Sabbath

During the CRWM training a few weeks ago, we thought a lot about the concept and importance of Sabbath as an intentional "pause" in the week to spiritually reconnect with God.  Generally, for Christians, Sabbath also occurs on Sunday, and communal worship is a key element, along with rest from daily life.

Growing up, I never focused on Sunday as Sabbath.  Instead of seeing the blessing of having a day set apart for God, I spent Sundays looking for loopholes in what I could and could not do.  (Can I ride my bike? How far?  Can I go swimming?  Why not?)  Basically, I was a Pharisee:  the kind of legalistic person who gets in her own way and completely misses the point.  God created the Sabbath as a gift to His people:  something necessary for our spiritual, mental and physical health.

Since the training, I've tried to be even more intentional about taking this weekly pause in the busyness of life. Because reality for me right now is 10,000 move details running through my head at every second, I'm trying really hard to not think about any of these on Sunday.  This, of course, is much easier said than done - particularly when just going to church evokes so much emotion and uncertainty about the future.  I'm really going to miss my church community and my thoughts naturally wander to questions such as "Will we be blessed and be a blessing to another community of believers in Tanzania?" and "What will happen to our home church in NJ while we're gone?"

However, I'm trying to do what they tell you in yoga to still your mind (if you have a thought, just try and acknowledge the thought, release it, and then move on to re-quieting yourself.)

This is the Scripture I'm meditating on today (Matthew 11:28)

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."

I thank God for creating a Sabbath-rest for His people.  And I pray that this Sabbath-rest will re-energize me to engage again with the 10,000 details tomorrow morning.

Strengths and Weaknesses

As we continue to tick down to our move, I've been reflecting more and more (with varying levels of panic), that I am really NOT suited to life in Africa.  The following is just a partial list of the reasons why:

* I'm impatient (with myself and others)
* I'm critical (of myself and others)
* I'm a perfectionist - I don't like to make mistakes and expect myself to "know" everything immediately
* I'm not the happiest in heat and humidity
* Time is important to me
* I don't like large bugs, spiders and snakes
* I'm a worrier - I like to have financial security

In my (many) moments of doubt I wonder how on earth this is going to work.  I feel like some days I can barely keep it together in North American comfort and security, where I feel a high level of competence on a daily basis.

But I am comforted by the words of Paul, found in 2 Corinthians 12:9-10.  The preceding chapter details how Paul has asked over and over and to have the "thorn in his flesh" removed, without success.  It continues:  

"But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."

This sentiment was also seconded by one of the "seasoned" missionaries at our training, Luke De Haan, who said, "My weaknesses have actually become my strengths, and my strengths weaknesses.  I take my strengths for granted, but my weaknesses cause me to go to God in prayer...and He has used them even more than my strengths."

When we feel competent and "together," there's no need to rely on anyone but ourselves.  This is why we are given weaknesses:  "But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us."  (2 Corinthians 4:7).  However, the passage continues in verses 8 and 9 with the promise that "[although] we are hard pressed on every side, [we will not be] crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed."

Will Africa bring me to my knees?  Yes, literally, and also in a posture of prayer. But it's not going to crush me.

While I don't think I'll get to Paul's extreme in actually boasting about my weaknesses or delighting in hardship, I do take heart in the fact that this broken, imperfect jar of clay can still do mighty things when she relies on the power of Christ.  Even in Africa...or especially in Africa.

Living out our story

The following poem/prayer was handed out as part of the spiritual self-care portion of the CRWM training.  I found the concept of God enjoying the unfolding of our stories particularly meaningful.  It's taken from Ted Loder, Guerrillas of Grace:

Keep Me in Touch with My Dreams
O Lord,
in the turbulence
and the loneliness
of my living from day to day
and night to night,
keep me in touch with my roots,
so I will remember where I came from
and with whom;
keep me in touch with my feelings,
so I will be more aware of who I really am
and what it costs;
keep me in touch with my mind
so I will know what I am not
and what that means;
and keep me in touch with my dreams,
so I will grow toward where I want to go
and for whom. 

O Lord,
nurture in me
the song of a lover,
the vision of a poet,
the questions of a child,
the boldness of a prophet,
the courage of a disciple. 

