The Least Important Place

When I was a teenager, my family went to counseling. On our first visit, one of the things that that counselor did was place chairs of various size and comfort level in his office, and as the family entered, he paid attention to which family members took which seats. Before any of us opened our mouths the counselor was already able to analyze some of our family dynamics by observing how we entered the room and which seats we chose. For example, I, a youngest child, had often been relegated to the "kid's table" or the folding chairs in any given setting. For that reason, even though I was the first person to enter his office, I chose what I perceived to be the least comfortable seat. The counselor took note.

In the fourteenth chapter of Luke, we see Jesus making similar observations. He had been invited to the house of a high-ranking Pharisee, and as the other guests arrived, he noticed that they were coming in and taking the best seats at the table. The master recognizes a teachable moment when he sees it, and he offers a lesson in etiquette--one that applies to both guests and hosts.

Lately I was drawn to consider this story through the lens of missions. As missionaries, we are guests. Those in the countries to which we go are hosts. And I think the points that Jesus makes here in Luke are relevant to us. In fact, I think they’re critical. After having spent the last year studying missionary effectiveness and sustainability, I’m seeing some connections to this story.

The passage begins with Jesus noticing “how the guests chose the places of honor.”

When I read that, I asked myself, “Might Jesus make the same observation about missionaries arriving on the field?” Do we, too, tend to come in and assume leadership roles? Do we enter with a sense of self-importance? Do we consider that what we have to offer (the Gospel!!!) entitles us to occupy places of prominence and visibility?

While our motivation and urgency may be holy, our means are messy and broken. Yes, we have a call. Yes, we have a mission. Yes, we have a message. Yes, we have vision. And yet…we are guests. And how we enter will necessarily impact the way in which that message is received.

If we come expecting to be heard, needed, respected, and valued, if we have confidence in our resources, tools, and agendas, we will naturally gravitate to the highest places. To the head of the class. To the front of the church. We will be tempted to tell our hosts how it should be done, offering our classes and training seminars, as if we—the guests—should serve the main dish. But it isn’t even our house. It’s not our party. Not our place.

So how should we enter?

“When you are invited by someone to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, because a person more distinguished than you may have been invited by your host….But when you are invited, go and take the least important place.”

What would happen if missionaries arrived and took “the least important place”? Could we come in and serve? Could we offer what we have from below or beside, rather than from above? Think about Jesus, the first cross-cultural missionary, who chose to be born in a barn, raised as a commoner, minister with fishermen. He could have stepped into a head rabbi position at the local synagogue. Instead he touched lepers, talked to scandalous women, and washed feet. I’d say, in most ways, Jesus took the least important place. And his means of sharing his message only helped to illustrate its truth. Even he did not come to be served, but to serve (Mk 10:45).

Jesus modelled the way.

For me, that means I, too need to enter humbly, grateful for the privilege of even being invited. I need to sit back, quietly, watching and learning. This is different than biding my time until I see a place that I can jump in and take. It’s different than waiting for a lull in the conversation when I can speak up and propose my ideas. It’s setting aside my plans and agendas—for a time. When I watch and learn, I’ll ask more questions and offer fewer solutions.

When I watch and learn, I’ll marvel at the wisdom and insight of the hosts. I’ll give my time, energy, and resources to serve their plans. I’ll work for their success. I’ll take their advice. I’ll adapt to their way of doing things. And as I watch and learn, I’ll begin to see the weaknesses and flaws in my own plans. I’ll invite the host to give me input, to help me modify, refine, or even scrap my plans. Until I am invited to do otherwise, I will stay in that “least important place”—washing feet and dying to myself.

But there is another side to the story. The host has a role to play, too.

Here are Jesus’ words to the hosts:

“…when your host approaches he will say to you, ‘Friend, move up here to a better place.’ Then you will be honored in the presence of all who share the meal with you.”

And…

“When you host a dinner or a banquet, don’t invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors so you can be invited by them in return and get repaid. But when you host an elaborate meal, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.”

The role of the host is to invite the other and outsider to come inside. The host is to recognize the strengths and the gifts of the guests, and seek to provide those guests places of honor. Jesus knows that we tend to be more comfortable with people who are like us, and so we can often build our lives and ministries around our own affinity groups. Our friends, brothers, relatives, fellow nationals. Jesus invites the host to look beyond her normal network to those who are different.

The nationals are the hosts. They are the only ones who can open the door into the culture for the missionaries. They are the ones who can pull out a seat at the right place at the table, so that each missionary is able to make his best contribution to the Kingdom work that is going on in that country. Missionaries can and should bring valuable energy, perspective, and gifts to the host countries. And if those gifts are left to languish at the kiddie table, then Kingdom resources are sadly wasted. Insiders, too need to seek to understand and discover the contributions that outsiders can bring to the party. They too, could benefit from a dose of humility that acknowledges gaps and weaknesses they have in their own systems and welcomes the missionary as an emissary sent by God to fill in those gaps.

