Fear and Sparrows

We have a couple of sparrows who live somewhere around the house here in Quito. A lot of mornings they hop around the metal bars on our windows and chirp at each other. I like those little guys because they remind me of me.

They are ordinary. Not rich, famous or exciting. They're common. Birdwatchers don't begin their year hoping to catch their first sparrow. Microsoft popped up a screensaver of an amazing snowy owl. These two will never be photographed. And certainly would never make the Microsoft screenshot list.

This morning I came downstairs and there one was sitting on the bar. He looked rough, like he'd been out drinking all night or his wife kicked him out of the nest. It's cold and rainy. His feathers were all bushed out and wet and the ones on his head looked like he had slept on them wrong, jutting out in all directions.

I thought, "Yeah Buddy, I've felt that way a few mornings too."

We seem to be afraid in America. Of North Korea, Russia, the economy, crime and violence. And we seem to be afraid of each other. We're afraid of people who look different than we do, behave differently or have different beliefs.

Television news shows pit us against each other so we can shout at each other and drive up ratings. Websites give us tantalizing click bate to pull us into their site so they can charge more for advertising. All the yelling and headlines drive up stress and it's, frankly, terrifying.

And in the cacophony of frantic voices I hear Jesus say, "Remember your sparrows."

Then I wonder, "Do we really believe?"

Do we believe what Jesus told us in Matthew 10 that God is aware of even those two little birds outside my window?

Do really believe that in the middle of this big city, with it's millions of people he sees those guys? That in the country with over 1600 amazingly beautiful and diverse species he thinks these two are just as beautiful? 

Do we believe God is so infinitely aware and so focused on his creation that he knows the kind of night my little friend had? That he knows about all his twisted little feathers? That he cares about each one?

Do we believe he cares more about us?

The passage in Matthew 10 is actually pretty terrifying. It talks about poverty, flogging and getting called before the courts. It talks about threats, brothers turning against brothers and even the possibility of death. 

And then... "don't be afraid. God is even aware of the sparrow."

I can't say that I understand all of that. We live in a pretty scary world that seems to becoming only more divisive. Still... I'll try to get up each morning, look at my two little guys and remember God sees us both. 

Love Songs

Nancy and I were listening to some Country Music the other day. I can't remember the song now but the guy kept saying over and over, "I'm going to show you how much I love you."

Now he didn't ever say explicitly what he was going to do, but the implication was clear, it was all about sex. I started thinking about that and about all of the other songs that have been written by men for women and I realized, that's what almost all of them say.

Listen guys, I'm sure you're good, really good, probably way above average, but if you REALLY want to show your wife you love her, here are some ideas.

Do the dishes. The laundry. Vacuum. Dust. Change a diaper. Cook dinner. Watch the kids. Take her on a date. Give her a massage (without expectation). Take the kids out of the house. Let her have girlfriends. Let her go out with them. Tell her she's brilliant. Tell her she's beautiful. Buy her flowers. Buy her chocolate! Pause the TV and truly listen. Listen some more. And some more. Turn the game off. Study her. Learn.

Do it again tomorrow.

Do you want to show your wife how much you love her? Then help.

Fifty years ago our wives stayed home. We don't live in that world anymore. Most of our wives work. Then they come home and we still expect them to handle everything. More than likely, your wife is exhausted, stressed, worried about 100 things you haven't even thought of. And the last thing she has energy for is you to "show your love." Because lets face it, that's really about what you want.

If you want to show her how much you love her, do what she wants. Help her.

Maybe, my list is way off. Maybe it doesn't apply to your relationship. You can dismiss me if you'd like... but only if you ask her, "What would it look like for you to feel loved?" It may cost you something. I think love always does.

Yet I Still Dare to Hope

The Sunday after Christmas, my friend Jeremy was on the schedule to preach at our church here in Quito. He drove back from vacation to give a message based on Lamentations. And I have to tell you I wasn't really impressed. First he left vacation. Second he's preaching on Lamentations. Third it's right after Christmas. 

I may have thought something like, "Way to go Jeremy, leave your family in the mountains so you can come back and suck the Christmas spirit right out of the rest of us. Awesome Dude." 

