Syrian Refugees: Where Fear and Faith Collide

     On November 13, 2015 Muslim terrorists stormed into the world of Parisians taking lives, hostages, injuring the innocent, and striking fear into the heart of millions around the world. They absolutely did what they planned to do. Equally as important to the dead bodies is the fear in our hearts. It's what they do. They are terrorists after all. They inflict terror.

In the wake of this tragedy, a lot of people are ready to shut and lock the iron doors to our ivory palace (America) and refuse entry to the masses. That's fear. Yes, it's possible (even plausible) that some of those fleeing will end up as terrorists in our own back yard. There is wisdom in the multitude of counsel. We should look at the situation with wide-open eyes that seek to protect the lives of innocent Americans. 

I totally agree with that.

Yet, I'm not really worried about how the American government will deal with the problem. I'm not responsible for the American government.

I am responsible for me. 

I am responsible for how I respond to the broken and even for how I respond to those who would seek to destroy my life. Prayer is important and we should each of us, every one, seek the face of God as we never have before. But, we'd better, as believers, put some feet to those prayers. We'd better actually go out there and do that love your neighbor thing. We'd better stop responding as Americans and start responding as children of the King. Remember when God told the Israelites to treat the foreigner just as a native born Israelite? Remember when Jesus said whatever you do to the least of these you do it unto me? Can you really imagine looking into the eyes of Jesus and telling him that the risk was just too great?

For years Mozambique descended into a war that killed thousands upon thousands and displaced millions. And though today we enjoy a sort of pseudo-peace, I think war is pretty much in the back of our minds most of the time. You see, the first generation of people to know a free Mozambique are only 23 years old. My generation of Mozambicans were all teenagers when peace came to Moz for the first time. I have had the privilege to sit and listen to their stories and the stories of the older generations. I've listened as a grown man grappled with forgiving the soldier who drove a knife through his father's heart in front of his ten-year-old eyes. I've listened as a friend told me that he watched his mother being gang raped. I've heard stories of people kidnapped, maimed and killed. I've heard countless stories of how soldiers would take infants and bash their skulls against a tree. I've listened to stories of how people would dig their own graves, climb in, and then wait for the bullet that would end their lives. I've heard how people ate grass, banana peels, dirt and drank dirty water to just stay alive one more day. People walked miles and miles to get to refugee camps in neighboring countries. People still talk about "during the war" as if it was last year and not almost 25 years ago because the scars of war still remain on their hearts. It doesn't go away.

That's what people are fleeing. 

Loving people like that - the ones with scars, and terror, and distrust built into the very fiber of their being isn't easy. Wading into the messiness and brokenness of people's lives is hard work. It's not even rewarding most of the time. For every tiny little victory you achieve, there are ten giant obstacles to be faced. There's always that heartbreak and realization that they don't love me or even appreciate me - just what they're able to get from me. Loving wounded people creates its own wounds in your heart. It's an often thankless task.

Yet, the job of being Jesus' hands and feet isn't about me. It isn't about how I feel when I do it. It's not even about "them." It's about HIM. It's about his glory and his glorious grace for a world so desperately in need of His redemption. What in the world has made us think that Jesus' most pressing concern is our safety and security? Think of the generations that have come before us who were beaten, and jailed, and burned, and speared, and shot, and maimed and killed. Don't you think they were afraid too? Yet, when the moment counted, they did not shrink back in fear. They chose danger because though the enemy can kill the body, he cannot capture a soul that Christ has set free.

What if these aren't the end times? What if this is our generation's moment to let Jesus shine? What if one day our great-great-grandchildren and all of history is judging us now by how we loved? What if this moment is the moment that leads to one last great revival before Jesus comes back to claim his own? What if this is our chance to let faith be more important that fear?

This issue for me is not principally about the refugees or how the American government deals with those refugees. I hope we can help people who are giving up their whole lives to gain life. But, it's not even about that. We, especially as American Christians, have sat in our comfort for too long. We need to get dirty because our God is dirty. I don't mean that to be sacrilegious. But, our magnificent, holy God wallows in the mud and mirk of our lives. The nasty and the desperate have not turned him away. The time has come for us to wade into the mire of the depravity and brokenness of the dying. 

You will get dirty. You will be more broken yourself. You might even die.

Revelation 12 speaks of those men and women who "did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death." It is time for us to answer the call. Yes, answer the call about the refugees. But, more than that, to answer His call to dying world. It is a call to give up our comfort and our way of life for something that is so much greater than our blip of a second on planet earth. To many to name have gone before us and paid the price. When the baton is now passed to us will we turn our eyes and close our ears?

I'm not saying we should be foolish. The Bible has plenty to say about wisdom and counsel. But, I am saying to live like those who cannot die. I am saying to live unselfishly and love lavishly. I am saying be generous and kind. I am saying pick up your cross. Maybe that is foolish - to the world anyhow. Jesus was radical and if you don't know that, you may not know Jesus.

This is not an American problem.

But it is a Christian command.

#PrayForParis and so much more......

      This morning after waking up, I read my Bible and then I helped a friend move her stuff. I went food shopping and had tea with a friend. This afternoon, I made bread. Tonight some friends are coming over to watch a movie. A very normal, easy, enjoyable Saturday.
      Yet, half way around the world the city of Paris is waking up to horror. There is nothing normal, or easy, or enjoyable about this day. Indeed it wasn't a bad dream. Terror did strike. Loved ones did die. Injuries have made life different. What once was is no more. How do we cope with that? How do you go out for dinner and never come home?
     My heart hurts for our broken world. Our world so in need of a God who saves. I sit in total disbelief at a world who grasps for the answer to their hearts cry in a million devastating ways. There is so much brokenness is our world. There is so much evil. In our desire to be open and tolerant, we have accepted everything. And that everything is killing us. It's okay to call evil, evil. Jesus did that. It's okay to hate evil.
       In the last few days, I've been thinking a lot about Genesis 6 where the Bible says, "The Lord saw how great the wickedness of the human race had become on the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of the human heart was only evil all the time. The Lord regretted that he had made human beings on the earth, and his heart was deeply troubled."
     I wonder if he looks at us and feels that same sorrow. He won't flood the earth again. He promised us that. This time, he'll just come back as that rider on a white horse whose name is Faithful and True.
     I've seen several posts that say, "Even so come, Lord Jesus!" And I have to tell you that whenever I see this statement, my heart feels divided. Yes, it's a biblical statement and yes, I want to see my Savior face to face. I long to embrace him. I long to kneel before him. I long to see those eyes. Yet, "Even so come, Lord Jesus!" signifies the end of time. The opportunity to choose Christ will have ended and all people will live out their eternity with or without Christ. And that to me is tragic. There are so many more people who will live out a Christ-less eternity. There is so much work that needs to be done. So much love that needs to be spread.
     "The lost" is sort of a vague term. I mean, most of my American life, most of the people I knew were "Christians." They went to church or at least had heard the gospel. But, I didn't run in circles where I had deep relationships with the lost. "The lost" were always people 'out there' who needed Jesus. But, now, they have faces, and names, and stories. For them, choosing Christ means not choosing your family. The cost to be a Christian is significant and they are afraid to do it. And the moment that he splits the eastern sky, their chance to choose is no more. I often find my heart singing these lines of the "Battle Hymn of the Republic":

In the beauty of the lilies, Christ was born across the sea

With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me

As he died to make men holy, Let us live to make men free

while God is marching on.

We can almost hear the trumpet sound, the Lord’s is near.

There are still so many people, his message the must hear

Father give us one more moment, one more day, one more year

with God we’re marching on.

