Forgive and Remember

I think it is interesting that the Apostle Paul, writer of most of the Christian Canon, preaches forgiveness for enemies, and at the same time warns followers to remember the sins of those who opposed his ministry.
I think it is interesting that the LORD God met Moses face-to-face, intimately, and yet would not let him cross into the Promised Land, because he struck the rock instead of speaking to it.
There is such a thing as "too far". Judas knew that, too late. Jesus did not say, "Good for you; you brought about my sacrificial atonement on the cross by betraying me." No, Jesus said, "Woe to you; it would be better that you were never born."
Forgiving is not forgetting; it is surrendering the reality of that situation to the Lordship of Christ, for His judgment. I would make a horrible judge; I'm tainted. Like old Betty once quoted, "Leave room for the Wrath of God." Surrender wrath to the One who sees clearly.
It removes the stone from my hand, but proclaims, "...be on your guard."
So I will seek to forgive, but I will also remember the words spoken, the actions taken, not as idols to worship, but reminders of what some people are capable of as I press onward.
Jesus warns his disciples, "I'm sending you out as sheep among wolves, so be gentle as doves but wise as serpents." I will learn from my past; I will not be naive. I know there are those who hide in hallowed halls yet harbor shadowed intention. They will be found out, exposed for what they are, for how they have counseled. God is not mocked; a person reaps what they sow.
The heart is deceitful above all other things; deceit is the opposite of truth. Deceit creates its own reality as an unholy idol. It's worshipers end in death, from the inside out, firstly because they believe their own lies.
The truth will always set us free.
That is the power of confession, not to make anything-- but to release captives.
I desire life; I have value.
Please show me who I am.
I desire freedom; I have a ministry ahead of me.
Please show me my next step in obedience.
I need you, Jesus. All else I surrender before You: my sins, my failings, my flaws, my fear... my shallow theology.
Jesus, today is Easter; please raise my heart from the dead... catch me on fire and watch me burn.

Spring '09

It's spring; I can feel life returning from the death of Winter.
It's a new world today.
Yesterday can never return, except in fading memory.
Birds are singing today to find a new mate or re-establish an old territory.
Trees are wafting their pollen.
Flowers adorn the land in an exclamation that God is bigger.
This is the Present, the Now.
It is the Easter season: the challenge of Jerusalem, the betrayal, the death, the waiting, and the resurrection.
Glory be to God, and blessings on those who live for holiness.

Why pray?

So I pray for dear friends and family members who are having scary surgeries, and I'm hearing myself pray, and I'm wondering why I pray.
I mean, God already loves them fully.
Do I hope to persuade God to love them more?
Does He not desire that my beloved friends experience His presence?
Already?
I get the part about how prayer opens me up to God in my life, a way of surrendering my will to my LORD. But there is something weird about asking something of the Creator of the Universe, as if He wouldn't do it unless I prayed for it or something.
I do not mean to be disrespectful; that would be horror to me.
I just confess my spiritual ignorance publicly.

Moving forward...

A new world awaits... "Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit." I let go.
They say it gets better.
No more ripping me; healing.
New ways of life.
New sources of comfort.
The old is gone.

Waiting and Letting Go

I do not know how to do this part of life.
I do not want to hurt.
I do not want to hurt others.
I see friends trying to protect;
defense becomes offense.
I write to confess the incomplete, broken person that I am.
I went through the Valley of the Shadow once before,
deluded in thinking it was best to crawl in a hole and die, silently;
didn't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable;
didn't want to make waves-- so I went away.
I cannot be perfect, though I expect it.
I despise my weakness.
I have to back off; this raw Blogging is not working for me.
If you want to know how I am,
Invite me to your home,
to visit face to face.
I am.

Saying goodbye

Saying goodbye, in Christian circles, is a temporary thing in the grander scheme of things.
With the passing of a grandparent or the tragic death of a friend, the Christian says "goodbye" and experiences the pain of being away, yet there is a subtle hope that leans toward "one day" we will meet again.
The death of a marriage must be the same.
K: follow God.
I'm sorry; I wish I had not been depressed when you were so lonely.
I asked you not to go to Austin, not to go to Burning Man, not to contact BB any more-- twice.
I wish the counselor was as courageous with us as our tribe was.
5 months is a long time to endure the betrayal and deceit of an affair.
I can no longer protect you. You have your own friends now.
I give you to God.
God is bigger; God is better.
Thank you for your word: "hope".
Shared mutually.
ttfn.
Goodbye.

