Affliction

I've been re-reading a book that I read almost 28 years ago... Affliction by Edith Schaeffer. I read it while bedridden for two months while pregnant in Bolivia. The doctor had told me the chances of saving the pregnancy were slim. I'd had constant bleeding during my first trimester. I spent a lot of time in prayer, mostly questioning God why I had to spend all that time in bed. I remember praying, "If I'm going to lose the baby anyway, why not just lose it now, rather than spend weeks in bed? And if the baby will survive, why not make me better right now, rather than make me spend weeks in bed? I just don't get it!!"

The book impacted me greatly, because it brought home to me that no matter what would be the earthly outcome of my trial, each and every moment spent in that bed was a unique opportunity to trust Him and win spiritual battles. Here's a paragraph that might bring home the concept better than my own feeble words.

"On the day when the believers' rewards are given out, we will be craning our necks to see who is being given a shining reward and some special treasure. I am sure that we will be astounded at the things that were counted 'the greatest' and the things that were counted 'the least.' There is no one who is shut away from having a victory (or even a whole string of victories in the heavenly battle) because of wheelchair lives, hospital walls, prison bars, concentration-camp barbed wire, desert abandonment, nursing-home loneliness, mundane work in some wilderness spot, or absence of another human being over miles of lonely farmland to be worked on a tractor. None of us can know which shock or illness (headache or operation, disappointment or disillusionment with a friend, criticism or other human attack, loss of job or loss of house and land, news of a close loved one's death, or totally destructive earthquake) will turn out to be the most important opportunity we are ever going to have to honestly love God and truly trust Him in a way which will bring Him joy and defeat Satan. We cannot know which is the most important moment in our lives. Its arrival won't be announced with a blast of silver horns or a blare of an orchestra's full crescendo. Our most important moment can come when no one but God and Satan are aware of it, when our response to the Lord is one which wins at once a battle which could have left a horrible tear or hole in the fabric of history."

Thankfully, our daughter Kari is the blessing that came after those long bedridden days! But, we cannot be guaranteed of a joyful outcome on earth. One thing we CAN do, is trust Him in the midst of whatever circumstances we are experiencing right now, knowing that this might be our shining moment in history... even if no one else on earth notices!

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!

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!”

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.

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!

Egypt, Here We Come!

Funny how God will sometimes hit us with related thoughts… BAM, BAM, BAM!

Early this morning I read a very interesting article on cnn.com about American young people who call themselves Christians. Based on interviews with at least 3,300 American teenagers between the ages of 13 and 17, the study found that most who called themselves Christian were indifferent and inarticulate about their faith. "Though three out of four American teenagers claim to be Christian, fewer than half practice their faith, only half deem it important, and most can't talk coherently about their beliefs,” the study found.

The article went on to explain that unless a young person sees a parent or other model actually step out in faith to do something out of the norm and is willing and able to verbalize reasons for his actions, the child is unlikely to have anything but a watered down faith. Many churches practice a "gospel of niceness," where faith is simply doing good and not ruffling feathers.

After reading the CNN article, I read in both Jeremiah and Ezekiel about the small remnant left in Jerusalem after God's people were taken as captives to Babylon. The remnant approached the prophet Jeremiah and told him, "Beg the Lord your God to show us what to do and where to go. May the Lord your God be a faithful witness against us if we refuse to obey whatever he tells us to do! Whether we like it or not, we will obey the Lord our God to whom we send you with our plea."

After Jeremiah consulted God, he returned to them with new insights. He told them that their fears of famine and retribution by the king of Bablyon were unfounded, and that they would have nothing to fear if they remained in Jerusalem. BUT, he said, if they chose to flee to Egypt, all their fears would be realized and they would die of famine and war. None would escape from harm.

On top of that, God made it clear to Jeremiah that the people never had intended to obey Him. Their intent was always to flee to Egypt - no matter what God or Jeremiah had to say about the subject. So, they made their choice. “Egypt (and destruction), here we come!”

All these thoughts came to me before 6:30AM! After church today we met with our mentees, Christopher and Alicia. Alicia was asking me to pray for her uncle, who claims to be a Christian, but wants to live life on his own terms. “After all, I am a man!”

It seems like not being serious about our faith has a long history. We can talk all we want about God, but unless we are willing to stick our necks out, and risk our lives for His cause, at best we are practicing a “gospel of niceness.” At worst, we may face the very fate we most fear.

