Reading Material

Location: J's apartment in Sighisoara, Romania, at 10pm on the 25th of July

Today I said goodbye to my Hunedoaran friends who were my bosses at the disabilities camp, and I just arrived in Sighisoara; tomorrow morning it is on to C. Sorry if I do not have time to write you emails, but please catch up on three new posts below. I will try to write back to your emails soon! I bless you in the Name of our Jesus!

By the way, I forgot to write in the other blog that several times this week I was translating from English to English without knowing it! These two friends above are excellent translators, and I am learning from them, so it makes me feel better that they do the same thing sometimes. But it is bad when you think you are speaking one language and another one is coming out!

Half Camped-Out!

Location: Train number 375 between Deva and Sighisoara, Romania, nearly 7:00 on the evening of the 25th of July.

I just caught a few winks after four nights in a row of only four hours' sleep, so now I can concentrate enough to write a bit about the week I just finished. Though as always I cannot promise to have time to include many pictures, I am hoping to have an opportunity to get on the internet tonight in Sighisoara before heading home early tomorrow morning. Tomorrow begins another camp in the hills above my village, and if I understand correctly, I will be living in tents with some 95 children. Fun? I will have to let you know!

Speaking of what you know, you may or may not know that I was volunteering at a camp outside of Hunedoara and Deva this week (hence the train). I started to write about it above, but I have not yet had an opportunity to post that entry. God's hand was certainly at work in sending me to this camp, for I had fully intended to decline the invitation. Yet I ended up going and thus spent a week with two of my beautiful friends in Romania. Sure, they are lovely to the eyes if you see them, but their hearts are so beautiful that you quickly forget what they look like--that is what I mean by beautiful.

Only understanding that I would be helping with a disabilities camp, I found myself as one of sixty people at a special handicap-accessible retreat center near the mountains in southern Romania. My primary responsibility was worship leader, but I also spent significant time daily as a small group leader, a translator, and a servant doing chores. It was my privilege to make friends with folks with various types of disabilities, including autism, epilepsy, and problems with sight, walking, talking, etc. Two of the gals on my worship team sang from their wheelchairs, and some of the most inspirational messages during the week were shared passionately by C.

C. is now engaged to be married to a fine lady who also has a walking disability--he has prayed for eleven years for God to send him a wife. He is confined to a wheelchair, his legs always folded in a kneeling position, and his arms do not work well enough for him to feed himself. He can utter unusual sounds if he contorts his face dreadfully, though usually he sits quietly in his chair with a huge smile plastered on his face. This young man preached in forty churches last year. You see, even though most people cannot understand him, his fiancee has a special gift of understanding him, so she translates patiently and passionately from his Romanian into more intelligible Romanian. We, of course, then translated his words into English as well. One night he taught us that when God looks at us, He delights in us as we shine with the light of Jesus--like we delight in star-gazing at night. We are God's stars! Another time he said (in my English paraphrase), "Do you ask why God made me like this? I have to screw up my face to talk, I have to be fed by someone else, and I cannot walk." Then he pointed at his wife-to-be and said, "There is my mouth!" He pointed to another friend and said, "There is my hands!" He pointed to another friend and said, "There is my legs!" He told us how we, too, get to be the mouth and hands and feet of Jesus. This young man led three people to Christ on one of the first nights of the camp!

I could tell you about R., who has faced so much discrimination in here twenty-odd years of life in a wheelchair after a vaccine trapped her soul in a child's body, the size of a six year old. She sings like an angel and now has a vision to open a center in Timisoara for people with disabilities. Or about S., who encourages all the people around her, who translates and helps with worship, who tells jokes and offers hugs to those who will receive them. Or of V. who has notebooks full of poems and songs he has written from his wheelchair, or D. who limps through pain with a cane while fighting for the rights of her disabled friends and family members. Together we laughed and cried, played games with balloons and water, and read and studied the Book of Esther, through which we were reminded that God is always at work, even when we have trouble recognizing it! We had a couple children of about 5 years of age, all the way up to a few folks in their seventies. We celebrated three or four birthdays, and really had a nice week.

For me, it was an extremely difficult week, though I know I was blessed and got to be a blessing. For example, if you think about it, Romanian is my fourth language. Though it is coming along, it has some big gaps, and I make some hilarious mistakes sometimes. As you can imagine, that made it terribly challenging for me to lead worship (in Romanian) and to translate (in front of a room of fifty people). Leading worship was especially trying because I had to be prepared to lead at least twice per day, in the beginning only having a flautist and myself who played instruments, and without having a guitar, I was left to use my violin or to try to bang out something on the keyboard. Later in the week we acquired a less-than-excellent guitar that quickly reminded me that my garden-work callouses had replaced my guitar callouses that have not been used, and my fingers are very sore now. I was limited to songs--oi! you do not care about all this! Anyway, we had other difficulties with publicizing the words of the songs, with my "tech" guy, and not having time for rehearsal. In addition to challenges in leading worship and translation, I also battled a gross lack of sleep for a variety of reasons. Meanwhile, inside of me, emotional and theological battles rages as I was confronted with life all around me; simultaneously, our team faced numerous spiritual attacks each day. Thank you for your prayers; my Lord pulled me through to His glory!

