Jesus, Savior, pilot me over life's tempestuous sea.
I remember singing that on furloughs when I was young. I loved the strong imagery and the music. Just the idea of being out at sea with tons of blue-wet music bashing the hull, thunder and lightening adding to the danger, caught my imagination. I wanted to risk everything for Jesus. I wanted to cross onto the wild side and pay the ultimate price.
Elisabeth Elliot's missionary remark makes me laugh, but inside I'm nodding: "Missionaries don't go, they go forth. Missionaries don't walk, they tread the burning sands. Missionaries don't die, they lay down their lives." That's right, I think: I want to go forth and tread those sands and lay down my life. Many of my heroes did that. I want to be like them.
But missions are changing, and it makes me sad. Missions are worried about the cost of service on the servants. They want to look out for the health and welfare of the missionaries: keep them safe. Why? Isn't their Heavenly Father capable?
It's called member care. It sounds very good. It sounds reasonable. Sensible. Safe. Our society is definitely into security. You find it in airports all the way to how complicated it is to open an aspirin bottle or packaged food item. We have safety belts and safety nets for everyone. We have vaccines and pills for almost any eventuality. I cannot drive anywhere without being reminded that flu shots are available now, 24 hours. Fear seems to be the overriding factor. Fear for safety.
I didn't grow up thinking like that and it feels strange. When my mission changes policy and protocol "to provide better member care" I wonder if that isn't what the Body is supposed to be doing. As I feel the bombardment of precautionary measures in every area: food, health, traffic, education, even recreation, I feel alien.
My safety has been catapulted way out of proportion to my call. We have brothers and sisters imprisoned, tortured, dying of starvation, infected by appalling conditions . . . how can I listen to my society's mantra of security? What makes me think it is more important than serving my spiritual family who happen to live on another continent?
After looking, I don't find any promises for security from the Lord. The closest one to "secure" is "Lo, I am with you always." That one does it for me. But there is nothing about health, education, housing, food, no guarantees. In fact, I find promises that sound more like: "In this world you will have trouble, but take heart. I have overcome the world."
Unknown waves before me roll, hiding rock and treacherous shoal . . .
Now I struggle with trying to extricate myself from the security net so I can hear His voice and follow Him.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
a western sojourn
Today we begin a long journey into the setting sun. We will visit many friends, see new places, and hopefully be renewed in our minds.
We are three on this trip. Luke, our token extrovert, is at university. For him, it is the utter east, his heart's desire. Yesterday Phil and I drove him to Indiana Wesleyan and started a new chapter in his life. My heart is full of thanksgiving for him and his desire to serve the LORD with all his heart.
Now, as we face the other direction, and figuratively still other directions in ministry, my heart is still full. Of praise. Alleluia.
I am so excited to see God at work in the lives of our friends--and be assured that He works in ours.
Yesterday this verse of a hymn struck me as a good balance of sober and joyful outlook:
And did not Jesus sing a psalm that night,
when utmost evil strove against the right?
Then let us sing, for whom He won the fight--
Alleluia.
The peace of the Lord be with you.
We are three on this trip. Luke, our token extrovert, is at university. For him, it is the utter east, his heart's desire. Yesterday Phil and I drove him to Indiana Wesleyan and started a new chapter in his life. My heart is full of thanksgiving for him and his desire to serve the LORD with all his heart.
Now, as we face the other direction, and figuratively still other directions in ministry, my heart is still full. Of praise. Alleluia.
I am so excited to see God at work in the lives of our friends--and be assured that He works in ours.
Yesterday this verse of a hymn struck me as a good balance of sober and joyful outlook:
And did not Jesus sing a psalm that night,
when utmost evil strove against the right?
Then let us sing, for whom He won the fight--
Alleluia.
The peace of the Lord be with you.
Monday, July 20, 2009
we need more hymns like this
may Thy house be mine abode
and all my work be praise.
There would I find a settled rest, while others go and come,
no more a stranger or a guest, but like a child at home.
When we sang those words yesterday, they washed me with peace and comfort.
Turmoil is part of this world (to which we cling with unconsidered urgency).