Will we never learn? That must be a question God asks Himself often!

If Anyone Takes Your Sunglasses, Let Them Have your Kit Kat Also

While on a trip to Rome with our dear friends Gary, Joy, Joe and Jan, we were robbed by a band of gypsies while on a Metro train. We might have suspected what was going on, except that the group who crowded into our train car were young women carrying their babies. It seemed strange to have five young moms all get on at once and not talk to one another. Joe graciously offered his seat to one of them, but she ignored him and stood between the two of us. As we jostled through the moms and babies to get off at the next stop, Joe thought he felt a baby's foot pressed against his waistline. It was the mom's hand which successfully fetched cash and train tickets from his money belt and managed to unzip my own pack as well and grab my sunglasses. We realized what was happening before the train doors could close, but there was nothing we could do about it.

As the six of us gathered our wits and assessed the losses, we actually saw that very mom further up the platform! We ran after her and stopped her, asking for our things back. Since she was working in a pack of thieves, I'm sure she had already passed off our cash or glasses to another. She protested her innocence, but made no effort to escape. Joe and I ended up wasting over an hour in a hot, smoky, crowded Metro police office while the rest of our group waited outside the door.

We caught an insider's glimpse of how the Rome Metro police work (0r don't work!). At times we had up to eight officials in the room with us, doing absolutely nothing. One of them spoke English and told us we could not leave until the city police showed. We were literally prisoners in that stuffy, dark room! Meanwhile the gypsy mom continued to insist upon her innocence, vociferously protesting her detention and complaining of the heat.

After an hour or so I was feeling light-headed and asked permission to have Woody buy me a candy bar. Woody knocked at the door and handed me two Kit Kats, telling me to give the second one to the gypsy. I looked at him incredulously. "Really? Give her one?" Woody gently encouraged me to do it.

At first she sullenly refused the Kit Kat. I kindly looked her in the eyes and insisted. The English-speaking officer told her in Italian, "Go ahead. Take it! She wants you to have it."

Thanks to Woody's encouragement, I began to change my perspective towards the gypsy mom. I began to pray for her. I knew that there was no chance we'd retrieve any of our lost possessions. The only way to redeem this lost time in Rome was to see the situation through God's eyes.

Shortly after eating her Kit Kat, she spoke to me through the translator. "If I had the money, I'd give it back. I really would." She even told me how many work in their band of thieves, though she still insisted she hadn't stolen from us herself.

When the Rome police finally showed up, they were not particularly friendly or helpful. The best thing they could do for us was to finally release us from that smoky, hot room which felt like our own prison cell by that point. They said they were escorting her out of the subway (where I'm pretty sure they just let her go!). Before leaving, though, I asked if I could share a few words with her through our translator. As a bevy of police stood around, I shared a few inadequate, but heartfelt words. "God loves you and wants to forgive you. I believe you that you'd give back the money if you could. You need to turn to God to find forgiveness and to have the power to choose a different lifestyle. This is no way for you to live or raise your child. God wants you to turn to Him."

I know that she is a woman hardened by life's circumstances, but I trust God spoke to her through my paltry words and Woody's prompting to be Christ to her in some small way. As for me, the loss of my sunglasses was worth the spiritual lessons I learned.

The next day I was reading from the book of Proverbs, and verse after verse struck me. Among them:

• If your enemies are hungry, give them food to eat. If they are thirsty, give them water to drink. Proverbs 25:21
• Men do not despise a thief if he steals to satisfy himself when he is hungry. Proverbs 6:30

That day I was also reading from Prayer by Philip Yancey. No one needs our love more than the unlovely. We should stand beside our enemies and plead to God on their behalf. After all, who else will pray for them?

I doubt many people pray for that young gypsy woman. I'm sad that I did not ask her name. Her face, I will not forget. And, even as I write this blog, I am reminded to pray for her, that my inadequate words might be used in some small way to open her heart to the new life God would have for her.

Door Two, Information, Door Two, Information, Door Two, Etc.