If going to a country where there is a Christian presence, the missionary must submit to the nationals. We are their guests. They are our brothers and sisters in Christ. We must start by showing respect, admiration, interest, and teach-ability. We must build trust and genuine friendship. We need, yes need to sit at the lowest place until we are invited up. And the hosts need to extend those invitations

But what if there is not a Christian presence? Even then…even then, I would say there is a mandate for a period of watching, learning, and listening to the culture before we begin to implement plans. When Paul arrived in Athens he made observations about the culture before he began to preach.

For this reason, I am working to create a multi-cultural association in France that will accompany missionaries in their transition to the field. That association is going to be called Elan, and I’ll be telling you more about it in the weeks and months to come. The vision was birthed out of my heart’s desire to see greater collaboration and cooperation for the sake of the kingdom of God. But it is rooted in the belief that God calls us to community…around a table…where etiquette matters. 

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Where Is My Super Suit?

There is a temptation for a missionary to think of herself as a sort of super hero, a savior, a rescuer. We kind of like being needed. And if we think that we have some indispensible wisdom, tool, or key to the Gospel, then we're quite likely to enter our host culture with our hands on our hips, chest puffed out, and a "Aren't you glad that I showed up!?!" attitude.

But then if we aren't needed, why do we go? 

Oh, but I think we are needed. The question is not "Is there a need?" The question is "What is the need?" And maybe even more importantly, we need to ask, "What is my best contribution?" Must the foreign missionary always lead the charge? Or might my best contribution be a listening ear, a helping hand, and a teachable spirit?

The challenge is that most Americans don't know how to show up just to be present and participate. We're typically trained, equipped, and sent as leaders, and by the US understanding of "leader," that means that we're going to have our own plans and vision and goals. We have mission statements! We have resources! We have know-how! We have funding! 

We come to do. We're comforable in capes.

But what if we came like Jesus?

What if we asked more questions? What if we gave away our power? What if we dined with more sinners, washed more feet, and carried more crosses? What if we lived by the upside-down principals of the Kingdom, and really did take the lowest place? Will I enter in humbly, and only move to a place of honor and visibility if invited by my host?

I think there is a fear among us, those who go to foreign places for the sake of the Gospel. The fear is that if we aren't fixing and solving, we're failing. But what if we're called to participate rather than initiate? What if we're meant to be the servant rather than the leader? What if our presence is more valuable than our presentations? Will I enter into the work that robs me of my super hero persona? Can I have goals and ambitions for the Kingdom of God that don't put me on top? Can I write a mission statement that is based on yielding, listening, and joining?

Can we consider the possibility that as strangers, we might be wise to yield to our indigenous brothers and sisters? Or will we assume that God only calls us to lead? 

All the way back in 1907, during the height of the missionary era, V.S. Azariah, the first Bishop in India, said, "No country can be fully evangelized except by its native sons." He went on the speak at the first World Missionary Conference in Edinburgh saying,"Through all the ages to come the Indian church will rise up in gratitude to attest the heroism and self-denying labors of the missionary body. You have given your goods to feed the poor. You have given your bodies to be burned. We ask for love. Give us FRIENDS."

Can I be content to give love? To be a friend to the French Church? Or will I worry that I just won't have enough bullet points in my newsletter if I'm not running the show?

More recently, missiologists such as David Garrison of the International Mission Board have studied church multiplication movements and noted that whenever a movement happens, "local leaders, and not outside ministers or missionaries, give direction to the movement and take responsibility for it."

When French people ask us what we are doing here, we tell them that we are here to support the National Council of French Evangelicals' goal to have one church for every 10,000 people in France. We are here to join their efforts in facilitating a church planting movement. But then we are quick to say that we are not leading the church planting team here in Lyon. We believe that French people will plant the best French churches. We are here to help. To serve. To encourage. To bless. And we are thrilled to be in the helper roles. 

We hope to open a regional training center, to equip and empower French church planters, but even there we will work with and yield to French leadership. 

Does that mean that I no longer consider myself a leader? Of course not. I can't help being a leader. That is who God made me to be. But my understanding of what a leader does and how a leader can lead are definitely changing. I am leaning more and more into flat models of leadership and gaining a deep appreciation for collaborative work. There are venues where I am blazing a trail (I can't help it!) but I'm making sure that I'm building a coalition on the way, inviting other leaders in, and benefiting from mutual submission from the start. 

I am leading differently. I am listening more. And amazingly, I am seeing more fruit. 

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Festival of Lights

Last night was supposed to be the kick-off of the Fête des Lumières (Festival of Lights) in Lyon, an annual five-day celebration of the Virgin Mary, who--according to local legend, saved the people of Lyon from the plague in 1643. Mary is greatly esteemed--venerated--worshiped in Lyon. I have already gotten into deep conversations with people about Mary--she seems much more popular than Jesus in this city. But contrary to popular belief, Mary can't save them.

Following the Paris terrorist attacks, all of France has been on high alert. Therefore, for security reasons, the festival of lights was reduced to a one night event. High on the plateau above our apartment, the words #Merci Marie (Thank You, Mary with a hashtag!) were glowing in blue lights next to the Notre Dame Basilica.

The town also sought to honor the fallen victims of the Paris attack by inviting residents to place candles in their windows as a sign of solidarity. This gave a lovely glow to each building. In the photo they look like Christmas lights, but those are all actually candles.

