When I Was Small by Adrian Plass

I've been heartbroken lately because of different situations which some friends have been going through, and i was reminded of a poem by one of my favorite contemporary British authors.

when i was small
i didn't know the world had fallen long ago
i stumbled often, fell from trees
enjoyed the pride of bloodied knees
and banks were made for rolling down
or sliding when the snow had come

my bones would bend more easily
even when they broke they mended soon
and people gave me things to cheer me up

i once went sledging with a friend at night
he didn't trust the moon and he was right
it slipped away as we began our ride
but i was glad; i loved the dark
for all i cared we could have sledged into eternity
i wished that pale, hissing dream would never end
it did. i have the scars

i still have all the scars from all the falls
and mainly on my knees
but somewhere deep inside where no one ever sees
i have some other scars that never seem to heal
the cause of them i cannot now recall
but then i didn't know the world had fallen long ago
when i was small.

Kurt Browning 2006 Ice Wars Technical Program

For me, winter means watching figure skating. And I know a lot of people think that it is a girlie sport, if a sport at all, but I don't think there's anything girlie about this program by Kurt Browning.

Travel

Lately when I travel, I've found the experience to be deeply moving. And especially when I travel alone, my senses seem to be more in tune with spiritual truth than usual. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that, by simply stepping foot in the airport, I am entering a sort of limbo which can only be exited by reaching my destination. I am already gone from where I used to be, but have not yet arrived where I am going. For the extent of my travel, I live between two worlds, without really being part of either one. I am a sojourner, a pilgrim, seeking her way home.

As I step into this black hole where time seems to come to a standstill, mundane distractions melt into a fog, and I am suddenly alone with my thoughts. As my eyes feast on the beauty and the minute detail of God's creation spread out beneath me, I marvel at the imagination of my Creator, who has not only surrounded my life with physical beauty, but who has opened my eyes to see his spiritual beauty as well. I marvel at the laws of aerodynamics which keep this aircraft thousands of feet up in the air. I wonder at the delicate intricacy of each different kind of cloud. And I am humbled.

My heart wells up in praise. In such a world, what is man? Why do you pay attention to us? Why do you care for us? Why do you fill our lives with so many blessings?

And then the landing gear makes contact, I alight from this time warp with life taking up where it left off, and I run the risk of forgetting to express what has welled up in my soul.

Thank you.

14 days!

Amy's stuff is in my garage.
It's waiting for her to come move in.
It can't wait for her to unpack.
Even her bicycle is mournfully awaiting her arrival.
It's tired of sitting in the dark all day.
Now that summer is gone, it's starting to get cold at night.
How her stuff wishes November 2 would just get here.


Alas, I feel the same as Amy's stuff.

Musings on a Fine Autumn Day

Last night was quite exciting for me--I got to wear socks to bed! Now, this may not sound like a highlight to other people, but this event truly filled my little heart with joy. You see, I grew up in a place with no central heating. So at night during the winter, all our kerosene space heaters would get turned off and we would slide beneath the five blankets which were piled on our beds. But even before that came the ritual of getting dressed for bed. I would don several layers, including a warm pair(s) of socks. And then I would snuggle down for another night.
Nocturnal sock time is here again for me. Oh, the comfort of childhood memories!

As I was getting ready for work this morning, I heard a thump on the roof, and then something outside the front door. After a while, I heard another noise, so I ventured out to see. This is what I found:








Feathers were scattered everywhere along the walkway. I wonder if the bird was suicidal, or if he was assisted to an untimely end.

Ecuador Tables

The tables have been painted!

When our team was in Ecuador, part of our work consisted in making these tables for the church's children's program. Some spent countless hours sanding the wood (thanks Trevor!) and others actually putting them together (thanks Greg and Trent!). And now Marcelo, the missionary, has finished painting them. Here they are, lined up in the church back yard/patio area. They look so pretty!

Please be praying for the church. They have until the end of September to come up with the remaining $40,000 to pay for the property they are currently renting (they already have about $20,000). Otherwise, they will have to move from their current facilities, but there are no other places available in their area.