I spent half of my day yesterday getting a signed paper from the associate director of the Central American Churches. Today at 7:30AM I asked Woody to sit down with me to go over all the papers I'd pulled together for my immigration appointment. We compared my papers to the list of requisites I'd gotten from the official immigration phone hotline. We read that the letter I'd worked so hard to get needed to be notarized. I quickly called Olga, a lawyer friend, who said she'd be glad to notarize it. But she lives on the other side of the valley and she told me that her house is very hard to find. I quickly showered and headed out. Thankfully, traffic was light and I had no trouble following her directions... to the Hipermas store, turn on the highway, go 500 meters and turn right after the sports field. Go about a kilometer and turn at the little store called "La Favorita." Go another kilometer or so to the bus stop for an area called "Los Mojados." (Stop and ask someone where Los Mojados is.) From the bus stop go 50 meters south and 100 meters west. It's an apartment buidling that's three stories high.

I got there quickly and easily and proudly I thought to myself, "I deserve my residency here!" Olga not only notarized the Central American Church letter, but also the ITeams one and my slip from the clinic in town. I didn't have much time to make it to my appointment, but traffic again was light, so I had 15 minutes to spare!

I remembered Door Two from my last visa renewal, so I found an employee there who looked at my appointment slip and told me, "Oh, that appointment was canceled. We canceled a number of appointments and told some of the people that they were canceled. You need to go to the information desk to schedule one through the Banco de Costa Rica." Obviously, I was one of the people they decided not to inform about the cancelation.

I waited through the Information line. The lady there said, "Go to Door Two."

The man at door two said, "Why did she send you here again? Listen, mi reina (my queen), I'll walk you back over there."

We cut to the front of the Information line. There she gave me the phone number to call to reschedule an appointment. I asked her about a sign posted in the window that stated that all transactions require a delinquency report. "Yes, you must have that."

"Why didn't they tell me that when I called about the requisites? I went over them all with them on the toll phone line and they said nothing about a delinquency report."

"That requirement just went into effect last week. You need to go to the court to get it."

"What about the deposits I paid? Will they still be right for my rescheduled appointment?"

To make a long story short, I was told that the hotline deposit information was wrong. I cannot get a five year renewal and the deposits were for the wrong amount and cannot be applied to the new appointment. I asked about getting my money back, and she said I had to get it back from the treasury office around the corner, but first needed to go back to Door Two. She then painstakingly wrote out explanations on the back of each of my three deposit slips.

I went back to my friend at Door Two, who disappeared with my deposit slips. "Reina, you need to take these to the treasurer's office."

The woman working at the treasurer's office looked at me with great pity before she told me, "The system is down. You need to come back on Monday to get your money back." I'm sure she saw my crestfallen expression as I asked, "Isn't there anything I can do? I really don't want to come back on Monday!"

"You can go back to Door Two and ask them to apply it as a credit to an appointment at our offices rather than the bank."

So, I went back to my friend at door two. He said, "I'm so sorry, reina, I can only do that if you go back to information and get an appointment there."

I knew that the lady at the information desk, unlike Mr. Door Two, was not my friend. Each time I had returned she glared at me a little more. So, I asked my friend, "If you were me, what would you do?"

"I'd skip the information booth, forget about your deposit for now, go home, call the appointment number, do the paperwork at the Banco de Costa Rica, and come back here some other day to get your money back."

I thanked him, thanked God that I hadn't lost my patience, and headed home with a long list of things to do before I might possibly get my residency renewed.

There's got to be a good spiritual application to all this. If anyone thinks of one, let me know. Meanwhile, I'm going to call it a day!!

A Soldier is Never Laid Aside!

No soldier on service is ever "laid aside," he is only given another commission, sometimes just to suffer (we are not told the use of that), sometimes, when pain and weakness lessen a little, to fight among the unseen forces of the field... the soldier must let his Captain say where and for what... A wise [captain] never wastes his [soldier's] time - there is great comfort in remembering that.
Taken from the book Rose from Brier by Amy Carmichael

Pouring What?

Sometimes it's hard to describe exactly what our ministry entails. For those of you who've followed our "knee-mails" for years, you have a pretty good idea. For those who haven't quite figured us out yet, this knee-mail states clearly what we are all about.

The Lord Jesus Christ.

That's it!

We are so privileged to be reminded again and again of the centrality of the message of Jesus and the hope He offers to our world... the US, Latin America, and the rest of the globe. Recently Woody passed on to me an article by Leonard Sweet that put it well.

