Saying Yes: An Overview of my Experience in GSS

For those who don’t know, I’ve been a student for two years at Gateway School of Supernatural (GSS) in Leduc, Alberta. Sounds super weird and I agree with you. Nonetheless, I can’t imagine where I would be had I chosen not to go to this school: it’s definitely one of the best things I’ve ever done. This post is much longer than my usual, but I promise it's worth it. 

When I started GSS, I had just come out of a season of letting all my dreams die. It was the worst experience of my life and lasted about 8 months in total. My heart felt torn and broken, and I felt resigned to a life of disappointment and hope deferred. It was really a miracle I even went: my first response when I heard of GSS was, “That sounds super weird,” and my second was, “There’s no way I’m doing that.”

Part of the reason I was so adamant in saying that was because in my heart I knew that I was going to do exactly that and didn’t want to at all. I was so sure that this was where the Lord wanted me: if there was even a small area of doubt I would have used it as an excuse to get out of it. I remembered back to when I was wishing God would tell me what we were doing next, regretting that I had ever asked at all. I knew he wanted me to walk in the supernatural, in prophecy, spiritual warfare and intercession, but because of negative experiences and lack of understanding I avoided those things like the plague. They were too weird and too out there, too flaky and ungrounded.

The month or so before GSS I finally had peace about it and decided I was excited for it, but the first day in I fully panicked again – there was no way I was ever going to make it through. I spent a lot of time trying to convince the Lord I had better ideas than he did.

Over the next few months, I found myself oscillating between feeling overwhelmed and absolutely loving it. The teaching was not at all what I expected – I thought it would be wishy washy fluffy stuff, but instead there was deep biblical truth that I couldn’t deny. It made me uncomfortable and challenged the way I thought. I’d often prided myself on how well I knew the Word, but suddenly realized how much of what I knew was verbatim information that didn’t stand up to scrutiny. Passages I had completely skimmed over because I didn’t understand them challenged me to rethink my perspective entirely.

The best way to describe those first few months was that it felt like going from a warm kid pool where everything is familiar and comfortable to being shoved off the deep end into shockingly cold water. The initial feeling is just straight panic and confusion as you feel like you’re going to drown – and then, suddenly, you find that someone is holding you up and you can actually swim, though you didn’t know it.

All the theology I had felt like it was completely thrown out and I was going to go straight down the path to who knows what. But instead of sinking as I expected, I found that God himself met me there, challenging me to put my trust in his arm holding me up and not in my carefully constructed theology. Over and over he said to me, “You don’t have to figure it all out. I’m here. I’m holding you, and this is going to be okay. I promise.”

As time progressed I started to love those moments when something would completely blow my mind. Rather than needing to figure it out, I found myself enjoying the wonder of what God was revealing to me and allowing it to lead me to worship. I found that I loved discovering new things – there was always something new God wanted to teach me, and it became an exciting adventure rather than a foundational overhaul. I suppose that is the difference – when we are grounded in who God is, our theology changes as we grow because we trust his nature; but when we are grounded in our mindsets, anything that comes against it will make us defensive and ultimately destroy us -  we never will know it all, and even the things we think we know are often false.

The teaching was only a part of what effected transformation. In the beginning when I disagreed with so much of what was taught, I had only to look at the lives of my leaders to cast doubt on my beliefs. I remember thinking to myself that if these were the things they believed, and that was what their lives looked like as a result, then there must be something to it. I think I can honestly say that I have never seen a group of people so loving, so honest, and so honouring to one another, carrying the peace and the joy of the Lord wherever they went. Of course they have struggles and failures – but that’s the beautiful thing! If their lives look the way they do in spite of those things, it means my life could look like that too. I’ve never been so inspired to reach for the deeper things of God, to stick to the process he has me in and trust his timing, and to fight through everything I’m facing – because whatever the cost, it’s worth it. Because these people were a huge part of my journey, I’m going to bore you all with the things I love about each of them.

The second week of GSS, Landen came up to me and gave me one of his famous hugs, telling me he was so proud of me. I didn’t understand why anyone would be proud of me, let alone someone who saw me like three times in my life and barely knew me, so I asked him why. I’ve never been so taken aback by an answer: “Because you love Jesus.” I’d heard people thank me for dancing, for doing kids ministry, for serving – and though that wasn’t wrong, it made me feel like I should just do those things more. Conversely, this made me feel like I should just love Jesus more! And really, that’s what it does come down to. I can’t count the times I have asked Landen a question and been surprised by the depth of his answer. Where I’ve often received pat answers or shrugs of “Does it really matter?” I’ve instead found myself wiser and challenged in an area I didn’t expect.

