I logged on tonight to write a little, only to see that my last post was about... grieving. Well, here we go again. It's a night for tears and eating chocolate and peanut butter for dinner because nothing else sounds remotely good (and Joel is working), and grief.
About a month ago this time I was grieving my grandpa's passing, and most of all the "not knowing" of where he stood with God. That seems like months ago now, at least.
Last weekend we found out that one of J's best friends from college had lost his wife, very suddenly. Once again, time is doing funny things-- I glanced tonight at my Facebook post from last weekend, saw the date, and thought, "was that less than a week ago??" Grief somehow seems to suspend the rules of normal life, and I am just... disoriented.
I never even met Jenny, but still, tears have ran down my face more times than I can count this week. I have cried while writing papers, cooking dinner, trying to get through the terribly long and exhausting days that have lately been my life. Jenny was "one of us," our age, our generation. Not someone who was supposed to die. I think of the last time I saw Matt (her husband), at J's fraternity reunion in the spring. We talked about the adoption they hoped would come through any day, about how a sea change in their eating habits had left them both feeling so much healthier, and Jenny had dropped a lot of medications. I knew she was sick, a serious congenital condition since childhood. I had no idea she might die.
They did adopt, a little girl from Russia named Sasha. On Matt's Facebook there are pictures of her and Jenny making cookies, of Sasha playing the piano, swinging her head like Stevie Wonder. Sasha is two. She's only been with them a few months. And now she's lost a second mommy.
This has hit us hard, and there is no other way to say it except that it has been hard. Of course our grief is small compared to the grief of those who were closest to her, and I can't even imagine getting up in the morning as a 34-year old widower and single dad. The fact that Matt does and still manages to testify about God's goodness is an amazing, well... testimony to the mighty arms of God. J is going to go out next weekend just to be with him. We all have those kind of friends-- the ones we would do anything for. I guess in times like this you find out what a friendship is worth.
J said a few days ago that Jenny was never supposed to live past childhood, and it got me thinking. She's had an extra two decades of life, and from what I can see lived pretty happily and normally. I'm sure knowing she was never supposed to make it this long isn't much comfort to Matt in the midst of his grief. But I couldn't help thinking, How wonderful. How wonderful that she got to live a full life, get married, have people who loved her, and have a child.
The fact that they became parents only months before she died seems like one of the craziest, most improbable, but yet somehow most right parts of the story. When I first knew J he would mention that he didn't think they would have kids (Jenny's health being one reason). Then they seemed to experience a sudden, joint, radical conviction from God that they were called to be parents, and called to adopt. I remember crying reading Matt's explanation of it in a lengthy Facebook note. God was clearly doing something.
And less than 4 months after they finally got their child, Matt is a single dad and Sasha is an orphan for the second time. I can't imagine that they will have an easy road. I also can't imagine that this wasn't part of God's awesome, inscrutable plan. I'm not sure Matt would have been able to adopt as a single dad. But God allowed Jenny to live long enough to be a mom, and gave Matt a family for after Jenny was gone, and I'm sure that Sasha needed a dad.
Any time I hear about someone's death it's a little wake-up call to treasure my days, and to be grateful. At the African-American church we visited a few weeks ago they must have belted from the pulpit half a dozen times how BLESSED we all were to get UP this morning because MANY PEOPLE did NOT get up this morning. But thank you LORD that you gave us another DAY of LIFE. (Hallelujah, brother.) It reminded me of Africa, and kind of made me laugh, because I'm not used to that kind of drama and thanksgiving over the fact that I got out of bed. But they're right. We are incredibly blessed for about a hundred million reasons, not least that God has graciously granted us another day of life.
And Jenny was blessed. Blessed to live 37 years, far more than she was supposed to get. Without denying the tragedy of her death, it's such a different perspective to turn the tables, and consider what she was never supposed to get, rather than what was taken away. If I can get away from the feeling that I am owed this, that, or the other thing, and turn the tables on my life to ask what I never deserved to get... the list is so long. Even the stuff that 99.99% of the human race gets... God didn't have to. It's all a gift.
I heard something today from my advisor that made me realize how darn lucky I was to get the dream scholarship I got at Johns Hopkins. I know it wasn't luck, but really, I felt today more than ever today that I'd won the lottery. (Okay, the odds were a bit better than the lottery, but not much.) And it feels almost that random. The point is just that it's all a gift, and I was chosen for some totally random and undeserving reason, and everything I get in life falls pretty much into the same category. And when I don't like what's on my plate on a particular day, when it's bitter and distasteful, I want to learn the kind of gratitude that can thank God even for those gifts.
Tonight I went to Matt's Facebook and found this in a note, written by Jenny, after a particularly hard day with a traumatized 2-year old who she couldn't really even communicate with (they'd only had Sasha about 6 weeks):
As I tried to separate myself from the day and refocus I found myself asking why: why did we choose to do this and why did we give up the the lifestyle we had before? As if someone sitting next to me blurted it out, the answer came back loud and clear. We did not choose to change our life. We chose to be obedient to what God was calling us to do. God never promised an easy life to those who serve Him.
Words to live by.
Showing posts with label thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thoughts. Show all posts
Friday, September 24, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
grieving
I guess there are two ways to think of it: we are either dying from the day we are born, or we are moving towards a passage into the real life, the real home, the real place for which we were created... for those of us who have said "yes" to the invitation, at least.
As I see my skin start to sag and wrinkle and realize that my body is aging and in some ways it's all downhill from here... I try to keep the perspective that everything here is just a prelude, anyway, to the real story. Who cares what happens here, except that it's getting us ready for there? The point isn't to stay young forever, the point is to measure our days and live them so that they mean something for eternity.
And I try to keep the perspective that it's okay to let the people we love go, and it's really just a short separation, a blink of an eye in the grand scheme of things. We weren't made to stay here forever, and like Paul, we should rejoice when it's time to go. What a joyful thing when a soul gets to shed an old and sick body and put on immortality.
But yet when I hear my beloved grandma has shrunk to 100 lbs and opted for palliative care, and that my dear grandpa is struggling to breath in a body that is about to shut down, all I can do is close my office door, sit at my desk, and weep. It's just so hard in the now.
We are still in lovely Zimbabwe... lots to write about but haven't had time. Hard to believe that our time here in Africa is nearly at a close. But I'm feeling ready to go... things have their seasons. And I want to be home.
As I see my skin start to sag and wrinkle and realize that my body is aging and in some ways it's all downhill from here... I try to keep the perspective that everything here is just a prelude, anyway, to the real story. Who cares what happens here, except that it's getting us ready for there? The point isn't to stay young forever, the point is to measure our days and live them so that they mean something for eternity.
And I try to keep the perspective that it's okay to let the people we love go, and it's really just a short separation, a blink of an eye in the grand scheme of things. We weren't made to stay here forever, and like Paul, we should rejoice when it's time to go. What a joyful thing when a soul gets to shed an old and sick body and put on immortality.
But yet when I hear my beloved grandma has shrunk to 100 lbs and opted for palliative care, and that my dear grandpa is struggling to breath in a body that is about to shut down, all I can do is close my office door, sit at my desk, and weep. It's just so hard in the now.
We are still in lovely Zimbabwe... lots to write about but haven't had time. Hard to believe that our time here in Africa is nearly at a close. But I'm feeling ready to go... things have their seasons. And I want to be home.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Sunday morning in Nigeria
I was hoping that today would be a day of rest, but instead I think it is going to be a day of pretty non-stop work. Yesterday was a frustrating day in which I spent many hours on a tedious task I wasn't expecting to spend many hours on, and then several more hours on a presentation for Monday that somehow I managed to not save. I am still baffled. But I have to re-do it. And my plan of spending a bit of time at the pool (a little play in all this work) is rather de-railed by the sheets of rain coming down outside anyway. Oh well.
It's been a season of overwhelming work loads, tears and good-byes (both to MA friends and to my dear grandma, who I may or may not have more visits with here on earth), and really struggling to trust God with our circumstances. We are once again in a situation where it seems like nearly everything is up in the air. Where will we be living in 2 months, where will J be working, where will we worship and serve in Baltimore? We have no idea. The plan I thought we had for the summer has changed and changed again. My departure to Nigeria for this stint was changed at least half a dozen times (causing J's ticket and all sorts of other things to be rescheduled multiple times), and the several weeks I was slated to spend here in Nigeria in July now may not happen. If there is one thing I am learning it is not to trust World Bank projects to stick to a schedule, but in the meantime, the uncertainty over my work commitments leaves our lives in quite a bit of limbo.
I know we will be in Abu Dhabi from June 10-15 and at a beach house in Kenya from June 16-23. Then we hope to go to Uganda. Beyond that we have no firm plans at this point. Last night I was sleepless, trying to see where frequent flier miles might take us and where we might occupy ourselves if I am not on a World Bank mission in July. I know deep down it will work out, but I struggle not to fret.
