Over the years Bob and I have been able to afford most of our home improvement projects only by doing the work ourselves. We’ve painted, wallpapered, and sheet-rocked. Laid sod, sub-flooring, and tile. Installed ceiling fans, toilets, and countertops. We’ve worked hard and come away with pride at our efforts. Which is all well and good when it comes to home improvement.
But heart improvement is another matter.
This week we settled our daughter into a freshman dorm room two states away. At one point during the ten-hour drive home, I had time to pray at the wheel while the guys slept. Instead of asking (again) why God didn’t space out the events stressing our lives in the span of three weeks—moving a daughter, selling our home, making our own move, going back to work fulltime, etc., etc.—I finally began to praise him for heaping all those things on us at once.
Don’t ask me why. I guess I just knew it was time to stop whining and start praising. You see, even though I’ve recognized these many events as blessings, I've had serious issues with the timing . . .
Not anymore.
As soon as I began thanking the Lord for the crazy, compacted nature of our schedule, my heart exploded with gratitude. Why?
Because his strength is made perfect in my weakness.
Circumstances have forced me to be utterly and desperately reliant on the Father. Or rather, they’ve forced me to admit my utter and desperate reliance on him. It is humbling and freeing and deliciously sweet.
Had things worked out differently this summer, I know for a fact I would have handled them on my own, thank you very much. And I would have been proud of myself for doing so.
But instead, there’s absolutely no way I can accomplish what must be done in a day. On top of that, there’s no reason I should be patient with my family, grow even closer to my husband, and have time to draw near to Jesus. Or confess all this in a blog. Somehow, though, it’s happening.
So there you have it. I’m stinkin’ excited that I can’t manage any of this on my own. That I’m as wobbly as a newborn colt. That I’ve had to abandon any pride I might have salvaged through this transition.
Because the only thing I need is God’s strength. I can definitely live with that.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Update
This journey we’re on is thrilling, scary, awesome, and challenging, and we are wholly convinced it is Spirit-led. Time and again this summer, the Spirit has spoken clearly past the confusion and insecurity and discouragement our hearts have experienced.
As you may know, we are in an intense period of significant transition: job, school, family, income, ministry, and housing changes. Despite our busyness and worries and distractions, the Father has allowed us to encourage and impact the planting of two simple fellowships in the past few weeks: a home church in Taos, NM and a fast-evolving Bible study group of unchurched and dechurched people in an Amarillo apartment community. We are not the planters in either case, but we praise God for allowing us to actively speak into both groups. Just this week, a young Christian woman invited us to plant a church in her apartment. We are approaching this prayerfully, along with her, and will move forward as God leads.
The Lord continues to refine and focus his call on our lives. He’s nurtured within us a specific vision for simple churches and has actively placed us in relationship with a number of passionate Christ-followers who are similarly called and presently pursuing this kind of ministry. They are patient tutors, enthusiastic encouragers, and wise leaders. We are humbled that God’s faithfulness would be so rich.
Our church planting friends are scattered far and wide, but, praise God, we meet monthly with two other couples in our area who share our hearts. One of them has arranged for our local group of “missional friends” to be closely mentored by a visiting church planter working specifically with house church networks and other multiplying movements in China. We look forward to the coaching he will provide and invite any interested Amarillo-area friends to join us.
I mentioned worries earlier, and I do so to my shame. Please pray that we will trust our Lord completely. He knows that our house still needs selling and exactly what bills need paying with our reduced income and how we’re going to manage all the stressful adjustments August alone will bring.
In everything, we just want to focus on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, and on the Father, who is over all and through all and in all.
As you may know, we are in an intense period of significant transition: job, school, family, income, ministry, and housing changes. Despite our busyness and worries and distractions, the Father has allowed us to encourage and impact the planting of two simple fellowships in the past few weeks: a home church in Taos, NM and a fast-evolving Bible study group of unchurched and dechurched people in an Amarillo apartment community. We are not the planters in either case, but we praise God for allowing us to actively speak into both groups. Just this week, a young Christian woman invited us to plant a church in her apartment. We are approaching this prayerfully, along with her, and will move forward as God leads.
The Lord continues to refine and focus his call on our lives. He’s nurtured within us a specific vision for simple churches and has actively placed us in relationship with a number of passionate Christ-followers who are similarly called and presently pursuing this kind of ministry. They are patient tutors, enthusiastic encouragers, and wise leaders. We are humbled that God’s faithfulness would be so rich.
Our church planting friends are scattered far and wide, but, praise God, we meet monthly with two other couples in our area who share our hearts. One of them has arranged for our local group of “missional friends” to be closely mentored by a visiting church planter working specifically with house church networks and other multiplying movements in China. We look forward to the coaching he will provide and invite any interested Amarillo-area friends to join us.
I mentioned worries earlier, and I do so to my shame. Please pray that we will trust our Lord completely. He knows that our house still needs selling and exactly what bills need paying with our reduced income and how we’re going to manage all the stressful adjustments August alone will bring.
In everything, we just want to focus on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, and on the Father, who is over all and through all and in all.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Grief and Glory
For those of you who read Pamela Mutambirwa's story I posted on June 4, please join me in prayer for her husband and daughters, for sweet and faithful Pamela passed on to glory yesterday. Below is Brother Godwin's email notifying us. I am in tears, even as I rejoice. --Caron
***
l am sad to inform you that Pamela Mutambirwa died today . . . she passed away this morning in Harare so they want the body to be carried from Harare to burry her in wedza this has really saddened many christians since she was a very strong saint however we are happy that she will be in the Lord's arms as she was faithful before God. Her husband Farayi does not work so it is going to be a big problem in buying the cooffin ,transportation for the body from Harare and also food to be eaten on the funeral. God willing l am going to help on food to be eaten at the funeral we are happy because Pamela and her husband are faithful in the Lord at the time of her death she was now worshpping with Mukondwa church of Christ she was also a commitee member for the ladies at Mukondwa the whole church will miss her a lot. As l writting l am praying that God will open the avenues for her body to be transpoted to wedza and also help in buying the coffin and the food at the funeral pray for the 2 kids who were left behind, otherwise our good work is going on well here May the good Lord bless you and pray for this hard time we have we are really morning our beloved sister to us at Mukondwa we are taking Pamella and Farayi as Priscilla and Aquilla in the bible they were lovers of God pray for thje husband and the kids we love you ln His name Godwin
***
l am sad to inform you that Pamela Mutambirwa died today . . . she passed away this morning in Harare so they want the body to be carried from Harare to burry her in wedza this has really saddened many christians since she was a very strong saint however we are happy that she will be in the Lord's arms as she was faithful before God. Her husband Farayi does not work so it is going to be a big problem in buying the cooffin ,transportation for the body from Harare and also food to be eaten on the funeral. God willing l am going to help on food to be eaten at the funeral we are happy because Pamela and her husband are faithful in the Lord at the time of her death she was now worshpping with Mukondwa church of Christ she was also a commitee member for the ladies at Mukondwa the whole church will miss her a lot. As l writting l am praying that God will open the avenues for her body to be transpoted to wedza and also help in buying the coffin and the food at the funeral pray for the 2 kids who were left behind, otherwise our good work is going on well here May the good Lord bless you and pray for this hard time we have we are really morning our beloved sister to us at Mukondwa we are taking Pamella and Farayi as Priscilla and Aquilla in the bible they were lovers of God pray for thje husband and the kids we love you ln His name Godwin
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Did You Know?
I realize I've been pretty sporadic on the blog this summer, but it's only because God has been so busy in my life and heart that I've moved into a phase of intense listening. About the time I think I've learned something worth sharing, He says to me, "Be quiet. I'm not done teaching you yet."
Nevetheless, I do want to point you toward a fascinating video on YouTube that you might not have seen yet. I first encountered it at a teacher training earlier this summer, then came across it again today in an email sent by another simple church planter. Invest just 8 minutes to watch Did You Know? (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pMcfrLYDm2U), and it may very well open your eyes to the task set before us.
Many of us are finally paying attention to how dramatically the world has changed in the past few years. How dramatically it's changing day-by-day. We're beginning to figure out that if the world is changing, then so must our presentation of the gospel.
Don't get me wrong: the gospel of Jesus is timeless and perfect, but it must be presented in a variety of ways to the diverse listeners out there. In fact, as we say in Line of Departure (see the link to the right), we're going to have to scramble if we're serious about building the kind of relationships that earn an audience for the Good News.
Diversity is exactly the reason I believe there's a place for traditional churches, megachurches, rural churches, urban churches, simple churches, etc. By simple, I mean those that meet in houses, neighborhood parks, coffeeshops, pubs, work places, or parking lots.
You see, the world thinks it has Christianity figured out. That it's outmoded. Outdated. Out of step with reality. Shame on us for giving them reason to think so. To be honest, too many Christians reinforce that misperception by the lackluster way they live their faith. The hateful way they live it. The untransformed way they live it. Or the bubble way they live it, isolating themselves in Christian enclaves with little outside influence or value. Can't deny I've been there.
Bob and I have been exploring our city with new eyes lately. Asking the Lord to help us really see where people are, who people are, how they're hurting, and how we can better connect them to the salvation of God in Christ Jesus. Pretty eye-opening to a couple of folks who, just a few months ago, were convinced this is an unusually "Christianized" community.
It's our own little version of Did You Know?
Nevetheless, I do want to point you toward a fascinating video on YouTube that you might not have seen yet. I first encountered it at a teacher training earlier this summer, then came across it again today in an email sent by another simple church planter. Invest just 8 minutes to watch Did You Know? (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pMcfrLYDm2U), and it may very well open your eyes to the task set before us.
Many of us are finally paying attention to how dramatically the world has changed in the past few years. How dramatically it's changing day-by-day. We're beginning to figure out that if the world is changing, then so must our presentation of the gospel.
Don't get me wrong: the gospel of Jesus is timeless and perfect, but it must be presented in a variety of ways to the diverse listeners out there. In fact, as we say in Line of Departure (see the link to the right), we're going to have to scramble if we're serious about building the kind of relationships that earn an audience for the Good News.
Diversity is exactly the reason I believe there's a place for traditional churches, megachurches, rural churches, urban churches, simple churches, etc. By simple, I mean those that meet in houses, neighborhood parks, coffeeshops, pubs, work places, or parking lots.
You see, the world thinks it has Christianity figured out. That it's outmoded. Outdated. Out of step with reality. Shame on us for giving them reason to think so. To be honest, too many Christians reinforce that misperception by the lackluster way they live their faith. The hateful way they live it. The untransformed way they live it. Or the bubble way they live it, isolating themselves in Christian enclaves with little outside influence or value. Can't deny I've been there.