My favourite thing about Josh is how he’s constantly in a place of letting his mind be blown by revelation of the gospel and who Jesus is. We as students often joke about his “drunk face” – where he’s just enjoying the goodness of the Lord and worshipping him. He’s always such a safe place to ask questions and explore who God is in Scripture and in life. Especially when our team went to Mexico, I always felt protected and encouraged around him – he’s like a greenhouse for your soul.

Stephane...one of my favourite things about this guy is how he draws out the sarcasm in you. He also loves playing the devil’s advocate and challenging what people believe, not at all taken aback by how anyone may respond. And yet, he’s so gracious and caring - there’s a depth to him where if I was ever struggling through something, he was so supportive and guided me through with wisdom and perception, treating my heart like it’s the most precious thing. He’s a constant rock when it comes to those things.

I used to hate when Kayle would speak at GSS. The experiences he’s had are like nothing I had ever heard before, and there were too many to just brush them off – besides the fact that he himself is so honest and sincere. That guy has seen so much of both the pain and the glory of a life totally sold for Christ. I never knew what to do with it initially; it constantly threw all my thoughts into mayhem, because it didn’t fit into my carefully constructed worldview. And yet, it drew me. There was something so enticing about it, hearing there was so much more available to me in Christ than I had ever dreamed of. On the one hand it was terrifying; on the other I knew I wanted it. I love to hear Kayle’s stories of what God has done, because they’re the story of a man who simply said Yes to God, through whom God works crazy things – and it means I can have that too. It isn’t something I could ever work myself up to; it’s simple obedience to what God asks in a moment. My heart always burns longingly hearing these stories, even if I’ve heard them before. One of my favourite lines from a dream he had is when someone asked him, “Tell us how the revival started, for the world is on fire.” I want so much to be one of those through whom God sets the world on fire.

Throughout GSS, my system of thinking went through a major overhaul. I learned that my mind is a beautiful gift, but it doesn’t get to rule. My understanding doesn’t get to be a prerequisite for obedience, belief, or living in God’s peace. I’ve learned what grace even is, what it means to live in rest, why the gospel really is good news, and how amazing is this life we get to live with God! I’ve learned about how worship is simply the turning of our hearts towards God to enjoy his presence and pour our love back on him who gives so freely – and this means worship can be in everything we do. I’ve learned that the fruit of my relationship with the Lord isn’t the things I strive to produce, but it’s the natural, effortless things that I walk in because of his work in me. I’ve learned that prophecy is simply calling out the gold in people, the things that God sees and values in them - and I’ve found I love doing that almost more than anything.

I’ve learned about who I am: what it means to be a child of God with all the rights of the covenant. I’ve learned the unique ways that God made me who I am, unlike anyone else in the world. There’s nothing that makes you feel so special than to find that God delights in the way that he made you, down to the last detail. My love for discovery, for connecting with people, for worship; the lion-heart that rises up in me when I’m praying for people and fighting for them to be free; even the way that I see things and the way I process – these are all beautiful gifts from the Lord.

More than anything else about GSS, I love how it was a catalyst to pursue the Lord even more. So often when I found myself confronted with things I didn’t know what to do with, I would take them to the Lord to ask for his wisdom and receive from his Spirit. I’ve encountered the peace and love of God on a deeper level than ever before. The sweetest times to me are the ones where I’m simply alone with God, feeling his peace like a heavy blanket over me to the point where I literally can’t worry anymore – it all just gets lost in his overwhelming love. Things I thought I’d never get over and never get past just get washed away like they never existed in the first place. It’s completely inexplicable; it doesn’t make sense how it happens; but the Lord works in such deep places that there are no words for it.

This past year, I’ve also been growing in leadership as I’ve started the dance ministry at Gateway. Like GSS, it’s something I never would have chosen for myself. Unlike a lot of people, I didn't see leadership as something to be desired – it always looked hard and painful, and people are so complicated! As I’ve started walking in it, though, I have begun to see the beauty of leadership – there is something so humbling and precious about how God will use you to transform people’s lives, in spite of your weakness or inadequacy. I love watching those I lead grow in the things God has for them.

