A Sacrifice of Thankfulness

We're six months in and things really aren't better yet.  I haven't written much on here because I don't have much new to say.  It still hurts.  It still is hard.  In fact, I would go so far as to say that in some respects it's even harder than 6 months ago simply because nothing has changed like I hoped that it would and I'm being forced to settle in for the long haul.  My new life still feels impossible.  And tears still fall most days.

Today is a day of thanksgiving.  I have so many memories of thanksgivings past that are full of joy and happiness, fellowship and family, love and tender closeness to my dearest ones.  The enemy has shown me, again and again, today how much I have lost.  He has repeatedly whispered in my ear how justified I would be to not participate in this holiday.  And I surely have seen how much my heart wants to say a big huge, "no thank you" to what God's sovereignty has brought.

Sacrifices are painful.  They are costly.  Life would be so much easier without them.   Perhaps the Israelite bringing his best lamb might have wondered some years, is this really necessary?  Does it really help?

Isn't it a wonder that after mentioning pain and loss, the Psalmist puts on a face of determination and says, "I will offer to you the sacrifice of thanksgiving and call on the name of the Lord." (Psalm 116:17)  Here is the truth that was shining at me today: sometimes life hurts so much that thanksgiving becomes a sacrifice and we have to choose to make it.  It can be painful to wake up in the midst of sorrow and say thank you.  It would be much easier to not.  One might wonder as the holiday marks a painful year like this one: is this really necessary? Does it really help?

Thanksgiving has a way of forcing our eyes to see Jesus.  Like the prayer of St. Patrick who cries, "Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ on my right, Christ on my left, Christ when I lie down, Christ when I arise..." Thanksgiving forces us to look above, beneath, on our right, on our left, throughout the day and see Christ working on our behalf.  This thanksgiving sacrifice works for our good as it draws our eyes out of our pit and back to our Savior who is working all around us for our good.  Surely this kind of calling out to the Lord will open our hearts to an eternal joy even when there is very little earthly happiness. So yes, it is necessary and it does help.

So by God's grace, we made our green bean casserole, drank our Uganda coffee, carved our turkey, fashioned our pies, sang our hymns and went around the circle giving thanks like we always have.  And you know what?  My heart was soothed a bit.  God's grace has once again brought me to the end of what could have been a very hard day and I can see that he hemmed me in and held me tightly through it.  Thank you, Lord.  You truly are a gracious God.

Firm in the Faith

This morning in church we sang the classic hymn "Nothing but the Blood of Jesus."

I haven't had much emotional energy to grieve leaving Uganda still.  But this morning my heart hurt with homesickness.  There is nothing like the voices of 300 plus children in Kikamba belting out the words to this great hymn.  They didn't always know all the words to the first half of the lines, but they would loudly echo "nothing but the blood of Jesus!" with a bold confidence that Americans...as we say in the south: bless their hearts...just can't do.  Oh, how I miss those little ones and their Sunday morning singing!

My pain was soothed slightly by the truth of the last verse:

Now by this, I'll overcome, nothing but the blood of Jesus.
Now by this, I'll reach my home, nothing but the blood of Jesus.

That's just it, isn't it?  How does one overcome such homesickness when you're living in a place that is supposed to be home, but it's not, and you're missing a country that was home despite the fact that it wasn't your own home culture?  Only through resting in all the promises of what Christ has given us through his blood poured out on the cross.

How do you walk through unspeakable pain?  Only through the promises of Christ.
How do you find feet to walk again in a new place and a new life?  Only through the promises of Christ.
How do you survive hurt and betrayal? Only through the promises of Christ.

We've been reading Isaiah at the dinner table.  The great warning of chapter 7 verse 9 pierced my heart as we read, "If you are not firm in faith, you will not be firm at all."

There is so much that is shifting sand these days.  My life is not settled.  I have no idea what this next year will look like.  I don't know if God will choose to bring happier days or more trials yet.  Anxiety tries so hard to be a constant companion of mine. 

Life has fallen apart to such an extent that I have been forced to learn that there is only one sure thing: Jesus died for me.  It's a small, four-word statement, with a larger-than-life reality.

 This one thing that remains makes me God's precious, beloved child and so it opens the door to all of God's promises for his children. Promises like in Psalm 71 where the psalmist tells me that God will revive me again, he will bring me up again and he will comfort me again.  Or Psalm 27, where the Psalmist says that we will look upon the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.

People have told me that I've been so strong in this trial. But I so much want everyone to know that it's not me that's been strong.  I feel the very opposite of that. I feel crushed, hurt and am often a hot mess of tears.  Any strength that might be seen is simply the strength of God that has kept my faith firm.  It is God who has made me know and remain sure that Christ died for me.  And through that, he has opened so many doors of hope: a hope that the sun will shine again one day, a hope that God will show me his goodness, a hope that God will use this pain for my good,

a hope that will overcome, a hope that will lead me home... not to Milledgeville or Uganda, but one day to my real home, where there will be no more tears and heartache.

Soothing Streams

Is it even possible to cry so many tears? Is it possible to not have enough tears to cry to match the pain?  Sometimes at night, I ask myself these questions.

I think of the Abrahams in this world that have wandered in desert wastelands, the Josephs that have sat in the dark prisons and in the shadows of death because fellow human flesh treated them so unfairly, the Miriams who suffered affliction because of their own foolishness, the Jonah's of the world who have nearly drowned in angry oceans.  So many people through history share a common thread of hurt. Many have surely known the rush of hot tears.  They have known intimately what it is like for their hearts to feel so broken, so helpless.  I surely should not be surprised by my need for so many tears.

