Adventures In Missions - Serving The Kingdom

Seeking Him or me?

Wed, 3 Sep 2008 00:00:00 GMT

One thing we must guard against: we should never use the knowledge we acquire from this book as an aid in analyzing ourselves. If in God's light we see light, we shall know ourselves without losing our freedom in the Lord. But if all day long we analyze ourselves, dissecting our thoughts and feelings, it will hinder us from losing ourselves in Christ. Unless a believer is deeply taught by the Lord he will not be able to know himself. Introspection and self-consciousness are harmful to spiritual life...In observing the condition of our inward life we tend to over-analyze our thoughts and feelings and the movements of the inner man. This may result in much apparent progress, yet actually it renders treatment of the self life that much more difficult. If we persistently turn within ourselves we shall lose our peace completely, for we shall soon discover the discrepancy which exists between our expectation and our actual condition. We expect to be filled with holiness but we are found wanting in holiness. This makes us uncomfortable. God never asks us to be so introspective. To do so constitutes one of the main reasons for spiritual stagnation. Our rest lies in looking to the Lord, not to ourselves. In the degree that we look off unto Him to that degree are we delivered from self. We rest on the finished work of the Lord Jesus Christ, not on our own shifting experience. True spiritual life depends not on probing our feelings and thoughts from dawn to dusk but on "looking off" to the Savior!

--Watchman Nee, The Spiritual Man

"Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it."

Matthew 10:39

If you read my blog with any regularity, then you know that I am both introspective and self-conscious. I believe that it is perhaps my agonizing, introspective, and ultimately paralyzing ruminations that rob me most of the Life that the Father makes available to me. Please pray for my freedom. Pray that my eyes are fixed upward and not inward. Pray that my thoughts give birth to action and not Lifeless theories.

Helplessness...

Sat, 30 Aug 2008 00:00:00 GMT

So Broun and I were washing dishes last night and talking about our response to the broken people we encounter. Our response to the brokenness we met at the dump and to beggars - the ones who ask us for money in the streets. And, specifically, about our response to a woman who lives in a nearyby ejido who comes to the Gateway every once in awhile seeking help - food, clothes, money, whatever - for her and her family. She appears destitute. She brings a car full of kids and a man whose legs got severed by a train at some point. The last time I talked with her she told me her house was flooded and she lost her roof in the hurricane that hit Matamoros in July. I cannot send her away empty-handed, so I nearly always give her something - a few dollars, a bag full of groceries, clothes that we've collected - once I even got her address. But even though she lives close by, I've never gone to visit. And when I give to her it is always with a heaviness in my stomach, the same heaviness I feel when I give a few pesos to the beggars in the streets. It is far from cheerful giving. What I am giving her might last her a few days and in a month or two she will be back again, with the same sad story, and maybe even worse. I am not really helping her OUT. And then there is the fear that word might get out. That if I give to one person that more will come. And that's really not what the Gateway is equipped for. The brokenness that surrounds us could bleed us dry in a hurry if we're not selective about the needs we meet (I guess I don't really trust God to supply after all). But how can I say no to a human being? How can I turn away the poor empty-handed? Do I give just to make them go away, or so that I can go away without feeling as guilty as I would if I didn't give at least something? Broun asked what we should do with the helplessness we feel. And I suppose that his sense of helplessness is even greater than mine since he is a guy and guys are wired to fix things and as a girl my first response is usually just to empathize. But empathy usually leads me eventually to want to fix things and then I feel helpless, too. So Broun asked why we don't respond as Peter and John did to the beggar at the temple gate called Beautiful in Acts chapter 3, "I do not possess silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you: In the name of Jesus Christ the Nazarine--walk!" And I, too, have wondered many times what stops me from responding like that. Why don't I offer up the faith-filled prayer for healing, or real deliverance? And then I was praying this morning and I wrote this:

It is the very sense of hopelessness - of helplessness - that we experience when we are confronted with the brokenness of others that should provoke us to faith-filled prayer.

So, then, the block to my faith-filled prayer is perhaps a lack of recognition of my true estate. Do I believe somewhere deep down that if I was but willing to make the sacrifice - of time, of money, of resources - that I could make a difference for this person? If so, then my inaction demonstrates only an unwillingness to sacrifice and not a REAL sense of helplessness. In reality I do not walk away feeling helpless, but rather guilty for my unwillingness to make the sacrifice that I believe could change things. I go away sad like the rich young ruler. The truth is that I believe that I have much to give, but that I am simply unwilling to give it, so I cannot pray in faith. I cannot pray in faith because I do not believe that everything depends on God - I still believe that something depends on me. I do not ultimately believe that God MUST act for the situation to be rectified. I still believe that man - and specifically I - could fix it if we were but willing. I have not come to the end of myself. I cannot pray in faith if I do not believe that I am helpless but rather only unwilling.

So then, what is the truth: am I merely unwilling to sacrifice - or am I truly helpless? If it is the latter, then what I need is a deeper revelation, a deeper conviction, a deeper recognition of my own helplesness. When I really believe that I am helpless, that it is beyond my power to act, that I have absolutely nothing of my own of any value to give, it is then that I will pray in faith for the lame to walk, for the blind to see, for the hungry to be filled, for the captive to be set free, for the lost to accept the Gospel.

I must take my eyes off of myself. I am too focused on what I can do. I am defeated because I dwell in guilt. I do not pray for the lost because I feel guilty over not sharing the Gospel. I am paralyzed as I scrutinize myself over whether I am really doing all I can - whether I have really put myself fully at His disposal - and I find myself falling woefully short of "giving all." I focus on my sin, my selfishness, my ugliness - on me. I wallow in the pit of what I should be doing to make a difference. I "should" all over myself. Let us, rather, fix our eyes on Jesus - the Author and Perfector of our faith. When I am confronted by the brokenness of others let my first thought not be of myself and what I could or should do to make a difference, but rather let it be of Jesus and what He has already done, the sacrifice that has already been made, and what I believe He will do for those He loves.

Behold Him...

Wed, 9 Jul 2008 00:00:00 GMT

When he opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven for about half an hour. And I saw the seven angels who stand before God, and to them were given seven trumpets. Another angel, who had a golden censer, came and stood at the altar. He was given much incense to offer, with the prayers of all the saints, on the golden altar before the throne. The smoke of the incense, together with the prayers of the saints, went up before God from the angel's hand.

--Revelation 8:1-4

Take a momentperhaps even half an hourto be silent and envision this scene. Think about the seven angels. Look through their eyes. What do they behold? What are they gazing on? Let the Great Mystery settle in your heart. Behold it. Think about your present circumstances in the light of this reality.

From my prayer this morning: I want to know You with myself out of the equation. I base too much of my knowledge of You on meMy relationship with You is one-sided. The conversation usually revolves around me and what is going on in my life. I am interested in what You have to say only as it applies to me. Forgive me this selfishness. Please purify my heart. Help me to lay myself aside as I come to know YouI don't just want to know You as You are in relation to methat is so limiting!

I have thought a lot about who I am in relation to God. And I have thought a lot about who God is in relation to me. Surely He is a lot more than that. I want to know Him better. For His sake. Not just so I can figure out my life or my circumstances. Just to enjoy who He is.

Not Superwoman after all...

Thu, 22 May 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Preparations for this summer's ministry have begun to consume most of my days here in Mexico. The detailsmany things I "should" have been working on months agothreaten to overwhelm me. I begin to dread the footsteps in the hall outside my office, the list of phone calls to make, and the emails that pile up in my inbox. I am trapped behind my desk. Others notice it. They hesitate to "bother" me. And then I become frustrated that I would ever make anyone feel as though they were a "bother" to me. I hate being unavailable. The messy corners of my life become harder to ignore. They crowd in on me and I feel claustrophobic. I need more breathing room. It feels hectic, even chaotic at times.

And then I am reminded how already on several occasions this year I have seen God reveal His order out of what appeared to be chaos from my perspective.

These are the days that I must choose grace and peace. I have to fight for it. I have to consciously put the details in perspective every day. And I don't always succeed. I find myself abiding in the Lord inconsistently at best.

But at the end of the day, life is good! I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. And I am more excited than ever about the ministry that is going to happen here this summer.

