Transition and Airport Terminals

Seasons of transition often remind me of long layovers in airport terminals. For a pocket of time, we're aliens in a city that is neither home nor our destination. We've made progress on our trip, but we still have much more to travel. We're in passage, in transit, in stationary motion. We stand looking out from the airport window at the planes taxing the runway, touching down for landing, or taking off into the sunset. We long for the next leg of our journey, but as we glance at the ticking clock on the sterile wall, we know time is forcing us to wait.

People are in constant activity all around us, walking hurriedly from one gate to another. They've come from all points of the world: Dallas, Cairo, Amesterdam, Paris, Katmandu, London, Los Angeles. Like colored markers crisscrossing lines on a blank sheet of paper, the crowds intersect at various gates throughout the terminal. Some are carrying small children on shoulders, others are sporting Armani suits or BCBG handbags. Families huddle close for comfort, while the lone traveler listens to alternative beats flowing through little white earbuds. All are participants in this game of air travel, and each must bide his time in the waiting zone.

This waiting isn't an easy roll of the dice. At first, we find adventure in the unknown. Curiosity baits our attention, and we stroll from coffee bar to retail store, sipping our lattes while looking for duty-free items. Momentarily, we feel freedom from our previous confinement in an airplane seat. The muscles in our legs and back uncurl from the torture of prolonged sitting. Our lungs fill with fresh oxygen, our stomachs find food that doesn't taste like cardboard. But after we've had our fill of stretching, shopping, and meandering, the adventure begins to wear thin. Tired and wearisome from the hours already invested in traveling, we start counting down the hours until we can leave this place.

Upon arrival at our gate, we find an available chair, plunk ourselves down, and begin the tortuous session of waiting. We try to amuse ourselves with people-watching, reading, and listening to our IPods, but as time drags on, we get restless, figety, and bored. Depending on how many time zones our bodies have already crossed during our journey, we may become irritable. Now sleep deprived and disoriented from international travel, we begin to lose perspective. Tempted to grumble and complain, we keep our distance from other travelers. All we want is to leave, to get back on our journey, to make progress towards our destination.

It is at this moment of weariness and anxiety that we are given the choice to maintain a good attitude. Our plane will leave at the desingated time whether we are cheerful or sullen during the layover. However, the process of our journey and the value we extract from it depends on the attidude we choose to maintain. The trip can be fun and exciting, or loathsome and annoying. Our attitude in the waiting makes all the difference.

During a layover, the only thing we control is our attitudes and behaviors. We don't decide when our plane arrives or departs and we don't choose our gate number. We're at the mercy of the airport and airline governance. We're on their turf, and we can rest assured they are doing their best to move us safely from departure to destination.

In life's transition seasons, the rules of the game are not much different. Sometimes, we find ourselves sitting in blue plastic chairs waiting for our scheduled departure time. Since certain things are out of our hands, it is with enduring patience and trust we place ourselves in the hands of the Father. He's working things out for us, scheduling our incoming and outgoing flights, directing our steps, and orchestrating the minutest details of our journey. We can bide our time in the airport terminal in peace and joy, or we can make ourselves miserable with frustration and anxiety. It's up to us to choose how we spend our time in this confined season of life.

Inevitably, the hands of the clock draw closer to the designated time for departure. Our plane taxies onto the runway in front of our gate. The wide doors to the walkway open, and an attnedant's voice beeps in over the intercom. "Ladies and Gentelemen, flight 787 to the next season in your life has now arrived. We will be boarding in 5 minutes." Smiling with relief, we gather our belongings and make our way to the front of the gate. Tired and expectant, we take our place in line. The attendant reaches out for our ticket, tears it, and returns the stub to us. "Welcome aboard," she glances at us, "Enjoy your flight."  We adjust our carryon and take the first steps onto the walkway leading us to the next flight of our journey. Our waiting season has come to an end, and now it's time to fly.

To Tulsa With Love

Tulsa, Oklahoma...the heart of the midwest, the capital of the Bible belt, the center of tornado alley. Home of the Tulsa Drillers, TU Golden Hurricanes, ORU Golden Eagles, and one of the few cities in America where a high school football game attracts 30,000 spectators. It's cold and icy in the winter, hot and humid in the summer, and vulnerable to allergins in the fall and twisters in the spring. Every quadrant of the city has its own specialty - churches line nearly every corner in the south, bullets from gang members pierce the dark nights in the north, ethnic groups flavor the neigborhoods of the east, and rednecks drive trucks in the west. Our city is a curious mix of the young, the old, the cultured, the poor, the student, and the professional. It is a collection of locals who've been here since birth and outsiders who stop by on their way to some place else. It is too small for some, too large for others, too south for the Northerners, and too north for the Southerners. Yet somehow, depsite its triple-digit summer heat and double digit humidity, Tulsa has been a place to call home for so many of us...even if we're just passing through.



For most of us outsiders who have called Tulsa home, it's not for rational reasons. My big city friends are too cultured for its small home feel, and my small town friends are inhibited by its mid-city size. Yet, we all moved here...willingly...even if for a year of our lives. What is it then, about this seemingly boring midwestern town that draws so many people into its borders? It's certainly not the weather, the landscape, or its lack of glamour. What it is about this city that makes men and women from all over the world literally pack up their belongings and MOVE to this slightly progressive, yet quaint city?



Opportunity.



Yes, Tulsa is a city rich in opportunity. But it is not opportunity in the usual, materialistic context. It is opportunity of a spiritual kind. Opportunity of advancement. Opportunity to grow, to learn, to become something better than what we were before we came. Opportunity to connect, opportunity to be trained, prepared, and launched into a destiny. It is a city of deep spiritual heritage that plants indelible seeds upon the soil of our hearts. We come here to soak up what others have learned, to be taught by the experts, to grow in our understanding of personal giftings and callings, and to be sent out across the world to give out of the very seeds planted in this city. This city is indeed like no other, for it holds a special place in the seasons of our lives.