The Psalmist in 107 has seen these people.  Through the Holy Spirit, he sees my heart too.  He knows the wanderers, the thirsty, those in darkness, those who see death come close, those who suffer because of their own foolishness, those that suffer from the ravages of a fallen creation.

And the Psalmist gives us hope.

He shows Love in perfect form.  Redeeming grace.  One who satisfies.  A Deliverer.  A mighty arm that shatters the impenetrable iron gates of sin-born prisons.  One who speaks words of healing.  One who commands fierce storms that would swallow our entire being, if they weren't actually storms of grace.

In short, he has the power to turn rivers into deserts and watery springs into thirsty ground.  And so for his enemies? They will thirst and be forsaken.

But for his children?  For me, his daughter? 

Unyielding love.

His power works for us.  That same power brings pure cool water to my desert.  Springs growing in my parched land.  Every time I feel the heat of my broken life, he soothes my aching heart.  Sometimes it's a text of Scripture, sometimes the love of my children, sometimes a text from a friend, mostly I think it's the prayers of multitudes of saints on my behalf.  On those days I haven't been able to walk, you've gently carried my stretcher, earnestly pulled the roof tiles away, and graciously lowered me to the feet of Jesus.

The Psalm ends by saying the upright see it and are glad...and if they are wise, they will also consider that this love is for them.

For you.

God's people are never beyond his love-filled grasp.

God's Rescue Missions

Sometimes God rescues us when we didn't even know we needed rescuing.

There was a baby girl who was pushed into this world by a mother, who at sixteen, wasn't much more than a girl herself.  She was trying to make it on her own and didn't have too many options in life, so she kept that baby girl in a hotel room at night.  By day, she passed the baby girl around the truckers' arms, as she dished up their food at a truck stop across the street.  Without anyone teaching her to be a tender mom, she couldn't handle it when the baby girl cried, so she punished the tears with cigarette burns and spankings that were never meant for six-week-old baby soft skin.  And after trying hard to make it work, one night the words flew, the yelling got loud enough and the police were called.  God swooped in that night and rescued that baby girl, long before she knew she needed rescuing. 

But rescuing doesn't always feel good.  There is ripping and pulling that hurts.  The Great Gardener will rescue a little seedling by pulling it out of the plug tray and transplanting it to a pot, but as he pulls it the roots will rip and tear, the plant might even wither slightly; it sounds like death is coming at the hands of the Gardener.  But really, he is rescuing that plant.  He is putting it where it can grow, bloom, produce seedlings of its own and bring glory to the Gardener. 

Fast forward many years and that baby girl grew up.  She got married, had a truckload of kids and headed off to the mission field.  Life was humming along as she dished out plates of food, taught her kids school, and wrapped up skinned knees and wounded hearts.  And God looked down again and saw that his little girl was being hurt again in ways that were never meant for one of his children to endure.  She didn't know it.  But he rescued her again. Before she even knew that she needed rescuing, he swooped in and pulled her out.

The ripping hurts.
The pulling hurts.
There are days that she feels withered.
There are days that she feels like she just might die.

But she is in the hands of the Great Gardener.
He is putting her in a new place where she can grow, mature, and bring glory to the Gardener.

Oh God, thank you that your great rescue missions weren't only when I came to Christ... when you rescued me from my sin (though I surely thank you for that, as it was the greatest of all my rescues), but that you also rescue your people from pain and suffering even on this earth.  You truly are worthy of praise.  In all of the ripping, pulling, and withering, may my life bring you glory.  Even though I don't know my future, I know you.  Your character.  Your faithfulness.  Your love.  You truly are The Great Gardener.  Your hands are a soft place to rest my fragile heart.

Into the Wilderness

The wilderness...an area that most humans don't choose to go to.  It's wild.  It's uncomfortable.  Pain and suffering are far too well known there.  Dry.  Empty. Threatening.

And yet God has chosen to have me walk there.

Why?  Because some things can only be learned in the wilderness.  

It is only in the wilderness, when I am completely parched and have no other hope, that I learn how deeply Christ can quench my thirst  Before the wilderness, a carbonated, sugary soda felt good on a hot day.  A chat with a friend, a nice quote on facebook, a hug from my husband.  Now, I'm desperately thirsty and Christ's fountains are full of living water that is beautiful, deep, clear and life-giving.  Nothing else will do.  It's a matter of life and death every morning when I wake up.  God's word. Study. Pray. Memorize. Read. Pray more. Meditate. Life or death. It must get deep into my heart. There is no other way to live through this moment, let alone this day. The fountain of Christ, full of living water, is the only hope I have.

It is only in the wilderness when I see my weakness and utter incapability to survive, that I learn of his strength and his willingness to carry me.  I cannot walk this road alone and in my own strength.  The pain is too deep.  The temptation to bitterness is too strong.  When the waves of sorrow overwhelm me, I cry again to my older brother, "Save me!  Rescue me from this pain, lest it drown me."  And time after time after time, I feel his strong arms grab my heart and pull me to safety. 

It is only in the wilderness that I can eat his heavenly food and I finally learn that I can be satisfied with manna.  The meat and cucumbers of Egypt have had such a strong grip on me.  Before the wilderness, the fine cuisine of my previous life drove my attitudes and actions.  It determined my level of happiness for the day.  Now my unhelpful cravings are dying down and are no longer having dominion over me.  I see God's faithful provision every day, one day at a time.  I see his care for me. I put the manna to my lips and I taste the steadfast love of God.

