It was hard to leave St. Louis, but one of the hardest things was leaving the people we have ministered to, some of whom we have relationships that go back a decade. I am truly grateful that God allowed us enough time for so many people to grow to be as part of our family.
But, for anyone whose call is to full-time relational ministry, it can be very easy to slip into thinking that ministry begins and ends in us. We don't mean to start thinking that we are the center of the universe, but gosh darn it, people don't get saved without us, tasks don't get done, and, well, the earth might stop spinning on its axis if we aren't busy doing what we do.
I'd be lying if I didn't admit that when we knew we were leaving St. Louis, some of these thoughts scrolled through my head. What will all the people we've known and loved do without us?
I don't discount the magnitude of the relationships God puts in our life, but it's so much healthier for everyone if I can see myself in light of the truth. God was, is, and always will be bringing about His plans. I merely get to participate! People don't need me, they need God, and sometimes God will use me in the process and sometimes He'll use someone else.
We spent many years sowing seeds in St. Louis. We saw fruit, but mostly we were behind the plow. Some of the fruit we saw was a result of missionaries before us doing the same. Some of the fruit the missionaries who carry on in St. Louis will see is a result of our efforts...and so on. That's the beauty of God...He sees the whole picture, weaving together His purposes through the Body of Christ.
And, so, all we are responsible for is to be faithful with what lies before us. Then we will see seasons of harvest, not as our expected rewards, but as a blessing of unexpected grace. This weekend we felt that blessing.
Every year World Impact puts on a Men's Retreat. TUMI plays an integral part by providing and coordinating worship and teaching. Andrew has attended the last few years with guys from St. Louis, but this year he attended as working staff. Even though he was there in a different capacity, he still got to attend with some of the men from St. Louis that we have been working with for years. One of the men who attended for the first time this year was a neighbor, a good friend, and someone for whom we have been praying for years (this was not his first Men's Retreat invitation!)..
It is exciting to watch him continue to open up to the things of God, even from a distance, knowing that our dear friend's life is not in our hands but the hands of the God of the Universe, whose plans are always fulfilled.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Monday, October 15, 2012
Struggling to Survive
Recently we saw "To the Arctic" at the IMAX. It was Judah's first
movie theater experience and while he was a little disoriented by the surround
sound, he seemed as enthralled with the massive glaciers and arctic wildlife as
we were.
The film highlighted the melting of the arctic ice pack due to global warming, and the challenges wildlife face as a result. It particularly focused on polar bear mamas and their cubs. The melting of the ice packs makes it difficult to hunt for food and evade predators. One mama bear had to set off on an eight-day swim to find food and lost her cub in the process. Another mama of twin cubs was constantly hunting to feed them, always on the alert for danger, and even had a run-in with a hungry male polar bear after her cubs.
While listening to Meryl Streep narrate the difficulties mama bears and their cubs face, I thought, the plight of mother and child in a cruel environment is a moving one. If you want to call people to action, you show them a film about a polar bear mama tirelessly looking for food and protecting her cubs at risk of her life. People send money for that kind of thing, they take trips to see for themselves. Surely, we cannot let mother and child suffer!
And, then in my mind, the harsh arctic transformed into a city, the glaciers became city buildings and the polar bears became urban-poor mamas and their children. You don't have to go to the arctic to see mamas live heroic efforts for survival. For many women, every day in the city is a fight to survive. Life, for them, is kind of like floating on an ice pack with your children, with no one but predators around and no resources in sight. You become resourceful, cunning, and tough as nails, or you and your children don't survive. You haven't heard a roar until you see an urban mama protecting her own.
I am in awe of so many urban mamas, who don't know if they will be able to put food on the table for their kids, or protect their children from imminent danger, or ever find a man who won't use and abuse them. And, yet, they still get up every morning and fight. They are at once so strong and so broken, something that makes them awe-inspiringly beautiful to me. Sometimes I feel like I can’t make it through the day, and I have a fridge full of food and a great support network. I don’t know how they do it.
