(Location: My house in the village of C., nearly 11:00pm on Monday the 8th of November.)
Everything took longer today.
That is why I am sitting in my smoke-filled house, finally finding a moment to write at nearly 11:00pm. You have heard me preach about the flip-side of adventure, the non-glamorous side. Well, this is it.
My day started at 5:00am so I would be ready to catch the 6:15 bus home, which I did. I then taught French and English. Though I had decided to spend a leisurely morning after that to celebrate my day off, my plans changed when I remembered I changed my schedule and would have to be back tomorrow morning to teach again. Thus, instead of waiting for the bus, I hitched a ride to town to run the errands that were waiting for me. Hitching a ride took a lot longer than usual today. The errands took a good bit of time, too. Then, I ran up to the ministry base to use the internet, and the photos I tried to send Mom at her request took eons to upload. I hurried to the train station to hop a train halfway home, and it was late, of course. Then I decided to visit a friend's family on my way home, which was wonderful, but certainly took the rest of my evening. Now, though I have yet to grade the French homework, my eyes are stinging from the billowing smoke that managed to fill my one-room house.
Maybe you think I am just bad at starting fires; that is why it took me an hour and a half to light my stove tonight. After all, I am a cityboy. The truth is, usually I am better at starting fires than putting them out; just ask my coworkers! Seriously though, I rarely have any trouble building a fire, but for some reason, tonight it would not take. I tried again and again, changing tactics, using all the paper I had . . . nothing. I had to walk away from it twice and take a break, because I was going to get very frustrated. I used a candle so I would not have to keep lighting matches, and though the candle kept burning, only the stove would put off the needed heat. Finally, I had to take out all of the fuel and put it back in, adding a bit of toilet paper, and finally it took. When it lit, it really took off!
Is that not how our faith is sometimes? We talk to someone, wanting to encourage them. We light a little spark, see the hope reflecting in their eyes, and then it dies. We try again and again, maybe for years, trying every way we know how to get the fire to take. We pray, fan the flame, add more fuel, light more matches. We give up, and come back another time. We give up again, only to come back again. Finally, we throw everything out, and start all over again. But when that fire finally starts, it sure was worth it!
I know that when the smoke clears out of my house, the fire I built will be worth it.
And it was not a bad day. Actually, it was a good day. I got almost everything done I wanted to, and that I needed to. The two highlights of my day were fellowshipping with my friend's family this evening on the way home, and finding a hardware store in town that will be great therapy to nurse the lack of male fellowship at my work. Just the other night, I had dinner with several of my collegues, and I was getting hounded for being a guy. The did not like that I like to wear white socks with my dress slacks, that I cough into my sleeve instead of on my hands, that I fold my clean clothes without turning them right-side-out, and plenty more. To make matters worse, today when I asked about employment at a place that had a "hiring" sign in the window, I was told the retail store was only hiring females. Fortunately, the Lord has blessed me with a few brothers in my life who understand that we do not need to start planning in October what we will wear to a certain December event!
Yes, actually I had a testosterone dose of fraternal fellowship this weekend that was a great blessing. On Saturday night, I ran into some British gals I had met during one of our outreaches this week. What I did not realize is that they were here with several fellows I met here last year, so we all got to have dinner together last night. It just goes to show that you never know what an impact you may have on someone. I had not forgotten these blokes by any means, but they keep recalling things we had said and did that I had completely forgotten. It was a great blessing to spend some time with them, and I do not know how I failed to take a picture!
Do not get me wrong; it is a blessing to work with my ladies on the outreach team, too. But balance is healthy.
In fact, one balance story hit me hard with the truth of God's grace. On Saturday I had a freak accident that could have happened anywhere; it had nothing to do with being in Romania. After our two outreach programs, we were cleaning up. I went to move a small table and managed to step just "wrong" and fell through the narrow crack between our fold out stage and the inside of our box truck. The crack is barely wide enough for my foot or leg, but my right leg fell all the way to the ground, folding my left leg up under me and causing me to drop what was in my hands. It happened fast, and we all thought I had maybe broken my leg. However, as soon as I was able to gather my wits, I stood up, completely uninjured. I do not even have a bruise or a pulled muscle. God is so good!
Everyone had seen my long legs on Saturday morning, because I rode on the bike seat of a young boy who gave me a lift all through town to where we were doing our first outreach. My legs were out to either side like outriggers. Tonight, as I waited for the train, some gypsy ladies came up to me. The first asked me when we would be visiting A., and I told her, "Thursday." The next asked about, V., already knowing we would be there on Saturday. She said, "Are you the guy my son gave a lift to on his bike? He was so excited about the (deflated, used) soccer ball you gave him!" We gave the beat-up soccer ball away after it had become "ruined" during our pre-opening activites. She was telling me how much her kids appreciate us and our programs, which is fun to hear, especially in another setting, like at the train station.
This was a very good week. Yesterday I had a good chat with one of the American students in town, and I have also been blessed to hear from many of you via phone or email. I have laughed a lot, like when we talked about differenced between guys and gals, or when my 15-year-old pupil fell backward out of his chair into the laundry rack when I surprised him while explaining the JAWS music! My cough and cold are mostly better, and I have appreciated your prayers.
I posted a bunch of new photos on the Picasa sight--click on the link to the right to see them.
Ok, the smoke is clearing, and it is way past bedtime. Do not let your fire die! Goodnight!
This blog is your opportunity to travel with me wherever I am in the world, during both the mundane and exciting moments of life that I humbly recognize as holy. As I bare my life to you, may your reading take you beyond my words to the Word, beyond my life to the Life, beyond the chaos to the Truth, and beyond teachings to the Teacher--the Rabboni. I promise it will be an adventure, and by the end, may you, too, truly know the Way!
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?