Christians have made the gospel about so many things—things other than Christ. But Jesus Christ is the gravitational pull that brings everything together and gives it meaning. Without Him, all things lose their value. They are but detached pieces floating around in space. That includes your life. It is all too possible to emphasize a spiritual truth, value, virtue, or gift, yet miss Christ, who is Himself the embodiment and incarnation of all of these things.

What is Christianity? It is Christ. Nothing more. Nothing less. Christianity is not an ideology or a philosophy. Neither is it a new type of morality, social ethic, or worldview. Christianity is the “good news” that beauty, truth, and goodness are found in a person. And true humanity and community are founded on and experienced by connection to that person.

This global, Google world needs a meta-narrative more than ever, and the Jesus Story is the interpreting system of all other systems.

In this hour, the testimony that we feel God has called us to bear revolves around the primacy of the Lord Jesus Christ. Specifically, we need to decide how we are going to answer one question: “Who do you say that I am?”

This week we've had the privilege of pouring into four men from Minnesota who came down to partner in our ministry. While they have dug out dirt and rock and poured concrete to extend our road at the Latin America Multiplication Center , we have poured in to them our vision for being true disciples of Jesus who are committed to making disciples. It's been a great week with them, and I think we all love the Lord Jesus even more than last week!

Lists!

I am stealing most of this blog entry from an article I was sent from the BBC, written by Jane O'Brien, called, "The Art of List-Making." She tells about a fascinating museum exhibit featuring lists made by famous people. I would love to see that! You see, I am quite a list-maker myself! Here's part of what she writes:

There are several stages to writing a list.

First there is the gentle thrill of anticipation as I contemplate the pristine paper in front of me. I may not yet have a subject for my list, but just the thought of one gives me a sense of purpose.

Second there is the light-headed buzz that gradually develops into bliss, euphoria and an all-consuming calm.

Third comes the extraordinary sense of satisfaction from having created a rigid timetable of impossible tasks that has taken a disproportionate amount of time and thought.

It doesn't matter that I will never look at it again.

Psychologists say that obsessive compulsive list makers (I guess that includes me) are trying to create an illusion of control in otherwise chaotic lives.

I see nothing wrong with that. In the words of the American abstract artist, Charles Green Shaw: "Real happiness consists in not what we actually accomplish, but what we think we accomplish."

If you want to see her full essay and also some of the photos of actual lists, including ones that are works of art, check this out: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/8537856.stm

I have a list waiting for me today. And writing a blog entry wasn't on it.

Learning to Drive in Costa Rica

Today's blog entry was crafted into my own words (with permission), but mostly written by one of our team mates, Jamie Wright.

If you’ve never driven in a developing country, simply imagine any action movie’s violent, high-speed car chase - one that includes speeding the wrong way down a one way street, splitting the difference between two cars and zipping between them, playing chicken with an oncoming bus, and every other moment where you thought to yourself, “That would never happen!” Now, take away all road signs and street names, add a bunch of motorcycles, dirt bikes, ox drawn carts, heavy machinery, and stray dogs. And that is what it’s like to drive here.

In the beginning, it was scary for me. Without street names or addresses, I was sure that I would get myself lost to such a degree that I would never return. (I've been lost many times, but I've always managed to get back home again!) Whacky directions are kind of a thing here. Take our home “address”, for example, which looks like this:

1 kilometer north of the San Isidro bridge over the Tibas River - the street that runs along the back side of San Isidro high school. When you see Cusuco's Bar on the left, turn around and go back about 50 meters. Turn in at the black gate on the east side of the street just north of the really huge house in Jardines de Cadaquez. Go 50 meters east and 50 meters south. The last house on the left.

Not. Even. Kidding. If you write that in Spanish on an envelope, the post office will actually deliver the letter to our door!

So, one of the obvious and inherent problems is that, duh, I’m from the U.S. I deal in miles, yards and feet, not kilometers, or meters, or any of the measurements that go with them. And even more duh, I had NO IDEA which way was north, or which way any other way is, for that matter. I know right and I know left. And sometimes I get those mixed up.

Once I managed to figure out how far 50 meters is and learn the critical land marks, there was still the challenge of the "being on the road" part of driving. Everybody drives crazy close to each other here! Most of the time, I can easily put my hand on the car next to me. Or the bus. Or the ox.