The end of the IMAX film called people to action. Send money…vote for politicians who care about the environment…live green. Work in the city is harder and messier than that. Sometimes things seem hopeless, but God is able to bring hope to the hopeless. The city needs our resources, our efforts, and most of all, our prayer.
If people can take up the cause of a polar bear, surely we can fight for urban mamas and their kids. Any little thing can be life-changing, when you are desperate to survive.
The film highlighted the melting of the arctic ice pack due to global warming, and the challenges wildlife face as a result. It particularly focused on polar bear mamas and their cubs. The melting of the ice packs makes it difficult to hunt for food and evade predators. One mama bear had to set off on an eight-day swim to find food and lost her cub in the process. Another mama of twin cubs was constantly hunting to feed them, always on the alert for danger, and even had a run-in with a hungry male polar bear after her cubs.
While listening to Meryl Streep narrate the difficulties mama bears and their cubs face, I thought, the plight of mother and child in a cruel environment is a moving one. If you want to call people to action, you show them a film about a polar bear mama tirelessly looking for food and protecting her cubs at risk of her life. People send money for that kind of thing, they take trips to see for themselves. Surely, we cannot let mother and child suffer!
And, then in my mind, the harsh arctic transformed into a city, the glaciers became city buildings and the polar bears became urban-poor mamas and their children. You don't have to go to the arctic to see mamas live heroic efforts for survival. For many women, every day in the city is a fight to survive. Life, for them, is kind of like floating on an ice pack with your children, with no one but predators around and no resources in sight. You become resourceful, cunning, and tough as nails, or you and your children don't survive. You haven't heard a roar until you see an urban mama protecting her own.
I am in awe of so many urban mamas, who don't know if they will be able to put food on the table for their kids, or protect their children from imminent danger, or ever find a man who won't use and abuse them. And, yet, they still get up every morning and fight. They are at once so strong and so broken, something that makes them awe-inspiringly beautiful to me. Sometimes I feel like I can’t make it through the day, and I have a fridge full of food and a great support network. I don’t know how they do it.
The end of the IMAX film called people to action. Send money…vote for politicians who care about the environment…live green. Work in the city is harder and messier than that. Sometimes things seem hopeless, but God is able to bring hope to the hopeless. The city needs our resources, our efforts, and most of all, our prayer.
If people can take up the cause of a polar bear, surely we can fight for urban mamas and their kids. Any little thing can be life-changing, when you are desperate to survive.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Hold Loosely
There has been a lot of loss for our family in the last few months. We moved from St. Louis, leaving our ministry, our neighbors, our friends, our home. Before we moved, someone left our gate open and our dog was never to be seen again. We've felt let down by relationships. Expectations have been unrealized. Our health has been sketchy. We're feeling culture shock as we leave a culture we've been a part of for a decade. Then we were in a car accident and our van was totaled.
Some of the losses were small, some more significant, but the trend has been a little discouraging. Andrew and I joked that we could write a bad country song, "We left our home, we miss our friends, our dog is gone, and our van was towed off to the salvage!"
In the past months not everything in our lives has been about loss (primarily, our long awaited ADOPTION!!), but there has been enough of it to make us uncomfortable. This week, in the wake of the accident, and other life nuisances, I was discouraged by all of the losses and the words "hold loosely" came to my mind.
We loved our ministry and neighborhood, city, and friends. We loved the house we lived in, having painted it just so. We were comfortable with our van. But, at the end of the day, these are peripheral things. It's so hard, in a world of materialism, to keep focus on Christ alone. Sometimes, it takes our lives being shaken up a little to hear the encouragement to "hold loosely" to all that is not Christ.
None of the things that we have lost were bad things. In fact, many of them are still very dear to our hearts. But sometimes we can get so settled in what is comfortable that we don't even realize we have a white-knuckled grip on everything but Christ.