One beautiful aspect of people with disabilities is how often and how gently they help one another. I hardly can describe the scenes of them pushing wheelchairs or offering an arm of support, hugs and encouraging words, prayers for one another, and so on. My disability this week was my language in the spotlights of translation and worship leading: I was overwhelmed by grace as time and again I was helped. Often, four or five of us would work together to translate something correctly. (I was the only native English speaker there who spoke Romanian). Which reminds me, I really enjoyed my new friends from Scotland and England, but it makes me smile that because of their thick accents, there were times when I could actually understand them better after their words had been translated into Romanian!

I could tell you more, but you do not want to sit in front of the computer all day. Instead, sit before our Lord today, and remember how much He loves You. Please pray for I. and M., my good friends from Hunedoara who organized this camp. Also, please pray for G. from Scotland, the one who received the vision for the foundation that has grown out of this camp, with the goal of eradicating discrimination against people with disabilities in Romania. The four of us had a special connection this week as we linked arms and stood and spat in the face of the Enemy's attacks, interceding for one another and for our brothers and sisters with disabilities. Please pray for my other new friends this week; each one faces unique challenges and has special gifts God is using.

We have reached Medias, which means that the next stop will be my destination. May you, also, safely reach today's destination for this part of your journey, and may your life proclaim that you are blessed by a Jesus who loves you indescribably!

Disabilities Camp

(Location: Camp outside of Hunedoara, Romania, a little before 7:30am on the 20th of July.)

Yes, my astute readers will notice that I am typing this immediately after I finished the last post. That post was already too long to start a new topic, and though I might not have time to finish this one until after this week is over, I wanted to share with you a bit about the first day of camp.

First of all, hello and special blessings to S., a leader here who is from the Sibiu area. I finally had the pleasure of meeting her yesterday, having heard that she often reads my blog. Yes, I met a lot of people yesterday. We have around fifty campers, adults between fifteen and seventy years of age who have a disability, and some of them have caretakers with them. We have a wonderful team from Scotland here, as well as volunteers from England, the Ukraine, and Romania. The camp staff is a great group of people, as well.

It took me a little while to get into the flow of things, as it seemed like everyone knew a lot of the other people, and I only knew the directors. (For those of you who are not familiar with camps, you cannot be friends with camp directors while they are organizing camps, because they are extremely busy.) Soon, though, one of the camp staff had some free time and took me to climb the hill that looms over the camp. We did not see any of the vipers they warned me about, and we had a great hike. We climbed trees at the summit to see further, then we dropped down a ways to peer into a small cave, then we went back to a rocky outcrop we had visited first, climbing down the rocks together. I found out he loves taking pictures, so he put my camera to good use. Later we will have to see what he captured. Please pray for this young man, N. God has special plans for him.

The evening picked up speed as I discovered I would be on the worship team. We prepared and worshipped, and we will be doing so the rest of the week. I want to ask you to pray for me for that, but I know that I will not have internet access until it is over. May the Spirit lead your prayers.

I just realized that I am simply narrating everything, not talking about anything important. I had a special time with our Lord early this morning, and I have a lot of important thoughts and feelings. Suddenly, though, as people start moving around here, I have lost all ability or desire to open my heart, to spend more time on the computer, or to dive into this deeper at the moment.

I hope to share some photos and more stories later. May your heart be filled with the joy of Christ today!

How D'Ya Like Dem Apples?

(Location: Train between Sighisoara and Hunedoara, 1:38pm on the 18th of July)

So now I have driven up and down that steep farm road several times, having passed the first driving test I was given. Early last week was only the second or third time I had done so, and I only had D., my boss' eldest son, with me in the van--our other 15 year old coworker was working up the hill a ways. Because of a deep rut in the middle of the path, I lost traction and killed the engine. At that point, the climb was too steep to start, so I had to back up, trailer and all. During the process, things became more difficult, and we had to adjust the (fortunately!) empty trailer by hand a couple of times. Then, D. said to stop, because one wheel was in the air.