    When terrorism like Paris occurs, it breaks my heart. I hurt for those who are hurting. I'm angry at a world that turns a blind eye to truth in the name of tolerance. I worry that this will happen in my own backyard and next time it will be people that I knew who are counted among the injured and dead. I think, indeed this attack will usher in that Rider on a white horse, and I will see all that I didn't do. I'll realize in that moment how much more I could have given.

      So, I encourage you, whether your mission field is your own backyard or a backyard thousands of miles away, give more. Try harder. Love deeper.  Jesus is coming. I believe his return is near. And "the lost" have names, and faces and stories. If I grieve this much over their eternal fate, surely their Father grieves even more. We don't have the luxury of posting #prayingforparis on our FaceBook status and going on about our lives. We cannot ignore the responsibility we bear any longer.

     The famous missionary, C.T. Studd, who served and loved people in China, India, and parts of Africa once wrote a poem, that in part said, "Only one life, 'twill soon be past, only what's done for Christ will last." This is a call. It is a call to war. Satan has his army ready and willing to do battle. Will you pick up your sword? Will you engage the enemy? Will you stand up and fight when everyone else goes home? Will you risk what's important to carry the Name? No, it's not easy. I think it will get more and more difficult as our days on earth linger. It will cost us something precious. Maybe it will cost life itself. But, that's okay, too. Because Matthew 10:28 reminds us they can kill the body, but not the soul.

Our Captain has sounded the battle cry. How will we respond?

Amazing Grace Isn't Selective

Grace is anything but comfortable. We all want it, but very few of us are willing to give it in the same manner that we desire it. The unfortunate thing about grace is that it is given freely to everyone (read: all of us) who need it, without reserve. Our human minds that ascribe levels to everything think that some are more or less deserving of grace depending on what they have - or haven't - done. But, that's limited, human grace. I don't serve a human god and I certainly don't serve a limited god, so that's just not how it works.

A few weeks ago, news broke that the eldest Duggar child had inappropriately touched some of his sisters.  Facebook was instantly flooded with people who lambasted the Duggar parents for not taking their son immediately to the police. Josh was called a child molester and pedophile, and much worse. Anyone who dared talk of grace was ridiculed. Whether or not the Duggar parents handled the more than decade old situation correctly, there was certainly no room for grace. Only punishment.

I hate to tell ya'll, but public scorn and media attention victimized those girls far more than their brother ever did. Anything like that is shameful, embarrassing. Can you imagine the whole world knowing every single detail of what happened and that abuse being written about, talked about, and played out on national television? Those girls have been harmed more in the last few weeks than anything that their brother did.

Now enter Bruce/Caitlyn Jenner. Some people who called for grace for Josh Duggar are spewing vile things on social media and withholding that same grace for Jenner. Others who called for Josh's head on a silver platter, say the only appropriate response to Jenner is love and grace.

My friends, this just cannot be.

You can tell me all day long that Duggar's sin has victims and Jenner doesn't have victims. You can tell me that Duggar's actions were actually a sin while Jenner is just confused. Or maybe you'll tell me that we don't really know what our reaction should be because the Bible doesn't say a thing - not one thing - about transgendered people. Well, it doesn't have a whole lot to say about child molesters, either (that's not support for pedophiles or a suggestion that incarceration isn't appropriate.)

Here's what I know beyond a shadow of a doubt. Bruce Jenner is deeply confused. The words that come to mind are sad, tragic, wounded. I feel so deeply for this man who is so uncomfortable in his own skin, that he had to create new skin to try and find comfort in. Not only did he go to great lengths to "change" his skin, he also had to splash it all over the front pages of every magazine, news paper, and internet story from here to kingdom come.

I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God did not make a mistake with Bruce Jenner. He did not put a female soul in a male body. Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that Jenner's struggle is not real. I believe that it is. But gender identity issues, I believe, are the result of a fallen, broken, sinful, hyper-sexualized society - just like so many other issues. Just because you feel it doesn't mean you give into it. That's truth whether we're talking about eating that second piece of cake or changing your gender.

I have so much compassion for Jenner. I can't imagine being that uncomfortable with yourself. I have compassion for his family. I mean for his children, his grandchildren.....he suddenly becomes what - Mom and Grandma? Even if they've also bought the lie that one can choose his/her gender, that change comes with a price.

I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jenner needs compassion and grace. Anyone spewing hatred towards him doesn't have a real concept of how much grace they have received.

Yes, Duggar broke the law. Jenner has broken no law. I get that. Anyone that is breaking the law deserves punishment. Victims deserve protection. I'm not denying any of that. What I am saying is that both Duggar and Jenner are products of a society that has made sexuality a god. Both are products of a society that says, "If it feels good, do it."

Punishment for crimes has to exist in a society. Without it, all of society would be in total chaos. BUT, even for that criminal who should be/was disciplined, grace, in all its scandalous glory, exists. When I was a child in AWANA I learned this definition of grace, "undeserved, unearned favor and kindness."

Favor, ya'll. Favor.

Favor and kindness for Josh Duggar. Favor and kindness for Bruce Jenner.

Gosh, yes. Favor and kindness.

Bruce Jenner will never be a woman. His DNA will forever be male. Surgeons can cut and re-build and make and Jenner will still be a "man-made woman." God didn't create Caitlyn Jenner and when he looks at Jenner's heart, he doesn't see Caitlyn. He sees a child he made in so much turmoil, confusion, and pain.

So, yes, ya'll. Pour out some love and grace for Bruce/Caitlyn Jenner. Love him. Pray for him. Beg God for the healing of his soul. The enemy has told him a great lie and he is so in need of understanding and grace. If we as Christians can't give him that, we don't really understand the God that we claim to serve.

And while you're at it. Go ahead and share some of that grace with Josh Duggar. Does he deserve it? Of course not. Do his crimes deserve punishment? Absolutely, yes. But, does he get grace? Yep. Just like you and me.

A lot more could be said about both Duggar and Jenner. We could talk a lot about their choices and the harm they have caused themselves and the hurt they have inflicted on others (even if you don't think it's to the same degree) We can talk about the church and the appropriate response to crime, abuse, and sexual and social perversion.We can talk about the implications that their choices have on our increasingly godless society and those are all discussions that we can and should have.

But, there's just no room for tearing down wounded people. Unless you are personal friends of these families, your opinion isn't all that important. What is important is how you walk out your faith - what you say and what you do. You don't get to choose who deserves grace or love - or at least you shouldn't. In Matthew 6, it says, "give and it will be given to you. pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” That's talking about judgment and forgiveness. You'll find no forgiveness present in the absence of grace. Since I want grace "pressed down, shaken together, and running over" I guess I will apply that same rule to others.

That's not to say there isn't room for calling out sin. There absolutely is. Sin is sin and far too much damage has been done to our society by Christians keeping quiet about sin.  Jesus called out sin. We should call out sin and stand up - even if we're standing alone - for truth. But Jesus' purpose for calling out sin was always so that the sinner might be led to repentance. If your calling out sin isn't leading anybody to repentance, you're just a clanging symbol right out of I Corinthians 13. In the grand eternal scheme of things, once repentance has occurred, what Jesus sought, shed his blood and died for has occurred. The debt has been paid.

Maybe that's not comfortable for us. But, it just is. I once heard a pastor put it like this:
Think about a bull's eye. The center of the bull's eye is heaven. Anything outside the center mark is hell. Now think of the best person you have ever known. Someone shouted out Mother Teresa. So, the pastor asked, On a scale of 1 to 10 - ten being perfect where do you think Mother Teresa is? Ten is perfect. Ten is God. So she can't be 10, but where does she fall? Someone said "nine." Well, ten is the mark. Ten is the bull's eye. Ten is perfection, so she missed it. That puts her in hell. Then the pastor asked us to think of the worst person society has ever known. Someone else said "Hitler." The congregation decided that he was a one. He missed the mark by a lot more than mother Teresa. BUT, they both missed the mark. It took Jesus death on the cross to save them both. The punishment that Jesus accepted on behalf of Mother Teresa was exactly the same as the punishment he accepted for Adolf Hitler. So, without the grace of God that saves and transforms they both end up in hell. They both miss the mark. You either hit it or you don't, there is no almost. That's why we all need the saving grace of Jesus.