It is only in the wilderness that my faith stops depending on God answering all my prayers as I think he should and instead I start to lean on the character of God, his power, his sovereignty, his love.  One of the spiritual jolts that I experienced as I entered the wilderness, was seeing how many prayers for my family were not answered the way I wanted them.  I had been praying so faithfully and fervently for the one that I loved so deeply.  My faith wobbled as I poured tears over my prayer journal.  But in the wilderness, I have learned to look to the character of God, who he is, how he is working all things for my good, how he is still on the throne of the universe, he is still in control and he still loves me.  He is a faithful God.  When all around my soul gives way, He then is all my hope and stay.

The wilderness is still hot, hard and not a place I would have wanted to go.  But I'm learning that under the rocks, there is life.  In the hidden crevices, there is beauty.  In the wasteland, there is strength.

And if walking into the wilderness means that I find more of Christ, then God, give me the grace to run.

Seven Years and Now this Call

Today marks 7 years since we first moved to Uganda.  Our "Ugandaversary" has always been a point of celebration, even if only in my heart, simply because every year marked God's faithfulness to us in what was sometimes a difficult post that the Lord had called us to. 

This past Sunday in church we sang the Kristin Getty song "What Grace is Mine?"  The chorus sings,

"So I will go where ever He is calling me.  
I lose my life to find my life in Him  
I give my all to gain the hope that never dies; 
I bow my heart, take up my cross and follow Him." 

Seven years ago, I would have sung this with gusto.  The missional thought of going where ever He called me, stirred in me a sense of purpose and joy as Eric and I boarded the plane with 8 small children in tow.  I was willing to lose my life, to give my all and to take up my cross as I served him in Uganda.

Last Sunday I sat in church in America, with 9 growing children in tow and our home in Uganda so very far away.  Our dream of serving Christ there for many years to come has died a painful, horrible death and the tears flow every day still.  The first time we sang the chorus through, this glorious missional song felt like sandpaper on the open wounds of my heart.

Then the Holy Spirit, the Great Helper, began to prod...

"Am I not the one that has sent you to this new place?"
     "But God, we don't want to be here and not like this!"

"But will you still go where ever I call you? Just like you did 7 years ago?"
     "But God, Uganda seemed to have a purpose, but here all I see is how we failed."

"Will you lose your life in this place because you want to find it in me?"
     "Lord, I was willing to give up so many comforts in Uganda...water, power, safety... but I don't want to lose my life in this way and in this place, it's too much Lord!"

"Are you willing to take up your cross and follow me?"
     "In this place and way, Lord? I don't see anything beautiful about it."
   

But deeper still The Great Helper searched me and tried me, "Well, actually God, if it is you that is doing the calling, then I am willing...a thousand times my answer will be yes...if only you will give me more of yourself.  If you really will fill me with more of you, I'll follow you here.  If I really will find myself in You, I'll lose my life in this painful way.  Lord, I went to Uganda in obedience to your call.  I will now come back from Uganda in obedience to your call.  If you want me here, then in truth, I don't want to be anywhere else.  Lord, it is a big, heavy, rough, burdensome cross that I never in million years wanted to carry.  I don't like how it feels. I wish it would be taken away.  But I'll do it for you."

"God, I believe.  But please, Lord, I beg you... help my unbelief."

Jesus Wept

This morning was rough.  As we sat at breakfast, silent except for tears, all of us were feeling the pain of the recent weeks.  The initial turmoil....the revelation of Satan's work, the unexpected packing, the rushed goodbyes, the 24 hours of travel, jet lag, the chaos upon landing, the joy and heartache of grandparents, aunties, uncles, and cousins visiting....has all ended.  Now we are in America.  Eric and I are legally separated.  And life just hurts.

This morning was communion at church.  At breakfast, I reminded the kids that as real as it is that we can taste and see the bread and juice, that's how real it is that Christ died for us on the cross.  And because we know that Christ died for us and we can trust him for our salvation, we know that we can also trust our future to Christ.  But this takes eyes of faith to see because we certainly don't "feel" it right now.

As I held the bread in my hand, I began to pray so earnestly that God would meet us in our pain.  Then Benaiah, who also held his bread while bent in prayer, leaned over and asked, "mama, did Jesus cry?"  The only answer I could give was a fervent yes with a hug, as my own tears spilled over.

Jesus wept.  He saw the damage, death, and decay that came with sin and he sobbed for it.  He knows our pain.  He knows betrayal.  He knows who the enemy is.  And he wept.

Christ gave us hope through the cross and the sacrament of communion drives that hope deep into our hearts.  As we sat together for lunch, somehow a wave of joy had peeked through again...a reflection of the grace of God to meet us in our pain this morning and fill our hearts with a peace that truly passes understanding.