O Lord,
it is said you created people
because you love stories.
Be with me as I live out my story

Where is Home?

Well, we are home from a trip to the midwest, where we went home to visit family, and to be trained for our new home next month.

Home has been an important concept for me, and one I struggle with. As we tell our story of becoming missionaries, it is this search for home that really gets at the heart of the journey.

When people ask me where I am from, I stumble a bit. It's not just because I've lived in seven States. It's because the places I have spent the most time -- the obvious "homes" -- are places I never felt comfortable. "Home is where the heart is" of course is the obvious answer, and my heart was never in Syracuse, NY or northern NJ. But it is something more than that. Because a lot of my heart is in these places...I have many fond memories of Syracuse, and I have been blessed beyond measure in NJ, but they are places I have always held at a distance.

Meanwhile, I have felt a great sense of peace and joy in finding places that I DO belong. It didn't take very long at all for Calvin College to become home after I left "home." Even last week, sitting among friends and family, that same feeling of belonging came right back. West Michigan is one of my "homes" whether I like it or not! Since this true sense of home is rare for me, I am aware of it when it does appear, no matter how strange the place. I am "home" in Epcot down in Disney World, of all places. And I definitely had that feeling on my trip to Uganda this year.

I always hesitate to pull out Jeremiah 29:11, because I've heard it said that the verse is always taken out of context. If I am getting it right, in this passage of Jeremiah, God tells the Israelites that they are going to be taken away from home for a while and put into exile. BUT, while they are in exile, they should settle down, build homes, have kids, and be blessed. They might not be home, but God will bless them anyway.

My pastor did a sermon about this right at the time that I started thinking about moving to Tanzania. For years, I have felt "in exile" in New Jersey. Again, it's not that NJ has been a bad place to live. But we came into it in a bad way.

About 15 years ago, my wife and I had a fun social outing in Grant Park in downtown Chicago with some friends. We had lived in Chicago for about a year, and we had been struggling with this same notion: is Chicago home? Should we go somewhere else? It was actually kind of a magical, moving moment (I mean, I could still find the exact spot where it happened), when we both vocalized that we were finding a home in Chicago, and that we should probably stay there for awhile. We were happy. We both started making plans with our jobs to extend what were year-long assignments. Within a week, life turned upside down. We found out Steph's Dad was seriously sick, and it didn't take long at all to realize God wanted us in New Jersey with the family.

So, to me, New Jersey has been exile. And God did come through with his Jeremiah 29:11 promises. A house! Three amazing kids! A church that loves us and cares for us! I found my calling as a teacher! You couldn't GET much more "I have plans to prosper you" than that. And yet...it's exile, not home. Maybe this sounds selfish and silly. All I can say, though, is that every vacation to Michigan has increased our craving for finding home. Friends (and we do have some dear, dear ones) have been hard to come by. We've felt lonely and frustrated. We wished and prayed New Jersey would turn into home -- it never did.

And so, the search has always continued; the prayers asking God to give us a home have always continued. My pastor's sermon consolidated a lot of these thoughts for me. It made me realize both how blessed I have been, and how it is OK to admit that New Jersey is not home. And it made me start thinking hard about moving out of exile and searching for a new home.

Of course, I don't know if Tanzania is that place. In fact, it almost certainly is NOT. I know that I am destined to always have a longing for a place beyond what I can find on Earth. We were made to be citizens of another Country, and the mortal one will never be fully home. I hope for belonging, and I am reminded of Heidelberg Catechism Q&A 1: "I am not my own, but belong body and soul to my Lord Jesus Christ!"

In the end, I need to continue defining my home with THAT belonging. You don't need to move to Africa to find that. However, as we found out, trying to respond to that belonging just might cause you to anyway!

The Accidental Missionary

During the first day of our training last week, everyone was asked to share a bit about what lead them to become a missionary. For the most part, the others in the room either had grown up as missionary kids, had served abroad previously as a missionary, or had a deep and lasting passion for missions that was kindled in childhood.

No one said, “Well, I never even really thought about missions until a couple of months ago, and I don't even consider myself a missionary. Actually, I don't even feel worthy of the title of missionary” (I didn't even say it in quite that way, although it's true).