Knowing that the trailer had four sturdy wheels and was hitched to the sturdy van, I was not overly concerned, despite the drop-off on our right. Not quite a cliff, I still did not want to go too far over the edge, so I got out to inspect the situation myself. I must admit that I was surprised when I went around the corner and found that the van wheel, not the trailer wheel, was in the air, and not a little! Suddenly I pictured my boss coming around the corner and finding us in that predicament; not a fun day-dream! With some help from S., our other coworker who had by now returned to join us and ask us how in tarnation we had done that, we managed to get the van back on all fours and up the hill. I was thinking that might be a situation better left undescribed, but when I arrived a little late to lunch that day, everyone looked at my while one of the younger sons asked, "Was the van really on three wheels!?"

No, I have not had too much trouble with the van; stuck on the incline once or twice, stuck in the mud once, the muffler coming off. . . but those things are to be expected when you use a Volkswagen like a bulldozer, and I do not think I have lost a bale of hay with it yet!

The tractor, though, that is another story. Having learned to drive it in circles one day, I was not expecting to get the privilege more often. Suddenly my boss sent me up the hill with it one day, pulling TWO trailers! Talk about a crash course! I was a bit nervous, because I did even now how to start the tractor or raise its scoop, much less pull two trailers. But a few quick instructions and I found out that it was not too bad; up we went. Coming down loaded is a different story, of course, and I have not done that yet with two trailers--only with one hay-heavy tow.

My bigger tractor adventure was toward the end of the week when our boss took us up the hill for hay after the previous night's rainstorm. Were I in that situation, I would take one empty trailer, but my boss likes a good challenge. He pulled up with the large trailer loaded with dirt to repair the road, and the smaller trailer filled with about a dozen crates of rotten apples to be dumped. It was not long before one crate of apples fell, promoting me to the position of hang-on-to-the-back-of-the-cart-for-dear-life-while-holding-rotten-apples-on-so-we-do-not-loose-any-more! It smelled nice, but it was not a fun job! To make matters worse, we were ordered to push with John Deere started fish-tailing up the 45 degree slope, but it is hard to push when you cannot even stand upright in the slick mud, and when you have to hold apples in an old horse cart being pulled by a tractor. Finally, halfway up, we unhitched the cart and left the apples. When we made it to the top, I was asked to return with my boss to get the apple cart, so naturally I hopped in the scoop.

Picture this: a large green John Deere tractor racing backwards down a steep mudslide with me crouched leap-frog style in the scoop, looking past my boss to see the rapidly approaching apple cart. Talk about a thrill! We got the cart, and again I was given the apple-holding responsibility. We emptied both trailers, loaded them with hay, and came back down.

Yes, "hay week" is an interesting time.

(Now I am at the camp outside of Hunedoara; it is just after 7:00am on the second day of camp, the 20th of July.)

I have other stories from hay week, about God's marvelous provision and protection. You see, there was a lot of spiritual warfare going on, for those of you familiar with that, and I thank you for your prayers. For instance, it rained every single day, even if it was only a brief sprinkle, but a couple of times it really re-shaped our plans. One day we had to leave the VW at the top of the hill because we were drenched in a rain storm and could not drive it back down the muddy road. One day, the boards in the hay loft I was working in gave way, and I fell through, finally managing to catch myself with my arms spread like a gymnast, most of my body dangling through the ceiling of the room below. It would not have been more than a ten- or twelve-foot drop, but it was one I did not want to take. Another day I stretched out on the ground beneath the rear of the trailer to hook on the tie-straps we would use to secure our load. Something happened above and six or eight hay bales tumbled down, directly on top of me. However, though only my legs were left stick out out from under them, none of them touched me, having piled up just right on the trailer hitch and creating a cave around me.

It was worse for my boss than for me. Did I mention that on the very first day, six machines and/or vehicles broke down? He also got a call about a job he had done in the past, informing him about a problem that needed attention. But in the midst of these challenges, it was a good reminder to find a snake baled in a bale of hay, cut in half and dead. It reminded us that Jesus won the victory at the cross, that that snake, satan, has already been defeated, and that we can live confidently, knowing that the victorious life of Jesus is living in us and through us if we have surrendered to Him.

Thank you for your prayers during hay week. I have more stories, but not time for them all. In some ways, it was a hard week, but I really enjoyed that kind of work. Sure, I have the cuts and splinters on my arms to prove it, but it is a job well-done, done to the glory of God.

May your week be the same: glory to God. I bless You in the Name of our Jesus!

First Installment

Location: The base where I used to live and work in Sighisoara, Romania, just after 8am on the 18th of July.

In a little while, I will head to the train station and travel to Hunedoara where I will help with a disabilities camp for the week. Though I had not planned to help with any camps outside of the village of C. this summer, some plans changed that freed me up to do so, and I took advantage of the opportunity. So look forward to hearing more about it when I can write more.