A Long Week

Whew...what a time we've had lately.  Malaria season has kicked in...with the rains returning the mosquitos are also returning.  William and Benaiah had malaria first, then Katelyn came down with typhoid, then Talitha came down with malaria and some sort of bacterial thing going on, then Benaiah got malaria again, and Rebecca followed that with a tummy bug.  In the middle of all that, I ended up with a blocked kidney (but seemingly not from a stone) that left me in excruciating pain (way worse than childbirth) on Sunday and I spent the day in the hospital getting an Ultrasound and ultimately a CT scan.  On Monday, Talitha spiraled down further and we ended up in the clinic with her for IV antibiotics, antimalarials, and fluid.  Now Eric is playing catch up with the rest of us by coming down with malaria too.  In these seasons, we sure take comfort in God's mercy and compassion and also the prayers of very many saints.  I was listening to Paul Tripp's recent talk at the Gospel Coalition Conference on suffering.  His final point was that suffering happens in community as brothers and sisters in Christ pray for and support one another.  We really felt that last weekend as we walked through some difficult moments, but knew people around the world were praying for us.  

Towards the end of the week, the smiles finally came back out.  Praise God!

And the kids got a turtle as a gift. 

Today, I was able to run in a 5K for CURE hospital.  We have been very thankful for CURE hospital.  They specialize in pediatric brain surgeries...hydrocephalus, spina bifida, and brain tumors.  But they also have helped us out on more than one occasion with stitches, asthma attacks and this past weekend with my CT Scan.  (The radiographer even came back in after-hours from over an hour away to do the scan).  I was so thankful to be able to run today and support a great cause while I was at it.  And running in races here is just an overall great experience...late start times, dance party warm-ups, and dodging bodas and traffic... so much fun! I couldn't convince my family to join me this year, but it was a fun time to catch up with friends.

Doctrine Class and Two Book Recommendations

::This past week Eric began teaching a Christian Doctrine class.  They are using Louis Berkhof's Summary of Christian Doctrine book.  Eric is really enjoying this class and it seems like the students are as well.  Please continue to pray for these students as they learn.

:: Recently, I have enjoyed two books that are worth a mention here.

The first was sent to us in the mail and unfortunately, my littles, in their eagerness to receive a package, threw out the wrapping before I figured out who sent it to us.  If that's you and you are reading this THANK YOU!!!

This book, Living Life Backwards by David Gibson, is a great explanation of the book of Ecclesiastes.  The first few chapters are quite depressing as they are a good kick in the pants. But just when you are ready to throw the book down, Gibson lifts you back up and pushes you forward as you learn what it means to live your life in light of the end of your life.  It is well worth reading.  Also, I think this would be a great book for a youth group study as well.

The second book is The Common Rule by Justin Whitmel Earley.  This is a fabulous defense (you can tell he is a lawyer...haha!) of cultivating 8 habits into your life. First, Four Daily Habits... kneeling prayer 3 times a day, Scripture before phone, eating a meal together, and turning the phone off for an hour a day... then Four Weekly Habits...intentional conversation for one hour, sabbath rest, fasting, and curating media to a set amount of hours.  Lest you think this is another book on technology to make you feel guilty for hanging out on your phone again, please be assured it is not.  Whether you chose to use his ideas of habits or not, this book will change how you view your habits.  His arguments/logic/lines of reasoning are insightful and inspiring (not a guilt trip!) no matter what you end up putting into practice in the end.  I love how he brings in our love for God and love for neighbors and puts everything into an eternal perspective. So even if you have no desire to change how you do your media/technology/time, I still say read this book!!

One Year RAversary

One year ago today, I woke up with a fever and almost every joint in my body hurting.  I had no idea that a year later I would still be waking up every morning with joint pain and stiffness.  Sudden Onset Seronegative Rheumatoid Arthritis....when your own immune system plays traitor and begins to attack your own body instead of foreign invaders.  It predominantly attacks the joints, but can also attack major organs like the heart, lungs or kidneys.  The fatigue, fevers, swelling, pain, depression, and anxiety have become constant companions of mine...some days aren't so bad...other days, they take almost everything from me.  And the frustration is that there seems to be very little rhyme or reason to it.   I'll be fine for part of a day and then suddenly I'm feverish.  Or one day the pain will predominantly be in my toes, the next in my knee and then my jaw.  Many mornings I wake up wondering "what part of me will hurt today?"  One day I'll be great all day and the next I'll be in bed most of the day.  It's so random!  The medicines (meant to weaken the immune system so that it stops fighting so hard) for it have definitely helped, but I'm nowhere near being in remission.

I recently read a short biography on Charles Spurgeon by John Piper (A Camaraderie of Confidence in his series "The Swans are Not Silent")  I learned that Spurgeon also had RA and Gout...and died from it at the age of 57.  One-third of the last 22 years of his ministry were spent out of the pulpit due to flares or rest or trying to take precautions to prevent his rheumatism from flaring.  I found it encouraging to see that God allowed him to continue his ministry even if it meant cutting back and resting a little more. (Mind you, his "walking pace" of ministry was probably more of a "sprinting pace" for the rest of us! haha!)  I also resonated with his view that RA has a marvelous mellowing effect on a person.  He writes, "I dare say the greatest earthly blessing that God can give to any of us is health, with the exception of sickness...If some men that I know could only be favored with a month of rheumatism, it would, by God's grace mellow them marvelously." 

But even more encouraging was his view that his affliction was designed by a loving God.  He writes, "It would be a very sharp and trying experience to me to think that I have an affliction which God never sent me, that the bitter cup was never filled by his hand, that my trials were never measured out by him, nor sent to me by his arrangement of their weight and quantity."  John Piper comments, "For Spurgeon, this view of God was not an argument for debate; it was a means of survival."  It's true.  How can one even begin to accept affliction if our affliction was sent to us by anyone but God himself and sent to us for our own good?