 I have also seen the value of leadership that is both a support and a covering as I’ve walked with those in authority over me. I’ve realized how valuable submission is towards people who are so for you that they will do anything to uphold and protect you. As I’ve tentatively stepped out into this new area, I am thankful that I get to learn from people whose leadership I admire so much.

I’ve also really appreciated my classmates from both years. Getting to walk with them and share what God is doing in our lives was such a privilege and so much fun! There’s nothing like inside jokes and crazy God stories to get you through the tough times. I loved learning to lean on other people’s strengths in areas where I’m weak, and to step into my own role in what the Lord has called me to. They challenged me to change my perspective, to love more, and to allow the Lord to shape my life. There’s nothing like being surrounded by world changers when you want to be one yourself. These people are amazing beyond words, and I am stoked to see what their lives look like twenty years from now.

What’s next? Who really knows? I do know this next season will be one of rest – it’s been a crazy roller coaster these last two years, and I feel like this is only a brief pause before the next season of craziness, so I am setting myself to enjoy it thoroughly. I plan to spend more time with the Lord on my own as well as invest in family and friendships. I’ll still be leading the dance ministry at Gateway and being involved in the church in whatever ways I’m able.

Even though GSS has come to a close, I feel like this theme of rest will continue as I learn to live in peace rather than worry. I also have so much to learn about leadership and honestly, I’m a little terrified to see where God will take me in this area. It’s a whole new place for me of learning to trust God not only with my own heart but with the hearts of those I lead, believing that in spite of my weaknesses he will remain faithful both to those people and to me.

I’m so glad God dragged me into GSS, and I’m so glad that this journey is going to launch me into more that he has for me. His dreams for me are way bigger than my own, and as terrifying as that thought is, it’s also super exciting! The crazy thing is that all he wants from me in this is a heartfelt Yes, however tentative, to whatever he sets before me. He does everything else!

On that note, what is God currently asking you to say Yes to? It’s never too late to respond!

Faithful

There was a day, not too many years ago, where I felt that a life of fear was inevitable, and there was no way out. I had this mental picture of myself as a thirty-year-old, lying in bed, afraid of the dark. I remember how hard I cried after I had this image. Since I had lived in fear for so long, it seemed it would never go away. 
I vividly remember the day it started. Eight years old and fascinated by a TV show on exorcisms, I continued to watch long after my brothers left, inexplicably drawn to it. When it ended, I was so terrified I couldn’t even think, and though I tried to read my Bible, the words were dead to me. I lay awake that night, staring up into the darkness, unable to think of anything else but what I had seen.
What was it that scared me? I knew demons were real, just as I knew God was real – there wasn’t a doubt in my mind. And according to what I had seen in the show, being a Christian wasn’t protection from becoming possessed. I was petrified that they would come to get me, and the thought haunting me for nearly ten years.
Through it all, I never told a single person, having believed that if I didn’t tell say out loud what I was afraid of, they wouldn’t know I was scared and come after me. As I grew into my teens, I thought it was a childish fear and that I should get over it already. 
Somewhere I was wise enough to know that only God could keep me safe. I cried out to him many, many times as I lay awake in terror, screaming so loud in my mind that it almost seemed audible. I devoured Scripture; I listened to worship music on my iPod; and I sought God as hard as I knew how. I didn’t know that he was always there, holding me closely, jealously; I didn’t know that he would never let any power take me from him his hands. Sometimes I heard him speak to me, and a peace I hardly knew filled my spirit.
God graciously held my hand all those years; he protected me when I didn’t know it; he was so faithfully there, even when I couldn’t hear.

When I was seventeen, the Lord spoke to me through a stranger at a conference. I will never forget the words: “God has already set you free from your fear, and now you’re just holding on to it.” In my blessed innocence, I took him at his word and decided that if that was the case, I was simply going to let go of it and never take it up again. So I did. And whenever it would come up again, I would tell myself I couldn’t be afraid because I left fear at a random church in nowheresville, Ontario, and I was never going back there. 

Graciously, the Lord allowed me to be in denial of the demonic for several years, as I didn’t know what else to do with it. Perhaps he knew I needed time to heal before confronting it again – which I did, in an encounter where (after we had prayed and it left) I discovered my roommate had been possessed. I was so thrown off by it I didn’t know what to do, so again, I left it with God. 