I've been a citizen of Tulsa for an entire decade now and have had the most wonderful opportunity to be part of some of the most amazing institutions of this city. What brought me here as a 19-year old fresh-faced missionary girl from Paris was the opporunity to gain a college education in a Spirit-filled university. There are many great Christian universities in America, but nothing can quite compare to Oral Roberts University. Dotted with gold-plated domes and punctuated by eternal flames, this futuristic-looking campus may hold small esteem in the eyes of the world. But to me, this university is a priceless thread woven into the fabric of my existence.

As a missionary kid on the European field, I had spent the majority of my teenage years witnessing to atheistic classmates about Jesus. No one in my school had hardly ever seen a Bible, much less been to a real church. I was often the focus of perplexion and discussion among my peers. As an expatriote, I hadn't felt a feeling of belonging in years. Yet the moment I stepped onto the grounds of the ORU campus, my heart had come home. I still remember the first chapel service I ever attended as a freshman - thousands of shiny, youthful faces filled the auditorium as worship music echoed in the air. Suddenly, I didn't feel alone in the world as a Christian...an entire college campus was singing praises to a God I knew! What a safe, safe place to call home.

During the four years of my university studies, I had built friendships, learned from wise professors, spread my wings as a writer and as a young adult, and garnished a lifetime of memories. I graduated with a Journalism degree that has proved vital to my blossoming freelance business. I owe much of who I have become and what I have learned to this university and to its founder, Dr. Oral Roberts.

So to ORU and Oral Roberts, I would like to say thank you. What courage it must have required to step out into the void of Spirit-filled Christian higher education and build a university based on God's authority and the Holy Spirit. From your classes and professors, I've learned how to become a better writer and a better communicator. With these skills, I will go where God's voice is heard small, His light is seen dim, and His power is not known. Thank you for stepping out in faith and obeying God. Even when it wasn't easy, even when the media mocked and scorned, even when the mandate of building a respected university seemed impossible, you forged ahead in obedience and unfettered faith. You gave me an opportunity to grow in my art and impact the world around me. I have learned so much from your example and hope to make you proud.

After graduating from this great university, I went on to pursue ministry training at Rhema. For two years, I was immersed in preparation for the pastoral ministry, a calling I've known since childhood. During that season, I had some of the greatest intense personal times with the Lord, met some of my best friends, and learned valuable lessons for my future. My life would not be complete without that special opportunity.

And so to Rhema Bible Training Center and Bro. Kenneth E. Hagin, I would also like to offer my heartfelt gratitude for the opportunity you gave me to grow and learn. Bro. Hagin, I have grown up on your message of faith since I was a kid. Your books and tapes are a continual source of truth for me, and I appreciate your faithfulness in the minstry. Your legacy of the Word and the Spirit have been the bedrock foundation of my spiritual growth, and I promise to take what I have learned and be the laborer God has called me to be. My feet will be part of the tramping sound you heard. Thank you for your obedience to fulfill the will of God and grant believers like myself the opportunity to be trained for our God-given assignment. You are one of the people I would most like to meet on the other side of eternity.

About two years ago, I had the unique opportunity to take a few classes at Victory Bible Institute and to volunteer weekly at the Tulsa Dream Center. Both of these institutions were founded by Pastor Billy Joe and Sharon Daughtery and have been another huge investment in my life. I will never see the lost, broken, and hurting the same way again.

So to Pastor Billy Joe and Sharon, and all the facets of Victory Christian Center, I would like to say thank you for your compassion, your vision, your dedication, and your heart to serve our city. Few other people in Tulsa have given their all to make an impact in the lives of its citizens like you. Your church, your vision, and your ministry have been a beacon of hope and light to the lost and broken in this city. Thank you so much for your labor of love and for your beautiful example of outreach. Without this opportunity to learn from you, I know something would be missing from my life. May we continue to pass on the simple love of Jesus to a broken and dying world.

Finally, during my sojourn in Tulsa, I have had the wonderful opportunity to call World Outreach Church my home. This has been the center of all that I've done and experienced in this city. When I graduated from school, lost a job, or moved away, this church has been the solid rock to lean on. It is my church family, my protective covering, my correction, and my launching pad. Throughout the years, WOC is the place where I've made dozens of friends, taught preschoolers, prayed with others, helped in the offices, and learned from some of the greatest pastors in the world. This has been one of the most treasured opportunities I've encountered in Tulsa.

And so to World Outreach Church and Pastors Mark and Janet, I would like to say how much I dearly love and appreciate the opportunity you have given me to grow as a sheep. What a place of safety, refuge, and connection. I owe my love of missions and my deep hunger for the things of God to you. You have inspired in so many a vision to reach the nations of the world with the Word and the Spirit, and I know my life would not be the same without your influence. Thank you for being a good pastor and a church to call home...even for those of us who've come from so many places, we don't know really where we're from! You have been the base for my resting place.

And so dear Tulsa, I owe so much to you. Like every other person who has come to your city of light and life, I have gained more from just being here within your borders. I am thankful to have called this place home for so many years. Despite your ice storms, tornado sirens, sweltering humidity, 71st street traffic jams, and current massive road construction, I love you so much. You've been the place of so many memories, friends, and life experiences. I know someday soon, we'll have to bid our farewells, for it will be time to do exactly what I came here to do....to leave. I have fed from your precious soil, grown in the deep earth of your opportunity, and will sow into others from the life I have received. And maybe that's what makes Tulsa so special for so many of us....it's only home because it is the base of our comings and goings. We come here and then do what this city asks of us in so many ways....to leave, taking the soil of this great place with us.