How weird is that?

So this is how weird I am:
I am afraid that if I tell you that I am hurting or in need or something, then you will not want to be around me, because my role is to help you.
How weird is that.
It's like I'm afraid of being human or something.
I cannot be incomplete.
I cannot be messy.
I cannot have moods, or leave stuff out, not if I want to be loved.
How weird is that!
Crazy.
Welcome to my world.

Power Struggles and Control

What is the difference between "heal-grabber" and "grapples-with-God"?
Reading the OYB recently, the story of Jacob stirs curiosities within me.
Why would God choose this manipulative punk, this momma's-boy?
Why would God spare this deceiver?
and why would God wrestle instead of smite? Smite me?
Why doesn't God just smite me?
Why does God allow me to wrestle, vying for control in this power struggle called life?
Why doesn't He just pin me?
And why does he have to do the Ninja-Hip-thing and leave me crippled in what otherwise might be my scariest confrontation, like coming face-to-face with Esau... my history?
And what fear drives this power struggle?
Why can't I just surrender-- is it because I really don't trust God?
Really trust him?
Or maybe I'm supposed to stand at the river and fight Him?
What fool fights God? Right? No?
But Jacob fights God and gets blessed. Of course he's crippled for the rest of his life; there's that...
Very confusing.

Year's End

A co-worker put a page from Puritan Prayers and Devotions in my box today entitled "Year's End". I liked it. Here are some excerpts (p.204-5):

"O Love beyond compare, Thou art good when thou givest, when thou takest away,
When the sun shines on me, when night gathers over me.
Thou hast loved me before the foundation of the world, and in love didst redeem my soul;
Thou dost love me still, in spite of my hard heart, ingratitude, distrust.
Thy goodness has been with me during another year, leading me through a twisting wilderness, in retreat helping me to advance, when beaten back making sure headway..."

"...I bless thee that thou hast veiled my eyes to the waters ahead.
If thou hast appointed storms of tribulation, thou wilt be with me in them;
If I have to pass through tempests of persecution and temptation, I shall not drown;
If I am to die, I shall see thy face the sooner;
If a painful end is to be my lot, grant me grace that my faith fail not;
If I am cast aside from the service I love, I can make no stipulation;
Only--glorify thyself in me whether in comfort or in trial, as a chosen vessel meet always for thy use."

Thank you Lord Jesus.
Thank you for 22 years with Kathy,
for 47 years of sunshine and rain,
for 11 years of teaching high school,
for 27 years of working with young people.
Lord, thank you for the friends I've met near and far,
for those who slowed their pace to bring me along.
Lord, thank you for family who gathered and celebrated kinship, good food and conversation.
Thank you for being born lucky, in Texas, with plenty to eat.
Most of all, Lord, thank you for coming to our broken world in a crazy-fun sneak-attack-- Jesus, you came to the least, as one of them, and gave us Hope where there was none.
Jesus, thank you for choosing the cross; you died for me, for us, yet you alone were innocent-- help us to live out your Love, even to our enemies.
Help me to be compassionate for those who are so lost in their own rationalizations that they play at "religion" and live for themselves... for such am I when the mirror shines my glance.
Help me to be faithful, a servant of the King.
Thank you for December, Lord. Thank you. Amen.

Lonesome George

Today's Chronicle had an interesting article on Lonesome George, the last of his species on the Galapagos Islands. We saw him last year on a science trip to the tortoise refuge; it was very sobering to see his massive hulking profile a hundred meters away, knowing when he died, there would be no more after him.
Park ecologists have tried uniting him with a variety of different females, and this last mate finally produced a full clutch of eggs... none were fertilized. Scientists do not understand why; they are doing lots of blood work (needles? not my idea of libido-stimulating activity) to see what went wrong. Poor George.
Yesterday a very different event occurred; a friend's husband passed from this world and fell into Christ's embrace. How different we are from the beasts of the field. Lord, thank you for the Hope you brought us when you suffered on the cross in our stead. Teach us to love others like you love us. Amen.