Grace isn't fair. Grace isn't selective. But, grace is amazing.

So, let it amaze you today!

That Little Big Thing Called Sin.....

Okay.....well I'm going to wade into the waters of the 'Duggar Scandal.' I don't watch the Duggars' show, and never have - except for those few occasions that I watched an episode or two with my sister while I was on home assignment.

However, I can't escape the unadulterated venom and hate being spewed forth on Facebook by Christians and non-Christians. The whole situation makes me mad, and really sad, too. I'm sad because what happened to those girls and what Josh did, doesn't just go away. It creates scars. The scars may be long healed, but they're there as a forever reminder of what happened. That's a scar that no child should carry into adulthood. And, now, all these years later their pain, their embarrassment, their shame is being put on very public display. How utterly awful. Maybe even more painful that what actually happened.

People are screaming from the roof tops that he is a child molester. What he did was wrong, and he knew it was wrong. What he did was disgusting and repulsive. But, let's remember that he was a child himself. I do not know anyone, who, if this happened in their family would haul their fourteen-year-old off to let the law deal with him. To have him registered as a sex-offender FOR LIFE. To ruin his chances for college, a good job, a loving family. Yes, anyone would be heartbroken for their daughters, but you'd be equally heartbroken for your son. Maybe even more so for your son. You'd be wondering how in the world this child that you love could do that - especially to another child that you love. You'd be wondering where you went wrong, how you didn't see this coming. Every instinct within you would want to protect your son just as much as those instincts would tell you to rescue your daughter.

Maybe they didn't seek the best help for their son. Maybe they should have sent him to a program, or talked to a different police officer, or.....maybe they should have done a hundred different things. But, they were trying to do the best they could do just like any blindsided parent would.

Josh's sin doesn't make him or anyone in his family incapable of having an opinion on sin. Lying is a sin. But, I've lied. I still believe it's a sin. Every time I catch one of my little kiddos in a lie, I call them on it. I tell them it's a sin and that we don't do it because it breaks God's heart.

Maybe I'm more capable of recognizing sin and it's damaging effects because I am a sinner.

They haven't pretended to be anything they are not. They are imperfect people trying to live before a holy and perfect God. They (and we) don't and never will attain that standard of perfection until we trade in our fallen world and our sinful souls for the ones waiting on the other side of the veil.

That's what sin does. It lures us, calling us for that momentary pleasure, that costs us so much more in the end. A man with a precious little family has lost his job and his family is losing their show. Sure, there are other jobs and life will go on for everybody without that show - even the Duggars. Those, in the grand scheme of things, are actually quite small. But Josh Duggar and his parents, family members who weren't even alive twelve years ago, his wife, his little children, and the sisters he harmed will have to deal with all those old feelings and new ones too as it is played out on a national stage. Is that really fair? Do you really want to pay for all your youthful indiscretions well into the adult life you've built for yourself?

Of course you don't.

And thank God, that's not the price that God requires of us. God sent His holy and perfect son to pay the price for the wickedness of our souls. He remembers our sin NO MORE. He buries it as far as the east is from the west.

I don't think it's right, to call for grace and turn our backs on justice. One doesn't really exist without the other. However, all these years later, after repentance, what is justice? The law can't do anything anymore. Is is justice to drag a man, his wife (who knew all along), and his young children through the mud? Is is justice to smear a family and accuse them of all sorts of things and call them all kinds of horrible names? Is it justice to have to explain to the world every disgusting detail of your sin? I'm not saying consequences don't exist or that laws shouldn't be followed. I'm just asking you what is justice in this situation and who exactly is qualified to apply those consequences. I sure don't want to, because I know I don't have a leg to stand on.

I hope and pray that those girls have found the healing that they need. I hope that they have allowed the precious love of Jesus to penetrate so deeply into their souls that there is no room left for the damage that their brother's sin caused. I also hope that Josh Duggar will allow that same love to wash his sins whiter than snow. Surely as Christians we can see that there is no room for guilt and shame. Jesus' blood washed all that away.

That's the thing about grace. It's scandalous.  It's undeserved. Completely unearned - washing away the darkest sin from the most vile sinner. We all want this kind of grace. We all are in desperate need of this scandalous grace.

Don't demand grace for yourself that you aren't willing to give to others. Don't be so sure about what you would do until you are in that very situation. Don't demand that a person pay for a sin God is no longer charging him with. Don't be a part of the crowd that's "shooting the wounded."

If anything, I hope this story calls each of us to a higher standard of living. I hope this teaches us the long-lasting, life-destroying, painful effects of sin. Satan demands a hidden cost, and when that payment comes due, it's is always much higher price to pay than we ever dreamed.

Jesus says that price has already been paid.

So Long, Farewell

Our YWAM Nampula Team

Praying blessings over our friends!

Moving Truck (Mozambican Style!)

This morning, we said our final goodbyes to our dear friends and teammates and I watched them head off to their new adventure with a little lump in my throat. Some of these folks I've known since my first trip to Mozambique in 2006. Others I've known since my very earliest days in Mozambique. And, some, I've only had the opportunity to know since I came to Lichinga in 2013. However, they are all dear, sweet friends and I will miss the greatly.

I will miss their wisdom and friendship. I will miss sharing meals and doing life with them. I will miss their sweet children who have all been a part of my school over the last three years. I will miss the precious faces of my little friends, their laughter, their hugs, their persistent questions, "Tia, Jennifer, can we....?" 

In my flesh, I want to scream about the unfairness of it all. I mean, all of you know what it's like to say goodbye to someone whether it be forever or just because distance is creating a void. Things were just fine the way they were. Our team was healthy and happy and we valued their place on our team. In a missionary's life, life is often marked by goodbye on one side of the ocean or the other and it is a word you come to dread.

However, God moved in some pretty grand ways to take this team to Nampula - a place where there is no YWAM base and where there are people desperate for the truth of the Gospel. So, I'm excited for all the possibilities and plans that God has for them and the Makonde people.

There will certainly be a void for awhile as our team adjusts and evens out again. Some of these folks have been here for over 15 years. Lori and Victor met and married here. Within the walls of the DTS, some of these folks learned to love Jesus and each other. Leaving was a significant step as well. But, I have to be confident that this "see you later" is for the benefit of the kingdom and that little "hiccup" in our hearts is so worth the soul of another.

Every sacrifice that it is made for the cross of Christ is undoubtedly worth it. Whatever price we pay to know Jesus, to show His love, share His light, and spread His grace is so very small. He gave all and, surely so can I. The answer to the Savior  - whatever He may ask - is always, always, yes.

However, I do long for the day when there are no more goodbyes (whether temporary or permanent). I long for the day when I do not struggle so with my old man. When hurt is something I don't really even remember because I am with the One who loved all my hurt away. What a glorious day, when I can hug the ones I've loved and lost. I welcome the day when evil, and selfishness, and sin no longer rule the day and it is no longer necessary to pay the ultimate price to name the name of Jesus. How beautiful will that day be when the only thing on my agenda is loving and worshipping my Savior.

With the tumult in our world, the evil, and all the chaos I believe that we are living in those last moments. Maybe those "last moments" will be a few years, maybe it will be fifty - or even more. But, it is evident that our world is spiraling downward and losing all sight of the One who came to save them. 

On the day of goodbyes, that I wish I didn't have to be said, I want to encourage you that nothing you give up or do without will even matter for a millisecond when you see HIS face. In fact, I'll bet we will all wish that we gave more and sought our on pleasure less. No earthly gain will have any significance in that moment. All that will matter will be Him and those we helped to know Him. 