David and Chandler and I went out to wander our neighborhood--which hosts the Festival of Lights. Food vendors and musicians were out in full force! We treated ourselves to hot spiced wine and (for the first time in our lives!) roasted chestnuts!

A band played outside of our window until midnight--it's a good thing we enjoy being in the heart of the action.

A coalition of local churches came together to hand out free Bibles in the neighborhood during the festivities. Each Bible contained a flyer for an outreach event that our church plant is hosting in January. Please pray that those who took Bibles would have their hearts and their minds opened to the Gospel. Pray that they would join us on January 29th to learn more about Jesus and his love for the world.

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What's Up?

Dear, dear friends! When things get quiet on the blog it's because life is hopping in real life! I hope that when you're not hearing from us, you're praying extra hard because that means we are running extra hard. I've entered into a travel season, and will be bouncing around the globe for a few weeks. But in the midst, I wanted to just give you a few highlights and prayer requests:

Church Plant in Old Lyon

• The People: We are loving our new home and already finding opportunities to engage our neighbors. I had an unexpected time praying with my new language helper, and I think God is already at work in her life. We have invited  all of our neighbors to an Open House this Saturday, and they all seem eager to come. Pray for the seeds of friendship to be planted and for open doors to the Gospel.
• The Need for a Building: Two of us from the team went to a meeting with the deputy mayor last week to make inquiries about abandonded buildings in the neighborhood. There are many vancant, vandalized buildings that do not have any contact information on them and we wanted to find out how to get in touch with the owners. We did get some leads, and today another team member is going to attempt to track down some phone numbers of owners through the avenues suggested by the mayor's office. Please pray for success! And that the Lord would lead us to just the right location. We'd like to be able to use the location for not only church services, but daily prayer meetings and also as a means to bless the community, perhaps through art exhibits or offering shared office space to starting entrepreneurs. 
• The Team: As we get together twice daily to pray for the city, the project, and each other, the Lord is knitting us together as a team. I am so excited about the gifts and experiences that each person brings to the table. David and I have started training two members on how to preach, and for the past three Sundays we have worshipped together as a team and then our teammates have practiced preaching to us. This gives them an opportunity to try out their new skills without too much pressure, And we are also able to give them feedback to help them contiue to grow and develop.

Other Ministry Endeavors

• Regional Church Planting Training Center: Today David is at a meeting in Paris for those who would like to open regional church planting training centers. This is a big part of our vision for Lyon, as we don't want to just plant one church but help to facilitate a church planting movement in the city. Please pray for wisdom and resources as David seeks to put all of the pieces in place that are needed in order to be certified to establish a regional training center here in Lyon. We already have one guy who is asking about enrolling in the program--which we hope to launch in the Fall of 2016.
• Trampoline: I don't have the time to go into too many details at this time, but this is the name of a ministry that I am hoping to launch in France in 2016. I am in the throes of doing research and making contacts and laying groundwork, and the response from all sides has been highly positive. The purpose of the ministry will be to help new missionaries who are arriving in France to reach deeper levels of integration, higher levels of effectiveness, and  greater levels of longevity on the field. I'm sure I'll be sharing more about this in the future, but for the time being I could use your prayers as I seek to develop a program that honors the vision and calling of missionaries as well as the faithful work and wisdom of our French brothers and sisters.  
• Church Planting: On Sunday I will go to Madrid for a conference that will bring together leaders from 16 different European countries to talk about leading national processes for church planting. Over 80 leaders will attend, and the conference will be led by a consortium of european leaders who have had successful experiences in this endeavor--some of which are my French colleagues. I have been invited to lead the times of meditation/reflection for this conference. My prayer is this: Word of God, speak through me. 

Family Adventures

• Flying: After a year of dashed hopes and false starts, it looks like David may actually be starting to do some flying here in Lyon. He has built a business relationshp with a plane owner and a travel coordintor, and he is starting to receive requests for his piloting services. Our hope is that he would be able to fly one day a week, which would help to offset my seminary tuition costs and would give us some credibility/relatability in the eyes of our French friends and neighbors.
• University Students: Chan has jumped into medical school with both feet, and seems to have settled into a routine. Graham is regularly texting us about the diversity of speakers that he gets to hear at convocation at Liberty--you know, like David Platt one week, and Bernie Sanders the next. This week they had someone from Lord of the Rings.

Well, friends, that's a snapshot of our life at the moment. I've left a lot out, but at least I've hit the highlights. We are so thankful for your prayers. So thankful. In all of these things, we want to see Jesus lifted high.

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It might just be...

...my favorite kitchen ever.

It's quirky and bright and I absolutely love it !

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Loving Lyon

After traveling to Germany for our GEM Annual Conference...

and spending a couple of days in Paris so that our friend, Selah, could take in all the sights...

and hopping the pond to Lynchburg, VA to help Graham settle in at Liberty University...

I finally arrived home in Lyon.

David and Chandler had managed the move in my absence, so I have the joy of simply settling in without having had the hassle of any heavy lifting. It's good to be the queen.

