Beach bum

I should have written about my beach retreat earlier, but things have been pretty crazy with the comings and goings of my children :)

I went to Seaside for my annual 3 day prayer retreat last week. Just me and Scout and Jesus. Friends let me stay at their beach house--they have a Sheltie, so Scout felt right at home. I took a pile of books (I always like to re-read some of my favorites, plus new stuff), my book-binding machine and journal-making supplies, my Bible and camera and lots of juice. Greg drove over on Thursday night to join me--and celebrate his 54th birthday! It was a very lovely getaway.

I always try to review the previous year, asking the Lord to show me how I've grown, what I still need to work on, how I've gotten to know Him better, etc. The theme for this past year seemed to be transition. One daughter got married, another moved from LA to Portland, I started an online business and Greg changed jobs! Those were all very positive changes, but left me with the definite sense that life is a wild and rushing river and not a peaceful lake.

In the category of "How did I get to know God better," I felt like I learned to trust Him more. There were several factors that contributed to this: The book, True-Faced (by John Lynch) which opened my eyes to the truth that God wants us to trust Him more than He wants us to strive to please Him. If that statement rattles your cage, then read the book. It's good theology and it radically changed the way I approach God.

The Shack (William P. Young) was another huge influence on me spiritually. The book's emphasis on the utter goodness of God made me look at the "great sadnesses" in my life with a different perspective. I repented of my tendency to judge God for the hard things in my life and I chose to trust Him--that He really would work good from anything He allowed to touch me or my loved ones. (Including pets). For more on how my faith developed this past year, read the post, "Faith, hope and my spazzy little dog."

I felt like I even approached my retreat differently this year. In the past, there was a striving in my heart to connect with God--kind of a sense that if I fasted long enough, prayed and worshiped hard enough, abstained from TV and other pleasures enough, that He'd be pleased and would speak to me. This year, I just came to enjoy Him. I was able to "Cease striving and know that He is God." And I came away with the sense that I had pleased the Lord just by desiring fellowship with Him. I felt like He was as sorry as I was to see our time together end!

During those 3 days, I also reconnected with a friend in Tillamook, hit thrift stores looking for old books, made 10 new journals with my binding machine, and took Scout for lots of windy walks on the beach.

No great revelations this year. Just the profound sense that "I am my Beloved's and He is Mine . . . His banner over me is love."

together again . . . for a moment

The picture proves it--we were all together as a family yesterday! Candyce flew in from India after a two-month outreach and even got to spend the night at home before heading back to the Salem base for debriefing. She looked amazing, parasites and all, and we were blown away by her stories. Maybe she'll put a few in her blog one of these days.

This morning, we took Krispin and Danielle to the airport and bid them farewell. Those two crazy kids are headed for China and won't be back for two months! Krispin's parents are teachers in Kunming now, but they used to live in Cheng Du (center of earthquake damage) and Krispin wants to show her as much of China as possible. They'll spend the first few days in Hong Kong, then meet up with his folks. If you want to read about their adventures, they have a travel blog: www.krispindanielle.wordpress.com.

A month from today, Greg and I will be headed for a tiny Athabaskan village on the Yukon river. We've never traveled internationally, but getting around in the Alaskan bush is quite the experience! Even after hearing all my kid's stories of their incredible travels, my heart still longs for the Great Land.

But I have a feeling I'll visit Africa some day . . .

practising the presence of people

I read a great article last week about "practising the presence of people." It was an interesting twist on the 17th century Christian classic, Practising the Presence of God.

In the classic, Brother Lawrence (a monk) encourages his readers to practice being in the presence of the Almighty at all times. To do everything, no matter how menial or distasteful, as though doing it for the Master. Brother Lawrence recommended cultivating a constant state of prayer, where one would be aware of the Lord's presence throughout the day.

It's an awesome read and has influenced my life greatly.