And gently, ever so gently, he has led me to a place where fear is so far behind that it doesn’t seem real any more. He has led me to a place of triumph where I am now able to release others from demonic oppression through my prayers. And there isn’t a shred of fear in my heart! (Isn't God amazing?!?) I know who my Father is, and I know I’m his daughter. The weapons formed against me have not prevailed, and I now use those very weapons against what used to scare me. I live in peace; I fight for love; and I know that I have the victory through Jesus (and did I mention I'm only twenty-two?)

May you be encouraged, dear friends. Know that in whatever you walk through, there is victory; there is a light on the other side - I've seen it. Cling to the promises he has given, and know that you are not alone. No matter how deep our darkness, he is deeper still; and even if we are faithless, he remains faithful - for he cannot disown himself. 




You no longer have to live as a slave because you are a child of God. - Galatians 4:7

Community

This post is more of a rant than a well-constructed thought. I apologize in advance if it's a bit scattered. Sometimes my brain works like that. I also apologize for the language, but not enough that I'm taking it off.

Also, I know the end is rather depressing, but that's just where I'm at. I don't have a catchy one-liner to close. I just hope that maybe it will speak to some of you, and at the very least get you thinking.



I’m sick of church (not just my church, either). I’m tired of pretending, and it seems like every Sunday I go it’s harder to pretend. But I’m too scared to fall apart, because I know what happens when people see someone fall apart – nothing. Nothing at all. I could be at the front crying my heart out, and people would just sit there, for the most part. (And if I'm being honest, it feels weird when people offer to pray for me in those times.) Then after my emotional breakdown is over, I talk to people like it never happened. Like my heart isn’t broken. Like I’m not crying inside. And it would be weird if I did talk about it.
It feels so one-sided. I feel like one of the few people at church that actually would let myself fall apart (though not too much). But isn’t that what the church is for? Broken people? So why do we pretend? Why do I pretend?
Because I’m scared. I’m scared of the reaction I know I’ll get – silence. Or when people ask, what do you say? “My life’s falling apart”? “I want to die but no I’m not suicidal”?
Someone asked me today if I was okay. I said yes. But inside I was like, “No, I’m not and I want to tell you everything that’s on my heart and why life is too hard” – but she was on her way out the door and I was halfway through another conversation – so what do you do? What do you say?
On the flipside, how do I talk to other people who are letting themselves fall apart in church? It’s almost like people assume that’s just how certain people ‘worship’ or something. Do other people even recognize their own brokenness? Are they too scared to show it? And how can we cultivate that honesty?
Maybe it’s starts with God. Maybe it starts with us being honest with God. When we let ourselves fall apart in his presence, maybe gradually we learn its okay to fall apart with other people, and let them hold us up.
But…will they hold us up? What if they don’t?
Sometimes I don’t feel like I am supported. Sometimes I feel like I put my whole heart on display in a worship service, and then – nothing. Is anyone else inspired? Is anyone else desperately in need of prayer?
Sometimes I wonder if I look like as much of an idiot as I feel. Do people ever look at me and be glad they aren’t me? Or do they think I’m putting on a show? Do they ignore me completely because they don’t want to look at their own brokenness? Or because it’s weird? (When did it become weird to express ourselves honestly?)
I know other people are just as broken as I am – but it doesn’t seem that way. God, lift my eyes from my own mess enough to recognize and acknowledge the struggles of others. To carry them the way I want to be carried.
Why do I feel like I suffer alone? I’m not the only one who cries every second day, am I? Surely other people are so overwhelmed by life's struggles that they just check out and watch tv, or endlessly scroll through facebook posts (which have already been read twice). But what is there to be done?
Often during those times when I feel most upset, I think, I should call someone. Or text someone. Or something. But then I think – what’s the point? Tomorrow will come, and I’ll be crying again. By myself. I’ll still be in this on my own.
We talk about doing life together. As small groups, “We want to do life together.” What the hell is that supposed to mean? I see them twice a week for a few hours. That’s about two percent of my life. And even if I go out with someone different every night of the week, that’s still not even half.
So I’m being unrealistic, because how are you supposed to literally do life with people 24/7? I swear if I knew the answer I’d proclaim it to the world.
But what is church supposed to be? Refreshing? I get more refreshment being alone with God. “To be in community” – what? for two hours a week? when I sing songs with other people and hear a sermon? (as much as I love those). The only community I get on Sunday morning – real community – is when I get to hear what’s on someone’s heart or when I get to share what’s on mine. For ten minutes. And then we say goodbye and head back to normal life. Where you live and walk alone.
I know, I need a family. Shit, don’t we all? But it doesn’t help much to say things like that unless arranged marriages are making a comeback.
I’m lonely. I’m broken. I need more of God. I need more community.
But how?
Maybe I should just give up and wait till heaven. Then everything will be perfect. Just cry my way through life, put on my happy face when I need to, and try and do what God asks me to as best I can, and hope there are joy spots on the way.