I, like Martha, am prone to be distracted by all the preparations set before me. To become worried and bothered by them. To let self-pity creep in. Perseverance and endurance are not enough if they are not motivated by love (Rev. 2:2-4). So pray for me in the coming weeks that I find Jesus in the distractionsthat I am not distracted from Him, but by Him. Pray that I remember that only one thing is needed. Pray that I operate with eternal perspective. Pray that when I feel like I am out of love, grace, time, or energy for others that I choose to tap into the limitless supply that is available to me. Pray that I surrender to being my sister's keeper. Pray that my thoughts are fixed on Jesus.

And pray for the ministry that happens here this summer. Our two work crew leaders and an intern fly in on May 27th. Then the work crew teamnine high school students who will serve behind the scenesarrive May 28th. Most of our staff will show up on June 2nd for training. And then our first project begins June 7^th. Pray that we engage one day at a time. Not running ahead of the Spirit or falling behind. Pray that we keep in step with Him. Pray for unity, for pure hearts, for servant's hearts. Pray that we return to our first love.

Checks and balances

Thu, 15 May 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Earlier this spring I found myself in a bit of a financial tight spot due to some poor planning on my part. As I watched Jesus bail me out and cover my debts once again, I began questioning for the ?th time whether or not I am just being frivolous with this whole living on support thing. If I have the capacity to go out and earn an honest living, is it irresponsible of me to remain dependant on the benevolence of others just so I can live out the dream that I believe God has put in my heart?

It brought me to the point of crying out on a Tuesday morning, "I thank You for the peace that You have given me about my finances. Take away any false or sinful "peace" I have regarding my lifestyle or spending habits. I ask for fierce conviction when I spend Your money unfaithfully. I ask for fierce conviction regarding whether or not I should be living on support. Open my heart to the Truth. I thank You that Your Words are ever Spirit and Life. Let whatever You say to me create Your image in me. Help me to receive what You speak in deeper placeswith more surrender."

Moments later, I walked into my office and found three checks on my desk made out to me for a total of $575. A tear rolled down my cheek with a sensation more of fierce humility than of fierce conviction. I am overwhelmed every time God condescends to remind me that, yes, it is His will that I live this dream. And even when I am unfaithful, and I let my finances get messy, He remains faithfuland there is produced in me a renewed conviction to be faithful with everything that He does give me stewardship over.

I am so thankful for each one of you who has supported me so generously and invested in my life in so many ways! My cup overflows. With all of the good and worthy causes in need of financial support, it is a wonder to me to be considered such. But then, God's economy is not like mine. He does like to choose the unlikely after all, and uses the foolish things to shame the wise. So I thank those of you who have been willing to give foolishly, to perhaps a "foolish" cause, so that I may "foolishly" waste my life on Jesus. Especially my parents! All of you encourage me, bless me, and spur me on towards love and good deedsand perhaps even more foolish living.

For the last week and a half I have had the opportunity to cover some English classes at two different schools in Matamoros. I have found myself both enjoying the teaching a little more that I would like to admit, and also a bit inadequate as I am untrained in education and have little time to prepare for the classes. I also find myself a bit wearyphysically and mentallyfrom trying to juggle the classes with the increasing pace of preparations for summer at the Gateway.

For now, my stint as the maestra is over and I have a few extra pesos to burn. The choruses from the back of the classroom at the university--"I love you, teacher"--won't ring long in my ears. But please pray for me as I seek God on how He wants me to live in the fall. Please pray with me about whether I should consider seeking teaching jobs on the side for the fall to help support myself financially, or if I should keep my energies focused as much as possibleas I have been known to spread myself thin. Pray that God continues to teach me how He wants me to relate to the financial resources He puts at my disposal and that I have the courage and the discipline to be obedient.

The shadow of faith...

Thu, 8 May 2008 00:00:00 GMT

On Sunday evening I went out to visit Pastor Jesus Blanco Martinez and worship with his church,Fe, Victoria y Amor. I brought American youth groups there for four weeks over the summer while working as a project facilitator at the Gateway. Each week the Americans crowded into the tiny church to worship, usually spilling out into the street, and served alongside Pastor Jesus to reach out to his colonia.

At Fe, Victoria y Amor the door of the church is always open because the borrowed, make-shift, three-sided church has no door. The congregation sits in plastic chairs on a concrete slab under a tin roof. The wall of the adjacent house makes one wall of the church and the other two walls are made of thin panels of wood. The humble structure is a jar of clay filled with the treasures of faith, love and open hearts.

During the summer I noticed sparrows nesting in the block wall that the church shares with the house next door and I was reminded of Psalm 84:3, "Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young-- a place near your altar, O LORD Almighty, my King and my God." This church is truly a home for sparrows, and God has his eye on each one of them.

During the first week of the summer, Pastor Jesus and his wife, Adrianna, showed us an empty lot two doors down from the church. They told us they were praying that God would give them the lot so they could move out of the space they were borrowing and construct a full building to house the church. Each week the groups that came to serve joined with them in that prayer, asking God to give them that particular lot. One American pastor even prophesied that they were going to get the lot for free. And I prayed, too. But I doubted.

One week I broke off with a few members of a youth group who felt led to pray for the land. They wanted to surround it, with someone standing in all four corners of the lot. But rain had flooded the colonias that week and left one of the back corners unreachable. Now, I didn't really believe that it was spiritually significant for someone to stand on every corner of the lot. And I couldn't ask one of the youth to risk the murky waters to get there. But I was a little bored. A little frustrated. A little spiritually dry. And so my stubborn streak and my need for adventure kicked in. I started wading through the filthy soup toward the back corner. About halfway out, what I thought would be an ankle deep venture became knee deep. I almost turned back. But then I thought, if I am already this far in, I might as well go stand on the stupid corner. So I did. And we prayed.

But even after that I never really believed that Pastor Jesus' and his church were going to get that lot. I counted my stunt one of foolish, silly, pridetrying to make something happen that I didn't really believe in anyway. There are so many complications with buying land here in Mexico. There was something about going through a "syndicate" who works for the factory that owns the colonia. And then there was this name, Dr. Gabriel Martinez. They said he owned the land. But no one knew who he was or where he was.

So last week, when a translator who was at the Gateway told me that Pastor Jesus' had gotten the land, I didn't believe it. I thought it must be another lot. Somewhere else. In the next colonia over. Not the one they wanted. Not the one I prayed for. So Sunday evening I went to visit my friends, to worship with them, and to see for myself. I worshiped with them in the familiar little building with no door. And then I stood with Pastor Jesus and Adrianna on the lot two doors down and I heard them tell how they finally got in touch with Gabriel Martinez, who had given the land to his dad. I heard how his dad came to the church and told Pastor Jesus that the lot was not for sale, but asked him what he wanted it for. I heard how when Pastor Jesus told him he wanted to build a church there, he said that they could have the land on one conditionthey must use it only for a church. And I heard how he told Pastor Jesus that he was not going to tell him how much to pay for the lot, that Pastor Jesus was going to set the price for the land. And I saw the twinkle in Adrianna's eye that told me they believe he is going to give them the lot for free. And then, shaking my head, I believed.

This summer we are going to again have groups working with Pastor Jesus and his church. Please pray that at this time next year God is still producing fruit for this body of believers from the ministry that happens with their American brothers and sisters over the summer. Thank God that He does use short term missions to produce long term fruit, both in the lives of those who go on the trips and in the communities where they minister. Thank Him for using this to reveal that it is not really about us anyway, it is not about how much faith fills our prayers, or how effective our strategies seem. It is just about joining with Him in what He is already doing and bearing witness to the works of His hand. Thank Him for using the foolish things to shame the wise, the weak things to shame the strong, and the things that are not to nullify the things that are. Thank Him for letting me see fruit!

"Because you have seen Me, have you believed? Blessed are they who did not see, and yet believed."

Matthew 22:29

Counting the Cost...