It is exactly this lesson--to hold loosely to this world--that allows someone like Horatio Spafford, who lost his children in a shipwreck, to write words like,
Some of the losses were small, some more significant, but the trend has been a little discouraging. Andrew and I joked that we could write a bad country song, "We left our home, we miss our friends, our dog is gone, and our van was towed off to the salvage!"
In the past months not everything in our lives has been about loss (primarily, our long awaited ADOPTION!!), but there has been enough of it to make us uncomfortable. This week, in the wake of the accident, and other life nuisances, I was discouraged by all of the losses and the words "hold loosely" came to my mind.
We loved our ministry and neighborhood, city, and friends. We loved the house we lived in, having painted it just so. We were comfortable with our van. But, at the end of the day, these are peripheral things. It's so hard, in a world of materialism, to keep focus on Christ alone. Sometimes, it takes our lives being shaken up a little to hear the encouragement to "hold loosely" to all that is not Christ.
None of the things that we have lost were bad things. In fact, many of them are still very dear to our hearts. But sometimes we can get so settled in what is comfortable that we don't even realize we have a white-knuckled grip on everything but Christ.
It is exactly this lesson--to hold loosely to this world--that allows someone like Horatio Spafford, who lost his children in a shipwreck, to write words like,
When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Hold loosely...not an enjoyable lesson, but a necessary one. It reminds me of another song, which says, "Take this world, but give me Jesus. This is not where I belong."
Monday, September 24, 2012
Thoughts During a Car Crash
It's strange the things that go through your mind in moments of stress. Saturday we were driving home from the YMCA, it was a beautiful day, the windows were down as we slid into the left-hand turn lane and then...
There was no time to respond because a line of cars waiting at the red light blocked both Andrew and the other driver's view until she pulled out into us. The airbags deployed and it took a moment for my mind to catch up to what happened.
I'm not gonna lie, I totally freaked out for a second. Andrew was laughing later because he said I went into Mom-mode, yelling at him, "Are you OK? Are you OK? Are you OK?" Of course, I wouldn't have had to repeat myself so much if he had just answered yes, instead of sitting there dazed and confused like he had just been in a car accident. Then I turned and started saying "Are you OK? Are you OK? Are you OK?" to Judah, but my rational brain started catching up and I realized there was no way for a three-year-old who was screaming his terrified little heart out to answer that question. I thought, he's going to respond to you freaking out, so calm down. I went for a more reassuring "You're OK! You're OK! You're OK!"
After my very effective assessment of every one's wellness I thought, you're not supposed to stay in the car if you're in the middle of the street or someone else might hit you, so I swung around and hit the hazards. I looked for my phone to call the police, but couldn't find it. Then I remembered a news story where they warned about any free objects in your car becoming projectiles in an accident and how your phone might fly out of your reach if you need to call 911. If only I had listened to that news story, I thought. But, Andrew had become mobile by this time and was assessing the damage. The other driver had already gotten on her phone with the police, so I jumped out to grab my screaming child and head for the sidewalk. Unfortunately, he had been swimming and we forgot a dry shirt so there I was standing with my half-naked balling child on the side of the road. As I tried to calm him, the 30 cars stopped at the light were now driving past us, and all I could think was that they were thinking I was a bad Mom because I couldn't even put my child in a shirt!
All of that happened in a surprisingly short amount of time, and given a few minutes we were all able to calm our nerves and find the shirtless boy a zip-up hoodie in the van, that I had gratefully been too lazy to clean out before. The adrenaline started wearing off and the body aches started setting in, but we were praising God that no one was seriously injured.
Fellow staff came to wait with us while the officer filed a report and the tow-truck towed our van away. They then dropped us, a little worse for wear, at home, where we lay most of the rest of the day in adrenaline exhaustion. It seems so cliche to say, but the rest of the night I just kept thinking about how quickly bad things can happen and how grateful I was that it was just the van that may not make it.