The article (sorry, I did so much reading last week that I can't remember who the author is--or even where I read it) challenges the readersto practice the presence of people. He defines this as being fully present and aware when you are with another person. To be praying for him or her as you listen, asking the Lord to use you to bless that person's life. It does not mean thinking about what you're going to say next or what appointments this encounter might make you late for--but to be totally engaged in that moment with the person the Lord has put in your path.

My mind can be a million other places during the course of a typical conversation, so I asked the Lord to help me practice the presence of people. The first day of this experiment was a total failure, but I just kept praying for His help . . .

Then yesterday, it happened! I was tasting wine at the New Season's Market near our house and got into the most interesting conversation with the wine steward. We chatted about the pleasing characteristics of the chardonnay I sipped for a few minutes, but then the conversation turned more personal.

Penny suddenly opened up and began to tell me how difficult her life had been the past few years. She'd moved to Oregon with her partner, daughter and grand-daughter to try to make a new start for the family, but her boyfriend had deserted them and headed back to sunny California the previous year. She struggles with loneliness, depression and finances.

"It's really hard to find steady work up here," Penny confided. "I'm nearly 60, so I'm pretty sure it's my age."

She told me she's headed down to the wine country in California next week to look for work. She seemed a bit anxious about the trip. Maybe it was the part about meeting up with her ex-boyfriend for a few days . . .

"I will pray for you," I said. Penny looked startled for a minute, then flashed a beautiful smile.

"Thank you," she replied gratefully. She actually hugged me before turning her attention to the next wine-sipping customer. As we walked away, my daughter Lindsay said: "Mom, you are the only person in the world who can get into such a deep conversation with a wine steward!"

Not true, my darling. Anyone who determines to "practice the presence of people" and invites God to be part of the process should have similar encounters on a regular basis.

I suppose it just takes a little practice . . .

Washed

In Revelation 1:5, the apostle John pauses in his narrative to give a bit of spontaneous praise:

"To Him who loved us and washed us from our sins in His own blood . . . .be glory and dominion for ever and ever."

What a picture! The whole "being washed in the blood of the Lamb" thing used to confuse me(and freak me out a little), until I read a wonderful explanation of the cleansing power of blood by the great missionary doctor, Paul Brand. God designed our red blood cells as the "clean up" crew of the body. Our bodies really are "washed by the blood." Dr. Brand's description (I believe it was in his book "Fearfully and Wonderfully Made") blessed me with a deeper understanding--and appreciation--of being washed by the blood of Christ.

I read about a different sort of washing yesterday. I was doing research on Varanasi, the most holy of cities to the Hindu people of India. If all went according to their plans, Candyce and her team are there right now. They were miraculously able to score 3rd class train tickets--this week is apparently a high holy week for the Hindus--and most modes of transportation had long ago been booked. But God made a way--and I can't wait to hear about their 120 degree, roach-infested, 30-hour train ride!

But back to the washing . . . one of the main attractions of Varanasi is the Ganges River. Devout Hindus from India and other nations make yearly pilgrimages to the ancient city so they can bathe in the Ganges River. They believe that when they wash in those sacred waters, their sins are washed away. Too bad the Ganges is one of the more polluted rivers on the planet!

Between chemical waste, human waste and the 50,000+ dead bodies dumped in the river each year, the Ganges has become become toxic. I watched one You-Tube video that showed a corpse floating down river while a man watched from the banks--while brushing his teeth in the river!

How tragically ironic! The very waters they trust to make them clean--both spiritually and physically--actually pollute the devout.

My prayer is that through Christ-followers like Candyce and her little band of ragamuffin saints, those seeking forgiveness will reject their death-tainted river and turn instead to the pure fountain of Life. And let the Lamb of God wash them clean in His own precious blood . . .

Re: re-

OK, I know that's a weird blog title--let me know if you come up with a better one after reading this post!

I've just been thinking a lot about "re" words lately and how much I like them. Lovely words like: refresh . . . renew . . . restore . . .recreate . . .recommit . . .rebuild . . .repent

And, of course, the buzz-word of our era: recycle!

