God.space

7 11 2011

 

Kiss his cross or he won’t shake your hand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If it was up to me, we would stay a few more days, I think the team is feeling the same. Today we serve in a clinic for half a day, then serve the local church … All the local church for half a day. Even though I have no idea how this is going to roll, it’s ok. We’re getting pretty good at the load, unload, the setup, the serve, lunch, serve pattern… Hard work, but man is it fulfilling knowing that what we are doing is so fruitful, so intentional, …quite frankly… So immediate.

So serve we did, in our “half” day, we saw 400 people for eyeglasses, pictures and HIV training and gave 200 pairs of shoes to orphan children. The Lord multiplied our efforts miraculously, this is how many we serve in a whole day. In our other “half” day the team gave eyeglasses to 300 people.

Why the eyeglasses? 60% of the Amhara region has eye problems. Low lighting for life, poor cleaning habits, no meds, no docs. Why shoes…obvious, most people have none or little protection on their feet from disease. Simply…it meets a need and gives the very few believers here access to speak the gospel. Why the gospel? If you didn’t know… There are 18 million people in the Amhara region of Northern Ethiopia. Most are Orthodox caught in a dead religion and deceived by evil spirits. There are only 20,000 Christians. Do the math. If your among those doubting… Saying the Orthodox church has been here for years, their Christian… Come and see for yourself. Come and spend the hours I’ve spent with Orthodox priests who have renounced satan and the witchcraft of the priesthood that they have learned since children. Talk to those who have received the gospel afresh and know Christ alone as salvation and true deliverance from darkness. Then we’ll talk. (attitude intentional)

The best part of the day today? Watching the team work. ALL the team! Our team is not only Anna, Ron, Crystal, Dave, Terry, Chuck and me; We were joined from the beginning by a group of college students from the local university. Ya, they know the language, and like our young people in the US, they understand a bit of the culture, but they too needed time to develop. And by this day my translator had hit full stride. He set up the full foot-washing station, directed all the people in it. It was sweet! It wasn’t an easy setup either… Biggest issue, there’s a lady having a baby in our room.

So here’s the scene, walk into a larger room that has three rooms inside of it. As we walked through the clinic it was the best we could do. The best? This place smelled like death. Really, we should have all been wearing masks. Heck one of those space suits that they use in those sci-fi scenes during the “cleanup” would have been nice. I didn’t want to be there. Just bein’ honest…I didn’t want my team to be there. Anna, 17, sweet Anna, she’s gonna be on her knees in this place for hours washing feet that are as filthy as this room. Crystal hasn’t been feeling well, so just the smell of this place has her queazy. (She actually needed to take a few breaks today to settle her stomach) Chuck and Bob, their pretty much up for anything, But I’m worried about the girls and their translator. Like a big brother I want to protect and provide. Their my friends, they’re my sisters. But God is our dad. Now what?

Well as we first walk in we see a few people milling about…we ask them to leave. They’re nervous, they’re reluctant. We soon find out they are here waiting for a woman having a baby…in our room! Are you kidding me? Here?!

We determine that shes in one room, we’ll be in the others…no problem…ya right. We begin to work around that awkward scene and begin to set up. Eventually the awkward scene comes to us. There she is squatting down in our space. Oh my did I struggle with that one. But looking at my young team, I needed to suck it up and move on. We gathered, we prayed. What the Lord said to me in that moment was “this is life here, do you really think that the sterile room in the US is what saves you?”. I remembered Angi. I remembered my girls deliveries. I remembered the one the Lord took before she had a name. It’s that simple. Life is fragile and it is begun and sustained by the Lord. We can trust the Lord in this situation It ain’t perfect, it ain’t sterile, but God will protect that baby, and God will protect us. So I encouraged my translator to lead well and we moved in and moved on. Before you know it we were serving our guests in our God space to do what he called us to today.

People were served, the gospel was shared, people made a new profession of faith, churches will be planted.

Peace,

JP
(old iPad)

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old.dude.faith

4 11 2011

 

I’m a thinker…so shoot me. I’m also a believer, so I long to do the work of BELIEVING. At moments like these in the middle of Africa it might seem odd for you to hear, people accuse me of being an “ivory tower” kind of guy…and it stings a bit… but I get it; Jeff, push beyond the right thought of something to the right doing of something. I don’t think they know me well enough, but it has been some good. But not the greatest good.

