I remember the ambivalence of sitting on a hard pew in a small country church as a kid. I actually enjoyed some of the hymns and especially enjoyed getting picked to choose a song or two. But there were a few songs that made me want to run from the room screaming. Some of the old timers would pick “All That Thrills My Soul is Jesus” and require us to sing all five stanzas.
Can anything be more boring than 4×4 time pounded out on an upright piano? Even today I have trouble getting past the arrangement to the words of the song. But even then, I really wasn’t all that interested in the words. Girls, gadgets and games had my attention at the time. All that thrilled me had everything to do with what lay outside those four block walls. Sitting in church was nothing more than a mind (and backside) numbing exercise required of me since Dad was the pastor (and no, I don’t think I’m bitter, just candid).
For years I played the game of religion until one day I was caught. Someone called my bluff, suggesting that what lay behind my Bible knowledge and assurance of things therein was nothing more than empty bluster. I fought back. He was wrong. I was sure of it. Until I had a dream that literally unraveled me – but that’s another story.
From that day forward, the journey has been treacherous and difficult at times but rewarding nonetheless. Each season has born the fruit of urgency and desire for greater depths in Him. I still wish someone would come up with a better tune for the words of the song, but I am more able to say today than ever before, “All that thrills my soul is Jesus.”
My prayer for you today is that you find your heart’s true center as you abandon yourself in praise to the Lover of your soul. After all, “The enjoyment of God is the only happiness with which our souls can be satisfied.” (Jonathan Edwards)
I happen upon rare finds now and then in my occasional trips to used bookstores. The following, as best I can tell, is an excerpt from the Apostle Peter’s personal journal. How it came to be in my possession I am not at liberty to discuss. I do hope, however, you find it as compelling and disarming, as have I.
Below, I have included part of the passage in Mark 14 vv. 66-72, which I believe provides the context to which this journal entry refers.
“And after a little while the bystanders were again saying to Peter, “Surely you are one of them, for you are a Galilean too.” But he began to curse and swear, “I do not know this man you are talking about!” And immediately a cock crowed a second time. And Peter remembered how Jesus had made the remark to him, “Before a cock crows twice, you will deny Me three times.” And he began to weep.”
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I was scared. My world had already been turned around with His arrival. “Follow Me!” He had said. So I had. How could I have known what was in store? This…this was unthinkable! He couldn’t die. What about His promises? What about the kingdom? I thought He was Messiah!
Everyone fled. Why shouldn’t they? Romans played for keeps. Me? I wanted to see what would happen. Things weren’t going the way I had hoped. I just needed time to think. But they kept pestering me. It seemed as if all eyes were on me, accusing eyes waiting to turn me in too. I had to disagree with them. What good was I to Jesus if I were under arrest? No, I needed to buy some time…. Then the cock crowed. Three times I had the opportunity to stand by my word–three times I chose not to.
I wept the night away. Fear, shame, guilt, and anguish of soul accompanied me as I wandered into the night. These companions offered no encouragement or restitution, only accusation. Each pointed a long, bony finger in my face, taunting me mercilessly.
“Look what you’ve done now.”
“And you call yourself a disciple.”
“At least fishing is an honest trade.”
Tormenting voices haunted me, leaving no place to hide. Pulling at my hair I screamed to drown them out, yet to no avail. Like a river raging out of control my tears gushed on. Oh God, can I ever be forgiven? What will become of me!
Silence.
Don’t You hear me? Have I been forsaken?
Fear gripped me. As the echo of my voice faded into the distance, I was left to think in silence. Increasing with every heartbeat, terror gripped my throat. What if I have been forsaken? Can I be forgiven?
I began to weep with renewed intensity.
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I doubt there was immediate resolve that night once the well of tears ran dry. How often I, too, wonder where God’s grace ends and punishment begins? “Surely He won’t forgive that!” I suspect and quietly perform penances begging forgiveness. “If He just understood; it was a mistake.” So, I slip into the belief that what I need most is understanding. That, if He only understood why I did something or acted that way He would give me another chance.