Spurgeon also saw the blessing of his suffering from RA and Gout.  He said, "I am afraid that all the grace that I have got of my comfortable and easy times and happy hours, might almost lie on a penny.  But the good that I have received from my sorrows, and pains, and griefs, is altogether incalculable...Affliction is the best bit of furniture in my house.  It is the best book in a minister's library." 

Did you know that 13-42% of RA patients struggle with varying degrees of depression? Spurgeon was no exception.  But he saw three ways that God used his depression.  First, it kept him humble.  Second, it gave unexpected power to his ministry as he "heard his own chains clank while he tried to preach to his fellow prisoners in the dark."  And third, he often saw that the depression came just before a large blessing in his ministry... like a black cloud before it breaks into a rainstorm.  His depression became a sort of prophet to him that God was on the verge of doing great things. 

So many blessings can come through RA and sickness in general.  And I'm thankful that over the last year I have experienced much of that blessing also.  It's not a road I would have chosen, but my loving Father chose it for me.  I've been grateful for it's mellowing effect and how it has pushed me to more prayer and more dependence on Him.  I know that I'll praise him for all of eternity for how he has used it in my life for my good and his glory. 

And the Heaviness Lifts...

Every Friday I lead a Bible study at church for the ladies/girls of our church.  It is something I love to do.  Yesterday we discussed Philippians 4:6-7, "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.  And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

It is not easy to be a woman living in Kikamba (the slum where our church is located).  Violence, divorce, hunger, sickness, drunkenness sweep through, threatening every corner.  Women are often faced with a choice of selling their bodies so they can feed their family or standing alone and watching their children try to fall asleep hungry.  Many of the women are illiterate.  Many face violence in the home.  Many watch fevers rage in their children and there is very little they can do about it.  Just yesterday, when it was time to take prayer requests, we prayed for a family who almost had their 3 year old kidnapped out of their home at 2am, a family where thieves came in and used a panga to injure their cow (a financial investment and source of livelihood) to the point that the cow died, for a grandmother who is grieving because her grandsons were arrested for raping someone, two different wives who were attacked by their husbands and nearly killed, another mother whose son was severely burned and he needs treatment, two mothers who have children in prison, two mothers who have other children that refuse to obediently stay at home and many who struggle with chronic sickness and troubles.  Most of the wayward children mentioned above do not have fathers in their lives.  One of the women who is suffering from violence in the home has a family that won't help her at all because she is the only Christian and her family is Muslim.  It's not easy to be a woman in Kikamba.

When the women arrived yesterday, they looked heavy with care.  They looked tired to me.  I actually wondered how Bible study would even go.  Are they too tired to listen today?  How will God's word speak to them today?  Every word that comes out of my mouth must be translated.  The frustration of the tower of Babel continues again today in this little corner of the world.

We started to talk about God's word.  What can we be thankful for in the midst of all our anxieties?  Then something happened that rarely happens in our Bible study...almost every lady wanted a chance to speak about something she was thankful for.  Hand after hand raised up asking for a turn, mouth after mouth speaking words of praise.  There it is: the Holy Spirit on the move, producing thankfulness instead of anxiety.  Peace instead of worry.  Peace that is deep and beyond understanding.  Peace you wouldn't expect to find in a group of women from Kikamba.  Peace that is found where ever Christ is found.  These women have troubles almost beyond what I can even begin to wrap my mind around.  But they also have Christ.

Their faces changed in that moment.  I literally saw the softening, the renewing of strength, the flood of joy.  The heaviness lifted and the Spirit rushed in.

"God gave me food this week."

"My neighbors stopped fighting me"

"God healed me so that I could get out of the hospital"

"I have school fees for next term."

"God brought missionaries to Uganda"

"We have a church we can go to that teaches us about God."

"Christ died on the cross for me."

We all clapped and laughed together afterward.  What a friend we have in Jesus!  All our sins and griefs to bear.  What a privilege to carry, everything to God in prayer.

New Year- New Word

Last year I tried something new--I chose one word to have as a theme for the year.  The word was JOY.  It was a blessing to me to be able to come back to that as a theme during our time on furlough (when joy came quite easily), during our time of transition back (when joy was a little more difficult to find as our emotions were yanked across oceans) and during my many days of sickness (when it was just a downright fight for joy).  God gave me two major endcaps to the year 2017.  The first was a ladies retreat last January in Colorado that I spoke at.  The topic was joy and it was a huge blessing to begin to dive into studying it deeply.  The second endcap was our team retreat this past December, where we studied Job, what it means to worship in our suffering (including having joy!).  It was here that God baked and hardened the lessons that he had been teaching me all year.

As I've been prayerfully thinking about a new theme for this year, the word ABIDE has been coming to mind from John 15:

4 Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. 5 I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. 6 If anyone does not abide in me he is thrown away like a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. 7 If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. 8 By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples. 9 As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love. 10 If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his love. 11 These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.

There is no greater gift I can give my husband, children, and ministry this year than the gift of a wife, mom, and missionary that abides in Christ.  I want to be a doer of the word (not just a hearer), but before I can be a doer, I must be soaked, saturated and abiding with Christ...in his word and in prayer.  And what beautiful promises to those that abide: answered prayers, fruit, seeing God's love, joy!  I'm looking forward to learning more about abiding in Christ this year.

What about you?  Did you make any New Years resolutions?  Do you have a word that you have chosen to focus on this year?