Still, settling is a work in progress. We don't yet have Internet hooked up, and our kitchen looks like this:

In France (and I believe in other parts of Europe) it is common to find that apartments do not always have what is called an "equipped kitchen." Our apartment did not come with an equipped kitchen, meaning we needed to supply not only all of the appliances (which we own, so no problem), but the kitchen cabinets as well (which we don't own). I'm pretty sure this is why IKEA exists. So we've ordered our cabinets, and they are scheduled to be delivered Monday morning, at which time David and friends will begin the task of installing our kitchen. And then cooking will be fun once again. Don't worry...I'll post pictures as soon as I can.

In the meantime, we are adapting (quite happily) to life in the heart of Old Lyon. We live above a restaurant, which means that the night life is active. Here is the view looking down from our bedroom window at 11 p.m. any night:

 And we often have the joy of hearing musicians performing live in the square. The style and duration of performances is greatly varied, but always pleasant. You'll notice that Gemma likes to sing along.

Jack, being an indoor cat, is right at home in our new digs. Gemma is learning to be a city dog. She lets us know when she needs to go out and do her business and she seems happy to walk the streets and bridges of Lyon. If she misses having a yard, she's not complaining about it. And I kind of like having to take her out several times a day, as it gives me a good excuse to stretch my legs and get some fresh air.

Once we're fully settled, with a kitchen and all, I'll give you a video tour. Our new apartment is only 96 square meters, which is about 1000 square feet. While it's less than half the size of our house in Loches, it might be my very favorite place I've ever lived. It's quirky and old and charming and well-situated. We live in a pedestrian zone and can walk or take public transportation just about anywhere we need to go. 

Yes. Life in Lyon is good. Very good.

Meanwhile, we're still looking for a location to rent for the church. Please join us in praying about this. We are already starting our morning and evening prayer routine as a team, but we're doing it it our homes for the time being.

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Good News/ Bad News

Good News: I finished my summer term of seminary, and I now have a break until September! I am eager to read FICTION, get back into a regular rhythm of blogging, and begin working on plans for a new ministry endeavor that I have brewing in my head.

Bad News: Our third application for an apartment in Lyon was denied.

Good News: Some very dear friends have offered to be co-signers for us, so our next application has a fighting chance!

Bad News: I (who almost NEVER play video games) have become addicted to a Play Station game called Hot Shots Golf. No, I don't golf in real life. But I'm beginning to understand the attraction. I'm having to self-impose limits on my gaming time, and while I can stick to my limits, I'm amazed at how confining they feel. And for the record, I totally blame Chandler, who had actually started praying that we would find a video game that I like to play.

Good News: I'm getting good at Hot Shots Golf. Yesterday I even beat David. I shot a -11 on 18 holes in Okinawa.

Bad News: My hip, which started hurting back in October, has worsened. I'm going in for an x-ray next week.

Good News: A hip x-ray in France costs 27,50€. That's a little over $30 with today's exchange rate. For reals.

Bad News: If the x-ray shows any sign of arthritis (which my doctor says is unlikely given my age, but still a possibilty) I will have to stop running.

Good News: If the x-ray shows any sign of arthritis I get to stop running!

Bad News: We won't be taking a vacation this summer--moving is our big splurge.

Good News: We still have some time off in August, which we will (hopefully) be able to use to get settled in Lyon. And exploring our new city will feel sort of like a vacation! Except the packing. I hate packing.

Bad News: I need to pack.

Good News: When all things are offered up to the Lord, bad news is made good. That's the gospel, Friends. Beauty from ashes. From video games to x-rays to packing--I rejoice, for my redemption draws near.

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High Anxiety

I'm not much of a worrier, or so I thought, until last year when I suffered through a season of panic attacks. Apparently, I simply repress worry until the worry stages a revolt, demanding to be heard through a racing heart beat, sensations of sheer terror, and shortness of breath. Suddenly Cool Jenn was outed by Freaked-Out Jenn. Worry was winning and I had to find a new way to cope.

Over the past year, the Lord has done deep and important work, gently inviting me to cooperate with the process, but clearly leading the way. I'm learning to face my fears--which means I have to admit they exist in the first place, darn it! Because the scary thing about fears is that they reveal root sins like a lack of faith, inordinate attachments, a need to control, and pride. God is teaching me to name these little buggers, confess them as sin, and find freedom. And I am being transformed by this process.

But over the past week, I've started feeling the flutters of anxiety once again.

We need to move to Lyon, but we are having trouble finding an apartment. Even though we meet all income requirements, our applications are being refused because we are foreigners and we don't have a co-signer. We have faced this monster before, and God always makes a way, but I'm feeling pressures of time. I know this is not a life or death issue and I know in the end it will all work out. But today? Today I'm struggling to find peace. My mind knows the truth, my soul stands firm, but my body is starting to revolt.

Providentially, I've been slowly working my way through the Sermon onthe Mount, and I recently came to section on anxiety.

Consider the lilies of the field....

Lilies don't work. They don't try to control or cajole or manipulate. They bloom in their season, tall and bright, clothed in glory but seemingly unaware of their own splendor.

Consider the birds of the air....

Birds don't worry. They don't wile away their summer wondering what will happen in the fall. They sing the glory of their creator, confident of His unending care.

And I serve a God who invites me to engage life like a lily, like a bird.

