Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Mountains and Valleys (2nd of 2 new posts today)


Location: Train seat number 75 en route to Nancy, France from Paris, almost three hours later than planned (9pm on 30 June)

I know I just wrote when I was in the Munich airport, but the day is very different now. Earlier I discussed the importance of emotions. Now they are raw in me, so it is a good time to write.

I arrived in Paris a few minutes late, but otherwise happy. I had met some missionaries finishing up a three year term in Bucharest, Romania of all places, so we got to chat on the way a little, and it was a nice blessing when their little boys yelled hello to me in the Charles de Gaulle Airport. My train to Nancy was an hour later, so I was not worried as I picked up Alfred (my backpack and trusty traveling companion) and headed to the mass transit station.

Unfortunately, things were more difficult than I had expected. I felt very much attacked by the evil one, and I thank those of you who were praying for me. I managed to buy a ticket and get on the right city train, but as it became overcrowed, it seemed to go slower and slower. When I finally reached my stop, I had already missed my train (for which I had purchased an online ticket). The Gard du Nord (one of Paris' four train stations in which I had never been) was far more complex than I had realize, and I literally turned in circles trying to find my way. On top of that, I had only eaten the tiny in-flight sandwiches we were offered, having forgotton the picnic's leftover chicken that was to be my lunch. Furthermore, though I had thought to get my French SIM card (for my cell phone) out and ready, when I put it in, all the phone credit had expired. And the icing on the cake was that it was late enough that there was hardly anyone around to help.

After asking and wandering and wandering and wandering, I finally found the right place for help. To my dismay, the line was longer than any of the trains, and I ended up waiting for about an hour, trying to hold back Alfred from inching forward too much! During that time, I wanted to cry again. Though I mentioned that it is okay and even good to cry, I rarely cry from frustration, and I have to admit that such a display of tears would strike me as not the least bit manly. I did not cry, but here is what I was feeling: I hate traveling, tired, sick of my heavy burden, hungry, worried I would eventually have to go to the restroom, concerned about being unable to call anyone, and thus concerned that my host family in France would be worried and waiting, sweating hot, weary of standing, wishing I had company but glad no one was sharing my misery, sick of the group of teenage girls in front of me, regretting I ever left Romania, and I was unsure of how the night would turn out, be it an expensive hotel or late train or worse.

Though I did not cry, I cried out to God--He is my ever-present help. As I leaned against my last bit of patience, I remembered that He is so great that I can praise Him in the rotten times as well as in the good times. I was also thinking about how I try to remind you that adventure can be awfully lousy while you are going through the midst of it. Except for God, those moments seemed terribly bleak.

Fortunately, I realized that satan was trying to attack me while I was weak and not expecting it. As I prayed, I knew there was hope, even though it did not feel like it. I finally dug out my Romanian SIM card again, and used roaming minutes to call my host family. I eventually made it up to the window, and five Euro later, I had a new train ticket, directions to the Gare de l'Est (the neighboring train station to which I knew I had to go), and even a little bounce in my walk. By the time ten minutes had passed, I had grabbed dinner (fried chicken, in honor of my forgotten lunch) and recharge minutes for my phone. (Over a month ago, I had had the foresight to keep 50 Euro with me for my return to France, knowing I might need it before I could get cash.) Within a half-hour, I was on this train, had charged my phone and called the family, and was sitting down, eating my dinner.

It is amazing how quickly things looked up! You see, when satan attacks, it is smoke and mirrors. Rarely are there serious things wrong, he simply exaggerates and distorts reality to make everything seem overwhelmingly hopeless, and when we believe it, we give up. But if instead we turn to the Lord, the smoke disappears and the mirrors are cracked, leaving us a window into life and truth.

Yes, I will be happy to arrive somewhere where I can rest. Yes, part of me wishes all of this had never happened, that I was still in Cluj after a good day of wheelchair adjustments and laughter. But such is life. What is more, I asked for it. I knew what I was getting into when I chose to follow the Lord at all costs. I knew that carrying a cross (or Alfred) would not be pleasant or easy. When interceding in prayer for brothers and sisters in the Church who have been attacked by the evil one, I knew that would make me a target. But the Lord is my refuge and strength, my ever-present help in times of trouble. The Name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run into it and are saved.

Days like today force me to run back into the strong arms of the Lord. Whatever your day is like, I encourage you to do the same. Every adventure is better when you can face it praising our great God!
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A Rose From Home

A Rose From Home

My Story (As prepared for my church congregation this spring--2009)


I have a story to tell you. I am the main character, but the story is not about me. I have traveled several parts of the world, but my adventure has been closer to home. I am twenty-six years old. My story begins like many of yours…

I grew up going to church. I had been born into a family who labeled themselves “Christian,” in a country that labels itself “Christian.” Every Sunday found me attending a worship service and Sunday school in a mainline denomination church. I served as an acolyte, attended Vacation Bible School, helped my dad count and record the offering money, sang in the youth choir, was a leader in the youth group, and occasionally served as liturgist. Baptized as an infant, I was confirmed at the age of twelve, thus becoming an “official” member of the church. Then, hurt by the church, my family left to find another.

Have you ever been hurt by the Church?