Bob and I have been exploring our city with new eyes lately. Asking the Lord to help us really see where people are, who people are, how they're hurting, and how we can better connect them to the salvation of God in Christ Jesus. Pretty eye-opening to a couple of folks who, just a few months ago, were convinced this is an unusually "Christianized" community.
It's our own little version of Did You Know?
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Enough and Never Enough
Sometimes I find it easy to become discouraged with myself. I strive to live by faith, and then in a moment of faithlessness I take it all back and worry or live in fear or question what God’s up to or try to control the outcome of a situation. Some days I’m a faith-filled woman, a powerful witness to the refining work of God. Other days I’m a sniveling coward, angry with myself for wondering where in the world God disappeared to.
We’re all like that, aren’t we? We want to operate out of faith, but we just can’t seem to sustain it to the extent we think we’re supposed to. We become uncertain, confused, bewildered, impatient, frustrated.
But let me tell you, from my vantage point, that’s nothing to beat ourselves up about, and here’s why: most of us don’t consider that God is always offering us progressively more challenging faith tests. We’ll never “arrive.” But each test causes our faith to grow, each failure teaches us the intended lesson. And every effort on our part is valued by God.
Some people, in their attempts to encourage us toward faith, would have us believe we barely live by faith at all. That we’re constantly disappointing God. They imply that if we were really pillars of the faith community, we’d never doubt. Never question. Never have a moment of dullness in our lives. Never need a nap or cry or yell at our kids or take antidepressants.
I don’t believe it. Some of the most extraordinary examples of faith come from people who struggled the most to live by it.
Remember those “heroes of the faith” in Hebrews 11? Abraham, for example, gets a whopping six verses dedicated to his faith, but think of all the times he didn't live by it. Like when he lied about Sarah being his wife because he was afraid someone would kill him in order to have her. Or when he impregnated his slave girl instead of waiting for God to open Sarah’s barren womb.
Good grief, the Israelites are lauded as examples of faith when we know full well that most of those who passed through the Red Sea by faith never entered the Promised Land because of their unbelief.
Don’t even get me started on the apostles who left everything to follow Jesus then spent the next three years arguing with him about what his ministry should look like, who he should talk to at Samaritan wells, and how in the world could they possibly feed all those people with five loaves and two fish.
The point is that for every step of faith we take, there are six more ahead that would not be steps of faith if they didn’t require . . . well, more faith than we have now. Praise God that we will encounter faith challenges at every turn, for it is through them that we are being transformed into the image of Jesus. And faith isn’t faith unless it involves the potential for doubt.
My friend Jerome Daley sent out a great newsletter today that touches on what I’m saying (you can sign up for Jerome's newsletter at http://www.purposecoach.net/wb/pages/coaching-column.php). He wrote, “God's deep yearning is for us to live in utter reliance upon and unprecedented partnership with Him. Yet despite this mind-boggling invitation, we hesitate. Our craving for control pulls at us relentlessly. And into this quandary, the gift He extends is . . . uncertainty.”
Uncertainty is a gift?
Absolutely! It’s only our enemy when we allow it to rule our faith-walk. And even then, God can redeem it. C.S. Lewis, in the Screwtape Letters, writes as the demon Screwtape: “He [God] wants them [believers] to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is really there He is pleased even with their stumbles.”
The faith we have today is likely not sufficient for tomorrow. But God is. And He is able to challenge and nurture our faith if only we do not grow weary or discouraged and give up on ourselves. Because He doesn’t.
To Him, our faith is enough, but never enough that He will stop providing opportunities to grow in it.
And that’s the beauty of this journey.
We’re all like that, aren’t we? We want to operate out of faith, but we just can’t seem to sustain it to the extent we think we’re supposed to. We become uncertain, confused, bewildered, impatient, frustrated.
But let me tell you, from my vantage point, that’s nothing to beat ourselves up about, and here’s why: most of us don’t consider that God is always offering us progressively more challenging faith tests. We’ll never “arrive.” But each test causes our faith to grow, each failure teaches us the intended lesson. And every effort on our part is valued by God.
Some people, in their attempts to encourage us toward faith, would have us believe we barely live by faith at all. That we’re constantly disappointing God. They imply that if we were really pillars of the faith community, we’d never doubt. Never question. Never have a moment of dullness in our lives. Never need a nap or cry or yell at our kids or take antidepressants.
I don’t believe it. Some of the most extraordinary examples of faith come from people who struggled the most to live by it.
Remember those “heroes of the faith” in Hebrews 11? Abraham, for example, gets a whopping six verses dedicated to his faith, but think of all the times he didn't live by it. Like when he lied about Sarah being his wife because he was afraid someone would kill him in order to have her. Or when he impregnated his slave girl instead of waiting for God to open Sarah’s barren womb.
Good grief, the Israelites are lauded as examples of faith when we know full well that most of those who passed through the Red Sea by faith never entered the Promised Land because of their unbelief.
Don’t even get me started on the apostles who left everything to follow Jesus then spent the next three years arguing with him about what his ministry should look like, who he should talk to at Samaritan wells, and how in the world could they possibly feed all those people with five loaves and two fish.
The point is that for every step of faith we take, there are six more ahead that would not be steps of faith if they didn’t require . . . well, more faith than we have now. Praise God that we will encounter faith challenges at every turn, for it is through them that we are being transformed into the image of Jesus. And faith isn’t faith unless it involves the potential for doubt.
My friend Jerome Daley sent out a great newsletter today that touches on what I’m saying (you can sign up for Jerome's newsletter at http://www.purposecoach.net/wb/pages/coaching-column.php). He wrote, “God's deep yearning is for us to live in utter reliance upon and unprecedented partnership with Him. Yet despite this mind-boggling invitation, we hesitate. Our craving for control pulls at us relentlessly. And into this quandary, the gift He extends is . . . uncertainty.”
Uncertainty is a gift?
Absolutely! It’s only our enemy when we allow it to rule our faith-walk. And even then, God can redeem it. C.S. Lewis, in the Screwtape Letters, writes as the demon Screwtape: “He [God] wants them [believers] to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is really there He is pleased even with their stumbles.”
The faith we have today is likely not sufficient for tomorrow. But God is. And He is able to challenge and nurture our faith if only we do not grow weary or discouraged and give up on ourselves. Because He doesn’t.
To Him, our faith is enough, but never enough that He will stop providing opportunities to grow in it.
And that’s the beauty of this journey.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Going Back
Last night my sweet sister Paula and I spent four hours booking flights for 5 of us to travel to Zimbabwe next October on a budget.
We are passionate about teaching the Zimbabwean church leaders and their wives more about authentic, simple, and transforming discipleship, the anti movements and a legalistic expression of faith being the norm there. And so the Leveretts and I will return, along with our shepherd Jerry Morgan and our brother Brian Mashburn who speaks so articulately on the subject--his life being the most powerful sermon of all.
Please pray for the Lord's will in these plans, that the doors into Zimbabwe will remain open, for the hearts of the leaders and their spouses, that the true and life-giving message of Christ will seep into the cracks and crevices of this oppressed nation. I offer a more personal prayer request as well: that God will provide the money I need to make up for my lost wages in October. I will be docked for virtually every day of the trip, and as the sole breadwinner for the family at that time, we will be acutely dependent on his promises for care and provision.
I pray to always live acutely dependent upon them.
I am eager to tell you how the Lord has worked in the Dos Santoses lives recently, particularly with their visa needs. But that story--while mind-boggling and one only God could write--isn't finished yet. Keep praying for them and check back periodically for an update.
We are passionate about teaching the Zimbabwean church leaders and their wives more about authentic, simple, and transforming discipleship, the anti movements and a legalistic expression of faith being the norm there. And so the Leveretts and I will return, along with our shepherd Jerry Morgan and our brother Brian Mashburn who speaks so articulately on the subject--his life being the most powerful sermon of all.
Please pray for the Lord's will in these plans, that the doors into Zimbabwe will remain open, for the hearts of the leaders and their spouses, that the true and life-giving message of Christ will seep into the cracks and crevices of this oppressed nation. I offer a more personal prayer request as well: that God will provide the money I need to make up for my lost wages in October. I will be docked for virtually every day of the trip, and as the sole breadwinner for the family at that time, we will be acutely dependent on his promises for care and provision.
I pray to always live acutely dependent upon them.
I am eager to tell you how the Lord has worked in the Dos Santoses lives recently, particularly with their visa needs. But that story--while mind-boggling and one only God could write--isn't finished yet. Keep praying for them and check back periodically for an update.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Pamela Farayi Mutambirwa’s story
Nearly two weeks ago I felt inspired to type up the word-for-word story written down and handed to me by a precious sister in Christ while I was in Zimbabwe last fall. Pamela is married to her second husband—the first died from AIDS, as it turns out. She and her current husband have two little girls. I chronicled part of her story in my September 17, 2006 post.
God’s nature being what it is, just two or three days later I received a letter from Pamela, prompting more fervent prayers, thoughts, and action on her behalf. I’d like to share some of her writings with you here. May they inspire you, encourage you, and embolden you as they do me. I am sharing them largely as she wrote them, complete with grammar, punctuation, and spelling oddities.
***
Isaiah 43:1-3
December 5 2005 marked a very important day in our lives. Weeks before, I had been coughing my lungs out, I had lost weight (from 68 kgs to 40 kgs) my skin was looking terrible, I scratched and had a terrible rash, thrush, terrible temper, I was just on edge most [of] the time. I was experiencing a geographic process. I was peeling like a rock under intense heat and cold. No matter how much cream or what kind, it never worked for me. I was a living geography chapter under “CHEMICAL WEATHERING.” That day I cried “Lord help” and to my husband “I am falling apart piece by piece.” I needed help and it came with a drunken woman while I sat scratching myself, much like Job.
With a strange smile she greeted me. I replied.
[She said,] “You too are having problems with this rash, lets see your tongue, well, well, welcome to the club.”
I was taken back. “Welcome to the club?”
“If anyone asks you tell them you have heat rash but in actual fact, this is H.I.V. related—you are sick young woman, now go for tests and confirm and be given drugs—make sure you join a support group.”
I was terrified—these were deep waters I was in, what if my husband decided to leave after confirmation. I had to face the results. Without second thoughts I ran straight to where my husband was, in a little shop that we were renting (I am a caterer), I told him what had happened outside and without any hesitation, he simply said, “When?”
My answer was—“tommorrow very early.”
