"As he loves himself..."

Remember when I said that I would use this blog to write about things I was still learning? Well here I go.

I spent part of today angry. Actually I think I've spent most of the past few days somewhere between mildly irritated and inwardly fuming. Twice in the past week, I've had to seek Kyle's forgiveness for exploding at him in an angry outburst. Ellee probably also wonders why she was told so loudly the other day to stop splashing water in the bathtub (isn't that what bath time is for to a one-year-old???). They weren't the problem; I was.

God has been trying to teach me a lesson: I'm spoiled. I'm selfish. And I need to grow as a husband and as a father.

Our family is happy to be expecting our third child sometime in October. As with both of our other children, however, it seems that the first months of pregnancy are going to be very difficult for Abby. She is not able to function the way she usually does. She usually wakes up nauseous, tries to get some strength through food, then works to keep it down the rest of the day. She is weak and tired and needs a lot of rest. I trust the baby is getting all the strength and energy it needs, because it sure isn't leaving much for Mama! I hate to think that Abby may be suffering so that God could teach me a lesson. Well maybe if I learned it today, she can start feeling better now.

Everyone knows that you often don't appreciate what you have until it's taken away. Let me tell you what my life is usually like. The kids normally wake up around seven. If they awaken earlier, they're not allowed to get up or begin playing until seven. Abby usually gets up with them and feeds them breakfast. I sleep for a while longer, especially if I was up late doing school the night before. Most days I smell bacon or pancakes or something and know it's my call to get up now. As the day goes on, I do my schoolwork or study for TEE or practice soccer or really just do nothing. The kids are given snacks as they play, dirty nappies (sorry, diapers) are changed, the house is cleaned and tidied. Around noon, lunch appears. Then Ellee is put down to nap and I help Kyle get settled for his. Then Abby often naps and I get two or three hours of quiet time for reading or study or rest or a movie. As everyone wakes up, supper starts cooking and I play with the kids. After supper, I give both kids a bath while Abby showers, then she puts Ellee to sleep and I put Kyle to sleep. Obviously there's a lot more to it, but that's kind of our normal day routine.

Not anymore. Kids wake up. Abby's in the bathroom. I go get them. Usually manage to fall back asleep, still. Wake up without a hot breakfast most days. Kids strew toys everywhere. I straighten up or trip over them all day. Dirty diaper, here you go, Daddy. Meals are over, dishes pile up. Lunch time, I ask how to cook stuff. House is dirty, where's that broom? How did you sleep, Abby? Aaaagggghhhh! How do you feel, Abby? Eeeeehhhhh! Such a beautiful day today! Uuuuugggghhhh! Kids want snacks, ask Daddy. Supper comes, what do I do this time? Bath time, still daddy. Good thing I don't have school right now!

So I've been mad. Here's some more about me. I'm not very good at sympathy. I don't want to hear problems I can't fix. Sorry isn't good enough for me. "I feel terrible." "Take some medicine. Try some food. Need more sleep? Want a hot bath?" If I just say "Aw, sorry you feel bad," I feel useless. So I don't want to hear it. I'm also the eternal optimist, like Mr. Positive. Hey, life's ok; things will get better. It could be worse. We can fix it. God will get us through this. It can't be that bad, just don't be so down about it. However, this all-day morning sickness hangs a cloud over the house that I can't shine through. I can't fix it. I can't change it. I can't make the whole trimester look like it will be okay or pass quickly. So I don't want to hear about it. Maybe a quick "Feel any better today?" "Ugh..." and I'll go on with the day.

So now most of you are probably glad that you don't have to live with such an insensitive, lazy bum. And you know now how to pray for Abby!

But God's not through with me. Several things have coincidentally come together recently to send me a message loud and clear. In TEE we are currently studying "Christian Family Living" and the pastors also recently asked us to give a study on biblical family roles. Ephesians 5 was a necessary exposition, so we spent a lot of time there - especially on the role of the husband. To be honest, I didn't feel like I was teaching that class. It felt more like a group therapy session where I tell everyone how much I'm not living up to the standard. I have this rule for myself that I've always followed: I will never preach on a subject where my life is not exemplary without making it known that I, too, need to hear and apply this message.

The phrase that caught my attention was: "Let each one of you love his wife as himself" (Eph.5:33). It's such an interesting verse. Is Paul saying a husband should love himself? Not at all! He is saying you already do! "In the same way husbands should love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it," (Eph.5:28-29). The other convicting phrase, of course, was "and gave himself for her" (Eph.5:25).

I have seen up close two men who give themselves for their wives - both are my fathers. My birth father has always put his wife before his own interests and his family before his ministry. Even now as he cares for his wife's mother, putting his own desire to travel in revival ministry on hold indefinitely, he shows me what it is to "give himself for her." My other father, made mine through marriage, is also the quintessential family man. He works a good job faithfully and comes home to invest in his family. He does the dishes, I think, after every meal. He serves in the local church. He reads to his kids every night. He has a few hobbies, but they only get done if all family priorities have been upheld. I've always admired these two men and said I want to be like them, but it often seems an unattainable goal. Where do I start?

At the same time that all these thoughts were running though my head, I saw one of those cheesy Facebook posts with a quotation on an artsy background. It said something like, "The voice you speak to your children will be the voice in their heads for the rest of their lives." I thought back on some of the voices I'd used with my kids this week. "Why won't you listen to me!?! I told you that would happen! Sit down and stop goofing off right now!" Do I want him to hear that voice throughout his life as he looks to the future or makes mistakes?