Dear Jesus

"Dear Jesus, I love you."
Santry wrote this prayer on a FOM blog this weekend, and I am reminded...
Jesus is my lover.
Jesus loves me back.
Jesus offers me intimacy and acceptance.
Dear Jesus, I yearn for your kisses.
Dear Jesus, I hunger for your presence.
Dear Jesus, I need your arms around me, to hold me and hug me and comfort me when this world leaves me alone and empty.
Dear Jesus, help me to fall passionately in love with you.
Amen. --jim

Lions, Tigers and Bears

Random thought: one does not need to enter the lion's cage to be destroyed by it. This is a spiritual thought.

The Economy Bailout and the Common Flu: a Rant

Perhaps it's merely temporal juxtaposition, but I see a similarity between me typing in my sickbed, thankful that my fever finally broke, and the current "Economic Crisis" and resulting government bailout (think-- you're family's tax money being paid to wealthy corporations who invested poorly) that occurred this week.

Working as a high school teacher I am continually exposed to students, gregarious creatures with tendencies for face to face interactions, phone-texting not included. They come to my classroom, a new batch of 20 every hour or so and we breathe each other's air. Perhaps more relevant is the scenario when a sickly student returns to school and ends up needing tutoring or making up a lab after school-- this 1:1 interaction dooms me to eventual infection, now only if my immune system can withstand it. Only, I'm not sleeping well, not eating well, and the marriage is on the rocks this week. Not good timing. So the other day I wake up all achy with no energy... happy day, a virus has invaded my defenses and I'm trashed!
In broader news: the Bail-out.
There are several sources that can break down events leading up to this massive, taxpayer-squeezing move by our federal politicians, so I won't bore you with my ineptitude. The commonality woven through each is something like this: local money-lenders gave money to local people to buy homes, people who they knew probably wouldn't pay them back (bad). But they did business on the assumption that SOME of the people WOULD pay them back (good debt), and that houses would increase in value. Then the lenders packaged all the bad debt into this bundle I'll call "Junk". Since it was packaged, it could be sold to someone wanting to take a risk on buying Junk, with the hope that (like the lottery) there might be a big payoff in the end.
Never came. Housing was OVER-valued... They're trashed!
Now the US government, with access to your family's income (tax), is going to come in and buy all this Junk, not because Junk a good investment (stewardship), but because it will make Wall Street and lenders happy (politics) in an election year, regardless of long-term ripples. Which is actually funny, because most public companies' fundamentals are unchanged... they're just cheaper to buy (hint: buy low...now is low). This feels like some big, propped-up madness in trying to avoid the natural consequences of doing bad business, lowering the prices of stocks that are solid investments, and this is because some greedy fund-manager way over-invested in Fannie Mae or Freddy Mac and started a stampede of technical-investing reactionaries, to which our all-knowing Federal politicians are now going to spend our hard-earned, middle-class cash to solve a problem that would eventually run its course, like the flu. But elections are in November. And please don't tell me T-bills are not the same as tax dollars; how does the US gov't get the money to pay it's debts?
In my Comments below, perhaps you could correct my thinking or improve my metaphor, but I see it something like this: I don't get to bed earlier, I skip meals all week long, I expose myself to sick students all week long, meanwhile the home-front is crumbling and end up feeling achy, because I now have the flu. So I call the Mayor who I helped elect, who sends a Life-Flight helicopter to pick me up and take me to Ben Taub, where attending physicians put me through a series of tests, put me on a gourney, place me in a hospital room with the best care, and I feel better in a couple of days... look it worked! Only let's say I'm broke-- now who is going to pay for the helicopter? for the physicians? for the bed space? for the medications? Oh, and I'll need a taxi ride home... I know, I'll make everybody else pay for it... why... it's not a lot of money if you spread it out, right?
Junk!
This smells like the Savings & Loan bail-out, or like Enron, like we keep repeating this laughable routine of paying off greedy multi-millionaires with taxpayer wages, except the only ones laughing (privately, so as not to be rude) are those who are avoiding the consequence of bad business, and the politicians who spend your money to position themselves for re-election (meanwhile extolling how they can relate to the common man--they feel our pain).
Maybe it's just the flu speaking...