I have a whole bunch of stories I want to write from this week of bringing in the hay, but they did not yet get written like I had hoped. Instead, I enjoyed a nice visit yesterday in Sighisoara with a friend from Switzerland, and had two meetings with folks from the ministry I worked with last year. N. and I also got drenched in a rainstorm last night (I just thought you would like to smile about that.) All of that meant computer time could not be a priority. So I hope to write more on the train, but I decided to begin here to whet your appetite. (By the way, a few of you have sent me emails that I have now read--thank you!--and I will try to respond to them soon. Oh, and if you have not noticed, I did post a couple of things yesterday, below.)

So let's start spinning tales...

If you have never worked on a farm, you may not know the joy of bringing in hay. I had heard stories, but now I have experienced it, and I must admit that though it is extremely hard work, I thoroughly enjoy it. One of my coworkers and I agreed on Friday that the bales were much heavier on Monday; hopefully that means we got stronger during the week!

So where to begin? Maybe I should begin with driving. My boss has a VW van that is pretty heavy duty, and it goes just about anywhere if the right person is driving it. For several weeks, I never touched it. Then one day, when we were driving home from a job in Medias with a full trailer behind us, my boss suddenly pulled over and said something like, "Let's see how you do." It was not a request or a command, simply a fact that now I would drive. I drove home that day with no real problems.

Then, the week before last, when he used the tractor to rake the hay in the fields, he said, "You wanted to learn to drive the tractor, right?" This John Deere is bigger than the one I used to drive at the camp where I worked, but it is not much different, and before long I was driving in circles like any northern-hemisphere farmer in July. However, it is one thing to drive a tractor (that has already been started) in circles in a relatively flat field. It is quite another to pull two trailers up a miserably steep farm road. The same goes for the van. So let me tell you what happened...

Hay is for Horses!

Location: My former "home" in Sighisoara, Romania, the 17th of July, a little after 7:30am.

What a week! We have been bringing in the hay this week, and I have great stories for you! I hope to write them soon! Until then, enjoy the post below--it is worth your time!

Right now I am in Sighisoara to visit a friend who is visiting briefly from Switzerland, and tomorrow I plan to leave for a week helping with a disabilities camp outside of Hunedoara. However, if it does not rain today, I may have to run back to the village to work in the fields and bring in some more hay this afternoon before I catch that train tomorrow. I will try to keep you posted!

Have a great week, and may the Lord surround you, permeate you, protect you, and bless you, in the Name of Jesus!

Going Back

Location: My house in C., nearly 11:00pm on the 11th of July.

It is too late to write, but I must.

After an extremely difficult week, I had a great weekend (some of which you read about in my last blog entry). I cannot tell you about all of it, because if the weather dries out, we have long hours of bringing in the hay waiting for us this week, and after that I am heading to help with a camp near Hunedoara, and after that helping with a camp here in C. That means I need rest in advance!

Yesterday was restful, but that rest was bookended by my 20 kilometer bike ride each way (to and from town). Let me give you insight into a life of walking (or in this case, biking) with Jesus.

As I rode into a beautiful morning yesterday, I thanked the Lord again for my bike. It is sturdy, handles the doubtful terrain well, and gives me a certain amount of freedom. However, I had hardly left the village when I had a strong feeling that told me to, "Go back." Immediately it seemed like God was telling me to turn around, for this silent "voice" was similar to how His Spirit often leads me. And while it was true that I had important things to do in town, they were nothing that could not be delayed a day or probably even a week. Nonetheless, everything seemed good about going to town, so I was confused. I stopped on the side of the road, pulled out a Bible, and prayerfully read some of God's Word, asking for clarification if this was really His voice telling me to go back. I decided I was imagining things, and continued on, though I could not shake the uncertainty. To add to my uneasiness, a thick haze crowded into the beautiful day, wrapping around the hills and settling on the fields. I stopped again and prayed, and again continued on my way, reaching the small town that marks the halfway point. I asked the Lord to place and angel in the road like He did for Balaam and to open my eyes to see him, if I needed to go back. Almost immediately I came upon a man holding a scythe, but he was on the side of the road and waved as I rode past, only stepping into the road after I had passed him. Only a bit further, I again stopped on the side of the rode, this time calling back to the W. family in the village, to confirm that everything was fine there. It was. All systems "go". As I reached a turn-off that could take me back the 14 kilometers to my village, I decided that this uncertainly was not worth it, that I would turn around. But then I dismounted and prayed again, saying, "Lord, I do not care if I spend the day in town or in the village; I just want to spend it with You! What bothers me is that I am struggling so much to recognize Your voice! In faith, I cried out to You and have prayed for You to clarify my call to turn back, and with each clarification I asked for, nothing happened when the opportunity arose, such as the "angel in the road" with the scythe; I know that You hear and answer my prayers. If I am needed in the village, or if You have special blessings for me there today, I want to be there. But the same is true of Sighisoara. I just want to spend the day with You; I want to obey You, and I do not want to miss what You have for me."

