I ask . . . God answers!

The past few weeks have been very discouraging for me. I've seen my offerings and promises of support dry up, as gas and grocery prices continue to raise. It's a natural response: our wallets get a little tighter. People start trying to make their money stretch as far as possible in this descending economy. I know that feeling myself, so I can certainly understand the pastors who keep telling me that they want to support me, but they are limited by declining offerings and empty bank accounts.

It's taken it's toll, though, emotionally. I've felt like a failure because I'm not able to raise this money like "super missionaries" do and get back to the field on time. I've been listless and totally unmotivated to keep making phone calls and appointments. At the worst point, I started to wonder if I could go back on the field at all.

Last weekend, while staying with my best friend Beth, I broke down and talked to her about a lot of frustration that I've been feeling lately. Like most times of discouragement, once you believe one lie ("I'll never get this budget raised"), you will easily believe the thousand that come after it. "It's all your fault. You obviously don't have what it takes. Life would be easier in the US anyway. Maybe its time to give up. I can't keep on like this." I sat in her church parking lot and cried minutes before I had to get up in front of her church and "turn on" my smile and my enthusiasm for missions. I sat at her kitchen table and cried for an hour after the service. I'm ashamed to admit that much of it was self-pitying, "If God is faithful, why isn't He faithful to me?" It was the whine of an exhausted, frustrated, and pouty missionary.

Her challenge to me was this: Are you called to go back on the field? She agreed with me that maybe my time was done. I served my years, did my missions service. Maybe God was releasing me. Did I feel that God was still calling me NOW? If not, then decisions could be made about quitting. If God's call was still present, then I needed to trust Him with all of it.

All three hours of the drive from Fairview to Hagerstown last Sunday afternoon, I thought about that. I couldn't escape the still, small voice of God in my heart, reminding me of my ever-present calling, no matter how much I wanted to give up. I know without doubt that God isn't done with me on the missionfield. And like Beth said, my only choice then is to trust Him, whatever my needs are (and however insurmountable they seem!)

Here's the best part . . . this week someone sent me a check for $5,000. I literally stood at the mailbox and stared at the zeros. I've never, NEVER received a check from a donor for that amount of money. To put a different perspective on it, that's essentially the same as someone sending me $100 a month for the next four years on the field. I was stunned. As I stood at the mailbox, staring at that check, God had the last word in the argument I'd been waging internally for weeks--He will provide. It's the ultimate, "I'll buy, you fly" deal.

In the next two days, I picked up a couple of new churches that sent in their pledge forms and I heard about a few more. I'll probably get offerings tomorrow at the two churches I'll be speaking in. I believe that people are sacrificing to give to missions in this economy and I value EVERY gift I receive. I don't believe that a $5,000 check is better than anyone's five dollar bill put into an offering plate, but I will say that God used that check to get my attention!

The Furlough Fifteen (and a Big Announcement)

One of the big things that missionaries complain about is the weight they gain on furlough. Gain and complain; that seems to be our cycle. As soon as we hit the US, after three or four years overseas (some in remote areas), we become like children with eyes bigger than our stomachs: every Dunkin Donuts or Brewster's Ice Cream stand seems to be calling out our names. You keep telling yourself, "I haven't had (insert junkfood name here) in years!" Unfortunately, if you tell yourself this often enough, you won't be able to fit in your clothes again for years, either!

The weight gain is compounded with other factors, too; hours spent sitting in a car traveling to the next speaking engagement, hours spent sitting in front of your computer or phone add up to less movement. Being treated to meals by pastors or even hitting the drive-thru on your way out of town after services usually means a heavy calorie meal, instead of the lighter fare you would normally be eating in your country of service.

I worked really hard during my last term in France to lose weight and have gained it all back since I've been home this year in America. I've gotten to the point that I can't stand it anymore!
Some of you may know that feeling!

So, in the effort to stop the cycle of gaining and complaining, my sister and I have created a weight-loss support group, The Right Fit.* Basically, we like the idea of group motivation and accountability in Weight Watchers, but hate paying the fee every week. We thought, "Why not have a group program for free that does the same thing?"

We are starting The Right Fit on Thursday nights at the Pasadena Assembly of God Family Life Center building on Thursday, July 10, 2008! We'll be meeting at 6:30 pm for about thirty minutes of group discussion on different weight-loss topics each week, followed by a few diet and exercise tips for motivation. For those who like a "weigh-in" program, a scale will be available to track their progress. We want to "bear each other's burdens" but also help those burdens lighten up week by week!

If you are interested in this type of group, consider yourself invited and bring all your friends!


*My sister, whose sense of the humor is certainly unique, suggested "Support Ho's" as the group name, but it was rejected, because we thought no one would want to join that group!

