How God Rescued My Family

Last week I told you how we have been ruined--how God has so challenged and changed us that we will never, ever, be the same. Much of the ruining came through struggle, and I mentioned that we have wounds that may never heal. This statement was shocking to some, yet, I do not see it as entirely negative. Even the resurrected Christ, though fully alive, still bore scars on his hands and his side. To be ruined is to be just a little bit more like Jesus, and as one of my favorite cousins remarked, "I pray that I be ruined for Christ also. Nothing else satisfies." Indeed. Nothing else. 

But in many ways, ruining us was also a way of rescuing us. He has not rescued us from embarrassment or sickness or financial ruin. All of those he has allowed us to bear to some extent. Instead he has rescued us from complacency, from superficiality, and from autonomy. He has rescued us from the rat race, from keeping up with the Joneses, and from envy. He has rescued us from ourselves. And he keeps on rescuing us as we follow him each day.

This rescue has little to do with moving to France, though that happened to be part of the rescue mission that God used in our lives. God’s rescue has much to do with surrender, and being willing to leave those things in life that appear to be friendly but in reality, are hostile. Hostile to God’s kingdom, hostile to God’s people, and hostile to God’s plan. They’re subtle little buggers, and probably take a different form for each person, but I’m sure they exist in your life, too.

How can you tell if you have dangerous liaisons? Do you hold anything back from God? If you do, that thing has a hold on you and you need to be freed from it. Do you cherish self-righteousness or indignation? I know I do. But God is showing me that these emotional pacifiers are wicked cancers from which I need to be rescued. Do you live like a Lone Ranger, taking care of yourself and proud of it?  This type of independence is at odds with God’s call to interdependence. You need a rescue.

I loved my autonomy, until God rescued me by placing me in a community. I was driven to achieve personal success, until God showed me that building his kingdom was much more enjoyable than building my kingdom. I was firm in my understanding of things like politics and economics, until God rescued me from my own world-view to show me his world-view. Now I’m more confused than ever about how to vote, but more sure than ever about how to live.

God rescues us because we can’t rescue ourselves. But his way of rescue rarely looks like the primrose path. The way out of our own lost-ness is often a way that is fraught with thorns and mud puddles. The rescue wagon appears unsafe, and many will call you crazy for getting on board. But in the upside-down kingdom of the servant king, I promise that his rescue is worth it. 

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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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Where were we?

Well, now, where were we?

It's been over a month since my last post, and I hadn't intended to take a break at all! But somehow I lost touch these past few weeks, flitting across the globe. I hardly know where to begin to catch you up.

The truth is, I've had one of those months where mission and ministry took over, and in the midst of all that super spiritual work I lost my spiritual center. No, I'm not talking about a crisis of belief; but rather, a crisis of connection. How easy it is to get get swept up in the activity and lose the very reason for it all.

I was not any busier on the road than I am here at home, but I was out of my context and consequently I lost touch with my rhythms: Rhythms of prayer...rhythms of rest...rhythms of reading the Bible...rhythms of silence...rhythms of running. There is no excuse for not taking my rhythms with me, no excuse for being overtaken by the business of Christian work. It just happened.

I'd like to say that now that I'm home, I can pick right up where I left off. Sadly, it doesn't work that way. Sure, the Lord is gracious and ready to speak to me in prayer, but I have lost my stamina. I can head out to the track, but the miles won't come easily anymore. I'll have lost my capacity to go the distance.

But that doesn't mean I won't start again.

The good news of the Christian life is that we can always start again. And the rhythms will work their way back into my regime, calling me out, taking me further, renewing my strength for the journey.

Until then, I'll be limping along, relearning the basics. I'm not too proud to go back to the beginning, even if it is tempting to put on my good missionary face and act like everything's fine. I'm grateful to be reminded how easy it is to fall away and how difficult it is to start again. Next time, perhaps I'll pack more wisely. Next time, I'll plan to take my rhythms on the road with me.

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A Birthday Walk

Yesterday was my 44th birthday.

As I headed toward the track for my scheduled run, I found myself moved to take a detour. I turned toward Les Prairies du Roy, a nice big field with  a walking path through it. I didn't have a plan or an agenda, yet; I felt inclined to slow down, breath deeply, and listen.

The sun was shining, a rare sight in Loches in February. A gift.

Lifting my eyes up to the deep blue sky, I asked the Lord to join me on my walk. I knew, of course, that he was already there. What I really sought was a greater awareness of his presence--remembering how he used to take walks through Eden with Adam and Eve.

There was no glowing aura, no thundering voice, no rustling leaves. But somehow I knew he was near. And we walked.

I went automatically towards a known path, but quickly discovered that it was flooded. The impasse meant either the end of my walk, or a need to find another way. My eyes moved to different path. One I had often noticed but never taken.

A new year, a new path.

The road less taken was uneven and rocky. It meandered seemingly meaninglessly, turning when straight seemed possible. I was forced to slow my pace again to avoid tripping or twisting an ankle. I felt like a pioneer, urged on by the thrill of discovery. But safe because I knew my travel companion had not abandoned me.

Just when I began to think that the path I was on was no path at all, I saw a carefully placed bench. A place for rest and reflexion there on the rocky road. I didn't sit, I was on a quest. Yet I was somehow reassured by the bench. As if its presence validated my route.

While God didn't speak words to me on our walk, he spoke gently through the walk. As David and I seek his plan for our future, we somtimes come up against impasses. The way is blocked. The door is closed. But the journey is not over.

