plane and heading back? Where is your next stop?”

What I did NOT expect, was the incredible peace that filled my heart and the strength within my voice as I responded back, “Not for another 2.5 years at least”.  The shock look on their faces was evident as I continued with saying, “God has given me an incredible ministry right here at home that I am honoured to be a part of each and every day.  He continues to allow me to be a part of miracle stories happening right here, right now.  I know without a doubt, that this is where He is calling me to be and I cannot express the amount of joy that it brings to my heart”.

Furthermore, what I did NOT expect where the tears that didn’t appear in my eyes.  Rather, they became tears that flowed out of a, now alumni, youth girl who I’ve grown to know, cherish and love throughout her 4 years in high school.  I could feel the praise in my heart go up towards God, as I simply wrapped her in a huge hug, as her tears flowed. Each tear a symbol of a beautiful, compassionate heart that God has given her, a heart that I KNOW He will continue to work miracles in, and through.  The simple words "Thank you" that she whispered into my ear, provided further confirmation of God being alive and moving here in a small Mennonite town.  I knew that, she knew I knew full well what her tears were for.  She knew that I understood 110% in a way that very few locally do. What a blessing, what an honour to continue to walk alongside her (and many others) as they continue their walks with Jesus. 

I’ve heard the saying once, “Save the world one life at a time”.

I have yet to fully understand it, but day by day I am finding myself gaining an even greater understanding behind that simple statement. 

Truth is.  I miss Africa and I always will.  I miss my kids in Zambia something fierce, with every breath that I take.  That will never leave the core of who I am...

Yet my heart remains at peace knowing that perhaps one day God will lead me back there again, maybe even for my toddler's graduation!?!?! (How cool would that be!!?!). However for now, with a trusting head and a knowing heart, I know God is taking care of my 'kids' in Zambia, the way He took care of my youth girls while I was at Grace Academy.  I've learned time and time again, that no matter where I am, whether in Africa or Altona, my 'kids' are ultimately in God’s hands whether I am there with them or not.  Thank the LORD for that!!  I know the best thing I can do for them, is pray and guess what…physical location doesn’t matter when it comes to prayer!!

God is beyond borders and customs, oceans and skies, politics and personal hardships and everything in between.  

Our God is a God who knows no bounds.  Who has required 3 things of us and whose love is never ending, whose faithfulness reaches to the skies. 

"Your steadfast love, O Lord, extends to the heavens, your faithfulness to the clouds". Psalm 36:5

 

“He has shown you, O mortal, what is GOOD.  And what does the LORD require of you? To ACT justly.  To LOVE Mercy. To WALK humbly with the LORD your God” (Micah 6:8)