Thu, 1 May 2008 00:00:00 GMT

"Beware of the pleasant view of the Fatherhood of GodGod is so kind and loving that of course He will forgive usThe only ground on which God can forgive us is the tremendous tragedy of the Cross of Christ; to put forgiveness on any other ground is unconscious blasphemyForgiveness, which is so easy for us to accept, cost the agony of Calvary. It is possible to take the forgiveness of sin, the gift of the Holy Ghost, and our sanctification with the simplicity of faith, and to forget at what enormous cost to God it was all made ours. Forgiveness is the divine miracle of grace; it cost God the Cross of Jesus Christ before He could forgive sin and remain a holy GodThe revelation of God is that He cannot forgive; He would contradict His nature if He didGod's forgiveness is only natural in the supernatural domain. Compared with the miracle of the forgiveness of sin, the experience of sanctification is slight, sanctification is simply the marvelous expression of the forgiveness of sins in a human life, but the thing that awakens the deepest well of gratitude in a human being is that God has forgiven sinWhen once you realize all that it cost God to forgive you, you will be held as in a vice, constrained by the love of God." -Oswald Chambers

Just what, exactly, did it cost the Father to forgive my sin? I could spend eternity exploring the answer to this question and failing to successfully articulate the answer. In his book, Dangerous Wonder, Michael Yaconelli writes, "Alan Jones says that priests are not so much people with the answers as ones who guard the important questions and keep them alive.' The church exists to guard the important questions. Keep them alive. When the questions are kept alive, our souls have a chance of staying alive." This, I suspect, might be one of the important questionswhat did it cost the Father to forgive my sin? Let us keep the question alive, and meditate on some aspect of that expense.

Forgiving my sin cost the Father His very Son. My life has been filled with sincere Christ-followers who would sacrifice anything to obey His callexcept perhaps their children. I am not a parent. I do not know what it is like to be a mother. And at this point in my lifebelieve it or notI am, in fact, quite aware that I am neither a wife nor a mother. But thanks for the reminder, Mom. So confessing that, I proceed.

In a Christian world where family values are everything, the sacrifice of a child is almost unfathomable. After all, they depend on us. But the idea that God may call us to sacrifice family, and, yes, even children for the sake of the Kingdom is not without Biblical precedent. And I am not referring here to a call to lead a single life. It is the call for Abraham to sacrifice Isaac (Genesis 22). It is the words of Jesus, "If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sistersyes, even his own lifehe cannot be my disciple." It is our heavenly Father sacrificing His only Son on my account.

Is it possible that our families, our children even, can become idols? I cannot count the number of stories I have heard of parents making tremendous sacrifices for their children. But when it comes to sacrificing at our children's expense, that is where we balk. In America, we live for our children. Ifone day, when I am a motherGod calls me to do something that means my children will get less of my money, my time, my resourcesless of mewill I be willing? Will I sacrifice not just me, but "mine"? Will I trust God that if what He calls me to do leaves a void in my children's life, my family's life, that He will fill it with something bettersomething better than meperhaps even Himself? How do I balance that with the ministers that we are so quick to scorn for neglecting their families? Perhaps it applies not just to our families and our children, but to our friends, to those we disciple, to everyone who "depends" on us, to all those we are eager to lay down our lives forto those people for whom we long to be everything. Will I obey even when those very people may not understandmay hold it against memay feel bitter about not getting whatever part of me to which they feel entitled?

When will I stop trying to be all things to all people, finding that I always fall short, and just abide in Him and His all-sufficiency? Will I ever really believe that the very best thing I can do for my children or anyone else is to set the example of obedience to the call of Christ no matter what it costs, no matter the sacrifice, even when it means sacrificing the feelings of those I love the most? How can I not trust the One who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all, to graciously give me and them all things?

Just what did it cost the Father to forgive my sin? It is essential that we keep this question alive. Else we may begin to think about everything that we have earned, the vacations we deserve, the gratitude that is our due. We may forget that the only thing that has ever been owed to us is death. If we worked hard, persevered, endured hardships, and did our good deeds to earn spiritual retirement or a pat on the backrather than as the only appropriate response to His extravagant lovethen it was all for nothing (Rev. 2:1-5). Let us not forget our first love, lest we be tempted to call in our debtors and risk having our own debt called in (Matthew 18:21-35).

What did it cost the Father to forgive your sin? Keep the question alive

El Portal

Thu, 24 Apr 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Two weeks ago today, the Gateway was swarming with people. Over 300 participants and staff were gathered on the property for the final day of ministry in Johnson's Ferry Baptist Church's annual visit to Matamoros, Mexico. We spent weeks preparing for the arrival of the group from Marietta, Ga. and we worked to put the Gateway back in order after they left. For those of us who live here year-round, it can be easy to feel that they intrude on our solitude and overrun our home. But then we remember that this is, in fact, why we are here. It is why the Gateway existsto host the mission teams who have come to serve the people of Matamoros who have grown so dear to us. We are here to serve and to extend a gracious welcome to those who bring so much Life here.

The Kingdom is indeed here, if we but have eyes to see it. The groups that pass through the Gateway come in wide variety. They arrive with varying expectations, perspectives, and motivations. The temptation is to despise some of them for their "wrong" view of missions, their poor approach to evangelism, their "need" for a particular level of creature comforts. But again we remember that this is why we are here: to expose, to challenge, to look with compassion on the multitudes who sometimes arrive harassed and helpless like sheep without a shepherd. Life is hard for American teenagers. The battle for their hearts wages fiercely. Jesus told His followers that the Kingdom was in their midst (Luke 17:20-21). And so as the groups come in and go out we pray that the reign of Jesus expands not just through their ministry, but in their hearts.

I firmly believe that God has a specific and divine interest in every individual who steps on property. When I see a sea of faces, He knows the number of hairs on each head. The Gateway became a bustling hive during the week that JFBC was on propertyexcept for just after breakfast when a singular, quiet spell descended. I would look across the property and see the landscape dotted with colorful t-shirts. They filled the sidewalk that I walked to the office. And my heart came a little undone by the prospect that each one was, or at least might be, engaged with the Living God. Perhaps each heart was seeking Him. Each ear listening for His voice. Surely He would be drawn to that. To hundreds of hearts turned to Him in the same place, in the same moment.

It is in this barren place that people step away from all that is familiar, from all their distractions, and let God step into the void. And perhaps that is why so many people are drawn to return to the Gateway year after year and why so many of us who live here have fallen in love with this place. Thousands of American youth and adults have had intimate encounters with the Living God on this very propertymany hearing His voice for the first time. It is hallowed because in the midst of our brokenness, our lack of understanding and our flawed attempts at ministry, God has chosen to meet with us here. He graces us with His Presence and He fills the voids.

Yesterday I was talking with Juan Jose, a good friend who often works as a translator with our projects. He said it was important to him that things go well here at the Gateway. He said it is a holy place. "I recharge my batteries here," he said. Juan compared it to Bethel, where Jacob saw angels ascending and descending on a ladder reaching to heaven, and Peniel, where Jacob wrestled with Godsaw Him face to face and yet his life was preserved. I, too, believe that God's glory rests here in a special waybut it is mysterious to me. And who can stand under the weight of His glory? When the glory of God comes to rest on a person, often they are brokenlike Jacob's hip. And when things break curiously here at the Gateway, I wonder whether it is from the pressure of 300 people or the weight of His glory (II Cor. 4:16-18). Scripture tells us that where there is brokenness, God is near (Psalm 34:18).

The Kingdom is advancing here. Pray for us as we engage in the battle for the hearts of the groups we lead, for the Mexicans to whom we minister, for our own hearts, and for His glory.

Then Jacob awoke from his sleep and said, "Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it." He was afraid and said, "How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven."

Genesis 28:16-17

Hope

Tue, 1 Apr 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Matthew 5:3

Sitting in church on Sunday, I labeled this verse in my Bible as the most hopeful verse in Scripture. And so it has been often, in my experience. Here in Mexico my nearly automatic response to the frequent, friendly inquiry, "Como estas?" (How are you?), has become "Bendecida"blessed. Last week, however, the question more often drew an uncertain and unconvincing "Bien" (good) from my heavy heart. "No bendecida?" (Not blessed?), my Mexican friends would press, probably due more to the clouds in my eyes than the word choice. And I wished that I was better at concealing the rawness of my heart and at faking the smiling, cheerful response they have come to expect.

And then Sunday I remembered that I didn't have to fake it. I heard the voice of Jesus identifying the truly blessed on a mountainside 2,000 years agoand he was pointing out the spiritually impoverished, the mournful, the hungry, the thirsty, and the persecuted. These, I heard Him say, are the blessed, and yes, anne, that means there is hope for you, too.