Today, I trust, God got through to me. I write this right now - late at night, when I should be sleeping - to be a reminder in the months and years ahead. It is a means of accountability for what God has said to me today. I'm sure I will not follow these new instructions perfectly from here on, but at least I can return and be reminded.

Today, God said to me, "Love your wife and give yourself for her. Love her as much as you obviously love yourself." So I tried to. I just did what she usually does to care for me. I did what I would have wanted someone else to do. It wasn't all that hard, either. It just involved thinking differently. I pray the lesson will stick, and I write it here to haunt me.

"Whoever causes one of these little ones to sin..."

When I first started this blog, I said that I would use it to write about things I've learned and also things to which I don't yet have an answer. This post is one of the latter.

I think every parent knows that we can often learn some of the most surprising insights from our children.  Today as I sat in the church of one of our TEE pastors, I noticed something in the little children playing around the church. This observation combined with my current experience with our own children to get me thinking about a potentially serious issue.

At church yesterday, about five or six little children were sitting near the front of the room while the pastor was preaching.  They would sit a while, get up, go outside, eat a snack, and keep themselves occupied while the service was going on.  I noticed one little boy who had a marble - just one.  He would roll it around, bounce it across the floor, toss it outside, laugh, and go chase it.  Another boy had some kind of a small tin can about the size of a sardine can with maybe a 12-inch-long metal rod stuck through the middle of it.  It was nothing.  He sat there looking at it, turning it this way and that, spinning the can on the wire, running it across the floor, and smiling.  Before too long "metal boy" and "marble boy” were sitting beside each other.  Metal boy seemed about three years old and marble boy was probably two.  While I watched them, marble boy showed his marble to the older boy and then handed his prized ball over to him.  The older boy took the marble and smiled and handed the little boy his tin can toy.

Fast forward to that afternoon (or about any afternoon in this month).  Kyle and Ellee are playing together.  Kyle is holding his two favorite motorcycles which he lost back in the States, but were recovered and mailed to him by our family last week.  Ellee is over by the TV pulling out every toy in the bottom drawer.  Finally she settles on one of Kyle’s planes and crawls over to Mommy and me, smiling and giggling about her special toy.  Kyle hears the happy sounds and comes over to see what’s going on.  “Ellee, no, that’s my plane,” he says, trying to take it away.  “No, Kyle, let her play with it.  You haven’t been interested in those planes all day.”  After some grabbing and maybe some crying, he goes back to his motorcycles.  Snack time comes and suddenly the motorcycles are sitting alone while Kyle eats his apple.  Seeing her opportunity, Ellee speed-crawls to grab a motorcycle and the fight ensues again.

Those were my observations.  Neither one is complete, I’m sure.  I know Kyle and Ellee are sometimes very good at sharing toys and playing together nicely.  And I’m sure the two boys also have times when they don’t get along.  But my observations got me thinking about possessions.  How often do we observe that those with less are more inclined to share and those with more and more inclined to hoard?  It’s one of the things I hear most often about cross-cultural mission trips: “These people have nothing, but they insisted on feeding us and caring for our needs.”  I hear missionaries raising support for the field (and have been one) wondering why the family with the giant house can’t spare $20 per month or why the church with the million-dollar budget can’t give $100 per month to see the gospel spread.  Why is this?

The West is rich; the Majority World is poor.  The West is typically selfish; the Majority World typically shares.  Are these factors totally unrelated?  Is it only our individualist mindset vs. their collectivist mindset?  Or is it that the more we get, the less we give?

Our kids have literally a tent full of toys.  Most of them were the favorite at one point or another.  We have trouble getting rid of the toys because we remember how much he once loved them (oh my goodness, this tore me apart when we were moving to Africa and had to give away most of Kyle’s baby toys).  But eventually, the new one replaces the old one.  As a parent, I still walk through the toy store (occasionally) and think, “Oh, my kid would like that so much!”  Like our heavenly Father, I do love to “give good gifts” to my children.  I love to see the surprise and excitement when Kyle’s favorite movie character jumps off of the screen and becomes a plastic buddy in his hand to accompany him on his daily adventures.  But I wonder, am I hurting him in my good intentions?  Are my “good gifts” really “good”?

What is the problem?  Why do the kids with one toy share so happily and the kids with many fight over one?  Is it just our children’s inherent sinfulness?  Is it the selfish heart, the lust of the eyes, and the greed of human dissatisfaction?  Or is it the tyranny of the new?  Are their desires becoming ruled by the fact that they often get something new and so the new becomes “mine”?

This makes me wonder even more: Are our possessions a blessing from God or a curse from Satan?  What does Jesus call our “needs”?  He said, “...do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on . . . your heavenly Father knows that you need them all” (Mt 6:25, 32).  He doesn’t even mention a house.  He said, “the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head” (Mt 8:20).  These are the things Jesus says we need.  He gives us much beyond that, but we must be careful to realize that they are not needs.  He never promised abundant possessions.  So when we have abundant possessions, are they really from God?  Or does God give all we need (and more) and then Satan gives us abundance to corrupt our desires and turn our hearts away from God because “you cannot serve God and money” (Mt 6:24).