In the meantime business was not [on] our side. We couldn’t understand what was happening. We were seriously stuck. With all this on our plate, we prayed “God whatever the results are going to be, prepare us.”
You know, some people live a weird Christian life—weird because they do not believe in miracles, their definition of miracles is totally wacked. We received our miracle in a very beautiful way. Jesus said “Peace I give unto you, not as the world gives.” That was our miracle—PEACE and assurance that we had not been cursed. I told my husband that if the results were to come “positive” we should give it over to God so He can use the results positively for His Glory—which we did. We dedicated our results to God and He is faithful—we have started to talk to people, sharing God’s word as it has applied in our lives.
It was such a relief getting our results though they were positive, I felt a burden had been removed from me [Note: Pamela’s husband was also H.I.V. positive]. Much to the counsellor’s surprise we looked at each other with hope and relief, instead of being counselled, we seemed to now be counselling the counsellor—only God CAN we told her.
Back home, the landlord had come—disconnected our power, and left. The next day he [came] back and kicked us out at noon while everyone was watching, no income, no shelter, no food—just plenty of God, we were driven closer to the cross. Though he was defeated two thousand years ago, the devil brought hell in our faces by the second. It was too much for me to handle—I cried in front of our local pastor. “It’s far better to be H.I.V. positive than to be humiliated in public” I cried.
We finally got accommodation at a place that can only be described as “a place to put your head.” It was raining, room was too small, but why need a bigger one, when we had sold some of our belongings to start the business and buy food, and rent. We started again our confectionery work, we sold our wares to a local businessman who ended up cheating us—we stopped. We left the little room we were renting for a cheaper one, it was like moving from Sodom to Gomorah. This time we had not even [one] cent to start anything—people who we owed money started claiming their monies—up till now, we haven’t paid them. Like I said “only God can,” this time we lived as the children of Israel in the desert under the words of the new testament verse “Therefore do not worry about what you shall eat or drink . . . ”
We had our daily bread and manna, in the form of mushroom. It was so plentiful we had enough to sell and buy soap, meali-meal, pay rent. No matter whether other[s] went before us, our 5kg allowance always was there, same place, same time. We started again, doing confectionary—it was short lived, every sale had something it needed to buy, either soap, food, rent or refilling of ingredients. We smiled a little when we were offered to look after a deceased couple’s property, it’s a payless job but we thank God every day we have a place a bit more permanent. My body felt strange sleeping on a bed for the first time since 2003, my brain must have worked over time adjusting my system so as not to get dizzy and fall (laughing).
2006 March this year we got a job at $1500,00 salary rate [Note: Zim dollars. At that time, I’m guessing it had the value of about $3.75 US]—life has eased a little, we can buy food though most of the time it is the wrong food, for our health, we can take our drugs, but winter came it was our worst enemy, with 3 blankets and 3 thin jerseys [we] were at the mercy of the cold. Flu ruled, and coughing was as regular as breathing but we survived. Our job is not really able to give us security as we can spend one month without meat for sale, we fear we could fall back to the days of hunger. But God says in Isaiah 43:1-3, “I am with you always” . . . and in Psalm 91 lies a beautiful promise, so yes in the material sense we are faced with a tough time, but, hey, where is God, He doesn’t go on vacation, if He can feed ants, bugs, birds and water the trees etc., what about us, who were bought and redeemed by the precious blood of His Son—Jesus Christ. He will surely breathe a life saving idea to provide food and clothing. God is not going to come and drop a basket of goodies or a trunk full of clothes—He gives an idea, but only if you seek His face.
He will provide because He is Jehovah Jire.
He will heal because He is Jehova Rapha.
He will give peace/protection because He is Jehovah Nissi.
He will arise and fight for me because He is Jehova El Shaddai.
So as I close this first story all I can say is “For I know whom I have believed in, and I am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day.” Being H.I.V. positive is not a death sentence it’s an opportunity to share God’s power of grace to the lost.
Give yourself to Christ whatever your ailment is, could it be cancer, kidney failure, heart problems, paralysis. God is very good at using what we call “right offs.” You feel like a right off? God can do anything. Do not grumble “Oh why me.” Who did you want it on? God allows sickness to come to us because He just wants to be glorified. Give Him the ailment and see Him work with it after He used a donkey to speak. Everything is His—try Him. Keep the disease between you and your doctor/s and you are inviting the devil to use you, and he will ride you until you are worn out like a tireless rim, but God will bring peace. Try my Jehova “taste and see that the Lord is good.”
***
Fearfully and Wonderfully Made
My name is Pamela Farayi (meaning rejoice). I am 35 years old, born in 1971 on August 8. I am married to Tendai Mahachi (Tendai means thanks). We have two daughters, both H.I.V. negative, the first is Dion Esther, the last is Chelsea Chiedza (Chiedza means Dawn/Light). I am a caterer, hairdresser, decorator, typist, tailor/designer.
It is my hope that you had pleasure reading this first article as much as I had pleasure writing it. Do not have a pity party for me, just simply hand this to the next person in distress. May the Lord God whose name is Jehovah, the Lord of Hosts, Al Shadaai, Prince of Peace, the great I AM, the Rock, the Living Water, (the Greatest Cook) keep you and in a world so confused may He give you the greatest miracle He gave us, PEACE, to dwell in your lives. Remember, He is Jehovah Rapha, the cure no matter how you feel, and by His stripes we have been healed. When taking your medication, pray over it as you pray over food. Do not forget to quoting God’s promises.
“Arise and shine for your light has come.”
God’s nature being what it is, just two or three days later I received a letter from Pamela, prompting more fervent prayers, thoughts, and action on her behalf. I’d like to share some of her writings with you here. May they inspire you, encourage you, and embolden you as they do me. I am sharing them largely as she wrote them, complete with grammar, punctuation, and spelling oddities.
***
Isaiah 43:1-3
December 5 2005 marked a very important day in our lives. Weeks before, I had been coughing my lungs out, I had lost weight (from 68 kgs to 40 kgs) my skin was looking terrible, I scratched and had a terrible rash, thrush, terrible temper, I was just on edge most [of] the time. I was experiencing a geographic process. I was peeling like a rock under intense heat and cold. No matter how much cream or what kind, it never worked for me. I was a living geography chapter under “CHEMICAL WEATHERING.” That day I cried “Lord help” and to my husband “I am falling apart piece by piece.” I needed help and it came with a drunken woman while I sat scratching myself, much like Job.
With a strange smile she greeted me. I replied.
[She said,] “You too are having problems with this rash, lets see your tongue, well, well, welcome to the club.”
I was taken back. “Welcome to the club?”
“If anyone asks you tell them you have heat rash but in actual fact, this is H.I.V. related—you are sick young woman, now go for tests and confirm and be given drugs—make sure you join a support group.”
I was terrified—these were deep waters I was in, what if my husband decided to leave after confirmation. I had to face the results. Without second thoughts I ran straight to where my husband was, in a little shop that we were renting (I am a caterer), I told him what had happened outside and without any hesitation, he simply said, “When?”
My answer was—“tommorrow very early.”
In the meantime business was not [on] our side. We couldn’t understand what was happening. We were seriously stuck. With all this on our plate, we prayed “God whatever the results are going to be, prepare us.”
You know, some people live a weird Christian life—weird because they do not believe in miracles, their definition of miracles is totally wacked. We received our miracle in a very beautiful way. Jesus said “Peace I give unto you, not as the world gives.” That was our miracle—PEACE and assurance that we had not been cursed. I told my husband that if the results were to come “positive” we should give it over to God so He can use the results positively for His Glory—which we did. We dedicated our results to God and He is faithful—we have started to talk to people, sharing God’s word as it has applied in our lives.
It was such a relief getting our results though they were positive, I felt a burden had been removed from me [Note: Pamela’s husband was also H.I.V. positive]. Much to the counsellor’s surprise we looked at each other with hope and relief, instead of being counselled, we seemed to now be counselling the counsellor—only God CAN we told her.
Back home, the landlord had come—disconnected our power, and left. The next day he [came] back and kicked us out at noon while everyone was watching, no income, no shelter, no food—just plenty of God, we were driven closer to the cross. Though he was defeated two thousand years ago, the devil brought hell in our faces by the second. It was too much for me to handle—I cried in front of our local pastor. “It’s far better to be H.I.V. positive than to be humiliated in public” I cried.
We finally got accommodation at a place that can only be described as “a place to put your head.” It was raining, room was too small, but why need a bigger one, when we had sold some of our belongings to start the business and buy food, and rent. We started again our confectionery work, we sold our wares to a local businessman who ended up cheating us—we stopped. We left the little room we were renting for a cheaper one, it was like moving from Sodom to Gomorah. This time we had not even [one] cent to start anything—people who we owed money started claiming their monies—up till now, we haven’t paid them. Like I said “only God can,” this time we lived as the children of Israel in the desert under the words of the new testament verse “Therefore do not worry about what you shall eat or drink . . . ”
We had our daily bread and manna, in the form of mushroom. It was so plentiful we had enough to sell and buy soap, meali-meal, pay rent. No matter whether other[s] went before us, our 5kg allowance always was there, same place, same time. We started again, doing confectionary—it was short lived, every sale had something it needed to buy, either soap, food, rent or refilling of ingredients. We smiled a little when we were offered to look after a deceased couple’s property, it’s a payless job but we thank God every day we have a place a bit more permanent. My body felt strange sleeping on a bed for the first time since 2003, my brain must have worked over time adjusting my system so as not to get dizzy and fall (laughing).
2006 March this year we got a job at $1500,00 salary rate [Note: Zim dollars. At that time, I’m guessing it had the value of about $3.75 US]—life has eased a little, we can buy food though most of the time it is the wrong food, for our health, we can take our drugs, but winter came it was our worst enemy, with 3 blankets and 3 thin jerseys [we] were at the mercy of the cold. Flu ruled, and coughing was as regular as breathing but we survived. Our job is not really able to give us security as we can spend one month without meat for sale, we fear we could fall back to the days of hunger. But God says in Isaiah 43:1-3, “I am with you always” . . . and in Psalm 91 lies a beautiful promise, so yes in the material sense we are faced with a tough time, but, hey, where is God, He doesn’t go on vacation, if He can feed ants, bugs, birds and water the trees etc., what about us, who were bought and redeemed by the precious blood of His Son—Jesus Christ. He will surely breathe a life saving idea to provide food and clothing. God is not going to come and drop a basket of goodies or a trunk full of clothes—He gives an idea, but only if you seek His face.
He will provide because He is Jehovah Jire.
He will heal because He is Jehova Rapha.