If you would like to contribute, make it out to Iberoamerican Ministries, with " El Recreo - Ecuador Church Construction" in the memo, and send it to:

IberoAmerican Ministries

PO Box 1493

Monroe, WA 98272

"I don't love God.
I don't want to love God.
But I want to want to love God."

Some days I realize that I really don't love God very much. Besides my morning Bible reading, most of the time he doesn't even cross my mind until I lay my weary body down to sleep. My mind has been trained to think in "christian" patterns, which result in "christian" actions or non-actions, all seemingly on autopilot. But do these come as a result of loving God? I seriously have my doubts.

Other days I know that I don't even want to love God. My sinful patterns catch up with me and I realize that I haven't truly surrendered. If I really wanted to love God, wouldn't my life display that desire? Wouldn't I be doing things that would bring glory to God? The harsh reality is that I stumble. A lot. And that is when I am convinced that my life doesn't even reflect a desire to love God.

But I know that deep down I do long to want to love God. I want my life to be marked by that passion, that dedication, that whole-hearted pursuit, even though I know that I haven't fully surrendered. I want to want to love God. I know that as I continue to cultivate my heart, continually turning to God for everything, I will one day be able to say that I truly want to love God, and maybe even, years down the road, I will have learned to love God. While I'm not quite there yet, I think that even so, God is honored by my desire and my constant struggle to not give in to complacency. After all, our journey with God is just as important as our destination.

"Bring it on"?

Note to self: Never, ever again, under any circumstances, tell God to bring it on. Ever.

Recent Travel

Travel for me often includes a journey of the soul. I have a tendency to turn introspective and often arrive altered in more than one aspect.

Last week I left LAX with grand hopes of being of great use to my dear friend Ceri, who got married on Saturday. I like being useful. And this is why I arrived four days before the big event. But once there, I encountered something unpleasant and unexpected: life for my friends in Missouri had gone on.

Why is it that while we live and even anticipate change in our own lives, we are so shocked when we encounter it in others' lives, especially those we haven't seen in a while?

I used to be one of Ceri's go-to people, because of our friendship and my proximity. But now I live far away, and once I arrived, most everything was done, and I felt a bit unneeded. We didn't even really have a chance to sit and connect through conversation as I love to do. And given the magnitude of the upcoming day and the fact that her family was in town, it was perfectly reasonable that what I would have loved to do was impossible. Yet without realizing it, I had that unexpressed expectation. And the actual day of her wedding was filled with melancholy for me. Not that I wish my life were different; I am ecstatically content with where God has me right now. But the truth is, another one of my friends has moved on with her life into a place where I cannot follow. Everything has changed.

On the other hand, I got to share special moments with family members. My fraternal grandmother is close to 90 years old, and each time I see her I know it just may be my last chance to share with her. We went to her favorite restaurant to eat their famous fried chicken. She took home everyone's bones to feed the neighborhood cats, just as she always does. My brother took me to lunch, which was a first. I felt so grown up, like we were finally both adults, independent from Mom and Dad. My Papa (mother's side) had his 79th birthday on Sunday, and was overjoyed that I could share the day with him.

My parents now have no children to look after, and it is amazing to see how close they have grown. They've been married for 32 years now, and enjoy each other's company more than ever. My dad has reverted to the goofiness which characterized his childhood and which hardly ever came out during my childhood, when the pressures of living overseas and supporting a family on a missionary salary were weighing him down. And my mom's life is full. She is teaching Spanish at a community adult school and is my dad's companion on all of his trips. While she would love for her children to live a little closer, she has always encouraged us to follow God's calling, whether that takes us next door or halfway across the country. I know she would be supportive if I was convinced that God wanted me to move to the slums of overpopulated India.

I am greatly blessed to have such a family.

But when I flew out of the Tulsa airport on Sunday, I had no idea what to expect from my next destination. There was one more stop in my travel. My friend and mentor, Lori, had just moved to Houston with her family. When in college, their home was a haven and a place of renewal where I went to do laundry, jump on the trampoline, talk out my latest frustrations concerning life as a college student, receive words of wisdom and encouragement, and be prayed for. Especially during the long separation from my family, the Tischlers became my adopted family, and I, the eldest of their daughters.