I've heard it said before, and thus far have seen it consistent throughout Scripture, that Satan is not an innovator as much as he is a corruptor.  That is, he does not invent new evils or create new types of sin.  Rather, he takes those things which God has given in good measure and corrupts them towards evil purposes.  He takes the high value God has placed on man and makes man to overvalue himself.  He takes God's good intentions for sexuality and tempts man to take it outside of the boundaries God has set.  Could he also turn God's good purposes for work into overwork?  Could he not try to corrupt God's faithful provision of possessions and turn it into selfishness and idolatry and "the love of money," which is the root of all kinds of evil?

Considering these things makes me think of more questions.  What does this say about missionaries who spend all their time giving away possessions to those who have less?  Are they helping at all?  I know missionaries who do this 24/7.  It’s all they do.  Certainly it is motivated by compassion.  We love to see the African and Mexican children receiving toys, footballs, and candy.  We feel happy to know that we have given to help them.  Furthermore, we want to do these compassionate ministries as a way to show Christ’s love to the world, praying that they will see Him, believe in Him, and receive Him.  These are right motives.  But are they right actions?

What about programs like Operation Christmas Child?  We in the West celebrate Christmas by giving gifts.  We assume everyone else should, too.  Our cultural lenses let us see this in the three wise men who gave gifts to Jesus at the first “Christmas.”  Somehow, though it’s not the same.  The magi didn’t give the gifts to each other!

This is not even about creating dependence, “When Helping Hurts,” "When Charity Destroys Dignity,” or transformational development principles.  Are we helping at all?  Or are we exporting our materialism to the children of the world?  Are we “causing one of these little ones to sin”?

These are my thoughts.  I don’t have the answers.

10 Things Missionaries Don't Tell You Enough

I try not to write reactionary posts.  This one certainly is.  But I trust that I can write this without sounding reactionary or disagreeable.

I saw a post going around Facebook.  It was actually a link that several missionaries I know shared on their pages.  When I saw the title, I immediately wanted to read it, expecting to share it myself.  However, once I was finally able to access it tonight, I really didn't like it at all!  It sounded like it was written by a tired, burnt-out missionary who needs more than a little time on home assignment.  I certainly identified with some of the things written on the post, but felt that the perspective was incredibly pessimistic under it's cover of "being real."  So I thought instead to write my own post, aligned with the same 10 ideas, giving what I believe to be a better perspective on them (and perhaps to rescue us missionaries from being clumped into a group who all think like this man does).  The original post is called "10 Things Missionaries Won't Tell You."  You may read the article here for cross-reference: http://www.adammosley.com/2014/07/05/10-things-missionaries-wont-tell/
I've decided to call my post "10 Things Missionaries Don't Tell You Enough."


10 Things Missionaries Don't Tell You Enough:

1. We love to hear from you!
- There are not many things more encouraging that getting a short email from home saying, "Hi, how are you? We were thinking about you today.  How is the family?  We love you."  It tells us that you had a moment, we were on your minds and in your prayers, and it meant enough to you to take a moment and tell us.  In an age of instant communication, it doesn't take us any more than 5-15 minutes to reply to an email or Facebook message and we are more than happy to do that and stay connected with you back home.  Perhaps don't ask us to write you back a full-blown theology of mission, but we are always blessed to hear from you - especially in response to a newsletter we've just sent (then we know you've read it!).

2. We look through every comment and every "like" on our Facebook posts.
- It is encouraging to see who is following our lives, even in the small, everyday matters.  When I get on Facebook during my breakfast in the morning, I scroll through my notifications.  I admit also that on nearly every post or picture I've shared, I read through all of the comments and usually look through the names of everybody who "liked" those posts.  Am I a Facebook addict?  I don't think so.  It's just nice to know that people care about us, they follow us, they "like" us!

3. We are offering you the chance to invest in God's kingdom work.
- Yes, we too often see ourselves as Christian beggars, asking you to give us money so we can do something important for God. It is easy to feel guilty for that sometimes. But the fact is that we are offering you the chance to invest your money in something eternal - to "lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and rust do not corrupt and thieves do not break through and steal."  We are giving you the opportunity to expand your sphere of eternal influence beyond where you can go yourself.  Is that selfish?  Is that begging?  If it is begging, it is begging on God's behalf.  It is begging you to do something eternally beneficial for yourself.  You give your money to God.  We give our time and service to God.  It is a ministry partnership - both of us together for Him!

4. You don't want to or need to hear of our worst days.
- And we don't need to hear of yours either.  There is no point in discouraging each other with a mutual pity party.  Does anybody like to see those Facebook posts of "Oh what a miserable day I'm having.  Like this if you are having one, too."  We have difficult days over here.  But I'll bet you have some difficult days, too.  We haven't earned a special degree of bad days by going overseas; we probably just have different reasons for our days being bad.  Apart from openness, vulnerability, and mutual support with those closest to us, we don't need to lay our problems on the world.