Jesus, help me to turn my impatience to praise, and my anxiety to "amen." Let me rest in the blessed assurance that you who clothe the lilies and feed the birds will not fail to meet my every need. 

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Praying for Lyon

This week I was in Lyon for a conference. My friend Tim, who is leading our church plant team that will launch to Lyon this summer, was also at the same conference. Since the conference was all about church planting, our colleagues gathered around us right there in the heart of the city and prayed for us and for Vieux Lyon, the neighborhood where we will plant.

We were blessed and encouraged by their love, support, and camaraderie. A Polish couple who just happed to pass by, stoppped by and joined in the prayer, as they were believers themselves. Then we dispersed into the city to pray and bless the community.

Here I am praying for a woman who was working as a living statue near the cathedral square. We had seen her earlier, and all of us noticed a tiny tear slide down her cheek. So we asked if we could pray for her and she was quite open. I also asked her if there was anything that she needed, any need we could meet for her. But she said no. 

I stayed over after the conference to look for an apartment, and I think I may have found one! Pray that our application will be accepted if it is, indeed, the place God wants us. We're moving from 200 square meters to 87 square meters. So pray for wisdom as we try to discern how to simplify and scale back! 

And in case you didn't see on FaceBook--Chandler just found out that he got accepted to the medical school in Lyon, so he'll be moving to Lyon with us. Rumor has it this is one of the best (if not THE best) medical schools in France.

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How God Ruined Our Family

In one of my classes we are reading through the book Water from a Deep Well by Gerry Sittser. It is a book that examines various expressions of faith throughout the history of the church and discusses the relevance of certain practices for the church today. In the chapter on Martyrs Sittser reminds the reader of how many of our forefathers and foremothers paid the ultimate price for their faith, suffering death for their refusal to renounce Christ. Still today, we have Christian brothers and sisters around the globe who face the same destiny. These people bear great suffering that is thrust upon them from unwanted sources.

But in another chapter Sittser talks about the Desert Fathers and Mothers. These were people who pursued a more challenging life in order to grow in their knowledge of Christ. Their suffering was, for the most part, chosen. And so Sittser asks the question, “Would it ever be right to choose to struggle?”

My gut response is, “Who needs to choose it? It comes knocking regularly!”

But really, it doesn’t. We are creatures of comfort, seeking ease and entertainment through every moment of the day. A slow line at the grocery store can seem to us like Chinese water torture. Traffic is endured as if we were letting blood. Our team loses the Super Bowl and we are plunged into despair. I think we have forgotten how to struggle. We have lost sight of the value of struggle. One of the desert fathers, Abba John, said, “Fighting is good for the soul.” He was talking about the struggles, both inside and outside, that turn us to Jesus and make us strong.

Most of us (myself included) spend our lives trying to figure out how to avoid struggle. And when we do struggle, the goal is to get out of trouble as fast as possible rather than trusting the Spirit to do his slow and faithful work in us through the struggle. We want out of the struggle more than we want the transformation that the struggle can bring. Oh, but the flesh dies slowly. And it dies in the struggle, not in escaping from the struggle.

In the midst of reading this chapter by Sittser, I was in the States with my two boys, Graham—a freshman in college, and Chandler—a senior in high school. As I spent some intense mother/son time with these two amazing guys, I became overtaken by a deep grief. Through our conversations and experiences, it gradually dawned on me how steep a price they each have paid for David and I having been called to France. Yes, there have been positives—bunches of them. And because we like to avoid pain, we have focused on those positives. They are real, and we are grateful. But they aren’t the only reality. The other truth—the harder truth, is that Graham and Chandler have struggled and suffered.

They are ruined.

Yes, I know, this has become quite the “catch phrase” for the fad of being “missional.” People talk about being “ruined” like they got a new tattoo. It is not so simple. Those who are truly ruined rarely brag about it. It hurts too much. It cost too much. And even saying it aloud sounds trivial to those who have actually lived it.

Ruined is not fun. It is not cute. It is not stylish.

It means that you have been broken in places that may never heal, so you have to learn to live into grace for every breath of life. It means that you will be misunderstood by almost everyone you know, so you have to cling to Jesus like he’s the only friend you’ve got. It means that life as you once knew it can never be your reality again, and so you choose to die to yourself again and again and again because it’s your only hope for life.

David and I chose this struggle. But our boys did not have the choice. And yet….

And yet they are learning to let the mess of their lives be turned into works of art for the glory of their king. There is nothing fake about them, for truly ruined people don’t have the luxury of masks or assumed identities. They are raw and fragile and genuine and strong.

We are a ruined family. And I while I have no doubt that we were right to follow God’s call to France, I would be sadly missing much of the point of this call if I did not acknowledge the struggle. What all this means is that obedience to Christ is expensive, and I’m not just talking about finances. True discipleship costs us our lives and even the lives of our children. True discipleship does not mean being spared from the flames. It means trusting in a God who brings beauty from ashes. 

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Strangers

While in the States, I had the privilege of meeting with a small group of women who had recently done some short-term mission work in Ethiopia. They were struggling to readapt to life back in the States, and felt a deep longing to return to Africa.

But I actually don’t think that they were longing for Africa. I think they were longing for heaven. Let me explain.

