Yesterday we enjoyed springtime and sunny weather! Talitha said to her sisters, "Lets go outside and smell ALL the flowers...we can't leave a single one unsmelled!" It's been many years since we've experienced spring and many years longer since I've had spring in the south. It truly is glorious.
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As we're settling in for a longer haul with the global pandemic, my thoughts this morning turned to all sorts of projects I want to get done around the house. I have furniture that I've been wanting to give a chalk paint facelift to, an attic that needs sorting through, a few more closets to clean out, and a room full of stuff ready for a yard-sale to organize and price.
This morning, as I was giving the kids my list of opportunities to not be bored, I said, "Let's be sure to not waste this time we've been given!" And then I started to mull over the fact that there are many ways we as believers could waste this pandemic. We could waste it by not remembering our frailty. When people around us are dying, it is good to remember that "as for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more." (Psalm 103). We are weak and helpless in ourselves. Covid-19 is just another reminder. But a student of death is also student of life. A good student will ask "how can I live today in light of the fact that I will soon die?" We could waste it by not remembering Christ. When we see our frailty, the precious thought should quickly follow that "He knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust." (Psalm 103) We don't need to despair that we are dust, for Christ knows that we are. He knows that we are powerless to save ourselves, so he saves us himself. He knows that from dust we were created and to dust we will return, so he died, was laid in a dust-filled tomb, and then conquered the dust by rising again. It is that death-defying power that holds our hearts during this time of global uncertainty and he will hold us to the end. We could waste it by living in fear. In all our dust-iness, we can remember how valuable we are. "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows." (Matthew 10) Oh, how the Lord loves us so. We are precious and valuable in his eyes. In love, he will not leave us. If there is one thing that I have learned this past year, it is that when God takes away, he replaces whatever he takes with himself, and it is such a good trade. We really really don't need to fear. Even if we experience loss through Covid-19, God will fill us with himself and provide for everything we need. We could waste it by not resting and being refreshed. We live such a hurried life. It consumes us at times. Our culture is chronically fatigued and often content to run on empty. Social distancing is giving us a time to be refreshed. More time in prayer, more time to cherish our families, more time to read, more time to do some of those projects that will help clear space in our homes and in our heads. Time for creativity, extra naps, longer meals. Let's embrace it and be thankful for it. We could waste it by not praying for our missionaries. Yes, my heart is heavy for dear friends around the world. Many of them have made a hard choice to stay put despite borders closing. In Uganda, as of last night, no more planes are going in or out for people. Those that made the choice to stay there, are there for the long haul. As tension increases, so could riots. If riots increase, the government might possibly shut down social media (as they often do during elections). While they may not be in immediate danger now, this kind of isolation adds a whole new level of stress to the work they are doing. We need to pray for their hearts and their protection as they continue in their work. And maybe an email or care package might be in order! ;-) We could waste it by not remembering those who are struggling more than we are. My heart is heavy for other parts of the world. Where we lived in Uganda, social distancing is nearly impossible. For most people, daily trips to the market are a must since they don't have refridgeration. Soap to wash hands costs money that many don't have. They share latrines and boreholes with all the neighbors. In the slums, the houses are built almost on top of each other. If Covid-19 hits, it's going to hit hard. On top of that, they are at the tail end of hunger season. The rains have returned, but they are waiting for their crops to grow so they can have food again. But they are also experiencing plagues of locusts in some areas. Seriously, Walmart being out of toilet paper is of very little significance in light of their life. We need to be remembering them and praying for them. How else are you not wasting this time? What has God been teaching you through Covid-19? During this time of social