So, then, it is the moments when I am most convinced of my own inadequacy, most aware of my own desperate need, most excruciatingly conscious that I am a spiritual destitute and that even all of my morality is inherently flawedahh, it is then that I am truly blessed. It is then that I can enter the Kingdom and begin to possess it. The Kingdom where a widow's copper coin is worth more than the gifts of the rich and where it is only by celebrating a prodigal's penniless return home that a brother can recognize the riches that have been his all along. It is when I give out of my poverty and not out of my wealth that my gift becomes precious. It is when I understand I have nothing to offer that I realize the full worth of all I have access to.

And so today, and last week, and for the last month, and always in this life, I am blessed. And I have hope. For if I know anything at all, I know that my spirit lives below the poverty line, that it is deprived far too often of its basic necessitiesthat it is starving. And the gnawing hunger keeps me coming for the Bread of Life (John 6:35), from whom I never go away hungry. And when I seek His Kingdom first, then I do not lack for anything else (Matthew 6:33).

I pray that we are so blessed that we do not fall under the rebuke of Revelation 3:17-18, "You say, I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.' But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see." And when we are so rebukedwhen like the emperor we realize that we were blinded by the lie and we stand naked and exposedI pray that we feel His love in it (Rev. 3:19). I pray that we will not cling to our curses as though they were blessings, nor shun our blessings as though they are curses. I pray that we remember that riches are found in poverty and strength is found in weakness.

"The poor in spirit are those who are truly aware of their sin and truly understand the hopelessness of their situation. It is the poor in spirit who are hungriest for God. They are hungry for God as the poor of this world are hungry for food. Being poor in spirit is not a temporary state." -Bob Beckwith

It's a wonderful life

Mon, 31 Mar 2008 00:00:00 GMT

When I came to Mexico it was not to save lost souls. I came to save my own soul. And it is surely being savedeven or especially from myself. Bonds are being cut. Death comes to that which needs to die, promising new life in its wake. And I am reminded that freedom is often won on a battlefield and that the battle is not always pretty, that salvation was purchased by the blood of the cross.

The last month and a half has been immensely challenging. I have struggled on several fronts. But I believe it has been a good struggle. A purposeful struggle. In the beginning, I forgot who I am and why I am here (not here in Mexicobut here on earth). Why this life? Why do I live and breathe and walk this earth? What is the point of all this living? Why can't I be with Jesus now? All questions I have asked before, but I either could not remember the answers, or the old answers no longer satisfied.

Emotions swarmed in truly unfamiliar territory. Where I have always entered life head first, suddenly I was entering heart first and I could not process it. I felt like I was losing my mind. I seriously considered shaving my head for about 24 hours. God told me to light up the darkness, but when darkness came close to home I felt as though my light was shrinking before it. I longed to retreat into the light. I feared being stained by the darkness. I felt isolated in it. I wrestled with answering God's call to confront darkness and the possibility of being influenced by it.

I value the opinions of others too highly. I define myself by what they think of me. I seek their approval rather than their best interest. I completely identified with a statement in an email from a close friend, "I felt overwhelmingly like I am absolutely too much, and yet never going to be enough at the same time." At one point I wrote,"I am tired of failing. I feel more selfish and prideful than ever before and therefore I feel like a worse person. However I have a sneaking suspicion that I am not actually a worse person, but that I am simply realizing my own depravity. Therefore I feel less lovely and I choose not to let God love me in my unloveliness. And thus I struggle." I kept trying to love others in their unloveliness without letting God love me in mine. I feel inadequate, insecure. I have nothing to offer.

I have been confused. I lack understanding. I have been uncertain of everything but God. And that is where the light breaks inbecause I have been certain of God, unlike in the last season of significant struggle in my life. Though I am certain only of Him, that makes all the difference. Until probably a year and a half ago, I don't think I was ever thankful for life in a real sense. At some level I viewed it as something that was forced upon me that I must simply make the best of. Somewhere in the depths I resented that I was given no say in the matter of my existence and yet I was still accountable for it, for finding and believing Truthwhich seemed so far off and inscrutable. But now, even in the midst of struggle, confusion, and darkness, I find that my heart is screaming thankfulness for an opportunity to live this life. I am thankful, simply for the opportunity to exist in this world, for the chance to experience it with all five senses, to know its beauty and its pain, and above all to know Jesus. Life has become so precious, whatever it brings, in a way that I cannot explain. Now nothing seems so dreadful as being without existence at all, without any opportunity of ever encountering Him in His glory, His splendor, His redemption, His awfulness, His love.

Discovering that God had birthed such gratitude in my heart, gratitude that remained not just in 2007a year so full of lightbut also in a season of darkness, inspired hope. When life ceased to make sense, I was reminded that it is not supposed to make sense for I was not made for this world. And that made sense. Though I do not know the purpose of the struggle, I know that there is purpose. And that is enough.

Over and over again, I have seen God's strength being made perfect in my weakness. In a week where I've never felt pulled in so many directions or had so many distractions in so many areas of my life, I got to lead the best missions project that I've ever been a part of with Adventures in Missions. I was touched by the character of a group of college students from Samford University and richly encouraged by the transformation occurring in them and through them as they helped a family renovate their home into a drug rehab, built a relationship with Francisca, a young pregnant woman in the local prison, and visited with Roberto, a lonely aging alcoholic, who wept as we shared scriptures with him. After missing several of my weekly visits with Carmen, my friend in the Ejido with whom I study the Bible, I went to her house for dinner and heard her husband talking about God for the first time. In the midst of my brokenness, others see Jesus in me. He reveals Himself. I discover how little really depends on me.

After running only two or three times in February, I was reminded, once again, that running is a gift that God has given me to deal with and process this life. That running keeps my mental health in balance in a way that medicine does for others. That if I do not take my medicineenjoy the gift of runningthen I am no good for others.

Pray for my intimacy with Jesus. Pray that when distractions come crashing in, that I will see Jesus in them and fix my eyes on Him. Pray that I put on the armor of light with confidence.

Learning to love

Thu, 17 Jan 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Proverbs 4:23

Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life.

Throughout my whole life, my dad has told me to guard my heart. It is a part of almost every letter he writes me (and there are many), it is often in his emails, and it is usually spoken when he tells me goodbye. Somehow I have always inferred that this directive is in reference to my relationships with the opposite sex. And I'm pretty sure that it is, at least for the most part.

My dad was a high school football coach for more than three decades until he retired from coaching this year. He continues to teach high school English. Over the years, I also heard him talk a lot about the importance of protecting the football. So my heart became analogous to the football in my mindit was something to maintain possession of. It was something to keep away from the other team at any cost. And how do you identify the other team when it comes to matters of the heart? Well, surely they are the ones chasing you, trying to take it away from youand if they manage to catch up, you're supposed to throw them a Heisman and keep trucking towards the endzone. Don't give your love away easily.

As much as I appreciate my dad's advice and know that there is truth in it, lately I have begun to think that the Bible may be referring to something quite different when it talks about guarding the heart. In some senses, I think that we as humans, or at least as Americans, are generally pretty good at guarding our hearts. We construct a lot of walls around our hearts that I'm not sure God ever intended us to have. If someone hurts us, we are prone to shut them out of at least some part of our heart so that they cannot hurt us againwe guard our hearts. We are careful not to love too deeplyor at least to bury our love deeplylest the other person not return our love in equal measurewe guard our hearts. I see it here in the Mexican ejido where I live. Everyone is friendly and welcoming and hospitable. And yet there is something in their eyes that whispers of a guarded placethat says not to love the Americans too deeply, not to give them your heart and not to become attached, for as soon as you do they leave and take your heart with themso my neighbors guard their hearts. The world tells us to be careful with our hearts. The world tells us not to give our hearts to those who we cannot trust to take care of them. To those who have a track record of causing pain to others. To those who might leave one day. To those who might not be there for us when we think we need them most. To those who have already let us down. And especially to those who might not love us in returnwho might reject or spurn our love. And so we guard our hearts.

But I cannot help considering how many times Jesus has extended His heart to me and how ashamed I am of how careless I am with it. When I read the Bible, I read of a God who continually puts His faith in a faithless peopleextending His heart to them again and again no matter how little regard they have for it. I don't think that Jesus guarded His heart in His relationships with the disciples. He knew that Judas would betray Him and that the rest would abandon Him in His darkest hour. Jesus would not have made a very good football player. He didn't hold onto the ball. In fact, He straight up turned it over to the other teamthey didn't strip it, or wrestle it from Him, He gave it up on purpose. Jesus knew that His followers would all fail Him and grieve Him countless times in countless ways. And yet He did not guard His heart. He gave it to them completely and unconditionally. He loved without reserve. How, then, can I put limits and conditions on the love I give, when the love I have received is so limitless? How can I decide not to give my heart to those who may bring me grief, when Jesus has given His heart to me? How can I say that I "deserve" someone who will always be careful with my heart when I have been so careless, so indifferent, with His?