When we leave our home—our place of origin, and go to a place where language and culture are different—we get a glimpse of the greatness of the world that God SO loves. When the smells are foreign, and the clothing is foreign, and the faces and sights and sounds are foreign, we become aware of the fact that we are “other.” We experience what it means to be a stranger.

But then when we return to our place of origin, we have been irreversibly changed by our travels abroad, and suddenly we feel like strangers in our own home. We no longer think as we thought before. We no longer feel what we felt before. Even the words that come from our own mouth suddenly sound strange to our own ears. At that moment, in the place where we feel “other” in our own context, it is easy to imagine that the problem is one of location. “The answer is getting back to Ethiopia, where at least I expect to feel like an outsider.” Only you are “other” there too.

And so I’ve come to the conclusion that spending time in a foreign country—not as a tourist, but as one who seeks to understand and engage the culture—awakens in us a heavenly homing device. One that makes us keenly aware that we are no longer able to feel at home in the world. One that reminds us that we are strangers on the earth, destined for life with the Father. We long for a home that has no earthly address. And we accept our place as sojourners, travelers, pilgrims, aliens.

 In preparing to meet with these women, I asked Chandler, “After almost 5 years in France, what have you learned about what it means to live as a stranger?” His answer was profound. I am still learning from it. He said, without even a pause for reflection, “When you live as a stranger, you don’t expect people to understand you. Instead, you decide to do your best to understand others.”

Chandler realizes that those who have not been where he has been cannot be expected to understand what he understands. He, on the other hand, has the privilege of living in both worlds. Chandler may never be able to explain Root Beer to a French kid, but he can learn about what French kids drink. And from there a friendship can blossom.

The deep gift here is that when you live as a stranger, you know that you don’t know. So it’s easy to take the role of student. When you live as a citizen, it’s easy to assume that you DO know, and so sometimes you don’t work as hard at understanding others.

As citizens of heaven, we are called to take on the role of student, to seek to understand others and not assume that we know. Paul said that to the Greek he became Greek, to the Jew he became Jewish. He sought to understand a person and a culture before he presented the Gospel. This was not just an evangelistic strategy, it was a means of showing love and honor to those whom he was called to reach.

One final note. There may be those who think that I am insinuating that having multi-cultural experience makes one “better” or “holier” than others. I am not. There may be others who would insist that they can fully know or understand these ideas without multi-cultural experience. I would not agree with that assertion either. I would not agree because I know that someone who has fought cancer or lost a child or climbed a mountain has certainly experienced something about God and faith that I cannot understand.

God is working to shape each of us into the image of Christ, and he tailors each person’s transformation process to each person’s character, needs, and deficiencies. We must refute the idea that we can all know and understand the same things about God or that we can control the mystery of the sanctification process. We can’t. So we must strive to fully engage where God is leading us and then depend joyfully on the body of Christ. We can’t know it all and experience it all, but God has given us himself and each other so that we might know the fullness of Christ. It’s not a contest. It’s futile to play the comparison game. God is at work in each of us. Let’s trust him. 

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In His Courts

A couple of weeks ago I had the privilege of teaching a class on Leadership. While it is a subject with which I am fairly comfortable, it was a big challenge for me because all of the teaching was done in French. I prepared for months, had lots of help, and benefitted from much prayer. And (thanks be to God!) in the end I actually had a lot of fun and it seems like the teaching was well received. 

I asked the students to create a Biblical model of leadership
based on the principals that I outlined

This lovely classroom is at a retreat center near Grenoble, where 65 women gathered to begin a two-year training program that is designed to equip and empower them for ministry. The program is called Zoé, and it is a ministry offered by LifeSprings International. Students attend classes just three Saturdays a year over two years, and in between sessions they have homework, coaching, and a minnistry project that they must complete. LifeSprings has been providing this type of training in Europe for several years, but this was the first time that it was being offered in French.

Students hard at work on the their models
while I survey their progress

Women ranged in age from early 20s to mid 60s, each one passionate about the work of Christ and his call on their lives. Most of them work full-time jobs while volunteering in key ministry positions. 

Holding one group's model of leadership
so that a student could present it to the class

I taught the same course to students at a Torchbearer's Bible College that same week. Also in French. And for those of you wondering why Hawkeye Pierce  is peering over my shoulder it is because I used a three-minute clip from the TV series M*A*S*H in my teaching.

In some ways, teaching a class on Leadership is no big deal. In other ways, for me, it was monumental. Because there was a time, not too long ago, when French was such a struggle that I honestly wondered if God would ever use me in this way again. And to tell you truth, I got to the place where it would have been perfectly fine with me if I never got asked to speak again. I used to need to do this stuff to feel validated and important. By stripping me of my gifts for a season, I learned to bask in the unmerited love of the Father. Now when I teach, I am all about Him and the ones I am called to serve, and I'm no longer seeking validation for myself. I used to be building the Kingdom of Jenn. How ashamed I am to say it! Now I'm building the Kingdom of God. Better is one day His courts than thousands eslewhere! 

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Among Us

After being tempted for 40 days in the desert, Jesus began teaching in Synagogues throughout Galilee. And then he went to the synagogue in Naazareth--his hometown.