He will give peace/protection because He is Jehovah Nissi.
He will arise and fight for me because He is Jehova El Shaddai.
So as I close this first story all I can say is “For I know whom I have believed in, and I am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day.” Being H.I.V. positive is not a death sentence it’s an opportunity to share God’s power of grace to the lost.
Give yourself to Christ whatever your ailment is, could it be cancer, kidney failure, heart problems, paralysis. God is very good at using what we call “right offs.” You feel like a right off? God can do anything. Do not grumble “Oh why me.” Who did you want it on? God allows sickness to come to us because He just wants to be glorified. Give Him the ailment and see Him work with it after He used a donkey to speak. Everything is His—try Him. Keep the disease between you and your doctor/s and you are inviting the devil to use you, and he will ride you until you are worn out like a tireless rim, but God will bring peace. Try my Jehova “taste and see that the Lord is good.”
***
Fearfully and Wonderfully Made
My name is Pamela Farayi (meaning rejoice). I am 35 years old, born in 1971 on August 8. I am married to Tendai Mahachi (Tendai means thanks). We have two daughters, both H.I.V. negative, the first is Dion Esther, the last is Chelsea Chiedza (Chiedza means Dawn/Light). I am a caterer, hairdresser, decorator, typist, tailor/designer.
It is my hope that you had pleasure reading this first article as much as I had pleasure writing it. Do not have a pity party for me, just simply hand this to the next person in distress. May the Lord God whose name is Jehovah, the Lord of Hosts, Al Shadaai, Prince of Peace, the great I AM, the Rock, the Living Water, (the Greatest Cook) keep you and in a world so confused may He give you the greatest miracle He gave us, PEACE, to dwell in your lives. Remember, He is Jehovah Rapha, the cure no matter how you feel, and by His stripes we have been healed. When taking your medication, pray over it as you pray over food. Do not forget to quoting God’s promises.
“Arise and shine for your light has come.”
Sunday, May 20, 2007
What About Bob?
(Below is an edited version of a letter we will share with the Southwest church next Sunday. I hope it serves to answer questions my blog friends might also have. Thanks for checking in!)
First, let us briefly explain again why Bob will be transitioning out of his staff position by the end of the summer after more than a decade in fulltime ministry, nearly seven of them here. Our hearts have always been for the harvest. As students of culture, we’ve observed a shift in how and where people seek answers to their spiritual questions. Because of this, we’ve developed some core values for the ministry to which we’ve been called. Three of them are as follows:
· We must be missional. We are compelled to discover fresh ways to communicate the gospel to those outside of our traditional church culture, much like a foreign missionary must learn how to communicate the good news in ways that make sense to those in his mission field. We must go where not-yet-Christians are.
· We must be incarnational. We must fully enter culture as Christ’s representatives. It’s critical that we are a legitimate part of culture, doing our best to remove all barriers to the gospel other than the gospel itself.
· We must become church-planters. We must plant churches among people groups who are not currently being reached. Specifically, we are passionate about reaching people who might never consider walking through the doors of a traditional church.
That said, we are excited to see how the Lord is orchestrating this transition for us. We’re prayerfully pursuing Bob's entrance into the nursing program at West Texas A & M University in order to become self-supporting. He is already enrolled in summer classes, and we expect it to take just over two years to earn this second bachelor’s degree which is very much in line with his lifelong interests and background. It will also give us greater flexibility to move wherever God leads in the future. Caron will be working fulltime in order to support us during this transition, and we are thankful that she’s already been hired to teach math at the middle school next year where she previously taught social studies. Our home is on the market, and we're downsizing as fast as we can.
In the meantime, we hope to begin planting churches wherever the fields are ripe. We envision starting simple, easily reproducible churches in homes, for instance. We trust that God will show us how and when and where—we will follow His lead.
We appreciate the love and support we’ve received from so many of you. Thank you in advance for your continued prayers and friendship. We are also immensely grateful to the elders, ministers, and staff at Southwest for their love and shepherding. It is an honor to be their friends. And mostly, we are thankful to the Lord for His transforming work in us and in His church.
With the Love and Affection of Christ, the Guillos
So . . . What About Bob?
A lot of people have asked similar questions since the announcement was made that we would be moving out of paid ministry at Southwest. The confusion is understandable—our plans at that time of last month’s announcement were undefined—but the Lord’s been answering our prayers for clarity and direction. We’d like to share where we believe he’s leading us.First, let us briefly explain again why Bob will be transitioning out of his staff position by the end of the summer after more than a decade in fulltime ministry, nearly seven of them here. Our hearts have always been for the harvest. As students of culture, we’ve observed a shift in how and where people seek answers to their spiritual questions. Because of this, we’ve developed some core values for the ministry to which we’ve been called. Three of them are as follows:
· We must be missional. We are compelled to discover fresh ways to communicate the gospel to those outside of our traditional church culture, much like a foreign missionary must learn how to communicate the good news in ways that make sense to those in his mission field. We must go where not-yet-Christians are.
· We must be incarnational. We must fully enter culture as Christ’s representatives. It’s critical that we are a legitimate part of culture, doing our best to remove all barriers to the gospel other than the gospel itself.
· We must become church-planters. We must plant churches among people groups who are not currently being reached. Specifically, we are passionate about reaching people who might never consider walking through the doors of a traditional church.
That said, we are excited to see how the Lord is orchestrating this transition for us. We’re prayerfully pursuing Bob's entrance into the nursing program at West Texas A & M University in order to become self-supporting. He is already enrolled in summer classes, and we expect it to take just over two years to earn this second bachelor’s degree which is very much in line with his lifelong interests and background. It will also give us greater flexibility to move wherever God leads in the future. Caron will be working fulltime in order to support us during this transition, and we are thankful that she’s already been hired to teach math at the middle school next year where she previously taught social studies. Our home is on the market, and we're downsizing as fast as we can.
In the meantime, we hope to begin planting churches wherever the fields are ripe. We envision starting simple, easily reproducible churches in homes, for instance. We trust that God will show us how and when and where—we will follow His lead.
We appreciate the love and support we’ve received from so many of you. Thank you in advance for your continued prayers and friendship. We are also immensely grateful to the elders, ministers, and staff at Southwest for their love and shepherding. It is an honor to be their friends. And mostly, we are thankful to the Lord for His transforming work in us and in His church.
With the Love and Affection of Christ, the Guillos
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Risky Business
Risks are not to be evaluated in terms of the probability of success, but in terms of the value of the goal. – Ralph Winter
At this moment I’m sitting in my favorite local coffee shop listening to music by artists I’m unfamiliar with, sipping on a Cape Town Red Tea, and surrounded by young people working on their laptops, studying, iPods plugged in, or hands moving in expressive American Sign Language. Meanwhile our exceptionally pristine home with its freshly washed windows, cleaned out closets, uncluttered shelves, and gleaming faucets is entertaining potential buyers.
But I’m not here because the house is being shown. It’s Wednesday night, and I intended on coming here anyway. Selling our home and going to places where people hang out are just two aspects of this phase of my journey. Organic (natural, simple, reproducible) church planter Neil Cole points out that most Christians are trying hard to figure out how to bring lost people to Jesus, but instead we should be bringing Jesus to lost people. I’m still learning what that looks like, but am pretty sure it means less time in a comfortable church environment and more time in culture.
But that’s only the intro to where I’m going with this particular post. This whole journey God’s leading me on feels dadgum risky. I mean, honestly, I’m about as traditional as a middle aged mom/school teacher/Okie born and raised in the Bible-belt can be. For crying out loud, I say “dadgum.” And “for crying out loud.”
To make matters worse, Bob’s giving up his ministry job to go back to school fulltime in order to re-enter the general workforce where people who don’t know Jesus are. We’re downsizing as fast as we can, but my human eyes still can’t see how our finances are going to work out.
And we know nothing but traditional church culture. Sundays at 9:30. Potlucks. Sermons. Roll the Gospel Chariot Along.
Frankly, this whole deal is absolutely crazy. We’re likely to fail. Miserably. Go down in a firey, bankrupt, spiritually-isolated crash.
But that’s only the human me talking. The part that walks by sight.
The part that walks by faith knows it doesn’t matter. The goal is worth it. God’s called us to reach people for the cause of Christ. For salvation. For the best way to live. Because he loves them. Because he knows we love them, too.
So while my mind sometimes thinks too much, my heart leaps at the thought of what God’s called us to do. All the learning, and failures, and lifestyle changes, and painful personal transformation ahead of us are nothing compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord and sharing in his mission to the world.
Honestly, I'm fairly sure everything we think he's going to do will look completely different than what we're thinking right now. People may very well say with a great deal of head-shaking, "Oh, those foolish Guillo's. They went off half-cocked, jumping into something they knew nothing about. And look at them now."
And that's okay, too. Because the goal is worth every bit of the risk.
At this moment I’m sitting in my favorite local coffee shop listening to music by artists I’m unfamiliar with, sipping on a Cape Town Red Tea, and surrounded by young people working on their laptops, studying, iPods plugged in, or hands moving in expressive American Sign Language. Meanwhile our exceptionally pristine home with its freshly washed windows, cleaned out closets, uncluttered shelves, and gleaming faucets is entertaining potential buyers.
But I’m not here because the house is being shown. It’s Wednesday night, and I intended on coming here anyway. Selling our home and going to places where people hang out are just two aspects of this phase of my journey. Organic (natural, simple, reproducible) church planter Neil Cole points out that most Christians are trying hard to figure out how to bring lost people to Jesus, but instead we should be bringing Jesus to lost people. I’m still learning what that looks like, but am pretty sure it means less time in a comfortable church environment and more time in culture.
But that’s only the intro to where I’m going with this particular post. This whole journey God’s leading me on feels dadgum risky. I mean, honestly, I’m about as traditional as a middle aged mom/school teacher/Okie born and raised in the Bible-belt can be. For crying out loud, I say “dadgum.” And “for crying out loud.”
To make matters worse, Bob’s giving up his ministry job to go back to school fulltime in order to re-enter the general workforce where people who don’t know Jesus are. We’re downsizing as fast as we can, but my human eyes still can’t see how our finances are going to work out.
And we know nothing but traditional church culture. Sundays at 9:30. Potlucks. Sermons. Roll the Gospel Chariot Along.
Frankly, this whole deal is absolutely crazy. We’re likely to fail. Miserably. Go down in a firey, bankrupt, spiritually-isolated crash.
But that’s only the human me talking. The part that walks by sight.
The part that walks by faith knows it doesn’t matter. The goal is worth it. God’s called us to reach people for the cause of Christ. For salvation. For the best way to live. Because he loves them. Because he knows we love them, too.