DOING right stuff is not the end. I’m convinced of it! Believing is our greatest work. But oddly enough, I don’t think this is the greatest thing in the church today. The greatest thing in the church today seems to be results based on doing. Not only results, but results within a structured time frame. I live in this tension. I know. Unfortunately I am guilty of perpetuating it for years. Sorry, Lord.

Though I feel the external pressure to produce results… secretly… shhhhh… come a little closer… I like to wait. I know. Odd, isn’t it? Waiting is not a popular option. We like action. Problem: FAITH is not only proved by action, but also by waiting; what some people call, “doing nothing”. Strangely enough, we assume people who are doing nothing or moving slowly are lazy… a riff in my head that has plagued me much of my adult Christian life.

I was caught in this tension today. Washing feet can actually be demented in my mind into a doing thing instead of a believing thing. As if to think more people served is better than the right people served. Or more shoes delivered is better then shoes delivered in Jesus name. Don’t hear me wrong. We’re kicking some major butt in the numbers category including hundreds of professions of faith. American workers would be proud! We have worked long hours and served between 500 -700 people a day with all of our services. And that is right. We are faithfully DOING the right thing. But there is more. We are also BELIEVING.

The Story…

Bob is an old dude on the trip. I wouldn’t pick him for a team like this, but that only proves my ignorance, not wisdom. He and I had a connection the first night in Bahir Dar. We spontaneously ministered to one another and shared a moment that has made us friends. I’m so glad he walked outside as the old dude to work with me that night. I could’ve done it myself. He knew that. Old dude 101: He knew something I didn’t and acted on it. He represents all I want to be as an old guy one day.

Bob has Parkinson’s. He has a train wreck history. He struggles with the stuff of life. His marriage is on the grow. He wrestles with the flesh. But oh God, he sees clearly! There is life coming out of him. Light is in his heart and it comes out his hands and his eyes. It’s really fun. No grumpy old man here. Praise God! We’re more alike than I would ever have admit. Other than the Parkinson’s and the fact that he’s somewhere over 70, I think we could be brothers…

Bob came for one purpose, to wash feet. And wash feet he does. Not fast…but he washes feet. Honestly, I was tempted more than once to go off on him. “there are hundreds of people to serve Bob! Get a move on!” But Bob doesn’t roll that way. Each foot is in a sense, a hug. (now don’t weird out on me here). He holds each foot in two hands and prays. He listens and God speaks something about this person. Do I get it? No. It’s Holy Spirit stuff. God doesn’t work that way with me. He speaks to me, but not through feet, c’mon!

Bob walks out the door, arm shaking and head moving from the Parkinson’s, a bit out of breath from getting up and the excitement, wet shirt and thighs from all the foot-washing, and finds me in foot-washing store manager mode. Here’s the conversation beginning with Bob:

“I’m washing this man’s feet and I think this a peace man.”

(background…”person of peace” is part of a church planting strategy taught by e3 partners where you wait for God to reveal the person in the community who will help the church planter to gain access and relationship in the community. Developed from Acts)

Me…I correct his terminology…”you mean person of peace. Okaaayy…How do you know?”

(internally…I’m not in waiting and believing mode here. I’m not sure I believed God would do this thing at all. I certainly wasn’t thinking it at the time)

Bob…”I was talking to him and praying for him like I do all the men and while I was holding his foot, God gave me an impression. “

Diane standing with me…wisely told him…”have Mesfin talk to him”

(Bob walks down the hall toward Mesfin and we all move on)

Next day: testimony time. I ask all around the table, “what was your favorite moment so far in the trip?” It came to Jo, another less old dude. He sais, “the moment when I was washing feet next to Bob and God showed him the person of peace.”

I didn’t believe it. I walked down the table and whispered to Mesfin, our church plant coordinator, “is this true?” Mesfin simply sais in his quiet, broken English-Amharic, “this is true, this man is Christian, he welcome us in his home, his family, he invite neighbors to have Bible study. We start next week. New church plant.”