100 Thing Challenge

Recently I was reading my weekly Time magazine and I found an article that intrigued me. Apparently a guy with a personal blog created a personal goal of simplifying his life, called the 100 Thing Challenge. (Time magazine snarked that in addition to paring down his possessions, he apparently also lost the "s" in 100 things). David Michael Bruno created this challenge to fight the rampant consumerism in our culture. He is donating, selling, and in some cases, merely packing away all of his belongings in an effort to keep only 100 things.

He's created rules and explains them on his blog, which you can read here. I applaud his efforts and admire his stand against the materialism that seems to obsess our society. Part of the reason that I was so drawn to this article is that a missionary's life is almost always a similar example of triage: what you want to keep forever, what you need just for the next term, what you can't take with you because of luggage/shipping restrictions, what you can sell to other missionaries, what you can donate to the ministry or the nationals, etc. There are belongings that were formerly mine scattered all over the world, and with only one or two exceptions, I don't regret losing or leaving them.

Paul tells us in Phillippians 4:12 "I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want."

I don't think Paul even had 100 things, but he knew what mattered.

Taking Notes

Today I was looking through some old folders in my desk, searching for a spiral notebook that had blank pages. I came across a notebook from School of Missions when I was a brand-new missionary. I must have taken about 45 pages of notes from all the sessions I attended. It was all new information and I was like a sponge, soaking it all in. Or at least trying to!

What I realized in flipping through the pages was how much of this stuff I had forgotten. There are all sorts of ideas and encouragement in these pages that made an impression the first time (enough that I wrote it down anyway) and then got pushed out of my mind by new information in the time following.

It was great to find that goldmine of information this morning, at a time where I needed a boost of motivation. I'd like to keep referring to it over the next few days to get some more ideas.

This is why we take notes!

West Virgina Weekend

I've been home nearly a year on this furlough so far, and one of my "must-do" things on my mental list has been to visit my former college roommate and best friend, Beth Steele. On my last furlough, that wasn't too difficult. I think I managed to overnight at her house four times on various trips to churches nearby her home in West Virginia.

This furlough, however, I've only managed one trip that far west, and she was away in Florida that weekend. So I finally had a chance to make up for all that lost time this weekend. I went out late on Friday night, which gave me the whole day on Saturday to spend with her family. She has four handsome boys who get smarter and cuter every time I visit. I got a chance to play with their new basset hound puppy, look at their pool, admire GameCube skills, lose at lawn croquet, catch some local football games, see a movie, and more! I enjoyed the time with the whole gang.

Sunday morning I spoke to their combined adult Sunday School classes. I've been speaking at the church for years now, so I always have the feeling that I'm in the presence of many old friends. I've gotten to know so many wonderful people from that church, and I even have some connections with Royal Ranger guys who know my dad. I got a chance to thank them personally for their prayers for Dad's health crises this past year.

I hated to leave on Sunday afternoon, but I had to get to my next service, all the way back in Hagerstownl MD. I always feel that my West Virginia weekends just aren't long enough, but I'm glad that I had the chance (finally) to get there!

Prayer Need

Please pray for my good friends, Carol and Roger. Their oldest daughter Tracy died last night, apparently in her sleep; she was currently living at home with them. Tracy and I had a lot in common, and I have many memories of craft nights at the church working on our scrapbooks and other craft projects. Tracy often came to the women's ministries events and I always enjoyed talking to her.

I can't imagine what loss Carol and Roger feel. They have both been hearty prayer warriors for me, and during this terrible time, I will be the same for them.

A Foot Soldier in the Kingdom

Last night I was invited to the District Office for a dinner party involving missionaries and the presbyters. We had an enjoyable meal and it was a nice social occasion to answer questions and feel a bit more connected to one another.

One of the pastors encouraged the others to view the missionary as an infantry soldier--the boots on the ground--on foreign soil. He made the statement that supporting specific projects financially was not a bad idea, but "tools" would never replace the infantry in any war. Someone has to be on at the forefront, taking ground. I thought to myself that if missionaries are the infantry, then projects are like tanks. A specific project, like building the frame of a church or Bible school or supplying literature for an evangelism blitz, is useful and necessary. But without a continual missionary presence to use that tool, it would be worthless on its own. Projects are merely a weapon in that warfare of advancing the Kingdom.

I unraveled that thread a bit further, and thought that short-term missions trips, whether teenagers, building crews, or even prayer teams, is sort of like an airstrike. It prepares the way for the work that the infantry is doing, or even provides "cover" as the work is in its most intense conflict. It can be a powerful strategy, but again, without the infantry, it would just cause widespread damage without any real victory. The infantry does the combat that conquers the enemy, then plants the flag of victory.

I'm thankful for the ideas that folks came up with long ago that have made missions so effective and successful, and I look forward to being able to march forward as soon as I'm able to get back overseas.

Easy to Remember

This weekend at the Stars retreat, the speaker--a wonderful children's pastor--asked the 3rd-5th grade girls if they had a memory aid to remember the order of Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians, and Colossians.