The other driver was very shaken and apologetic and we had talked a little as we waited for everything to get straightened out. As we parted ways she apologized again and laughing ironically said, "Well, welcome to Wichita!"
Welcome indeed. And, note to self...always dress your family in clothes you won't be ashamed to be stranded on the side of the road in.
There was no time to respond because a line of cars waiting at the red light blocked both Andrew and the other driver's view until she pulled out into us. The airbags deployed and it took a moment for my mind to catch up to what happened.
I'm not gonna lie, I totally freaked out for a second. Andrew was laughing later because he said I went into Mom-mode, yelling at him, "Are you OK? Are you OK? Are you OK?" Of course, I wouldn't have had to repeat myself so much if he had just answered yes, instead of sitting there dazed and confused like he had just been in a car accident. Then I turned and started saying "Are you OK? Are you OK? Are you OK?" to Judah, but my rational brain started catching up and I realized there was no way for a three-year-old who was screaming his terrified little heart out to answer that question. I thought, he's going to respond to you freaking out, so calm down. I went for a more reassuring "You're OK! You're OK! You're OK!"
After my very effective assessment of every one's wellness I thought, you're not supposed to stay in the car if you're in the middle of the street or someone else might hit you, so I swung around and hit the hazards. I looked for my phone to call the police, but couldn't find it. Then I remembered a news story where they warned about any free objects in your car becoming projectiles in an accident and how your phone might fly out of your reach if you need to call 911. If only I had listened to that news story, I thought. But, Andrew had become mobile by this time and was assessing the damage. The other driver had already gotten on her phone with the police, so I jumped out to grab my screaming child and head for the sidewalk. Unfortunately, he had been swimming and we forgot a dry shirt so there I was standing with my half-naked balling child on the side of the road. As I tried to calm him, the 30 cars stopped at the light were now driving past us, and all I could think was that they were thinking I was a bad Mom because I couldn't even put my child in a shirt!
All of that happened in a surprisingly short amount of time, and given a few minutes we were all able to calm our nerves and find the shirtless boy a zip-up hoodie in the van, that I had gratefully been too lazy to clean out before. The adrenaline started wearing off and the body aches started setting in, but we were praising God that no one was seriously injured.
Fellow staff came to wait with us while the officer filed a report and the tow-truck towed our van away. They then dropped us, a little worse for wear, at home, where we lay most of the rest of the day in adrenaline exhaustion. It seems so cliche to say, but the rest of the night I just kept thinking about how quickly bad things can happen and how grateful I was that it was just the van that may not make it.
The other driver was very shaken and apologetic and we had talked a little as we waited for everything to get straightened out. As we parted ways she apologized again and laughing ironically said, "Well, welcome to Wichita!"
Welcome indeed. And, note to self...always dress your family in clothes you won't be ashamed to be stranded on the side of the road in.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Speaking Wichitan
And, while I can't quite bring myself to use the native language, here's what I've learned so far:
Need a soda? (And to get through the day I do!!) Well, you can't get one here. You can, however, get a "pop."
Washing hands and dishes and laundry is no more! Here in Wichita you "warsh!"
You know that thing with two handles that you use to carry things out of a grocery store? It's not grocery bag...it's a "sack."
And, my favorite, people do not eat dinner here in Wichita. They eat "supper" and they eat it REALLY early! Like 5 or 5:30 early. That's more like a second lunch to me!
Monday, September 10, 2012
The Heart of a Boy
I just don't get what makes fart jokes ALWAYS funny, how almost anything can be turned into a weapon, and why it is so important to always ferret out "the bad guy" and pretend to fight him. But, as a mother of a boy (and, let's be real, a wife), this has become my life.
Last week Dr. Don Davis preached a sermon on David and Goliath. It is well worth a listen. Something he said has been percolating in my mind all week: A boy has all the intent of a man, with none of the strength to back it up. What a fragile place to be. It was a tangential statement of sorts, but the implications are stunning.