December Photo Project: Day 9

Sermon night: post-dinner/ post-sermon discussion.  Are we living for the pleasures of this world or the world to come? 

A Poem by Katelyn

Katelyn wrote this poem today for school.  It is a reflection on the testimony of Augustine.  I found it to be beautiful and she graciously gave me permission to put it on here.

Let me be Salt, Let me be Light, 

Let me be Someone that Satan Would Dread

Oh Lord!  How often I have gone astray

Searching for a remedy, 

I loved worldly pleasures, lust, and play,

And sat down with the enemy.

Then, searching for the direction,

To lead my self-filled soul,

I led myself into imperfection,

And cowered in death's dark hole.

I directed myself down many-a route,

Tried many beliefs, tried every sin

But they did not please, it left me in doubt,

Knowing that I by myself could not win.

But I could not find truth

I could not find light

It seemed sin were a sleuth

And day turned to night.

'Twas simple guilt, 'twas sinful charms,

'Twas my wicked heart trying to harden,

But I put it aside and ran into thine arms,

Begged your forgiveness, and pleaded for pardon.

Now the life of a Christian has already begun,

The race to the finish and the hard sprint ahead,

The Fruit to grow, and the sin to shun,

So, let me be salt, let me be light, let me be someone Satan would dread.

Bullet Post Update

::With 32 days left before we leave to go back to Uganda, we are beginning to ramp up preparations.  We can take 22 suitcases with us...full of clothes, school books, and a variety of things that are either difficult to find in country or very very expensive in country.  The kids are, for the most part, excited to go home.  For some of them, they are probably tempted to count minutes till we leave.  For some of them, they are still cherishing every minute left with cousins.

::I appreciate everyone's prayers for my health.  The doctors at Duke settled on a diagnosis of Primary Adrenal Insufficiency (AI) because of a form of non-classical congenital adrenal hyperplasia. (CAH)  I was likely born missing a partial enzyme that helps the adrenal glands produce the cortisol they are supposed to.  AI is a fairly rare disease and non classical CAH is a rare form of AI.  Many doctors haven't even heard of it...sometimes it's even featured on TV series that deal with rare diseases.  Often times people are surprised to hear that there is a group of people walking this planet that need daily steroids to stay alive.  AI is also a bit of difficult beast to work with, because your body doesn't produce the exact same amount of cortisol every day.  So I can't just take one pill every day and call it good.  If you are under job stress, a super busy day, have a difficult conversation, get in a car accident, or have surgery your body requires differing levels of cortisol for differing levels of stress.  Most stress is unpredictable...we know not what a day will bring...so more often than not, AI patients who loose the "fight or flight" hormone will have a few more sick days (for me that means lots of pain, fevers, stomach aches, nausea, racing heart, horrid brain fog, and lack of sleep) as we work in retrospect to gain back (cortisol) what God originally intended the body to do in tandem with life.  I carry a shot kit of steroid in case I were to ever find myself in a situation of sudden severe stress since patients with AI can easily and quickly go into shock. That is called an Adrenal Crisis and it can quickly lead to death if not stopped by a heavy dose of steroid. The positive news though is that most patients with CAH (me included) don't loose their ability to produce another hormone called aldosterone.  This offers me a level of protection (though not complete protection) from an adrenal crisis and I'm very thankful for that! (That's been the great news of the past couple weeks!)

I've known for quite a few years that this is my reality.  But it never fully set in until the doctor told me that it would likely be like this for the rest of my life.  Somehow I had always held out hope that if my life were to calm down enough (like maybe after Eric retires and the kids fly the nest? ha!) that I would someday be able to come off the steroids.  Well, that doesn't seem to be the case.  Seems like this is my "thorn" that God has given me to carry for his glory.  I do wonder sometimes at the idea that my life calling (homeschooling nine kids on the mission field?) doesn't seem to match with my diagnosis (take meds and do what you can to avoid stress. hmmm...)  I was convicted the other day though, that while I might not be able to do as much in life as I want, what I am able to do, I want to do well for the glory of God.  If I am able to do another activity with the kids or in the ministry, I want to do it for the glory of God.  If I am only able to sit on the couch for the day, well...that too should be done to the best of my ability for the glory of God.  Andree Seu says something like, "If the king asks you to conquer the hinter lands one day and shoe his horse the next, you do them both without slacking...for he is the king."  This is the cross that the King of Glory has called me to bear, so may I do it without slacking for his glory.

::We have several (about 10 plus) more churches to speak at through Michigan and Ontario, one more flight out to Oregon for our previous church's 25th anniversary, then a week of visitors, and then a week to pack.  Pray that we will find some rest, some time to pack, and a few more precious memories in it all.

Awake or Asleep?

In Mark 4:35-41 we read the story of Jesus calming the storm on the sea.  He had been sleeping in the stern of the boat after a full day of ministry and preaching.  His disciples came and basically said, "How on earth can you still be asleep? We are about to die!"  So, he woke up, rebuked the wind and then he rebuked his disciples.  They had little faith, but Jesus' work left them in great fear.

Fast forward a couple of years to Mark 14:32-42.  This time they are in the garden and death was once again at the door.  Jesus was in a spiritual battle and his disciples?  This time it was they that slept.  He came to them three times and begged them to stay awake..."How can you be asleep, disciples... I am about to die!  Watch and pray with me!"  Again they had little faith, but this time it would be Jesus' betrayer that would leave them in great fear.