5. We take breaks and vacations - like the one you just finished.
- I admit to the difficulties of this area.  Because our work is one that is supported very directly by others, we may struggle with feelings of guilt over "wasting" the money that people have sent to support us.  We may think it unwise to post pictures on Facebook of our beachfront view hotel or our fancy dinner out.  But apart from these concerns, we need breaks just like everyone else.  And we take them!  There is a fine line between considering the effect our actions may have on others and the fear of man, which "brings a snare."  We see the pictures that all of our friends back home post of their vacations.  We see the exotic locations, the fancy meals, the swimming pools, the cruises, and the mountain hikes.  We see the pictures coming up for a week or more.  But because those were financed by business income instead of missionary support, it's somehow justified.  We, on the other hand, may post about the beautiful guest house we're booking in Durban next week.  But we won't tell you it cost less than $60 per night, instead of hundreds.  We won't tell you we were there for three days instead of a week.  We won't tell you that we drove there for about $100 in fuel and not thousands of dollars in plane tickets.  If we all held each other to the same standards, we would have no problem in showing you our vacation.

6. Hosting teams can be a benefit to our field ministries.
- I hope I'm not speaking beyond my ability here.  We have not yet hosted "a team" in our overseas ministry.  I'm sure that much stress can be involved in the logistics of planning to host a short-term missions team.  But I would think that much of that difficulty could be avoided if we would have a proper view of STM's in the first place.  Should not a STM team be planned based on its ability to further a field ministry and not only on the desire of the team to see the field ministry in person?  Do not the missionaries have the right (I would say responsibility) to turn down a team who wanted to come visit if their visit would not aid the ministry and could even hinder the ministry for a time?  Perhaps the need for finances and the promotion of one's ministry back home too often pushes a missionary to host a team they can't really accommodate.  Better instead to refuse the team or limit its size to a manageable number who may actually be able to further the ministry.  The movement critically called "voluntourism" may be getting out of control and can only be curtailed by somebody making the hard decisions.

7. Chances to go home are a tremendous blessing.
- Assuming the arguments already made in point 5 (we take breaks) and looking forward to point 10 (we miss our families), going home is not about getting rest.  When we are on the field, we speak often of home.  We recount memories of home.  We daydream about what favorite restaurants we will eat at again when we get home.  We miss our friends and we miss our families more.  So when we have the opportunity to go home, we're not there to sleep!  We're not there to hole up in our houses and say, "Ahhh! This was nice when I lived here."  We want to see our people, attend our churches, tell people about the amazing things God is doing on the other side of the world.  I felt bad many mornings at home when I slept late or when we were alone with nobody around.  "Why are we doing this here?  We can be alone while we're over there!"  Certainly there is a balance and we don't want to be run into the ground catching up, traveling, and speaking.  But every opportunity to visit home is a blessing and a refreshment, in spite of any difficulties.

8. We must work to make God our first priority.
- As mentioned above (point four), we're no different from you in this.  Yes, there is certainly still a stereotype that missionaries are the most God-centered people in the world and must have no problem spending hours a day alone with Him.  But that is largely a shattered lens these days, I believe.  Our lives are busy; your lives are busy.  We must make our relationship with God a priority; you must make your relationship with God a priority.  There is nothing more to be said here.

9. We have some of the deepest life relationships with believers from other cultures.
- Few things I know of will knit hearts together more closely and more permanently than true intercultural friendships.  One person alone may work hard to understand another person and may thereby develop a decent friendship with him.  But when two people must put tremendous effort into understanding and appreciating each other, that bond will not be easily broken.  This is especially true in the relationships between believers, where our mutual love for Jesus transfers into our love for each other and our likemindedness for God's cause in the world unites our desires and passions for the ministry.  I doubt that anyone can fully appreciate this bond until he or she has experienced it personally.

10. We look forward to eternal company in heaven.
- Yes, we get lonely.  That is one of the most difficult parts of being on the foreign field.  But why do we do it?  Family is the first relationship God gave us on this earth.  Why would we abandon that family and move to another part of the planet, removing our children from those families as well?  Because one day we became part of a bigger family.  We became part of an eternal family.  And the Head of that family asked, no, commanded us to go and invite into that family others whom He loves and desires.  We leave our first families on one part of this planet because our new family (of which many of our first family members are also a part!) is all across the planet!  One day we will be able to be together permanently, even eternally, as one big, happy family and that is what we look forward to.  That is why we endure the loneliness now for the fellowship later.


These are the things that we missionaries don't tell you enough.  But they are all true.

Hard Doctrines and Agreeing to Disagree

These should perhaps be two separate posts, but feeling that the two often go hand in hand I've decided to cover them together. My first thought is this: Many doctrines taught in the Bible are very difficult to study. They are "hard doctrines" - either to understand or to accept. This will not be news to any consistent Bible reader and should not be a surprise to any of us because of the very nature of the Bible's divine origin and our fallen and earthly intellect. In many areas of theology, the Bible appears to hold or permit differing views. One of the most commonly known of these difficult areas is the matter of God's sovereignty and man's will. Other areas include the roles of faith and works in salvation, an understanding of the old and new covenants and Israel's role in history, the continuance of certain spiritual gifts, the "now and not yet" nature of the kingdom of God, and the future timeline of mankind and creation.

In my own life, I try to constantly be digging deeper into these areas - to read multiple and variant books on the topics and listen to deep, lengthy sermons discussing the relevant Scriptures. Often, I find myself further confused or "in over my head," but I believe it is a struggle worth making. I occasionally hear the comment, "Why do you keep going on that one topic? You'll never be able to fully understand it, so why keep studying?" Are they right? If there are certain doctrines I will never fully grasp, why shouldn't I just forget about it and "take it in faith?"