Mark 7:21-23

For from within, out of men's hearts, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance and folly. All these evils come from inside and make a man unclean.'

Don't get me wrong. I do think that we should be careful about what we let into our hearts. The Bible does say, after all, that we are to guard our hearts. But what does that mean? I think that we should be careful about what we let into our hearts and not so careful about who we let into our hearts. We need a deeper understanding of Christ's limitless love. And if as much evil lies within our hearts as Jesus contends, then I think that guarding our hearts may be as much about what we let out of them as it is about what we let in. Without God's hand upon my heart, guarding it, I would be in a sorry state. If left to my own devices it would not take long for me to succumb to the folly of my heartto be betrayed by it.

Certainly I think that we need to be careful about the position we give people in our hearts. I have seen many people very dear to me have their hearts shattered. Sometimes the shattering came about as Jesus' heart must have been shattered by His disciples, from sharing in the sufferings of Christ. At other times the shattering came about because the individual began to find their hope in another person more than in Jesus.

So perhaps that is the "heart" of the matter. Perhaps guarding our hearts is really just about keeping them set upon Jesusabout allowing nothing and no one else to take His place, about not forsaking our first love. And perhaps, too, it is about not allowing sin or inflicted wounds to harden our hearts, keeping them soft and vulnerable instead. Perhaps it is about being careful to embrace the pain that comes from truly loving someone else rather than avoiding it. Perhaps when we fix our hopes solely in Him, we will learn to love with His reckless abandon and come to a new comprehension of both the height and the depth of His love. And so I pray for you, (if you have made it this far down my blog) "that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledgethat you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God" (Ephesians 3:17-19).

Abundant Life

Thu, 10 Jan 2008 00:00:00 GMT

I'm back. And glad to be back. Not just glad, but immensely grateful for the life I am being given the opportunity to live. Yes, I am busy. The pace of my life does not slow down when I cross the border. And yes, being out of town for three weeks means that there is catching up to do. But my heart still aches, swollen by the beauty that threatens to burst it, when I stand on my back porch and behold the painted Mexican sky over the tall grasses teasing in the wind at sunset. The landscape is barren here, but somehow I find that God always fills the voids.

Over the course of my three week holiday I saw great beauty in San Francisco, on the breathtaking, snow-blanketed height of Yosemite point, amidst the brokenness of Los Angeles' skid row, on a snowy night at the Grand Canyon, in the love of my familywelcoming a steady stream of my friends through the door of their home nestled in the North Georgia mountains, and in the best New Year's experience of my life spent in a delightfully rustic North Carolina home, surrounded by a group of people very dear to me, led in worship by a man who carried the beauty and the presence of Jesus as I have never witnessed before. And many times during that trip I tried to explain to people who love me just exactly what it is that I am doing here in Mexico and exactly why I find it so fulfilling. And I failed.

I often ask myself why it is that I love this place so much. Especially after going on a cross-country tour that spanned so many incredible places and finding that through it all my joy was enhanced by the knowledge that this was the place I would be coming back to. I cannot articulate an answer to the question. Just God. That's it. Why is buying the engine cooler for Van 20 and the oil heater for our diesel generator, purchasing ink cartridges and desktop calendars for the office, keeping track of vehicle files, inspections, registration, and insurance, reconciling receipts, making phone calls, interviewing summer staff applicants, and spending a lot of time in front of the computer to answer emails and write this silly blog so much more fulfilling for me than keeping track of sports stats and athletes' files, answering phones and questions about obscure sports facts, scanning pictures, setting up athlete interviews, compiling quotes from coaches and athletes, walking sidelines, and spending a lot of time in front of a computer to make media guides and write silly press releases?

Three years ago this month I was working as a student assistant in sports communications for the University of Georgia athletic department when my boss, a man whom I deeply respect and for whom I consider it an esteemed privilege to have worked, offered me an internship that would have put me on the career track I coveted and behind the scenes at glamorous (and not so glamorous) sports events. And I walked away. It makes me shudder. I shudder when I think about how close I came to accepting the offer. Why does that possibility make me feel like I have been delivered from something so achingly empty? All I can say is that I am unspeakably grateful to know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that I was redeemed from the empty way of lifeespecially making media guideshanded down to me, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect (I Peter 1:18-19).

And then, maybe it really is all mental after all. Maybe the simple fact that I am employed by a missions organization makes it easier for me to feel as though I am working for the Lord and not for men and to work at whatever I am doing with all my heart (Colossians 3:23-24), experiencing the tremendous sense of purpose that results from such a perspectivesomething that in reality I could be doing anywhere, in almost any job. Maybe my flesh is just so weak (or so strong?) that the easiest way for me to guard my heart from getting caught up in the world, from losing sight of what is most important, from losing eternal perspective, from forsaking the "one thing," is to be in a job where at least technically that is literally a part of the job description.

In the end, all I really know is that my heart is alive. The heart that felt like a cold, hard, heart of stone through most of 2006 made a u-turn in 2007. And I entered 2008 still exploring the spacious places that God led me into in 2007. I feel indulgent when my job description starts to include an intensive New Testament reading plan, along with being discipled by a woman I love and respect and continuing to build my relationship with Carmen, my beautiful Mexican friend who is so hungry to know God. In the back of my mind lurks the thought that things can only be so good for so long and that I should be ready for everything to come crashing down at any moment, but I know that whatever my future holds, God will be good in the midst of it. (And if my future holds many more moments like the one in which Benito just oinked in my office door and scared the living daylights out of meit won't be a very long one. I screamed. Literally. He thought it was really funny.)

As I enter 2008, I ask you to pray that as I work for a missions organization I will not get caught up in tasks that I am given, that I will not lose sight of what is most important, and that God will refresh and deepen my eternal perspective and my intimacy with Him. Please pray that that He will be very clear with me about where I am to be investing my time and that I will be obedient. Pray that He will revive my prayer life. Pray that He will guard my heart. Pray also for Carmen. Her pursuit of the Lord is often resisted and she has been physically run downwith headaches and muscle achesand has been on a bit of an emotional roller coaster for the last two weeks for no reason that she can identify. Pray that she will be encouraged by the Lord and that her friendship with Him will deepen.

Words

Thu, 13 Dec 2007 00:00:00 GMT

I am a writer. Whether I want to be or not. Probably not a great writer. But as I scan the lengthy blogs that I have posted this fall, I know that there is no avoiding this fact. I am not at all implying that length qualifies as good writing. After a brief stint writing for newspapers, I am well aware that this is not the case. I simply note that when I face the task of writing something, whether it be an email or an article for publication, I feel compelled to write. I cannot simply put words on a page. I agonize over word choice. I have a deep appreciation for Mark Twain's assertion that, "the difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightening and the lightening bug." And I battle an obsessive-compulsive need to leave nothing unsaid. To tell the whole story. To be painfully thorough. Hence the length of these blogs that I expect few will take the time to read. But for some bizarre reason, if I am actually going to take the time to write, I care more that I record every thought, that I capture every idea I have had and every conclusion that I have reached, than I care whether anyone actually reads what I have to say. It only matters that I have made it availablethat if there is any benefit that may be drawn from it the opportunity is now presented. And there is a freedom that comes from putting the words on the page. Once my thoughts appear in black and white, once they are brought into the light of day, I no longer feel obliged onto hold them in my brain. I no longer fear that I will forget.