Jesus stood before the assembly to read. Luke tells us that he was handed the book of Isaiah. Jesus didn't choose the book, but he chose the passage. And he read these words that had been written about him more than 500 years before he graced the earth with his presence:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me,
Because He has anointed Me
To preach the gospel to the poor;
He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to the captives
And recovery of sight to the blind,
To set at liberty those who are oppressed;
19 To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord."

Then he sat down. But all eyes were still on him.

And there, among his people, sitting in their midst, he says, "Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing."

Next, Jesus will tell them some rather shocking news, but he doesn't do it from the pulpit. He doesn't say hard things from a distance, as if to place himself above the crowd. He is Emmanuel, even in this moment. He is God with us.

And so he continues his message, speaking to friends, neighbors, family members, and ancient rabbis who had taught him to read scripture in the first place. I imagine his sincerity, and his sadness. He knows that they are not going to like what he has to say. He anticipates the coming rejection. And yet he speaks the words that will enrage this crowd so severely that they will attempt that very day to throw him off of a cliff. Friends, neighbors, and family members, no less.

Jesus begins to talk about some well-known stories from the Torah. First he reminds them of the great famine during the days of Elijah. He says that while there were plenty of hungry widows in Israel, Elijah was sent to the aid of Zarapeth, who was in Sidon. Then Jesus tells them that in the days of Elisha there were lepers in Israel, but Elisha only healed Naaman, the Syrian."

And for that, they tried to kill him.

It seems to be a rather strong reaction to the retelling of some stories right out of thier own scriptures. But Jesus didn't just tell the stories, he pointed out something significant about those stories. Something that had perhaps gone unnoticed in prior readings. And Jesus' obsevations favored the "outsiders" over the "insiders."

I can't quite come up with a modern day equivalent to what happened, and in many ways it would be wrong to pull this account out of its historical context. But this gist of it is this: Jesus told the religous regulars that God cares about those who are not part of their congregation. He told them that healing and freedom and hope were being poured out on those whom they had scorned and rejected. And the good church people went postal.

I struggle with this story--because I am one of the good church people. I am a Christian "insider." When I read this story, I picture myself sitting on the second pew on the left hand side of the synagogue, feeling smug in my chosen-ness.

I begin to wonder if Jesus has turned his back on his own people, and then I remember that he sitting among them. Counting himself as one of them. One of us.

He isn't drawing dividing lines, he's erasing them. No more were there to be "insiders" and "outsiders." No more us and them.

I think that was his point.

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Partings

David will arrive home at 13h00 tomorrow (and there was great rejoicing!).

Then four and half days later (113 hours, that is) I leave for 15 days (and there was great sadness!).

But while I am away, I will be attending classes at George Fox (rejoicing!), celebrating my Dad's 80th Birthday (rejoicing!), and seeing my first born son (great rejoicing!).

Meanwhile, I will miss Chandler's first round of Parent/Teacher conferences (sadness!).

And so it goes, the crazy, transient missionary life we lead. I live the life of which Dickens wrote in Great Expetations: "Pip, dear old chap, life is made of ever so many partings welded together"

So. Many. Partings.

Some temporary, some seasonal, some indefinite.

What do you do with the partings in your life? Do you resist them? Endure them? Embrace them? 

I can only imagine how the discples felt when Jesus told them that he was going away. I'd have cried like a baby. 

"Going? How can you GO?  We need you here! What will we do without you? Don't you care about us? Won't you miss us? Please. Please don't go."

And he left. With this cryptic promise: I will never leave you nor forsake you.

We know at least two reasons that Jesus left, after having conquered sin and death. He went to prepare a place for us, and he went so that he could send the comforter.

In preparing a place, Jesus says, "I'm going to make you a forever home" and in sending the comforter he says "I'm going to make your heart my home,"  

Jesus leaves to put an end to the leaving. 

And even today, should we be seperated from everyone that we love, he remains. His presence  can be found in every corner of the earth at every hour of the day. He is my constant companion, my faithful friend, 

But beyond that, Jesus, by the gift of his spirit, is the one who welds those partings together. In this, we can hold loosely to the ones that we love, trusting them into the capable care of the one who first loved us.

So I will hug my husband's neck these next four days. I'll gaze into his eyes, and listen to his heart, and hold his beautiful, scruffy face in my hands. Then I'll fly to Portland and eat cake with my Dad and laugh with my sisters and squeeze my oldest boy until my strength gives out. And then I'll fly back to France, and play games with Chandler, and run with friends, and kiss my husband again and again. I'll be wholly wherever I am, knowing that the Holy one is both where I am and where I am not--welding the partings together.

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The Lost Life

I am not a very angry person, or so I thought. But as part of my spiritual formation process, I was doing a personal inventory on my anger. I couldn't really think of anything that makes me mad, so I asked Chandler for help.

"Hey Chan, what makes me angry?" I lobbed the question out there, not expecting much of a reply.

"American Christianity," he answer back, without missing a beat. He didn't even have to think about it. (Aren't kids great!)

Apparently, I have been vocal about some things that bother me--mostly things on Facebook and Twitter. And the passion and frequency with which I express my displeasure has clearly been heard by the other members of my household. I had no idea.