And Then There was Ike

God has a sense of humor, and some of that is just good timing.
Within 2 weeks of my last post, Hurricane Ike hit Houston, TX, where I live, leaving my community without electrical power for 2 weeks... Power returned 2 days ago.
And I reiterate... Hurricanes are good. Here are some things I learned during these last 2 weeks:

• When you have to dress for work by flashlight, the LED glow may not help you match clothes well.
• When you have to cook outside in the back yard, plan an extra 20 minutes to reduce the fire to good coals
• A propane camp stove can boil water just as easy for coffee as an electric range, perhaps even faster.
• Air-conditioning makes bad neighbors; when you have to sit on the porch or in the driveway, and everyone else is doing the same, you get to know each other while the kids are playing on the street, riding bikes and laughing with each other... instead of holed up by themselves in front of a video game or the one-eyed-brain-sucker.
• The sweltering heat of a still night is in direct proportion to the loudness of a neighbor's portable generator or the sounds of gecko's peeping for one another.
• People show their true colors after 3 days without power; they either share or hoard, rarely in-between... My personal favorite is when you help a neighbor for hours with a fallen tree across their driveway down at the end of the cul-de-sac, but when you consider putting the fallen limbs from the old widow across the street down at an unused spot of concrete on the far end of the culdesac so her lawn doesn't die, he comes out and cusses you out with a string of racial slurs about trashing up the front of his house (btw, you couldn't even see from his house where these extra limbs went, because they were on the backside of his huge pile of tree/limbs and improperly bagged trash).
  
• frozen deer sausage can be used to keep other items cool in the ice box
• eat the nonfrozen items from the ice box first while the deer sausage thaws
  
• barbeque the deer sausage when it thaws
• a man cannot eat cooked deer sausage for 3 consecutive meals without biological consequences.
• frozen fish sticks do not keep
• ice becomes water; good for drinks, bad for breads
• you can use the same bath water twice
• you can flush the pot with used bath water
• a natural gas water heater is wonderful
• an electric stove/oven sucks
• Biblical Christianity looks like a neighbor allowing you to run an extension cord from across the street while your side of the street waits an additional week for power because Centerpoint did not trim their right-of-ways.
• Apparently ice machines and gasoline stations require a Police presence during a natural disaster
• some people are selfish pigs who don't play fairly
• Most people are wonderful, compassionate, and generous
  

Hurricanes are Good

Hurricanes are good.
In North America we annually have several species of migratory creatures that head south. The monarch butterfly, for example, is a sailor, using its spinnakers to flutter down to Mexico for the winter, and as all sailors know, wind is your guide.
Mankind, in a time when we were not burning "ancient sunlight" to fuel a depleting and non-sustainable industrial revolution, knew all about the trade winds. Nations would set sail for cargo or perhaps the pursuit of freedoms, knowing that at certain seasons or latitudes the prevailing winds will carry you toward your destination.
And so, here along the Gulf of Mexico, we understand that hurricanes come with the heat of summer or early autumn. It's just part of the rhythm.
One of the funniest things I've ever heard were a group of ignorant democrats blaming Bush for hurricanes-- I laugh just remembering that episode, so funny... like the stooges, Moe and Curly-- so sincere and so ridiculous! (What's even funnier is when anti-Bush types have no idea that it was Clinton/Gore who chose not to ratify the Kyoto Protocol, resulting in several staff quitting-- priceless!)
That's like blaming Obama for freezing rain in winter! Crazy!
Hurricanes tend to enter the Gulf of Mexico in such a way that the prevailing winds (counter-clockwise) bring the air mass southward, down the Texas coast toward the winter grounds in Mexico and beyond. This southward flow benefits butterflies, broad-tailed hawks and blue-winged teal, which migrate at the end of summer.
Hurricanes are a natural balance, a blessing from God upon His Creation.
And please don't shake your fist at the Almighty when you chose to build your homes along hurricane-front property and they are destroyed... hurricanes will happen.
And pretty-please, don't complain when you build a city below sea-level, and wonder why it floods... that is insanity, like jumping off a cliff and complaining about the landing.
Hurricanes happen.
Once upon a time God made man in His own image and placed him in His Garden, to tenderly care for it by pruning it to keep it in balance. Man rejected God, mined groundwater creating subsidence, burned fossils til the skies turned gray with waste, took what he wanted and left the poor to fend for themselves, then questioned why we have hurricanes.
Hurricanes remind us that we are not God.
And that's a good thing.