God is not a God of turmoil, but He works in it very well. He has brought friends my way to remind me of Himself and His care. I know I am not especially deserving, and others of His children suffer more with less padding around them.
Teach me how to be padding for someone else, even while I am here in this place.
If I am settled where You put me, I am readier to serve the guests who come my way.
and all my work be praise.
There would I find a settled rest, while others go and come,
no more a stranger or a guest, but like a child at home.
When we sang those words yesterday, they washed me with peace and comfort.
Turmoil is part of this world (to which we cling with unconsidered urgency).
God is not a God of turmoil, but He works in it very well. He has brought friends my way to remind me of Himself and His care. I know I am not especially deserving, and others of His children suffer more with less padding around them.
Teach me how to be padding for someone else, even while I am here in this place.
If I am settled where You put me, I am readier to serve the guests who come my way.
Friday, July 17, 2009
His Voice in Chaos
Last Monday we sat down for a long-awaited meeting with our team leader, area leader and member care guy. All wonderful men. Phil and I thought we were discussing our future, hearing their concerns, they hearing ours and seeking a mutually agreeable conclusion.
It came as a shock, then, when about half way through, Mr Member Care observed that our leaders had made a decision and we thought we were discussing options. The decision had been made in February. We had not realized that because of words like "recommend" and "suggest." The reality came home very hard and for me the room began to reel.
It is the first time in my adult life where someone else has made a decision for me which profoundly affected my future in which I have not had a single word. This was hurtful. The consequences of the decision are far-reaching and painful. I have a new respect for the military: they go wherever they are told to go. I have a new understanding of servanthood: they do what they are told to do.
I've used the battle metaphor for our work in Mozambique, but I've been a volunteer. I've used the servant metaphor, but I've been serving those who "need" me and usually in my capacity and on my terms. Now I need to think of myself as a servant of our team leaders.
My life is not going to ever look the same again. We are being relocated from Quelimane. My email address will mock me: Karen in Where? Not Q, not any more.
As I struggle with hurt, disappointment, frustration and anger; going through all the "if onlys" and "what abouts" I feel the sucking vortex of self-pity. Lord, keep us all from that one.
Know what came to me today? Those Israelites in the wilderness. For healing all they had to do was look up. That's all they had to do, for heaven's sake. Look up at the snake. Look up, instant healing. Well, my healing won't be instant: I'm not a snake bite victim. But I will heal if I look up. His voice came to me in the chaos and said "look up." Don't be pulled into the pros and cons and arguments. Don't let bitterness and unforgiveness have a foothold.
Lord, keep talking, I want Your voice to be the One that comes in clearly in the Chaos.
It came as a shock, then, when about half way through, Mr Member Care observed that our leaders had made a decision and we thought we were discussing options. The decision had been made in February. We had not realized that because of words like "recommend" and "suggest." The reality came home very hard and for me the room began to reel.
It is the first time in my adult life where someone else has made a decision for me which profoundly affected my future in which I have not had a single word. This was hurtful. The consequences of the decision are far-reaching and painful. I have a new respect for the military: they go wherever they are told to go. I have a new understanding of servanthood: they do what they are told to do.
I've used the battle metaphor for our work in Mozambique, but I've been a volunteer. I've used the servant metaphor, but I've been serving those who "need" me and usually in my capacity and on my terms. Now I need to think of myself as a servant of our team leaders.
My life is not going to ever look the same again. We are being relocated from Quelimane. My email address will mock me: Karen in Where? Not Q, not any more.
As I struggle with hurt, disappointment, frustration and anger; going through all the "if onlys" and "what abouts" I feel the sucking vortex of self-pity. Lord, keep us all from that one.
Know what came to me today? Those Israelites in the wilderness. For healing all they had to do was look up. That's all they had to do, for heaven's sake. Look up at the snake. Look up, instant healing. Well, my healing won't be instant: I'm not a snake bite victim. But I will heal if I look up. His voice came to me in the chaos and said "look up." Don't be pulled into the pros and cons and arguments. Don't let bitterness and unforgiveness have a foothold.