Bob’s testimony, “that moment is why I came.”

What?! Did that really just happen?!

The Lord sais, “Yes, Jeff, that just happened. Long ago, before you were born, this moment was thought about. Bob, this Ethiopian man, Diane, Joe, everyone praying …and you, Jeff. Church plant, yes, but also a season perfectly placed to remind you and the old dude to trust me.”


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interpret.this

4 11 2011

 

 

 

 

I missed two days somewhere along the way. Busy, working, tired, thinking, rethinking, trusting, listening… But the hardest of all seems to be interpreting the stuff of life.  Looks, glances, hand gestures, smiles, no smiles, response and no response… Simply exhausting. And fun too.

Interpreting is stuff of living in another world with another language. It can be draining and fun. You can think you have it at one point…communicating rightly that is… And just when you think your in, you find you missed the meaning of the intonation or how hard to squeeze the hug or when to nod and which direction to wave your hand; when to shake the hand and when to grab the arm, when to speak and when to not. Before you know it your being laughed at with friends or being ignored by those you want to connect with.

Oh but when the connection is made, it’s good. I mean good like when your kids really get after telling them over and over again to … Its like we finally connected and the magic of communication moved us forward.

So interpret this…

A crowd of children, 600 – 800ish. 5-15 years of age. ALL with rip torn clothes. All smell. Most without shoes. Almost all with some noticeable illness coming from their nose, mouth, open wound, foot, head or eyes. Interpret… Neglect? Or Orphaned? Or…

They stand and push in a crowd with an adult shouting names. One by one they light up as they hear their name. I mean light up like Christmas morning came early. they shove anyone out of the way they need to to get to the lineup. Interpret… Greedy? Or Human? Or…

Crowd of kids push in on the area we are giving shoes. Not a few. The whole crowd. 600 of anything coming toward me is intimidating. Crowd swarms as a man swings a stick at them. Not a small stick. They scream. They move. Interpret… Child abuse? Or crowd control? Or…

Fact is, I’m not really sure I’ve made any correct interpretations today. I felt quite vulnerable and today was difficult for me. So many children and I’m so helpless. Seeing the picture of the young girl with the torn dress on the UNICEF commercial is one thing, being in a flood of children in Bahir Dar is another. Yes it breaks my heart. It would yours too. You need to come and see, that’s all I can say.

You know even though we’re extremely American, I think there were moments when we made that transcendent connection. Moments when smiles were exchanged. Genuine love was expressed. Care was given and humbly received.

In it all, there is a picture that stands out. Our photographer Terry was taking a break from her responsibilities to get a few candids and capture one she did. She was getting a picture of Chuck giving a kid some shoes. Now Chucks a big white guy born and raised in Leroy, Ohio. A gentle giant. Pretty quiet but don’t let quiet be confused with disengaged. He tracks every conversation and offers at the right time…unlike most of us who speak first and ask questions the rest of the day because we were talking when we should have been listening. (In cartoon world he’d have the body of Shrek and the heart of Mother Theresa.) Anyway…He’s become one of my favorites. I love him dearly. So Terry’s out to get a picture of Chuck at work giving out shoes to kids. It would have been enough to see that connection, but God gave so much more. In the moment she snapped the shutter this boy spontaneously lunged forward and gave Chuck a big hug. Not posed for some UNICEF poster, but genuine connection…appreciation…love…a moment of grace caught on camera. Chuck, eyes closed like we all do when we give a loving hug. The kid with a serious smile. When I saw the picture, I could almost feel the pressure of the little arms squeezing his neck. The picture of this little black body connecting with this rather large white guy will forever be in my mind when I try to interpret days like this.

 

 

 

 

 


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Show. N. Tell. Miracle.

2 11 2011

Show…

This part is going to sound kind of crude, but it so helps the appreciation. Today, I washed feet. Do you know feet? Do you know your own feet? Intimately enough to describe them to someone? Feet are pretty ridiculous. And for me, quite utilitarian. God made them. You need them. Move on. But these feet that I saw today told story after story. I’ve got one in my brain I don’t think I will ever lose…

The conversation….I’m not good at this. I’m not a part of a crew that washes feet. It’s not part of my family or upbringing. I always thought it was not so much a literal thing as it was a lesson learned by the disciples. I kind of admired the ones who said they did it, but it’s always seemed a bit oddball to me. I thought as the leader of NEO Convoy of Hope to have a foot-washing tent and give away shoes was a good idea. I loved hearing the testimonies from the foot-washing tent, but it wasn’t me. I was busy doing my stuff, so I didn’t really have to do that part.