distancing, I would love to hear from you in the comments! Ellizabeth Elliot once said, "In acceptance lieth peace." I've been pondering that quote lately. Aren't we all on a constant quest for more peace? Trauma brings continual temptations to freeze-up, run away or fight. The quest for peace can feel nearly impossible at times. Because really, how does one begin to accept the unacceptable? The sin, the shame, the pain: no one of God's daughters should ever have to face that. But here I am. Whether I like it or not, the unacceptable came. As I've pondered what it means to accept, I've come across three truths. I need to accept the dark providence that God has brought. The unacceptable is a whole lot easier to accept when I acknowledge that it too, is from the hand of God. God's sovereignty runs deep. Everything is completely under his control...the good, the bad, and the ugly. If I say that this trial is not from God, then God has no power to stop it and if God has no power to stop it, then God ceases to be God. If I'm on a quest for peace, that would be a complete dead end. So, I trust the loving hand of my father God and accept what he has brought. I may not ever understand it on this side of eternity, but God's sovereignty, even in dark providences, remains a soft pillow to lay my weary head on. I need to accept the instability that continues. Trauma brings so much instability. Life becomes completely unpredictable. That instability can last a very long time. Instability piled on pain can feel like constant tectonic tremors that leave you expecting another big earthquake. And you constantly have in the back of your head the question of whether or not you'd actually survive the next big one. I'm a gal that really likes my day in and day out routine. But that is clearly not the kind of life God has called me to for this season. I continue to press in to the instability, accept it and try to roll with it, knowing I'm gripped by God's grace. I need to accept the time to rest in the particularly close shelter of the Most High. There were times in Uganda where I would take a boda (motorcycle taxi) to town, only to get caught out in a true African down pour. When it rains in Uganda, everyone immediately takes shelter and waits it out. The Ugandans are usually all chill under the shelters, laughing and talking and enjoying themselves, no thought given to the time. But inevitably my American self would be pacing on the inside: ready for the rain to stop so that I could go about and do what I wanted to get done. And as the rain slowed to a drizzle, I may or may not have, on more than one occassion, tried to convince a boda driver to get going: "oh Sebo, the rain is only small, small. Please, can we go?" (and I was usually responded to with, "oh mama, the rain is still falling" or a request for a higher fare. haha!) I was thankful for the shelter, but I was ready to get on with life. And so it is now. I am in a particularly close shelter. When a Christian goes through a deep trial, God pulls her in more than normal. As Christians, we always abide in God's shelter. But during such raging storms? The shelter becomes particular and full. This is God's grace to suffering believers. And I am so thankful to be in God's close shelter because I know I'm safe, cared for, and loved, but at the same time part of me still fights back: I don't want to be in this shelter because it means the rain is still falling and the war is still raging and hurt still comes. Acceptance means being content with the storms raging and letting God keep me in his close shelter for as long he wants. I'm learning to accept this season and the grace that it brings. So there it is. Three things to accept when the unacceptable comes: dark providences, instability and the continuing need to stay in God's close shelter. Rather than freezing, fleeing or fighting while experiencing trauma, we can focus on what we can accept. Then even the painful stories can become more fully a part of the one Great Story and we can find peace to rest in. These were Benaiah's ducklings in Uganda who reminded us, while we watched them grow, to rest deeply in God's care. Despite all the threats to their fluffy little lives from dogs, cats, snakes and rats, they waddled around without a care in the world.
Timothy, who is working towards a degree in Robotic Engineering, recently helped Talitha to make a robot. She was SO thrilled. She got to attach the wires and help to program it. And she had us all in stitches because she played with her robot (That she named Zobo) as if it was another one of her pets. All day we heard things like, "oh Zobo, you are just so cute!" and "Come on Zobo, let's go play in the kitchen!" and when she ran Zobo into our feet? "Aww....Zobo wants to give you a hug!! Isn't he just so sweet?"