So, please, be ever diligent in hearing His still small voice. Say goodbye. Give more. Love selflessly. Value souls over things. He is coming and all this regret and sadness and difficulty will pass. What will remain are those who will worship Jesus forever with us. May we all invest in the expansion of that forever kingdom and its forever God.

Nothing else matters. Nothing else at all. 

Let's Start at the Very Beginning

The beginning of the Gospels (well, Matthew and Luke, anyway) are widely-excepted as “Christmas” passages. I recently felt challenged by the Lord to read through the entire New Testament, but I had resisted a bit. I mean, I know the Gospels. I know the life of Jesus. I was raised in church, I know the stories. Most of them I could tell you backwards and forwards. Couldn’t we just skip ahead to like Acts and all those Pauline Epistles? That’s the good stuff. The practical stuff that I like and feel challenged by. Yes, let’s do that - and anyway, that’s practically the whole New Testament. Right?

But, in my innermost being, I felt like I was supposed to begin with the book of Matthew and read all the way through. I know there will be many things that God will reveal to me in the coming days about the life of Jesus, places in my life that do not line up with His, places where I need to let the miraculous Jesus in to do his thing.

Today, I began with Matthew 1. This chapter is honestly just a list of who begat who. I mean, really. What spiritual significance is there to that? Verse 17 says there were 14 generations between Abraham and David, 14 generations between David to captivity, and 14 generations from captivity to the birth of Christ. That’s 42 generations. Forty-two who-begat-whos. That’s a lot of names.

But, it’s verse 6 that stuck out to me:

v6. and to Jesse was born David the king. And to David was born Solomon by her who had been the wife of Uriah.

We all know the story of King David. He went up on to the roof (where he wasn’t supposed to be at that time of day) and saw Bathsheba bathing. He thought she was pretty. He summoned her. And, any person who is summoned by the king goes. He takes her to his bed and he gets her pregnant. He calls her husband home from the battlefield so that he will sleep with his wife and he will think that the child is his. Uriah, being the man of honor that he is, will not go home. He won’t sleep with his wife. He sleeps in the doorway. He will not go “off-duty.” His men are out there fighting and he is itching to get back out there with his men. David finally accepts that Uriah will not do what he wants, so he sends him out to battle and sets him up to lose his life in battle. Uriah dies. The child of adultery is born and he dies. David’s house is in tumult. Discord. Rebellion. Betrayal. Jealousy. Rape. Murder. The life of the God-chosen king becomes the stuff that soap-operas are made of.

Yet, even in all this God gave David an heir through this marriage through which He would send His precious son to save our unworthy souls. Does that not just blow your mind? In the first chapter of Matthew we are reminded that God has not forgotten that Bathsheba was the wife of Uriah. But, He had also not forgotten His promise to David.

There is such redemption in Jesus. Our very worst moments. Those moments that we just die if anyone really knew about. Those moments that have caused us the greatest regrets, the most tears, the most shame - there is redemption even in those moments. Because of He great love for me, God is taking my very worst moments and He is redeeming them to be my greatest. There is no doubt that David, and his whole household, paid greatly for His sin. My mama used to write in every Bible that she gave me, “Sin will take you further that you want to go. Keep you longer that you want to stay. And cost you more that you want to pay.” How true that is. Sin is costly - in every way. It robs our peace and our joy. It robs us of our souls. But when we give those things be they actions or thoughts - be they well-known or secretive, when we humble ourselves, when we give them to Jesus, Jesus can redeem even those things.

Jesus doesn’t leave us where we are. That’s what Satan does. He leads us to that sin let’s us have our fun and then lets us wallow in our guilt and shame. He is our greatest taunter. But, Jesus…..Jesus, says, “Where are your accusers? Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more.” Jesus says, “I have plans to prosper you and not to harm you.” Jesus always trades up. For your tumult He will give peace. For your guilt He will give redemption. For your sorrow He will give joy.

Whatever we are holding on to, it’s momentary pleasure is just not worth the damage to our souls. It’s just not. Depriving yourself of whatever it is may be difficult for a season. Satan will tempt you to return to it often and with his own brand of justification. But, we have a choice. Jesus and the future or Satan and the here and now. It’s really that easy - and that hard. And you cannot win the war today. But today, you can win the battle. Tomorrow will be another battle that Jesus will give you the strength to overcome. Today you just have to overcome today. That’s it. And, that’s possible. Right?

Here’s to overcoming. And to our worst moments being redeemed into something beautiful. I can follow a God like that anywhere.

That Miracle Baby

It seems that Christmas rolls around faster and faster each year. The lines at the stores get longer, the gifts pile higher, and our grasp on what is eternal is more and more illusive. Without a doubt, the season brings joy. People are more generous. They laugh more, they give more. They love more. What's not to love about that?
But, this wonderful, magical, beautiful season, also magnifies what wounds us. We feel the gap of those relationships that just aren't what they should be (or could be) a little more acutely. Our unanswered prayers ring just a little loudly in our ears. The empty chair at our table reminds us that someone that we love won't make Christmas memories with us anymore. Regrets seem more like failures that we just can't overcome. The sting of betrayal is like a tumor sitting in the middle of your chest. You know the pain you feel - what you can't do, what you wish you could do, how you would change your situation if you could. Life hurts and as much as we love this season, let's be honest, hurt is just more..........hurtful.
But hurt is also why HE came.
Yes, He came to save us from our sins. Without that tiny babe who made a way to the cross, we'd all be just miserable old fools. I don't want to in any way detract from what our Father did when He sent His only son to abolish our sin and open up the door to our heavenly home. Praise God for that!
But, Jesus also came to give us hope. Hope for our future. Hope that what breaks us will be healed. All this is a result of sin. God made a perfect world where sin, sorrow, and sickness had never entered in. When Adam and Even sinned, they opened the door for all of that to enter in. Very often, we choose the very thing that destroys us. Sometimes, others choose for us and their own sin and decisions are the source of our sorrow. Oh, my friend, know that I understand your tears, your longings, your hopes for what could  be and what we want to be. The best thing that I can tell you is our Jesus restores, and heals, and makes all things new. Isn't that the best news that you can think of?
Tonight at the Christmas Eve service, we sang "It Came Upon A Midnight Clear." Now I've sung that song a million times in my 34 years and it's never particularly been one of my favorite Christmas hymns. But, tonight I really listened to the words and the words to the third verse captured my soul for all those who are hurting, hoping for a different kind of Christmas, and yet will be disappointed by the reality of what is. Listen:

O ye, beneath life's crushing load

Whose forms are bending low,

Who toil along the climbing way

With painful steps and slow,

Look now for glad and golden hours

Come swiftly on the wing;

O rest beside the weary road

and hear the angels sing.

Sometimes life is crushing and we can't stand beneath the weight of it. Some days we barely have the strength to put one foot in front of the other, much less carry our burdensome loads one more step. But glad and golden hours are coming! It may take longer that we want, but they are coming.

You see that baby in the manger, was hope, and redemption, and grace, and peace. He was. But, on the night of his birth, he was just a baby, too. He was a scrawny little newborn who needed his mama to nurse him and swaddling clothes to keep him warm. In so many ways, he was just like hundreds of other Bethlehem babies born that night. It would be thirty years before he would heal anyone or teach the multitudes about how to live. It would be 33 years before His finished work on the cross would show make a way back to heaven.

Hope and healing had come that night, but that hope would not be realized in that moment. Sometimes hope has to wait. Sometimes healing takes time. But you can rest assured, o weary soul, that your answer comes "swiftly on the wing." 

Take a moment today and rest from your load. Better yet, give the load to Jesus. He said, "Take my yoke upon you, let me teach you, because I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and my burden is light (Matthew 11:29-30)."