I sat on the side of the road a bit longer, and finally decided to go on to Sighisoara, arriving and enjoying a wonderful day there.

Adventure awaited me, though, upon my return trip. During the day, I had talked with my family and my mentor via internet phone and email, and with each we had talked about my bike. I told them it was good, that the brakes squealed a bit, but so far everything was working fine. Before coming home, I swung by the grocery and picked up a few items for me and for my coworker, I. The extra weight sped me up on the downhill shoot outside of town, and I made great time for the first half of my trip back in the twilight. In fact, for the first time I activated the generator headlight, and I think I burned it out on that downhill race!

Because of the weight of my bag, though, I. insisted on meeting me to help me carry the groceries. Just past the halfway mark, I saw him coming and called for him to turn around. Then it happened... I think I slightly squeezed the brake to slow, though I hardly recall. What I do know is that suddenly my rear tire locked, pulling the brake cable taut, and jerking my handlebars hard to the right. The now perpendicular front tire stopped the bike abruptly, sending me flying over the handlebars and skiddling across the pavement. It seems that my bike had lost a screw that holds the rear brake fixture in place, and the latter began to turn with the wheel, tugging on the break cable and braking the screws on each end before completely blocking the rear wheel from spinning.

I dusted myself off, put my bike chain back on, and then we worked our way ahead for a couple of hundred meters as it started to rain. Some folks were just leaving their work in the field, and the man in the tractor had a hammer he loaned us to free the rear wheel, and he helped us with the "repair," which then allowed the bike to slowly carry me home.

I tell you this because I am so thankful. This is what I wrote to the Lord in my prayer journal:

"I am thankful for so many things. Thank You for the bike and for the successful trip to town and back. If You were warning me in the morning, thank You. Thank You that it did not happen further from home, especially on the fast downhill, heavily-trafficked part of the road. Thank You that I did not hit my head, or really get hurt at all. Thank You for the little bit of sediment left on the road from the flooding, which helped save my skin and body. Thank You for I. arriving as it happened and for his help. Thank You for the folks in the field with the tractor who generously loaned us a hammer and helped us with the repair. Thank You for using the pop I had bought for I. to protect my computer from damage; You also protected my phone and had convinced me to leave my camera at home that morning. Not even my clothes were torn, and my minor scrape was easily treated with salve and a couple of Band-Aids. Thank You that my bike is probably repairable. Thank You that it did not rain extremely hard. Thank You that even with the delay from the accident, the general store was still open so I could buy some food for dinner. Thank You for Your joy and reassurance throughout everything, and for being with me. Thank You for using this fall to help re-strengthen my friendship with I. and his faith."

No, I was not hurt. But you see, I do believe that this was one of many spiritual attacks I faced last week, for God has been working mightly in my life, in the life of my coworker, I., and in our village of C. There is more going on here than I could possibly explain right now, but I wanted to tell you this for God's glory. I wanted to show You again God's protection and provision. I wanted to remind You that we always have a choice to look that the problems life throws at us, or at the blessings God gives us. 1 Thessalonians 5:18 says, "Give thanks in all circumstances." Ephesians 5:20 teaches us to give thanks to God our Father at all times and for everything in the Name of Jesus.

As I said in church this morning, every time I faced a challenge this week, by His grace I was able to say, "God is good!" or "God, You are so good!" or "We have a good God!" Do you believe it? Do you know it? Even when you fly over handlebars or skid across asphalt? Even when your head is in a toilet with the latest flu bug? Even when your family or faith seems to be unraveling? Even when you do not think you can go another step, survive another moment, or breathe another breath? Do not be tempted to give up or to go back if the Lord is going on ahead of you! He is good, and He is working for your good and His glory!

My prayer for you is that through the abundant grace and mercy of the Lord Jesus, you will be able to know, to truly know, God's goodness today, so that You, too, will be able to recognize His voice and give Him thanks in every circumstance, for everything. I bless you in the Name of Jesus.

Some Photos...

(See two new posts below photos!)





A wall I built on a woodshed...








Our village, C., from above.









Some of God's grandeur.

Children's program and water games several weeks ago with friends outside of Targu Mures.

My bike

Horsebackriding with the family next to the field (on the right) that we have been working in. I think that is the hay we will be bringing in this week.

In Town Now

Location: Casa Cositorarului, a restaurant in Sighisoara, Romania; it is about 10:30 in the morning on the 10th of July.

