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.
stuff others wrote