The baby came helpless and frail, born to the poorest, and without any applause. But, he's not a baby anymore. He's a loving, powerful, amazing God who has come to bring hope and healing to every part of your aching soul.

So, celebrate today. Make memories. Smile and laugh with the ones who are near. Your brokenness is whole and your heart is healed. Just you wait in joyful anticipation for that miracle baby to make all things new.

Ebola is not a Crisis

Well, not at American one, anyway.

I have been home a little over a week and I am so over the Ebola "issue" here in America that I am just about ready to hop the next plane to Africa. I'm so tired of seeing FB posts that say "shutdown" all flights or those that blame President Obama for the Ebola "crisis" in America. Without going into to many details (because my sister might kill me), Ebola hysteria has affected my sister's family in strange, ignorant, hurtful ways.
So, first, just because my practical nature demands it, I want to arm you with some pesky little facts. After that, I'd like to share with you on a more "spiritual" perspective.

1. Look at this map:

That's where Ebola is and where it is not.

2) And, it case you're still worried, this is how big the continent of Africa actually is:

Yep, it would take the United States, China, Japan, Mongolia, India, all of Eastern Europe, Great Britain, Portugal, Spain, Belgium, Netherlands, France, Germany, Switzerland, and Italy to equal the size of the African continent. 

3) While safely tucked in my corner of the world in Lichinga, I was further away from Ebola than anyone here in the states. If fact, the distance from Mozambique to Liberia is about the distance from you to Spain. Pretty far, eh?

4) I've heard people say that I may have sat with someone on the plane in South Africa who had Ebola. Well, actually, probably not. Anyone from west Africa who is going to the states is going to fly across the Atlantic to the states, not take an 8 hour plane ride south and east to get a connecting flight that will take them the same route they came to still have a 10 hour flight across the ocean. Furthermore, they took my (and everyone else's) temperature at passport control in SA, Germany, and D.C. People with fevers didn't get into the airport. Whats more, if someone on the flight did, by some chance, have Ebola, they weren't yet sick and therefore could contaminate no one.

5) Since the Ebola crisis began, Doctors without Borders has sent more than 700 medical personnel to work in Ebola "hot zones." Of those 700 volunteers, three people (only 1 being American) have contracted the disease. Of course other organizations have sent workers (Samaritan's Purse and SIM), but the percentage is still quite low.

6). The only Americans that have been treated for Ebola have been contaminated by working directly with Ebola patients. No one in the general population has gotten sick.  All of them have recovered. 

I have been surprised and saddened to hear all of these stories about people being forced to take 21 day leaves of absence after visiting non-affected parts of Africa. Instead of education, we have chosen ignorance and hysteria. 

Over 13,000 west Africans have been diagnosed with Ebola. Of those 13,000 almost 5,000 have died. I can't even wrap my head around those numbers and here we sit in our comfort freaking out because one guy, who wasn't showing any symptoms, rode the subway.

I'm do not want to make light of the fact that Americans have gotten sick from this disease, or that this disease is scary. I'm not in any way saying that there shouldn't be precautions in place. Mozambique is not letting anyone in with a fever.  So, I get precautions.

What has totally flabbergasted me is that this is not an American problem. Ebola is a west-African crisis. Because of lack of medical workers, facilities, and adequate care Ebola is spreading like wild-fire. I can't even imagine how awful it will be once the rainy season and the malaria that comes with it settles in. Malaria and Ebola present the same in the beginning. There is going to be so much confusion and fear and death. God help them all.

Look, I'm not saying take your little kids and go expose them to Ebola. I'm not. I am saying that for some of us, there are tangible things that we can do. For others, we can pray. For all of us, we can dig a little deeper and find the compassion and the love of Jesus. We can stop making this crisis about us. Would you just for a moment, imagine little children dying of this disease with no one to hold them? Can you imagine the moms and dads leaving behind little ones? Hospitals with no running water, spotty electricity, and a bring your own food and blankets policy? No bleach. No real way to effectively quarantine anyone. 

Please realize your chance of contracting Ebola (unless you go with Doc w/o Borders to Liberia) is zilch. ZILCH. Instead of seeing yourself, see the dying. Be moved by their suffering. Pray for them. Give to charities that are seeking to stop this outbreak. Jesus was always moved into action. He never once was motivated by his own needs.

 So, please, let His heart for their suffering beat inside of you. It might just change the world.

The God who Sees

As some of you know, the last few days have been a bit stressful for me. On a financial, emotional, spiritual realm I just felt exhausted. I felt exhausted by a certain situation I found myself it. I felt exhausted by the ministry of DTS. As wonderful as it is, DTS really is a 24hr/7 day a week/5 month kind of deal.
A lot has been going on in the last week and I was just teary, and tired, and ready to go find a corner and hide a bit. Those of you who know me well know that I love to be around people, but I also like my alone time. So, I was kind of having my own pity party, dreaming of coming home in a few months, and just allowing myself to be in a funk.
It's funny how when we let the enemy have a hey day in our lives, Jesus steps in and reminds us of what is real and true and important.
Just behind the YWAM center lives Tome & Isabel and their 7 children. This week Tome and Isabel are at the machamba (field) harvesting their corn and beans. Five of their children have stayed here in the city to go to school. The youngest two are with mom - and she has actually been gone for over a month working on the harvest.
Anyhow, on Saturday Arcancas came in and asked me if I had any caril. Caril is basically any sauce that is served with rice or xima (a corn flour based starch dish). I told him I didn't have anything. Since we are eating and cooking as a DTS these days, I don't have tomato (the caril base) or veggies of any kind. He looked sad, but just turned and walked away.
A few hours later, Arminda came and told me that Esperanca had taken food out of one of my dog's bowls to eat. When Arminda asked why, Esperanca said she was hungry.
That afternoon I went over to the house and spoke with Felizarda, the oldest daughter. She confirmed that they didn't have anything to eat. So, I talked with my friend Lori, we pulled our resources together and I went on a little shopping trip.
For about $45, I was able to buy beans, dry fish, potato leaves (a common dish), green beans tomatoes, onions, eggs, pumpkin, bananas, salt, sugar, tea, oil and a few other essentials for this family. This week they will eat well. One of my colleagues has tested the children for anemia, and all though they are now doing better, their levels definitely aren't where they should be. This time before the harvest comes in is known as "the time of hunger."
Hopefully, their crops will be in soon and it will be transported back to they city. Once that happens, they should have food to eat.
For as long as I live, I don't think I'll forget the light in their eyes, or their little arms that hugged me as the quietly said, "Thank you, Tia Jennifer."
I have never been so hungry that I ate out of a dog bowl. I have never had to go and ask a neighbor for money so that I could buy paper that I needed for school. I have never had to wear shoes to school that had holes in them with the soles tied together. I've never known that kind of poverty.
So when I think about that, I don't really want to complain too much about what was stressing me.
I'm so thankful for each of you who support me each month. You are a part of these precious little people having good food this week. Sometimes kingdom work looks a lot like a little person with new shoes and a full belly.  Many times His love is the most practical thing on earth. Thank you for loving the least of these. He sees your faithfulness.

 Mica (13) and Arcancas (16)

 Arminda (yes, Tome has an Arminda, too - 10)

 Felizarda (when she was baptized a few months ago, 17)

 Felipe (3)

 Esperanca (8)

I unfortunately don't have a picture of Dad & Mom or baby Peter. Please continue to pray for them as the harvest comes in. You are a blessing!

A few weeks ago, I was reading in Genesis about Hagar and Ishmael. Remember when she ran away from Sarai, and she thought that she and Ishmael were going to die. Not only did God provide the water that she needed, He told her He saw her struggle with Sarai. I have been reminded so much lately of the God who sees. I'm so thankful that He not only sees, but He provides. What a generous, gracious God that we serve!

