Believing

"Teach us to know that we cannot know, for the things of God knoweth no man. . . . Let faith support us where reason fails, and we shall think because we believe, not in order that we may believe" (A. W. Tozer).

The past couple of weeks have been the toughest weeks of my 9 month journey in this job of mine. To get into the details would be time consuming and tedious. Let me just write that it is very overwhelming to learn a new trade in such a dysfunctional atmosphere, and expectations are way too high much of the time – both mine and the doctor’s.

I’ve been forced to consider what I’ve been saying and writing from the very beginning; that this is God’s job = his baby. He will take care of the details. When it’s time for me to leave, I’ll leave. No matter how that happens and what that looks like.

I believe that with my head. But I’ve had the darndest time believing that with my whole being. I’ve been holding on to this job too tightly. My mentor told me that maybe God wants me to hold this job out to him, loosely in my hands. But I'm afraid that I'll fail - that I'll never be good at it. How humiliating would it be if I failed at this too? There's certainly plenty of opportunities to practice being humble!

My desire and perceived need to control prevents me from holding my job loosely in my hands. I want to know his plans. I fear making mistakes. He's only giving me enough information to live moment by moment, and unfortunately I learn a lot through my mistakes. It seems to be my preferred method of learning.

I guess it all comes down to faith, humbleness and obedience. Will I hold this gift of his loosely? Sometimes I do, and when I can, I find that the stress and my anxiety eases away.

The question is this; how can I get my heart to believe what my head believes?

Crossing The Line

 

I’m talking about personal space.  And how you should not be in it.  Unless you are the person in it that belongs to it.  Then you should be there.  But nobody else should be there, unless you okay it.

We all have a certain circumference around us that belongs to us.   Once an unwanted person breaks through the invisible  “no crossing zone” – we become uncomfortable.  I become claustrophobic and anxious.  My kids become mean to one another.

Don’t cross the line. 

We have invisible lines all over the house and car.  The crevice between the sofa cushions provide a visible line – don’t you dare stick your leg over the line into Noel’s space.  Especially if your name is Ethan.  The car has a large DMZ (demilitarized zone) in between the two backseat cushions – the middle cushion.  Neither kid is allowed to access the DMZ. 

And even Jason and I have a line in bed – though we argue about it almost every night.  We have not come to an agreement on where the line is.  (We don’t like to cross the line to the other because Hubby gets too hot, and my bones poke and hurt him, and I need the freedom to move and fresh air = no cuddling for us).  Jason thinks that His larger body indicates a need for a larger space in bed.   I think that for once, my small size has given me an advantage and the line should be split right down the center.  It’s not my fault he takes up more room than I do!  I’m tired of all the tall people having the advantage in life.  It’s time the short ones stand up and claim their advantages where they can find them – and I found one!  He thinks I should be closer to the edge of the bed  in order to give his body more room.  I can’t help it that I roll toward the center – it’s hard to sleep on top of a slope! 

So how do you vote?  Who wins the line war? 

Rocking Chairs and Good Friends

I have a dream. It's a dream for when I'm old. Not only for me, but for my Sistas as well - although I did not check with them to see if they approve of my dream. But they don't have a choice. I'm assuming our husbands will not out live any of us, so we can all be together when we're 90. We will, for some reason that I have not dreamed up yet, live in the South. We'll live in a plantation-like nursing home. And our favorite past-time will be sitting on the wide plantation porch overlooking the Mississippi (I just love spelling that word) river, sipping sweet tea or lemonade, talking in Southern accents, being combative (I can't wait to hit people), and just living the leisurely life. I can't wait to gossip about Grace Blessing who lives up on the 3rd floor - who's fake boobs have slid down beneath her rib cage. I can't wait to get my tree tattoo, by then my body will have "settled" and there will be no more guess work about the best place to put it. I will finally write my book - for then the guy that I'm going to base it off of will be long dead and I won't have to worry about being sued. I'll even use his real name. My Sistas and I will take up sharp-shooting. We'll go on bus trips to Dollywood. I'll learn braille.