After months of searching, we settled into a very large independent church. Things were different there, and I was quickly welcomed and at home among new friends that truly had a passion for Jesus. The Word of God was taught boldly from the pulpit, and I was introduced to a missions-aware lifestyle. So it was with regret that I said goodbye only a couple of years later to move with my family to another church. I purposely remained aloof, not wanting to make new friendships before I left for college a year later. Besides, I was loosing my faith—or so I thought—and I didn’t want anyone to know. I was asking scary questions like “Is there really a God?” and, if so, “Is He the Christian God?” and “Would I be Christian if I had been born in another part of the world?”

Have you ever asked yourself unsettling questions about what you believe?

So I headed into college under a cloud of confusion that only worsened for the next two years. Though I didn’t know what I believed anymore, I continued to go to church every Sunday, and to help lead worship in chapel. Most importantly, even during this questioning, I continued my morning habit of daily study of the Bible. I had begun at age twelve, reading at first a chapter per day, then ten minutes each morning, then an half-hour, and so on. So, only by the grace of the very God I doubted, I remained anchored in His Word and in His community, though I felt like a fake most of the time. Since then I have learned that “fake” is the worst insult the world can give us; that is why the label of “hypocrite” is so offensive.

Have you ever felt like a fake?

Six weeks with missionaries in South Africa followed by a year in France began to teach me what life with God is all about. I began rebuilding my faith, this time it belonged to me, in contrast to me borrowing the faith of my parents, church, or anyone else. In my parent’s basement in 2003, on either Christmas Eve or New Year’s Eve, I invited Jesus to live in me; perhaps I had done so before, but I didn’t recall—but since 2003, I have never forgotten that moment. Unfortunately, nothing changed. I continued to do my best to act like a Christian, as I had done for so long.

Have you ever found yourself “doing your best” to be a good person, or to act like a Christian?

Though I did not realize it at the time, I was quenching the Spirit, even though I had welcomed Him into my life. During the next few years, the LORD continued to nurture me, and slowly things began to change. Several tough months in Idaho birthed my prayer-life. I spent three years being humbled in a job that was my informal seminary training. In 2007, a short stint in Mexico helped me to see things as they were, and not long afterward, I was baptized by immersion. No baptism of any kind can save a lost soul—only Jesus can do that. However, this baptism was an important covenant between me and God, symbolizing not only my death and resurrection with Jesus and my public profession of faith, but it also my life change, the beginning of my bearing fruit. “For each tree is known by its own fruit…”according to Luke 6:44. During the past year and a half, the LORD has provided me with an informal pastoral internship in my church, teaching me every aspect of discipleship. Simultaneously, I have been studying unceasing prayer and worship. I am now very different than I was five years ago.

In the Book of Acts (which tells the story of the earliest years of the Church) every time a person decided to follow Christ, two things took place—though not always in the same order. Each person experienced a life change, which I call the “baptism of repentance,” as well as the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, which I call the “baptism of the Spirit.” Looking back, I realize that the Holy Spirit was living in me in 2003, but it wasn’t until I surrendered everything to God, as represented by my immersion, that I allowed the Spirit to have His way in me and transform my life. “I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now life in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself up for me. (Galatians 2:20)”

Have you invited Jesus to live in you? Have you allowed the Spirit to transform your life?

I tell you this story for two reasons. First, I tell this story in order to boast in the LORD! May God our Father get all praise and glory forever! Second, I tell this story because it is relevant to you. Likely you have heard that I am leaving the country: I have let my light shine before you; please let your light shine within the Church, too! This congregation is in revival, and as each of you allows the Spirit to revive you, the entire Church will be revived and utterly transformed, to the glory of the Most High God. And for His glory is the reason He created us; the reason He sent His only Son to reveal Himself to us; the reason He became Sin for us and died for us on the cross—while we were still sinners; and the reason that He conquered death and offered us eternal life with Him.

It will cost you a lot—in fact, it will cost you everything, your very life. But if you have never surrendered your life to Christ Jesus, if you have never invited Him to send His Spirit into you and to transform your life, then do it right now. Just let go of everything to which you are desperately clinging; stop trying to do it yourself! This is the very reason you are still breathing in this physical life—God has been delaying His judgment of this sinful world because He is waiting for you—2 Peter 3:9 says He wants none to perish!

If you have already invited the Spirit into your life, then live like it! Bear fruit! Anyone and everyone who meets you or knows you or sees you or hears you should know immediately and clearly that Jesus the Christ lives in you and loves them! That is how stark the contrast should be between your life and the world around you!

Have you immersed yourself in God’s Word and in prayer in the last twenty-four hours?

If you call yourself a follower of Christ, then there is no excuse for not communing with Him daily! Anchor yourself in the Word! God has revealed Himself to us through His Son, Jesus Christ, and the Bible is a complete and accurate record of that revelation. And prayer is humbly letting Him love us. Let Him love you! God doesn’t need us, but He wants us! God doesn’t need us to live for Him—He wants to live in and through us! Let us love and fellowship with one another, even when you disagree! Pray for each other—the names in the church directory are a great place to start! Church, we are not only the Body of Christ, but we are the Bride of Christ. We have allowed ourselves to get bedraggled and stained—now let us stand to the glory of God! Let’s let Him purify us, restore us, and love us!

My dear Brothers and Sisters, if you have ever once been blessed by God our Father at work in me, then I urge you, please, take seriously His desire to love and work in you, beyond anything you can ask or imagine! I have told you the beginning of my story—may it end in glory to the Father, in the Name of Jesus, by way of His Spirit.

Now, what is your story?