Not that Far...

One of my favorite Christmas songs is "Not that Far from Bethlehem" by Point of Grace. (you can listen to the song here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kLMzK-38uqc)

Every time I listen to that song, I get a little teary eyed. In part, it says this:

And though two thousand years have past,
We're not that far from Bethlehem,
where all our hope and joy began.
For when our hearts still cherish Him,
we're not that far from Bethlehem.

I am very thankful for my Christmas experience on this side of the world. Today, there will be no gifts exchanged. No christmas trees, no trimmings, no Christmas movies - nothing that has made my Christmas so normal for all of my American life.

But, there will be dozens of friends and children all pitching in to make a wonderful meal. There will be laughter and love. We will pray together and break bread together and take a moment out of our crazy busy lives to remember that He came.

He came - that scrawny newborn in to abject filth. The Holy Son of God came to a peasant girl, a guy who liked to make things with wood, and some stinky shepherds. He came to the very least because that was the only way we would ever know that He came for us.

Not one of you, who has ever had a child, would choose to bring your child into......that. That stinky place. Those filthy animals. So very far away from home, comfort, family and friends. But God the Father chose to send His son into that. More than that, He chose to send his son into this horribly broken, sinful, sad world. He was God. He'd scraped it all and began again before. Of course, He'd promised He would never do that again, but He could've. He was God. That would have been alright - even understandable. Yet, this time He came and that changed everything.

Today, I will miss my family and friends. I will miss the laughter and all the crazy moments. I will miss how hard my mama tries to make everything perfect - and laughing when at least one thing usually isn't perfect. Without fail, she usually forgets a gift or gives someone the wrong gift (I have had both those things happen - a few years ago I received my brother's boxers :0) But, that is where wonderful memories are made, and I will miss that.

But, I am so thankful for the beautiful simplicity of this Christmas. As many things go on as normal and the market still buzzes with activity, I will be acutely aware that so many still need to know He came. So many lives still need to be changed by His all-consuming grace.

Sometimes, it seems we are so far removed from that tiny, helpless baby in that stinky stable. Christmas has become so glamorized and Santa-ized. It's become an industry. Our world is so sad and so violent, and with every nativity that is taken down it seems that we are so far removed from a world that wants to remember the Baby.

No one is expecting him to come. No one really cares. No one's focus is the baby - instead it is themselves, their desires, their own hopes and dreams.

Yes, I would say our world is not all that different from the one He chose to come into.

And still He chooses. Indeed, we are not that far from Bethlehem.

The Hands and Feet of Jesus

Well, in the continuing saga that is my life, I have severely jacked up my knee in a motorcycle accident! I wish I had some great story like “this car just came out of no where, slammed into me, and sped off!”

Nope.

I ran over some gravel and the bike slipped. Yeah......

There are so many things to wonder like : Why did it have to happen now in the hot season? At the beginning of rainy season? Why did it have to happen at all?

BUT.....on the flip side, there are so many things to be grateful for and to be humbled by.

First of all, on Monday as I was getting dressed, I decided to put on tennis shoes and socks. Being that it’s Africa and hot, I almost never where closed shoes (I know, not the brightest thing ever on a motorbike, but true). However, yesterday I did have on tennis shoes and my feet are just fine. That wouldn’t have been true in a pair of flip-flops.

I wore jeans on the bike yesterday. That protected my legs from getting cuts, bruises, scrapes, etc. And, the scrapes on my arm are only superficial. Seeing as I was wearing short sleeves, that’s a miracle.

The bike landed exhaust up and I landed a couple of feet from the bike. The exhaust on a bike gets pretty hot and I have seen people burned all the way to the bone by the exhaust pipe. I am so grateful for that!

When I crashed my bike, dozens of strangers came running to get me and the bike out of the road. One stranger stopped in his car to take me to the hospital. Another pushed my bike to the police station where it would be safe until I could get it. A missionary friend (and my landlord) was passing by and also stopped. He ended up taking me to the hospital. I couldn’t get into his car with my bum knee, so two ladies lifted me up and put me in the car. When I couldn’t walk into the hospital and no wheelchair could be found, he put my arm around his neck and served as my own personal crutch.

At the hospital, they had to cut my jeans to put the cast on. So, one of my teammates went home and grabbed his wife’s kapalana ( a rectangular piece of cloth used as a skirt) so I didn’t have to flash my underwear to the entire world. On the way back to the hospital, he stopped and bought me some cold water.

The last two nights, a missionary whom I only met two days ago, has been staying with me so that she can help me do whatever needs to be done. Bring me water, help me to the bathroom, make me breakfast, bring me my phone charger.....you name it, she’s done it. They are actually in town to attend a conference this week, so she is taking care of me in addition to attending the conference and taking care of her own family. She brought all kinds of goodies for her family to snack on and each day she shares them with me. Every night their family goes to a local restaurant and when they come home they bring supper for me.

My teammate Lori has had to help me go to the bathroom, take a bath, wash my hair, change clothes......and everything else in between. Each time she comes for a visit she brings me muffins or mangos (which I love!)

My teammate Sandra brought me lunch yesterday on her break from the conference she is attending, helped me to the bathroom, and just gave me some company - which I desperately appreciated.

Yesterday, my teammate Victor spent hours going around town trying to find me shampoo and juice. I kept telling him that whatever kind he found was just fine, but he kept telling me that he was going to look until he found what I wanted. When he brought the stuff in and I said thanks, he just simply shrugged and said, “You need help. We are just down the street. Call anytime day or night. You don’t have to ask. We’ll do it.”

Dinis, my team leader, and his wife Balbina, spent more than three hours going from store to store looking for crutches for me (not something the hospital here has, go figure). When they couldn’t find any, they went to a village pretty far out where they knew they could get some canes. They then brought the canes to me and promised to go out the next day to find crutches.

The first night it was more comfortable to sleep on the couch, so Dinis and Balbina went home (which is a 20 min drive - on their motorbike) and got a mosquito net to hang over my couch. They came to visit yesterday, just to check up on me and promised to be here again tomorrow.

Last night, a missionary from Australia, who happens also to be a physical therapist and whom I had only met once, came to visit with a pair of crutches, some good pain medicine, and a hacksaw! She said that having my knee extended like that was not good and set to work getting the cast off my leg. She’s coming back later this week to check on me. She said she can also help with exercises once I am ready.

I am so humbled by all of this help. Every need I have has been met with cheerfulness. When I say ‘thank you’ my friends simply respond, “People who love you just want to help you.”

The feet of Jesus never looked so much like a few dozen Africans running to my rescue.

The hands of Jesus never looked so much like friends who willing to help me wash my hair, take a bath, fix my meals, fluff my pillows, carry my phone, computer and kindle from room to room, take a hacksaw to that unbearable cast, and so very much more.

The arms of Jesus never felt so much like the constant stream of people dropping in to hug me and just sit and chat for a few minutes.

The face of Jesus never looked so much like Benadi, my guard, who faithfully comes in my house at the beginning and end of his shift everyday just to see how I’m feeling. 

Friends, acquaintances, and perfect strangers have bent over backwards and sacrificed their own time and their own plans to help me with such gentleness and cheerfulness. 

I think sometimes we (okay, at least I) think that the being the hands and feet of Jesus is something huge or miraculous. I think we look for the blind-eyes-see kind of thing.

But, I am here to tell you, that Jesus has been in this home this week. His hands and feet have looked like people from many different tribes in Mozambique. His hands and feet have looked like people from 5 different countries. His voice has had several different accents and has spoken in different languages.

His joy has been evident in arms that hugged me, hands that served me, and feet that went where I could not to get things that I wanted/needed to make me more comfortable.