I have two concerns. Number one, as a minister of the gospel, a student of theology, a missionary to a lost world, and an instructor of pastors, I feel it is my duty to make every effort to understand clearly what the Bible teaches. Doctrinally, I believe that God is indeed black and white, that the Bible holds only one position on all matters, and that the Bible is sufficiently clear to communicate everything God wants us to know for life. Number two, even if I weren't a vocational minister, I believe it would still be necessary to make every effort as a lay person to equip myself with a correct understanding of God and His truth.

Now, the fact remains that some doctrines I will not understand until eternity, when my glorified body is separated from my fallen nature and I will know fully what I now know in part (1Co.13:12). In all our studies, we must be careful never to force our logic beyond what the Scripture explicitly states, for even our human reason is fallen and flawed and finite. We won't get the answer to every one of our questions. As one of my seminary professors liked to say, "The Bible is too short. It just didn't tell us everything we wanted to know." However, we cannot allow ourselves as Christians to retreat to "faith" as a cover for theological laziness. Too many times, I have been in discussion with another believer on a difficult doctrine over which we disagree and heard, "I can't explain why I believe that, I just take it in faith."

It is for this reason that I have really grown to dislike the phrase "agree to disagree." While I do respect that the intent of the message is to maintain unity amidst conflict, I feel that people too often rush there and hold it up as a shield. It seems to me a final resort to hold to an untenable position. It is the period to end a discussion without further pressing the matter.

This person will merely disagree - no further discussion is permitted and no passage of Scripture given to refute or defend. Or instead, they will dismiss - that's not really what the passage means or it doesn't really matter anyway. Occasionally, they will divide - suddenly you don't see them anymore or they relate to you only on surface issues. Or they will distract - the hard doctrine is avoided and the topic changed. Or they digress - well, this other person who agreed with your position also did this or said that. The correct response for the believer is to discuss and decide - bring up all relevant Scriptures, pray, study, seek counsel and wisdom from God and others, then take the more reliable position, allowing room for personal conviction.

Paul's exhortation to Timothy has grown to become one of my favorite passages as it refers to these matters. "Study! . . . to show yourself approved unto God, a worker who has no need to be ashamed, *rightly dividing the word of truth*" (2Ti.2:15, emphasis mine). Study is required of us. Diligence is used in other translations. "Do your best." "Make every effort." All of these carry the same idea. It takes hard work in God's Word to understand hard doctrines. But we must do that work to be approved by God! Then we will be workers who don't need to be ashamed and we will be able to rightly - correctly - divide God's Word.

This is why I persist in study. It's not because I have to know everything or have to always be right. It's because I sense that there is more in the Word that I do not yet know. When I am unsettled on a matter and another minister I respect is settled on it, I want to hear from him why. Where his reasons are valid and biblical, I will take up his position as well. May we always be diligent to learn more about God, and in knowing Him more, to love Him more!

Cultural Disconnect

It is said that some of the biggest changes a missionary will go through relate to culture. As a matter of necessity, one must observe, analyze, and adopt (parts of) the culture in which he will be ministering. In the process, he will lose or intentionally discard some parts of the culture to which he is native.

As our time in the States was coming to a close and our move around the world began to approach, I remember feeling a noticeably increasing disconnection from other Americans. As I would sit and have my lunch break at Chick-fil-A, I remember some of the conversations I heard around me (sorry, everyone; I eavesdrop). Two older ladies sat one day involved in what seemed like a deep, serious talk. "Oh, I just cant believe it!" they remarked in hushed tones. "I'm really going to miss him." "Oh, me, too. I just don't know if it will ever be the same again." I couldn't figure out what they were talking about. It sounded as if someone had died in their family. Then one of them said something like, "I don't know who they'll get to replace him. Those two always just interacted so well together! I mean he's been on NCIS since season 1!" I didn't know someone's life could be so wrapped up in a TV show.

Another day, I remember hearing a group of about 6 business people sitting at a table and chatting about their sports teams. It was amazing to me how much of their own identity seemed tied up in their college sports teams! "Last week, we lost to . . . " "It was our most embarrassing season ever!" "I couldn't be seen in public last week after that loss!"

I won't pretend to be completely innocent on these things. I loved watching Lost as much as anyone back when it was running. And I still love to follow American Idol (though less and less now). Actually, a few months before we left, I was at work one afternoon when two people were talking about "The Voice." They asked me who my favorite singer was and I didn't even know who was competing. I realized I was actually a little embarrassed to say, "We don't have cable." What I should have said was, "We canceled our cable, because I'm in seminary and don't have time to watch TV." I felt so weird, though - like I was already an outsider.

But life is just different now. It doesn't matter anymore. If I may share a personal struggle, it is very hard not to feel superior to others in my country now - as if their lives are so trivial and mine so spiritual. A short while ago, we missed the Super Bowl. Someone had mentioned the previous week that it was coming up, but we didn't even know who was playing until my news app gave me a notification that the Ravens had won. I didn't miss it. I mean, yes, Super Bowl parties are fun and I love having chips and queso and Cokes with all of my friends while we root for our opposing teams, but it just had no meaning on our lives whatsoever (maybe during World Cup we'll get some parties over here!). Then I got on Facebook and saw people raving about how amazing the raunchy halftime show was and I wondered, "Where is the disconnect? Is it just me? Would I have been just as caught up in the game if I had still been there?" I remarked on my Facebook that we'd missed the game and noticed several other missionaries said the same.