Well here’s the conversation. I’ll remind you, this is an Ethiopian Orthodox elderly man. I’m an American young man with longer blonde hair. Totally messed up from a human perspective…so right in God’s eyes. I told him my name and asked him his. My translator interpreted. He told me his name. I told him I have come from America to honor him and serve him like a son would serve his father. (one guy said he only allowed his children to wash his feet, so I incorporated this with the older men) My translator interpreted. I continued with “would you allow me to wash your feet and give you a new pair of sandals?”  The response was affirmative, but not very excited. More like a distant grumpy man who needed help but didn’t want to ask. So here we go…

The shoe. Not really a shoe. A leather moccasin kind of thing with 2 lace holes holding it on. One broken but held on by force. Some from the small shoe size, some from the wet and mud and yuck caked around the edges creating a molded covering on the foot.

I removed the shoe. It didn’t come off easily. But it’s not as if it was completely stuck either. I didn’t have to tug, but with some down force and a few light side to side jerking motions the shoe broke loose and began to move. Out dropped a few toe-sized chunks along with a few ragged pieces of thin sock material. The chunks were mud or something. I didn’t inspect the stuff, but I’m sure they weren’t toes, cause this older man had all of them as I counted. (I was told the team before served a man with leprosy so I was expecting the worse.)

Honestly, no romantic stuff here. I love God’s way of giving grace for the moment, which he did, but it’s not like I was hearing angels sing in the background or something like that.

The sock was deteriorated. Came off pretty easy, but it made me think that this man had not removed his shoes for a long time. The mud, the sock, the smell…

The smell was atrocious, so I didn’t breathe. Anyone who knows me…I’m not much for smells. But I will say this: the place we were working smelled pretty bad. Think about it. No cleanser, no mop…heck… NO RUNNING WATER! What would you expect? It was a clinic for people who have 1 set of clothes in their home, and those are on their back. They smell… These feet obviously made the room smell worse.

This man’s feet had issues. Weathered. Damaged. Filthy. Toe nails 1-2 inches long. The ones that weren’t broken. Issues I’m not sure how to describe but messed up. They had to hurt.

I poured the antiseptic water on them one at a time and I washed with my hands. I used a cloth to remove some of the dirt and touched his toes enough to know that they didn’t move. They were caked with dirt and grime and who knows what else. I got a lot off, but I left a lot too. It would have taken a surgeon.

I fitted sandals that were too big, but we’re still better that what he had.

After the ritual kind of care moment was done the man broke the silence with thank you and repeated blessings of long life for me and my children. I didn’t respond with much. He kissed my hand a few times as we said goodbye to him. And he slowly moved on.

What? No gospel presentation? No proclamation of Jesus? No telling him why we are doing these things? So where’s the celebration? Certainly not here?!

No, our job today was to SHOW the love of God in physical ways so that men and women could speak the love of God outside the clinic. See, the clinic is government property. Sharing the gospel is not allowed. The extreme Orthodox hate us and are just waiting for us to overstep our bounds so they can shut us down!  They were interviewing people as they exited the clinic just waiting for someone to say, “they are preaching Jesus in there.”  They were even going from house to house asking people about their experience trying to find a way to shut us down. Not today.

Tell…

Outside the clinic were Christians working with us sharing the gospel with those who exited the clinic. Among them were 6 Orthodox Priests who work underground as Christians. They were in an amazing position today by God’s grace!

We didn’t know it, but all through the day Orthodox priests had been attending the clinic coming to the gates. Many many priests who needed to see and hear about Jesus.

Miracle:  There are 57 orthodox priests who were shown the love of Jesus inside the clinic. Then they were told the gospel of Jesus outside the clinic. They believed the truth, and said things like, “these are truly Christians” and “we believe this truth” and “teach me more about this Jesus.”  Ya, 57 Orthodox Priests who didn’t know Jesus and the Gospel, made a profession of faith in Christ for salvation.