Yesterday while waiting to check into a hotel I read an advice column in a local newspaper, written by a young single woman who seemed to be a Christian, and it went about like this: God only gives perfect gifts, so we need describe to him in great detail the things we want, and we will get them. My friend spent months visualizing the baby she wanted to have, down to the shape of his fingernails, and she got it! Now I am doing the same thing about my future husband [insert list of ideal husband qualities that included wealthy, handsome, terribly romantic, you get the idea]. We can "mould" our futures. God only wants to give us perfect things, after all.
Of course such a view of God is totally false. Anyone who holds God to giving them "perfect" gifts according to their definition and timetable is going to lose their faith in God pretty fast. And they will miss out on the joy of letting God give His perfect gifts, which of course may feel uncomfortable, painful, or and very unwanted at the time. I think of my first two years of marriage, a time of a serious loss of health and financial stability. I think the lesson for me in that was to recognize that God had the right to take those things away, and also to see the blessings that came out of suffering. God of course views things in a completely different plane than we do-- the plane of eternity, where the goal is that our lives bring maximum glory to Him, and life to others in an eternal sense, and that we learn to embrace eternal riches and store up our treasure there. So we should be willing to let all sorts of security, comfort, and earthly stuff be stripped away here in order to gain what has eternal value, right?
And yet in the rubber-hits-the-road of right now, I am struggling to trust God. To believe that He is the good God he says he is. That if he totally rearranges our summer that there is a good reason. That even if parts of my long-held dream of a fun summer in Africa fall away (as actually, they already have), it's okay. That God knows our every step between now and wherever and whenever we land under our new roof in Baltimore.
I found myself in Psalm 37 this morning, and what stuck out was the simple commands: a great recipe for peace, trust, and joy in any circumstances. The whole Psalm is about God's care for his people, and it's easy to focus on the "he will give you the desires of your heart" passages. But this morning what I feel desperate for is not any particular desire, but the freedom of wholeheartedly trusting, delighting in God, committing my way, and being still.
3 Trust in the LORD and do good;
dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.
It's been a season of overwhelming work loads, tears and good-byes (both to MA friends and to my dear grandma, who I may or may not have more visits with here on earth), and really struggling to trust God with our circumstances. We are once again in a situation where it seems like nearly everything is up in the air. Where will we be living in 2 months, where will J be working, where will we worship and serve in Baltimore? We have no idea. The plan I thought we had for the summer has changed and changed again. My departure to Nigeria for this stint was changed at least half a dozen times (causing J's ticket and all sorts of other things to be rescheduled multiple times), and the several weeks I was slated to spend here in Nigeria in July now may not happen. If there is one thing I am learning it is not to trust World Bank projects to stick to a schedule, but in the meantime, the uncertainty over my work commitments leaves our lives in quite a bit of limbo.
I know we will be in Abu Dhabi from June 10-15 and at a beach house in Kenya from June 16-23. Then we hope to go to Uganda. Beyond that we have no firm plans at this point. Last night I was sleepless, trying to see where frequent flier miles might take us and where we might occupy ourselves if I am not on a World Bank mission in July. I know deep down it will work out, but I struggle not to fret.
Yesterday while waiting to check into a hotel I read an advice column in a local newspaper, written by a young single woman who seemed to be a Christian, and it went about like this: God only gives perfect gifts, so we need describe to him in great detail the things we want, and we will get them. My friend spent months visualizing the baby she wanted to have, down to the shape of his fingernails, and she got it! Now I am doing the same thing about my future husband [insert list of ideal husband qualities that included wealthy, handsome, terribly romantic, you get the idea]. We can "mould" our futures. God only wants to give us perfect things, after all.
Of course such a view of God is totally false. Anyone who holds God to giving them "perfect" gifts according to their definition and timetable is going to lose their faith in God pretty fast. And they will miss out on the joy of letting God give His perfect gifts, which of course may feel uncomfortable, painful, or and very unwanted at the time. I think of my first two years of marriage, a time of a serious loss of health and financial stability. I think the lesson for me in that was to recognize that God had the right to take those things away, and also to see the blessings that came out of suffering. God of course views things in a completely different plane than we do-- the plane of eternity, where the goal is that our lives bring maximum glory to Him, and life to others in an eternal sense, and that we learn to embrace eternal riches and store up our treasure there. So we should be willing to let all sorts of security, comfort, and earthly stuff be stripped away here in order to gain what has eternal value, right?
And yet in the rubber-hits-the-road of right now, I am struggling to trust God. To believe that He is the good God he says he is. That if he totally rearranges our summer that there is a good reason. That even if parts of my long-held dream of a fun summer in Africa fall away (as actually, they already have), it's okay. That God knows our every step between now and wherever and whenever we land under our new roof in Baltimore.
I found myself in Psalm 37 this morning, and what stuck out was the simple commands: a great recipe for peace, trust, and joy in any circumstances. The whole Psalm is about God's care for his people, and it's easy to focus on the "he will give you the desires of your heart" passages. But this morning what I feel desperate for is not any particular desire, but the freedom of wholeheartedly trusting, delighting in God, committing my way, and being still.
3 Trust in the LORD and do good;
dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.
4 Delight yourself in the LORD
and he will give you the desires of your heart.
5 Commit your way to the LORD;
trust in him and he will do this:
6 He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn,
the justice of your cause like the noonday sun.
7 Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him;
do not fret when men succeed in their ways,
when they carry out their wicked schemes.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
what we have been given
Tonight I made bread with a Nigerian friend. I was actually supposed to be in Nigeria this week, but my trip there has been rescheduled so many times I have lost count. Now I may be going next Wed or I may not be going at all (this month). I have already rescheduled J's ticket and our beach house in Kenya twice, and am not doing it again-- so if my indecisive employer pushes the trip any later I just won't go this month, and J and I will get onto a plane together for Dubai on June 9.
Ah, uncertainty! Add to that the fact that my house is covered in a sea of boxes (we have to be out by Monday, after that we'll be homeless for a little while)... and the fact that my dear grandma is fighting a vicious cancer and that my next few months are filled with stacks of question marks, from where exactly we are going to be when this summer to where we'll be living when we return (the particular address in Baltimore)... life feels very up in the air. James 4 hits home again.
But back to the bread. I first met my Nigerian friend last fall at a women's retreat and then ran into her a couple months ago while out walking with J and remembered that I had wanted to get to know her this year, and then it took me til last weekend to actually get J and I together with her and her husband for dinner. J asked a very insightful question about what their highs and lows from their time in the US had been, and of course for both of them the lows were that Americans are so busy and bad at forming relationships (my words, they were a little more diplomatic)... and so of course they have felt so lonely and isolated here. I could have wept at the missed opportunity to be great friends with them all year. (They are totally fantastic people.) But no, I was an American all year.
I had brought homemade bread to dinner and Grace (my friend) nearly begged me to teach her to make it. Of course we are moving and I am trying to finish the final changes to our book MS and may or may not be going to Nigeria any time... but I felt like I really had to make time for some bread making this week. So this morning I went down to her place and we mixed it and tonight I went back to help her shape and bake it. And resisted the urge to rush home while it did the final rise, and baked. Instead, we sat and talked. I am so glad I did.
So many things have me thinking and so many things have me feeling utterly humbled. Like that Grace and her husband and two kids will be moving to Fort Worth, TX (for her husband to do a PhD at Southwestern Seminary), carrying what they can fit into their minivan. Meanwhile I am struggling for weeks to get all my stuff packed up and totally miserable with all the work of packing and wondering if it will fit into the storage unit and fit into the 16-foot moving van. And feeling virtuous because my couch is old and I hate it. I mean, it's not like all my stuff is shiny and new. Even if I do all by myself have enough stuff to outfit an entire African village. (I can't blame J the Minimalist, it is really my stuff that is creating the stuff problem.)
We also talked about the hardness of heart of the American church, how we delude ourselves into thinking that we are so poor and have nothing to give when we are so rich, rich, rich. These are my words; Grace is mostly just baffled by it. She and Zachs really need support; they are going to Texas not knowing how they will afford to make the move or how they will outfit their house once they get there, or how they will pay for their expenses month to month. I encouraged her to start writing regular letters and cultivating supporters here, and tried to explain what I thought would communicate to Americans. (She feels uncomfortable with asking people as individuals for support, since this would never be done in Nigeria. She said if she and Zachs were in Nigeria right now, of course everyone would know they needed money for their move, and would just contribute without being asked. So I am encouraging her towards a more direct approach with her American friends.)
In the midst of all this, Grace told me that a pastor they knew had just been killed in a car accident (ironically, on the way back from the funeral of another pastor's wife), and his wife and 4 kids are left without support. So Grace is trying to figure out how she can stretch her grocery budget far enough to send some of it to this woman every month to help her feed her family. This is the woman who really has no idea how she will be putting food on the table for her own family next year. I strongly encouraged her to put a little box in the newsletter about this woman's need, and pray one of their friends has a soft heart to respond.