I think he was going to tell them one, and in my mind, I thought of the one I learned years ago: General Electric Power Company. However, before he could even finish his question, a girl in the front row yelled, "Gentiles Eat Pork Chops!" and brought down the house.

Weekend

My service tomorrow is in Oakland, MD. Since I had to do a 10 minute “window” on missions at the Stars retreat at the district campground, I figured I might as well stay at the camp, rather than coming back home. Gas is too expensive to waste on backtracking; I’ll just head out tomorrow morning early to go the rest of the way to Oakland.

All in all, a good plan, but the one thing I failed to take into consideration is the energy and noise of little girls! My assigned room is in the Long Motel, where I have the very last room on the corner. The Long Motel has central air conditioning and from my room, I can hear what sounds like a thousand girls giggling through the vents. I have no idea what rooms these girls are in; perhaps the giggling sound compounds from one room to the next.

When I went to bed last night, I heard giggling from 10:30 until 11:30 pm, when I rummaged through my bag in the dark room until I found my Ipod earphones and plugged them into my laptop. I pulled up my Itunes and figured I could get to sleep with music, quiet enough to lull me to sleep, yet loud enough to block out the silly girls. I was so tired, my eyes couldn’t even stay open, but I was continually jerked awake by the sound of flipflops slapping down the walkway outside the doors, or of things dropping and banging, followed by heightened giggles. I put on a sleep mask that my sister bought me once: fake fur. It blocks out all light and I use it when I really want to be dead to the world.

Suddenly, a very loud banging on my door startled me. I wasn’t asleep but I was too comfortable to want to get up and talk to people. I was wearing an old tee-shirt that I often sleep in, so I wasn’t dressed for company. I yelled, “Who is it?” and heard, “Open this door now!” as my response. I yelled back, “I think you’ve got the wrong room.” I hoped they did, but the banging only continued, so I got up and cracked the door. I squinted out into moonlight, with my fake fur sleep mask pushed up over my bangs, trying to shield my nightshirt behind the door. I'm sure I was quite the sight!

Two matronly women tried to barrel their way into the room, but I was standing firm behind the door, so it didn’t budge very far. The lady in the front was clearly the leader, and she said, “I have heard enough noise out of this room. You need to get to bed NOW!”

I said, “I think you have the wrong room.” She stopped her fussing and seemed to register finally my dark room, the bed clearly empty of little girls, and my disgruntled sleepy state.

“Are you alone in here?” she asked, and I answered, “Yes, I’m the missionary who spoke to the girls tonight in the service.” Her whole face changed and she became instantly more apologetic. “I have the room on the other side of the motel from yours and we can hear incredible noise. We thought it was coming from this room.”

Once I told her that I too could hear all the noise through the air vents, she decided it was coming from the room next to mine and spun on her heel to go give them her drill-sergeant routine. I accepted her apology and wished her every success on her mission to stop the noise; after all, I wanted to sleep too.

Whatever she did must have worked, because I never heard another noise until 7:00 am, when someone—and I suspect that same lady—knocked insistently on the door next door to wake the girls for morning exercises. Go to it, lady! Wear 'em out all day, so they're ready to sleep tonight!

Film of a Generation

Recently I was ordering something from Amazon.com and I was very close to getting the free shipping. I only needed to spend a few dollars more in order to save the high shipping fee. I thought maybe I would find a cheap DVD for $5 in the bargain section. Among the lame movies that were marked down to $5, there was The Princess Bride.

I clicked on it instantly, buying it without hesitation. This year is the 20th anniversary of the film and my DVD is the "special anniversary edition." Even though I've had it for two weeks now, I haven't had a chance to sit down and watch it. I have that movie memorized, but it's been a long time since I've seen it.

I was thinking about The Princess Bride and I was reminded of a conversation that my brother and I once had. One of his grad school professors was talking about culture and said that each generation has a film (or maybe 2) that "defines" them. Every child of that generation can quote the entire film; it personfies their attitudes and their beliefs.

In our conversation, I said that The Princess Bride has to be one of films that "defines" my generation. I saw it in Annapolis at the movie theater when I was a teenager, and then saw it countless times at sleepovers, youth group parties, in the co-ed lounge at college, and more. The film has it all: intrigue, true love, sword-fighting action, humor. Admit it: you know you can quote lines from that movie, too! "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!" "Anybody want a peanut?"

What is your favorite line from The Princess Bride? What film do you think defines your generaton? Feel free to discuss in the comments section.

Nice weather

I'm so thankful for the mild spring we've had so far this year. It has hardly been hot and what warm days we've had have not been humid at all. It's a blessing with rising prices in every aspect of life to be able to put off air conditioning a few more days. I can remember first weeks of June that were far hotter than this one!

Please continue to pray for my dad. We still don't seem to have many answers about his medical condition. He's getting dialysis but we're not able to see much improvement yet. That's pretty frustrating, but we're very grateful as a family to have your encouraging phone calls and expressions of concern.