After an unusual, difficult morning that included the 20km bike ride into town and morning devotions in the Sighisoara cemetary, I am now in the perfect spot. In the secluded corner of a vine-shaded porch with a cat lounging in the chair across from me, I can faintly hear music and bustle from the center of town where the tourists and vendors are destroying the peace. But here I am near the citadel wall, built hundreds of years ago to protect against invaders, and I am away from most tourist traffic, and behind a hedge from those who do venture this way. I have internet access, a few hours before I am supposed to meet up with someone, and I just ordered a banana split to pay for my internet use.

Sadly, I realize that I did not upload my most recent photos to the computer, and my camera is at home. Howeever, since I have been unable to post photos for quite some time, you probably have not seen most of the photos I do have. I will try to include a few for your pleasure. Meanwhile, I just posted a short story I wrote last night, "For Henry." I hope you enjoy it.

Because of my extremely limited internet access, I have been trying to figure out how to write so that you have something worth reading. Certainly, I prefer not to just give you a diary of my hours and minutes. So let me try to give you a glimpse of life here from God's perspective, best I can.

As I have told you, God is at work here, much more than I am. While I pass whole days at a time in the gardin or in the woodshop, He is orchestrating something much greater. For weeks now, I have been trying to heed His instructions to wait upon Him (for it is not yet my time), and quite simply, to enjoy Him. The weeks have passed quickly. Usually "stuck" in the village of C. and isolated from virtually all outside communication, I have been in real relationship only with the W. family (my hosts), and two other people. For various reasons, each of those friendships has been blessing, ministry, and ever-evolving. Meanwhile, only a few of my days have included any kind of lime-light. Most of the time I am merely the American neighbor with day-to-day interactions in the street, the general store, and the nearby houses.

(Wow. They did not have bananas, and the substitute dish just arrived and is amazing. Sorry I do not have a camera, but I am not sorry I do not have to share it!)

With this role comes new challenges and blessings for me, yet God knows what He is doing. He is working among a people who cannot let go of the past, a people among whom there is very much racism and distrust. Like in many other parts of the world, Jesus is not offensive here; His followers are. They cannot love one another. Some think certain ones are not Christians because they wear earrings. Others think some are not Christians because they are too legalistic. This people, like many others, is struggling economically and ethically.

In the midst of this, God is wanting to bring healing. Physical healing, yes. But also spiritual, mental, emotional, relational, and more. When Jesus does things, He does not only do them halfway. So now I am waiting for His perfect timing, to play my perfect role in His perfect plans. I met with my hosts last week to discuss staying longer in C.; today I have a meeting to talk about another offer I have had in Sighisoara. As always, there are many possibilities, but none matter as much to me as being as close to my Lord as possible. That is where I want to stay, yes, for my happiness, but even more for His glory. As amazing as it is, that is what He wants from me: my presence, my attention, my love. And, I understand that God's plans for Romania are tied somehow to His plans for Western Europe and America, and maybe more places.

Me? I am fine, thanks. A quick bout of flu weaving through the countryside might have touched me last week one evening, but it did not keep me down for long! The joy of the Lord is my strength! Yes, I miss my friends and family in the United States. I do look forward, though, to seeing a friend from Switzerland next week. Also, though I had to say no to five or six camps that wanted my help this summer, special circumstances have come up that seem to suggest I will get to help my friends in Hunedoara with their disabilities camp in a week or so. Then we will be in camp mode ourselves, in our village of C. Meanwhile, I have been asked to help teach a bit of French and English in the family where I have been staying. Ah yes, I successful opened a double bank account here, in dollars and in RON (lei). I was less successful when I tried to get internet in the village; so far every lead has reached a dead-end.

And a special note to my Cluj friends: I have not forgotten you! As you know, I have not been traveling since my arrival, nor have I had internet access. I will come to visit you all sometime, though. Thanks for your patience and your prayers until then; I am definitely praying for you, and I hope you are well!

All of my friends, that goes for you, too. I am praying for you, and I miss you. I find that my prayers are even more wistful now, because I rarely hear updates as I pray for you, and I have no idea what you are facing or why you are rejoicing. Blessings to you in the Spirit! And watch for an email; I hope to catch up on emails today, pending God's plans!

Finally, one highlight. Last Sunday night, I joined my coworker in his house with my violin. Several times we have met in the evenings to read the Bible together and pray, and a couple of those times I played the violin while he sang from an old Romanian hymnbook. Last Sunday, he wanted to invite the neighbor boy who is probably in his early twenties and who has a disability that I do not recognize, somewhat similar to autism; he had heard the violin and enjoyed it. I agreed, and this young man came with his older brother. Before the night was over, as people came and went, there had been twelve of us in the house, songs in Romanian and in English, reading and discussion of 1 Corinthians 13, and prayer. We had invited one boy to join us in our normal practice, and God made worship happen. This is why I wait. I do not have to DO anything, except let Him move freely in me and around me. As He does, I will join Him.