Grace has such an amazing heart for widows, and stories that make me cry even after I have heard them a few times. In Nigeria her husband Zachs is a pastor, and a few years ago she decided to invite the widows of the church to her house to celebrate Zachs' birthday. Imagine, having a party and inviting the poor and the widows! That is exactly what they did. The widows were so afraid because they thought the pastor must be angry with them or must have harsh words about some reported misconduct. (Widows in Africa are often quite young and often accused of working as prostitutes, which some do, out of desperation.) They were so surprised to show up and find they were the guests of honor. From that day they started meeting together regularly in a kind of widows' association, to support each other. When Zachs came to the US to go to school they gave him a parting gift of a sizable amount of money (for them) that they had scraped together. They told him, "You are doing this for us." And they committed themselves to praying for him and his family during their time in the US. I tell Grace she's so lucky to have an army of godly widows praying for her!
As God would have it Grace and Zachs are moving to Fort Worth, where we have friends that I hope can help them move in and get connected to a church that can support them. I keep thinking that it should be a no brainer, for the body of Christ to reach out to a couple like this and meet their physical needs. I'm not so sure in the US it will be a no brainer, which kind of breaks my heart. Why are we so hard-hearted and slow to give? What if we as the Body of Christ were sensitive enough to the Holy Spirit to see needs within the Body and respond, without having to be told what the needs were? I don't think directness is all bad, nor is a desire to know that our resources are well used. I kept stressing with Grace that Americans are deeply pragmatic.
But what if God were like that, of only giving to us when he was sure His gifts would be well and correctly used, no waste, appropriate gratitude. When God chose to gift me with a fine mind, a (mostly) healthy body, and the birthright of a wonderful family who were citizens of a rich country, he didn't make these things conditional on whether I would always use them correctly. Because I certainly don't. And in spite of my repeated ingratitude and selfish waste and misuse of the gifts he has given me, he just keeps on filling my path with gifts.
So if our God can be so incredibly generous to those of us who least deserve it (which is all of us), why can't we find it in our hearts to be a little more generous with each other? It sure must break God's heart.
Friday, March 12, 2010
foreign aid factoids
My bro and sis-in-law recently gave me a lovely boxed version of The New Yorker on CD-- every issue and article that has ever come out since the 1920s. This of course is tens of thousands of articles and I will never come close to reading them all-- but tonight, as I am getting ready to go to Nigeria in a week, I decided to search for articles on Nigeria. Which brought up some interesting stuff, as these factoids from a 2000 article about the famous meeting between Bono and Jesse Helms. (Before the serious stuff, I just have to share the NY's rich little description of "Helms, whose enthusiasm for mononymic rock stars had hitherto passed unremarked". Ha!)
But here's the important bit:
In 1962, roughly three percent of the federal budget was devoted to development aid. This year, the share going to economic aid for poor countries is less than one percent, which is just twenty-nine dollars per American. (The typical developed country gives about seventy dollars per person.) The entire aid budget for sub-Saharan Africa would just about pay for one new destroyer.
--"Comment: They Are the World", John Cassidy, The New Yorker, 9 October 2000
.
But here's the important bit:
In 1962, roughly three percent of the federal budget was devoted to development aid. This year, the share going to economic aid for poor countries is less than one percent, which is just twenty-nine dollars per American. (The typical developed country gives about seventy dollars per person.) The entire aid budget for sub-Saharan Africa would just about pay for one new destroyer.
--"Comment: They Are the World", John Cassidy, The New Yorker, 9 October 2000
.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
bad news from Nigeria
As I'm headed to Nigeria in a week, this article caught my eye:
Nigerian massacre victims buried in mass grave (LA Times, 8 March 2010)
This isn't even the most disturbing thing I have read today. I guess reading about all the sick and incredibly broken stuff in the world is one of my occupational hazards (I have been reading about Kinsey tonight)-- but seriously, some days the world just seems so dark. Tonight I can't sleep. And just want to weep.
The last couple weeks I have been clinging to Jesus' words about His peace that is not like the world's peace, about not letting my heart be troubled or afraid (John 14:27). What verse do you cling to when the world seems dark?
Something else for sad and/or weary souls (we sang it yesterday at church):
P.S. I have to add that after writing this, who popped up in my Skype chat but my dear friend who is living/working in Darfur. It's nice to have a friend who is also up in the wee hours, which of course are the late morning hours there. And she has shared my depressing-field-of-public-health world like no one else, and I am so glad that God has given me such a friend to walk with me. And that tonight, she understands my heartache (good grief, she works in Darfur!), and can remind me that God is still the Healer and Restorer and Fixer, at work in the world, all the time. This was her verse for me tonight (Isaiah 5:11): "The LORD will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail."
Nigerian massacre victims buried in mass grave (LA Times, 8 March 2010)
This isn't even the most disturbing thing I have read today. I guess reading about all the sick and incredibly broken stuff in the world is one of my occupational hazards (I have been reading about Kinsey tonight)-- but seriously, some days the world just seems so dark. Tonight I can't sleep. And just want to weep.
The last couple weeks I have been clinging to Jesus' words about His peace that is not like the world's peace, about not letting my heart be troubled or afraid (John 14:27). What verse do you cling to when the world seems dark?
Something else for sad and/or weary souls (we sang it yesterday at church):
P.S. I have to add that after writing this, who popped up in my Skype chat but my dear friend who is living/working in Darfur. It's nice to have a friend who is also up in the wee hours, which of course are the late morning hours there. And she has shared my depressing-field-of-public-health world like no one else, and I am so glad that God has given me such a friend to walk with me. And that tonight, she understands my heartache (good grief, she works in Darfur!), and can remind me that God is still the Healer and Restorer and Fixer, at work in the world, all the time. This was her verse for me tonight (Isaiah 5:11): "The LORD will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail."
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
a moment of perspective
This month or so since we got back from Christmas has been one of those difficult, yucky times in life that I know will pass... but it is sure not passing soon enough. I have been either suffering from a horrendous cold or post-concussive (post bus incident) the whole time... I keep waiting to wake up and feel well, and it hasn't happened yet. The last two days I have had to crawl back into bed by the middle of the afternoon-- some days it is really my body calling the shots, no arguing, it just quits on me. I am so buried in work (and this interminable book writing that is STILL NOT DONE)... I can hardly see a light at the end of the tunnel. And in the next three months I am going to have two trips to DC, a trip to Texas, a trip or two to South Africa (still to be determined), at least two sets of houseguests, and J's graduation.
Last night I finally made it back to my women's Bible study for the first time since before Christmas. Such a joy to share my burdens in a context of prayer and reflecting on God's truth (fittingly the theme for the evening was perseverance)... and so healthy to hear about other women's struggles. My pregnant neighbor with 2 small boys who is throwing up all the time, my other pregnant neighbor who is so ready for her baby to come, moms with babies who are adjusting to mommyhood or trying to deal with a baby who won't sleep for more than 2 hours at a time... yikes. I am not sure I would really trade places with any of those ladies. It was nice to be reminded that no one's life is easy but that God promises us joy, peace, and victory over discouragement and self-condemnation in all of our unique struggles. (How many of us last night talked about how guilty we feel for our messy houses? I had to laugh!) I am really thankful for those women and how burdens shared just seem so much lighter. Also thankful for my amazing husband who has been so loving and supportive with his stressed, messy wife.
Today I am once again dealing with mountains of work, including planning for two conferences, both Christians AIDS conferences, both facing various delays, miscommunications, and frustrations right now that just make me want to pull my hair out. In researching one of the people I am corresponding with I ran across a biography of the man who has taken over the Langham Partnership from John Stott. (One of the planning tasks I am working on is trying to organize an HIV session for the Lausanne Conference on world missions, to be held in October in Cape Town; that's the connection.)
Somehow reading about this overwhelmed me with awe and a flood of tears-- as if God was breaking through my busy harried brain for just a moment to whisper in my ear about His incredible work around the world. I needed the reminder. I have been praying for joy in my work, but it is hard-- to keep any perspective that my work is more than endless emails and details, that it is in fact a little part of God's kingdom work in the world. I need to be reminded of this incredible story of God drawing people to himself, all over the world. I need to be reminded that this is the reality that is worth devoting my whole life to, even if my little part in the grand story seems small indeed. How cool is it that thousands of people from all over the world will be gathering in Cape Town in October to seek God for the salvation of the world? How cool is it that a hundred or so African church leaders will be gathering in April to seek God for how the church can call people to sexual wholeness and holiness, and defeat AIDS? How cool is it that I may get to be at both meetings? (For sure the second, not sure about Lausanne.)
Please pray for both of these conferences-- for smoother sailing as we plan, and most of all that they would bring about God's kingdom purposes. And pray that God's reality would keep breaking through into my world.
Last night I finally made it back to my women's Bible study for the first time since before Christmas. Such a joy to share my burdens in a context of prayer and reflecting on God's truth (fittingly the theme for the evening was perseverance)... and so healthy to hear about other women's struggles. My pregnant neighbor with 2 small boys who is throwing up all the time, my other pregnant neighbor who is so ready for her baby to come, moms with babies who are adjusting to mommyhood or trying to deal with a baby who won't sleep for more than 2 hours at a time... yikes. I am not sure I would really trade places with any of those ladies. It was nice to be reminded that no one's life is easy but that God promises us joy, peace, and victory over discouragement and self-condemnation in all of our unique struggles. (How many of us last night talked about how guilty we feel for our messy houses? I had to laugh!) I am really thankful for those women and how burdens shared just seem so much lighter. Also thankful for my amazing husband who has been so loving and supportive with his stressed, messy wife.