Isn't this just like Satan, that great deceiver, to confuse us?  We sleep when we should be awake, and we are awake when we should be asleep!  He puts us on alert concerning the kingdom of this world and lulls us to sleep in all things concerning the kingdom of heaven.  We can be so hot when it comes to earthly pleasures, and chillingly cold in our pursuit of heavenly rewards.

Let us pray that the Holy Spirit would so fill us that we see this deception for what it is.  Let us watch, pray and stay awake today for the right things! And when it is time to sleep tonight, let's sleep in peace and let our worries go.  We will never add even one day to our lives by staying awake to fix things.  So often our spirit truly is willing, and our flesh really is so weak.  But God remembers that we are dust.  He knows that about us.  He sends the Holy Spirit to help us in our weakness.  Isn't he a kind Father?

What about you?   Do you find yourself fighting battles you don't need to and sleeping through ones you should be awake for?  How is your prayer life?  What do you do to watch for the devious works of Satan?

National Adoption Awareness Month

November is National Adoption Awareness Month.  I'm so thankful that America uses a month to highlight the beautiful institution of adoption and the need for adoption.  I thought I would join in by offering a meager list of things that I've learned about adoption over the years.  This comes from my experience as an adoptee as well as an adoptive parent.  Each situation is, of course, different.  But hopefully this will be a blessing to someone who is (or is thinking about becoming) in the trenches.


...Waiting is hard.  A lot of time is spent waiting when you are trying to adopt.  And it can be downright agonizing at times.  Imagine the last week or two of pregnancy times six months? a year? two years?  Waiting on papers, waiting on government officials, court dates...the list seems endless... God seems to delight to use the waiting though, so it's never wasted.  When we wait on government officials to do their jobs in assuring that our child isn't being trafficked, it is an opportunity to love others like we love ourselves. (We wouldn't want our children to be trafficked if it was us living in poverty, so we don't want others treated that way either!)  God also uses the waiting to dig a fertile ground for attachment, to give us a mama-bear tendency to fight for our child, and to give us the good gifts of more trust in God to move mountains, and more patience and hope...which are always good qualities for one's soul to possess more of.

Finally the waiting was over!  They were in our arms and it felt so so good!

...Attachment may take a very long time.  For some reason this surprised me with our first adoption.  I thought that after a year had passed with not much attachment to show for it, that I had failed.  I thought that it would never happen.  Turns out it just took a lot longer than the timeline I had in my head...as in three years or so (and going).  Adoptive moms, let's throw out our ideas of a nice neat timeline and go with God's.  It's so much more beautiful that way.

Those first smiles were very hard to come by, but this was a precious one that encouraged me during those months.

...Attachment is worth fighting for.  When it begins to happen, it is stunningly gorgeous.  That first hug where your child melts into you, that first note that she brings to you, the first time you put your hand on his back and he doesn't tense up but rather looks to you and smiles... it's worth it.  Don't give up.  And never doubt God's ability to make it happen in his time.  Remember those mountains he moved while you were waiting?  Same God.  He can move mountains in hearts too.

This girl, now my darling daughter, has a whole history, but we are still trusting God as he weaves our stories together.

...Attachment goes both ways.  This surprised me to.  Parents, and I would guess mamas in particular, need to work at attaching to their child.  For some it comes naturally, so I've heard.  For many, it doesn't.  Learn how much God loves you and be a funnel of that love to your child.  Make it your goal that no matter what, your child will know how much he or she is loved and valued by the God of the universe.  Your heart will eventually follow to it's fullest.  No need to fear, but just keep working on it and praying for it.

That smile was weak because of the wind and because of how stinkin hard it was.

...Appreciate diversity.  Diversity on the surface is easy to appreciate.  I love the different skin tones, hair types and accents.  But diversity really happens at a much deeper level.  A biologically related family has the blessing of, well, biology!  Being genetically the same material means that you can often see yourself in your kids and have a small idea of what's going on and what they are doing.  I know, not always...but still, it's in there...sayings like "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree" don't come from nowhere, right?  When suddenly there is a different flavored apple from another tree thrown in, it's easy to not know where thought patterns and preferences come from and therefore subconsciously despise them or be kind of annoyed by them.  But those apples are still so sweet and delicious...just a different kind of delicious!  We must learn to appreciate that deeper diversity.  I love seeing how my kids enjoy things differently, relate to God in different ways, and do things differently.  Appreciating the deeper aspects of diversity has also given my biological kids more courage to be themselves, knowing they will be appreciated.  They know they don't have to be carbon copies of each other or us.  This is also, by the way, a blessing of adopting more than once...it further diversifies your family into a beautiful picture.  (Fruit basket?  haha...just kidding...we won't go too far with the analogies...ahem...)

I love it that these guys love to cook!  That didn't come from our apple tree! Haha!

...Adoption is a covenant.  I'm very well aware that adoptive families disagree here.  If that is you, know that I love you and I know that you have faced very very deep trials and did not make your decision lightly.  While we believe that we can take general truths from the Bible here, we also know that the Bible is silent on this very specific issue.  So I'm not here to condemn you or put you down, but I still want to say what we believe.  When we adopted our children we made a covenant with them, not unlike a marriage covenant.  Just like we believe that divorce is wrong, we also believe that disruption is wrong.  Disruption is the name used for placing a child for adoption again, after he has been adopted once.  Just like we would never place our biological children for adoption no matter what they did, we will never place our adopted children for adoption again.  Yes, there might be circumstances that would dictate a child finding another place to live for a time (I've seen that in biological children too), but we won't ever break the promise that we made to them before a God ordained judge...that we will love them and treat them "as if they were one in the same as if they had been born out of [our] bodies."  This level of commitment has been a blessing through the hard times and given a solid ground to land on both for us and for our children.  