While different seasons of life require different kinds of people and influences, there also exist those relationships which may change, but never weaken. So it is with the Tischlers.

How can I even begin to describe with words how deeply they are anchored in my heart? And once again, their home was a place of restoration and encouragement. We spoke of change, about the amazing way that God uses even the smallest details in our lives to direct us to places where we will face challenges and have an impact for his kingdom, about the ways we try to force God into our own plans for our lives, about growing up on the mission field, about how sometimes life really stinks--yet God remains faithful. We rejoiced together because of new opportunities and shared the difficulties of moving somewhere completely new--especially the challenges their two teenaged daughters are facing.

After these two incredible days, I feel refreshed and confident. God has meant for this life to be an adventure. So whatever it is, I think I'm ready. Bring it on! (Although, God, please not all at once. And not the really hard things, either...)

2 Hours of My Day

“Hey, do you have a minute? I’m stuck on a phone call, and there’s this homeless guy downstairs that needs help.”

I wanted to say that no, I was too busy. But this being the ministry, and the ministry being my life (to a certain extent), I sighed and said yes. Without realizing it, I had just committed the next two hours of my day, a day which needed to be filled by other activities, such as important paperwork and phone calls.

But I went downstairs. Frank was sitting there next to the phone, waiting for someone to help him. He had a handful of note cards on which he’d written phone numbers. Since he is going blind, he needs someone to dial the numbers for him, and to look up new numbers. First order was to try to find a criminal lawyer who could help him with his overdue tickets, both for parking and panhandling. He’d missed one of his court dates already, and was wondering if a lawyer could help him. The second thing he was looking for was a lawsuit lawyer. He had tripped on some steps in front of McDonald’s, and was wondering if he had a case. Then we tried finding a shelter/food pantry where he could go to get some new clothes, since he needed to replace the ones on his back.

“I used to joke about what I’d give up just to get my eyesight back, but now I really mean it; I would give up both my arms, just to be able to see again.”

I sat close by, dialing the phone as he needed it, hearing each secretary refer him to someone else. His body odor overwhelmed me, and although it was not extremely unpleasant, it was definitely hard to ignore. At each rejection or recorded message, the receiver would come down as he rubbed his fully bearded face. “Relief is coming soon. I just need to get some nicotine in me.”

I have no idea what it’s like to not have a home. Oh, sure, I’ve been displaced plenty of times as a missionary kid; it comes with the territory. But to not have a place to go take a nap? Or to keep my belongings? Or to find refuge from inclement weather?

As Frank left, muttering something about nicotine and a nap in the park, I was glad to see him go, so that I could return to my “normal” life and schedule. But I’m also thankful for that brief interruption to my day. I’m never meant to live in my circle of comfort, cut off from the rest of the world. Glimpses like this make me realize that my life is not my own, and my plans for each day should be more conformed to God’s agenda.

Thank you, Frank.

New from Philip Yancey!

Yancey's long awaited work is finally here! It's called Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference? Zondervan says it's not coming out until October, BUT you can pre-order it to come the first of September, at a discount from Christian Book Distributors. A brand new, hardback book, at a 40% discount, written by Philip Yancey--what more could you ask for? Seriously.

Saturday

Oh, torturous Friday, whose blood flowed from my own heart
Whose angry mob kills the only hope I dared have
Whose pain and guilt became my own

Oh, impatient Saturday, whose end seems to never come
Whose claws close in on my struggling faith
Whose dark nightfall will one day be broken by the most magnificent awakening

Oh, glorious Sunday, whose future brilliance shines hope into the night of my life
Whose anticipation gives me purpose and reason
Whose long awaited trumpet blast wakes my slumbering soul

And then I shall finally be free of myself

*inspired by the last page in Yancey's The Jesus I Never Knew

Questions from a cynical heart

Why is it that I become so cynical when people share about God's calling in their life?