Today I am once again dealing with mountains of work, including planning for two conferences, both Christians AIDS conferences, both facing various delays, miscommunications, and frustrations right now that just make me want to pull my hair out. In researching one of the people I am corresponding with I ran across a biography of the man who has taken over the Langham Partnership from John Stott. (One of the planning tasks I am working on is trying to organize an HIV session for the Lausanne Conference on world missions, to be held in October in Cape Town; that's the connection.)
Somehow reading about this overwhelmed me with awe and a flood of tears-- as if God was breaking through my busy harried brain for just a moment to whisper in my ear about His incredible work around the world. I needed the reminder. I have been praying for joy in my work, but it is hard-- to keep any perspective that my work is more than endless emails and details, that it is in fact a little part of God's kingdom work in the world. I need to be reminded of this incredible story of God drawing people to himself, all over the world. I need to be reminded that this is the reality that is worth devoting my whole life to, even if my little part in the grand story seems small indeed. How cool is it that thousands of people from all over the world will be gathering in Cape Town in October to seek God for the salvation of the world? How cool is it that a hundred or so African church leaders will be gathering in April to seek God for how the church can call people to sexual wholeness and holiness, and defeat AIDS? How cool is it that I may get to be at both meetings? (For sure the second, not sure about Lausanne.)
Please pray for both of these conferences-- for smoother sailing as we plan, and most of all that they would bring about God's kingdom purposes. And pray that God's reality would keep breaking through into my world.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Haiti
Sleep is not coming. I guess there are too many things on my mind-- the book, friends who are struggling, and most of all Haiti. There just are no words for a disaster like this.
(And shame, shame, shame on anyone who responds with anything less than the deepest compassion for our brothers and sisters who are living through this nightmare. If you don't know, Pat Robertson today both suggested that this disaster might be a blessing in disguise because it will allow Haitians to rebuild their houses better, and stated that Haiti's sufferings are caused by a pact Haiti made with the devil in 1804. The first comment was just idiotic, the second was unbelievable and inexcusable. J's comment was that Old Testament prophets knew that God would put them to death if they claimed to be speaking for God but weren't speaking His words.)
Thanks to Facebook, I know my American friend who was doing PhD research there is safe (had to take shelter in the French Embassy, then got out via bus to DR). I'm having lunch tomorrow with a colleague who was supposed to be going next week-- but thankfully he's not there yet. Nor is my other close colleague who goes several times a year. I have no idea about my Haitian friend and colleague who is always going back and forth. Or any of the Haitians I worked with when I was there in 2006. I read that the hotel I stayed in on that trip is now rubble. It's details like that that make this feel very real.
And the fact that I've been there, I've seen how tenuous life was before. I wrote about how it was the poorest and most desperate place I'd ever been. But, as anywhere, there was also beauty, humor, and life. I've just been re-reading those posts tonight. Remembering.
(And shame, shame, shame on anyone who responds with anything less than the deepest compassion for our brothers and sisters who are living through this nightmare. If you don't know, Pat Robertson today both suggested that this disaster might be a blessing in disguise because it will allow Haitians to rebuild their houses better, and stated that Haiti's sufferings are caused by a pact Haiti made with the devil in 1804. The first comment was just idiotic, the second was unbelievable and inexcusable. J's comment was that Old Testament prophets knew that God would put them to death if they claimed to be speaking for God but weren't speaking His words.)
Thanks to Facebook, I know my American friend who was doing PhD research there is safe (had to take shelter in the French Embassy, then got out via bus to DR). I'm having lunch tomorrow with a colleague who was supposed to be going next week-- but thankfully he's not there yet. Nor is my other close colleague who goes several times a year. I have no idea about my Haitian friend and colleague who is always going back and forth. Or any of the Haitians I worked with when I was there in 2006. I read that the hotel I stayed in on that trip is now rubble. It's details like that that make this feel very real.
And the fact that I've been there, I've seen how tenuous life was before. I wrote about how it was the poorest and most desperate place I'd ever been. But, as anywhere, there was also beauty, humor, and life. I've just been re-reading those posts tonight. Remembering.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
late night thoughts
I have a book manuscript due in exactly a week (minus a few hours) and I should be in 24/7 work mode right now-- because I certainly don't have enough hours in the week to do the work I would like to do on it. I have been struggling with motivation and discipline on this book for months and months and I thought once I really got down to the wire the deadline adrenaline would kick in-- but except for occasional episodes of mild panic, I am still having massive trouble not wanting to just twitter away my time every day in all manner of silly things. (Really, I actually created a Roth IRA today-- as if it really had to be done this week? Such is the extent of my procrastination.) To be fair, I did work a solid 10 hours today, which got me through one whole chapter (about 20% of the book)-- that shows you how much work there is left to do.
Meanwhile my brain is popping with all this other stuff, that I would much rather be thinking about than what to name the chapter sub-headings (something that really does need my attention). I don't know what it is, but 4 months into our time here at the seminary and 4 1/2 months or so from our departure, I am suddenly feeling ready to leave. Don't get me wrong, I love it here and there are so many people I am just getting to know that I will be so sad to leave, and I could happily live here for years. But I know the transition is coming and somehow I am just feeling very ready to have this chapter close and the next one start. I am sooo ready to have this book be done, ready to wrap up my job (one of my jobs, which will end on Feb 28), ready to pack up (ha! I haven't even totally unpacked), ready to know where we are going to live in the fall and who our friends will be and where we will buy our groceries and all that. I am thinking ahead to this summer and if we will really make it to Africa and where we will go and what we will do-- and I am excited about that, all the possibilities, and the new stuff, starting a PhD and maybe buying a house and getting established in a place where we may stay for a few years.
The struggle for contentment comes in so many forms, and for me at least, it is nearly constant. Probably it is for most of us, if we are honest. Tonight I was reading the blog of a friend who lives in Cambodia and it made me feel half crazy to be in a place like that, seeing and experiencing all the amazing variety and adventure of an overseas life, rather than being in my quiet and cold little corner of New England (where so many days I don't even leave the building!) It was the second time today that this mad longing for something else had siezed me, the other time being when I randomly ran across an online ad for Saudi Arabia. Ah, contentment-- it so rubs against my grain. So I was thankful for my friend's words (here and here) on being obedient and content wherever God places us, because as she notes, every life and set of circumstances has its difficulties. No matter how wonderful and abundant the life that God has given us, there will be circumstances in which contentment and joy are a choice.
So for the next 4 1/2 months I want to be content here. I want to be all here. I want to recognize and fully enjoy every blessing that God sends me here. Even in the midst of winter, book deadlines, and incessant head colds, I want to embrace the here and now. Join me in praying for contentment?
Meanwhile my brain is popping with all this other stuff, that I would much rather be thinking about than what to name the chapter sub-headings (something that really does need my attention). I don't know what it is, but 4 months into our time here at the seminary and 4 1/2 months or so from our departure, I am suddenly feeling ready to leave. Don't get me wrong, I love it here and there are so many people I am just getting to know that I will be so sad to leave, and I could happily live here for years. But I know the transition is coming and somehow I am just feeling very ready to have this chapter close and the next one start. I am sooo ready to have this book be done, ready to wrap up my job (one of my jobs, which will end on Feb 28), ready to pack up (ha! I haven't even totally unpacked), ready to know where we are going to live in the fall and who our friends will be and where we will buy our groceries and all that. I am thinking ahead to this summer and if we will really make it to Africa and where we will go and what we will do-- and I am excited about that, all the possibilities, and the new stuff, starting a PhD and maybe buying a house and getting established in a place where we may stay for a few years.
The struggle for contentment comes in so many forms, and for me at least, it is nearly constant. Probably it is for most of us, if we are honest. Tonight I was reading the blog of a friend who lives in Cambodia and it made me feel half crazy to be in a place like that, seeing and experiencing all the amazing variety and adventure of an overseas life, rather than being in my quiet and cold little corner of New England (where so many days I don't even leave the building!) It was the second time today that this mad longing for something else had siezed me, the other time being when I randomly ran across an online ad for Saudi Arabia. Ah, contentment-- it so rubs against my grain. So I was thankful for my friend's words (here and here) on being obedient and content wherever God places us, because as she notes, every life and set of circumstances has its difficulties. No matter how wonderful and abundant the life that God has given us, there will be circumstances in which contentment and joy are a choice.
So for the next 4 1/2 months I want to be content here. I want to be all here. I want to recognize and fully enjoy every blessing that God sends me here. Even in the midst of winter, book deadlines, and incessant head colds, I want to embrace the here and now. Join me in praying for contentment?
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
living freely and lightly
You know those days that just feel like a perfect storm? I’ve been fasting the last few days out of a conviction that I haven’t had for a number of years that I really need to fast and actually I really want to fast, and it was going well, until today. I’ve been reading an awesome book that my neighbor Pam (IV staff worker and reader of many good devotional books) loaned me at the perfect time. It’s on spiritual disciplines but starts with these amazing words about discipline not being a retreat from our desires, but rather the fulfilling of our all soul’s desires and longings, which are really just longings for God—and through everything from prayer to celebration we can draw near to God and have our longings met. The words “unforced rhythms of grace” (the author’s phrase) and “Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly” (Matthew 11:30, The Message) keep ringing in my ears.