Now, it took me awhile, but I’ve actually gotten comfortable on the roads here. I don’t even really think about it anymore. The secret to driving in "crazy town" is knowing your limits.

As simple as that may sound, it's true; the key to driving very, very close to other cars, the trick to navigating through an itty-bitty opening in traffic, is to be keenly aware of the sides of your vehicle, and to have a clear understanding of your car’s capacity. You need to know exactly how far you extend in every direction, how fast you can pick up speed, what you can carry, and how your load impacts your car's performance, and then - this is the important part - you need to move only within those specifications.

If you aren’t clear on these things, you will - for sure - end up getting t-boned by a bus. And then they’ll show every detail on the evening news without even blurring anything out and your gory accident will cause four hours of grid-lock and non-stop honking which will give the gringa missionary, now stuck in her car somewhere behind your wreck, a headache and might make her pound on her steering wheel while shouting something like, “Let’s go, people! There are accidents on the road here ALL THE TIME - this is NOTHING new!! Come on now, GET MOVING!!” (Which, yes, is reeeally culturally insensitive.)

So, basically, I'm giving you super good advice. Especially if you don't want to cause a missionary, who is working hard to bear the spiritual fruit of patience, to stumble.

As you too well know, we often are struggling with figuring out our limits here. Many of you have offered loving advice on defining those limits. But, when you are out here, on the road, it's not that easy to say what is simply an issue of taking needed time off and what are things that God has asked for our obedience in going the extra mile. Take this week, for instance. It was a full week and I could have just said no to having an extra house guest for two nights. But, when you read River's guest book entry that says, "You're the first missionary I've ever met and definitely a positive Christan example... thanks for answering all my questions about your faith... and changing some of my paradigms," doesn't it seem that maybe God did want me to go that extra mile so River could catch a glimpse of His Son?

Learning our limits is a lot like learning to drive here. I think I've got the driving thing pretty much figured out, so I’m hopeful that we're on the right path in other choices about limits. I guess time will tell.

Now,...if I could only figure out which way is north...

(Thanks, Jamie!)

Health Update

For those of you who want to know, here is the latest on my health status. In November and December I had an acute flare-up of esophagitis. Finally that is back under control - probably due to eliminating a couple of other food irritants.

Meanwhile, though, I continued to have symptoms from interstitial cystitis - diagnosed in November. The urologist said that food allergies often cause this condition. Allergy testing showed that I needed to eliminate a number of key foods for at least four months: eggs, all dairy products, yeast and peanuts. Now I am 2 1/2 months into the diet, but have not seen any improvements. The allergist has prescribed two additional medicines for me and will see me again this coming Thursday.

Between the esophagitis and allergy diet, I have lost about 15 pounds since October. I really hope that the allergist will simply say to quit the diet restrictions. Worst case scenario, I trust I will only have to stick to the diet a month and a half more. I have the feeling the pounds will come back (probably more than I'd wish) once I dig my spoon into ice cream again... fresh bread, milk, caramel corn, butter, cheese, cookies... the wish list would go on, but I'd better stop before I drool on my laptop!

If the allergy approach does not help control the cystitis, I don't know what the next step will be. I will be honest with you: I am not too keen about the urologist I am seeing, and my horrible experience with the cystoscopy has made me gun shy. So, pray for wisdom and/or healing!

Mexico Team Visit - February 2010

MEXICO! I thank God that I was able to minister with Woody as we visited our teams in Toluca, Tenancingo and Queretaro, Mexico. We traveled to Mexico City and enjoyed a day just to ourselves, staying in the center of the city the first night. Despite the rain and cold, we really enjoyed walking through the huge Chapultepec Forest located right in the center of the city - about a mile from our hotel.

The next morning we took a bus south to the city of Toluca where we met with Miguel and Vicky. The Cadenas are serving as coaches for national church leaders. From there, we caught a ride with Matthew Reed to the city of Tenancingo where we stayed with our team leaders, Chris and Kathy Gouzoules. Over the next two days we spent time with the Reeds, the Petersons, and the Gouzoules family. We were also privileged to speak at the "graduation ceremony" for about twenty couples who had participated in a marriage enrichment course.

As an aside, it was FREEZING COLD and VERY RAINY our first four days in Mexico. There was widespread flooding and we were both chilled to the bone most of the time due to an unusual cold front. There is no heating in the homes, and each night it got down to almost freezing. Daytime highs were in the 50's. We were thankful for three thick, heavy blankets on our bed!