Miracle…


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Miracles and Malaria Meds

31 10 2011

Terry and Crystal heading to Bahir Dar


Sitting in my mosquito net wondering where the last few days have gone… I know why the mosquito net, but how I got here is quite frankly a blur. I know we started on Friday AM real early for the airport, waited in a few lines, ate some bad food, …remembered thinking that the airplane seats are smaller than the last time I flew…hmmmm… met a man from CA that would be joining our team who talks like a guy from Dallas, lost some sleep, wrestled with the lady from the Congo next to me for the use of the armrest we “shared” (she won most of the time), began to lose track of time, got off the last plane in a different kind of airport in Bahir Dar, Ethiopia. Walking across the tarmac I recognized the terminal, (I was here with a team in 3.11) but now it was only a shell under construction and we walked to a barn to wait for a tractor to bring all our stuff to a conveyor that didn’t work so we dragged all our stuff to our vans by hand and headed to quite frankly one of the nicest hotels I’ve ever stayed in on a mission trip. I’m thankful for the homland hotel. No I didn’t spell it wrong. It’s how they do it here for some reason. It makes us all giggle a bit, but the homland is home for a few days and we love it. Beds, showers and a pretty good wifi connection.

In the middle of all of this there is a blessing from God. Like the people of Israel remembering the day when the red sea parted in from of them, God gives us all moments to remember his might and remind us of how little faith we really have. But the context is as important as the moment, so bear with me. Cause quite frankly it’s the context that has me in tears right now.

Last week a team from CA came to Ethiopia to do much of the same work as us. We are familiar, cause we have been communicating all along as we prepped for the trip. They had eyeglasses, we were bringing eyeglasses. They had a photography ministry, we have a photo ministry. They had a plan to wash feet and give sandals, we are doing the same. That’s where the similarities stopped. Last week customs held up all their equipment and eyeglasses for ransom…tax… A lady named Diane and someone else from their team stayed behind in Addis to work at getting all that was needed to get their things (including expensive personal items and diagnostic equipment) out of customs into the hands of people with needs in northern Ethiopia. In the meantime their team was up near Makele running into road block after rad block in their ministry. Orthodox shutting them down, police station visits, sickness. Turns out they really only got to do one full day of expected ministry and for the rest they made due with whatever they were allowed to participate in. I don’t know all the details, but not ideal by any means! But back in Addis Diane labored for their stuff. Arguing, extreme submissiveness, compliance, pleading, even weeping before officials that seem to be changing the ever illusive rules daily for the requirements of freeing their things. Well, in the end, they released their stuff back to them for a sum of about 650 the day before they were to leave Ethiopia. They weren’t even allowed to leave their eyeglasses to be used by others, they made them take them back to the US! Can you imagine the discouragement? Oh and I forgot to mention, Diane has severe lower back pain, uses a cane and meds to get around and loves Jesus more than her life. She did nothing wrong and everything right.

While she was going thru all this, she and I were communicating. She told us to pray hard for these issues, because we could face the same things. (That’s where many of you come in. You didn’t know it, but this is the moment you were praying for.) In addition, she needed me to inventory all our stuff, send official letters so she could get all our ducks in a row so we would hopefully not have the same issues. We even had partners in Ethiopia to obtain letters from the minister of health as they suggested…try getting that in the US in 3 days time! We got all that! Thank you Lord, but that’s not the Red Sea parting stuff. We still needed to walk through customs and face the illusive rules of the airport stuff police. We assembled our baggage in Addis and made our plan. We had letters ready to fire at them like automatic weapons …and we prayed.

Rick Eisman from e3 and myself would go first with the stuff. Everyone else would have the regular baggage. Seems like what leaders should do…go first with the stuff and lots of amo. We got to the front of the line with hesitation and quite frankly I was a bit scared. Not for my life, but that the moment wouldn’t happen. You know the Red Sea moment. It’s certainly not because of my faith that anything would happen. But here goes! It was like we instantly became dignitaries being ushered through the crowd. You know… Important people who don’t need to wait in lines. Suddenly no need for X-ray machines, no need to check baggage claim tickets, no need for special man made papers with official seals, definitely no need for talk from us…and there it was, God working a Red Sea moment.