Dinora's Priest and Shane Claiborne's "Irresistible Revolution"

Today I was sitting in St. Jerome's Catholic mass for a precious student's Quinceanera, totally enjoying the moment... ok, the mariachi band and film crew from MTV threw me initially, but the priest kept things on track. The stain glass is awesome: there are three exposures--left (south), above the alter, and right, which read in order: "Christ has died", "Christ has risen", "Christ shall come again". Awesome!
Above the alter is a beautiful sculpture of my crucified savior; to the left is an alter to I assume Mary?
So we're worshiping together, and I'm praying for this little sister in Christ and for her precious family, and the priest starts to prepare the elements for the Eucharist (communion), and he says this amazing introductory prayer over the bread... something like, "Lord, we are unworthy to receive these elements... Lord, say the word and Thy servant will be healed." There were tears in my eyes, because I know that there is NOTHING I can do to deserve what Jesus did on the cross; and I am painfully aware that without Christ's mercy and grace, there is no healing for the sin that separates me from His presence.
So I'm sitting there in that pew, tears filling my eyes with an awareness of what Christ has done for an unworthy servant such as myself, and I hear these words: "Only Catholics are allowed to participate in the elements, but if you want a blessing come forward and cross your arms and I will bless you." That means, I will touch your forehead, but you are not invited to the real deal.
This is not the first time I have been un-invited to the Lord's table.
I even thought about going up there and having the priest refuse to share the bread, but that would not honor Christ, only sate my hurt spirit.
So I quietly sat in my pew, finding it difficult to rationalize "being blessed" by the very arm that barred me from my Lord's sacrament.
And then it hit me.
We do the same thing to the homeless.
We bar them from our fellowships.
We gate our communities.
We hire armed guards so we don't have to encounter the homeless or impoverished in our luxurious living.
How is that any different from this Catholic brother who refuses access to Followers of Jesus?
It's really not.
When people buy property for their faith community, do they make sure the location is near the bus routes, or do they tuck it into some suburban neighborhood, barricaded by pedestrian hardship?
Claiborne's book, Irresistible Revolution, is really messing with my Americanized pseudo-Christianity. The Mentor-ship of Campolo is very evident in his writings, reinforced with his eyewitness accounts of living out Christian community in a way that threatens the very fabric of today's empire... Constantine would NOT be amused, but Jesus would smile.
So how do we live out Christ's commands to love your neighbor, sharing all that you have so that no one is needy? How do we step into Christ's command to take up our cross like he did in Jerusalem and follow Him into certain (or at least possible) death? That's crazy talk.
But it's Jesus talk.
And to call Jesus talk "crazy" is to confess that we do not Follow... we simply observe from a safe distance.
It's a lot like the MTV reception following the Mass: the DJ was inviting the young people to come join in the celebration on the dance floor, and the vast majority stood in a scattered semi-circle, far enough from the festivities to be "safe", yet looking earnestly side to side, hoping some of their peers would lead them with those first few steps forward.
Nothing. Fear ruled.
The celebration was only joined when excited participants left the dance floor to come firmly lead their peers back into the festivities.
I ache that someone would come for me... to take my hand and lead me past the limitations of my own fearful faith.
Come Lord Jesus.