And then today I totally, totally lost it. I had jury duty, and of course no time ever seems like a good time for jury duty and I have been feeling so stressed with all the work that just keeps piling up, not to mention all the Christmas stuff this time of year-- it always seems so busy. I have never been convinced that jury duty is critical to the functioning of a healthy democracy, and having to give up my time like that just makes me grumpy. I had to be at the courthouse in Boston at 8 a.m. (usually just about when I am waking up), and I was planning on getting the 6:49 a.m. train, but then Joel and I realized last night that he actually needed the car to be at church at 6 a.m. Our church does an early morning service every Wednesday and once a month Joel serves as an acolyte. Our neighbors offered to take me to the train but I have kind of been wanting to go to this service anyway so I figured I would tough it out and go with Joel, and then catch the train nearby.
On the way to church we realized I had virtually no cash (which I needed for the train) and I had forgotten to pick up the roll of quarters I meant to pick up on the way out the door and Joel had forgotten to pick up the three dollar bills he meant to pick up. (Does anyone else’s household operate like this, where you usually don’t have more than three bucks and some change between you?) No problem, I thought. I would drop Joel off at church (he had to be there half an hour early to get ready) and find an ATM. It was dark, slick, and rainy, I never drive in this area and kept getting lost, and I couldn’t find an ATM. One location wouldn’t let me in the door (you know those automatic card readers that open the door)—I figured out later that neither of my ATM cards were working for reasons I still can’t figure out. By the time I got back to church I was late, frustrated, cold and wet, and still cash-less. The homily was a great message about receiving God’s rest but I just couldn’t my shake my mad-at-the-world-and-I-hate-New-England-in-winter feeling.
I wanted to stay til the end of the service and thought I would have enough time to stop at a grocery store (which was finally open) and get cash, which I did, but I missed my train. And I kept feeling lost on those dark streets and calling Joel and he wasn’t answering and I just felt FRUSTRATED! When I got into Boston the freezing rain had turned to snow with freezing rain and I had no umbrella and couldn’t find the courthouse and was cold, wet, and very frustrated as I ran around downtown Boston. I kept trying to call Joel to get directions and tell him how much my day SUCKED but it’s probably a good thing he didn’t answer until I had cooled down a little.
As it turns out being 45 minutes late for jury duty isn’t that big a deal, I just slipped into a seat and made snide comments under my breath about the 80s era “how to be a juror” video. Definitely not happy to be there. After the video they gave us a break and I went to ask the officers if I could get reimbursed for the $15 it cost me to get into Boston. They looked confused. Turns out as I live in a totally different county now (30 miles from Boston) I never should have been called for jury duty in the first place in Boston, and no one can tell me how that happened (you would think they would be able to train their computers to, say, check zipcodes)... and no they couldn’t reimburse me the $15... but I was free to go. (I of course have been wondering why I didn’t notice that I now live in a totally different county—except that I am not very aware of such things.)
On the way out (through snow and freezing rain) I did get a hold of Joel to tell him how much my day SUCKED and how angry it makes me when he doesn’t answer his phone, both inappropriate reactions that of course I should not let fly and of course made him feel really bad. Nice job, wife.
I guess the good news is I am going to be home by 1 p.m. and I can get my work done rather than sitting on a jury. And maybe the other blessing, no matter how well disguised, is that I get this exposé of my own heart. (I’m not always sure exactly what fasting accomplished, but certainly it makes me more aware.) I certainly could have done some things differently today, like not vent my toxic emotions to my spouse, but I think more than that I want to be different. In the theme of spiritual disciplines not being about better behavior (and I don’t think that is what God ultimately wants for us anyway), but about coming close to God out of desire—to be changed, to not lose it even when we are having a perfect storm of a day, to learn to live freely and lightly.
And then today I totally, totally lost it. I had jury duty, and of course no time ever seems like a good time for jury duty and I have been feeling so stressed with all the work that just keeps piling up, not to mention all the Christmas stuff this time of year-- it always seems so busy. I have never been convinced that jury duty is critical to the functioning of a healthy democracy, and having to give up my time like that just makes me grumpy. I had to be at the courthouse in Boston at 8 a.m. (usually just about when I am waking up), and I was planning on getting the 6:49 a.m. train, but then Joel and I realized last night that he actually needed the car to be at church at 6 a.m. Our church does an early morning service every Wednesday and once a month Joel serves as an acolyte. Our neighbors offered to take me to the train but I have kind of been wanting to go to this service anyway so I figured I would tough it out and go with Joel, and then catch the train nearby.
On the way to church we realized I had virtually no cash (which I needed for the train) and I had forgotten to pick up the roll of quarters I meant to pick up on the way out the door and Joel had forgotten to pick up the three dollar bills he meant to pick up. (Does anyone else’s household operate like this, where you usually don’t have more than three bucks and some change between you?) No problem, I thought. I would drop Joel off at church (he had to be there half an hour early to get ready) and find an ATM. It was dark, slick, and rainy, I never drive in this area and kept getting lost, and I couldn’t find an ATM. One location wouldn’t let me in the door (you know those automatic card readers that open the door)—I figured out later that neither of my ATM cards were working for reasons I still can’t figure out. By the time I got back to church I was late, frustrated, cold and wet, and still cash-less. The homily was a great message about receiving God’s rest but I just couldn’t my shake my mad-at-the-world-and-I-hate-New-England-in-winter feeling.
I wanted to stay til the end of the service and thought I would have enough time to stop at a grocery store (which was finally open) and get cash, which I did, but I missed my train. And I kept feeling lost on those dark streets and calling Joel and he wasn’t answering and I just felt FRUSTRATED! When I got into Boston the freezing rain had turned to snow with freezing rain and I had no umbrella and couldn’t find the courthouse and was cold, wet, and very frustrated as I ran around downtown Boston. I kept trying to call Joel to get directions and tell him how much my day SUCKED but it’s probably a good thing he didn’t answer until I had cooled down a little.
As it turns out being 45 minutes late for jury duty isn’t that big a deal, I just slipped into a seat and made snide comments under my breath about the 80s era “how to be a juror” video. Definitely not happy to be there. After the video they gave us a break and I went to ask the officers if I could get reimbursed for the $15 it cost me to get into Boston. They looked confused. Turns out as I live in a totally different county now (30 miles from Boston) I never should have been called for jury duty in the first place in Boston, and no one can tell me how that happened (you would think they would be able to train their computers to, say, check zipcodes)... and no they couldn’t reimburse me the $15... but I was free to go. (I of course have been wondering why I didn’t notice that I now live in a totally different county—except that I am not very aware of such things.)
On the way out (through snow and freezing rain) I did get a hold of Joel to tell him how much my day SUCKED and how angry it makes me when he doesn’t answer his phone, both inappropriate reactions that of course I should not let fly and of course made him feel really bad. Nice job, wife.
I guess the good news is I am going to be home by 1 p.m. and I can get my work done rather than sitting on a jury. And maybe the other blessing, no matter how well disguised, is that I get this exposé of my own heart. (I’m not always sure exactly what fasting accomplished, but certainly it makes me more aware.) I certainly could have done some things differently today, like not vent my toxic emotions to my spouse, but I think more than that I want to be different. In the theme of spiritual disciplines not being about better behavior (and I don’t think that is what God ultimately wants for us anyway), but about coming close to God out of desire—to be changed, to not lose it even when we are having a perfect storm of a day, to learn to live freely and lightly.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
giving thanks
Someone in my life is involved in a network of addicts and former addicts, and I hear their stories from time to time. Many happy stories, but also some that will break your heart. One particular man has been hitting rock bottom again and again in the last few months. This man seems to have come to know Jesus, but yet the addiction kept reaching out of his past to grab him, to hurtle him (literally stark raving mad, a man who no longer knows his own name) into disaster and danger of every kind. It is a miracle he is still alive. He has lost his family, career, everything. He feels abandoned by God, wonders why coming to God hasn't broken his addiction. I too wonder where God is in this story. My friend is not a believer, and I keep thinking about what kind of witness this is to him, what kind of God he is seeing in this story, as this man's faith doesn't seem to be able to save him. I have wanted to believe that this man's horrible experience is just a longer, more round-about road to a greater miracle and a greater witness-- but lately, it hasn't been looking that way.
But just now I got an email from my friend that this man has now been clean for 6 weeks. I cried when I read it. He seems to be returning to his right mind, and picking up the pieces. Maybe his miracle finally has arrived.
Would you pray for this man, that this time his health and sanity would be truly restored to him, permanently? And as we gather tomorrow to celebrate our abundance of blessings, let's remember to pray for those whose lives are in crisis, and who need a miracle.
But just now I got an email from my friend that this man has now been clean for 6 weeks. I cried when I read it. He seems to be returning to his right mind, and picking up the pieces. Maybe his miracle finally has arrived.