Yep, it was a killer God moment in itself, but like I said, its the context that sets the backdrop. My heart sinks again to remember the look on one very exhausted face as we walked through the doors. Remember Diane and all her work for the stuff? Well guess who greeted us at the door as we came through the other side? You guessed it… Sweet Diane. Weathered, tired, beat up but not out of the game…Diane. With tears of joy and a look of unbelief, Diane got to live in a moment what she had labored for all week. Her God moment.

Now I’m sure their are more dramatic moments in the history of mission, but this felt epic and is treated so in my heart. I’ll remember her moment for a life time. In the middle of a blur, God worked a miracle. So, I remember the Lord tonight as I sit in my mosquito net. Oh, why am I in my mosquito net? …I forgot my Malaria meds.

Thanks for praying for us everyone. He has heard your plea and answered. Please continue! Can’t wait to tell you more that has happened. A miracle… There have been many professions of faith!

It’s 1:50 AM EAT and God has me awake remembering Him.

Peace,

JP

(old iPad)


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In DC

26 03 2011

I just received a text from Jeff saying that he was in DC!  So I called him and he was on the shuttle headed to customs.  The girls are enjoying their Saturday morning sleep-in, while Eva and I  are playing with toys.  Jeff mentioned yesterday that he was interested in steak and vegetables when he got home.  The refrigerator is well-stocked.  And the next six hours honestly can’t go fast enough…

 


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At just the right time

24 03 2011

Worry is a cruel treadmill.  And I’m fairly eager to jump on it.

Jeff’s time away has been full of strange “normals” for us, too much for me to put here.  I’m sure I would bore you with the details but we’ve just had a rough go of things here.  This morning I remembered new mercies, every morning, from the book of Lamentations.  Those special verses are placed smack in the middle of the book.  The prophet Jeremiah is wrapping words around the destruction of Jerusalem and he communicates in the rhythm and style of ancient Jewish funeral songs.  Now, it hasn’t been exactly funeral environment around here without Dad, but things have been rather dreary.  I’ve had to do things alone that I usually do with Jeff or do tasks that Jeff takes care of completely.  The needs of the girls seem overwhelming.  I am stretched beyond my family in other ways.  A knee-jerk sin pattern in my life is worry.  I pray I grow out of this someday.

Yesterday the rain pounded and I held my feverish toddler.  The temperature dropped throughout the day until the nighttime brought a below-freezing chill.  The nighttime also brought ibuprofen and decongestant dosing, sips of water and lots of hugs.  But this morning, the sun was out in full force.  The small woods next to our house probably contains thousands of branches.  This morning they held maybe millions of tiny icicles.  The sun beaconed through each icicle and the woods sparkled like diamonds this morning.  A new private grace.  Lavished on Sophia and me before she headed off to school.  We looked out the window at just the right time.  It took our breath away.

The Ethiopian team is experiencing the understanding that they are there at just the right time, too.  Jeff’s recent texts have been unable to capture everything they’ve seen and done…I’ve seen a lot of “this was an amazing day” and  ”I can’t even begin to tell you what we’ve seen.”  Dad will be doing a lot of talking over the next few weeks to try to convey all that this trip has accomplished.  God is orchestrating something big in Ethiopia.  Giving Himself lots of glory.  And our team was included in that by being there at just the right time.  Recently, Jeff told me: we all went to the training this morning, then came back and met with the leader of the student fellowship on the university campus.  Two thousand students meeting weekly in a local church!  Then we all went our separate ways – Erika went to the fistula clinic.  Gary, Mark and Kelly went back to the training while I went with Rick (Eismann from E3 partners) and two leaders of the EFCE to the minister of the health office to talk about wheelchairs, eyeglasses, and other humanitarian aid stuff.  Then we’ll head to dinner for a final meeting with leadership to establish partnership details…Thanks for praying for us!!

Continue praying for the team as they pack and begin the first leg of their trip home – flying to Addis Ababa today.  We’re looking forward to them being home and being able to tell you in their own words about what God is doing in a different hemisphere.  And at just the right time.  Isn’t that just like God?