I too easily forget that what I need and long for most is forgiveness not understanding. I need a forgiveness that says, ‘No matter what your debt, you are not hated.’ Forgiveness brings me face to face with mercy and grace. Understanding only works to let me get away with more in my heart. A few days after his betrayal, Peter got a good glimpse of this very thing.
“And he said to them, “Do not be amazed; you are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who has been crucified. He has risen; He is not here; behold, here is the place where they laid Him. But go, tell His disciples and Peter also… “(Mark 16:6-7a emphasis mine)
Tags: forgiveness, Peter
I discovered how to use some fun applications on my computer recently and decided to create an “end of the year” video clip for the kids. Christian’s started out as a highlight of his swim meets but as I discovered I did not have enough photos I turned it into a summary of the year. Jille’s video features her favorite song from her favorite Barbie movie (Barbie in the Diamond Castle). She helped me pick out the photos. In my tests I was only able to get the video’s to play in “popup” mode. It could be internet issues here in Thailand but if not, try the popup mode for viewing while I figure out how to do this seamlessly.
Enjoy!
Tags: a look back, kids
My friend, Ellen, has written another provocative post; this time, on exchanging the Thou for an it in worship. She contends that in our attempt to get our theology correct (a right way of thinking about God) we have sacrificed a deeper orthodoxy (a right way of expressing God). Her post echoes some of what I’m reading lately in Eugene Peterson’s “The Jesus Way”. Alarmed by the consumer mentality that has crept into our churches Peterson calls for a complete renovation of our imagination (the way we look at things) in order to extract ourselves from this insidious condition and make our way back to the Jesus way.
I highly recommend both Peterson’s “Jesus Way” and Ellen’s post as food for thought.
Tags: church, spirituality, the way, ways and means
Yesterday, 06 May 2009, GIS held their inter-school swim meet for elementary grades. The cloudy sky made bleacher sitting bearable and a good time was had by all. Included in the normal races were a few relays like ‘the Tee shirt’ race where members of the team had to swim with a Tee shirt, get to the other side, get out of the pool, take off the shirt and get it on their teammate, where they repeated the same. 
Christian was in two relays as anchor (please excuse the proud papa moment here) and while another school took 1st in both heats, Christian pulled his team from third place to second both times. Truly, I wish I could say he is a chip off the old block. Frankly, we are just proud! :)
Worry and caution seem to be the norm of the day. “Will the right man become the next President?” “If the economy goes under, will I have enough to make ends meet?” “As Swine Flu cases spread, should I travel?” “Will I be safe?” “Take action now, Congress is set to make various sexual orientations legally protected!”
It’s getting so I don’t want to scan the news (I know, it’s not like I do it much anyway with so much more interesting things to read out there). Every time I read a headline my heart clinches or I catch my breath. “”We’re doomed! I’m sure of it.”
Even as I listen to leader’s stories something in me yells, “what’s this world coming to?” “This is not how it’s suppose to be!!!”
What if Obama sells us out? What if incest becomes legally protected because Congress refuses to define ‘sexual orientation’? What will the world be like when N. Korea has functional nukes at their disposal? Should Rush be allowed to become the next Republican powerhouse? Are we really calling less than 200 deaths from the swine flu a pandemic?
Fear, anxiety, suspicion and a touch of paranoia haunt us as we drive off to work, spend time with our families and head to the grocery store. Why is that? Really, what’s the worst thing that could happen to us? Our job might not be waiting for us. One of our kids could contract the flu… Stores may be low on supply. Is that the worst that can happen?
What do you fear? What makes you catch your breath when reading the news? 
I dare say, if you can put words to that catch in your throat, you are well on the way to putting words to idols in your heart – the stuff that matters most to you in that moment.