So while my mind sometimes thinks too much, my heart leaps at the thought of what God’s called us to do. All the learning, and failures, and lifestyle changes, and painful personal transformation ahead of us are nothing compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord and sharing in his mission to the world.
Honestly, I'm fairly sure everything we think he's going to do will look completely different than what we're thinking right now. People may very well say with a great deal of head-shaking, "Oh, those foolish Guillo's. They went off half-cocked, jumping into something they knew nothing about. And look at them now."
And that's okay, too. Because the goal is worth every bit of the risk.
Friday, May 04, 2007
How to Vote
Concerning the Dos Santos family, please go to www.cbsnews.com. Click on "Assignment America" on the left sidebar. Choose story #2, "Old-school Cobbler." You may vote only once, so please send these instructions to folks who will help. Votes must be registered by midnight (Eastern time) Saturday night, May 5.
Thanks, friends!
Thanks, friends!
Please help the Dos Santos family with your vote
Loved Ones,
Alvaro Dos Santos is the man who began the orphan feeding centers in Zimbabwe that I visited last fall. As you may recall, I'm establishing an overseeing board to monitor the collection of funds here in the US and distribution in Zimbabwe, as well as writing to help raise awareness and support of the feeding network Alvaro funded from his own pocket for many years. I know Alvaro and his family personally. He is trying to obtain a US Green Card/Visa and will be featured briefly on the CBS evening news tonight, Friday May 4th. Please read below for more information and instructions on how to "vote" for his story to receive more national news.
Thanks! Caron
From Alvaro:
Please forward to all the people you know and ask them to please watch vote for us.--Alvaro and Debbie Dos Santos
The following was written by another friend of the Dos Santos family:
Alvaro Lima Dos Santos is currently trying to get a visa/Green Card so that he can stay in the United States. He was forced to leave his adopted home country of Zimbabwe by the current government there. Since he is a white person who owned property and a successful shoe making business he is no longer allowed to live in Zimbabwe. With help from members of a church in Amarillo Texas, Alvaro was able to come to the United States on a temporary work visa. Currently he and his family are living in Abilene Texas. He has been able to put his skills a custom shoemaker to good use making custom shoes for people who cannot find shoes to fit their uniquely shaped feet. He is one of a very few making medical grade custom shoes in Texas. Friday May 4th on the CBS evening news (5.30pm CSDT) there will be a short clip about Alvaro and his problems with obtaining a visa. It will be one of three human interest type clips. The audience will be given a chance to vote on which of the three clips they would like to know more about and have a national reporter interview. Please watch the evening news Friday May 4th 2007 and then vote for Alvaro.
Alvaro Dos Santos is the man who began the orphan feeding centers in Zimbabwe that I visited last fall. As you may recall, I'm establishing an overseeing board to monitor the collection of funds here in the US and distribution in Zimbabwe, as well as writing to help raise awareness and support of the feeding network Alvaro funded from his own pocket for many years. I know Alvaro and his family personally. He is trying to obtain a US Green Card/Visa and will be featured briefly on the CBS evening news tonight, Friday May 4th. Please read below for more information and instructions on how to "vote" for his story to receive more national news.
Thanks! Caron
From Alvaro:
Please forward to all the people you know and ask them to please watch vote for us.--Alvaro and Debbie Dos Santos
The following was written by another friend of the Dos Santos family:
Alvaro Lima Dos Santos is currently trying to get a visa/Green Card so that he can stay in the United States. He was forced to leave his adopted home country of Zimbabwe by the current government there. Since he is a white person who owned property and a successful shoe making business he is no longer allowed to live in Zimbabwe. With help from members of a church in Amarillo Texas, Alvaro was able to come to the United States on a temporary work visa. Currently he and his family are living in Abilene Texas. He has been able to put his skills a custom shoemaker to good use making custom shoes for people who cannot find shoes to fit their uniquely shaped feet. He is one of a very few making medical grade custom shoes in Texas. Friday May 4th on the CBS evening news (5.30pm CSDT) there will be a short clip about Alvaro and his problems with obtaining a visa. It will be one of three human interest type clips. The audience will be given a chance to vote on which of the three clips they would like to know more about and have a national reporter interview. Please watch the evening news Friday May 4th 2007 and then vote for Alvaro.
Friday, April 27, 2007
What We Know
Each of us has a mission in life . . . we were sent into the world by God, just as Jesus was. Once we start living our lives with that conviction, we will soon know what we were sent to do. –Henri Nouwen
If you’ve kept up with my blog at all, you most likely know that God has been stirring transformation in my heart and my husband’s heart for a long time. The process has been long and confusing and exhilarating and painful and life-giving.
The Lord has had to work hard, stripping us of our insecurities and the things we feel secure in, but shouldn’t. He’s brought failure when we were sure of success; success when we expected nothing but failure. He’s torn down our thoughts about what ministry looks like for us and built us back up with a greater sensitivity to his definition of what ministry looks like for us.
Largely, this has been a terrifying experience. We’ve questioned our sanity, our faith—and, in retrospect, what seems a bit maudlin even to us—our place in the whole scheme of things. But keep in mind, we often felt desperate. We weren’t sure of anything anymore, except, of course, God himself.
Late last year, when the questions were still swirling, but the answers were beginning to take shape, we came up with a document that began like this:
Things we know about us:
We must be missional. We must recognize that North America is a mission field because of its cultural and spiritual diversity and its distance from Christian foundations. We must learn to interpret and engage popular culture. We are compelled to discover fresh ways to communicate the gospel to those outside of our traditional church culture, much like a foreign missionary must learn how to communicate the good news in ways that make sense to those in his mission field. We must go where not-yet-Christians are rather than finding refuge within our church culture and comfort zones.
We must be incarnational. We must enter culture as Christ’s representatives. It’s critical that we are a legitimate part of culture, doing our best to remove all barriers to the gospel other than the gospel itself. Some of these barriers would be the language, habits, practices, and “culture” of Christendom. The message of Christ will present a barrier that cannot be removed.
We must pray. We must ask the Lord to show us where he is already working on the hearts of people. We must ask him to lead us to men and women “of peace.” We must pray that the Lord will send out harvesters into his harvest field (Luke 10:2b). We must ask him to reveal the work he is calling us to do.
We must be constantly transforming, submitting ourselves to the work of the Holy Spirit in us as he fashions us into the image of Christ. This work is founded upon our knowing Christ through the Scriptures, prayer, and personal experience.
We must become church-planters. We must evangelize through multiplication, not addition. Our culture requires saturation church planting in differing contexts and to differing groups. House or “simple” churches may be a cost-efficient and effective strategy, depending upon the local cultural climate.
I will spare you the rest of the four-page document because it gets thick with research and statistics and mumbo-jumbo terminology, eventually devolving (or evolving?) into more questions.
Suffice it to say, as I worded in a recent email some of you may have received, the most profound result of God’s work in us has been in the clarity of His call to church planting. Specifically, we are passionate about reaching people who might never consider walking through the doors of a traditional church.
With the blessing, shepherding, and encouragement of the ministry staff and elders of our congregation, we’re embarking on a journey that appears to be taking us out of fulltime paid ministry and into self-supporting church planting. We see that most likely taking place in the context of establishing house church networks, though we are open to the Lord's leading in this regard.
While we don't know exactly how this will play out, we know that we’ll be phasing out of Bob's staff position at Southwest by the end of the summer. We’re praying for God’s continued guidance and clarity as he directs us into this next stage of ministry, preparing us to engage a segment of culture that may be asking spiritual questions, but can’t yet imagine Christ is the answer.
We have a mission in life . . . like every Christ-follower, we were sent into the world by God, just as Jesus was. We’ve started banking everything on that conviction. We know what we were sent to do.
If you’ve kept up with my blog at all, you most likely know that God has been stirring transformation in my heart and my husband’s heart for a long time. The process has been long and confusing and exhilarating and painful and life-giving.
The Lord has had to work hard, stripping us of our insecurities and the things we feel secure in, but shouldn’t. He’s brought failure when we were sure of success; success when we expected nothing but failure. He’s torn down our thoughts about what ministry looks like for us and built us back up with a greater sensitivity to his definition of what ministry looks like for us.
Largely, this has been a terrifying experience. We’ve questioned our sanity, our faith—and, in retrospect, what seems a bit maudlin even to us—our place in the whole scheme of things. But keep in mind, we often felt desperate. We weren’t sure of anything anymore, except, of course, God himself.
Late last year, when the questions were still swirling, but the answers were beginning to take shape, we came up with a document that began like this:
Things we know about us:
We must be missional. We must recognize that North America is a mission field because of its cultural and spiritual diversity and its distance from Christian foundations. We must learn to interpret and engage popular culture. We are compelled to discover fresh ways to communicate the gospel to those outside of our traditional church culture, much like a foreign missionary must learn how to communicate the good news in ways that make sense to those in his mission field. We must go where not-yet-Christians are rather than finding refuge within our church culture and comfort zones.
We must be incarnational. We must enter culture as Christ’s representatives. It’s critical that we are a legitimate part of culture, doing our best to remove all barriers to the gospel other than the gospel itself. Some of these barriers would be the language, habits, practices, and “culture” of Christendom. The message of Christ will present a barrier that cannot be removed.
We must pray. We must ask the Lord to show us where he is already working on the hearts of people. We must ask him to lead us to men and women “of peace.” We must pray that the Lord will send out harvesters into his harvest field (Luke 10:2b). We must ask him to reveal the work he is calling us to do.
We must be constantly transforming, submitting ourselves to the work of the Holy Spirit in us as he fashions us into the image of Christ. This work is founded upon our knowing Christ through the Scriptures, prayer, and personal experience.
We must become church-planters. We must evangelize through multiplication, not addition. Our culture requires saturation church planting in differing contexts and to differing groups. House or “simple” churches may be a cost-efficient and effective strategy, depending upon the local cultural climate.
I will spare you the rest of the four-page document because it gets thick with research and statistics and mumbo-jumbo terminology, eventually devolving (or evolving?) into more questions.
Suffice it to say, as I worded in a recent email some of you may have received, the most profound result of God’s work in us has been in the clarity of His call to church planting. Specifically, we are passionate about reaching people who might never consider walking through the doors of a traditional church.
With the blessing, shepherding, and encouragement of the ministry staff and elders of our congregation, we’re embarking on a journey that appears to be taking us out of fulltime paid ministry and into self-supporting church planting. We see that most likely taking place in the context of establishing house church networks, though we are open to the Lord's leading in this regard.