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A new thing

21 03 2011

I love how the Bible talks about God.  All truth is God’s truth, so sometimes truth about God comes from unexpected places.  Annie Dillard in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, looks at creation and thinks about God:  “Don’t believe them when they tell you how economical and thrifty nature is, whose leaves return to the soil. Wouldn’t it be cheaper to leave them on the tree in the first place? This deciduous business alone is a radical scheme, the brainchild of a deranged manic-depressive with limitless capital. Extravagance!…This is a spendthrift economy; though nothing is lost, all is spent.”

Have you ever noticed that creative people never waste anything?  I am blessed with a daughter who has always made the most amazing things out of buttons, string, noodles, pipe cleaners, and other things I usually toss out.  God is like that – an extremely creative Redeemer, never wasting, even recycling the things we want to throw away and forget about, and rarely doing the same thing in the same way.  Scripture records Jesus using many methods to heal people – sometimes he restored sight with mud on the eyes, other times He simply spoke, while others He wasn’t even in the presence of the sick person.  Salvation, trusting in His sufficient sacrifice for my sin, is always His goal for every human being; His means of drawing individuals is as unique as they are.

This Ethiopian thing that we’re witnessing is a new thing.  And very creative.  Shemeles, the Ethiopian director of Horn of Africa Ministries, told Jeff that this is the first time that an American team has been an integral part of a church planter training.  Our team is part of something new that God is doing.  The first day of training is complete and they take time out to eat together (Shemeles and our team) and share and learn and make adjustments.  Excellent and exhausting.  Jeff writes: It’s so good to hear the men and women sing, pray, and be hungry for the teaching and encouragement to reach their ‘Jerusalem.’  (The church planters) were asked at the end of a small group discussion, “What do you see as obstacles to the rapid reproducing of churches?”  Our group started with fear – different things to be afraid of including the “penalty.”  Being beaten or persecuted in some way for sharing the love of Christ, the gospel.  It’s one thing to rejoice in the church; it’s another to walk away wtih resolve to lose your life for the sake of the gospel.  They also talked about being resistant to change AND being comfortable.  I can relate!  The big church hat isn’t reproducing…it all sounded so much like America.  Big difference?  Amhara = 0.13% Christian.  Do the math, times 18 million people.  Lord, raise up workers for the harvest!  Praying for Your movement of church planting here in Bahir Dar, Amhara, and to the end of the earth!” Aren’t you blessed to be watching God do new things?

Other things remain the same.  Like my husband at Starbucks.  And making friends with the baristas.  This is Jeff last year at his Starbucks in Humera, Tigray, Ethiopia, with Brian.  Jeff told me the place happened to be located right across the street from his hotel.  And the barista knew him before he left for home.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aIUpAMHSBkc  The same old thing.


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It’s all good

20 03 2011

This will be a quick blog tonight, mostly because even though Jeff and I texted quite a bit today, there really isn’t much new to report.  Jeff said that church included some rockin’ worship and they greeted everyone there from the church back home.  He was excited about the nice hotel in Bahir Dar (nothing like Humera last year) complete with indoor plumbing, beds, and lights.  Very nice!  If you’d like to see pictures of it, friends of ours stayed there in January when they adopted their daughter from Ethiopia.  Their blog is www.thereishope-ethiopia.blogspot.com and you’ll see a few snapshots of the hotel if you look at the entry from January 12, 2011.  I dare you not to check out pictures of their adorable daughter, Hermela, along the way!

After church the team visited a village in a rural community which Jeff said was very sad.  In the same text he mentioned how excited he was to bring more people from NE Ohio there to help further the gospel.  He reassured me that they are all very safe, but he couldn’t say the same for many of the Christians there.

I found this precious picture on Jeff’s computer today after I had written yesterday about the eyeglasses he helped distribute last year.  Can’t you just feel his joy at wearing his very own prescription?  I’ll look through more pics of last year’s trip to see if they might correspond to things the team is experiencing this year and post them if they’re close.  Keep praying for the team – they’re certainly feeling it!