Apparently Isaiah was in a similar situation (see Is. 7-8). Ahaz, king of Judah, discovered a plot against his kingdom by the kings of Israel. God tells Isaiah to let Ahaz know the northern kings don’t stand a chance – “don’t lose heart”, but “if you don’t stand in your faith you will not stand at all”. Ahaz is worried. God encourages him to stand firm in his faith.
Now, here’s the thing that intrigues and encourages me. God says basically the same thing to Isaiah in 8:11-13. In Isaiah’s own words God needed to warn him not to follow the ways of the people. Don’t get caught up in conspiracy theories; don’t be afraid of what frightens them (my paraphrase of the NIV). “The LORD Almighty is the one you are to regard as holy, he is the one you are to fear, he is the one you are to dread…”
Isaiah, caught up in the intrigue of his day, is in danger of getting lost in it all. He is on the verge of losing perspective, of making an idol of second things – of regarding lesser things as ‘holy’.
This reminds me of another story found in Revelation 4. John was just told that all the churches under his charge were in various kinds of trouble. And upon hearing this news, the Messenger calls his attention to something else – a door standing open in heaven, where John sees a throne with someone sitting on it.
The supreme headquarters of the universe has a seat of authority and someone is sitting on it! (see Rev. 4.2ff) Things are not as they seem. Circumstances look grim but that’s not really real. The world is not in chaos. We are not adrift in the hands of world leaders who don’t share our values. The ruler of the Universe is on his throne and if you continue reading the story, it’s very clear He has everything in hand.
We refuse to live in fear at our house. Some days are better than others in that regard. However, we want to face the mess at the foot of the throne. Will you join us?
Tags: fear, spirit of the age, spiritual formation, trust
I just popped over to check out a new post by a new acquaintance. The quotes from a recent lecture he attended caught my attention so I added the link here for your inspection. Note particularly the speaker’s thoughts on transformation - Tall Monastic Guy
Tags: transformation
One of the young lady’s in our house church won a writing contest recently and sent me a copy of one of her poems. I wanted to share it with you as a small glimpse of our world and the life of an MK here. Beneath the surface of this shy young lady beats a heart for the world her Lord created. I think this poem gives you as much a picture of her as it does our fair city.
I hope you enjoy her heart in her words as much as I did.
Ode to Chiang Mai
By: Audrey Smith
It’s a city full of wonder, the place that I call home
Where tuk-tuks drive, tourists arrive, and sturdy elephants roam
This setting’s simply peaceful
The essence of shalom
I love
The blue of the skies
And the green of the hills
The bright warming sun
And the cool breezy chills
I’m in love with this city
And I’ll tell you why
It’s my beautiful city
Chiang Mai
It’s a city full of gladness, in a country full of smiles
To travel there I’d fly the air or drive for many miles
I could go on for hours
Proclaiming all the while
How I love
The sweet grinning people
The joy in their eyes
Their care for each other
Their kind polite ‘wais’
I’m in love with this city
And I’m telling you why
It’s my beautiful city
Chiang Mai
It’s a city full of culture, where diverse backgrounds meet
Where each and every drummer marches to a different beat
And if you come and visit
You may hear me repeat
That I love
The Songkran-ing splashes
The Loi Kratong lights
The Mae Ping in the morning
The markets at night
I’m in love with this city
And I’m telling you why
It’s my beautiful city
Chiang Mai
An oasis of enjoyment, the place where I feel free
The smallest simple pleasures can just fill my heart with glee
Oh, How I wish you’d take the trip
To experience with me
What I love:
The smell of the flowers
The taste of the fruit
Watching the rain fall
As I hear monkeys hoot
I’m in love with this city
And I’ve told you why
It’s my beautiful city, my home
Chiang Mai
Tags: mission life, TCK
I can’t get John’s story of Mary at the tomb out of my head. (Check out John 20:10-17 in the Message) Four times John references her crying. Three times she is given an opportunity to “see”, which is the next key word in this short interchange. Kneeling, she looked and saw two angels. She turns away and saw Jesus but did not recognize Him. When He calls her name she turns to face Him. Now she ‘sees’. Light has dawned.