Wow Satan’s done a pretty good job of keeping the church isolated from one another. What are we going to do about it? What am I going to do about it?
Nothing.
Just going to let the thief keep stealing. Keep taking. Because why bother? Nothing’s going to change. This is the way it is. May as well plod through life and hope Jesus comes soon.

Waiting

Lately, it seems as if my life is in a sort of stand-still. I'm not in school, not pursuing my dreams, and not making a whole lot of cash either. I've often felt like a failure in every way one could look at it, because I'm not doing what I want or what society expects from a young adult.

But I'm being obedient. Not with humility, mind you, and not without a lot of yelling directed heavenward. Yet as I've fought, submitted, despaired, and fought again, torn between my desires and His, I've begun to see that even though from my perspective it doesn't seem like anything is growing, there is something happening.

Often when life has us stuck in one spot, we are simply putting forth roots.

This is an expression of my experience during this season of waiting.


Dead
     nothing growing
     long overdue
     no leaves
     no flowers
     no fruit
                    Chop it down

Wait
     it's alive
     it's growing
     getting stronger
     inside
     invisible
                    Putting forth roots

Rain
     bring clouds
     no sunshine
     for now
     darkness
     sorrow
                    Grow firm roots

Sun
     it will come
     not yet
     first strong roots
     then leaves
     then sun
                    Wait for sun

Growth
     flowers will bloom
     glorious unfolding
     replaced by fruit
     growing slowly
     then at last
                    Produce a hundredfold



"The seed on good soil stands for those with a noble and good heart, who hear the word, retain it, and by persevering produce a crop." -Luke 8:15
see also Luke 13:6-9; Matt 13:23

Vulnerable

I spend so much time and thought trying to build a complete picture of me, my life, and God. To be able to summarize it all in a few sentences that completely capture the essence and purpose of everything, in a way that I completely know all there is to know about all of it. And then, when I know it all, I can fix it all – starting with my own broken self.

And I try to get God to come along with me on this journey of obtaining control. But he doesn’t give a rip about this all-consuming purpose of mine – no, he wants to take it away - “Surrender” is the command. But I have excuses – oh so many. Countless reasons to hold on to my life the way I want it. Still he doesn’t care because he knows, oh he knows my heart.

Way deep down, there are parts of myself that I have hidden so well and so long ago I don’t even know what’s there. All I have is a faint recollection that I mustn’t ever let anyone see those things. I had built these walls (pretty good ones, if I do say so myself) to cover those things up, and I made them look so real that they just blend in. You would never know they were there.

But God – God knows. He knows I’m hiding. And his voice calls out to me the same way he called long, long ago to those first broken people in the garden, the way he calls to each of his children: “Where are you?”

And I don’t even know - Where did I put myself?

Yet he knows, and I know that he knows, and that he will find me if I let him. Only I’m scared and I don’t even know why.

Vulnerability is a word that we are using more and more – and for good reason. The word itself seems to knock on your heart’s door and request entry. Synonyms include susceptible, weak, defenseless, helpless, exposed, in danger. We know that being vulnerable is a good thing, but kind of in the same way we know that we shouldn’t eat junk food – who actually does it besides a few health nuts? And this attitude makes sense – who wants to feel defenseless or exposed?

A few weeks ago I was on a footbridge and impulsively decided to climb over the rail to sit on the cement right on the edge of the bridge. It wasn’t completely irrational because there was this huge thick cable where the suspension cable swooped down in the middle of the bridge.