So, it's a lesson I'm learning. It's easy to get so caught up in my culture that it negatively affects my life, making it trivial at times. It's also easy to look at my culture without any discretion, merely taking in whatever it gives. In my foreign culture, I'm at the opposite point right now. I see many things in Africa negatively, wondering why the people don't use discretion in certain matters (pastors letting their kids watch American music videos all day). This is a developing process. I must learn to retain only those parts of my culture which are wholesome and meaningful and must learn to adopt any parts of this new culture that are beneficial without harshly criticizing the parts I believe to be negative (though tea time will definitely be adopted!).

Praying in Faith and Acting in Obedience

I am so excited to share this post. At various points in my life, the Lord has taken me through seasons of experiential learning in regard to prayer. I have always believed in the power of prayer. I have seen answers to prayer as God provided for my family, growing up on the road and living on support. When I was in my first year of traveling on my own with Life Action (when I was 18), the Lord took me through about 8 months of learning to pray a very specific prayer request and expecting that He would answer, not just hoping He would. This month has been a similar experience.

On October 1st, we contacted AIM about our current support levels in order to update our friends and supporters on our progress. We soon discovered that our numbers were not lining up. We were told that we had 96% of our outgoing support, but our records were showing only about 50%. The bottom line is that the entire portion of our budget designated for a vehicle was not included in the original number. To be honest, our hopes of leaving on schedule in January seemed nearly lost. We were now left with only two months to raise around $17,000 and I tried to begin preparing for a delay in our plans. At the same time, I was trying to think of some way that we could come up with the money on our own - since it seemed God hadn't handled it. I would never have admitted that, but that's sort of how my mind was working.

Then my dear wife and I began to talk. I am convinced that this is one of the reasons that God brought us together (and why he brings any man and woman together). At times when I am down or I lose focus, God will use Abby to say something that gets me back on track, or vice-versa. So we say, "I guess we need to pray really hard this month." One of us says, "Well, let's pray for something specific; specific prayers get specific answers, right?" "OK, then let's just pick a number." So one says, "Let's pray for $10,000 this month." The other says, "Whoa. I was thinking something more realistic, like half of what's left." The one says, "Why? Is there like a limit for how much we can ask for?" We chuckle at the reality of that statement. I mean we're at God's mercy anyway, right? He owes us nothing. Anything He brings in will be more than we deserve and only a taste of what He can provide. So we decide to pray for that number. Every night at dinner, we asked Jesus for $10,000 to help us get to Africa. Each time we would pray with Kyle before putting him in his crib, we would pray, "And please provide the $10,000 that we need to move to Africa. In Jesus' name, Amen."

Thus we were praying. We've prayed that every day this month, multiple times. To make practical steps, we began to contact more people. We wrote people who had already expressed an interest in supporting us. We emailed people whom we've never approached about support, but we knew their hearts and trusted that they would be willing to pray about giving. It would be up to the Lord to move hearts to give.

In this process of praying expectantly, I have noticed one thing to be significant - possibly critical. If one is to truly pray in faith, he must be in a position to rely wholly and completely on God, with no backup plan of his own in case the Lord does not answer as planned. In other words, there is often some crucial step that must be taken - some practical sign of surrender - before the Lord will answer the request. Here is what that looked like for me. As I began to pray for this month's $10,000, I was formulating in my mind some financial gimmicks that we could work together to come up with the money. For example, we could try to eliminate budget items we don't need as much, or we could pay everything from our own savings account and then finance the balance with some of our monthly salary, etc. None of these would come up with all the money we needed, but they would at least bring in a good portion of it, "making things easier" on God. My step of faith came on Tuesday, October 9th.

We have been planning on completing two of my ten seminary semesters before leaving in January. My next 8-week term was scheduled to begin on October 22nd, but I hadn't signed up yet. Since hearing about the big financial need, I had talked to Abby about not taking this semester and putting the money towards Africa. "I would rather be a semester behind on my studies than be delayed in going to Africa," I said to her. Looking back, I can see my lack of faith so clearly. I'm sure most of you can as well. I thought I was being wise. I thought I was even being sacrificial, putting my family and ministry ahead of my own goals. But as we prayed through it for the first week of October, Abby was the one to say, "I think you should go ahead and take your semester." The cut-off date for registration was October 10th. I registered on the 9th. And I remember as I signed up thinking, "OK, Lord, that's the last of my plan. There is no way that we'll be able to come up with this money unless you provide it."

I was at work that Tuesday. I actually registered for classes during my lunch break. Around 2:00, Abby called Chick-fil-A and asked for me. She told me that an old family friend who lives about 45 minutes from here just called. We have never heard from him personally and I haven't heard from him at all in probably 10 years or more. He had read of our needs in my parents' newsletter. He was meeting with the other elders of his church the next day at lunch and asked if I would come to share our Africa plans with them. I asked my boss if someone could come in and work for me for a couple of hours the next day. Someone did and I went to the meeting. I was very blessed by my time with the men. I sensed in the elders a very simple and whole-hearted commitment to the Lord and His work. We had a wonderful time fellowshipping together and discussing mission work. Later that evening, our friend called back and said that the church wanted to contribute $5,000 to our expenses. To give you the full perspective on this provision, the church has about 50 members, or 14 families. We ought never to underestimate what God can do with a small group of spirit-filled believers committed to do His will.