After a good visit in Tenancingo, we headed north by bus again, passing through flooding in the capital city. 29 deaths were reported associated with the weather there.

In the city of Queretaro we stayed with Martin and Mayte Macedo, the team leaders. It was a privilege to spend time with their family in their home for three days while we met individually with Justin and Lluvia Hoste, Jean Paul and Jessica Uribe, and Phil Jones and his fiance/wife Sandy. Woody was privileged to perform the wedding ceremony for Phil and Sandy. I helped with program details and translation for Phil's family who came from Australia for the wedding. Mexico is rich with tradition, and it was fun to be in the midst of that cultural event. (It was especially fun to see how in love Phil and Sandy were and to see them enjoying the celebration!)

While Chico Watched our Cars

While shepherds watched their flocks by night, all seated on the ground,
The angel of the Lord came down, and glory shone around.

Chico is one of my "unlikely disciples." One of my biggest joys lately has been slipping out to the street for a while on Sunday mornings to sit on a low brick wall with Chico, our church's car guard, and study the life of Christ with him. Chico is the first to admit, he's not the sharpest knife in the drawer. In fact last week he told me, "I know I don't catch on fast, but I feel like I am finally starting to understand more about who Jesus is and what God's purpose is for me!"

We shared the coolest insights together last week that had us both in tears. We were reading in the Bible together about yet another appearance of the angel of the Lord... this time to the shepherds out in their fields. We had just talked about how God sent His Son to be born in the most humble circumstances to a poor family. Now, I told Chico, God sent the big announcement through the appearance of the angelic hosts. And, to whom does He grant the privilege of being first to go see and worship the baby king? A bunch of shepherds! I explained to Chico that shepherds back then were sort of like car guards in today's world. People often overlook or look down on car guards. They aren't granted much prestige in society. But, God sent His angels to announce Jesus' birth to a group of car guards! I had Chico close His eyes and imagine what it would be like to have an angel appear and say, "Forget about the cars! I've got something way better for you. I've chosen YOU, Chico, to be the first to see the newborn Son of God, and to fall at His feet in worship. I'm not even going to tell the car owners about Him right now. It's most important that I tell YOU!

We gave pause for a few minutes as Chico eye's teared up with pride and joy, that God would choose someone like himself. Rarely has Chico been chosen for anything, let alone the biggest privilege in the history of the world.

We may count ourseles as important. But, I'm thankful that God chose the Chicos of the world. Humor me by singin my new version of "While Shepherds Watched." (I particularly like my Texas angel! Maybe angels speak Texan, and that's why some people have to stop and ponder what they meant!)

While Chico watched
Our cars by night
Seated on the low brick wall
The angel of the Lord declared
"Have no fear, God's with y'all.
The Lord is with y'all."

Don Chico thought,
"Must be a dream.
I'm just a common man."
He was reassured right then and there,
"God chose you in HIs plan,
God Chose you in His plan."

"See, long ago
man chose to sin,
But the Father sent His Son,
As a Baby King in a cattle barn,
This is His Chosen One,
It's His Own Chosen One."

"And to you we sing
This great good news,
That the whole world soon will know,
But for now, Chico, you are the one
To seek Him, off you go!
Search, Chico, off you go!"

"So, Chico, take up your guard stick,
And walk straight out of town,
Don't fear this one great chance you take
And at His feet fall down.
And at His feet fall down."

"I am just a humble car guard, Lord,
Living here in San Jose,
But I cry with joy and here I go,
Grateful You chose me today,
That You chose me today."

Just imagine humble Don Chico
Kneeling at the Savior's feet
While the people look for their nice cars,
Chico's wealth cannot be beat,
His wealth cannot be beat!

The Opposite of Ignorance

Seven sharp young people from Costa Rica and Bolivia are spending six weeks in what we call Formación Intensiva. During this time our team is intentionally investing in them in many ways: teaching, mentoring, and conversing at meal times. Together they are studying the life and strategy of Christ, cross-cultural communication, a chronological study of the Old Testament, and basic missions principles. We even watch pertinent movies together and discuss their content – this week it was Luther, a great modern bio-pic about the church reformer.