Timothy was pretty thrilled that his little sister wanted to do some STEM with him. Katelyn, my future English or History major, may have been overheard at dinner that night saying, "Talitha, instead of building a robot, why don't I teach you how to write a story?" And so the friendly sibling rivalry goes on... We have been crazy busy this past week unpacking because our container came from Uganda! We are so so thankful to have all of our worldly belongings back. We only had about 24 hours after we realized that we would not be back to Uganda any time soon before we left Mbale. Since emotions were running high, we weren't even really thinking well. We moved a few things around, threw in our photo albums, but otherwise we took what we had in our suitcases and left. Nothing in the house was packed up and honestly, I wasn't even sure if we'd ever see our things again. This container has surely been God's grace to us: a sure sign that he cares for us tenderly and meets us in our weakness. This past week has been yet another week of being content to live in paradox. We are so thrilled to have our things, but grieving heavily again, as the Uganda chapter of our lives is officially at an end. We're left with memories in our heart and quite a bit of African dust on our books. I am so grateful to our team for doing the hard work of packing up someone else's belongings and organizing for and packing the container. I'm also thankful to the head office of the Orthodox Presbyterian Church for their kindness to us in shipping the container. We have been loved so well by so many people. Seven years ago, we got an empty container delivered to our house in Oregon, to pack up our lives and take them to Uganda. The kids were so excited about the adventure that awaited them. I thought they were so brave! Now we're back. Those same kids are facing a whole new adventure. Now, I know that they are incredibly brave. It takes so much courage to walk the path they've walked and hold on to joy and hope like they have. I'm more proud of them now than I ever have been before. Please keep praying for us as we continue to walk through so many adjustments. The latest adjustment is that I have moved from working part-time at our Christian school to full-time. I'm so very thankful for the work, and I'm thankful that God has eased us slowly from the "homeschool mom" life to the "working mom" life. The three littles are doing well in school. The four middle ones that are still homeschooling are able to come to school with us and do their schoolwork from there. It has been so wonderful to be able to connect multiple times during the day. The oldest ones that are doing dual enrollement have their own crazy typical college schedules that they are enjoying for the most part. God continues to guide us one step at a time. I have had to force myself not to think too much on the future as I get too overwhelmed, but when I see how God has taken such amazing care of us thus far, I know he will around the corner too.
"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls."
--I Peter 1: 3-9 Hope. Peter understands hope. After greeting the elect exiles, hope is the first thing Peter wants to talk about. Perhaps Peter has such a grasp on hope because he knows what it is like to fail, to be restored, to suffer, and to live knowing that more suffering is coming. He has seen the beauty that God can bring from the mess we humans tend to make. He has experienced a great mercy and that experience has done the work it should: it's taken his eyes off of the immediate and placed them on the eternal. And hope has come rushing in. Peter's hope is a living hope. When Christ conquered death, he declared that life is found in him. Hope is alive because Christ is alive. Our hope also makes us more alive. Like the air we breathe, hope fills our being and nourishes us. It clears our mind and expands the boundaries of our hearts. Peter's hope is a future hope. So much of life on earth consists of things and experiences that perish, defile and fade. The constant dying hurts. The defilement leaves us broken. The fading of things we once saw as beautiful makes us wonder "what was the point?" But oh, heaven is coming and soon the perishable will become imperishable, the defiled will be made pure, the faded will be restored to perfect beauty. We aren't there yet, but we know it's just around the corner. Hope will be made manifest, and it won't be long. Peter's hope is a powerful hope. Peter knew what it meant for life to fall apart. Christ had told him to stay awake in the garden and he had failed. Then things went downhill from there. The arrest, the prophesied denial, the crucifixion, the falling apart of all that he thought was. But yet, there was the guarding, powerful hand of God. Peter's hope failed in those hours, but did eternal hope? No, God was right there keeping Peter, guarding his soul, letting him fail