"Re" is the prefix of the second chance--it simply means "again." There are lots of "re" words in the Bible (I'm going to be lazy and not look up all the references, but you'll get the drift):
He will rebuild the old waste places, Jesus will come and restore all things, God will send us times of refreshing, repent for the Kingdom of God is at hand.

Of all the "re" words, I think restore is my favorite. It means to "bring back to the original condtion." I've never been a crafty person, but I've always loved restoring furniture and other old things. My first project was a table and four chairs my neighbor had hauled out to the curb on garbage day some 25 years ago. My cheapo dining table was falling apart at the time, so I snuck over to investigate. The set seemed sturdy and in good shape except for some surface wear and tear. So I drug it home, sanded and repainted all the pieces--and I'm still using it to this day (it's been repainted several times and is currently in need of a fresh coat--but it's still structurally in great shape).

Another "re" word that has intrigued me lately is repurpose. It means: "to use or convert for use to another format." So, instead of restoring something to it's original condition or purpose, repurposing involves granting something--or someone--a new destiny, so to speak. Kind of like what I do with the journals I'm currently creating.

I take old books, fading away on thrift store shelves or being overtaken by mold in damp garages, and give them new life. I clean them, remove the covers and a few of the more interesting pages, add blank or lined paper (mostly from recycled sources) and bind it all together again. Voila'! The time-worn children's book becomes a hip journal. The antique book of sermons becomes a diary for the inspired. Discarded books of every shape, size and subject (hopefully) become desired objects when I'm through with them.

So, which is better? For something to be restored to its original purpose or to be converted to fulfill a different purpose?

Oddly enough, in my own life, I sense the Lord is doing both these days. . .

Mum and the Empty Nest

Sunday was my very first Mother's Day without any "chicks in the nest." Poor Greg had to carry on the time-honored tradition of bringing me a latte' in bed (he actually brings me one every morning!) and arranging bright flowers (a wonderful array of geraniums) on the kitchen table to dazzle me when I finally get up and mosey downstairs. He did a great job filling in for the girls, but their absence was definitely noticeable.

I was pretty mopey during worship, missing Jonah (I long for him more on Mother's Day than any other day of the year) and wondering what my youngest was up to on the other side of the world. I hadn't heard from her in a while and my heart ached for contact with Candyce. I wondered if she remember it was Mother's Day--do they even celebrate moms in India?

After church, Greg and I met up with Lindsay, Yellie and Krispin and we spent a lovely day together. It was too cold for the traditional Mother's Day picnic and hike, but we wandered around Sellwood and ate frozen yogurt and I even bought a sweet antique picture of Mother Mary and the infant Christ. It seemed fitting, somehow.

That night, I kept waiting for the phone to ring. At 9:30, I gave up the wait and shuffled sadly off to bed. I'd had a lovely day, yes. But my mother's heart needed to know that the youngest chick was safe. I fell asleep praying for my wild missionary child--and was rudely awakened by my cell phone at 10:45.

I reached for my phone and didn't recognize the caller-- it appeared to be coming from someone with a 913 area code. That didn't ring a bell and didn't inspire me to answer. So I settled back down under the covers--but then Greg's phone began its irritating jangle. At the same instant, we realized it was Candyce on the other end! Greg made a valiant effort to find his phone in the dark room, but by the time he flipped it open, Candyce had been routed to voicemail. We frantically tried returning the call, but were denied. Stricken, I listened to Candyce's plaintive message:

"Why didn't you pick up the phone, Mom? I've looked forward to calling you to wish you happy Mother's Day for days now . . . I need to hear your voice!"

I tossed and turned for the next hour, begging God to nudge Candyce to try again. But my phone remained silent and I finally drifted off into a disappointed sleep. I didn't even dream about my gypsy child.

But there is a happy ending to my story. Candyce made it back to that grimy pay phone the next day and I got to hear her chipper voice for about 15 minutes. How she can be so upbeat in 120 degree heat, I'll never know! She told me how she prayed for the deliverance of another woman bound by witchcraft and saw the Lord deliver. She asked for prayer for internal struggles with her team. She described the awful realities of the 30 hour, third-class train ride they will be taking to Varanasi on Wedsnesday. She told me she's been having intense dreams.