Don’t ever underestimate how much serving another person shows who Jesus really is. I am humbled and grateful for these beautiful people who have shown me my beautiful Jesus. For him, serving another person was never a big deal, it was what he came to do. When we do that for another person, we have demonstrated the love of Jesus in a more powerful way than anything else ever could.

I have had a lesson in humility this week. I have had a lesson in serving others. I so deeply love these people who have made me feel like it is there privilege to help me. I so deeply love the Jesus who shines so brightly through them.

Government Shutdown

I’ve decided to write about the government shutdown. *insert snide remarks, eye rolling breathing deeply, etc. here*

I’m not going to try to take on the politics of the shutdown. I’m not going to try to blame anyone. That’s just counter productive and not at all what this blog is about.

There are people on both sides of the fence who are so heated about their position that they cannot be civil to their neighbor who doesn’t agree. Articles are popping up on Facebook left and right about the left and right and who’s to blame and who’s got it all figured out. Ugh.

I don’t want to, in any way, suggest that who you vote for is not important. We live in a country where we have been given the freedom to have a voice in our government. That’s an amazing right. I believe God does care about the poor and underprivileged. But, I also believe that He cares about the lives of the unborn. I believe He cares about the sin, of all types, that has become rampant in our society. I believe that He cares that He is being continually pushed out of society while every other type of belief system is being ushered in and praised. I think it matters to Him that the U.S. government has been given the place of Savior in our lives. He’s not going to share His glory with another. Perhaps those of you who are continually disheartened at the state of our government are putting to much faith in that which cannot save you. 

It is important to vote for what you believe in. But, I really don’t think on that day when we see Him face to face the question will be, “Who did you vote for?”

I think it will be, “What did you do to ease the suffering of another?”

So, my friend, what is it? For me easing the suffering of another happens here, in Mozambique. For you maybe it’s adoption or serving in a soup kitchen. Maybe for you military folk, it’s holding the hand of a wife who’s just heard the news her husband won’t be coming home.  Maybe it’s teaching a child to read or cutting the grass of your neighbor who just lost his job. It looks like a thousand different things to a thousand different people. It’s not what you do, it’s that you do it.

This week, as I was watching the news, the government shutdown was just a small story in the world context. Their were other stories about war, famine, nuclear disasters and a lot of other things. I’m fully aware that there are people suffering in the United States and we are called to be God’s hands and feet to them.  But, people are suffering all over the world. One person’s suffering isn’t greater or less than another’s - no matter the form of suffering being experienced. God doesn’t really care about your nationality or theirs. What he cares about is if we are taking His command seriously to “love our neighbor as we love ourselves.”

Governments will rise and governments will fall. There will always be a new leader, president, senator, etc. to be impressed with. But, please, oh, please, my friend, give government’s it’s place. It can’t save you or anyone else. It can’t even make your life better. Your life is made better by the One who came to give you abundant life (John 10:10). 

By all means, vote. But, be the hands and feet of Jesus in practical, everyday-ways. There is coming a day when this government shutdown won’t matter at all. But, it will matter how you loved.

Chin Up

I am trying to be honest about this missionary journey. It's wonderful and I can't imagine doing anything else. Really. I'm the lucky one. On the no electricity, no running water, can-we-please-not-eat-rice-again-today days, I still feel like I am in the center of God's will. I still can't wrap my brain around going back to the US, getting a job, and being "normal." God didn't make me for that. He made me with an Africa shaped hole in my heart and it is filled perfectly here in this place.

However, there are those days when I just feel pulled in one hundred different directions. I just want time to sit, and think, and be. We are in the outreach phase of the DTS and I have moved to the center for the time being. From the time I open my eyes in the morning until I go to bed at night, I have little people clamoring for my attention, holding me touching me, braiding my hair, and playing in my house. I am trying to be mom to a very head strong 12 year old girl. I am working out the details and finances of buying a car in a foreign country. I am trying to work out the details of what exactly I will be doing next year. I am still trying to learn Portuguese fluently and I am beginning to learn to speak the local language. I am trying to be the responsible missionary who responds to each and every email, text message, FB message and all of that. But, there's just one of me and that one of me is feeling tired and overwhelmed at the moment.

I like alone time. I like to sit, think, pray, read and just be. In the last few months I have had hardly any of that. I feel like I'm running on empty and the end isn't in sight. I feel like throwing in the towel, or having a good cry, running away for a few days or something. But, every day, I wake up, take a deep breath and do it all over again. I am reminded about Jerry Falwell's sermon at the beginning of every semester. "Put your hand to the plow and don't look back (Luke 9:62). I don't want to crawl across the finish line, I want to finish well.

But, today, I feel miserable and like I need a serious battery recharge. The thing I am learning is that He is faithful. My Jesus is steady like a rock even when I feel like things are crazy and more than I can handle. He hasn't moved an inch. He's there - urging me - "Just look at me. Stop looking at the wind and the waves. You can trust me. Stop trying to carry it all on your shoulders. They weren't made for this, but mine were."

So, I am fixing my eyes on Jesus. He is the author and finisher of my faith. He is the glory and the one who LIFTS MY HEAD HIGH. So, my fellow sojourner, how can I not say "chin up" when it comes directly from scripture?

Yes, I am still tired and discouraged. Yes, I am still craving my alone time. Knowing He is there and for me is not a magic happy pill.  But, I CAN depend on the strength of my friend. I CAN'T depend on how I feel. Facts vs. Feelings. Hold on to that!

But you, LORD, are a shield around me, my glory, the One who lifts my head high. Psalm 3:3

Little Girl Lost

Okay.....so I promised a blog about baptisms - and I promise it's coming. But, I've got to get the time to load up a few pics too. And, I'm running around like a crazy person at the moment. I've had a team of 7 Chileans staying at my house and this is the first morning I've had my quiet, uninterrupted morning. I LOVE IT!

Anyhow, I saw FB blown-up about the whole Miley Cyrus debacle, and I thought I'd throw my two cents in. Excited, aren't ya?

After my FB page was blown- up about Miley Cyrus posts, I decided to YouTube the video to see what in the world had everyone in such an uproar. My first thought was: That is totally bizarre. What's with the tongue? And the dancing teddy bears? And the foam finger? What is she on?

The questions that followed were something like this:

Who told her that's pretty? Or sexy?
How long will it take her to regret this, to want to take that moment back?
What are her parents feeling tonight?
When Miley is alone tonight, after all the hoopla has died, will she feel successful? Or ashamed? Embarrassed? 
What will Miley feel in ten years about tonight?

Now, when you and I do something stupid, say something stupid - there are maybe a hand full of people around to witness it. Miley's stupid is on display for the entire world to see. It's been videoed and talked, Facebooked about and blogged about. No one will ever forget because it's out there in cyber land FOREVER.

For that, I am truly sorry, sweet girl.

Yes. Sweet Girl. Her performance was totally bizarre (teddy bears from hell, anyone?) and totally inappropriate. It was shocking - even sickening. But it left me wondering what our society did to Miley. We praised her and lifted her up. We made t-shirts, dolls, backpacks and everything else bearing her likeness. Now that she's all grown-up, society says you need to leave that Hannah Montana thing in the dust. And she did.

She's so lost. She's trying - grasping at anything to redefine herself as an adult to keep that fame. All I keep thinking about is one day she's gonna have a daughter and she probably won't feel the same way about that performance when she has to explain why mommy was grabbing herself and throwing herself allover a married man.

Then I got sort of frustrated. I hear, from a lot of people, about how badly women are viewed in Africa. They are someone's property. Women are treated like slaves. Husbands don't value their wives - etc, etc.