While we don't know exactly how this will play out, we know that we’ll be phasing out of Bob's staff position at Southwest by the end of the summer. We’re praying for God’s continued guidance and clarity as he directs us into this next stage of ministry, preparing us to engage a segment of culture that may be asking spiritual questions, but can’t yet imagine Christ is the answer.
We have a mission in life . . . like every Christ-follower, we were sent into the world by God, just as Jesus was. We’ve started banking everything on that conviction. We know what we were sent to do.
Monday, April 09, 2007
I wonder . . .
I spent the better part of today in a jury pool for a criminal felony trial. I’d never been called to serve on a jury, and while the process was not exactly exciting, I felt the potential weight of sitting in judgment over someone’s future. The defendant was present in the courtroom during the entire selection process. A real person. A real life.
In the end, I was dismissed. Nineteen possible jurors before me were struck from the jury. The man in line immediately before me, so to speak, was the last of twelve jurors chosen. Mostly, I felt relieved that my week wasn’t to be spent in the courtroom judging someone to be guilty or not guilty. But I also felt a bit disappointed that God’s commission to me as a truth-seeker would not be used in this quest for a fair and just decision.
The alleged victim wasn’t in the courtroom today. But his/her life, his/her future, is--in a sense--just as real and in the balance.
Truth. Justice. Guilt. Judgment.
Today I sat in that courtroom hurting for the victims in this world. And I hurt for the true criminals who are victims of the rulers, the authorities, the powers of this dark world and the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. I grieved that so few know Truth. Life. Freedom.
And I couldn’t help thinking how liberally we dish out judgment every day regarding people or events we really know nothing about. Oftentimes, we’re so far removed from what’s actually happening in people’s lives and in their hearts, that we have no problem assigning guilt. Or leaving them to face the consequences they’ve reaped for themselves. Or turning our backs on the cries of a world soaked in sin and despair. The people simply aren’t real to us.
I wonder how different our days, our passions, our efforts would look if we took the time to consider that every bit of strife and suffering around us is happening to real people. Not to headlines or tidbits on the evening news. Real people. And I wonder what God might do with a community of believers truly devoted to bringing the Christ-life to the world around them.
I wonder what that looks like for me. How my life will have to change. How costly that will be. How meaningful.
I wonder . . .
In the end, I was dismissed. Nineteen possible jurors before me were struck from the jury. The man in line immediately before me, so to speak, was the last of twelve jurors chosen. Mostly, I felt relieved that my week wasn’t to be spent in the courtroom judging someone to be guilty or not guilty. But I also felt a bit disappointed that God’s commission to me as a truth-seeker would not be used in this quest for a fair and just decision.
The alleged victim wasn’t in the courtroom today. But his/her life, his/her future, is--in a sense--just as real and in the balance.
Truth. Justice. Guilt. Judgment.
Today I sat in that courtroom hurting for the victims in this world. And I hurt for the true criminals who are victims of the rulers, the authorities, the powers of this dark world and the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. I grieved that so few know Truth. Life. Freedom.
And I couldn’t help thinking how liberally we dish out judgment every day regarding people or events we really know nothing about. Oftentimes, we’re so far removed from what’s actually happening in people’s lives and in their hearts, that we have no problem assigning guilt. Or leaving them to face the consequences they’ve reaped for themselves. Or turning our backs on the cries of a world soaked in sin and despair. The people simply aren’t real to us.
I wonder how different our days, our passions, our efforts would look if we took the time to consider that every bit of strife and suffering around us is happening to real people. Not to headlines or tidbits on the evening news. Real people. And I wonder what God might do with a community of believers truly devoted to bringing the Christ-life to the world around them.
I wonder what that looks like for me. How my life will have to change. How costly that will be. How meaningful.
I wonder . . .
Monday, March 26, 2007
Moments
Last week one of my coworkers found her husband collapsed on the floor. She buried him two days ago . . .
A few days back our youngest son broke his arm trying to do a good deed. He’ll have surgery tomorrow to fix it . . .
In January, one of my sisters-in-law found a lump in her breast. She’s now facing reconstructive surgery after a mastectomy ten days ago . . .
A week and a half ago my neighbor’s daughter died . . .
Last Monday I discovered water soaking the wall and floor in my laundry room. On Tuesday, the kitchen sink backed up. On Wednesday, the plumber took our check . . .
I got a phone call today from our health care provider. The amount not covered by our insurance is obscene . . .
Sometimes I’m overwhelmed by how dramatically things can change in a single moment. A birth. A death. An accident. A bill. Bad news. We go tootling along, thinking everything’s just hunky-dory, and then something happens. Just like that.
Funny how often we see those unexpected moments as interruptions to our lives. We moan and complain and begrudge them. But our lives are made up of these moments. They remind us of the value of life, give depth to our joys, and fine tune our hearts for something beyond today.
Abundance is not nearly so satisfying without having experienced poverty. Health is largely unappreciated unless we have known sickness. Peace is not as sweet to the soul unless we have lived through turmoil. Pleasure is dulled without pain. Gladness weakened without sorrow.
We struggle and strain against the tough moments of our lives, and yet they are the very instances that refine us. I pray that God will empower me to receive the moments he’s ordained for me in faith and with thanksgiving. One of my favorite songs is Blessed Be Your Name, a beautiful reminder that in plenty or in want, God is to be praised. In sunshine or in darkness, I can still choose to trust Him.
When we remember to trust Him, then these moments will not win, for they will have been swallowed up in Christ’s victory. They will not defeat, but instead make us stronger. They will not crush us, but be held lightly by us—a vapor, a mist, a fleeting thing in the span of eternity.
With peace in our hearts, faith in our souls, and a light in our eyes we can face these moments. We can walk gracefully and bravely and purposefully through them. And we can treasure every easy moment with the kind of gratitude and joy that gives God the greatest glory.
A few days back our youngest son broke his arm trying to do a good deed. He’ll have surgery tomorrow to fix it . . .
In January, one of my sisters-in-law found a lump in her breast. She’s now facing reconstructive surgery after a mastectomy ten days ago . . .
A week and a half ago my neighbor’s daughter died . . .
Last Monday I discovered water soaking the wall and floor in my laundry room. On Tuesday, the kitchen sink backed up. On Wednesday, the plumber took our check . . .
I got a phone call today from our health care provider. The amount not covered by our insurance is obscene . . .
Sometimes I’m overwhelmed by how dramatically things can change in a single moment. A birth. A death. An accident. A bill. Bad news. We go tootling along, thinking everything’s just hunky-dory, and then something happens. Just like that.
Funny how often we see those unexpected moments as interruptions to our lives. We moan and complain and begrudge them. But our lives are made up of these moments. They remind us of the value of life, give depth to our joys, and fine tune our hearts for something beyond today.
Abundance is not nearly so satisfying without having experienced poverty. Health is largely unappreciated unless we have known sickness. Peace is not as sweet to the soul unless we have lived through turmoil. Pleasure is dulled without pain. Gladness weakened without sorrow.
We struggle and strain against the tough moments of our lives, and yet they are the very instances that refine us. I pray that God will empower me to receive the moments he’s ordained for me in faith and with thanksgiving. One of my favorite songs is Blessed Be Your Name, a beautiful reminder that in plenty or in want, God is to be praised. In sunshine or in darkness, I can still choose to trust Him.
When we remember to trust Him, then these moments will not win, for they will have been swallowed up in Christ’s victory. They will not defeat, but instead make us stronger. They will not crush us, but be held lightly by us—a vapor, a mist, a fleeting thing in the span of eternity.
With peace in our hearts, faith in our souls, and a light in our eyes we can face these moments. We can walk gracefully and bravely and purposefully through them. And we can treasure every easy moment with the kind of gratitude and joy that gives God the greatest glory.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Un-tired
For several days I’ve been trying to gather my thoughts in order to write about how tired I am. How tired all the women are that I’ve talked to lately. How we seem to just run ourselves ragged, and for what?
But then a strange thing happened. I began to feel un-tired.
Partly, that’s because I took half the day off yesterday. Many of you know I’m employed by the school district to work four mornings a week, but if you’re a woman, then you realize that’s only a drop in the bucket of my responsibilities.
Yesterday, after preparing bruschetta for the international food festival in Caleb’s social studies class, helping to serve/clean up, then having an early lunch with one of my former coworkers at the school, I took the rest of the day off. Well, except for using the wet-vac to suction the water out of the toilet bowl so it could be removed (we’re tiling the bathroom this weekend) and making a light dinner and taking care of some Line of Departure business. You know how it goes. But I spent most of the day and evening reading or spending time with my family. I even took a 45-minute walk by myself (deep, contented sigh here).
But the main reason I began to feel un-tired, is because I took time to really think about how I spend my days. Let me back up.
Two years ago I put myself on a 6-month sabbatical from almost all outside responsibilities. I focused on taking care of my home and family and working through some personal and spiritual matters. In many ways it was excruciating, but at the end of the six months, I knew I wasn’t going back to the trap I’d fallen into before—saying yes, because I should, rather than saying yes because I was passionate about something.
Sounds good, right? But as a result, a year ago I found myself without much direction. I felt rather purposeless and, well, alone. I seemed to have discovered that there wasn’t much use for what I was passionate about . . . or at least very little outlet for me to use my particular gifts. I apparently saw the world with different glasses and had passions and interests that weren’t very practical. I felt pretty low and insignificant until I realized that God, alone, was enough for me (see my October 17, 18 & 21, 2006 posts for more on that).
So this week, as I considered complaining about why I’m so tired, I realized that I’m worn out with blessings. God has given me outlets for my passions. Yes, I need balance. Yes, I need regular solitude that I don’t often make time for. Yes, there are deadlines—deadlines I’ve usually imposed on myself. But the truth is that I’m deeply satisfied. And I’m thriving. I’m living intentionally, and it’s making a difference in people’s lives.
And you know what? I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s good for a woman to collapse in bed at the end of the day because she’s been living outside herself. It’s good when she’s exhausted because she’s been tending her family the best way she knows how. It’s good when she’s bone weary because she’s been working her job as if she was working for the Lord.
All these things are good and pure and noble and praiseworthy.
However, I highly recommend the occasional day off.
But then a strange thing happened. I began to feel un-tired.
Partly, that’s because I took half the day off yesterday. Many of you know I’m employed by the school district to work four mornings a week, but if you’re a woman, then you realize that’s only a drop in the bucket of my responsibilities.