Lord, keep talking, I want Your voice to be the One that comes in clearly in the Chaos.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
life changes (that's a verb)
This day be within and without me, lowly and meek yet all powerful.
Those words are part of our regular family devotions, nestled right in the middle of our centering prayer: to remind us that Christ is our Light and Shield.
I have wanted to think and respond to our trip East. My first remarks about Detroit were a start. Then the trip took on a life of its own and I was in the passenger seat--living it and loving it.
Now we are back. I will reminisce. But not now. I am in the middle of a difficult learning curve. I am watching my mother as she halts and races towards her finish line. She is desperately unhappy. She wants to be home. She asks why she is still here, what good she is. Her body is betraying her, but not so as to let her go.
It is difficult to watch someone suffer, especially when you can do nothing to help. As Dad lay in his hospital bed, they administered morphine when the pain was great. There is no morphine for Mom. She totters. Her speech garbles. She gets frustrated and hits her head. Her ears are her greatest enemy: she cannot hear the ones she loves. She cannot carry on a conversation over dinner. The dining room is her personal inferno. Every meal is dreaded.
She is not suffering from dementia. She is aware, but cannot do what she used to do. My poor, dear, sweet Mom. Loneliness is the worst of all. Each time I leave her apartment, her face is crestfallen. She says, "What am I going to do?"
Our medical system has taken some of the easier ways to die and left her with something slower, draining, defeating.
I have thought much about it. Here I won't pontificate. But I am learning from the immense feeling of helplessness of watching someone fade ever so slowly: here is something I can't fix, someone I can't help. Being a mom has given me a false sense of competence. There are so many ways I can "fix" what is broken when my kids are small. But the end is not the same as the beginning, no matter the similarities we find.
The end is so very unknown. We cannot use our life savvy for this. That is why I need someOne in me who is lowly and meek, yet all powerful. Someone who is also on the other side. Someone who knows it all.
Those words are part of our regular family devotions, nestled right in the middle of our centering prayer: to remind us that Christ is our Light and Shield.
I have wanted to think and respond to our trip East. My first remarks about Detroit were a start. Then the trip took on a life of its own and I was in the passenger seat--living it and loving it.
Now we are back. I will reminisce. But not now. I am in the middle of a difficult learning curve. I am watching my mother as she halts and races towards her finish line. She is desperately unhappy. She wants to be home. She asks why she is still here, what good she is. Her body is betraying her, but not so as to let her go.
It is difficult to watch someone suffer, especially when you can do nothing to help. As Dad lay in his hospital bed, they administered morphine when the pain was great. There is no morphine for Mom. She totters. Her speech garbles. She gets frustrated and hits her head. Her ears are her greatest enemy: she cannot hear the ones she loves. She cannot carry on a conversation over dinner. The dining room is her personal inferno. Every meal is dreaded.
She is not suffering from dementia. She is aware, but cannot do what she used to do. My poor, dear, sweet Mom. Loneliness is the worst of all. Each time I leave her apartment, her face is crestfallen. She says, "What am I going to do?"
Our medical system has taken some of the easier ways to die and left her with something slower, draining, defeating.
I have thought much about it. Here I won't pontificate. But I am learning from the immense feeling of helplessness of watching someone fade ever so slowly: here is something I can't fix, someone I can't help. Being a mom has given me a false sense of competence. There are so many ways I can "fix" what is broken when my kids are small. But the end is not the same as the beginning, no matter the similarities we find.
The end is so very unknown. We cannot use our life savvy for this. That is why I need someOne in me who is lowly and meek, yet all powerful. Someone who is also on the other side. Someone who knows it all.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
a night in Detroit
We have been lifted up by the amazing affirmation that only being in God's family brings. Our visit to Sam and Luz Jackson in Detroit was nothing short of incredible. We met three of their precious daughters: Maris, Joana, and Victoria. (Their first daughter lives not far from us in IL, believe it.)
We were literally embraced the moment we reunited and felt the love of Jesus all evening long. We were fed--we were heard. We listened to exciting stories of their church plant in Detroit. What fun it was to share our "intercultural" stories. Sam's church is tri-cultural, with everyone else welcome. Hope we can see the whole church next visit.