Pondering Mary’s tears it occurred to me that I’m most self-absorbed when crying. Absorbed with “my loss”, “my struggle” or even “my sin”, I can’t properly ‘see’ what’s really going on around me. I may observe, but I do not perceive. Mary weeping misses what’s going on around her. She looks at two angels but only saw her loss and confusion. “They took my Master, and I don’t know…” Unfazed by this interchange she turns away and sees Jesus standing there. But she did not recognize Him. Still dazed with her grief and confusion, she cannot really see until Jesus speaks her name.
Even though she misses what’s going on around her, with each misperception we begin to understand our Lord’s patience and grace. Two angels were on hand to help her ‘see’. She misses that only to turn and misperceive Jesus standing in the garden. Again, missing that, Jesus speaks her name and now she perceives the truth. He is alive, a risen Savior. Our Lord woos us, presenting so many opportunities for us to ‘see’ Him in our lives, to get past our self-absorption, our hurts, our emptiness, our loss to actually see what He is up to. He calls us out of ourselves into the light of His reality.
Another thing I think worth mentioning is that each encounter is personal at varying levels. Each encounter is gentle and inviting. Men did not usually address women, yet the angels kindly asked her why she was crying. Jesus, standing there, asks her the same question. Then He adds some definition to her tears, “Who are you looking for?” Jesus pushes into her tears and confusion. “Mary, I know why you are crying. Do you? You thought you came here looking for a dead body, not a living, breathing Savior. But I know your heart, I know you long for the reality of my presence… when you ‘see,’ that desire will be realized.” Still she misperceives. “Sir, if you took the body, just tell me where he is and I’ll care for him.” Then Jesus provides the final nudge. He speaks her name, “Mary”. Only then does she turn to face Him. Turning from concern for herself she faces her true desire. And her heart responds. 
So do I. And I suspect, you do too. When light finally dawns penetrating our self-absorptoin through Christ’s patient and gentle wooing, something deep and true responds in worship. We can’t help it. It’s the most natural response.
Mary’s story is a bit like mine. Muddled by my pre-occupation with all that seems necessary and urgent I often miss the obvious – He is risen. That’s why Mary’s story gives me hope. Seeing is possible. And more importantly, Jesus continually give me opportunities to do so.
Tags: hope, reality, resurrection, seeing
The following article came across my desk sometime while I was away. So many times upon our return to the US I found myself ‘frozen’ in a decision-simple decisions like, what size diaper to purchase for Jille or even a flavor of gum. On one such occasion I began to cry as I could not get my brain to work. A lady standing next to me muttered something like, “get a life man”. I just ran out of the store too overwhelmed to make a decision.
Next time you host a returning “M”, I hope this article helps guide your conversation and care.
Cheers!
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“Reverse Culture Shock – When the Familiar is Frightening”
“I can’t decide!” That was my cry every time I tried to buy cold cereal after returning to the States. In our African posting, there were seldom any cereals available at our small grocery. Early years in Asia were not much better, but at least we could get a couple different kinds. With few choices
for several years, this dazzling array was overwhelming: sweetened, unsweetened, oats, rice, corn, or wheat, in a box or bag, plain, with or without fruit or nuts. “It’s too much!” I lamented. The cereal section was a whole aisle long, top to bottom.
One friend we visited on furlough asked me to help her make spaghetti. “Takes about 30 minutes,” she said. “Not where I came from,” I thought. It couldn’t be done. I envisioned thawing the meat as I cooked it, while cutting garlic, onions, and tomatoes to be sautéed. It would take almost
half an hour to get the noodles cooked and we’d still have salad and garlic bread to make. She asked me to prepare the salad while she popped the meat in the microwave to thaw and cook, opened a can of sauce to warm in a pot, and buttered the bread with garlic butter from the refrigerator! We only had to set the table while the noodles cooked. No meal could be made that quickly with ingredients available overseas. I encountered these differences again and again. This was my home country, for crying out loud. Why did I feel so uneasy with the ease?