Would you pray for this man, that this time his health and sanity would be truly restored to him, permanently? And as we gather tomorrow to celebrate our abundance of blessings, let's remember to pray for those whose lives are in crisis, and who need a miracle.
Friday, October 16, 2009
one of those moments
I just had one of those moments that made me acutely aware of how incredibly grateful I am for everything I have in life.
I am working on a project with two wonderful women, one in the UK and one in South Africa. Really, they are so smart, professional, and thoroughly nice, and it has been such a delight to work with them, even though I only really know them through their voices on the phone. Today on a call with the South African lady (the head of our little team), I learned that the UK lady's husband has only a few months to live-- my boss was asking if I would be willing to pick up the slack, should the UK lady have to drop down her hours somewhat. I am stunned. This nice British mom with two little kids is losing her husband, having to juggle work with moving them into a single-story house, getting home health care, saying good-bye. They are on a 5-week international trip right now, and I had thought how lucky they were (those Europeans!) to have so much vacation, but now it makes so much more sense. She was taking her family away, to make sure they had as much time together as possible in these final months.
I can't stop crying over the realization of how thankful I am that I have a husband who is young and strong, who will (God willing) walk through the door in an hour for lunch.
I am working on a project with two wonderful women, one in the UK and one in South Africa. Really, they are so smart, professional, and thoroughly nice, and it has been such a delight to work with them, even though I only really know them through their voices on the phone. Today on a call with the South African lady (the head of our little team), I learned that the UK lady's husband has only a few months to live-- my boss was asking if I would be willing to pick up the slack, should the UK lady have to drop down her hours somewhat. I am stunned. This nice British mom with two little kids is losing her husband, having to juggle work with moving them into a single-story house, getting home health care, saying good-bye. They are on a 5-week international trip right now, and I had thought how lucky they were (those Europeans!) to have so much vacation, but now it makes so much more sense. She was taking her family away, to make sure they had as much time together as possible in these final months.
I can't stop crying over the realization of how thankful I am that I have a husband who is young and strong, who will (God willing) walk through the door in an hour for lunch.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
contentment
I so often struggle with contentment. In a spiritual sense I have so much-- an eternal relationship with the God of the universe, all the riches of Christ. In a temporal sense I have so much-- an incredible life, husband, family, friends, every material need abundantly met. Yet so often I find myself feeling unfulfilled, dissatisfied, restless, and convinced that some that which I don't currently have (or can't even really identify) would make me happy.
I've been feeling like this the last couple days, no particular reason, but this morning Colossians 3 came to mind. If only I could always set my heart on heaven-- the true reality.
These are the verses I was thinking of (NIV):
1Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. 2Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.
But it's really great in The Message:
He Is Your Life (Colossians 3)
1-2 So if you're serious about living this new resurrection life with Christ, act like it. Pursue the things over which Christ presides. Don't shuffle along, eyes to the ground, absorbed with the things right in front of you. Look up, and be alert to what is going on around Christ—that's where the action is. See things from his perspective.
I've been feeling like this the last couple days, no particular reason, but this morning Colossians 3 came to mind. If only I could always set my heart on heaven-- the true reality.
These are the verses I was thinking of (NIV):
1Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. 2Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.
But it's really great in The Message:
He Is Your Life (Colossians 3)
1-2 So if you're serious about living this new resurrection life with Christ, act like it. Pursue the things over which Christ presides. Don't shuffle along, eyes to the ground, absorbed with the things right in front of you. Look up, and be alert to what is going on around Christ—that's where the action is. See things from his perspective. 3-4Your old life is dead. Your new life, which is your real life—even though invisible to spectators—is with Christ in God. He is your life. When Christ (your real life, remember) shows up again on this earth, you'll show up, too—the real you, the glorious you. Meanwhile, be content with obscurity, like Christ.
5-8And that means killing off everything connected with that way of death: sexual promiscuity, impurity, lust, doing whatever you feel like whenever you feel like it, and grabbing whatever attracts your fancy. That's a life shaped by things and feelings instead of by God. It's because of this kind of thing that God is about to explode in anger. It wasn't long ago that you were doing all that stuff and not knowing any better. But you know better now, so make sure it's all gone for good: bad temper, irritability, meanness, profanity, dirty talk.
9-11Don't lie to one another. You're done with that old life. It's like a filthy set of ill-fitting clothes you've stripped off and put in the fire. Now you're dressed in a new wardrobe. Every item of your new way of life is custom-made by the Creator, with his label on it. All the old fashions are now obsolete. Words like Jewish and non-Jewish, religious and irreligious, insider and outsider, uncivilized and uncouth, slave and free, mean nothing. From now on everyone is defined by Christ, everyone is included in Christ.
12-14So, chosen by God for this new life of love, dress in the wardrobe God picked out for you: compassion, kindness, humility, quiet strength, discipline. Be even-tempered, content with second place, quick to forgive an offense. Forgive as quickly and completely as the Master forgave you. And regardless of what else you put on, wear love. It's your basic, all-purpose garment. Never be without it.
15-17Let the peace of Christ keep you in tune with each other, in step with each other. None of this going off and doing your own thing. And cultivate thankfulness. Let the Word of Christ—the Message—have the run of the house. Give it plenty of room in your lives. Instruct and direct one another using good common sense. And sing, sing your hearts out to God! Let every detail in your lives—words, actions, whatever—be done in the name of the Master, Jesus, thanking God the Father every step of the way.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
these fragile bodies
After nearly a week at conferences I start to feel like my head is going to explode. I come to these conferences every year and every year I love it—getting to see friends I really only see at conferences, learning about new things, meeting new people, having the fire in my belly for the world's poor and sick stirred up a little. I remember my first year at these conferences, five years ago—nervous me in my suits, needing a job, not knowing who to talk to in the sea of strangers. Now I can hardly get where I’m trying to go for running into people I know and want to talk to, and even the people I don’t really know (or can’t remember if I know) all look weirdly familiar. Today a woman about my age walked up to me and I still can’t for the life of me remember how I know her but we concluded that we did in fact know each other from my DC days and somehow I know she’s a Christian as well so it was fun to talk.
Anyway, it is now my 6th day at conferences and I am feeling like I need to sleep and I need to cry and I definitely need to stop eating rich conference lunches and desserts and did I mention that I really need some rest?
Today I have heard a couple stories of the kind that I have heard so many times but will never get used to. Child soldiers. Child mothers. Child mothers whose bodies rip so that they leak feces and urine for years and decades to come. Obstetric fistula can happen when women are too young and their bodies too immature when they go to give birth. Anal-to-vaginal fistula can also happen as a result of violence, such as what is happening in N Uganda and North Kivu, DRC. I have blogged about this before. A doctor today told stories-- guns shoved into women's bodies and fired, rape in the most horrible ways you can imagine.
He shared a quote from a child soldier in N Uganda who had forced old women to lay down and spread their legs and then had shoved sharp sticks into their vaginas until they died. To me nothing is more chilling that children who perpetuate violence like this. It's such a clear picture of the dehumanizing nature of evil and such a reminder that our struggle is not against flesh and blood but against the powers of evil. I wanted to weep for the child as much as the poor grandmothers-- that poor child who begged his counselor (during his re-integration counseling) not to send him back to his mother in the village because she would know what he had done and how could he ever live with himself?
What is on my mind is the fragility of women's bodies-- and the aching question of why? Even in normal circumstances of pregnancy and childbirth there is so much that can go wrong, so many ways a woman's body can break and tear. Those poor pregnant girls who become leaking, stinking outcasts as a result of one bad delivery. The millions of women who die in childbirth. Why could God not have built our bodies to be more the equivalent of, I don't know, armored tanks. So that a child couldn't invade old women's fragile bodies with a stick until they died. So that a soldier with a machete couldn't rip open a woman's body in her most vulnerable place. Why this fragility and horrible vulnerability?
I think I've blogged some of these before but Nick Kristoff at the NYT has some good stuff on Catherine Hamlin's work at the fistula hospital in Ethiopia.
Tea with Mother Theresa (blog post about tea with Catherine Hamlin)
Alone and Ashamed (article about hospital)
The Illiterate Surgeon (my favorite article of all-- makes me cry every time)
There's a great book about Catherine Hamlin. And yes, she and her husband (now dead) were missionaries and committed Christians.
And a movie about women being healed from fistula that I'm dying to see: A Walk to Beautiful.
On a happier note, how is this for an “it’s a small world” moment. We were having dinner last night with J’s good friends, who he knows from
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
good-byes
I was at a wedding with my college friends about a month ago, and over Sunday brunch we started talking about good-byes. One of my friends had gone out to the car without saying good-bye to any of us; her husband explained that she had done this on purpose, because she didn't like saying good-byes. (You know how it is, you have a group of ten or fifteen people and everyone has to hug everyone else and then sometimes enough time passes that you pass the good-bye stage and enter plain old hanging out stage, and then you have to start the good-byes all over again. It can be exhausting.)
Someone else told a story about a couple other college friends who, on a beach in California (at the end of a college friends weekend together), suddenly sprinted away from the rest of the group, calling good-byes over their shoulder, got into their car, and drove away. I guess they didn't want to deal with the good-bye process either.