Am thinking about what it means to serve God. Seems there are two types of service: a special assignment or ongoing obedience. These thoughts are fundamental to what it means to discern His will.
We were literally embraced the moment we reunited and felt the love of Jesus all evening long. We were fed--we were heard. We listened to exciting stories of their church plant in Detroit. What fun it was to share our "intercultural" stories. Sam's church is tri-cultural, with everyone else welcome. Hope we can see the whole church next visit.
Am thinking about what it means to serve God. Seems there are two types of service: a special assignment or ongoing obedience. These thoughts are fundamental to what it means to discern His will.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
traveling again
Took a blog-break when we arrived in the States. A month in Texas, now a month in Illinois, with visits to various states in between. Now it is May and tomorrow we are heading for a trip to the East coast: New York, Vermont, Massachusetts, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Ohio, and Indiana.
It has been a good return home. "Home" is one of my favorite words. And yes, though I have spent precious little of my life in the States, it is home--my passport will attest. Listening to many friends who live here all the time, I learn some of the shortfalls of this magnificent country. I've noticed a couple myself.
But right now the things that stand out are the contrasts from rural Africa. Here are some of the things I like about America:
~ nice smooth roads with lots of lanes
~ street name signs
~ plenty of gas stations with coffee and travel mugs
~ mile after mile of neat, tidy, litterless stretches
~ helpful, friendly policemen
~ polite drivers on the American roads
~ eating m&m's when the mood strikes (as long as it doesn't strike too often)
~ very fast internet
~ church
~ church choirs, church organs, church pianos, church cellos, OK, church music
~ coffee and goodies while you're talking to friends at church
~ having coffee or tea with a friend in an atmospheric little place
~ Borders books and Barnes and Nobles and Half Price books
~ seeing my Mom nearly every day
~ doctors who listen and nurses who are considerate (we had our medicals)
~ people who walk their dogs in the morning and evening
~ communion at church
~ plays: we have seen "Juliet" and "Confessions of St Augustine" (both gratis)
~ the Metra into Chicago
~ Dallas Arboretum and Morton Arboretum
~ beautifully landscaped yards, not surrounded by cement walls
Perhaps I should save the next 90 for another time, but you get the idea: it is so good to be back.
We look forward to seeing as many friends as possible on the continent.
I'll be adding insights and adventures from time to time.
We have so much to be thankful for, not the least of which is our incomparable country.
Amen? Amen.
It has been a good return home. "Home" is one of my favorite words. And yes, though I have spent precious little of my life in the States, it is home--my passport will attest. Listening to many friends who live here all the time, I learn some of the shortfalls of this magnificent country. I've noticed a couple myself.
But right now the things that stand out are the contrasts from rural Africa. Here are some of the things I like about America:
~ nice smooth roads with lots of lanes
~ street name signs
~ plenty of gas stations with coffee and travel mugs
~ mile after mile of neat, tidy, litterless stretches
~ helpful, friendly policemen
~ polite drivers on the American roads
~ eating m&m's when the mood strikes (as long as it doesn't strike too often)
~ very fast internet
~ church
~ church choirs, church organs, church pianos, church cellos, OK, church music
~ coffee and goodies while you're talking to friends at church
~ having coffee or tea with a friend in an atmospheric little place
~ Borders books and Barnes and Nobles and Half Price books
~ seeing my Mom nearly every day
~ doctors who listen and nurses who are considerate (we had our medicals)
~ people who walk their dogs in the morning and evening
~ communion at church
~ plays: we have seen "Juliet" and "Confessions of St Augustine" (both gratis)
~ the Metra into Chicago
~ Dallas Arboretum and Morton Arboretum
~ beautifully landscaped yards, not surrounded by cement walls
Perhaps I should save the next 90 for another time, but you get the idea: it is so good to be back.
We look forward to seeing as many friends as possible on the continent.
I'll be adding insights and adventures from time to time.
We have so much to be thankful for, not the least of which is our incomparable country.
Amen? Amen.
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