Saturday, September 25, 2010

AH! AH! AH! AH-Bee-Guy- EEL!

My best friends in San Isidro live at a little nursing home called Albernia. Recently they opened a new wing and expanded their capacity from 18 residents to around 25. I used to be able to call all by their names. Now, every week there seems to be another name to learn.

Several weeks ago I got "introduced" to a new resident. It was obvious no one had warm feelings about Abigail(pronounced in Spanish AH-bee-guy-EEL). It was no wonder! She can quickly make you realize that peace and quiet has moved to another community. She repeatedly cries out at the top of her lungs, "AH! AH! AH! AH!" As I glanced her way that first day, I was told by staff and residents alike, "Pay no heed to Abigail. All she wants is to have you take her out of here."

Sadly, my first time or two with Abigail I almost heeded the consensus of advice... stay away from Abigail. Two weeks ago I was showing my friend Ana some photos when Abigail pulled up behind me in her wheelchair. Tugging at my elbow, she shouted, "Ah! Ah! Ah!" Ana told me, "Don't let her see the photo pages. She'll destroy them." I replied, "I'll show them to her. I just will tell her not to touch them."

I coached Abigail to keep her hands away from the pages as I gently explained the photos to her. The "Ah! Ah! Ah!'s" stopped, and soon AH-bee-guy-EEL tugged on me again, only this time she buried her face in my arm and sobbed. I held her close to me and whispered in her ear, telling her about God's love for her. Quietly, I whispered a prayer for her to sense God's presence and for her to put her trust in Jesus in the midst of her trials. She was calm for the rest of my visit... until I went to leave. Then, she desperately stretched her arms out towards me, once again chanting, "AH! AH! AH!" I held her close one more time and whispered a promise to spend time with her on future visits. She cried as I spoke with her, but was at peace when I walked away.

Yesterday I went back to visit my friends at Albernia. As I approached the women's wing, I could hear Abigail's shouts. When she saw me, her shouts became more desperate. I went straight to her and reminded her of my promise. She was immediately calm, and I was able to talk and pray quietly with her again. She was silent for the rest of my visit.

Don't think me a hero. I'm really not doing anything extraordinary. Instead, God has granted me the privilege of seeing someone respond to my presence in an extraordinary way. I have a feeling she and I might become good friends - maybe even sisters in Christ!

Saturday, September 18, 2010

A Dream Come True

This is written in honor of my dear friend, Nena, who died on Monday. It's
taken from our book, God Save the Eggs!

We co-own a cabin in a remote mountainous area of Costa Rica. It’s been a wonderful retreat spot for us. It’s also served as a youth and leadership retreat site and a honeymoon cabin for more than one couple.

We pay Rodrigo, a local gardener, about $25 a month to keep up the yard for us. During our first year of ownership, we went out of our way to make friends with Rodrigo. As our friendship deepened, Rodrigo opened up with us and told us of his wife’s struggles with clinical depression. I had only met Nena once. She rarely accompanied her husband on his visits to the cabin.

Woody and I began to pray for Nena and Rodrigo and their family. We decided that if Nena showed up with Rodrigo sometime while we were at the cabin that we would invite them in for coffee. Not soon afterwards we went to stay overnight at the cabin. Early that Saturday morning Rodrigo showed up to mow the lawn. Surprisingly, Nena came with him. She is a very shy person, but she actually came up to the door and asked to borrow a rake to help Rodrigo.

After I fetched the rake, I began to chat with Nena. I mentioned that we would love to invite them in for coffee. As we stood on the porch, Nena began to share her life story with me. She was amazingly open about her experiences as an inpatient at a psychiatric hospital, struggling with severe postpartum depression. Several times in her conversation she mentioned her desire to know God. As I prepared to go in to fix coffee, I mentioned to her that I had a pamphlet that tells what the Bible says about knowing God personally. I suggested she look at it while I put the coffee on.

When Nena took the tract from me, she paged open to a diagram showing man’s separation from God. Before I could even turn to get out the coffee, she began to cry.

“What’s wrong, Nena?” I asked.

“This picture! I know just what it is! Several years ago I had a vivid dream of this picture. See the person on this side of the chasm? That is me. And on the other side is God. There is a big chasm separating us and I am ready to fall into it and be lost forever. But, I have one very important question. In my dream, there was a bridge that spans the gap between God and me. Susana, what is that bridge and how can I find it?”

I decided the coffee could wait a minute. Nena wanted to know every single detail and hear every single Bible verse. Before we could get to the last page, Nena excitedly interrupted me.

“I know I am a sinner. I know that Jesus died and rose again so that He could be the bridge to bring me back to God. Can I pray right now to tell Him that I want to trust Him as my Savior? I want to do that so badly!”

I felt like saying, “Just wait! We haven’t gotten to that page yet!”

But, instead, I said, “Sure, Nena. I know that God would be so pleased to respond to your prayer.”

As she prayed her own simple sinner’s prayer, I shook my head in wonder of God’s work in her life.

After she prayed, I added my own prayer of rejoicing over this miraculous new birth. I turned to Nena and said, “You know what your name means, right? It means a little girl or baby girl. Now you are a new baby in Jesus and He is so eager to have you read His Word and learn from Him.”

As I stepped into the little kitchen to finally put the coffee pot on, I heard Nena run with excitement to her husband. I think Rodrigo was a bit taken aback with her enthusiasm. She said, “Remember, Rodrigo, my dream about being separated from God?!? Susana told me exactly what the Bible says about that and now I know the bridge is Jesus!”