One of these young missionaries is Joana Quiroga. Joana is from Bolivia and is family to us. I don’t say “like family,” because certain people won their way into our hearts during our twelve years in Bolivia, and Joana is one we have loved from the moment she was born. Her mom is Norma’s older sister, so that makes Joana a “granddaughter” to us. She is 23 years old and is a top-notch missionary, serving on our team in Cochabamba, Bolivia, ministering to children. She is staying with us on weekends during these six weeks.

Here are some of Joana’s thoughts after finishing her first week in Formation 2009.

I’m so happy to be in Costa Rica and to be part of the Formation group. It’s been a week of blessing - studying the life of Christ, the Bible, communication and more! “The mark of spiritual maturity is not how much you understand, but how much you put to use. In the spiritual realm, the opposite of ignorance is not knowledge, but obedience.” –H. Hendrix

God has put a huge challenge in front of me, and I pray that the Father’s desire for me will be become more real each day: to be an authentic disciple of Jesus Christ.

Wrights' Stolen Car - And God's Hand in Returning It (We Trust!)

Here is a quick low down of our co-workers' ordeal with the theft of their car.

The Wright family went to the US Fourth of July Celebration here in Costa Rica and paid a guy to watch their car. When they were ready to leave, the car was gone and the "guard" said he saw it go, but claimed that he thought it was Steve driving it away. (Yeah, right! Steve is 6'6" and has a huge beard, so it is probably a bit hard to not recognize him!)

Steve filed police reports, knowing that rarely helps. Meanwhile, many of us were praying it would be returned intact.

A few days later they got a call from a guy who asked if they wanted their car back. Steve told him of course they did! The caller offered to sell it back to them for $600. Steve told him no, and suggested that instead he should use the profit from the stolen car to start a new life, since his current lifestyle was not a good option. The guy said that maybe God was telling him to just give them back the car.

The next day another guy called about selling them back the car. Steve said he wanted to talk to the first guy, but the second said that he had just gotten out of prison for stealing cars and didn't want to be involved any longer. But, this caller told Steve to contact any one of the unmarked taxi drivers at the airport, since all of them know about all stolen cars and could vouch for the legitimacy of the caller - that he would carry through on returning the car if Steve paid him! (Make sense so far?)

Steve called the police, who told him, "We think today we will find your car!" Steve (an ex-cop) spent most of the day with the cops, and they checked out downtown parking lots and found the car in one of them! With Steve's help, they staked out the parking lot and caught one of the thieves at 3AM, trying to retrieve the car. It ends up that the guy who supposedly guarded the car in the first place is likely part of the ring of car thieves. Meanwhile, Steve has had to do extra paperwork, like applying for a new title. Now they are waiting the DA to authorize the release of the vehicle.

I didn't pray with a lot of faith, I admit, but I sure give God all the credit that it looks like that soon the Wrights will have their wheels back!

Bittersweet Memories: The Fourth of July

For various reasons, today my mind has been full of bittersweet memories of the Fourth of July – some from 2009 and some from years back. Here are a few of those thoughts and memories…

There are two sad memories I will always associate with July 4th, 2009. The first and foremost is that one of our dear friends and close relatives, Woody’s Aunt Jeanne, left behind her temporary citizenship in the United States of America, to claim her eternal citizenship in heaven. Aunt Jeanne, we will miss you. To put it more personally, I will miss you. Often Woody’s mom has a slip of tongue and call Woody “Wilfred.” Wilfred, or Uncle Bill, is Woody’s mom’s younger brother, the husband of Aunt Jeanne. Long before we were married, I knew I was truly a part of the family when Evelyn started to accidentally call me Jeanne. The name stuck, and I’m still often called Jeanne. Again, Aunt Jeanne, I will miss you. It’s awfully hard to be so far from family at moments like these.

The second sad thing I will always associate with this date in 2009 has to do with the US 4th of July picnic in Costa Rica. Our friends and team mates, Steve and Jamie Wright, helped us out with our recent short term team. They worked long hours for those ten days and more, so they were very excited to spend the day as a family with their three kids at the expat holiday celebration. After the day’s fun activities, they returned to the “guarded” parking area to find their car stolen. I’m so, so sorry, Steve and Jamie.

One other small, bad memory of today… While mowing the lawn, I got stung by bees for the third time this year. This time I had to inject myself with a steroid shot to control my allergic reaction to bee stings. We need to figure out where those bees come from and somehow get rid of them!