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A new person

19 03 2011

Jeff and I celebrated 20 years of marriage last August, but we knew each other for 7 years before that.  There are a few surprises here and there but it is fairly safe to say that I know Jeff.  Most of the time.  And he knows me.  Most of the time.  In the past fifteen years, we’ve been separated by countries for short-term trips five times – he always goes.  And each time he comes back a little different.  I see the shell of my familiar love but the inside has changed.  When he comes home I get to discover the changes that take place while we’re apart.

Last year he made a trip to Ethiopia that challenged him on every level – it was EXTREMELY hot; Pierces tend to wilt in heat.  The team experienced the violence of border disputes listening to gunfire near their hotel, knowing that rebels had crossed the border less than a kilometer away and burned 250 homes.  Team members could stay or go home; he stayed.  He was advised not to inform immediate family of this until he arrived home.  He witnessed and touched poverty like he’d never seen before as he assembled eyeglasses, placing them carefully on the dirty brown face that lit up when the eyes could see.  He distributed wheelchairs to some who’ve never walked, giving them the dignity of being upright rather than crawling in the Ethiopian dust.  His renegade luggage stayed in the States for half of his trip; in one town, he experienced spiritual darkness that made his skin crawl; his trip home included observing the mechanic wearing flip-flops dealing with technical difficulties prior to take-off.  Just through his texts, I knew the most important man in my life wasn’t the same one who left.  When we pulled up to the airport, the girls and I glanced wildly around at men carrying luggage and searched for clues if he was Dad.  Sophia saw a well-dressed business man, chin high and chest out, whisking his carry-on through the glass hallway above us.  ”Is that Dad?” she asked.  I chuckled.  ”I don’t think so, honey.  I’m guessing Dad will be walking slower and he’ll probably be looking closer to the ground.”  I was right.  Jeff flopped into the passenger’s seat and I noticed his handsome tan face was dirty and creased.  He bore every sign of a difficult trip.  I discovered new changes for weeks.  This trip is no different.

The weather isn’t quite as hot.  His luggage decided to show.  He’ll probably not witness the masses of people with physical needs.  But God is scrambling Jeff’s spiritual eggs and he’s texting me frequently to try to wrap words around it.  At 3:30 p.m., 10:30p.m. his time, he texted: The love of Christ is like a spring that jumps out of us.  It is not driven by duty or guilt or anger or pride.  It’s driven by a supernatural pressure brought on by the love of Christ.  We’ve been loved and changed and we know it’s the gospel that has done that!  Good thought?  Sorry, it’s a hard thought for me tonight.

It’s not fun to post or talk about, but persecution is real.  Men sharing the gospel put into prison is real.  Churches and homes being burned by radical Muslims is real.  People gathering for worship having Orthodox stones thrown at them is real.  Men being beaten and bloodied for the sake of being a follower of Jesus is real.  Reading it is one thing.  Listening to a man talk about a martyr about 25 miles away 6 years ago brings it to a new level of real.  The kind of thing you read about in missionary books brought to your doorstep…but that was 6 years ago, right?

Shimeles, one of the church planter trainers sent me an email today.  He spoke of many beaten and at least one killed in Jima, West Ethiopia.  He talked about 71 church buildings and 40 homes of Christian workers being burned just three weeks ago.  Possibly those numbers caught you the way they caught me – that’s just news.  But the attached picture of a man badly beaten with a crushed bloody hand and bandaged head is stuck in my head.  Really?  Really?  Yes, really…I won’t send it.

The astounding thing?  The testimony of the love of Christ doesn’t change.  The work goes on.  People need to hear about Jesus.  Why?  Definitely not some romantic guilt-driven evangelism plan.  No, the gospel is more rich than that!  The story of God’s glory is greater than that.  The love of Christ is real.  It transforms lives.  And it is the love of Christ, the gospel of Christ, that compels these men to press on.  I want my life to count like that.

We are going to church tomorrow.  It’ll be different.  This is a very different trip than last time but it still feels like we’ve lived a lifetime in two days.  I need good sleep.  I think I’m a little different…and that’s good news.  We are completely safe.  I could come home tomorrow completely blessed but I don’t think the Lord’s done with us here yet.

I look forward to seeing this new husband of mine next week.  Changed for, and by, the gospel.


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