I pray the same for you, and I bless you in the Name of our Jesus.

For Henry

Henry was a big black man.

Back then, though, this kind of thing was more common. When? Well, I don't know for sure; I guess I don't even know where, somewhere a bit wild, I'd imagine. Today it would be illegal--that's a fact! Only reason I remember "Henry" is because he makes me think of my favorite tall-tale character, John Henry, who beat a machine in a race with a hammer, even though the victory cost him his life.

But it sure caused a stir that day. Just think about it: Henry walks into town real quiet, but real big, and real black. In this particular locale lived a mix of people. I hear there were a majority of tough men, but some ladies, too, and they was speaking at least two, three languages there. You could not really hear them, though, because with quiet Henry was a loud white man, walking about ten steps ahead. He was shouting something about fifty dollars--a lot of money! If you listened closer, you could understand that he was challenging the town to a fight. He said that Henry could whip the finest boxer in town, and he said his fifty dollars would prove it.

Well, I am not sure what Henry thought; maybe no one asked him. They didn't laugh at him though. Even if he was kind of hunched over as he shuffled in the dusty sunlight, you could tell he was strong. He could not be very old, neither, maybe in his thirties. His cotton shirt played a little in the wind, but the muscles beneathe it moved it even more. This was in stark contrast to the fellow out front.

The other man was narrow, and he wore boots with heels to grow him up a couple of inches. Everything about him shined, from his boots to his watch to spectacles, and even his voice. His voice was of an odd timbre, like a bell that wants to be heard. It was not bothersome--in fact, rather winsome--yet half of you wanted to look away while the other half wanted to listen more.

The half that didn't want to listen was already scurrying from house to house, gossiping glib. Who would fight this champion? Terrance might be able to handle him, or maybe Neil's boy, Gordon. Sven was big, or Red, was he bigger? He was certainly quicker.

No one knew for sure, but they naturally gathered in the center of town. Of course! Davy Smith would accept the challenge; he was known in the whole region for his often bloody knuckles and his quick grin that admitted he was missing two teeth. Everyone loved Davy; he was one of them--one of us, you could say!

In no time, the fight was on. The two men circled, eyeing one another between their balled hands. Davy struck first, a light jab to Henry's left cheek. The big man did not even try to block such a weak effort. Then Davy came again, before Henry could throw a punch. One-two, three, even four and five blows struck the challenger, two in the face, two in the body, and another one in the face. The town was cheering; this was their Davy! Again he attacked, landing two more punches in the body, and a quick right that split Henry's eyebrow. The people were still hollering, encouraging their hero. He threw again and again and again, soon bloodying the nose of his opponent. Now he felt strong, and he increased the intensity, becoming more vicious. He did not notice the crowd falling silent; he didn't see what they saw. He was thrilled and eager to continue; he hadn't even been hit!

Then he, too, realized what the people knew. Henry had not tried to block a single attack; nor had he thrown a single punch. The big man let the local hero rain down punches on him. He was bleeding, and even swaying a little, apparently dazed by the beating. Suddenly Davy noticed something else. His opponent was gazing at him through the melee, crying. Not angry tears, not defeated tears, but sad tears. Tears that seemed to be for him . . . for Davy. Davy hesitated a moment, and then in a fit of rage slammed his fists into that crying face, wanting to close those crying eyes. What was this? Some sort of trick? Why wasn't he fighting? Davy screamed at him, and as he pummeled him in fury, the black man finally sank to the ground, defeated.

Now Davy was crying, but he didn't know why. He felt ashamed, and the townsfolk looked on, unsure of what had just happened. An unexpected contest, a one-sided duel, and two grown men crying.

The more the people thought about it, the less they spoke. Into the hush that followed stepped the little man with the bell-voice. He handed a now-numb Davy fifty dollars cash, and shook his hand. "Congratulations, young man. You won." Then he looked around at the expectant people, waiting for something they could not express.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, you may be feeling a lot of different things right now. Perhaps you are confused, or perhaps you are angry, thinking that I came as a rich white man to make sport of this black man. I assure you that Henry came willingly, knowing what was to happen. He and I are the best of friends, and in this moment, I want nothing more than to run to him and help him to his feet; to take him home. But I will speak first on his behalf, because his heart is his largest muscle, and it is filled with a great love for you--even you." As he said this, he looked at Davy. Meanwhile, every person clung to his words.

