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.

Tweet

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. 

Tweet

The Work of the Sabbath

Life is full. I resist using the word "busy" because it has too many negative connotations. I delight in and gladly welcome the wealth of opportunities that are before me at the moment. Yet. Yet, I am at risk of being overtaken, overwhelmed, overcome.

The To-Do list is long and growing while deadlines are fast approaching. I'm beginning to worry that I won't get it all done in time. I'm starting to fear that I won't do it well. And so I woke up this morning tempted to do something that I almost never do: work on my Sabbath.

You see, in crunch time, I start to think that if I put in a few extra hours on my day off, I'll be doing myself a favor. I'll be taking the edge off of the teetering pile of tasks so that life will just be a bit more manageable come tomorrow. After all, who can even relax while being haunted by waiting work?

Some days sabbath is easy--a welcome respite. But some days sabbath is hard. It is an act of outright defiance againt my sin nature--a refusal to believe the lie that my life work is more important than my life.

Sabbath is a brazen act of faith that screams, "NO!" to the spirit of self-importance. Sabbath is a peaceful protest against the tyrrany of the urgent. Sabbath is trust in action through intentional inaction. It is not a luxury for the lazy, but God-ordained time-out for the workaholic.

It goes against every fiber of human reason, stands in opposition to prinicipals of productivity, and defies the laws of time management. But Sabbath is probably the most fruitful weekly endeavor one can pursue.

And so today I will rest.

I will not work on PowerPoint presentations for tomorrow''s sermons in French and in English.

I will not write the final message for my speaking engagement at a retreat next weekend.

I will not download the conference materials for the European Leadership Forum that is just around the corner.

I will not work on the meditations for the Learning Community in the first week of June.

I will not read books for school, or write responses to emails, or compose a newsletter.

I will not bathe the dog or change my sheets, though both have been long neglected.

Instead, I will set all of those things aside, trusting them into the capable hands of a God who never slumbers nor sleeps. I will struggle to rest so that I can endure the rest of the struggle. And by my rest I declare to my soul, "You are NOT in charge! Sit still, be quiet, and breathe. The LORD of the Sabbath is near, behold him, adore him, receive him. There is no greater work than this."

Instead of working on the Sabbath, I will let the Sabbath work on me.

Tweet

A Birthday to Remember

Wednesday was Chandler's 18th Birthday, and I wanted it to be special!

I wanted it to be special because I have such special memories of my own 18th Birthday. When I turned 18 I asked my parents for a new Bible. They took me out to dinner at Benihana's where they presented me with a lovely new Bible. And then they handed me another gift. Much to my surprise, my parents gave me pair of real diamond earrings. I was stunned by the beauty and extravagance of the gift. I still have my diamond earrings and I wear them often. I don't remember many birthdays, but I will always remember that one.

So with Chanlder's 18th Birthday fast approaching, I was eager to figure out how I could make it a day to remember. We had purchased him a nice wallet as a gift and I had planned all of his favorite meals, but it just didn't seem, well, special enough. And with David out of town, I would be the only guest at the party. I just knew it would be a flop. And I was so sad.

At prayer that morning, we prayed that God would especially bless Chandler on his birthday. Still, I didn't know how to make that happen. After prayer a friend asked what we were going to do to celebrate. As 18 is the legal drinking age in France, I mentioned that I was cooking a special dinner and that Chandler has requested a shot of whiskey to celebrate. He had tried whiskey when touring the Jameson Distillery in Ireland a few years ago, and he had taken a liking to it. So my friend suggested that a few of us go out to a local bar and toast Chandler for his 18th Birthday. I was thrilled at the idea, and a plan was set in motion.

At 8:30 pm we gathered at The Caravage. There were ten of us all together, aged 16 to 70. Some brought gifts. All brought love. And Chandler was completely in his element.

The waiter brought the whiskey list, insisting that the Japanese whiskey was the best. Chandler took his advice--and ordered a glass. The smile on his face says it all. We sat outdoors, chatting and sipping drinks until the sun went down. Deeply content, we kissed everyone goodnight, said our farewells, and began to walk back home. And that was when the magic happened.