How can we truly, really know when God has called us to something, especially something so specific? Why do youth ministers, who have clearly heard "God's call" to go into ministry, only last 18 months, on average? Do we really hear God? or do we mis-hear him? Could it be that he desires all his children go into ministry, and so we feel him move in us, but then our preconceived ideas of ministry make us try to squeeze that desire into our boxes of fulltime ministry--missionary, pastor, children's minister, youth pastor? What if God desires that we minister where we are, whether a fulltime pastor, teacher, doctor, lawyer, engineer, business man? Could it be that our definition of ministry is too small, too confined and too stagnant for the creative, resourceful and strength-giving God that we serve?

Why is it that so often we go back on our promises to God? Do we think he'll just understand? We feel him in us, and we respond by promising our life away, but is that what he really wanted from us? Maybe, could it be, that God wants our availability more than our promises? After all, when Jephthah made a rash promise to God in a moment of spiritual fervor (Judges 11:29-40), God held him to it, and he ended up having to sacrifice his very own daughter; would he not have wished to take that promise back? Why do we think our promises to God can be taken so lightly that within a year we will have denied them with the very direction our life has taken? Why do we think that by simply wanting and deeply desiring it we will fulfill our promises when we consistently make decisions that take us further and further away from our commitment?

Is this cynicism, then, reasonable and expected, after having seen so many misdirected promises? Or is there hope for my cynical heart?

Ecuador was...

In telling of the mission trip I led to Ecuador, I have to borrow words from Adrian Plass:
I cannot [tell my experience] in words.How should I spell despair, excitement, joy, and grief,Amazement, anger, certainty and unbelief?

I grew attached to Gabriela, a twelve-year-old girl whose mother sells herself to men. Our friendship blossomed, we studied the Bible together, and I was able to baptize her.

Out of our team of eleven, I was one of two translators, and despite a cold, was able to spend much of my time building linguistic bridges between languages and cultures.

What more? It seems to all be a muddle to me. What I do know is that I have been sad ever since I got back. And I don't think that it had to do with saying goodbye to my dear friends in Ecuador and Peru; I was prepared to have to say goodbye to them. Rather, I miss my teammates from Downey. For two weeks, I was needed and appreciated and loved. I had something to give, something that others esteemed. I had grown really close to these people, through shared conversations and experiences. It had become OK to be affectionate, because I was in a country where that is socially acceptable (and those who know me, know how much I love giving and getting hugs!).

I guess I was unprepared for the shock of returning to "real life". It's not that I'm seeking to continue some sort of mountain top experience, but rather, I discovered how much I enjoy facilitating experiences for others. Whether it's helping others discover the freedom of a life in Christ, or translating so people can understand each other, or simply talking about life and faith, I love to be a part of it. And when I returned to Downey, I realized that I don't do much of that on a regular basis.

At the same time, God used this time to heal some things that had been in my life for a while. I've been able to let go of a lot of things, by the simple act of stepping out of my comfort zone, and finding new friends that have nothing to do with those other situations. In comparison, my inner life seems very full now, and the future looks a little brighter.

Pondering Discipleship in an Instant Society

From my last post, and the length of time I let go between posts, I may have given the impression that the way I've dealt with those mistakes was by jumping off a bridge. Not so. I am alive and kicking, and still thinking, although much busier. All that to say...

I've been reading A Long Obedience in the Same Direction, by Eugene Peterson. Here is one of the passages that has moved me.

There is nothing I am less good at than love. I am far better in competition than in love. I am far better at responding to my instincts and ambitions to get ahead and make my mark than I am at figuring out how to love another. I am schooled and trained in acquisitive skills, in getting my own way. And yet I decide, every day, to set aside what I can do best and attempt what I do very clumsily--open myself to the frustrations and failures of loving, daring to believe that failing in love is better than succeeding in pride.

These words spoke to my heart, because I am not good at loving. And yet, since I fear failing, I am often tempted to give up. When I do, my pride rises up and escorts me into a familiar place of selfish loneliness, whispering in my ear its poisonous words about my worth. Why do I not realize that true failure is found in giving up? How can I convince myself that to be in motion for God, no matter what the visible outcome, will bring about greater joy and success than I could ever imagine?