This is only one story. Family after family responded to us, committing $1,000 here, $500 there. Some families who already support us monthly committed to send extra for the coming months before we leave. Nearly every day, I have come home from work to Abby saying, "We got another $200 from so and so." Once we were praying in faith, with no backup plan of our own, God began to provide faster than we've seen him provide at any other time in our lives. As of this morning, between the commitments people have sent or pledged this month and the monthly support that will come in during November, we have 100% of our outgoing expenses pledged! We were asking for $10,000. God has brought in over $14,000. Our records won't officially reflect this until all of the pledges are in, but God has provided everything we need - not just half.

As we've prayed, I've anticipated writing this post. I told the Lord that I would. God's purpose in answering prayers is to bring glory to Himself. This is how we were praying: "Lord, please do this, so that we can tell everyone how great You are and how miraculously You've provided." He has. He is. Praise His name and His great power. I pray that this post will motivate each of His children to pray big things in faith, acting in obedience to everything He leads. Give God the chance to prove Himself great!

Tourist, Open Your Eyes.

This will be the most difficult piece of work I've ever had to write. The story shared here happened to me over two years ago. I have never told this to anyone outside my family and I have never been able to tell it to anyone in my family without choking back tears many times. What happened to me here truly "rocked my world." By definition, I would call it the most traumatic - "psychologically painful" - thing that has happened to me, but that word is usually linked to some type of death or physical injury, which did not happen here. Outside of all things spiritual, nothing has altered my psyche more than this day did. It happened in Mexico. I remember him as "The Man from Chichén Itzá."

In March of 2010, Abby and I were in Mexico, serving as missionaries. Abby's parents came to visit for a week and we had a wonderful time catching up with them. As part of their trip, we decided to take them to Chichén Itzá. Many tourists come through the Yucatan Peninsula and visit this ancient Mayan ruins, famous for its unique architecture indicating the spring and fall equinox. For anyone who has toured Mexico, it is commonly known that local artisans, musicians, and craftsmen set up small shops or tables lining every area that the tourists will walk. To most tourists, this merely adds to the charming atmosphere and cultural beauty of tourist destinations. I felt the same way up until this day.

As the visitors stroll through the sites, each area brings many new Mexicans trying their best to speak English and sell their products to the foreigners. "T-shirt, amigo? I make you good deal. Cheaper than Walmart!" No price they quote you is written on the objects and "haggling" or "bartering" is the common practice. Initially, they will give you some ridiculously high price and then expect you to counter their offer. If you lose interest in their product and walk away, they will lower their price with each step you take. If you return later, still interested, they will likely lower their price again or include another product for free. This makes shopping much more fun to the typical tourist.

As I walked around that day, I was taken in by the sights, of course. The endless calls from salesmen were interesting at first, but began to get annoying after a while. I did see a chess set, though, that I thought my father would love to have. So I looked at the set and thought, "I'd be willing to pay $20 or so for that." As the marketer approached me, he would ask which set I liked, explain to me what stones the pieces were made of and then offered it to me for $45 or something. It wasn't a ridiculous price and was better than what I would pay in the States, but I didn't have that much and we had to pay for gas on the way home, so I said no thank you and walked on. He stopped me and said that he would give me the smaller set for $20. I wasn't really interested in that set, because it would be more difficult to play on, so I thanked him and left. After taking in some more of the ruins, we had to return the same way and the man waved me over. He had asked his shop owners (his family) about my offer and agreed to give me the set I'd wanted for $20. I was very grateful and the set made a great Christmas gift for my dad. But the event got me thinking.

We had only been at the site for an hour or so, and I was left with several more hours to observe and learn. God, I felt, was opening my eyes. I began to watch the locals barter and sell to other tourists. Without my chess incident, I wouldn't have noticed the humble Mayan ladies selling beautiful bracelets and hand-woven purses for "One dollar, sir, one dollar?" I wouldn't have seen the poor man desperately following after a group of Americans in Oakley sunglasses, pleading, "Anything, sir, anything you want. Very cheap," or the woman I heard muttering carefully, "Teeee-chirt. Tee-chirt," then approaching a visitor, "Tee-chirt, mam?" The better English the locals spoke, the more attention they received from the Americans, while the Spanish speakers were passed by in confusion.

It was then that I saw the Man from Chichén Itzá. He looked about my age, maybe slightly older. He didn't have a shop or stand like everyone else, but was walking around carrying a big wooden carving. It was beautiful. It was a large rectangle piece, probably 3' x 2', that obviously started as a large single block of wood. It was carved into an elaborate design of animals and plants in a mural format. I only slightly noticed him at first, before a visitor came up to him and was interested in his carving. The man carefully showed his masterpiece to the guest and with his few English words said, "Fifty dollar." I tried to think what a piece like that would cost in the States. I couldn't see it going for less than $100 and more likely $175-$200. The tourist obviously thought it was too much and began to walk away. "No? Tirty dollar?" By now I couldn't look away. There was no way this should happen. I looked carefully over the carving from a short distance away. It was so intricate. I couldn't guess how many days it must have taken to create. And what if one mistake were made? The whole work would be destroyed and need to be restarted. The skill this man must have had and the time he must have put into his work should have earned him a month's salary. The visitor kept shaking his head and walking. "Twenty, sir... Ten dollar." Finally, the man left the tourist. As he turned away, he said something that would forever change my life. Several other Mexicans were standing nearby at their booths. The man passed by them and said, "No sé que más puedo hacer. Tenemos que comer." "I don't know what else I can do. We have to eat."