Yesterday, after preparing bruschetta for the international food festival in Caleb’s social studies class, helping to serve/clean up, then having an early lunch with one of my former coworkers at the school, I took the rest of the day off. Well, except for using the wet-vac to suction the water out of the toilet bowl so it could be removed (we’re tiling the bathroom this weekend) and making a light dinner and taking care of some Line of Departure business. You know how it goes. But I spent most of the day and evening reading or spending time with my family. I even took a 45-minute walk by myself (deep, contented sigh here).
But the main reason I began to feel un-tired, is because I took time to really think about how I spend my days. Let me back up.
Two years ago I put myself on a 6-month sabbatical from almost all outside responsibilities. I focused on taking care of my home and family and working through some personal and spiritual matters. In many ways it was excruciating, but at the end of the six months, I knew I wasn’t going back to the trap I’d fallen into before—saying yes, because I should, rather than saying yes because I was passionate about something.
Sounds good, right? But as a result, a year ago I found myself without much direction. I felt rather purposeless and, well, alone. I seemed to have discovered that there wasn’t much use for what I was passionate about . . . or at least very little outlet for me to use my particular gifts. I apparently saw the world with different glasses and had passions and interests that weren’t very practical. I felt pretty low and insignificant until I realized that God, alone, was enough for me (see my October 17, 18 & 21, 2006 posts for more on that).
So this week, as I considered complaining about why I’m so tired, I realized that I’m worn out with blessings. God has given me outlets for my passions. Yes, I need balance. Yes, I need regular solitude that I don’t often make time for. Yes, there are deadlines—deadlines I’ve usually imposed on myself. But the truth is that I’m deeply satisfied. And I’m thriving. I’m living intentionally, and it’s making a difference in people’s lives.
And you know what? I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s good for a woman to collapse in bed at the end of the day because she’s been living outside herself. It’s good when she’s exhausted because she’s been tending her family the best way she knows how. It’s good when she’s bone weary because she’s been working her job as if she was working for the Lord.
All these things are good and pure and noble and praiseworthy.
However, I highly recommend the occasional day off.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Swirling
Lately my mind has been filled with tons of thoughts on love, redemption, forgiveness, and transformation. So much so, in fact, that my mind has been swirling, and I’m having trouble settling on one topic to post.
I’m halfway through the final book in Ted Dekker’s Circle trilogy, a mind-boggling, thought-provoking, adrenaline-inducing series of what-ifs. What if this earth isn’t the only reality? What if Jesus is the groom who romances every living soul? What if we are to become like those around us in order to help woo them into this Great Romance? Solid Bible concepts all around, though a little startling, perhaps, if taken out of context.
And here are a few of my own what-ifs, part of my swirling thoughts that somehow have nothing to do with, and everything to do with, the notions highlighted in the Circle trilogy.
What if there are times God intends for us to feel peaceful and tumultuous all at once?
What if the things that seem to discourage us are ultimately meant to give us courage?
What if most of the things we’ve thought made sense actually make no sense at all?
What if the things we think make no sense, make more sense than anything else?
What if Jesus really means we must die to ourselves, take up our crosses, and follow him?
What if we are to live that lifestyle out in more literal ways than we’ve ever considered?
What if, above all else, Jesus really meant it when he said that everything we do and believe and teach should be summed up in loving God and loving others?
So there you have it. A few of my thoughts as they’ve been tumbling around in my own brain, swirling down to my heart, toying with my conscience and imagination.
I’m halfway through the final book in Ted Dekker’s Circle trilogy, a mind-boggling, thought-provoking, adrenaline-inducing series of what-ifs. What if this earth isn’t the only reality? What if Jesus is the groom who romances every living soul? What if we are to become like those around us in order to help woo them into this Great Romance? Solid Bible concepts all around, though a little startling, perhaps, if taken out of context.
And here are a few of my own what-ifs, part of my swirling thoughts that somehow have nothing to do with, and everything to do with, the notions highlighted in the Circle trilogy.
What if there are times God intends for us to feel peaceful and tumultuous all at once?
What if the things that seem to discourage us are ultimately meant to give us courage?
What if most of the things we’ve thought made sense actually make no sense at all?
What if the things we think make no sense, make more sense than anything else?
What if Jesus really means we must die to ourselves, take up our crosses, and follow him?
What if we are to live that lifestyle out in more literal ways than we’ve ever considered?
What if, above all else, Jesus really meant it when he said that everything we do and believe and teach should be summed up in loving God and loving others?
So there you have it. A few of my thoughts as they’ve been tumbling around in my own brain, swirling down to my heart, toying with my conscience and imagination.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Catching Turtles
Almost two years ago I sat on a deck overlooking the Sabinal River in the Texas Hill Country and watched platter-sized turtles swimming at the surface of the pea green water then diving out of sight. I was contemplative and introspective and for some strange reason I suddenly felt compelled to jump in and catch one.
I didn’t. That would’ve been ridiculous. I was fully dressed. I’d curled my hair. I was forty-two.
And what would I have done with a turtle had I caught it?
Instead, I tried to figure out why doing so seemed an act of faith. I came up with this short list:
Catching a turtle . . .
. . . made no sense in human terms.
. . . was something I was ill-equipped to do on my own.
. . . was like trying to grasp hold of an elusive dream. Or reaching a far-off goal. Or being faithful to a calling that no one else can discern.
Then I remembered that the church youth group would soon be going on a float trip near San Antonio. And they were planning to catch turtles.
So two weeks later I stood chest-high in the Guadalupe River, water dripping down my face, a turtle grasped in my upraised hands. The four men and teenage boys in my raft were almost as surprised as I was that I actually dove in, scrambled among tree roots at the bank of a snake-infested river, and came up with my very own turtle.
That day I learned that catching turtles . . .
. . . takes a willingness to learn from others who’ve gone before you. My buddy Brian gave me the low-down on the strategy he’d perfected. I listened to every word.
. . . requires team work. Someone has to paddle, someone has to stand up at the front of the raft to scout out the hard-to-spot opportunities, and someone has to dive.
. . . demands patience. Our group caught four turtles that day. We gave up on the spot where a later group caught twenty-three.
. . . tests your courage. Remember the part about snake-infested waters?
. . . calls for determination. Turtles do not want to be caught and are more agile under water than you are. They’re also slippery. The only thing you really have going for you is perseverance.
. . . is exhilarating, if for no other reason than because you’ve proven to yourself that somewhere deep inside you, you have what it takes.
. . . forces you to dive into uncertain territory. You have to feel your way along, risking what's safe and sure to gain what you believe is there.
. . . will probably seem silly to everyone else. Except to those who know what it’s like to catch a turtle.
. . . means that once you’ve caught one, you have to be willing to give it up. River turtles aren’t yours to keep. When the trip is over, you release them.
Those lessons have meant a lot to me since then. And I’m not just talking about turtles. However, if you’re ever interested in catching one, I can share the strategies passed on to me by those who've gone before.
Interested?
I didn’t. That would’ve been ridiculous. I was fully dressed. I’d curled my hair. I was forty-two.
And what would I have done with a turtle had I caught it?
Instead, I tried to figure out why doing so seemed an act of faith. I came up with this short list:
Catching a turtle . . .
. . . made no sense in human terms.
. . . was something I was ill-equipped to do on my own.
. . . was like trying to grasp hold of an elusive dream. Or reaching a far-off goal. Or being faithful to a calling that no one else can discern.
Then I remembered that the church youth group would soon be going on a float trip near San Antonio. And they were planning to catch turtles.
So two weeks later I stood chest-high in the Guadalupe River, water dripping down my face, a turtle grasped in my upraised hands. The four men and teenage boys in my raft were almost as surprised as I was that I actually dove in, scrambled among tree roots at the bank of a snake-infested river, and came up with my very own turtle.
That day I learned that catching turtles . . .
. . . takes a willingness to learn from others who’ve gone before you. My buddy Brian gave me the low-down on the strategy he’d perfected. I listened to every word.
. . . requires team work. Someone has to paddle, someone has to stand up at the front of the raft to scout out the hard-to-spot opportunities, and someone has to dive.
. . . demands patience. Our group caught four turtles that day. We gave up on the spot where a later group caught twenty-three.
. . . tests your courage. Remember the part about snake-infested waters?
. . . calls for determination. Turtles do not want to be caught and are more agile under water than you are. They’re also slippery. The only thing you really have going for you is perseverance.
. . . is exhilarating, if for no other reason than because you’ve proven to yourself that somewhere deep inside you, you have what it takes.
. . . forces you to dive into uncertain territory. You have to feel your way along, risking what's safe and sure to gain what you believe is there.
. . . will probably seem silly to everyone else. Except to those who know what it’s like to catch a turtle.
. . . means that once you’ve caught one, you have to be willing to give it up. River turtles aren’t yours to keep. When the trip is over, you release them.
Those lessons have meant a lot to me since then. And I’m not just talking about turtles. However, if you’re ever interested in catching one, I can share the strategies passed on to me by those who've gone before.
Interested?
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Spiritual Metabolism
Okay. So I’ve put on weight in the past few years. Something about turning 37. That was a while back. I did finally put our free membership at the gym to use a year and a half ago and got toned up, but the scales never budged. I watched my diet, but still the scales didn’t budge.
I’m not an idiot, so I figured out that what I need to do is boost my metabolism. It’s gotten slow in its old age. Shortly thereafter I was on the computer and saw an article that caught my eye: “10 Ways to Boost Your Metabolism.” I clicked on over.
Turns out, I’m doing almost everything right, except that I don’t drink green tea, and I haven’t cut out the sugar. I contemplated my shortcomings over half a dozen miniature white powdered donuts. Then I went out and bought some green tea. I had one cup and remembered why I’ve never cared for it: it tastes like grass. I’ve kept at the other eight ways to boost my metabolism, but I still can’t drop the pounds. You’d think eight out of ten would suffice. That’s four-fifths. I know this because I tutor elementary school math students, and I have to understand these kinds of complicated calculations.
Honestly, though, I realize that sugar is my downfall. That, and cheese, gravies, and biscuits. Plus, I’m a little sketchy on the exercise. I keep thinking that maybe the extra weight isn’t so bad, but I’m only kidding myself.
Funny, how this subject reminds me of my spiritual life sometimes. I think that being too busy to read my Bible or spend significant time in prayer isn’t so bad. That my “close relationship” with God is enough to get me through the week until things slow down. That I can do four-fifths, and that will suffice.
It’s not that I’m into a works-oriented faith, but I do know there are certain choices I can make to boost my spiritual metabolism, so to speak. Things that can optimize my walk of faith. Build spiritual muscle. Burn off the fat that’s accumulated around my mid-section, clogging my arteries, and slowing down the life-giving blood flow to my heart, mind, and soul.
