Changing locations!

I'm changing my blog/ website to www.allisonzupet.wordpress.com. Check it out! It's going to be well good. (:

xx
Allie Rae

iCal revelation.

OH WHAT. Looking back on my calendar, I can hardly believe how all of this happened. I’ve been realizing that when I can’t do things in my own efforts, that’s when God shows His power big time.
Let me recap a little bit:

Right now I am being trained to be a certified Global Primary Health Care worker at one of the biggest YWAM bases in the world. Kind of a sweet deal. I’m on a school with 9 other people, and together we make up 8 different nations. 

2 months ago, I was in Phoenix, freaking out and wrestling with the idea of becoming a full-fledged missionary, which still scares the crap out of me... following God to the nooks and crannies of the earth sounds fun though so I decided that I'd be up for it.

9 months ago I began a new journey with Jesus in Newcastle, Australia, meeting some of the greatest people in the entire world. The main focus of this Discipleship Training School was to know God and make Him known. I had no idea what I was getting into. Those 5 months were the beginning of something so much bigger than myself, and God was real with me. He tore down every idea I ever had about Him and rebuilt His character in a truthful, powerful way. While doing this, He also called me into following Him seriously and not half way – living a life of faith that I have no control of. But man, I found out that it all is so worth it. 

One year ago, I got a new passport. Since then, that new passport has seen many communities, many cities, and 4 different nations.

One year, one month, 2 weeks, and 1 day ago I had lunch with Taylor Kline, who told me about this crazy organization called YWAM that sends people into the world to transform lives for Jesus.

Exactly one year, one month, 2 weeks, and 3 days ago I got a call from APU. They informed me that I wasn’t able to attend the university of my dreams that started in a week because of a denied loan, something very odd.

A year and a half ago I graduated high school and made my own 5-year plan with Azusa Pacific University to become a trauma-specialized nurse and then maybe go into missions later.

2 years and 5 months ago, I worked at a Young Life camp for a month. I met a girl named Taylor Kline.

2 years and 6 months ago, I felt God call me to be a missionary – to change peoples’ lives for the greater, and to bring freedom and life eternally.

Exactly 4 years and 6 months ago on April 16, 2006, I slumped into Calvary Community Church in Phoenix and plopped down in a chair placed somewhere near the back of the room. A man with dark hair and a genuine glow came up and spoke with vibrant words about a God who was perfectly loving and kind, and who had the power to forgive me for everything that I missed perfection in – something I knew I couldn’t ever achieve. I felt him reading the pages of my life even though I had never shook his hand.

He said Jesus could wash me clean, not like Tide on a grass-stained sundress, but internally to give me a fresh, pure soul in place of my battered one. I had never heard anything like it and adored the idea of standing rightly before a God so good. I didn’t know Jesus, but I knew for some reason that He likes me and I yearned to know Him. I declared Jesus Christ as Lord of my life that night, and was baptized with my older brother to solidify my commitment to this beloved Savior King.

Five years ago, I rebelled against every system.

Five years ago I had no idea that I would be where I am. Five years ago I didn’t know the glory of God, or even the knowledge of Him. I hated everything, had a heart of stone, and had no dreams about life.

And five years ago God still saw hope and life when He looked at me. He saw adventure, faith, and fullness of joy. He knew exactly how He was going to orchestrate every detail for every minute of my life in the years following my rebellion, and He still knows know where He’s going to take me in the decades to come.

So for you don’t think God works miracles anymore… think again.

Pride is an ugly monster of a thing.

I feel that my thoughts are scattered and confused with my slightly overwhelmed heart. I can’t be thankful enough, I can’t possibly wrap my head around this feeling of grace, this feeling of being freed in the midst of my wrongs. Let me explain.

For months in Australia and Mozambique, I thought that coming back to Phoenix would be a time of pouring out – a time of building others up, but it has been the polar opposite… God has been tearing me down: stripping the layers of self-knowledge, and pulling back the veneer of self-gratification that kept me at a comfortable distance from my family and friends so that they wouldn’t see the vulnerable, guard less, still entirely flaw-filled at the core, me. That layer, that polish, that wall… is pride, and it is the ugliest fat beast I have ever seen. It breeds shame. It causes hostility toward people I long to love; it plants a root of bitterness in my core because I think I am better. I think I am stronger. I think I am wiser. I think I have the right to hold myself in a higher esteem above everyone because I am what I am and they should deal with it. And if they don’t understand, then who cares about them. If they don’t understand this hierarchy I have made, then, well, they’re worthless. This is the very thing that I hate in my nature: self-righteousness that steers my heart more often than humility and love.

Jesus said to consider myself below all people for the sake of them knowing Him and His perfect Kingship; to be their servants, to be humble and gentle to reflect the face of a King who didn’t have to, but chose to be lowly to meet us in our lowly state. He asks for me to be soft-hearted yet strong in His power. He asks me to not be my own, but His. My self-righteousness only got me as far as my own face, and broke not only my heart but also those around me, and most importantly, my Dad’s.

And then there were tears.

God makes beautiful masterpieces out of ashes, but not out of self-made pillars. So He broke. He bent. He met me, softly spoke, and conquered the madman of pride that was slowly wreaking havoc on my relationship with Him and with others. He wouldn’t have that, so He tore down the pillar of me that I had built up, all for the sake of me knowing His character, His love, and His plan. The persistency of God astounds me. Seriously, I frustrate the crap out of myself sometimes; I can’t imagine how God must shake His head at my moments and still be patient with me. Oh man, I’m a handful.

I also have been falling in love with the act of repentance. Especially today. Not just repenting in solitude before God, even though that’s sick, but to those whom I have wronged. Admitting I’m imperfect is truly a glorious thing. Like, I can just see Jesus sitting in front of the shattered pieces of a mirror, rubbing His hands together as He smiles and thinks of how He is going to place it back together perfectly.

I am a fool for thinking that I was all done with being broken and reshaped. God is refining my character like it’s a golden staff with smudges and dings – it still has the substance of gold, but needs the fixing touch of the refiner.

There was a strong bond that broke within me today. A weight lifted, a spiritual depth released. All because of humility. All because of love. All because I obeyed the small, persistent voice inside of me that said to humble myself before this man, before my family, before my selfish ideals, and say that I’m sorry and that I forgive him.

Praise God for being more than willing to forgive and for lavishing His grace on us in a way that is so beautiful.

Something very real and brilliant happens when we are manifested with that same forgiveness toward others; our pride breaks, we become meek and gentle-spirited… We take on the attitude of our Lord and a deep unity is created between Him and us. To me, it feels like running in a field of yellow daisies with the blue sky and a lot of big clouds and the warm sun and a breeze that sings. It’s freeing.

Seventy times seven is a lot. But an entire record of sin and pride is a whole lot more. I am drenched in this forgiveness, and that proud beast in my heart no longer has a place. Bam!