I sat in a ladies’ meeting, sheepishly quiet while those wonderful sisters talked about fashion. Fashion, PW! When was the last time you had tea and talked about fashion? You’re more likely to have tea and discuss the latest case of diarrhea. I was uncomfortable, like a waif at the Ritz. Sitting in a ladies meeting and listening to conversations about what was the “in” color for the year and what style clothes to buy made me very uncomfortable. I was just thankful for the pretty “new-to-me” clothes that I had received when I returned, and the sales at Wal-Mart. I just couldn’t relate to my friends’ wish lists. Not that I envied them. I just could not relate.
Although many people in her home congregation knew the recently returned PW, no one approached her. Week after week she felt alone. Then she tried an experiment. She went early one Sunday and stood in the foyer smiling at every person as they entered the building. Surprisingly, most seemed embarrassed and turned away from her. A few smiled back, but not one spoke
to her. Extreme, I am sure, but perhaps not as uncommon as we might think. Many returned PWs feel it is very hard to become a part of a congregation at home, even when they take the lead.
The Kids Feel It Too
Children who have been born and raised overseas suffer culture shock when they return to their passport country. The only culture they have known is about 10 million miles away from what they are supposed to call home.
We feel excited to return to our home country, but they know nothing of what they will face “back home.” Suddenly they must wear shoes and heavy clothes and the very air bites their noses with cold. They see the frowns and snickers when they eat peas with their fingers or slurp soup loudly or want rice at every meal. They know they aren’t pleasing the same relatives that they have been told could hardly wait to meet them. It is not uncommon for these children to either throw temper tantrums or withdraw into a sullen, silent shell.
Older children who remember their home culture may be very excited as they look forward to meeting their friends again. However, they will feel reverse culture shock when they don’t know the current slang or understand the references to TV shows or movies they missed while overseas. Today, with all the means of communication available to us (Can I hear a loud Amen! For Skype and Google and Vonage?) it is better, thank God. But the place that is supposed to feel like home can still feel pretty weird.
Good Transitions Begin Before the Plane Takes Off
There are some things you can do as a family to prepare yourself and your children for returning to your passport country. Here are some ideas:
o Make a scrapbook or photo album of the area you will return to. Include pictures of relatives the children will meet, people you may stay with, and, if possible, the house or apartment you will live in. Add pictures of animals they will see and other familiar sights from your home country. Take
time to pour over the book and explain things that work differently from their overseas home.
o Practice eating the way they do at home, wherever that is. Our youngest son was absolutely clueless about how to hold a knife and fork the American way. Now he’s 31 and still doesn’t get it, but doesn’t really care, either. Now there is no one to please; no one who could decide to withdraw their support. We could have helped more. I hope you do.
o Prepare your friends and family about jet lag, climate changes, and foods that will be unfamiliar to your children. Ask them to let the children warm up to them gradually instead of grabbing and hugging them right away. If some of the folks back home know what to expect from your children, they can help others understand and give them time to adjust.
o When back home, make a game of discovering differences and similarities to life overseas. Recognizing the differences and similarities validates your feelings about this strange life PWs and their children lead.
o Asking questions instead of assuming you know is a good way to save embarrassment as you adjust to life back home.
o “A merry heart does good like a medicine.” Let your sense of humor soothe frayed nerves, and don’t forget to laugh.
o Finally, remember that the One who sent you out is the One who is bringing you home. Knowing that is a great comfort, and may save your sanity. God is watching over every part of our journey.
Reverse Culture Shock can be an opportunity to share your world view with others. Not everyone back home wants to know about your life overseas, but some do. Sharing culture shock experiences provides a chance to impart some of your enthusiasm about your “other” life. My friends know I live two lives and ask about how the changes affect me. They use what I say to be more accurate in their requests of our Father. Don’t let reverse culture shock get you down, share your experiences.
Tags: culture shock, missions, stress
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