By far, the scariest part was going over. In my mind, I thought briefly that I might die if I slipped or let go too soon or lost my balance. But I did it anyways, because I figured “Yolo,” and I sat down on the edge there, with the eight-inch-thick cable right up against my chest and my arms over it, staring at my feet dangling above the frozen river, hoping I wouldn’t lose a boot.

As I was sitting there, my mind kept wavering between “This is so cool!” and “I’m going to die!” even though the suspension cable held me safely. I kept sitting there because of the wonder of it, despite my fear. It was exhilarating.

This is what vulnerability is like – sitting on the edge, dangling there, hoping we don’t die, and yet knowing we won’t because of the cable of God’s love that is holding us there, as safe as we ever were on the other side of the rail. This is where God is calling us: to climb over the rail we put up (which is the scariest part of all) and then to sit down and let ourselves be held by the love of God.

And there, in that place of exposing ourselves to everything, we find that the only thing we are in danger from is the all-encompassing love that the Father has for his beloved children, and he holds everything else at bay.

But. Am I willing to let him find me? To let him love me? I know he’s good, and yet – do I want him to see the parts of my heart that I hide?

Does he know my shame? Does he know what I’ve done? Does he know the hidden things that I don’t even know?

Do I want his healing? Do I want to feel the brokenness I know is inside? Do I want to feel the pain of it again?

Can I trust him?

And I know - the answers are all Yes.

So I stare at the rail, trying to muster up the courage to climb. I can’t do it alone.

Knowing this, he calls me to let go of my self-made image and to open myself to those around me, to let them see the brokenness, the weakness, the fear that for so long I have buried. He calls me to take the hands of my brothers and sisters, so that we can journey together over the rail to expose our sins and wounds before our Father and find the forgiveness and healing we so desperately need.

Yolo.

Homesick

It doesn’t really make sense to feel homesick when you’re at home.

I grew up in this place, with these people. Seven brothers, one sister, both my parents, and my wonderful church family. I love them, and I love the kids that I’ve been taking care of at the daycare. But there’s a different family that I miss.

I came back to Edmonton in April after doing a six month Discipleship Training School (DTS) with YWAM in Vancouver. While I was away, I lived with nineteen people I had never met before, who came from different cultures and backgrounds. It was hard to transition, and I did miss my church and family. Somehow though, I got used to it, learning to understand people who think and act differently, and to love them because of and not in spite of it. After three months of bible-based teaching, eighteen of us left for Southeast Asia, specifically Thailand and Indonesia. We were with each other day and night for three months straight, working through every challenge that came our way and doing it all by God’s grace.

This support system, this family that I never had before, changed and challenged me in so many ways. I thrived in that encouraging environment of people with the same goal, to love God and love others. And we did learn to love in ways we hadn’t before. We learned that we were able to step out far beyond what we thought we could do, and to put up with much more than we thought we could handle. It seemed like every day God was teaching us something new, and although that was hard, we did it.

At the end of it all, it was strange to see everyone go their separate ways. When people left with their suitcases, some to the airport and others to various places throughout the city, it was this strange moment that I couldn’t really grasp as reality. Of course they would come back. It seemed I was forever stuck with these people. And even when the shock of it hit me that night, somehow I was convinced that in a week or two we’d all be back together and laugh about how tough that time was. It’s been a hard journey since then, trying to figure out how to live again in what has been referred to as the “real world,” “normal life,” or life “outside the incubator” that was our school - and the hardest thing about it is the lack of constant support. Still, I am learning to adapt to this life (although sometimes I wonder if maybe that environment can become a reality in “normal life” – but that’s another blog post).

When people ask me about DTS, I often list off events: things we did, things God did. Sometimes I talk about what I learned. But when people ask me about my team, that’s when I get excited. Because all those events are in the past and I can’t bring them back, but those amazing people are still alive, and God is still working through them. Each one of my teammates has unique qualities and passions - no one else could fill their shoes or accomplish the purposes God has for them. So when I talk about them, it’s like I can see into the future, where God uses them to bring light into the darkness in specific areas like only they can.

And so because of their built-in awesomeness and the intimacy we shared, I miss them, my home for six months. But just like I can’t bring back those events from DTS, I can’t bring back my teammates either. Instead, I just pray for God’s purpose to be accomplished in them, and I hope that at some point in the future, I will be able to hang out with them again, to laugh about inside jokes and talk about the amazing things God is accomplishing through us.