"If Henry could talk right now, he would tell you that he is worth more than any treasure. He knows this because one day, someone fought for him like you he fought for you today. You probably know that Henry is very strong, and the truth is that he is a champion boxer. He has won many a boxing match, yet he has a gentle spirit and wants to heal people instead of hit people. You see, he once heard a story that changed his life--a true story. He learned about a poor villager who became a great teacher. The people loved him, but some of their leaders were offended by the truth he spoke. They arrested him, and innocent of any crime, he was mocked and beaten. This man was named Jesus, the only Son of the Living God. He had all power on heaven and earth, but instead of fighting for his life, he did not defend himself, nor did he say a word. Like Henry today, he allowed himself to be beaten because he wanted to feel the pain of the people he loved--he was spit on and punched and whipped, his beard was plucked out, thorns were pressed into his head, and in the end, he was nailed to a wooden cross and left to die, rejected by the his own people.

"He was one of them. He was their kindred, and they killed him. He died that day, an innocent man who bore the sufferings of the very people who beat and murdered him. And Henry is laying there on the ground in his own blood today to tell you that this Jesus shed his blood and bore the pain for you, too. In a beautiful miracle, He took your death upon Him and offers you His life. Even though He died on that cross, three days later He was raised from the dead, and He still lives today.

"Henry is also still alive. If you want to know Henry better, I would suggest that you ask this merciful Jesus to forgive you for the person you have been and for the things you have done, to come and live in you, through you. You see, it is the love and grace of Jesus that you saw today living in Henry. If you get to know this Jesus, His love and grace will live in you, too. It was Henry's privilege to represent Jesus to you today; for that privilege he thanks you and he thanks his Lord, Jesus the Christ."

With that, the little man hurried over to his friend Henry. With some water, he washed his friend's face, and then he helped him to stand. Without another word, the two of them started home, Henry leaning on his friend, both of them leaning on Jesus.

Internet Access...

I'm in town with a patient friend; thus, some of you received emails and I glanced at some of yours, but most of you will have to wait longer for a response. Sorry and thanks! I bless you from Sighisoara, Romania, on the 3td of July, in the Name of our Jesus!

(One of two) See the next post for more!

Walking Through A Calendar

Location: Patio of hosts' house, about 12:15pm on Saturday the 26th of June)

Because I so rarely have internet access, I find that I am writing less and less, even though I have more and more to write about. In fact, if I get access, I may post this unfinished, if I do not have a chance to finish it. I am also hoping to post some pictures from the last account I wrote, so that is what they are if they get posted without explanation.

God is a good God. And today it is raining. I hoped to ride my bike into town early this morning and catch a few businesses while they were open on a Saturday morning. It is difficult because I work while they are open, and I cannot easily get to town while they are still open on Saturday morning.

However, right from the get-go today, I realized that God had plans different than mine. That was confirmed when I failed to acquire a ride with my thumb after standing in the rain for an hour and a half. We have been having an unusual amount of rain lately, and is even cool enough that my boss started a fire yesterday to heat his house. Perhaps because I am living in a walk-everywhere culture, Romanians have what seems to me an unusual perspective on rain. If it rains, that is it. Nothing else happens. I am told that many parents keep their children home from school when it rains. A couple of Americans I met told me they got drenched as they hurried to their language class, only to learn that it would have been acceptable for them not to come because it was pouring. And of course, no one is going anywhere in today's rain, which makes hitch-hiking extremely difficult. So now, I will see what the Lord has in mind.

There was another day this week that I had a lot of plans for after work. Yet I was extremely pensive, and after praying, I decided to forget those plans and hike up the hill where we ride the horses. It is a long hike, and I was gone for two hours, coming home just after sundown. Yet how magnificent it was! I am going to start calling it the Hill of No Pictures, because I always forget to bring my camera up there. But let me tell you that as I sat with the Lord, I watched the skies and landscapes change in magnificent ways. I had prepared myself to weather a pending storm in the forest, but it never came. And though I could only see the sunset in pieces through the woods, I got to see the rest of the skies and the hills and the light show on the trees. Everywhere I looked seemed to be another page out of a calendar. It took my breath away, and I decided that I was in one of the most beautiful places in the world! I wish you could have been there (though I must admit that it was wonderful to be alone with Jesus!).

So as time flies from me and I do not know if I will get any internet access, which of my millions of thoughts and ideas can I tell you?

Do not underestimate prayer. Over and over the Lord shows me the power of prayer, or more correctly, His power that is ready to move mountains as He listens to our praying heart. I am praying for you. I am praying for this village, about my time here, about each day's work. I am praying and listening and singing and praising. The Lord is on the move; His Spirit is blowing here and there like the wind. I feel the dynamic faith in my bones, in my heart, in my soul. I see the trees across the valley blowing as the Spirit passes by. I hear the birds singing of His grace, I watch the plants stretch toward the heavens. I see the insects crawl obediently where they must, and I watch the skies reflect God's glory. Start praying. Keep praying. Believe and know. Be still and know. The LORD is God, and He is good.

Thank you for your prayers; I am praying for you, too. I bless you in the Name of our Jesus!