I find it interesting that novels and other printed works often represent the written word as something powerfulsupremely powerful. Books are after all written by writers. And writers are usually those who find words to be supremely powerfulor at least the most powerful tool to which they are privy. So why would they not venerate the power of the very tool they possess? And are there other things that have the capacity to be equally potent, but are less so because writers do not give them equal credit with their words? And, coming full circle, I suppose therein lies the supreme power of words. They can give or deny power to nearly everything else. But they cannot relinquish their own intrinsic power. And so I find myself in possession of a power that I do not wantthat I sometimes wish to be rid of. Indeed, words are powerful for I am bound to them. Even as I try to use words against themselves, to discredit their power, I find that in my attempt I have only substantiated the very power that I set out to refute. In trying to escape, I am tied even more inextricably to my captor. And I remember that Jesus is the Living Word. Supremely powerful. He that can give or deny power to everything else, but cannot relinquish the power that is His intrinsically. Revealed in the question, "Can God make a rock so heavy that He cannot lift it?" I find that I am bound to this Living Word. That when I try to escape His power, His charms, I find myself even more inextricably bound to Him. He is truly an irresistible Captor.

Yet even having said all this, I must address this frustration. I do not think that it is possible to write something revolutionary. Everything revolutionary thing that could be said has already been written. Perhaps it is even all contained within Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Song of Solomon, the three books penned by Solomon, the wisest man who ever lived. The only revolutionary thing that remains is to live out what has already been written down. Philippians 3:16 says, "Only let us live up to what we have already attained." This is often my desperate prayer. Why should I waste my time with words, reading another book or writing another sentence about how I should live, if I am not living out the truth that I already know? I don't need someone else to tell me that I should share my faith more, or how to share itI already know that, I just don't do it. Nor do I need to tell anyone else that they should share their faith more, or have more faith, or give more money away, or live more simplyor perhaps more extravagantlywhen I don't do it myself. All that remains is for me to live it out. Sometimes I think that the only thing worth reading at this point are the stories of those who have dared to live out what has already been written downthe stories of revolutionary, radical lives, His stories. I could wax eloquent here about the power of stories, but I will spare you. But maybe that is the only revolutionary thing left to be written, the stories of revolutionary lives. And if ever I write, that is what I want to writewhether it is your story or mine.

What if?

Sat, 8 Dec 2007 00:00:00 GMT

Thursday I woke up and turned on the TV to a local Texas station headlining the story of the mall shooting in Nebraska that left eight dead. My heart sank and my thoughts ran back to the Virginia Tech shooting that so recently shook the nation. One more reminder that even in the United States, we are not really "safe." Not in our airports, not in our schools, not in our shopping malls.

Later, I crossed the border from Mexico into Texas on a mission to price tractors and backhoes at various dealerships in the Rio Grande Valley where we purchase most of our supplies for the Gateway. At the checkpoint where the United States border patrol questions all cars entering the country, I told the border guard I was a missionary. This border guard, who is known for being particularly thorough, asked me, "Aren't you afraid of the violence over there (in Mexico)?" I hesitated, then said no.

"I just saw on the news this morning where there was a mall shooting in Nebraska," I told him.

"Yeah," he said. "But over here we catch the bad guys." He mentioned a shooting in another Mexican border town where there were no arrests and then sent me on my way. I drove away thinking that if I was one of the eight dead people in Nebraska, I probably would not really care whether anybody caught the bad guy or not. Plus, I was pretty sure that the "bad guy" had killed himself anyway. Not much need for the police to catch him. I wondered at the fact that the border guard, a grown man wearing a uniform and trained to use weapons, seemed more afraid than me. The encounter left me pondering one of my recurring questions, should I be more afraid? Is it simply ignorant of me to not fear the danger I hear so many rumors of but rarely feel? What if something happens to me? I decided that I found the prospect of "something" happening a little more appealing than the prospect of "nothing" happening.

My backseat passenger for the day was three year-old Lillian Wilson. Several miles down the road we were involved in a dangerous collision with a pick-up truck turning left onto the highway. Traveling 55mph, I attempted to swerve out of the way but could not avoid the truck as it slammed into the passenger-side door of the Montero I was driving. The Montero will likely be totaled, but no one was injured in the accident. Something happened to me. It happened on the "safe" Texas highways and not in the frenzied traffic of Matamoros. Something happened to me. And yet, nothing happened. Nothing was broken that cannot be fixed, or at least replaced. Lillian and I were completely unharmed. One day later I am not sore from the accident.

But what if something more serious had happened? Injury?...or even death? What if something had really happened? Surely there is always the potential that something might happen to me. Something "bad". No matter where I live. No matter how many precautions I take. The only thing I can control is whether or not I am going to let fear rob me of life. Whether I am going to let it consume my thoughts, my time, my energy, and my money. Now, the fear that led me to buckle my seat belt yesterdaythat was probably a healthy fear. But that fear did not immobilize me. It did not keep me from going somewhere or doing something. It is the fear that immobilizes that scares me the most. The "what if" that truly makes me shudder is, "what if I miss out on something incredible that God wants to show me because I am afraid?" The enemy who comes only to "steal, kill, and destroy" wields his most potent weapon so skillfully to separate us from the abundant life that Jesus came to give us (John 10). In fact, I sometimes wonder if fear is his only weapon. Colossians 2:15 tells us that Jesus "disarmed the powers and authorities, He made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross." If the enemy has truly been disarmedthen perhaps all he can really do is create fear in my life. Fear that God is not really in control, or that He does not really intend good things for my life, or that He really doesn't know what is in my best interest.

God never promised me that nothing would happen to me. In truth, God really isn't all that "safe." In fact, He promised that things would "happen" to me. And maybe that's what I am buying into after all, what keeps me hooked. Not an insurance plan, but an adventure. And He did promise me that when things do happen to me, He will be with me in the midst of them. He promised me that when He allows something to happen to me, He will always use it for my ultimate good.

The glory of it all!

Thu, 29 Nov 2007 00:00:00 GMT

Thanksgiving came and went at the Gateway, bringing even more charm to my ejido with the white Christmas lights that now grace the eaves of Nena's tienda and many of the houses. For me, the holiday weekend was a gift that brought friends from far away, more ability to relax than I hoped for, a great football game to yell at on TV, and a grateful heart. It was the refreshment that I needed to finish the year here strong. I found myself giving thanks simply for the grace to believe, the ability to have faith in a God who cannot be confined by human logic and reason. I also found myself giving thanks for the woman who disciples me here, Kathryn Wilsonthird grade teacher and mother of five. I live a lot of life with her family here, but she also devotes at least one hour each week to simply pouring into my life. It is a privilege that I looked forward to for a long time, but that I have valued even more after a trip I took with her in August.

At the end of the summer Kathryn traveled with three other girls from the Gateway staff and me into the interior of Mexico where we climbed one of the peaks of the famous Cerro de la Silla that overlooks the sprawling city of Monterreythe city of the mountains. I have now visited this fantastic city twice. It is nestled in the rugged Sierra Madres, and perhaps my favorite feature is the splendor of the sunset each evening over the majestic Cerro de las Mitras that sits due West from the Cerro de la Silla.

The first evening we were there with Kathryn, we checked into a hotel, ate dinner, and then began searching for a decent spot to view the impending display of grandeur as the sun sank low. Monterrey is full of tall buildings and I knew that we would have to climb something in order to get a satisfactory view of the sunset. My preference would have been a belfry of one of the many ornate Catholic cathedrals, but as it became apparent that gaining access there would be more of a feat than we were prepared to attempt, I was willing to settle for anything. And the lower the sun sank, the more frantic our search became. The city's streets were clogged with people headed home from work and vendors closing shop. It is a travesty to me that the entire city does not stop to drink in the sunset there each nightthat the wonder of it could be lost on anyonethat it is possible to be desensitized to its glory. (Which in itself cautions me to consider how desensitized I am to the glory of God that is displayed daily in my life.)

At last we resorted to a three story parking deck. On the top level, a metal roof was erected to provide shelter for the cars parked there. Kathryn immediately boosted Becka up one of the posts supporting the roof so she could climb on top for the best available viewing the deck could afford. Then Kathryn looked at me and I knew that I was next. I hesitated for a split second as the situation flooded my heart with significance. It was obvious that once she lifted me up, there would be no chance of her achieving the roof top. She would be left to watch the sunset from the surface of the parking deck. In a sense, she was lifting me up to a place that she could never go. The unselfishness of the act struck me and I knew at a deeper level how privileged I would be to have this woman disciple me. Would I have done the same? Would I have been willing to help someone else get somewhere I wanted to be, knowing that if I did, I couldn't go myself? And I was forced to decide if I would take the offer to climb higher, knowing that she would be left below.

As I watched the sunset from the rooftop that night, I was so grateful for the woman who lifted me upand for all the other people throughout my life who have unselfishly lifted me to places that I could not have reached without them, but that they could never go with me. It is humbling to consider all that I have been given.