Here's the thing: are women in America all that different? What do we have to show for our "freedom?" Lady Gaga, Lindsey Lohan, Amanda Bynes.....Miley Cyrus. Society is continually telling us you have to be thinner, prettier, blonder to get a man. Wear less clothes and more makeup. Stores are fully of the raciest lingerie that our minds can think up. Magazine articles abound about "how to please your man." Every t.v. show and movie is about someone goddess like woman who lives with her boyfriend or sleeps with him before she is married. Those relationships are build on sexual attraction and "being good in bed" instead of what marriage is really all about. I'm not trying to suggest that sex isn't an important part of marriage. I'm trying to say that our society is teaching us that sex is the only part of a relationship - and that's not reality.

So, our enslavement to sexuality.....is it really all that more liberating? Women are still looked at as objects. We talk of open marriages and divorce like it's no big deal. There is no commitment to marriage. If it doesn't work - move on and try again.

So, really. In our attempt to be free we have enslaved ourselves in a very different, maybe more harmful way. Yes, I want men to view their women differently here in Mozambique. I spend a lot of time teaching about that. BUT, I want my culture to view women differently. I want my society to value who Christ made to be as a woman - not the size of my body, the color of my hair, or how sexual I am. I want a society that teaches a little girl that her sexuality is a beautiful thing, but it's only on display for her husband - that the men who want sex before they make a lifetime marriage commitment to her are not worth her time. That's what I want from my society.

Please, if anything, pray for Miley. Don't chew her up and spit her out because she's the product of everything society says she should be. She's still a little girl with a heart and soul and she still has to lay her head on her pillow at night and think......and think. And all that thinking is probably not making her feel very happy. She's grasping at this illusive idea of happiness and she's not gonna find it our there in the world. Weep for her. Weep for a little girl who have us Hannah Montana and then felt like she had to give us - that - to keep our attention.

Fame. I am sure it's costing her more that she wanted to pay.

So Little Girl Lost, I am sorry for what society has done to you. For the choices you have made. I am sorry. Just know there is a way home.

The Art of Discipleship

There are just days when the "where we are" and the "where I want us to be" is a chasm so great that you don't know how to begin, where to begin to cross that divide. In her book "Kisses from Katie," Katie Davis said that she sometimes feels like she is trying to "empty the ocean with a medicine dropper."  I so get that.

Zaida is one of my oldest students. She is 11 years old and she has never been to school. She doesn't know her letters, she can't count, and she barely speaks Portuguese. In her village, they mostly speak their local language, Yao, so she is barely competent in Portuguese. She can't follow more than one instruction at a time. After two months of diligently reviewing her letters and numbers, I really don't see any progress at all. She still can't write her name.

Give the girl a crying baby and that baby will be asleep on her back in a kapalana in no time flat. Ask the girl to sing and she'll have a room full of adults dancing, singing, and praising Jesus with her. There are so many things that she is good at BUT she has no interest in being in school or learning. So, everyday she copies someone else's work.

Every day I sit with her and tell her not to copy someone else's school work. First of all, it is called cheating and cheating is a sin. Sin cost the Son of God his life. God's heart is broken when we sin. Second of all, when we cheat on our school work, we are not learning anything. Learning to read and write is important.

Yet everyday, when I'm not looking, she goes to sit beside someone whom she knows will have the right answers. Today we were working on beginning sounds. At the top of the page there was a letter. Under that letter were three pictures. She needed to color the picture of the object that started with that letter. For example, under the letter "B" was a rat, an egg, and a banana. She was supposed to color the banana.

When she handed in her paper, all her answers were right. However, I knew she didn't know the letters. So, I asked her to tell me each letter. She could not. So, I asked, "Zaida, if you don't know that this is letter 'B' how can you know that banana starts with letter 'B'?" She clammed up and wouldn't speak. Big crocodile tears started falling down her cheeks and then she begin to shout, "I didn't cheat! I didn't cheat!"

"Okay, Zaida. You say you didn't cheat. BUT you got all the answers right yet you don't know any of these letters. How is that possible?" She stopped talking.

Then today when it was time for the Bible Story, I called all the kids to come to class. Some refused to listen to me. So, I told the few that had gathered around me that I would give a sticker to everyone that listened quietly and sat still. Of course, when it was time to hand out stickers, everyone was suddenly ready to come to class. There was great wailing and gnashing of teeth, but I stood my ground and refused to give stickers to those who were not present for the story.

A few minutes later on of the parents tapped me on the shoulder. "Desadelia wants a sticker."

I nodded. "Well, she wasn't in class and only those who were in class and listened quietly received a sticker."

"But she's crying for one."

"I'm sorry. But, if I give her one, I have to give one to everyone. I am trying to teach the children that there are consequences for good and bad behavior."

"But she's crying for one." I just shook my head and tried to explain again why Desa didn't receive and wouldn't receive a sticker. She said something in a language which I do not speak (and it didn't sound like a blessing) and stomped off.

Finally today, Cecilia refused to come to class. She is five years old and this scene is repeated EVERY.SINGLE.DAY. When we are playing, she is happy as a lark. When it's time to go to class, she pitches a fit and refuses to go to class. Her mom comes and gets her and doesn't make her obey. I have tried explaining to this mom that Cecelia is old enough to learn and needs to be in class. I have tried to explain that Cecelia is being manipulative and just wants to get her way. I have explained how important it is for Cecilia to learn to obey and to learn that there are consequences for disobedience. Yet, every day this scene is repeated and every day Cecelia's mom comes to get her.

I know these seem like simple fixes. But for two months we have been working on these simple behaviors and still they are not improved. I don't mean to imply that there have been no improvements. The kids can stand in a line. They couldn't do that two months ago. They sit patiently and wait to be handed their school work, pencils, and crayons. They were like little vultures two months ago. They don't hit and push nearly as often. They ask for things instead of just taking them most of the time. These behaviors which seem so normal to us are things we had to fight and pray for. So, in some ways, I am so happy and so blessed to see how far my little people have come.

But, I'm left with so many questions about discipleship. How do you break the habit of cheating? How do you explain how important it is to a parent to let their child experience the painful consequences of poor choices? How do you stress the importance of a little girl going to school, when the parent didn't go to school herself? How do you change someone who doesn't want to be changed? How do you help someone understand that God doesn't except all the things that your culture excepts and that we have to obey God - not our culture?

You see, these parents, they are the first generation of Mozambicans to have the gospel. Before that, it was Communism and war. Their understanding is so small. We are trying to disciple them while we are teaching them to disciple their kids. It feels almost impossible.

You can't blame them. No one made them go to school. No one let them experience good or bad consequences. If you cried loud enough, you got what you wanted. Now that they are parents, these white people are coming in and telling them that all these things are important - yet they grew up without them and they don't see the value in them.

These people LOVE their kids. They would die for their kids. It isn't that at all. It's trying to teach them God's principles for life - which are new to them - and then trying to get them to implement them with their own kids before they've even seen the value in their own lives.

On days like today, I realize that I can enforce consequences in school, but in a few months they will go home and probably no one will do that for them. So, I diligently teach them things which seem so normal to me, and I pray that little seeds will be planted in their lives. I thank God for the progress we've had and I ask Him for even more.

It's not easy to teach people to value new concepts. I feel blessed to do what I do. Everyday when I arrive at school and 30 little people come running with their arms wide open shouting "Tia Jennifer is here!" My heart just melts right there inside my chest. These kids have learned to be held, and hugged, and kissed. That's a huge thing!

I ask the Lord to teach me to be more content. I know that when He looks at me, He must feel the same way. I look at how far I've come, but He must look at where I should be. Yet, there is nothing but grace and patience as I continue to try to get this thing of loving Jesus right.

So pray with me. Pray that I will see our progress. Pray that I will know how to better disciple these precious little people. Pray that I will have more patience and more grace. I need to remember that discipleship (in my life and the lives of others) is a marathon - not a 100 yard dash.