Category Archives: dreams

Saying Goodbye

dreams, Teaching, , ,

The hardest part of my job is saying goodbye. 

I am a college chemistry professor, and I spend four years investing in my students, teaching them, living life with them, learning from them, and giving them advice on classes and life.  I love what I do – it is a great job.  But the hardest part comes every May, when I watch them walk across the stage at graduation and out of my classroom for the last time. 

Some of these students have babysat my kids or watched my dog.  They’ve been over to my house for breakfast or dinner.  They’ve seen the good, the bad, and the ugly of my life for four years.  I’ve walked with them through the death of friends and family, the deferral of dreams, the joy of engagements and acceptances to graduate of medical school, and so much more. 


My job is to prepare them to enter the world – as a servant, as a leader, and as a scientist.  My job is to show them what life can look like when you live it well – no matter the
struggles and difficulties placed before you. My job is to prepare my students to leave (and for that matter, my kids too – but that’s a blog post for another time), and if I have done that job
well, then saying goodbye should be easy – because I have succeeded. 

But when I succeed in my job, it means that I have to let them go.  I have to watch from afar as
they start careers, publish papers, make amazing scientific discoveries, care for patients, achieve further degrees, and more. 

I guess what I’m trying to say is that, when I do my job well, part of my heart leaves with my students.  And that hurts.   

These particular seniors have watched my kids enter the world and have watched them grow for nearly three years.  They have walked with me through the ups and downs of foster care, and cried happy tears with me when we got news of my son’s adoption.  They have challenged me and helped me to grow, and I have learned from them as they have learned from me. 

As I watch them go every spring, I wish them all the best in the world.  I know that they will
experience heartache and hardship, and I hope that what they have learned here
will help them through it.  I hope that when they are asked if their time in college was worth it, their answer will be yes – for the learning, the people, the lessons, and more.  I hope that they remember the life lessons they have learned in my office and in my classroom.  I hope that they live lives of servant leadership, stopping to have conversations with colleagues and patients,
sharing their faith and their passion with those around them. 



This post was originally shared on the Breathe Bravely blog.

Guest Post: Whiplash

Do Something, dreams, Faithful, Guest Post, Patience, Prayer

I only had the privilege of living with Jen in college for a year, but that year was one of transformation and change and following God’s will for both of us.  After our senior year, Jen went on to Princeton, where she competed seminary and has since been working at a church in North Carolina.  I have always admired Jen’s way of looking at life, and have appreciated the conversations we’ve had since leaving college.  It is a privilege to invite Jen to share on the blog today.  

By Jen Christianson

Sometimes my life as a minister gives me whiplash.

Today, I spent the afternoon in a retreat to close our summer internship program, celebrating a summer of grace and growth, and grieving the end and the necessary goodbyes.

Immediately after, I drove to the nearest hospital to visit with a congregant in his eighties, who’d survived a tricky heart surgery. He has a long road of recovery ahead, but in so many ways it’s a fresh chapter: life snatched back from death.

The end of one chapter. The beginning of another.

There are too many days like this, sometimes. Too many funerals and baptisms in the same week.

At times, I find it easier (but never actually easy) to strike a balance, and then there are days I scarcely know what to do.

I had a lot of those days in Kenya.

I visited earlier this summer with a group from my church, seventeen other travelers on a ten-day trip to reconnect with friends and ministry partners in and around Nairobi.

For fourteen of us, it was our first time there. And so everything was jarring, everything new, everything a revelation.

And I had whiplash all over again.

Except it looked like this: laughing children next to open sewers in the middle of the slum. Students learning in broken down buildings without light, without air.

Joy next to suffering. Light in the darkest places. Abundant hospitality in villages that know only poverty.

How can it be? How does this happen?

I kept remembering the question from John 1, the incredulous tone: Can anything good come from Nazareth?

And the answer: come and see.

Come and see that even in the midst of great hardship, there is blessing. Come and see the people who laugh and sing even when their stomachs are empty. Come and listen to the friends that we met there, young men like Jeff.

Jeff lives in Mathare, Nairobi’s second-largest slum, giving shelter to half a million people in an area about half a square mile. He is an exception to many rules, not a statistic: he has not succumbed to drugs, alcohol, violence or gangs. He spends his time in a ministry that seeks out young people in the slums, to make sure they know the same path is open to them. He spends Friday nights in church.

But to walk the streets where Jeff grew up, to stand in the classroom he spent years in as a student, and to sit and hear him talk about a God who protects and provides for him is to be profoundly confused. At how this kind of faith can grow, well – here.

