Missions Emphasis Month Speech

Today, I gave a speech at my Church (First Baptist, Tulsa) because I was asked to be one of the speakers for October’s mission’s emphasis month. They wanted me tell about my personal testimony as well as my heart for missions. And I now feel that the Lord is leading me to also put my speech in a blog post since I don’t know all the people who read my blog and it could influence somebody.

So dear reader, I hope this speaks to your heart:

Hello church, I know what you may be thinking; this girl is young. Well, I am! I’m Karlie Tipton and I am an 18-year-old missionary.  You may be thinking “hmm, missionary?” I’m a girl who loves Jesus and is willing to share her personal testimony of how powerful He is. And I believe that does make me a missionary.

I accepted Christ in middle school, but it wasn’t till my high school years that I really began to follow God. Something happened in my life that dramatically changed it forever.  During my freshman year, my father passed away unexpectedly. This was a time of grief but also a time of healing. I didn’t begin to see God in the situation until I attended Falls Creek that summer. It was then that I started to realize that God had me on this earth for a reason, and that he had a purpose for me. I rededicated my life to the Lord that summer, and along with the rededication I also received another calling—the Holy Spirit was prompting me to become a missionary.

Since I had this calling to be a missionary, I prayed that the Lord would provide me opportunities in my high school years to advance the gospel. The first big opportunity arose when I went on a spring break trip my junior year to Leon, Mexico. On this trip, I learned to share Jesus’ story as well as my own testimony.  We went from house to house knocking on doors to share, and I experienced life-changing events in front of me. I began to see how the Lord used my words to reach his sons and daughters.

That following summer, I also went on a mission trip to China. Because of the political restrictions there, sharing my testimony was a little more difficult, but that’s where the sharing the gospel in Mexico helped me. This is where I got to really see my personal testimony be used for the Lord. One day when my group was walking up to a Buddhist temple, a Chinese teen was asking me questions about Jesus. I shared with her the crucifixion story along with my personal testimony about my father. I told her that God sent my dad and me a savior so that I may see him again in heaven. She would not stop asking questions and eventually came to the conclusion that she wanted the Lord in her heart. With tears in her eyes she finished the prayer and proclaimed, “I have Jesus!”  At that moment I knew I was following the Lord’s plan for me.

This year I traveled to Guatemala. I was able to share my testimony to many believers and non-believers there and the Lord revealed many things to me through that experience. He showed me that while my circumstances may be different that the Guatemalans, the Mexicans, and the Chinese, we all have one thing in common: we were created in the image of God and made to give him glory.  And regardless of age, race, or gender, we all share the same calling to honor God and to share his story with others.

I tell you all these things to show that every one of you is a missionary for God, no matter who you are or where you are. When we  share our lives with others and show how God’s story changes our story, he will bless that.  It doesn’t matter if I am in Tulsa, in my dorm at OBU, or halfway around the world, he can use my testimony to speak to others.

 Each of you have a personal testimony that the Lord will use if you allow him. And I can speak from experience that God can use our circumstances for his good. While one could look at my family situation and see it as a loss, I can see it as a gain. I have gained a passion for Christ and God also used the circumstance of my father passing away for a Chinese girl halfway across the world to find life.

So now I am preparing for a mission trip to India the summer 2012. I am going to be working with girls rescued from sex trafficking and showing them basic life skills that they never had an opportunity to learn. So while I welcome to your support, most of all I need your prayers. I know with prayer the Lord will do powerful things over there.

            I want to end with a verse that I remember every time I share my testimony:

1 Corinthians 15:55

“O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?”

Church our God is alive. Let’s go proclaim it.

Thanks for reading!

Karlie

A Time For Everything

AUTHOR’S NOTE: My great-grandmother passed away earlier this year. This past weekend I traveled to her farm in Fairland, Oklahoma where my family and I sorted some of her belongings. While she lived a long life and is now in heaven, the hard part about this weekend was reminiscing on old stories and recognizing how I have taken them for granted. I have been too busy looking towards everything in the future that I have neglected to appreciate the past and present. It was almost as if God spoke to me and said, “Daughter, I have given you this life for a reason, and by cherishing all the little moments of this life you are also cherishing me.” So that’s what I’m trying to do with this post.

Years ago, a train whistle blew from the distance and my father enthusiastically grabbed my hand and told me to follow him to the front yard of my great grandmother’s farm.  He hurriedly sat in the green grass and patted for me to sit next to him. He then pointed to the railroad tracks.  I sat and looked at the gaps between the distant trees toward which he was pointing. I saw that it was the train whose whistle blew.

My dad then told me to count how many freight cars I see behind the locomotive. We both counted and told each other the number of carts we saw. And of course, we laughed because by the end we both had different numbers. My dad then continued to tell me how when he was younger he had a great love for trains. Back then, every time a train whistle would blow, he would either immediately run down to the train tracks or just sit in the front yard to watch. 

This past weekend I was able to entertain old memories of my father, my grandmother, great-grandmother and others. I got the chance to share with other family members about different times when my dad took me to the Fairland farm. I got to discuss how I always loved going because every time I was able to experience something new–different adventures like picking out a fish from the koi pond, or running through the corn crops in the field, or going through all the old antiques stored in the attic. (To a kid that is very exciting stuff! ) So while I was sharing my stories, I found it nice that my family shared theirs about my father and grandmothers.  And subtly as we sorted through the old stuff and memories I found that we were unknowingly creating new ones. During the weekend, I got to make some great apple pie with the old kitchen utensils used by many generations of my family, play the ukulele that my great-grandmother played at many churches, and even see a silent movie at the Coleman Theater with my great aunts. In my eyes, the Fairland farm has always been such a beautiful and adventurous place, but this past weekend it developed an even richer persona.

While driving back to OBU that Sunday night, I was able to think about the remembrances I have had at that darling Fairland farm throughout my life. And the more I thought about the memories created there, the more I realized that it wasn’t that strip of land that developed these good times; it was my family. The people I love most have made that place worthwhile. While my family has lost some individuals that make dwelling on the memories sometimes difficult, I try to focus on the good and be thankful for the privilege of having a family and such memories.

So when I think about it, my great grandma lived in that house for 63 years so there must have been many good and bad seasons there. But in the end regardless of good and bad times, a lot of life was lived on that farm. And I am so thankful for that.

So if you were wondering why I started with the story about the train and my father, it is one my most cherished memories; it included both my favorite person and place. So I am now taking this moment to practice what I preach and appreciate it.

I wanted to end on a passage that I was reminded about this weekend.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

A Time for Everything

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot, 
 

a time to kill and a time to heal, 
   

a time to tear down and a time to build, 


a time to weep and a time to laugh, 
  

a time to mourn and a time to dance, 
 

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, 
  

a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

a time to search and a time to give up, 
 

a time to keep and a time to throw away, 
 

a time to tear and a time to mend, 
  

a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate, 
   

a time for war and a time for peace.

There are going to be times for everything. So just as my dad was excited about making sure that every freight cart on that train was counted, we in the same way should be excited about life and making sure each God-given moment is counted.

Thanks for reading!

Karlie