Celebrating the finish line in Uganda.  Celebrations don't last, but this commitment? It's forever.

...Adoption is beautiful and worth being involved in.  It is a beautiful reflection of our adoption in Christ.  Through adoption our families can become a beautiful picture of what the diversity of heaven will be like.  Learning to love and the opportunity to take care of "the least of these." is amazing.  I encourage everyone to take this month to prayerfully consider how you can be involved in the world of adoption and foster care.  Should your family adopt?  Should you donate money towards another family trying to adopt?  What about foster care? Respite care for those in the trenches?  Maybe just commit to praying for a family who is struggling through an adoption!  All of these are greatly beneficial to this important institution.

Adoption is as beautiful as this girl's smile. 

I know I've only just begun with this list.  What about you?  If you have adopted, what has God taught you?  What other ways can Christians rise up to take care of orphans?  How about churches?  What a blessing we can be when we step out in faith!

11 Baptisms!

 Today in church we had 11 baptisms!  And four of them changed their names from Muslim names to Christian names.What a reason for celebration!

Easter Grace

Easter was yesterday.   What a blessed day it was!  Our family had our traditional big breakfast.  We had a wonderful Sunday school and church service focusing on the Resurrection of Christ.  We had a record attendance, I think...over 200 people!  Our church served soda and mandazi (donut like things) after the service.  After the service, the kids in Miss Sarah's reading class sang a song and her ballet class performed their dance that they had been learning.  Then we had about 35 people over for lunch: the Magalas, a couple families from our team and a few other friends.  Then we had our normal program in the afternoon for all the kids.

In the morning, as I was finishing our breakfast preparations in the dark (power had been off for more than 24 hours, our batteries were finished and it was too early to put on the noisy generator), I was remembering an Easter from a very very long time ago.

It was our first Easter as a little family having moved away from where our families were.  Eric was in Seminary and our little Timothy was just a baby, and I was pregnant with Katelyn.  For some reason (I really can't remember all the details...likely I was just trying to survive morning sickness), I had hardly given a passing thought to the fact that it was Easter.  Until I went to church.  Everyone was in their Easter finest and they were all talking about who in their extended clan was going to host dinner, what they were eating, what their plans were.  And my friend turned to me and asked, "So what are your plans for Easter dinner?"  The awful truth was, it was just PB &J at home!  Timothy didn't have any new cute clothes and there was no roast waiting in the oven.  I laugh when I think about it now!  On that day though, I remember going home in tears.  My tears were tears of loneliness and failure.

I learned two lessons that day.  First, I counted the cost, for the first time, in a very real way, of what it meant to be in ministry.  I realized that I would likely never have another Easter with our physical family.  And we haven't.  And now, we are making almost four years not even having seen most of our physical family.  There is a cost to ministry.  I have always been amazed though, at how much God has returned to us!  After that first Easter, I have never had a holiday without our Christian family around.  God has always provided so much family away from family for us!  He is so gracious to us!

Second, I realized that as a wife and a mom, I needed to be more careful to make our holidays to be true Holy Days.  I needed to be careful not to over-do the holy day in an earthly temporal way, but not to under-do it so as to loose the spiritual blessing of using one day out of the year to give my family the opportunity to particularly focus on an aspect of Christ's earthly ministry.  That particular Easter, I was guilty of the second.  God gives us days of feasting and celebration because he loves to see his people rejoicing and exalting in Him and His completed work!  It is good and noble work, as a wife and a mom, to participate in that...to help the family rejoice and celebrate!    

I love the fact that yesterday we were surrounded by so much joy.  There were people.  There was praise, there was worship, there was food, there was fellowship, there was singing!  What a great way to celebrate: Christ conquered sin and death!  He Has Done It!!!  (Ps. 22:31) We are no longer slaves, but free.  No longer having a heart of stone, but rather a heart of flesh.  No longer lonely, but set into a great big family.  No longer left to worship ourselves, but rather to worship the One who made us!  No longer left to starve, but rather allowed to feast on the Righteousness of Christ.  No longer blind, but now able to see.  What grace...

...what beautiful Easter grace...

A Personal Retreat

While the big kids and Eric were off at youth camp for the second half of the week, Sarah (our amazing Missionary Associate) stayed home with the littles and I had the opportunity to take a personal retreat.  I went to Jinja and stayed in a super sweet banda at a retreat center on the banks of the Nile.  Although most Ugandans would probably consider me clinically depressed for wanting to be by myself for a few days (A Ugandan would never be alone by choice) my intent was merely to spend some quality, uninterrupted time with Jesus.  And I highly, highly recommend this to any person who leads a life filled with people...be they big or little. :)  I love my quiet time in the morning reading my Bible, journaling and praying, but time constraints and the pitter patter of little feet wanting a morning snuggle, often cause me to wrap things up earlier than I want.  I took off from here wanting extended time for prayer, Bible reading and refreshment.  I downloaded a series by Elizabeth Elliot called Suffering is Not for Nothing.  It was so so good! (Although you do have to look past the 80s fashion styles...oy!)  I am super thankful to all my helpers for letting me do this.  It was a huge blessing to me and hopefully my family will also reap the fruit of this time as well!