Dead Zone

In the last decade increasing evidence made its way into the popular media regarding a phenomenon in the Gulf of Mexico: the Dead Zone.
A dead zone is an area of marine ecosystem relatively devoid of life, hence: "dead"; this abiotic situation is usually attributed to a lack of dissolved oxygen, an elemental limiting factor required by both people and pisces.
The origin of a dead zone is a great ecological paradox; it is caused by too many nutrients in the water. As we began to put down our cell phones and pick up our notepads we began to unravel a forensic event in geographic scale. Farmers, subsidized by cheap petroleum-based fertilizer (primarily nitrates) found it easier to apply this artificial nutrient to their corn crops than to go through the arduous task of organically growing their cash-crop in a sustainable manner. Since this form of nitrogen is very water-soluble, that which is left over is flushed by the next inundation, so farmers err on the side of plenty. Unfortunately all rivers tend to lead to the sea, in this case the Gulf, and with the water flows massive amounts of artificial fertilizer.
So how can fertilizer kill fish? Is it toxic to them?
Not at these levels. No, one must think "macrosystems", the big picture of how organisms interact within an ecosytem. Nutrients are by definition nutritional, so what would benefit from all this nitrogen in the water world? Water plants, obviously.
"Wait-- water plants kill fish?"
Sort of...
Algae love fertilizer, and algae are photosynthetic, which produce oxygen as a by product... so wouldn't artificial fertilizer actually increase the amount of oxygen available to fish? At one glance, certainly.
So what's the problem?
It's artificial.
Meaning, that naturally this much nitrogen is not available on a continuous basis. Algae do not have bank accounts or purchase commodity futures; algae only know "grow and multiply" if there is much nutrition, stabilize if there is just the right amount of fertilizer, or die if there is not enough nutrients to support its population. Any kid who tried to raise a garden can appreciate this.
So what would happen if someone started messing with the levels of nutrients? Bingo!
When all that excess nitrogen hits the aquatic ecosystem, the algae respond like it's springtime all over again and "bloom" into massive population growth. But wait, the farmer stops putting fertilizer on his corn, which now cuts off this waiting mass of downstream phytoplankton, so the algae die off. Nature knows what to do with dead things-- it's called decomposition, and the critters beautifully designed for the job are bacteria. Though there are some exceptions, bacteria are excellent at quickly breaking down dead stuff as long as there is oxygen present in the water. In time the bacteria use up all the oxygen trying to decompose the dead algae that previously bloomed because a farmer used too much federally subsidized, petroleum-based fertilizer to grow a poor food stock for federally mandated ethanol, and now nothing can grow in large regions of the Gulf. So instead of using petroleum products to fuel our vehicles, we use petroleum products to grow our additives, which is then mixed back in with the other petroleum distillates, but now at a larger ecological cost, all in the name of saving the planet.
So in reduction, corn kills. Awesome.
I think that's funny.
I also think it is a metaphor (OK, fine-- to me, everything is a metaphor!)
How often, in trying to be productive in one part of our lives, do we completely trash something else entirely unexpectedly?
And how often in peoples lives does "plenty" result in "devastation"? Proverbs 23 warn us to hold a knife to our own throats when dining with affluent people, because you might develop a taste for their delicacies.
How often do we come away from encounters feeling emptier because of envy? How often do we lose perspective of the blessings we have already received, because a spirit whispers "more" into our contentment?
And why do I feel these dead zones in my own soul, these anoxic nether-regions that persist even though I know the joy of Christ's salvation?
How can I be dead inside? I feel nothing. I hope for nothing. I expect nothing outside of the present, and in that: that God would not leave me in this my final hour.