As way opens in another direction, it may not be smooth sailing. The path may be uneven and rocky, but that doesn't mean it isn't the right path. And so I'm learning to rest in the meandering rhythms of grace. Delighting in the journey rather than obsessing about the destination.

Trusting the silent guide who never leaves my side.

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The Apostolic Church

At the beginning of each year we do a sermon series on the characteristics of the church. This year we based our series on the four marks of the church that are found in the Nicene Creed. The Nicene Creed was written and adapted in the 4th century, and stands still today as a statement of faith that is affirmed by most Christian denominations. Towards the end of the creed are the words that describe what have become known as the marks of the church. It reads, "We believe in one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church."

Having just written a paper on the four marks of the church for my class on Ecclesiology, I was excited to turn my newly gained intellectual knowledge into a sermon that would be accessible for the members of our church, aged 5 to 75. I was given the task of preaching on the apostolic church.

Do most people know that the church is called to be apostolic? Do you know what it means?  And perhaps most importantly, would you say that your church IS apostolic?

Of course there is a great deal of discussion around what it means for a church to be apostolic. For Roman Catholics, the idea of apostolicity pertains to the direct passing of authority over the church from Jesus to Peter right down to the current Pope François. The apostolic succession is of upmost important.

Not surprisingly, we Protestants have a different take. Rather than linking the idea of apostolic directly to the apostles, we link the idea to the function of the apostles. Apostle literally means "one who was sent." Jesus was the first apostle, sent by the Father. Then, after his resurrection, Jesus said to his apostles, "As the Father sent me, so I am sending you." So with this understanding, if the church is to be apostolic, then the church is to be sent.

But it doesn't seem to play out that way. Even the vocabulary that we use around a church renders it rather stationary. We PLANT a church, or BUILD a church. We identify a church by its address. We think of church in terms of a location, rather than in terms of a movement. But we, the people of Jesus Christ, are not called to simply invite others into our midst, we are called to go out into the world with the Good News. This is not just the work of a few missionaries. This is the work to which the whole body of Christ is called. We are the sent ones. We--the whole church!

How is your church doing at being "sent?" Do you spend your time trying to figure out how to get people to come through your doors? Or are you more interested in figuring out how to move your members out of your doors? Is your Sunday morning worship service the hub around which the life of the church turns, or is it just one small slice of pie? Do you expect your members to spend their free time inside the walls of the church attending programs for the benefit of those who already know the Good News? Or do you expect your members to spend their free time out in the world, sharing the Good News in word and deed? Do you know people in your community who still need to hear the Good News? Are you investing in your neighborhood in ways that speak of that Good News? Are you content to just go to church on Sunday, or are you intentional about being the church Monday through Saturday?

People! Jesus was sent to earth with the best news that the world has ever heard! There is hope for the broken hearted, freedom for those who are captive to their sin, and release for those who live under the oppression of the king of this world. SIGHT! Though born into the blindness of a fallen world, we can now see things as they really are, without the clouds of confusion and despair. Jesus came to set things right. He has entrusted the church with these profound truths, we must, we MUST take them to the world.

Church, are you stationary or are you sent?

As the Father sent me, I also send you (plural). John 20:21

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Ten Totally Trivial Tidbits

1. We watched the Super Bowl live on Sunday. Well, actually it was Monday here in France. It started at 12:30 am and ended at 4:30 am. And while we were sad by the outcome, truly, it was a game well played. Yes, I'll admit it. American Football is one thing that I still miss from the States. Katie Perry I could do without..., but those dancing beach balls were pretty cute.
2. Chandler had his first major exam for his French Bac today. The subject? It was his oral comprehension exam for English. Before you roll your eyes and say, "Well THAT couldn't have been too difficult!" let me tell you how the test goes down. The students have to listen to something like a news broadcast in English, and then they have to write a summary about it IN FRENCH. So while it was testing the English comprehension skills of most of Chandler's classmates, it was actually a written FRENCH test as far as Chandler was concerned. Still, I'm betting he did just fine!
3.  Our plans for next year are still up the air. We are looking at a couple of different options, but nothing has been decided for sure. Will you please pray for us as we try to discern where the Lord is leading us to go? We will be in France for sure, we just don't know which city!
4. We are still having weekly adventures in cheese. This week we tried a creamy little delight that was covered in bright orange mold. It was DE-Lish! 
5. Speaking of cheese, the cheese lady at market has an unabashed crush on my dear husband. She calls him by name and always engages him in conversation, while batting her eyelashes. When I go to market she barely acknowledges my existence. This week, we went to market together. After overtly flirting with David, she said to me, "Hi to you, David's wife. I don't know your name." And then she turned away, making it clear that she didn't need to know me by any name other than "David's wife." To which I would reply, "Yeah! And don't you forget it!"
6. David has an unabashed crush on me.
7.  I am struck anew by the unabashed love of a savior who was crushed for my iniquities. I have recently become aware of a core sin in my life, one that has skewed many of my motivations and authored many of my desires. When I see how such a sin can permeate so many aspects of my life, wounding me and causing wounds on those around me, I am overwhelmed by my need for redemption. In the wake of this realization I had the pleasure of singing the age old hymn, It Is Well. The third verse brought grateful tears of joy to my eyes. I weep even as I type the words here:  My sin—oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!—My sin, not in part but the whole, Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more, Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
8. Self-awareness is hard. 
9. After carrying the same purse every day of the past 5 years, I have asked David for a new purse for my birthday. I'm going from basic black to hot pink. As if my life weren't exciting enough already!
10. I am reading some amazing books in my seminary classes! My favorites so far are The Social World of Ancient Israel, A General Theory of Love, and A Guidebook to Prayer.

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