only enough for him to put his hope where it should be. God was orchestrating a powerful salvation that would open the doors for that same power to be planted deeply in the hearts of his children made of dust. Peter's hope is a rejoicing hope. The Christian life doesn't involve pasting a smile on and appearing happy. Christians face real trials; we were never promised an easy path to walk. A day is coming when joy will require no effort because sin will be no more. But we aren't there yet. Today is full of hard, sometimes it is crushingly hard to the point that you labor to take the next step. But we can have joy, because we know the end of the story. We know that Christ will win and we will reign with him forever. And further, even our immediate struggles are being redeemed and are given gold-like value. Nothing is wasted in God's economy. Believing that moves us way beyond a pasted on smile straight into a deep hope-filled joy. This living, future, powerful, rejoicing hope of Peter's is ours too and because of it we can praise and glorify the Hope-Giver. When other persons fail us and only manage to contribute to the perishable, defiled, and fading, we can, with the eyes of faith, look beyond and see that the person of Christ is not like that. And, when, like Peter, I fail and only manage to contribute to the perishable, defiled and fading, I can still look to the person of Christ and know that he is not like me. Unlike the naturally loveless and trust-less hearts of mankind, Christ loves and loves well. And we can earnestly love him in return and trust him to keep us and keep us well. This truly is the outcome of our faith and the salvation of our souls. "Peter, an apostle of Jesus Christ,
To those who are elect exiles of the Dispersion in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia, 2 according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, in the sanctification of the Spirit, for obedience to Jesus Christ and for sprinkling with his blood: May grace and peace be multiplied to you." --I Peter 1:1-3 When we were suddenly displaced from our home in Uganda and we moved back to our passport country, we were keenly aware that we weren’t home. It still causes wonder in my heart to ponder how much we feel displaced. We’re living in the house I grew up in. The other day, I even absentmindedly walked into my childhood bedroom when I was intending to go to my room! I keep telling myself that it seems like it should be easier to make this space home. But realistically, it’s going to take a while. But I’m thankful for this time. It’s a gift to feel like an exile for a bit. Our immediate exile has become a sharp reminder of our Christ-following exile. We just went through Peter’s letters for family devotions. The wonder of trials is that so much of Scripture washes over my soul in fresh ways. Being pressed in by the world helps press out new insights…so many things that I would have never noticed if it weren’t for the new eyesight that the hard has brought. What I saw the other night was this: Peter wrote to the elect exiles: people who weren’t at home where they lived. Peter’s exiles did have a home, it just wasn’t in Asia Minor. They had a heavenly residence that wasn’t theirs…yet. The hope for us is that, because of Christ, we’re on the same path as Peter’s exiles. Their comfort is our comfort as we travel, and the comfort is this: the path we’re on is directed according to the foreknowledge of God the Father. Yup. God ordained this journey of ours. It’s not merely the choices of others that put us on this path, ultimately it was the choice of my heavenly Father. Why would he do that to us? So we could be sanctified, or made ready for our new home. So we would learn obedience to our Savior, and so we could glory in the Christ’s work on the cross that makes us ready to reach heaven. Every step of this past year has been under the foreknowledge of God the Father. Every step has been for our sanctification in the Spirit. Every step has brought greater obedience to Christ. And every step has brought more glory to Christ’s finished work on the cross as we have been continually made more fit for heaven. As much as we don’t always like feeling our “home-lessness,” when it gets down to it, it’s been a stimulus for grace and peace being multiplied to us. And for that, I think we will remain continually thankful as we live out our days as exiles and, all the more, as we move to our real home for all of eternity. Some mornings I still wake up angry. I never quite know how much is righteous and how much isn't, so I prefer to put it all to death through prayer. I continually pray for protection from bitterness settling in as a squatter. I don't want to wake up five years from now and have bitterness claiming squatters rights in my heart, so I aim to push him out every time I see him. This morning these unwelcomed guests came rolling in with full force.