I get that. I say so many good-byes, and most of the time I would rather skip the whole production. And in my mind, most good-byes are really just see-you-laters. (At least for other Christians, this is true.) I've even started saying "See you later" instead of "Good-bye" a lot of the time-- which may strike some people as weird, say, when I'm flying off to a different continent and we really have no idea when we'll meet again.
In this particular conversation over brunch I said something about how most good-byes were really just see-you-laters, as we are all going to see each other in Heaven. To me, that's a really comforting thought-- that so many of the relationships I have here, in which there never seems to be enough time and people I love always seem to be too far away-- are really just the prelude to the real relationships that I'm going to have with people in Heaven. It's comforting that there's going to be something infinitely better and more whole after all this crazy coming and going and moving around and away, here on Earth. It's comforting that our lives here really are just a mist that appears for a little while, and that all the pain of missing people and not having the people I love around is going to be just a distant memory in the light of eternity, when we're going to have all the time I would ever want just to hang out and enjoy each other.
But this thought of "See you in Heaven!" struck all my friends as really funny, as if I expected my friends to get flattened by buses shortly after they walked out the front door, and they had quite a field day with it. You know, waving to each other and saying "See you in Heaven!" as various people departed. Oh well, I knew what I meant. And Priscilla (the only other Third Culture Kid in the room!) did too.
I was thinking about this again last night as I said another good-bye. Here is a picture of my small group. We meet every week in theory but sometimes we cancel and with all the traveling and crazy schedules that people have sometimes it's many weeks that I don't see certain people. I haven't been at small group in a month or so, actually. But last night we had everyone over here (I made falafel for the first time ever, a mountain of it that all got eaten, and fattoush, and it was great), and we were almost all here. (Missing Jen who defended her dissertation and ran the Boston marathon in the last week, and Bennett who plays his string bass in several different ensembles and had practice.)
We took a picture, as we it was Marcel and Anina's last night (standing in the back next to J and I). They are from Switzerland (he's actually a pastor, working on a PhD here), have been here a year and were hoping to stay for several, but life has not worked out that way. I will miss them!! Trading cooking tips and ideas with Anina, talking about the Gospel with Marcel, hearing stories about the very idiosyncratic place that is Switzerland and trying to explain America, with both of them. I will miss their gifts of fine Swiss chocolate and their graciousness. (Theirs is the only small group house where we actually sit at a table to eat; the rest of our houses we have to sit on couches and chairs and wherever, which I think mildly shocked our classy Swiss friends.) I learned so much, and we laughed a lot. A whole lot. I'm so glad they've been here to share our lives.
There's always a ton of change afoot in that group-- just in those who were there last night we have a 3-week old marriage, an engagement to someone on the other side of the country, a move this week across the world, two of us applying to PhD programs (both with dreams deferred, at least for now), and six of us looking for jobs! Last night I looked around to realize that only one person in the room actually had a stable job that he expected to be in a year from now! (Although his firm just laid off 20% of the staff...) Crazy times we live in. We pray a lot for trust of God and His ways.
I guess that's all for today. I'm thankful for friends, even the ones who enter and leave my life far too quickly. And I'm thankful that we will meet again.
Someone else told a story about a couple other college friends who, on a beach in California (at the end of a college friends weekend together), suddenly sprinted away from the rest of the group, calling good-byes over their shoulder, got into their car, and drove away. I guess they didn't want to deal with the good-bye process either.
I get that. I say so many good-byes, and most of the time I would rather skip the whole production. And in my mind, most good-byes are really just see-you-laters. (At least for other Christians, this is true.) I've even started saying "See you later" instead of "Good-bye" a lot of the time-- which may strike some people as weird, say, when I'm flying off to a different continent and we really have no idea when we'll meet again.
In this particular conversation over brunch I said something about how most good-byes were really just see-you-laters, as we are all going to see each other in Heaven. To me, that's a really comforting thought-- that so many of the relationships I have here, in which there never seems to be enough time and people I love always seem to be too far away-- are really just the prelude to the real relationships that I'm going to have with people in Heaven. It's comforting that there's going to be something infinitely better and more whole after all this crazy coming and going and moving around and away, here on Earth. It's comforting that our lives here really are just a mist that appears for a little while, and that all the pain of missing people and not having the people I love around is going to be just a distant memory in the light of eternity, when we're going to have all the time I would ever want just to hang out and enjoy each other.
But this thought of "See you in Heaven!" struck all my friends as really funny, as if I expected my friends to get flattened by buses shortly after they walked out the front door, and they had quite a field day with it. You know, waving to each other and saying "See you in Heaven!" as various people departed. Oh well, I knew what I meant. And Priscilla (the only other Third Culture Kid in the room!) did too.
I was thinking about this again last night as I said another good-bye. Here is a picture of my small group. We meet every week in theory but sometimes we cancel and with all the traveling and crazy schedules that people have sometimes it's many weeks that I don't see certain people. I haven't been at small group in a month or so, actually. But last night we had everyone over here (I made falafel for the first time ever, a mountain of it that all got eaten, and fattoush, and it was great), and we were almost all here. (Missing Jen who defended her dissertation and ran the Boston marathon in the last week, and Bennett who plays his string bass in several different ensembles and had practice.)
We took a picture, as we it was Marcel and Anina's last night (standing in the back next to J and I). They are from Switzerland (he's actually a pastor, working on a PhD here), have been here a year and were hoping to stay for several, but life has not worked out that way. I will miss them!! Trading cooking tips and ideas with Anina, talking about the Gospel with Marcel, hearing stories about the very idiosyncratic place that is Switzerland and trying to explain America, with both of them. I will miss their gifts of fine Swiss chocolate and their graciousness. (Theirs is the only small group house where we actually sit at a table to eat; the rest of our houses we have to sit on couches and chairs and wherever, which I think mildly shocked our classy Swiss friends.) I learned so much, and we laughed a lot. A whole lot. I'm so glad they've been here to share our lives.
There's always a ton of change afoot in that group-- just in those who were there last night we have a 3-week old marriage, an engagement to someone on the other side of the country, a move this week across the world, two of us applying to PhD programs (both with dreams deferred, at least for now), and six of us looking for jobs! Last night I looked around to realize that only one person in the room actually had a stable job that he expected to be in a year from now! (Although his firm just laid off 20% of the staff...) Crazy times we live in. We pray a lot for trust of God and His ways.
I guess that's all for today. I'm thankful for friends, even the ones who enter and leave my life far too quickly. And I'm thankful that we will meet again.
Friday, February 27, 2009
5 minute reflection
I am going to try hard to keep this to 5 minutes as I am already desperately late for work...
I was listening to a Danielle Rose song just now (she's a Catholic consecrated layperson who sings like an angel, the song is Give and Take) and she sings about what if God took away her voice, her sight, and the song ends like this.
And if you had to take away my name
And I no longer knew who I was or how I changed
If you took away my breath, or the beating of my heart
If you took away my destiny, if you took my world apart
If this is what you had to do, so that I could be close to You
I'd praise you for the brokenness
I'd give everything up
For I want nothing to stand between our love
It's a simple and powerful song of surrender, and suddenly the words that were in my brain were, "If you had to take away my brain" and I was crying. This is how I feel, I guess. On mornings like this when I know I spent 9 hours in bed but still feel like I haven't slept at all, when I am utterly exhausted, when my brain seems in a deep freeze, in slow motion, not me at all. I struggle to function, to read an article, to write a page, to do my job, and I feel utterly freaked out that I am not up to the task of things I used to be able to do easily. I don't know if I'll ever be myself again, ever have my old brain back, if life will ever return to normal.
I don't mean to whine. I know we all have things we have to give up. And we all need the call to surrender and be weak so that we can find our strength in Him. I'm not sure I really know how this works.
Okay, I'm at nearly 10 minutes. Gotta go.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Kierkegaard, on Christian scholarship defending us against the Bible
I don't sit around reading Kierkegaard (wish I did). But our pastor read parts of this absolutely brilliant (and bitingly true) quote yesterday, and it's worth sharing.
Søren Kierkegaard, Provocations, p. 201-202
The matter is quite simple. The Bible is very easy to understand. But we Christians are a bunch of scheming swindlers. We pretend to be unable to understand it because we know very well that the minute we understand we are obliged to act accordingly. Take any words in the New Testament and forget everything except pledging yourself to act accordingly. My God, you will say, if I do that my whole life will be ruined. How would I ever get on in the world?
Herein lies the real place of Christian scholarship. Christian scholarship is the Church’s prodigious invention to defend itself against the Bible, to ensure that we can continue to be good Christians without the Bible coming too close. Oh, priceless scholarship, what would we do without you? Dreadful it is to fall into the hands of the living God. Yes, it is even dreadful to be alone with the New Testament.
I open the New Testament and read: “If you want to be perfect, then sell all your goods and give to the poor and come follow me.” Good God, if we were to actually do this, all the capitalists, the officeholders, and the entrepreneurs, the whole society in fact, would be almost beggars! We would be sunk if it were not for Christian scholarship! Praise be to everyone who works to consolidate the reputation of Christian scholarship, which helps to restrain the New Testament, this confounded book which would one, two, three, run us all down if it got loose (that is, if Christian scholarship did not restrain it).