I felt that way. Until one night, in our group devotions, when a fellow traveler made this observation: “the people we’ve met,” she said, “have so little. But because of their faith, they have so much. We have so much, and yet, because of our faith…we really don’t have much at all.”

And then I realized: I want Jeff’s faith.

I want to cling tightly once more to the idea that God cares about me, and is at work, all the time, doing something good in my life. I want to sleep secure in the conviction that God protects and watches over me. I want to pray with confidence that I will be heard and answered – even if it’s in ways I didn’t ask for or don’t understand.

I want to walk with intention again, the life of a disciple. To be guided by faith. To follow wherever God leads.

And I’m learning that God often leads straight into a whole lot of whiplash, that messy pairing together of things that just don’t go, that don’t make sense.

A savior who comes to a peasant girl in a stable. A Lord who eats with criminals and lepers and prostitutes. Life out of death. Hope out of despair. Light out of darkness.

The life of a disciple, I think, means witnessing to this kind of illogical, confusing, astonishing, grace and power. It means standing in the middle of these contradictions and proclaiming “yes” to all of them. Yes, God is in these both; yes, something good can come out of Nazareth.

It means remembering that the God who made us all will make it all well, bring it all together, in the end.

Thanks be to God.

Here We Go Again

Do Something, dreams, Faithful, Live Like Jesus, Testimony

Two weeks ago, I packed up my life in boxes, loaded a truck, and drove south.

If this sounds like deja vu, you’re not wrong.  I did this almost exactly one year ago, too.  And it was just as hard.

Last time I moved to the cornfields, this time I moved to the mountains.  Last time I only crossed one state line, this time I crossed four.  Last time I left behind a group of trusted friends and “adopted” nieces and nephews, this time I left behind all of that and a fiance.  Last time I knew it was a temporary move, this time I hope it’s permanent.

Funny how God calls you outside of your comfort zone, lets you get comfortable and then moves you outside of it again.

In my case, it has literally been moving me across the country.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I can be a little bit like Moses, stuttering that I don’t have what it takes, that I’m not worthy, that God has to have the wrong person.  But God still manages to use me, to change me, to grow me into a woman after His own heart.  All because I choose to follow even though I don’t really know what He’s got in mind.

If I hadn’t gone to Michigan, I wouldn’t have the incredible friends and adopted nieces and nephews that I do.  If I hadn’t gone to Indiana, I never would have met my fiance.  If I hadn’t gone to Tennessee…well, we’ll see what God has in store.

For now, I’ll start by opening my home to people, teaching my students, opening my office door, and getting involved in a church.  And I’ll keep my ears and my eyes open for whatever God has in store, knowing that He has prepared me for anything He calls me to do.

Guest Post: Meno

Broken, dreams, Faithful, Guest Post, Prayer, Testimony

When I lived in Michigan, God brought me some incredible friends whom I have cherished greatly.  Our group of women (and their respective husbands and children) became a group I loved to get together with for anything – games, Bible study, babysitting, or girl’s night.  No matter what each of us is going through, we are always there for each other.  Last year, one of these friends, Heidi, went through a difficult miscarriage.  There were no words we could say, only hugs and shared tears and shoulders to cry on.  Heidi has written these words for you today, no matter what you are going through.  No matter how hard, God is still faithful.  It is truly an honor to invite Heidi to write for All For Him Life today.  

By Heidi O’Neill

Sometimes life just doesn’t make sense.  Sometimes you are rolling along and out of nowhere you get horrible news.  You’re knocked flat on your back and gasping for air, head reeling as you try to come to terms with your new reality.  Maybe for you it was hearing of a sudden death of a family member, a bad diagnosis, your spouse leaving you, or losing your job.  For me it was an ultra sound and a doctor telling me words that my ears would not register – we had lost our daughter to miscarriage.

We had a rocky first trimester but had made it to the second trimester.  My nausea and fatigue had lifted, our doctor felt that we only needed routine care from that point on, and we felt like we were spared.  We felt assured that our fervent prayers and those of our friends and family had been answered.