Reflections on Moldova

I've finally settled back into a normal sleep cycle; awakening at 3:30 am feeling like-I'm-late-for- something was wearisome (Moldova time is 8 hours ahead... 3:30am would be lunch time there.) The main thing I carry with me from Moldova is the people I've met while helping with Operation Mobilization.
I think of Dana, our Romanian guide who tirelessly poured out herself to the children of the poverty-stricken villages; through singing, playing field games and even illusions/tricks she let those children know they were special... precious. Her gentleness and humility were a great asset to her leadership on our trip. She was also hopelessly in love with Eugen, and was constantly texting him during her down time... ah, young love.
Nate Sloan was the energetic catalyst of our team. Nate is a Houston guy, postponing his junior year at Baylor to explore a calling to experience world missions and ending up in Moldova. He was at the end of his term and had become fluent in the language. I love how God used his love of sports and child-like impulsiveness to melt the hearts of the children we met. A classic memory is in the village of Antoneşti-- Nate, the hairy football linebacker is crawling and scrambling all over the playground equipment, much to their delight, evidenced by the squeals of his 'prey'! Or the rough and tumble wrestling match with Iosef. Or the US v. Moldova soccer match in the OM courtyard. Or standing there at the sink in the OM kitchen, washing the dishes of a group that just came in from Canada-- a gracious service to weary brethren and to the kitchen staff who already left for the evening. Or awakening again (roosters start crowing at 4:30 am, dogs never stop barking) at 7 am to the sound of Nate playing his guitar downstairs and singing worship songs to start his day. Inspirational blessing.
I think of Claudia, the OM missionary from Switzerland who also served as translator. Claudia has the heart of a pastor, taking time to listen one-to-one to the children that were lonely, or sensing an opportunity and leading a child to pray to receive Christ. Or taking a moment to listen to the grieving story of a Moldovan woman who is dealing with the scars of breast cancer. Claudia's quiet strength and humility never raised herself up to be recognized; instead she quietly served others and let others experience popularity whose personalities were more atuned to such delicacies.
I am reminded of Brother ("Frate") Nicolai and his wife, Nina, and their seven children. Nicolai has the heart of an apostle, starting 7 churches already and raising up local leaders to tend the first 5. Nicolai often spoke in scriptural metaphor.. if only I knew his language! He started a greenhouse for raising tomatoes and cucumbers, which were served at every meal in all the homes we visited. He took me to visit a retired school master, a mathematics teacher who survived the soviet purges and was hungry to learn about the Bible and things formerly forbidden. Claudia came and interpreted; I don't know what was expected of the encounter, but I know that Nicolai has been praying for the spiritual transformation of this faithful member of his congregation in Antonesch. Nicolai also had a playful spirit, but I'm afraid much was lost in translation. Memories of Nicolai include him stopping off at homes in his little cargo van, delivering food to the needy; going to pick up the children in the second village, Tegheci, fearful that the local authorities would persecute them for playing soccer in the town field because they were from the Bible church (the Orthodox Church is politically connected with the communists in Moldova); practicing English words as earnestly as I was trying out my poor attempts at Moldovan. His children were: Ina,Vera, Iulia, Iosef, Samuel, Abram, and little Valerica.
Other OM friends we met were Eugen, a dear friend of Nates who used his soccer skills to reach the local boys in the village. Also Barb, who was the staff leader there, a Canadian grandmother who has faithfully served there for years, yet longed to return to see her grandchildren in Canada.
Our local contingency from Houston included Dave and Kate Sloan (father and sister of Nate), Bryan and Julian Tantzen (father and son team with soccer skills), and big ol' Jason Roberts. Jason was a favorite target of Abram and Samuel's ninja skills, sometimes reenacting the rise of the Lilliputians on Gulliver! Kate was great at holding and cherishing and loving on the children.
Last of all were the villagers we met in Moldova. I am reminded of Veleri and wife Angelica, faithful Followers who persevere in the last village visited, threatened with death or being burned out of home, and constantly being interrogated by city officials because of their faith in Christ. (God, please heal Angelica, and encourage their 2 boys.) I think of our hosts in Antonesht, Sora ("sister") Maria and husband George, and their precious granddaughter Gabriela-- who like so many children are left behind as parents go off to foreign countries to find some form of employment. I think of how the countenance of the children changed over time, from stoic reservation at our initial coming to the giggling joy they had by the time we left the villages, from trying to encourage the children to come to VBS at first, to have groups of children waiting in the streets to accompany us to VBS in the following days... the smiles that erupted when we called them by name: Ion, Sasha, Roman, Alina, ...God, please remember your children in Moldova.
I encourage each of you to consider some kind of cross-cultural mission experience; it will stretch you! Memorable moments on this trip include: how to use the Moldovan toilet; how to bathe in a foot tub; how to get used to mineral water; how to get by without language skills; how to trust God because of limitations; how much greater love is than knowledge.
ps- thanks to Jason Roberts for the awesome pic of the "white house" at Sora Maria's home. (note: every villager had an outhouse, AND a water well... we didn't drink the water!)

Together in Jesus

This link goes to the FOM website to a recent lesson I gave on Ephesians.
It's amazing how relevant Moldava's growing church is like the early church.
The lesson is about 25 minutes.
If you listen to it, I'd love to read your comments on what stands out to you, especially in light of the church today, including your life here and now.
Cheers,
jim

I'm going to Moldova

I'm going to Moldova today. Number one response: "Where's that?"
Best answer: "Between Romania and Ukraine."
Second common response: "Why?"
Best answer: "I'm not really sure; it was just an opportunity for me to get out of my comfortable little rut, and explore what perhaps God had for me in a world bigger than west Houston."
Second best answer: "I wanted to meet the people of Moldova, experience Christ's church in a different culture, and make myself available for God, however He might use me."
Q? "What are the challenges?"
A. I don't know the language, it costs thousands of bucks to get to a poor country (better stewardship to support a local missionary), poor sanitation, political unrest, I don't know the customs or the culture, I don't really know anybody who is over there, and it's very short term.
Q? "What are the positives?"
A. I will be travelling with friends for most of the journey, they have a contact in Moldova, we are serving a mission agency who will provide an interpreter, I will come away with radically new experiences and relationships, I will need to trust God more, and I have a return ticket.