Indeed, how singular is the God who stoops down to make me great and enables me to stand on the heights? (Psalm 18:31-36) Who is this God who came to serve? (Mark 10:45) Who washes the feet of men? (John 13:1-17) Surely this in itself distinguishes Him from all the other gods of the nationswhose glory is wrought by human hands (Acts 17:24-25). Since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides Him, who acts on behalf of those who wait for Him (Isaiah 64:4). All glory belongs to HimHe glorifies Himselfand because His glory is derived from Himself and not from men, He is able to act on behalf of those who wait for Him. He glorifies Himself in us (Isaiah 48:10-11). And we bear witness to it all!

The Forecast

Thu, 15 Nov 2007 00:00:00 GMT

Yesterday when I showed up at Carmen's house for our weekly Bible study, I found her taking small jackets, sweat pants, and other warm clothes off her clothes line. "They are for Josue'," She said, indicating her three year-old. "Because it will be cold tomorrow."

I took this information in, remembering the morning weather report I watched on an American station that said we would have highs in the 80s all week, and I wondered who would turn out to be right. Later during our time, Josue' cried out, "Mira!" indicating a long line of ants trailing along the wall where it came together with the ceiling. "Yes, " Carmen said. "It's because the cold is coming tonight." I wondered what qualifies as cold to a native of Matamoros, Mexico and whether the impending cold had the ants moving in or out.

Hours later I woke in the middle of the night with the wind gusting outside my window and rattling the empty glass bottles of mineral water on my window sill. I decided Carmen was going to be right after all. I wondered where she got her informationwhose forecast she listened to. And as I got up to take the bottles off the window sill I began to think about how what we choose to put our faith in affects the way we live our lives. Ultimately, whether or not Josue's warm clothes were clean and ready to wear today was not a matter of life or death for Carmen. But because she had good information, she was prepared. Now that we are reading the Bible together, I wonder why she values what I have to say about God's Word. What makes me credible to her? And why do I think she should stake everything she has on the information and the forecast that God's Word offers? Today I will teach my first Bible study open to all the ladies in Ejido Buenos Aires. I plan to discuss the authority of God's Word with them and how it should affect our lives. Pray that God will communicate to them the infinite worth of His Living Word that endures forever.

A passage that has resonated with me this year as I have sought to live out God's plan for my life is Deuteronomy 11:10-12, which describes the promised land. "The land you are entering to take over is not like the land of Egypt, from which you have come, where you planted your seed and irrigated it by foot as in a vegetable garden. But the land you are crossing the Jordan to take possession of is a land of mountains and valleys that drinks rain from heaven. It is a land the Lord your God cares for; the eyes of the Lord your God are continually on it from the beginning of the year to its end." This description of the promised land definitely appeals to my desire for adventureI love mountains and valleys. But when God invites us to begin to live on His promises we must leave behind a lot of the things that make us feel safe. For most of us, it is far too easy to live in the land of predictabilitywhere our crops are irrigated and the land is flat so we can always see what is coming next. Yeswe may be slaves to our culture, but our salaries, our bank accounts, our insurance policies, our central heat and air, and our political system bring us peace of mindwe don't have to trust in God's provision. The mountains and valleys of the promised land are stunning, but they also keep me from being able to see what is coming nextthey make it unpredictable. And I have to depend on the rain from heaven to water my crops. I have to bank on God's forecastthat He knows the end of the year from the beginning, and knowing it, He will care for all my needs. Yesterday was an unpredictable day in many ways, my boss's three year-old daughter was throwing up, our secretary's computer shut down, and I drove nearly 30 minutes for a fuse I could have found five minutes down the road. But in the end it was a day of grace as I found myself living in the fulfillment of God's promises.

This lifestyle represents a promised land for me in many ways as I have been embraced by the local community. On Saturday I went to two birthday parties and ate five times without cooking or paying for any of it. I have been invited to weddings, birthday parties, and family gatherings. Two weeks ago, Lula, Carmen's mother-in-law, invited me over to watch her kill a chicken and prepare caldo (kind of a chicken soup). She actually killed two. The second escaped while she was removing the first from the chicken house, which resulted in women and children chasing this specific chicken through all the other poultry scratching in the yard. I observed the whole process, from chicken house to Lula's deft wringing of the neck, to the plucking process, to the cutting board and the gutting and cleaning, to the pot, and finally to my stomach in a matter of hours. After serving the children, Lula pulled out a big serving bowl and said, "anna, this bowl is for me. I eat a lot." I laughed, caught off guard by what I thought was a joke from the very reserved Mexican lady. Lula, however, proceeded to eat two servings of the caldo from the large serving bowl while her husband grinned and talked about how much more she ate than him. Carmen's portion of choice from the chicken is the foot. She convinced me that it was a delicacy. So I tried my first chicken foot. And never could figure out exactly what I was supposed to consumeit was all bone and gristle. I also learned that the requirements for Carmen when she graduated high school included killing a chicken and a pig.

Fish Stories

Thu, 8 Nov 2007 00:00:00 GMT

This week I have been carrying something in my heart that God spoke to me at the Gateway in 2006, just before the first summer project. I came down here that summer empty, dry, and dead inside after spending five months in what felt like an endless spiritual night. My soul had lost purpose, direction, and above all hope. So I came to the Gateway to lead a work crew, ready to WORKhoping to lose myself in the workand wondering what on earth I could offer those kids as a spiritual leader.

As our staff came together that summer for a couple of days of training, our leaders sent us off one morning to spend four hours with a little booklet called a sitdown with Jesus that was supposed to guide us through a time of listening to the Lord. Everything inside me balked. At that point, the hardest thing anyone could have asked me to do was to spend four hours alone with my own mental depravity trying to pretend that God might be speaking to me. The overriding message from the last five months was that either God wasn't real, or that He was terribly real and He had given up on me.

But in those four hours God met with me. There had been lifelinesthe briefest glimpses of lightthat kept me walking through the last five months. But nothing like the clarity, hope, assurance, peace, and life that God Himself spoke to me as I sat in the shade of a one room school building across the road from the Gateway.

In that encounter God impressed on me two different instances in the Bible where Peter has been out fishing all night long and comes up empty. The first is in Luke 5:4-11, and precedes Peter's calling to become a fisher of men, and the second is in John 21:1-14, following Jesus' death and resurrection. In both passages Peter and his companionsall seasoned fishermenspend all night fishing and return to shore with nothing to show for the long, dark labor. Then, Jesus shows up and tells them to let down their nets again and they come up with a catch so large they can't haul in the nets. In Luke, their nets begin to break, they have to call in back-up, and the boats literally start to sink. Now, I don't think Jesus' directive in Luke to "put out into deep water" and in John to cast their nets on the other side of the boat represent a fishing hole they passed over or some innovative new technique for catching fish. I don't think He was telling the disciples to do something different than they had done all night long. And out of respectful obedience, probably full of doubtwith an "if you say so" attitudethey comply and their nets are filled to overflowing. The only difference was that Jesus showed up.

I think there are times, especially for those in long term ministry, where God has to send us out fishing on our own all night until we become convinced that no matter how seasoned we are as fishermanno matter how much we know about the Bible, no matter how much time we spend in prayer, no matter how actively we evangelize and discipleour ministry will be fruitless until Jesus shows up. We must be convinced that the fruits of our ministry are not the result of our skill and dedication as fisherman, but they are simply the results of the Presence of Jesus.

For five long months I had been dedicated to the prayer room and my nets were pretty empty. People were supporting me to pray and I had nothing to show for it. I didn't feel holy for doing it and most of the time I didn't even want to do it. Instead of feeling closer to God after all that time in prayer, I felt alienated and alone. And then Jesus shows up and He says, try it again. Keep pursuing prayer, spend another year raising support to be a prayer intern. Keep doing ministry. Keep throwing your nets out. "Like Peter, you have been out fishing all night in your own strength and you have caught nothing. Only I can fill your nets. Simply be faithful with what I bring you. You CANNOT produce fruit that I do not produce in you. Do not let the failures/emptiness of the past keep you from following Me now." Essentially He says keep doing what you are doing and wait for me to show up.