So on this 4th of July, I've been pondering my son's assertion that American Christianity makes me mad. After all, I AM an American Christian. So are all of my family members and many of my best friends. I have benefited from American Christianity, I am sent as a missionary to France by American Christians, and I am financially supported by the same. I am certainly NOT angry at any of those individuals--I am indebted to them.

And as far as cultures go, none are perfect. I'm aware that every country has its own take on the Gospel, and no one has it exactly right. If I single out Americans it's only because that's the culture I know best. I count myself among you. But when living inside of a culture, one often loses the capacity to see the forest for the trees. Living in France has given me some perspective, convicted me, and offered new insights. I guess sometimes those insights make me mad.

What insights? For one, I am disgusted by the constant undercurrent of a prosperity gospel that permeates American Christian literature, Twitter feeds, and Facebook posts.

Because I read a lot, I pay attention to what others are reading and sharing about online. I often pick up books that come highly recommended, only to be outraged by the ideas presented. And I'm not just talking about Joel Osteen and Joyce Meyer here. Do we really, really believe that wealth and comfort = God's blessing? Really? That makes me mad! Do we really think that God wants us to just feel good and be happy and find significance? Do we cling to the hope that if we live mostly good lives God will protect us and provide nice things for us? None of that is scriptural. It's capitalist--and that's not necessarily a bad thing as a economic system, but it's a lousy religion. And a lot of Americans seem to believe they are one in the same.

Honestly friends, God is an extravagant God who does love and bless his children. But those blessings have less to do with houses and cars and vacations and more to do with peace in the face of struggles, joy in the midst of great loss, and hope despite dire circumstances. The Bible clearly teaches a theology of suffering. Now it's not that I want my American brothers and sisters to suffer--that's not it at all. For me, the issue is this--if we spend our lives pursuing ease and comfort and then claiming God has blessed us, I believe we live a lie. Jesus said if you want to save your life, you have to lose it. How dramatically different my Facebook feed would look if people were posting (with joy and smiley faces!) how they "lost their lives" today. Instead, we're awfully busy saving and seizing and decorating our lives, and perhaps we're missing it.

Are you pursuing the American Dream, or are you following hard after Jesus? And if you're tempted to answer "both" I want to challenge you. Because I am more and more convinced that it is not possible to do both. You can't save your life and lose it at the same time.

We've decided to lose our lives, but that isn't to say we do it perfectly. No, I often shrink back. But the truth is--God's dream is way better than the American Dream! When I let go of my rights and my possessions and my time and my comfort I find that He always satisfies. And whatever I leave behind for the sake of the King is shown to be rubbish in light of his glory. But you don't discover that until you stop chasing your dreams and abandon it all for Jesus.

Yes, I'm mad. I'm mad that I bought the lie, went into debt for the lie, and justified the lie. I'm mad that I taught the lie, and pursued the lie, and lived the lie. And getting untangled from the lie is complicated and messy and even painful. It means saying "no" to your kids, not because you can't afford something, but simply because they have enough. It means making healthy choices, not because you want to fit into that bikini, but because you finally realize that you body IS a temple of the Holy Spirit. It means giving generously, not because you think you'll get some heavenly goodies in return, but just because you are overwhelmed with compassion for others. That, my friends, is the lost life. And I'm living it!

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Summer

Summer.

It's finally here.

Photo Credit: Jordan Egli Photography

Ministry has been full this year--for that we are thankful! And we are excited for the road ahead--we have amazing possibilities on the horizon:

• David is in conversation with a business owner who runs an air taxi service in France using US planes--perhaps David will be flying a bit in the coming year!
• I have been accepted to George Fox Seminary to pursue a Masters in Ministry Leadership through their distance ed program. If God supplies the funding, I'll start this fall.
• David is leading a team that will soon launch a website on discipleship for the francophone world--a project that will have impact in France and beyond.
• I am preparing to teach a course on Leadership for women in ministry and have new opportunities to coach emerging French leaders.
• Graham is ready to start college and discover God's plan for his life.
• Chan has one more year of high school; after which he plans to attend medical school in France.

Photo Credit: Jordan Egli Photography

God has done and is doing immeasurably more than all we thought or imagined when  arrived in France four years ago. And while we are eager to keep moving on this path, we know that we need to take some time to pause for reflection, evaluation, and rest.

We were supposed to be on furlough in the States this summer, but due to expenses related to our house in the States (which flooded twice this year, and still is in disrepair and unable to be rented!) AND skyrocketing airfares, we will be unable to make the trip as a family. Still, having removed ourselves from all ministry responsibilities for July and most of August, we are going to do our best to step back and take a break even though we're not leaving home.

We need time to look forward to the opportunities before us.

We need time to support and encourage Graham  as he prepares to launch back to the States and begin college.

We need time to breathe. To sit in silence. To pray.

We need time to celebrate what God is doing in our lives!

We need time to grieve some heavy losses.

We need time to laugh, and play, and sigh.

We need time to explore, dream, and imagine.

I need time to read. Novels. For pleasure.

And so it begins. Today we stop. We still ourselves while the world continues to spin around us. And we wait upon the Lord.

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