I was stopped in my tracks. His words sank in. For a moment, I wasn't even sure if I'd heard him correctly, but I watched the faces of the other men as they gave him sympathetic looks, a grimace, and slight nods of agreement. I did hear correctly, and he wasn't the only one in his spot. They all felt his pain; they were all in his shoes. These people, whom I had seen as kind villagers giving the tourists a neat experience and some cute souvenirs, were poor families doing everything they could to scrape out a living - to put food on the table for their children. They were desperate husbands, fathers, wives, mothers, even children, hoping to earn just a small part of the extravagant wealth that passed by them in the pockets of foreigners.

Fortunately, the day was almost over when this happened. We were on our way out. I couldn't stand to be around it anymore. I felt hurt and wounded. It was the truest sense of compassion, of sympathy, I think I've ever felt. When I think of Jesus looking out over the multitudes and being moved with compassion by their estate, my feelings that day are how I imagine He felt. Furthermore, I felt ashamed. I felt embarrassed. I felt disgraced by the money in my wallet and the amounts left in our bank accounts. I found myself asking the Lord, "Why me? Why was I born in such a prosperous land and he into such poverty?" I didn't feel "blessed" as we Americans so often say. I felt as if I'd received a position I didn't deserve and he was worthy of a position much higher than what he was given.

In retrospect, I'm glad the carving wasn't sold for such a pittance. I pray that that dear man was able to find someone with much more of an appreciation for its beauty and his hard work and a much looser grip on his own wallet. But the fact remains that all of the work and toil came down to food on the table, even at the loss of such an effort. I told the scene to the rest of our family who was there, but the event played over and over in my head on the drive home. We drove for probably three hours and I spent at least half of those lost in my thoughts and crying.

Now, a balanced perspective is needed. These were only the thoughts going through my head that day. We in America are indeed blessed by God with material goods more than any others in the world, but God has not given us those blessings to hoard for ourselves. As time has passed, I have not forgotten that day or that man, and I have asked the Lord to shape my thinking on how I live with this new perspective.

In a mercado like this, not everything is genuine. Every shopkeeper claims his work is "hand-painted," "unbreakable," or "almost free." In fact, the chess set that I bought I saw again later that day and the man offered it to me for twelve or fifteen dollars. That wasn't the point. I was glad for what I paid for it. The bartering is not the problem either; that is merely a cultural difference. The problem is when the tourists are so stingy that they basically rob the vendor of the reward of his hard work. However, we need not feel indebted to every single vendor for the diligent effort they "personally" put into their products. They may have purchased it just as you will. Yet others can be seen doing their own work and ought to be compensated fairly for their efforts.

The fresh viewpoint began to affect me immediately. As we left the ruins, we passed by the last few locals and I noticed a man sitting near the entrance with a tool in his hand. He was carving a mask just like the hundreds of others I'd seen there. I glanced over at him just as he sat down in the shade, set the mask and the tool down, and wiped the sweat off of his drenched forehead with a sigh. Crying again, I walked out of the gates. Abby wondered what was going on and I told her. The Lord laid something on my heart then. I tried to get back into the park and a guard stopped me. I asked him, "Please, sir, may I go back in for just a moment? I just need to give something to that man right there." He hesitated a bit, but did allow me back through. I went up to the man and handed him some money. "Sir," I said, "I want to give you this. It's for nothing. I just really appreciate the hard work you do. Your mask is beautiful. I also want you to have this," handing him a gospel tract. "This is the Word of God. It can change your life forever." I don't know how the tract may have affected him; we never really do. I didn't give him the money just so that he would read the tract either. I just wanted him to connect the two. He had probably never been paid in exchange for nothing before, so I wanted him to remember that the person who gave to him with words of appreciation was a Christian.

I don't want to make this story melodramatic. I have tried to describe it with the level of seriousness with which it affected me. To say this incident was traumatic is not to diminish other people who have gone through more devastating experiences - divorce in the family, the loss of a child, or the tragic death of a loved one. The description is really a testimony to what an exceptional life the Lord has given me. I haven't experienced many traumatic events. The only deaths I've experienced closely were of my father's mother and my mother's father, both of whom were believers and were happy to leave this life for the next. But this was a painful incident that has changed my perspective forever. I know it is permanent because just last week I was in a similar market in Mexico and was reminded of the Man from Chichén Itzá. It is very hard for me to be in a place like that now.

I also don't expect that this story will affect my readers to the degree it did me. Yet I write it in the hope that God will use it. It truly and permanently changed me. I pray that many will read this. I pray that this message will reach people I will never meet. I would pray that this post receives 10,000 hits, so that I may know that there are now 10,000 people who may travel to another country, remember the Man from Chichén Itzá and give generously of their resources to help those less fortunate. I pray that this outside perspective will affect us wealthy Americans (and that is all of us) so that we will live our lives in moderation and give of our resources to help those in need around us and around our world. Here I leave my story and its results to God.