But I was wrong. He did a great job reminding us of the context of Lamentations 3:22-24. In the New Living Translation:

22 The faithful love of the Lord never ends!
    His mercies never cease.
23 Great is his faithfulness;
    his mercies begin afresh each morning.
24 I say to myself, “The Lord is my inheritance;
    therefore, I will hope in him!”

What his message did, is what all good messages do, it drove me back to scripture. Jeremy helped us understand the environment in which those verses were written, but I wanted a little more, so I went back and read what lead up to that statement. Here is a paraphrase of some of the statements the writer makes regarding God.

He led me into darkness. He turned his hand against me. He besieged me with anguish. He has blocked my way. I cannot escape. He has shut out my prayers. He has torn me to pieces. He shot arrows into my heart. He has filled me with bitterness. He has made me chew gravel. Peace has been stripped away.

And then, "I will never forget this awful time, as I grieve over my loss. Yet I still dare to hope as I remember this: The faithful love of the Lord never ends... "

There are two things that I just can't shake about those two verses. "I will never forget... Yet I still dare to hope."

This is not some Pollyanna, all things work together, platitude kind of faith. This is a faith that acknowledges pain. Maybe even a sense of feeling wronged by a God who's ignored him. This is a faith that remembers... yet still dares to hope.

To dare implies risk. Uncertainty. But he will hope anyway. Why? Because of what he also knows to be true. "The faithful love of the Lord never ends."

Somewhere in his dark, lonely, unanswered prayer and gravel chewing moments he knows he has but one hope. And so he clings to it. The faithful unending love he knows God has for him. The same love he has for you and me. No matter how much gravel we may feel like we've been chewing.

It's as bewildering as it is beautiful. Yet... lets dare to hope.

One Kind Man

In the mid 70's Charlie and Betty Brewster had an idea. Charlie owed a business in Alaska that was doing pretty well and they would vacation in Maui. There was something about the setting, the peace of it, that rejuvenated and fed them.

Despite his wealth, there was a humility to Mr. Brewster. There was an intuitive awareness that not everyone had been as blessed financially as he had been. And there was a keen understanding that people who work in vocational ministry were probably near the bottom of that financial ladder.

Charlie and Betty understood that the refreshment that island gave them would be illusive to the majority of pastors and missionaries. So they began to dream and they reached the conclusion, "We can't preach and we can't sing, but we can do this."

So they bought 65 acres of dry undeveloped scrub brush, a mile or so from the beach, up Mt. Haleakala above the town of Kihei, overlooking the ocean. They built a four wing guesthouse and a caretaker's cottage.

That's when they found out Betty had cancer. She died two years later. Then a wildfire came so close to the guesthouse it melted the light fixtures on the lanai. Then Charlie's father died. Then his brother. Then while he was driving down the mountain in Alaska, he hit a moose, fracturing his neck and putting him on bed-rest.

Requiring full-time care during his recovery, Charlie began to wonder, "Were we wrong? Should we even continue?" His nurse encouraged him not too decided to quickly. So he waited, healed and then began again.

Finally, after 10 years of loss and struggle, they began to develop the property. Irrigation, fruit trees, macadamia nut trees and all kinds of flowers and plants. Birds began to nest there, wildlife began to pass through. And weary servants began to pass through.

Nancy and I have had the good fortune to stay twice at Brewster Rest Haven. Each time allowed a two week stay of healing and restoration. We've explored, snorkeled, sometimes spent days doing nothing and have watched sunset after sunset over the ocean.

Hundreds of God's workers have experienced healing. All provided by a couple who couldn't preach or sing. I think too often we look in the mirror and only see our limitations, our faults and our weaknesses. We see all of the things we can't do and so, decide to do nothing.

I am so thankful for a man who asked, "What can I do?" I believe he paid a price for that question, a price many in ministry would understand. His willingness to ask and his determination to follow, even through adversity, has breathed life into many. It's humbled me. And it's caused me to ask, "What can I do?" 

Ambiguity

We leave Ecuador in a week and still do not have our visas to return. Our lawyer doesn’t seem too concerned. So, there's one person.

One of the most exciting/challenging/infuriating things of cross-cultural living is the level of uncertainty that is always just under the surface. 

You can just click into automatic in your home country. You know what you'll find at the grocery story, if they'll have the part when your car breaks, what your commute will be like, consistent electricity and water. Generally, things work the way you expect them to.