But then the spotting returned and I set up to go in for a heartbeat check later that day.  I went by myself because we had been told that spotting could just be a part of this pregnancy.  Two nurses couldn’t find the heartbeat.  “Sometimes we just can’t find the heartbeat with the Doppler at this point in the pregnancy,” the nurse told me.  “You are next in line for the ultra sound, we’ll check this out .”  I held out hope while I called my husband and waited for my turn in the ultra sound room.  It had always turned out fine so far.  We prayed together and held our breath.  Nothing could have prepared my heart to hear my doctor explain that although I should I have been 15 weeks pregnant my baby had died around 12 weeks.  We would never get to meet that sweet child here on earth.  Of all the hard things I have been through, nothing had ever rocked my faith like this.

My heart was full of questions.  So many questions.  Why her?  Why my little one?  How could she have died nearly three weeks ago without me knowing anything was wrong?  Why were there no symptoms earlier?  How was I going to tell my 2 year old son who couldn’t wait to be a big brother?  How was I ever going to be ok again?  How was I ever going to trust God again? How can a God who loves let something hurt me like this?  If God really loved me, why did he let this happen?  If God is all powerful, why didn’t he answer these prayers? Why her?  Why us?  Why does this happen to any little ones at all?

Why does a good God allow such awful things to happen to those he loves?

Through the moments, days, and weeks that followed I knew that I should trust God.  I’m a rule-following, people-pleaser by nature and inclined to “do the right thing.”  I told my heart, “trust God, he loves you,” but my mind hurled back more questions, doubts, and plenty of anger.  I knew that in all of the anger and pain I couldn’t make her come back.  I couldn’t fix this, and I couldn’t make it stop hurting.

God turned my mind to one word, meno.  I had fallen in love with this word from a Bible Study of 1 John I did last fall (What Love Is by Kelly Minter).  Meno is greek for remain, abide.  We had studied and looked deeply at this word, specifically in the passage where John calls believers to “remain in the truth.”  It is hard to force yourself to believe something.  I’m strong willed, but even I only have so much will power.  The most precious thing about this word is that it is translated in all of these ways: abide, be held in, wait with expectancy, continue in.

Be held in the truth.

God doesn’t expect us to be faithful to him on our own.  He sent his Spirit to live in us.  The power of God living in us, is helping us to remain in his truth.  He is helping us.  He was and is helping me.  God also warns us that “in this world we will have trouble,” and “Do not be surprised when you face trials of many kinds.”  He knows there would be hard things that will weigh on us and be painful.  When we walk through those things our hearts can feel betrayed.  It is hard to see why a loving God would allow us to walk through such suffering.  Our hearts can be prone to wander and wonder if God even loves us at all.  That is exactly why John calls us to remain in the truth – the truth of the Gospel.

You see, the Gospel is that God created and loves humanity.  He cares for us, provides for us, and in return we have sinned against him over and over and over again.  The Bible tells us that the wages for sin is death and that there is nothing we can do to pay that price.  Yet God, being full of mercy, gave up his own son to pay for our sin.  He sent  Jesus to die a painful, criminal’s death, paying for the sins of the world even though he was sinless.  Jesus died to pay the price for our sin so that through his work we could be forgiven and reconciled to God.  That is the truth.  That is love.  The truth of the Gospel, is that God does love me and gave himself up to be with me.

So in the pain I hold to that truth.  I hold onto it for dear life reminding myself that God is with me, that his promises are true even when it doesn’t feel like it.  It hasn’t been easy and there have been plenty of bad days.   Walking through this suffering I have let this word meno remind me to hold onto the truth of God’s love as well as other truths of scripture.

“I will never leave you or forsake you.” (Heb. 13:5)

“I will strengthen you, help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10)

“You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle.” (Psalm 56:8)

“in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28)

“God is near to the broken hearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18)

As I have clung to these truths and prayed for strength and peace I don’t want you to think that my questions just went away.  I continued to feel angry, hurt, and so, so sad.  This made me think a lot about Job and how he wrestled with God through questions too.

One Sunday our pastor shared a video about Job(Reading Scripture: Job http://bit.ly/2n5ta5a).  Job went through awful things too.  He suffered and questioned why.  I was surprised that the video pointed out thought that the question of why bad things happen to good people is never answered in his book.  When Job questions God and demands his explanations God does not give him an explanation like he wants.  Instead he shows him that Job is not able to fill the position of God of the Universe and that he cannot understand all of God’s ways.  God invites Job to trust him and his wisdom when hard things happen.

Like Job, I am humbled by God’s awesome power.  I could never dream of running the world.  It is impossible for me to see how all of the pieces of life fit together.  So when hard things come I lean hard into God.  I still ask my questions, and beg for peace, but now I also pray for greater trust.  I pray that God will increase my trust in him and in his wisdom and sovereignty.  I feel so sad and upset that Lilly died, but I do acknowledge there must be more going on that God knew about and I did not.  I pray that God will help me continue to lean hard into him and be assured of his love and good plans for my life.