Too many men emerge from adolescence confused about their purpose in life, and I think this is one reason why. Their boyish hearts have been filled to bursting with all the passion and honor and courage God intended for them, but life, or parents, or their own sin have damaged how they see themselves. God whispered identity and purpose in their hearts early, but their hearts were mishandled and they don't know who they are anymore.
I'm not a mother who worries over nutrition or injuries and such, but I do worry about my son knowing who he is in Christ. How do you handle a boy's heart held in such a fragile place? I have seen men, whose mothers never let them try things and whose fathers always berated their achievements. They emerge from childhood stifled and afraid. They forget that their power is in the Spirit and their eyes drop in shame from the conquest of the horizon.
But I have also seen men whose mothers told them they could do anything they set their minds to and whose fathers channelled all their misapplied intent into their son's talents. When life doesn't align with this self-centered worldview, they become disillusioned by failure, or lost in the pursuit of their talents. They forget that their power is from the Spirit and they see the horizon as their personal conquest.
And some men were never told God's story, that they are part of a mission much bigger than themselves, and they are bored, seeking to fill their warrior-sized intent with self-gratifying distractions.
But David, when he took on Goliath, knew exactly who he was and for what he was made. Mocked for being nothing, he knew everything he needed was in the Lord. He neither dropped his eyes in shame, or claimed the battle for himself. He was on mission for the Lord.
I want to raise a son with the heart of David. I want to build up the intent that God placed within him, let him fail enough that he knows the battle can't be won on his own, and instill in him the wisdom to know when God is calling him to conquer the horizon in His name.
No pressure, Mom.
I know it takes being parents who have hearts like David...mothers and fathers who are clear about their identity in Christ and who have vision to claim the horizon for Christ's name. It requires my son to be grounded in the story of God's great plan to bring the world under His rule and reign and to know God wants to use him as part of this plan. And, it requires his Mama to acknowledge his life as an offering to the Lord, praying not for his safety or success, but for his strong identity in Christ and fearless abandon in the battle of the Lord.
The heart of a boy, if settled in the hands of God, can propel him to conquer giants.
Last week Dr. Don Davis preached a sermon on David and Goliath. It is well worth a listen. Something he said has been percolating in my mind all week: A boy has all the intent of a man, with none of the strength to back it up. What a fragile place to be. It was a tangential statement of sorts, but the implications are stunning.
Too many men emerge from adolescence confused about their purpose in life, and I think this is one reason why. Their boyish hearts have been filled to bursting with all the passion and honor and courage God intended for them, but life, or parents, or their own sin have damaged how they see themselves. God whispered identity and purpose in their hearts early, but their hearts were mishandled and they don't know who they are anymore.
I'm not a mother who worries over nutrition or injuries and such, but I do worry about my son knowing who he is in Christ. How do you handle a boy's heart held in such a fragile place? I have seen men, whose mothers never let them try things and whose fathers always berated their achievements. They emerge from childhood stifled and afraid. They forget that their power is in the Spirit and their eyes drop in shame from the conquest of the horizon.
But I have also seen men whose mothers told them they could do anything they set their minds to and whose fathers channelled all their misapplied intent into their son's talents. When life doesn't align with this self-centered worldview, they become disillusioned by failure, or lost in the pursuit of their talents. They forget that their power is from the Spirit and they see the horizon as their personal conquest.
And some men were never told God's story, that they are part of a mission much bigger than themselves, and they are bored, seeking to fill their warrior-sized intent with self-gratifying distractions.
But David, when he took on Goliath, knew exactly who he was and for what he was made. Mocked for being nothing, he knew everything he needed was in the Lord. He neither dropped his eyes in shame, or claimed the battle for himself. He was on mission for the Lord.
I want to raise a son with the heart of David. I want to build up the intent that God placed within him, let him fail enough that he knows the battle can't be won on his own, and instill in him the wisdom to know when God is calling him to conquer the horizon in His name.