We have no idea what it means if we don’t receive a visa.

Can we still return in November?
Do we have to wait until January?
If we’re out of the country when it’s approved, will we still receive it?
Would we have to start the process over?
What does it mean if we’re rejected completely? Can we come back? When? For how long?

I don’t throw out those questions because we’re panicked. We’re not. The worst that could happen is we’ll have to go back to our home, to our bed, with our dog laying at the foot of it. The only thing lost would be our plans. 

I mention the questions because things would be different if, like most missionaries, we had sold everything, raised a bunch of money, then moved our family to go where we believed God had called us. It creates all kinds of practical and spiritual questions.

As strange as it may sound, a life in missions is a life of "not knowing." It puts us in a place of dependency. It's a hard place. An exhausting place. And its the place where we need to be. 

Leaving the Harvest

Jesus said, "The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest to send out workers into his harvest field."

I wish he'd added, "And ask him to help them get along!"

I have heard the number one reason missionaries leave the field is because of other missionaries. I've never seen the study, so I don't know if it was done by MSNBC or Breitbart, but it's at least close to true.

Now they also leave for, ailing parents, needs of children, and even retirement. And those are the reasons they tell you.

But usually there's a story behind the story. We tell the cleaned up version. The one that makes people smile and nod instead of cringe. We do it to "protect Jesus" or the mission, or so we don't look like a failure. 

People think, in missions, their coworkers will be like Jesus. What they find is some are as impulsive as Peter or as power hungry as James and John. Some will doubt them, like Thomas and some are as demanding and as Paul. 

So missionaries hit the ground expecting to work with Jesus and instead they get disciples. It's awful!

You can get some toxic people, but that's usually not the case. These are all good, Jesus-loving people, who left home to change the world. And they are all living at a constant level of cross-cultural and ministerial stress that can make them act in some very un-Christlike ways.

Sometimes it's just we're all very different people, trying to get to the same place, by going in different directions.

So, if you have a missionary you pray for... when you pray for their protection, their cultural adjustment, language acquisition and success in ministry, pray too for their team. Pray for healthy relationships with teammates. For unity and friendship. For laughter and joy in the work.

Because joining the harvest is great. And we need to stay together until it's completed.

Facebook Church

A few years ago, Nancy and I were going through a rough time. Our marriage wasn't in jeopardy, but the relationship was definitely strained.  We had already purchased some tickets for a fun day out, so we had to use them.

The night before had been tense. That morning was tense. And even our time together throughout the day was awkward, as we tried to enjoy what we were doing, without resolution to our conflict.

We took the obligatory photos and posted them to Facebook. It's what you do when you're having a day of adventure with beautiful things to see. You share them with... well, everyone. People liked and commented on the pictures. And everything was fine until someone wrote, "Wow. I wish I had your life."

I was heart sick. No. Not today you don't. Beautiful pictures, of a beautiful place, with smiling faces didn't tell the whole story. I felt like I had posted a lie.

But I have to wonder, how much different is that from my Sunday morning? I show up to church, showered, smiling, handshakes and hugs. "I'm good! How are you? How's the family? Hows your week? Good weather. Great game! Wonderful worship. Great message. So good to see you. Hope you're doing well. See you next week."

I can show up, participate, but never engage. I can spend time with people, listen to people and leave without them ever really knowing who or how I am. I can get the "likes," "hearts," and "smiley faces" that feed my ego without ever sharing how much I'm struggling.

Facebook's got nothing on a church lobby. The narthex was Facebook way before Facebook. It's where I can be real, but not too real. It's where I can "post an image" that's as fake as a whitewashed tomb.

When I don't tell the truth of who or how I am I cheat myself. There is nothing more humbling, there is nothing more healing than the acceptance and outpouring of support from a loving community. If we never admit our brokenness, we can never experience the wonder of unconditional love.

And we cheat everyone around us. Who wants to share a struggle with someone who never seems to have one?  Who can see God's glory if I am always displaying mine.

I get it, it can be scary to tell the whole story. And I understand, not every place is safe to do so. I also believe it's a better way to live. It's the way Christ asks us to live. Because only then, when someone says, "Wow. I wish I had your life," they will truly understand what they are asking for.