"I Will Find Your Lie"

Due to certain Dish reception problems, we have been without TV for the past couple of days. Jason has found a website with free promo codes for Blockbuster kiosk videos, so we've been taking turns picking out movies. I picked out the typical death, depravity, and depressing movie the first night with "The Lovely Bones", and Jason picked a terrorist movie called, "Unthinkable," for last night.

I didn't like "Unthinkable" as much as I liked the movie I picked out - I think they could have played up the circumstances a bit more, developed the characters a little more, and tried to make me believe everything a little bit more. But all was not lost in viewing the movie, there was one quote, made by the negotiator (who used very nasty ways of trying to gain truth from the terrorist), that made the movie worth viewing.

The scene had taken place inside a metal room, with the terrorist strapped in a chair, his finger tips chopped off, burn marks on his body from electrocution, and other really awful things - inhumane things, marking his body as well. The terrorist planted 3 nuclear bombs in 3 unknown cities in the U.S., ready to detonate in a couple days. The job of the negotiator was to do whatever it took to get the location of the the 3 bombs. The terrorist told the negotiator that he was prepared for whatever was to take place. The negotiator became angry and agitated and told him,

"Every man lies to himself about something. I will find your lie, and I will tear you down."

Okay, this got my attention. I immediately thought of Satan. He spends his time trying to find our lies and tearing us a part with them. He uses our internal talk, our negative internal talk, against us. He's had how many thousands of years of human study to know the weaknesses of us. He tries and tries again to find our lies. And when he reaches upon one, he will expose them and promote them, he will tear us down and paralyze us with them.

But they're lies never-the-less, and what Satan will always fail to realize is that he is on the losing side. He will always be on the losing side. And we, because we belong to the Lord, are on the winning side. And though Satan may drop us to our knees at times, he will never keep us down.

Because he's the loser. And we're on the winning team. The living team. Death surrounds Satan, but life and light surrounds our Lord. And even in the darkest of our times, the Lord will reach down and bring us to him.

I know this. I've experienced it. And I'm placing all my bets that he will do so again, time and time again.

We Actually Had Fun

Who goes camping in 100 degree weather - without air condition? Only the extremists. And I am proud to say, we earned our hot air extreme camping badge over the course of the last 3 days.

We have earned a few camping badges over the years - the wild windy badge being one of them, earned this past mother's day. The extreme cold air camping badge was earned a couple years ago in October with temperatures around 40 degrees - during the day, even colder at night.

How does one stay in a solid state while camping in extreme liquifying conditions? You set your camp chair in the middle of the Juniata river, well, not quite middle, and you sit there until you need a change of scenery. Then you move to the pool. Unfortunately, the pool is not as cool as the 85 degree river, so you'll need to move back to the Juniata after about 45 minutes or so.

The most horrifyingly hottest time of day is supper time. Cooking over the grill is torture, even just watching someone cook over the grill is torture. Flipping the potatoes in the fire is death defying. I'm not sure if it was the food that attracted all the flies or our river muck, sweat drenched bodies. At one point I looked over at my nephew, Colby, who was holding a smoking punk stick with an obnoxious fly sitting on it - how mocking of the thing. In 100 degree weather toilet paper sticks to your ass like Scotch tape to gift wrap. You don't care about things like make-up, or hair style, or even deodorant. All is useless in 100 degree weather.

Thank goodness the night air was cool enough for us to fall asleep. Unfortunately, right across the Juniata river is an active train track - most active at night. It's so close that we can hear the ground vibrate. And if the sound of the vibration doesn't wake us, the train's whistle will. So kind of the conductor to whistle as it passes the campground in the wee hours of the morning. So kind.

We're home now. We left around 8 pm. It was still 90 degrees at 9 pm. Crazy hot. But we would have loved 90 degree weather while camping.