As we walked over cobblestone streets, we began to see lights floating up into the air. Up in the royal part of the medieval city, hundreds of laterns were being released. As they danced across the velvet sky, Chandler marveled and I held back tears. I had done nothing great to make his birthday special, but God surprised us all with diamonds in the sky.

Tweet

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.

Tweet

Cutting Corners

School officially starts next week for me and Chandler. It starts in three weeks for Graham. And David doesn't start back up until the middle of October. In France, this time of year is called, "La Rentrée" or literally, "The Re-entry” –which makes me think of spaceships suffering enormous stress, violent shaking, and scorching flames upon re-entry into the earth's atmosphere. Yeah, that's pretty much what La Rentrée feels like to me.

As I begin work on my Master’s degree, I will also continue most of my regular (full-time) ministry responsibilities. She who prefers to fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants has just spent two days meticulously entering reading assignments, writing assignments, and test dates into her agenda, not to mention preaching schedules, conference preparations, and meetings with my language helper. Because I had to figure out where it all fit.

But it doesn’t all fit.

During orientation at George Fox, the Dean of the Seminary said, “It’s not a question of whether or not you will have to cut corners. It’s a question of where you will cut corners.”

I’m not really a corner-cutter.

I’m more of a get up early, stay up late, do-whatever-it-takes kind of person.

But you see, if I stick with that plan, the corners that get cut will be cut by default rather than by design. By default, my sleep (and ultimately my health) will get cut. By default, my marriage and friendships will get cut. By default, my relationship with God, my peace, and my joy will get cut. All the things that don’t have a time-slot in my handy-dandy digital agenda will get cut.

In his book, Choosing to Cheat, Andy Stanley makes the same observation that the Dean of my seminary made—that is, that life is so full we are all going to cheat someone or something. For those of us in ministry, it’s especially easy to cheat the wrong things. Because our work has eternal significance, we wrongly give it unregulated space and time in our lives. It’s not that the work isn’t important, it’s that we need to keep it in perspective. God doesn’t call us to neglect our own spiritual formation, our physical health, or the care of our families. Stanley points out that each of us are replaceable within our ministries, but irreplaceable to our families. That is to say, GEM can find another missionary to do my job, but I’m the only wife David has.

And so I need to cut corners by design.

For me, that means stepping away from one of my local ministry responsibilities, delegating some other responsibilities, and setting time limits for my coursework—because when I am reading and writing and studying I can lose all track of time. That means I will do the very best work that I can during the hours that I have scheduled for my classes, and when that time is up, I will simply stop. That might mean I get a B instead of an A.

 

But a B with a happy marriage, a health body, and a thriving soul is better than an A with a strained marriage, a flabby body, and a starving soul. No doubt about it.

Tweet

Plans

Sometimes things just don't go the way we plan.

We planned on taking a furlough this summer, spending two or three months in the States in order to help Graham transition back to life in Spokane. We were anticipating some time with dear friends and family, looking forward for some time away from our work here, hoping to reconnect with churches and supporters wanting to share the great things that God is doing here in France. That was our plan.

But following the double-flood situation and the on-going un-rentablity of our house in States, considering the exorbitant price of airline tickets, and realizing that other obstacles loom in our way, it seems that our plans won't go as planned.

Still, Graham must return. And we refuse to send him alone into the world. So at this point, it looks like Graham and David will travel together to the States in July, while Chandler and I hold down the fort here in Loches. It's not our first choice, but it seems to be our only choice.

Of course, God could make it work out if he wants, and we are open to seeing his mighty hand work a miracle on our behalf. Yet, we are also content to accept the situation--trusting in the One who is sovereign over all our plans. His kindness knows no end.

Tweet

The Void

During a rainstorm a certain 17 year old said, "There's nothing to eat."

So a certain mom, keenly aware that he would too-soon leave the nest, set out to resolve the problem.

And while she stirred, the boy made music. 

And her tears fell like the rain.

How would she ever let him go?

"Slow down!" she cried, wishing time had ears to hear.

But her pleas were pointless.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. 

And in no time at all, warm cookies filled the void in the 17 year old stomach.

But what would fill the void in the mama's heart?

Tweet