No pressure, Mom.
I know it takes being parents who have hearts like David...mothers and fathers who are clear about their identity in Christ and who have vision to claim the horizon for Christ's name. It requires my son to be grounded in the story of God's great plan to bring the world under His rule and reign and to know God wants to use him as part of this plan. And, it requires his Mama to acknowledge his life as an offering to the Lord, praying not for his safety or success, but for his strong identity in Christ and fearless abandon in the battle of the Lord.
The heart of a boy, if settled in the hands of God, can propel him to conquer giants.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Acceptance
Adoption can be complicated, and, then, sometimes it's not. Since moving to Wichita, I have been thinking a lot about the implications of our adopted, trans-racial family. In St. Louis we were familiar with the particular places in which people would stare at us strangely, and the places in which no one even gave us a second glance. Now I am discovering these places here in Wichita.
Most days I don't think much about it, but, let's face it, adoption (particularly trans-racial adoption) brings with it delicate issues. When I give Little Man a haircut, I worry that I haven't done his hair justice, and I wonder, when we get our first negative comment in public, what I will say. When people ask, "Is that your son?", how do I respond so that he feels secure?
Last night we had a talk with our son about another delicate topic--birth parents. He has met them both, but was too young to remember. We have had other little conversations with him over the past year, but with his adoption we received pictures of his birth father and mother. The pictures aren't the best quality of photos, so I worked hard to doctor them up, trying to make them look as special as they actually are. Before bedtime, all three of us curled up on the couch to read My New Family (a great children's book about adoption, if you're looking for one), and to show him the pictures of his birth parents for the first time.
I was a little nervous. I mean, how do you share something so important and complicated with a three-year-old? We want to be as open as we can with him about his birth parents, help him honor them, and support any of his future questions, but we haven't been through this before, and feel like we're making up the words as we go along. Gratefully, the book gives a great outline to help tell your family's story. After we read the book and told his story he excitedly put the photo of his birth parents in a special place. I felt the weight of the conversation as I looked at their faces. He smiled and then turned and said, "Can you fix my tent now?" Such sweet and simple acceptance.
I know that these conversations will get more complicated as he grows older and he will wrestle more with his feelings, but for now, he accepts his history in the context of his simple faith in Mama and Daddy. And, one day, I pray he accepts the storms of life with a deeper faith that keeps him grounded in the knowledge of His heavenly Father.
Most days I don't think much about it, but, let's face it, adoption (particularly trans-racial adoption) brings with it delicate issues. When I give Little Man a haircut, I worry that I haven't done his hair justice, and I wonder, when we get our first negative comment in public, what I will say. When people ask, "Is that your son?", how do I respond so that he feels secure?
Last night we had a talk with our son about another delicate topic--birth parents. He has met them both, but was too young to remember. We have had other little conversations with him over the past year, but with his adoption we received pictures of his birth father and mother. The pictures aren't the best quality of photos, so I worked hard to doctor them up, trying to make them look as special as they actually are. Before bedtime, all three of us curled up on the couch to read My New Family (a great children's book about adoption, if you're looking for one), and to show him the pictures of his birth parents for the first time.
I was a little nervous. I mean, how do you share something so important and complicated with a three-year-old? We want to be as open as we can with him about his birth parents, help him honor them, and support any of his future questions, but we haven't been through this before, and feel like we're making up the words as we go along. Gratefully, the book gives a great outline to help tell your family's story. After we read the book and told his story he excitedly put the photo of his birth parents in a special place. I felt the weight of the conversation as I looked at their faces. He smiled and then turned and said, "Can you fix my tent now?" Such sweet and simple acceptance.
I know that these conversations will get more complicated as he grows older and he will wrestle more with his feelings, but for now, he accepts his history in the context of his simple faith in Mama and Daddy. And, one day, I pray he accepts the storms of life with a deeper faith that keeps him grounded in the knowledge of His heavenly Father.
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