Saturday, September 11, 2010

A Theology of Groaning

I’m reading a book called Jesus Driven Ministry. It’s by Ajith Fernando, the Youth For Christ director from Sri Lanka. He gives a very Scripture-based presentation of Jesus’ style of ministry which we should imitate.

One thing that struck me was when he wrote about how today’s church has a strong theology of the necessity for growth (although we don’t grow that much in the West!!), a strong theology of praise, and a strong theology of power. But, he says that those must be balanced with a theology of groaning. The term groaning is taken from Romans 8:23, “We ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.”

Earlier Paul wrote that because of the Fall, “the creation was subjected to futility.” (8:20) We, too, are subjected to futility – accidents, sickness, being disliked or hurt by others, etc. Even though we strive to be like Christ, we make mistakes and commit sin. As the author puts it, “Our thirst coming from the foretaste of heaven will clash with the reality of living in a fallen world, and the result is that we will groan sometimes.”

Groaning can coexist with praise. In fact, the Bible is full of groaning and complaints and laments. About 50 out of the 150 psalms are laments – raw, painful expressions of hurt and sorrow. I liked a quote by OT scholar Chris Wright, describing the biblical laments: “God, I am hurting; and, God, everyone else is laughing. And, God, You are not helping very much either; and how long is it going to go on?”

Groaning in the context of a fallen world is not only natural, it is to be expected. After all, the Spirit stays tuned in to our groaning, and Jesus Himself probably expressed His emotion that way more than once - for instance, in the Garden of Gethsemane. Complaints are the cries of those who believe that God is good, but cannot see this goodness in what they are currently experiencing. Their cries are “tinged with hope” and are an honest expression of struggle.

We do wrong when we do not allow one another to groan. Yes, we must groan with hope, but groaning is part of life on this side of heaven. We need a place where we can share honestly without facing rejection or reprimand by others for “not being good Christians.” If our Christian community cannot listen to our groans, it is evidence that there is a lack of understanding of grace. And, unless we have a theology of groaning, our faith will remain superficial.

Saturday, September 04, 2010

Two Versions of the Same Story

Occasionally all the students in an English class are given the same sentence and told to complete the story. Each student develops his own unique creative essay. Today Woody and I have decided to repeat that classroom exercise. Read both of our blogs to see how we took the same basic sentence and went our own direction with it!

Woody and I spent our Saturday afternoon fixing a toilet.
You may have always wondered how missionaries spend their Saturday afternoons. You may also have wondered, "How smart are Woody and Su?" Now you know the answer to both questions. If we were really smart, we probably would have fixed the toilet in just one afternoon. If we were really, really smart, it would have taken less than 2 hours to fix it on our first attempt. The way things currently stand, we aren't sure if we will be spending NEXT Saturday afternoon fixing this same toilet all over again!

For well over a year, our toilet has been an adventure. Just sitting on it required faith. Thinking back on it, it was the only rocking chair we had in the house! It reminds me of a toilet adventure we once had in Bolivia. A couple of years ago we had a reunion of our immediate family on the shores of Lake Titicaca. We rented three cabins. Two of the cabins were really nice. Ours, on the other hand...

In the evening, Woody decided to step into the tiny bathroom with a book called 882 1/2 Amazing Answers to Your Questions About the Titanic. The floor of the bathroom was significantly slanted and the floorboards creaked and flexed with each step. I was peacefully reading in bed when I heard Woody cry out. Jokingly, I asked if I should call an ambulance. It worried me a bit when he replied, "Maybe!" It ends up that as he was reading about the sinking of the Titanic, the toilet literally began to sink through the floor!

Our toilet has been at risk of a similar sinking of the Titanic for quite some time. So, last Saturday we decided to buy a new wax seal and get to the root of the problem. I will not tell you how much not fun it was to get at the root of the problem! I will simply say that it was not the most comfortable or pleasant experience I've had in my life! To top it off, that evening we noted a distinct sewer smell in our bathroom which has persevered throughout the week. The toilet no longer rocked, but obviously had new, serious issues.

So, this afternoon we were back on toilet duty. This time we had all the equipment lined up and ready... newspapers, rags, towels, flashlight, thread, paperclips, needle-nose pliers, wrenches, cooking spray, and spare wax rings. (Write me if you want to know why we had this strange medley of tools!) Woody had the body-building job of repeatedly lifting the toilet. I had the disagreeable job of being underneath it time and again. By the end of the process, not only were all the rags, papers and towels filthy and wet - I was, too!

As I lay there, stinky and damp from head to toe, I thought of a verse I read this morning. "He who sacrifices thank offerings honors me." Psalm 50:23.

Our reactions to everyday occurrences can change a piece of history and bring glory to God. There are many things that can glorify the Living God, the Creator of the Universe. You may think that we missionaries are just out here preaching and discipling and teaching and helping people find God. But, sometimes we are simply down on the ground, stinky and dirty, doing a nasty job, and doing it for a second time at that! But, in the midst of it all, we have a unique opportunity to honor God by sacrificially thanking Him.

We may never have another moment like today to thank Him in the midst of some less-than-favorable circumstances. Let me rephrase that. I hope we never have another chance to sacrificially thank Him while kneeling at a toilet!

This moment, like every moment, offers you just one chance to act and react in a way that glorifies God. So, whether you are painting a work of art, telling someone about Jesus, directing a symphony, serving a meal to the homeless, or fixing a toilet… don’t miss your chance to honor Him!