Then Candyce wished me a Happy Belated Mother's day, said goodbye and hung up.

My phone connection ended, but I felt recharged and reconnected to my daughter's heart. And suddenly my youngest chick didn't seem quite so far away . . .

"The other side of the world is not so far away as I thought that it was . . ." Rich Mullens

"Go and Tell" or "Come and See"?

"The Great Commission says that we are to 'go out into all the world,' but we've turned the whole thing around and made it: 'Come to us and hear our message.'" Neil Cole

The above statement is yet another intriguing tidbit from Organic Church. Actually, it's the underlying thesis. And as I was surfing the 'Net this afternoon, I found an article that echoes Cole's assesment. Here are some snippets from the article "Evangelism must begin beyond the sanctuary" by Mark Kelly:

" . . . effective evangelism must begin outside the sanctuary in relationships between Christians and unbelievers, according to research from several recent studies from LifeWay Research (Southern Baptist Convention)

(In a study of 1684 adults who were "unchurched," only 49% said they would visit a church in person).

"The location of our evangelism needs to shift if we want to reach the unchurched and not just move sheep around," said Ed Stetzer, director of LifeWay Research. "Church switchers are primarily the ones who visit churches. The unchurched stay home".

Stetzer continued, "For several decades we have focused on come and see, invest and invite, bring your friends to church by attracting them with a great program. We call that attractional ministry. Now we are facing the reality that fewer unchurched people are willing to visit a Christian church.

"We have gone to great length to fix up the barn, but the wheat is still not harvesting itself. I believe we must move from attractional ‘come and see’ ministry to incarnational ‘go and tell’ and join Jesus in the harvest fields all around us."

One of the reasons I like Cole's book so much is that he gives lots of practical illustrations of how to "go and tell" in our Western culture--I felt very empowered to join Jesus in the harvest fields after I finished the book.

The only question now is: Will I actually do it?

Ripples

I stayed home from work today with a tummy bug and was able to finish "Organic Church" by Neil Cole. What an amazing read! It was worth being sick just to get to immerse myself in his writings.

One of the concepts I found most intriguing was Cole's comment: "Every person we meet is a door into a new world." We can never fully grasp the ripple effects of our actions.

For example, I got saved at the tender age of 17 at a small, legalistic church in west Texas. To my knowledge, no one else came to Christ during the two years I attended that church and the pastor was fired shortly after I left for Bible College. The church wasn't growing enough to suit whoever held the purse strings.

But Pastor Frisbee's clear (if boring) exposition of the gospel impacted me . . . and my life, in turn, has hopefuly impacted many others. I got to thinking about it today, and Greg and I have served in about 10 different churches since we married. While I'm not a great evangelist, I know I introduced a few people to Christ during each ministry--and I'm pretty sure they went on to influence others around them. That's a lot of ripples . . .

And then there's my children. I've hardly left the country, but all of my three girls have traveled to foreign lands just to tell people about Jesus. Who knows how many seeds were planted as they traipsed across the planet? As I write this, Candyce is preaching the gospel to large groups of people on a daily basis--and I know people are being saved. And they will share the truth of Jesus with others whom even Candyce cannot reach.

I'm sure Pastor Frisbee had no clue the impact his one sermon has had on this planet. Just like none of us will ever know (until we get to heaven) how our lives affect others. And that fact helps me be more present and more aware of God's heart toward the person He's put in my path at the moment--be it the harried grocery clerk, distracted dental hygenist, grumpy co-worker--and even my dear husband.

Pastor Frisbee, I learned recently, has gone to be with the Lord. I can't wait to catch up with him in the Promised Land and tell him what an impact he had on me. And I'll bet the chorus of "Well dones!" offerd by all those he touched through the ripple effect will rival the very choir of heaven!