Tomorrow, I'm going to spend the day doing house work in the air condition. Life can't get any better than that.

There Is A Season - Part 2

(read this post only after you read the 1st)

This past Sunday my parents were commissioned as missionaries to Viet Nam. Their job is to raise awareness of the need to bring the gospel to this unreached people group and funds to the full-time missionaries who have just settled there. They will take short-term trips to Viet Nam as well. Their heart is with the Viet Nam people, as well as the outcasted Cambodian people living in Viet Nam.

Now that I am an adult with a family of my own, I have a different perspective on my growing up years. I can better understand the different seasons that we go through during our life - the growth that God instigates. I am learning that God creates inside each of us different passions, passions that he wants to use for his glory and purpose. I have to admit, there were times during my life that I was angry and jealous of "the ministry" because it took so much attention away from me. But just look at my parents now - I can't help but admit that God has them where he wants them, just as he's always had them where he wants them.

As I listened to my first pastor talk about my parents during their commission service, I thought about Indiana, Vermont, and the years here in York, all the places that my parents were heavily involved in the ministry. I thought about how God created a passion inside my parents, how my mom supported my dad, and the courage they had in following Him.

They've been through a lot in the years since they've been married - 36+ years ago. I am so proud of them. I have always been so proud of them. They've been an inspiration in following the passion God's created inside of them, no matter what the obstacles are and the outcome is.

For Everything There Is A Season

In 1970, the United States was still at war with Vietnam. My dad was drafted during that time. He was part of the 101st Airborne. He was part of a battle called Ripcord. They fought taking a strategic hill, fought to keep that hill, and fought trying to stay alive as they were evacuating the hill, losing it to the enemy. It is said to have been the last major battle, and the bloodiest, of the war.

And my dad survived.

I asked my dad once, when I was a kid, if he believed in guardian angels.

He told me about a time when he was a soldier in Vietnam. It was night, he dug a fox hole for himself. At some point he heard something. He looked up to find the enemy, who was unaware of dad's presence, not far away. Dad had just enough time to shoot his gun, from the hip, in the direction of the NVA. The next morning he saw that he shot the enemy in the forehead. A hipshot which was that accurate, without sighting in.

My dad gave me a book entitled, Ripcord - Screaming Eagles Under Siege, Vietnam 1970, by Keith W. Nolan. I can only read bits and pieces throughout it - it's a hard read. And I really don't like envisioning my dad in such a scary place and time. But it has made me realize that it is by God's protection and will that my dad survived.

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My dad once told me that although 5 years might seem like a long time to me (I was a teenager), that in all truth and reality 5 years goes quickly. It's a blink in time.

I wonder if he was surprised to find himself, just 5 years after the war, as a new believer, a husband, and a father of 2 sons? Funny how life can change with a blink.

My dad grew a lot, as a new believer. He's always been a thinker, he loves to study. When I was 4 years old, we moved to Indiana so that my dad could go to seminary.

We moved to Vermont when I was 7. Dad and mom started a church in Stowe. Two years later we returned to York.

My parents have always been heavily involved in "the ministry". It's been a road with a lot of ups and downs. My heart goes out to anybody who finds themselves involved in the ministry.

I don't know when God stirred my dad's heart to go back to Vietnam. But I think it was in 2001 that my parents recieved the approval from the Grace Brethren mission board to travel to Vietnam, under the pretense of teaching English at a college. I didn't think my mom would like Vietnam at all. Boy, was I surprised when they came back and mom told me she loved it and the people! And of course my dad was captivated as well.

Over the next few years, my parents led a few teams, made up of their church members mainly, to Vietnam, introducing that world to the Grace Brethren mission board. They've insisted that this was a place where their focus should be - this unreached people group. This year the board agreed, approving a family for full-time missionary status there, and my parents as part-time missionaries. This has been my parent's passion and dream.

This is a picture of my parent's being commissioned to go to Vermont, to start a home-mission's church.