"How can one man make choices knowing how profoundly they would detroy the one he claimed to love?" Bitterness tries to lay a rough blanket down. Anger sets his luggage in the corner. "Oh God, he's destroyed my life." "No," speaks the tender Father, as he picks up the blanket and luggage to push them back out. "Only I have that power. No man does." "But I don't like this story! It's awful!" "It's not a story, it's merely a chapter" He reminds me, as the soft, tender comfort of the Holy Spirit is spread out on the table with his beautiful china and soothing tea. "Your story isn't finished. This chapter is a dark and terrible one, but it won't define the book. I'm the one writing the book. I'm the one that writes the ending. I'm the one that decides what kind of story this is. Only I have that power. It's not his to take. Trust me." And so, in the light of His power, Bitterness gets up to leave and takes Anger with him. I am suddenly once more aware of another familiar guest at the table. It is Grief. But Grief will remain as a welcome guest at the Holy Spirit's table until she decides on her own to leave. I know that she won't claim squatters rights. While she will probably stay for a few more nights, one morning I'll wake up and at her place will be joy. The story maker has promised. "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." Psalm 30:5 Otherwise titled: picture proof that we were loved by God, friends and family this season. Holidays are hard when you are going through a valley. But this season, we clearly saw how God was loving us. In fact, the impression that comes to mind is, "our holidays were perfect." No, not because we were always happy or we had a hallmark Christmas where our story suddenly had a happy surprise ending. It was "perfect" because a perfect God took perfect care of us and gave us exactly what we needed for our hearts. Christmas brought the K family and we were able to rekindle an old friendship. I put most of the pictures on our previous blog, but here are a few more: For New Years, we drove to North Carolina to spend New Years with family and friends there. The boys went to their cousins' house and the girls (my own and the cousins) came with me to their Grandparents' house. The little girls were so excited to have a sleep over with Auntie Dianna. So many giggles... This little girl didn't think 6:30 AM was too early to read me jokes from a joke book. For New Years Eve, all the big kids ended up at Auntie Neen's for the evening. God chose to take care of my heart for the evening. Dad and Mom and I had great intentions of going to bed early, but then we started talking. We spent the last hours of 2019 grieving and praying...praying for God's grace and for a better 2020. Before we knew it, it was midnight and we were still awake, so we pulled out the cheese and crackers. It was perfect and it was just the New Years Eve that I needed. The next day we all ended up at Auntie Neen's for Olliebollen and lots of yummy food. And I may have gotten some baby holding in... I wasn't the only one with a sleepy baby... I also took some pictures of the girls. They are a blast! On our way home we stopped in to see our former teammates. It was a sweet reunion.
It's been my tradition for several years now to choose a new word to dwell on in the new year. Last year, my word was perseverence. I totally thought when I chose the word, that I would need to persevere with my health and with working in a difficult mission field. I had read in a book that the Chinese characters for perseverence were two: one of a man walking and another of a knife through a heart. Together they encapsulate the idea that perseverence is learning to walk with a knife through your heart.
I had no idea. I had no idea how hard the walk would be. I had no idea how sharp the knife would pierce. In January, 2019, I had no idea how much the blow that I was about to recieve would cut, hurt, and nearly kill me. Nor did I know how I would have to stand up and press on, not just for one day or one week, but for month after month after month. I also had very little idea of what it felt like to have God's love and strength carry my wounded self. In January of 2019, I didn't know how God would hem me in, lift me up and give me all that I needed to keep walking. I didn't see how He alone would be the one who would stablize the knife so that it would stop twisting and he is the one who would pour a soothing balm on my wounds. I didn't understand how, as the comfort and intimacy of an earthly companion left me, I would begin to experience an intimacy and comfort from the Lord I had never known before. This year, I have chosen the word hope. I think I've used it before, but I'm okay with that. (My tradition, my rules. Right?) What has been impressed upon me in recent weeks, is that when one is struggling to persevere, hope is an absolute neccesity. The Disney beauty sings, "How in the midst of so much sorrow, can so much hope and love endure?" It's not through the love of man. Humans fail. 2020 doesn't hold any different hope for sinful humanity than 2019 did. Hope, when you are struggling to persevere, is still only found in the person and work of Jesus Christ. My walk is still painful, the knife is still there. But Christ is there to grasp hold of and to cling to. I'm aiming to move forward this year with with that hope in mind. |
Behold, I am doing a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. Isaiah 43:19 Archives
August 2020
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