Søren Kierkegaard, Provocations, p. 201-202
Thursday, September 18, 2008
pray for Haiti
Isn't it amazing how many horrible things happen in the world that barely register as a blip on our brains? Floods, wars, famines, thousands of people dying at a go, and yet we hardly hear about it, so important is it that we hear about the latest insults traded by the presidential candidates or about (if you live in Boston) Tom Brady's knee. I heard a 30-second segment on NPR a week or two ago about hurricanes hitting Haiti and thought "how awful, poor Haiti"... and then proceeded to spend hours over the following days obsessed with all things Sarah Palin (okay, that whole spectacle is fascinating, if not a little terrifying)... and thought no more about Haiti.
Two days ago my phone rang mid-afternoon and I saw it was my dear Haitian colleague that I've written about on here before. I haven't talked to her since the spring (she was traveling, then I was traveling), so I was really excited to see that she had called. But I didn't answer my phone, because I was having a poor-me day and feeling truly cruddy and just didn't want to talk to anyone. Part of the problem was that I was truly feeling bad and so exhausted I could hardly construct a sentence (this infernal chronic fatigue is still with me), but part of the problem was that I was, as I said, trapped in my little poor-me world and not really interested in leaving it enough to engage with someone else.
So finally the next morning (yesterday) I listened to the voicemail my friend had left. She had just returned from 2 weeks of disaster relief work in Haiti, said she had seen worse things than she had ever seen in her life (like truckloads of dead babies), and was desperately in need of prayer, and felt like I was the one person she could call to ask for prayer. Of course I called her back right away and we made plans to meet up later in the day (yesterday). And I was heartbroken and sickened to hear about what is happening in Haiti, and in response to my friend's apologies every 5 minutes for being such a downer, just kept saying, "I'm so glad you told me."
Because really, I should know that nearly a million people in Haiti are displaced, homeless, most without basic food/water/shelter, many standing in 3 or 4 feet of water, with infected wounds festering in that disgusting water, and no place to go. Why had I not known? (Come on, I've been to Haiti, I basically know how bad things always are there, and I knew when I heard that short NPR clip that things were probably really, really bad.) I guess I chose not to know because I was wrapped up in my own life and issues, and didn't want to carry the burden of knowing about and praying for a desperate situation. Obviously none of us can know about all the horrible things going on around the world-- none of us can carry that much burden, and God doesn't intend us to. But I think He did want me to pray for Haiti, especially two days ago when my friend called to ask for prayer and I didn't answer because I was too wrapped up in my own stuff. How many opportunities do I miss because I am too wrapped up in myself?
I felt majorly convicted, especially by that verse in I Peter: "therefore be clear-minded and self-controlled so you can pray."
Also by that amazingly hard passage from John that popped up in yesterday's Daily Office (I am now listening to Morning Prayer on my iPod every morning, good stuff-- the Daily Office is daily scripture readings and prayers from the Anglicant Book of Common Prayer)-- "I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life."
If you want to see some pictures of Haiti (from Partners in Health, the organization with which my friend works) go here.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
a love song
I have been in the Washington, DC area for nearly a week and away from J for nearly 3 days, and it is getting really old and I am really missing him. As much as I love the girlfriend I am sharing a palatial hotel room with, and all the wonderful colleagues I get to see at the conference, they don't begin to make up for not being with my husband.
So I'm feeling more aware than usual today what an incredible man I have in my life, and what a beautiful thing marriage is, and how blessed I am-- and reading this love song of another woman to the husband she just lost is making me cry. I am no movie star, and I am not sure J and I are quite that larger-than-life (reading about her husband's huge energy actually made me pretty tired)... and I certainly cannot say we are the type to never raise our voices at each other... but I resonated so deeply with her words about feeling that she was the luckiest woman alive, and that of all the people who have ever lived her husband would be the one she would want to be stuck in an elevator with.
Her beautiful words are definitely worth reading (get your tissue ready).
So I'm feeling more aware than usual today what an incredible man I have in my life, and what a beautiful thing marriage is, and how blessed I am-- and reading this love song of another woman to the husband she just lost is making me cry. I am no movie star, and I am not sure J and I are quite that larger-than-life (reading about her husband's huge energy actually made me pretty tired)... and I certainly cannot say we are the type to never raise our voices at each other... but I resonated so deeply with her words about feeling that she was the luckiest woman alive, and that of all the people who have ever lived her husband would be the one she would want to be stuck in an elevator with.
Her beautiful words are definitely worth reading (get your tissue ready).
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
faith journeys (the vicarious edition)
Lately I've been feeling low. I've been experiencing chronic fatigue, and more recently some pain and other symptoms, for many months-- really since we got married 8 months ago. I have my theories about what may be wrong, but the couple medical personnel I've seen so far haven't been helpful, so there has seemed to be no answer or relief in sight. (I do have an appointment with a specialist in a week.) Certain parts of my usual normal life have ground to a halt, and there are many things I usually love that I either can't/don't do these days or have no joy in (cooking comes to mind). The list of undone things in my life (housecleaning, phone calls, wedding thank you notes) just piles up. I come home from a 7-hour day at work and it's all I can do to eat dinner, talk to my husband a little bit, and go to bed. Last night I was looking around my messy house, thinking of how much I wanted the energy to clean my house and do so many other things-- and just feeling sad.
I have been feeling discouraged, like I am in survival mode, like much of the joy has drained out of my life and I don't have anything to give to anyone right now. It feels like deep waters-- not in the grand scheme of things (daily news about other parts of the world keeps that in perspective)-- but deep waters for me. Is God still caring for me? My faith is weak.
So, last night I was really encouraged to hear from two people in my life about how God is working, tenderly and powerfully, in their lives. I needed the reminder that God is around, caring, working miracles all the time.
For some reason I couldn't sleep, so I was up at 11 when my mom sent an email describing three recent "God sightings" in her life. The events were small, but I understand why they were so important. Things like having the earring my brother gave her as a child turn up in a most unaccountable way, after it had been presumed lost. Stuff with God's fingerprints and care all over it.
Then at 11:30 my phone rang, and it was my best friend, telling me that her baby had safely come into the world, through a home birth no less, and on the day that for various reasons she really had to come. (Welcome to the world, Shalom Lindy Lael!) Not only that, but God has really taken care of them in super-special ways. My friend had to deliver in a town several hours from where they live, and none of her family could be there to help her during the birth. I wanted to drop everything and go-- but I knew I couldn't at this juncture. I felt so bad, thinking about her and her husband with 3 small kids and one on the way, and no one to help. But God sent a family they didn't even know, with 5 kids of their own and a 15 passenger van, to befriend them and serve them in so many ways. I cried hearing about it-- that God had met their need in such a way. Now they just have to buy a vehicle to replace the two vehicles that have died in the 3 weeks they've been waiting for the baby in this other town (well, and move out of the rental house by noon today-- that was why the baby, who was late, really needed to come yesterday.) This all seems to be in a day's work for my friend-- have a baby, buy a car, move houses-- but pray for them if you can.
Anyway, the point is that I am glad I have people around to share their God sightings, because it builds my faith and hope. God is with us, period.
I have been feeling discouraged, like I am in survival mode, like much of the joy has drained out of my life and I don't have anything to give to anyone right now. It feels like deep waters-- not in the grand scheme of things (daily news about other parts of the world keeps that in perspective)-- but deep waters for me. Is God still caring for me? My faith is weak.
So, last night I was really encouraged to hear from two people in my life about how God is working, tenderly and powerfully, in their lives. I needed the reminder that God is around, caring, working miracles all the time.
For some reason I couldn't sleep, so I was up at 11 when my mom sent an email describing three recent "God sightings" in her life. The events were small, but I understand why they were so important. Things like having the earring my brother gave her as a child turn up in a most unaccountable way, after it had been presumed lost. Stuff with God's fingerprints and care all over it.
Then at 11:30 my phone rang, and it was my best friend, telling me that her baby had safely come into the world, through a home birth no less, and on the day that for various reasons she really had to come. (Welcome to the world, Shalom Lindy Lael!) Not only that, but God has really taken care of them in super-special ways. My friend had to deliver in a town several hours from where they live, and none of her family could be there to help her during the birth. I wanted to drop everything and go-- but I knew I couldn't at this juncture. I felt so bad, thinking about her and her husband with 3 small kids and one on the way, and no one to help. But God sent a family they didn't even know, with 5 kids of their own and a 15 passenger van, to befriend them and serve them in so many ways. I cried hearing about it-- that God had met their need in such a way. Now they just have to buy a vehicle to replace the two vehicles that have died in the 3 weeks they've been waiting for the baby in this other town (well, and move out of the rental house by noon today-- that was why the baby, who was late, really needed to come yesterday.) This all seems to be in a day's work for my friend-- have a baby, buy a car, move houses-- but pray for them if you can.
Anyway, the point is that I am glad I have people around to share their God sightings, because it builds my faith and hope. God is with us, period.
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