The past six months or so have been pretty intense for me. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually. In fact, my reserves are pretty low. While on the one hand I feel extremely satisfied and content, on the other, I’m worn out. I’m not quite sure how that’s possible, but there you go. Maybe you know what I mean.
I just figure that if physical exercise and discipline can go a long way toward building my physical health—like going to the gym even when I don’t think I have the energy, but feeling much better for having been there—then spiritual exercise and discipline can do the same thing for my soul.
I guess it’s time for a workout. And maybe some green tea.
I’m not an idiot, so I figured out that what I need to do is boost my metabolism. It’s gotten slow in its old age. Shortly thereafter I was on the computer and saw an article that caught my eye: “10 Ways to Boost Your Metabolism.” I clicked on over.
Turns out, I’m doing almost everything right, except that I don’t drink green tea, and I haven’t cut out the sugar. I contemplated my shortcomings over half a dozen miniature white powdered donuts. Then I went out and bought some green tea. I had one cup and remembered why I’ve never cared for it: it tastes like grass. I’ve kept at the other eight ways to boost my metabolism, but I still can’t drop the pounds. You’d think eight out of ten would suffice. That’s four-fifths. I know this because I tutor elementary school math students, and I have to understand these kinds of complicated calculations.
Honestly, though, I realize that sugar is my downfall. That, and cheese, gravies, and biscuits. Plus, I’m a little sketchy on the exercise. I keep thinking that maybe the extra weight isn’t so bad, but I’m only kidding myself.
Funny, how this subject reminds me of my spiritual life sometimes. I think that being too busy to read my Bible or spend significant time in prayer isn’t so bad. That my “close relationship” with God is enough to get me through the week until things slow down. That I can do four-fifths, and that will suffice.
It’s not that I’m into a works-oriented faith, but I do know there are certain choices I can make to boost my spiritual metabolism, so to speak. Things that can optimize my walk of faith. Build spiritual muscle. Burn off the fat that’s accumulated around my mid-section, clogging my arteries, and slowing down the life-giving blood flow to my heart, mind, and soul.
The past six months or so have been pretty intense for me. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually. In fact, my reserves are pretty low. While on the one hand I feel extremely satisfied and content, on the other, I’m worn out. I’m not quite sure how that’s possible, but there you go. Maybe you know what I mean.
I just figure that if physical exercise and discipline can go a long way toward building my physical health—like going to the gym even when I don’t think I have the energy, but feeling much better for having been there—then spiritual exercise and discipline can do the same thing for my soul.
I guess it’s time for a workout. And maybe some green tea.
Monday, February 05, 2007
A Point of Clarification
I've had so many comments on the blog and privately about my synesthesia, that I feel compelled to clarify a couple of things.
In my opinion--and there will be many synesthetes (apparently the current lingo) who disagree, probably because we humans tend to need something to "make us special"--I don't think this peculiar little thing makes me more creative than anyone else. I've seen online lists of "famous" synesthetes, and I've never heard of them. How famous can they be? There are many wildly famous artists, writers, composers, etc. who aren't synesthetes. I don't think synesthesia necessarily gives us an edge.
Secondly, novel plots aside, I don't think synesthesia is something someone has to learn to "cope with." It's not a handicap.
In my lifelong experience, this way of looking at the world neither hinders me nor gives me an advantage. And who in the world cares that "hinders" is a black word and "advantage" is blue? I mean, really.
I'm not sorry I brought it up because, frankly, I think the response it illicits is kind of funny. How delightfully creative God is! But try to remember my point is that we ALL see the world differently from each other in one regard or another.
Thank goodness.
In my opinion--and there will be many synesthetes (apparently the current lingo) who disagree, probably because we humans tend to need something to "make us special"--I don't think this peculiar little thing makes me more creative than anyone else. I've seen online lists of "famous" synesthetes, and I've never heard of them. How famous can they be? There are many wildly famous artists, writers, composers, etc. who aren't synesthetes. I don't think synesthesia necessarily gives us an edge.
Secondly, novel plots aside, I don't think synesthesia is something someone has to learn to "cope with." It's not a handicap.
In my lifelong experience, this way of looking at the world neither hinders me nor gives me an advantage. And who in the world cares that "hinders" is a black word and "advantage" is blue? I mean, really.
I'm not sorry I brought it up because, frankly, I think the response it illicits is kind of funny. How delightfully creative God is! But try to remember my point is that we ALL see the world differently from each other in one regard or another.
Thank goodness.
Friday, February 02, 2007
My Life as a Synesthetist
I am a synesthetist.
There, I said it. Actually, I’ve been saying it ever since I read an article in Smithsonian Magazine a few years ago and discovered that most people don’t see things the way I do and that there’s a word for the way people like me perceive the world: synesthesia.
It’s very difficult to explain, and if you’re like most folks, you’re going to think I’m nuts, but here goes. Borrowing from a scholarly article, “The word synesthesia, meaning ‘joined sensation,’ shares a root with anaesthesia, meaning ‘no sensation.’ It denotes the rare capacity to hear colours, taste shapes, or experience other equally startling sensory blendings whose quality seems difficult for most of us to imagine. A synesthete might describe the colour, shape, and flavour of someone’s voice, or music whose sound looks like ‘shards of glass,’ a scintillation of jagged, coloured triangles moving in the visual field. Or, seeing the colour red, a synesthete might detect the ‘scent’ of red as well.”
There you have it. My synesthesia is mostly connected to letters and numbers—I see them as certain colors. Time is influenced, too. Time has a particular shape for me, playing out something like an enormous game board that you move through, taking definite twists and turns. Sometimes when I’m trying to remember a date, I just “peek around the corner” of that game board and there it is.
I’m digging myself in deep, aren’t I?
I bring this phenomenon up from time to time because someone will say something that makes me think they just might be a synesthetist, too. In all honesty, I find it hard to comprehend that everyone doesn’t see the world this way.
Until I read that article, I never, ever discussed these things with anyone. Not because I was embarrassed or thought it was weird, but because I assumed everyone experienced things my way. My oldest son is a synesthetist, too. I knew this because a decade before I read that magazine, he once asked me in preface to something he wanted to comment on, “Mom, you know how “a” is red?”
“It’s blue, honey,” I corrected. “But go ahead . . . .”
See, that’s just it. Synesthetism is different for every person.
I have to confess I feel irritated when I hear the song by Christian artist Chris Rice entitled “Smell the Color Nine.” It’s all about the complexities of God, and the chorus goes something like: “But sometimes finding you is just like trying to smell the color nine. But nine's not a color. And even if it were you can't smell a color."
It’s purple. Duh. And I guarantee some people can smell it.
I could go on and on about why I choose certain words to express certain things. Grey with an “e” is that kind of sick tornado sky color, “e” being green. Gray with an “a” is the color of a storm at sea, “a” being blue. Do not ask me to spell it one way consistently. It totally depends on the actual shade I’m writing about. Why is the word “excruciating” the best word in some instances and “agonizing” the best in others? Or how do I choose to use "delighted" over "joyful"? It often depends on what color looks best in the sentence. “U” changes everything, by the way.
Laugh if you will, but I really have a point to all this.
As we journey through life, every person we meet—synesthetist or otherwise—has their own perspective on things. Right or wrong, they see things from a vantage point that feels as real as our own. While I believe that all truth is found in God, much of what we judge each other on or argue with each other about is simply our own perception of what is true or important. Maybe that's why He tells us to show His grace toward one another and let Him do the judging.
And just so you know, “s” is red. At least to me.
There, I said it. Actually, I’ve been saying it ever since I read an article in Smithsonian Magazine a few years ago and discovered that most people don’t see things the way I do and that there’s a word for the way people like me perceive the world: synesthesia.
It’s very difficult to explain, and if you’re like most folks, you’re going to think I’m nuts, but here goes. Borrowing from a scholarly article, “The word synesthesia, meaning ‘joined sensation,’ shares a root with anaesthesia, meaning ‘no sensation.’ It denotes the rare capacity to hear colours, taste shapes, or experience other equally startling sensory blendings whose quality seems difficult for most of us to imagine. A synesthete might describe the colour, shape, and flavour of someone’s voice, or music whose sound looks like ‘shards of glass,’ a scintillation of jagged, coloured triangles moving in the visual field. Or, seeing the colour red, a synesthete might detect the ‘scent’ of red as well.”
There you have it. My synesthesia is mostly connected to letters and numbers—I see them as certain colors. Time is influenced, too. Time has a particular shape for me, playing out something like an enormous game board that you move through, taking definite twists and turns. Sometimes when I’m trying to remember a date, I just “peek around the corner” of that game board and there it is.
I’m digging myself in deep, aren’t I?
I bring this phenomenon up from time to time because someone will say something that makes me think they just might be a synesthetist, too. In all honesty, I find it hard to comprehend that everyone doesn’t see the world this way.
Until I read that article, I never, ever discussed these things with anyone. Not because I was embarrassed or thought it was weird, but because I assumed everyone experienced things my way. My oldest son is a synesthetist, too. I knew this because a decade before I read that magazine, he once asked me in preface to something he wanted to comment on, “Mom, you know how “a” is red?”
“It’s blue, honey,” I corrected. “But go ahead . . . .”
See, that’s just it. Synesthetism is different for every person.
I have to confess I feel irritated when I hear the song by Christian artist Chris Rice entitled “Smell the Color Nine.” It’s all about the complexities of God, and the chorus goes something like: “But sometimes finding you is just like trying to smell the color nine. But nine's not a color. And even if it were you can't smell a color."
It’s purple. Duh. And I guarantee some people can smell it.
I could go on and on about why I choose certain words to express certain things. Grey with an “e” is that kind of sick tornado sky color, “e” being green. Gray with an “a” is the color of a storm at sea, “a” being blue. Do not ask me to spell it one way consistently. It totally depends on the actual shade I’m writing about. Why is the word “excruciating” the best word in some instances and “agonizing” the best in others? Or how do I choose to use "delighted" over "joyful"? It often depends on what color looks best in the sentence. “U” changes everything, by the way.
Laugh if you will, but I really have a point to all this.
As we journey through life, every person we meet—synesthetist or otherwise—has their own perspective on things. Right or wrong, they see things from a vantage point that feels as real as our own. While I believe that all truth is found in God, much of what we judge each other on or argue with each other about is simply our own perception of what is true or important. Maybe that's why He tells us to show His grace toward one another and let Him do the judging.
And just so you know, “s” is red. At least to me.
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