When ministry is fruitless, it is so easy to think that we need to change what we are doing. We think we need a new technique for evangelism, a new formula for prayer, a new method for Bible study to attract people to Jesus. We think we need to change the bait we're using. But the truth is, Jesus has to be the bait Himself. I have come into a spacious placea promised land of sortsand my nets are filled to overflowing, even breaking and beginning to sink my boat at times with the fruitful ministry opportunities before me. And I know that it is because Jesus has showed up. Yes, I am in a new place now. But even before I left Athens, Jesus was filling my nets in 2007. And I knew that it was Jesus. I hadn't changed what I was doing. But I was changing. My nets are still being filled. I know that Jesus has shown up, not so much because of outward fruit in my ministry, but because of the love, joy, and peace that I know in almost everything I do.

Psalm 84

Thu, 1 Nov 2007 00:00:00 GMT

How lovely is Your dwelling place,

O Lord Almighty!

Incredibly, our great and mysterious God has chosen human beings to be His habitation. He has made our bodies to be His temple. His Spirit dwells within those who have been washed in the blood of Jesus, and with the Psalmist I exclaim, "How lovely!" I am lovely because the Spirit of the Living God dwells within me. But more than this, I see the beauty of His dwelling place in the believers who surround me on a daily basis. I see it in the Mexican pastor, Hilario, who is visiting the office as I write this. I see it in Carmen, the lady I am privileged to disciple each week. I see it in Thomi and Kathryn Wilson and their children who have opened their homes and their lives to me as I make a home in Mexico. I see it in the Gateway staff: Febe, David, Cosme, Jacobo, and Ciro. I have seen it in MaryEllen, my sixty-eight year-old roommate and predecessor of sorts who left just this morning to return to her home in Georgia. How lovely is Your dwelling place, O Lord Almighty!

My soul yearns, even faints,

for the courts of the Lord;

My heart and my flesh cry out

for the living God.

Is this true of me? Does my soul yearn, does it faint for the courts of the Lord? I can remember seasons where it hasseasons where it felt as though my heart and my very flesh were crying out in desperation to know that God was living, and more, that He was actually living in me. This is where I was in the spring of 2006. Now I feel surrounded by His life. I still have hard days. I still get sick. I still lose money. I still feel stress. I still get tired. I still fail to share the gospel as though I believed it were real. But my heart is alive. I know that God's hand is upon my lifethat He has been good to me and that He loves me. My soul finds rest in this.

Even the sparrow has found a home,

and the swallow a nest for herself,

where she may have her young

a place near your altar,

O Lord Almighty, my King and my God.

Blessed are those who dwell in your house;

they are ever praising you.

Truly God has made a home for me here. He has provided abundantly for all my needs. I live in a beautiful Mexican casita. I am fed by people who love me on a regular basis. I am nested in a community with a beautiful variety of age and culture. I feel cared for by God Himself.

Blessed are those whose strength is in you,

who have set their hearts on pilgrimage.

As they pass through the Valley of Baca,

they make it a place of springs;

the autumn rains also cover it with

pools.

They go from strength to strength,

till each appears before God in Zion.

Several pilgrims have walked before me on the path I am now on. I know that they found it, at times, to be a dry valley. But they have left the Gateway a place of springs for me! I walked through my own dry valley in 2006. I know that abundant life exists on the other side of the valley of the shadow of death. I know that believers who pass through the valley of the shadow of death fill it with light for those who come after. I know that strength is gained in the journey and that it becomes Life not only for the pilgrim but also for those who come after. I am thankful for those who have passed here before me, for the strength they have gained and the strength they have shared.

Hear my prayer, O Lord God Almighty;

listen to me, O God of Jacob.

Look upon our shield, O God;

look with favor on your anointed one.

Better is one day in your courts

than a thousand elsewhere;

I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God

than dwell in the tents of the wicked.

The pastor of the church in our ejido has asked me to start teaching a Bible study for women. Life is peaceful and tranquil here for the most part. But spiritual life in the ejido can also seem stagnant. Many of the people acknowledge God, but I wonder how many would say, "Better is one day in Your courts than a thousand elsewhere." I have felt pretty strongly in the last several years that it's a good idea to be a part of the church in the community where you live, rather than looking for the church with the best programs, preaching, etc. However, as the rubber meets the road, I find myself located near a church that by most standards would be called dry. I struggle to know what church should look like here. Right now it looks like a service two or three times a week, where a handful of people come and struggle to worship through song and preaching that often leave something to be desired. So what does church mean? What is it that makes the psalmist say, "I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked." I hesitate to insist that Carmen (the lady I disciple) should make an effort to attend a dry church. But if those who are beginning to hunger for the Word of God do not attend the church, who will stir the hunger there? I do not always long to be in a church building or to attend a service, but I do long for the Lifegiving fellowship of believers and the presence of the living God who dwells within them. I long for my neighbors to taste and see how good our God can beto taste of Him in a way that causes them to lose their taste for everything elsethe taste that produces holy dissatisfaction. Pray that God will establish His church here. Pray that I will know how to be a part of it. Pray that when I come together with these women, that God will prepare a feast for us.

For the Lord God is a sun and shield;

the Lord bestows favor and honor;

no good thing does He withhold

from those whose walk is blameless.

O Lord Almighty,

blessed is the man who trusts in You.

Like all growing things, I need both sun and shade. And God, my Maker, knows exactly how much of each I needand that it may even be different from the other plants growing in the garden. So I am thankful for the seasons of sun and shade in my life. I am thankful to be in the lightthough at times the sun has seemed unbearableand I am thankful to have been in the shadethough the darkness has caused me to long for the light. Truly I know that He has withheld no good thing from me, but rather He has brought me exactly what I needed in each season of my life.

Good News

Thu, 25 Oct 2007 00:00:00 GMT

Yesterday afternoon I went to Carmen's house. She invited me in the back door and I sat down at the kitchen table where we have been studying the Bible together for the last six weeks. As she wiped off the table she said, "Anna, I have good news for you." She proceeded to tell me that on Sunday her husband went with her to see a movie at the church in our ejido and after the movie he broke down in tears and accepted Christ. My heart rejoiced and I shook my head in wonder. The ground is so soft here. It is easy to be a "missionary." God always seems to be two steps ahead of me and I just keep trying to catch up.

I have been meeting with Carmen for about three hours every Wednesday since I arrived at the Gateway on August 31st to begin my commitment as assistant to the director at Adventures in Missions short term mission base in Matamoros, Mexico. Two weeks ago she told me her husband was asking her to stop reading the Bible and going to church because bad things happen to their family when she does. That week two of her three young children got sick, her car broke down, and her husband had an unusual encounter with evil. As she told me these things, I marveled that her resolve to seek God did not waver. From the start she has told me that she does not understand the Bible, and yet she believes it is worth making sacrifices to unlock its truths. I have never had to talk her into anything. I met Carmen while working at the Gateway two summers ago. Once I committed to spend at least a year here, I began secretly hoping to build a relationship with her and I thought maybe after a few months I could try to interest her in the Bible. Instead, this summer she came to me out of the blue and asked me outright to read the Bible with her. The second week we met to study she said her husband abuses her when he drinks alcohol. I was crushed. This is unfortunately common in the culture here, but I thought surely my beautiful, charming Carmen and her three beautiful children were the exception to the rule. Wasn't it obvious to her husband that this woman was a rare and precious gift to cherish? I told her that we would pray for his salvation and that her example was powerful, but I hardly believed things would change so quickly.

Though Carmen claims not to understand the Bible, God has already taught her many spiritual truths about His ways and His character. Much of the time I find myself simply giving her a scriptural foundation for what she already knows to be true. Sometimes I wish I could simply download all of my knowledge to her. But then I think, no way. It is far too great a privilege to witness her discovering passages for the first time that have lost some of their luster for me because I have known them all my life. She is a gift to me in so many ways as she allows me into her home every week and patiently corrects my struggling Spanish. Pray for Carmen and especially for her husband Noe, as he begins his walk with the Lord. Noe works in a lumber yard from 7 am to 7 pm six days a week, leaving little free time for him to begin studying the Word or spend with his family. There are other Christians that work with him in the lumber yard. Pray that they will encourage him and that God will birth in him a greater hunger for the Word of God. Pray also for the church in Ejido Buenos Aires, the community we live in outside of Matamoros. Pray that the pastor, Benito, will have wisdom in how to shepherd and disciple new believers like Noe and that God will unite the body of Christ here.