The day after I delivered Lilly I got the word “meno” tattooed on my left wrist.  I am so forgetful of God’s love and promises that I wanted myself to have a constant, visual reminder to remain in his truth.  I wanted to remind myself that I am held there by the power of the Holy Spirit and I don’t need to do it on my own.  When I see it I pick a truth to focus on and pray that God would help me believe it in my heart more than I know it in my head.

He is faithful.  He is walking with me and is answering those prayers.

He wants to walk with you too.  I pray that you will open your heart to him and let him love you and hold you in his truth too.

More Than Just A Number

Broken, dreams, Faithful

By Kristen Entwistle

I am a Christian.  And I am a scientist.  And sometimes, I get caught up in the numbers, the data, and the predictions.  Particularly when it comes to CF. 

Because my life, for many years, revolved around a number.  37.5.  It was my expiration date.  What medical science said my life would be.  And the scientist in me held onto that.  Through the fault of no one else, I somehow had it through my head that my life had an end point and that I knew at least a general idea of when that would be.  I used to count up the years that I would spend in school, through a PhD program – when I finish I will be in my late 20s.  How many years did that leave me to make an impact?  To do something worthwhile with my life?

I’ve known forever that we can’t know the day or the time or how we’ll go home to the Lord.  It’s been engrained in my head for over two decades.  But somehow, the science and the medicine and the numbers had impeded my faith.

Because it’s not true.  I’m more than just a number.  More than just a disease.  More than just another n in a paper.    I’m more than just my life expectancy. 

number 1

My life already does mean something: because Christ has saved me and set me free from the bondage of sin.  I don’t need to worry about making an impact in this world, because all I can really do is lay down my life at the foot of the cross and ask God to use my life for His glory.

I am living for more than just a number.  I am living for the King of Kings, the Savior of the World.  I have been freely given salvation, grace, and mercy, and the promise of a better life in heaven, where there will be no more pain, no more sickness, and no more death.  I can’t wait for that. 

number 2

But as much as I am looking forward to that, I am going to, to borrow a phrase from La Vida, be here now.  I’ve got to live in the here and now, a vessel for God to use, no matter what.  I’ve got to choose to give the numbers to God, and trust Him to see me through, and to call me home in His timing.

Not My Dreams, But Yours

dreams, God's love, Waiting

By Kristen Entwistle

I don’t put much stock in dreaming.  Mostly because I find that the dreams (as in hopes and aspirations) I have end up getting squashed by the world or by other people.  Perhaps that’s why I didn’t particularly like this song the first few times I heard it.  Then I actually started listening.

The song talks about David, his dreams of being a ‘big-time shepherd someday.’  But God had bigger plans for him than shepherding sheep.  David was going to the shepherd king, the one on whom the lineage of Jesus rested.  The song talks about Mary, who dreamed of having a family.

But God had bigger plans for her: raising a king. 

Makes me wonder what kind of dreams God has for me.

dreams 1

Because if I allow myself to really think about it, I do have dreams: Dreams of white dresses and of kids playing in the backyard.  Dreams of teaching and writing and speaking.  Dreams of contributing in a very small way to CF research.  Dreams of loving the next generation to Jesus.

Sometimes I start to wonder if I’m just deluding myself, hoping that these dreams might someday come true.  Sometimes I wonder if dreaming is worth it – if I’m just going to be disappointed.

Because when you’re in the thick of life, when it feels like you’re sinking in the quicksand, straining against the current or stuck in the mud – I find that it’s harder to stay positive, and easier to be cynical and bitter.

But then I come back to this song, Dream For You.  What would happen if I let God dream for me instead?

What if I was just have willing to say, “God, do with me and my life what you will.  I’m willing to live all of my life for you.  Not my will, but yours be done.  Not my dreams, God, but yours.” 

dreams 2

It’s not like my dreams are unrealistic – being a princess or having a castle or being a millionaire.  But in the end, God has a better plan for me than I could ever imagine.  And yes, I hope that some of the things that I dream of will come true someday.  But I’m going to let Him dream for me tonight, and wait and see what He’s got in store.

So come on, let me dream, let me dream for you

I am strong, when you’re weak I will carry you

So let go of your plans, be caught in my hand

I’ll show you what I can do

When I dream for you