There were bright moments on this red, white and blue holiday. Kari was the chief holiday planner at our house. Woody is currently in Bolivia, visiting our teams there. Phil, our house guest, didn’t even know until yesterday why we celebrate the Fourth of July (he’s Australian, so is granted a pass!). Kari opted to educate our Aussie guest and provide a bit of “home away from home” for us. She fixed chicken pasta salad and baked brownies. During dinner she played patriotic songs on “YouTube,” including The 1812 Overture, Arethra Franklin’s version of My Country ‘Tis of Thee, and the Gaithers singing the national anthem. Phil made a fire in the fireplace for a marshmallow roast and then we watched the Chicago Fireworks via YouTube on our back balcony. Good job, Kari! (Phil enjoyed it, too, and learned a lot about US culture and history.)

Let me share with you a few other interesting memories of 4th of July celebrations. Kari asked me to share one of my favorite childhood memories of this holiday. I had to laugh aloud as I told her a good story with a bad ending. One time our family had a picnic in our back yard. My mom made one of my favorite desserts, “Ber Schoeller’s Bars.” This rich dessert is comprised of buttery (very buttery) graham crackers drenched in chocolate and walnuts. I loved them so much that I just couldn’t stop eating them. I really overdid it and paid the price. We’ll leave the story at that!

Our first year living outside the USA was also a bittersweet memory with a similar, but much more painfully dramatic ending. We hadn’t lived long in Bolivia when our first Fourth of July rolled around. We were both feeling nostalgic, so we went out and bought hot dogs to be our token representation of typical US holiday fare. We listened on our shortwave radio to the Voice of America as we quietly ate our tube steaks. Before the evening was out, both of us had come down with virulent cases of acute Salmonellosis. We had a apartment with two tiny bathrooms – a small feature we greatly appreciated on July 4, 1978. We never willingly ate hot dogs again during our twelve years living in Bolivia!

The best story of the Fourth of July was well summed up by the pastor of our Illinois church, Alpine Chapel.

Freedom.

It was the last word on the lips of William Wallace in the movie Braveheart – the very thing for which he died.

It was the challenge given by many of our nation’s forefathers, including the oft-quoted statement of Patrick Henry, who was also willing to die for it.

It is the thing for which soldiers throughout our history have put their lives on the line - soldiers whose sacrifice we honor and memorialize in our nation’s capital, and at parks and monuments all across our nation.

Yet, sadly, it may very well be the last thing we focus on at the typical Fourth of July celebration.

This year, why not spend some time, either alone or at your celebration, thinking about what freedom means to you – as well as what it cost. For believers in Christ, we know the ultimate freedom that is found only in the salvation which came at the ultimate cost of Jesus’ death. Through Him, our citizenship is not just as Americans, free from political tyranny; we are citizens of a different kingdom, free from the penalty and power of sin.

Aunt Jeanne, while I watch the fireworks in the skies tonight, I promise to remember the hope of joining you in our true homeland kingdom as soon as I can!

Disturb Us, Lord

Disturb us, Lord When we are too well pleased with ourselves,
When our dreams have come true
Because we have dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
Because we sailed too close to the shore.

Disturb us, Lord, when, with the abundance of things we possess,
We have lost our thirst for the waters of life;
And, having fallen in love with life as we know it,
We have ceased to dream of eternity;
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
We have allowed our vision of the new Heaven to dim.

Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wider seas
Where storms will show your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.

We ask You to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push us into the future In strength, courage, hope, and love.

Sir Francis Drake -1577

In the Line of Fire

Tonight I was reading an essay by John Eldredge. He wrote about those times in which we feel like God is silent. Why does he not hear our cry to take us out of the line of fire? As Eldredge writes, that's not where we are in The Story right now. In fact, we are promised to find ourselves in the line of fire. Jesus told us clearly that the thief comes to steal and to kill and to destroy. So, why are we so surprised when he actually steals and kills and destroys?

I'm studying the book of Daniel right now. In chapter eight it speaks of the enemy as the master of intrigue. The original word used here has to do with loosening or tightening knots. Right now, our enemy is the master at tightening the knots in our lives. But, we do have the promise that one day we will find ourselves in the point in The Story in which the Master at Loosening Knots will win the day.