I've caught myself defining what we're doing in Tanzania in different ways to different people. To many people, particularly non- or marginal-believers, I've just been saying the short version, “My husband will be teaching computers in an international school.” Sometimes I even eliminate the adjective “Christian” to describe the school. I feel uncomfortable with the idea of being called a missionary:  the idea conceived in my childhood was that missionaries are just a little lower than pastors in the spiritual hierarchy. People in these positions are incredibly wise, with great discernment and are really just two steps removed from God Himself, right? And there's no way I am there.

The truth that I was reminded of this past week is that we are all missionaries. The Great Commission in Matthew 28:18-20 says: 

 “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”

This command to Go and Make Disciples applies to all of us. To be sure, the majority of us have a mission field right where we already live and work, rather than going halfway around the world (though clearly I feel there are those types of calls, too, as we need to reach “all nations”!) However, there are so many opportunities to show the love of Jesus and to share the news of His love everywhere we go, right where we are. The only thing that's changing on August 13 is that I'm moving from the mission field of northern New Jersey to the mission field of Dar es Salaam.

So while I still feel uncomfortable with the title “missionary,” I'm going to make a real effort to describe myself as such in going forward, particularly to non-Christians who wonder what in the world we're doing. That in itself is the first step of going and making disciples.

Prayer

Our 4-day orientation session with Christian Reformed World Missions just wrapped up yesterday.  This week of training included several 12-hour days of sessions and interaction, and so the term information overload is not an exaggeration.  I'm definitely still sifting through and processing all that's happened this week and am incredibly thankful for the opportunity to take a few days of vacation with family.

However, one constant theme from the training was the importance of prayer:  both individual, as part of spiritual self growth and care, and communal, as a vital part of building community.  There was also an emphasis on listening prayer - making prayer a two-way communication instead of a one-way conduit of our needs.

I have tended to view prayer as a "nice idea" in the past, but certainly not like the life-giving, life-sustaining, essential discipline that it is.  I've been mystified by those who can spend hours with the Lord in dialogue and I have marveled at the dear elderly saints who have copious prayer lists.

One reason for this disconnect is probably due to how I'm wired.  During the training, we spent some time analyzing our spiritual type and the temperament of our behavior.  Perhaps not too surprising to some of you, I'm an extreme extrovert and I am also an active person:  I like being busy and get energy from this.  Unfortunately, these two behavioral traits mean that focusing on prayer does not come naturally to me.  First of all, it involves sitting still and quieting your mind.  And secondly, prayer is not something tangible like performing an act of service.  We don't always see "results", and if we do, they generally aren't immediate.

I am now convicted otherwise of the importance of prayer.  One of the most meaningful parts of the week was having people pray for us.  I was also very moved by the leadership and example of our devotional leader.  It's clear that she has such an intimate relationship with God, cultivated by years of communion with Him in prayer.

Although we may be nourished spiritually in a particular way or have a particular combination of gifts, God desires that we spend time with Him.  I also believe that he desires us to have a community of people upholding us in prayer.  So all those prayer letters that have gone out with a check box asking for prayer are meaningful and vital to our ministry.  One missionary has a team of people praying with her on Skype once a week.  How amazing and uplifting for her!

One of my greatest take-aways this week is the importance of maintaining spiritual disciplines, particularly in the new area we're going.  We're not going to have a wonderfully supportive pastor and church, at least initially.  We're going to encounter many marginal Christians.  We need to make sure we're spiritually fed and in this season of busyness and transition, that it doesn't get put at the bottom on the to-do list.

I'm thankful for a fresh start in a new country where I can tailor new spiritual rhythms into my new life and give my prayer life the jump-start that it deserves.

Today's Verse and the Scariness of New Things

I have a Bible app installed on my phone.  Usually it gives me little prompts like "Even 5 minutes a day with the Bible can make a huge difference.  Want to try it now?" and I guiltily hit "Not now" - not because I don't want to, but because it's not convenient at that particular moment.

However, this app has also started giving a verse of the day on the home screen of my phone.  I've been struck recently by how appropriate the verse can be for my life circumstances.  Especially today from Isaiah 48:17-18:

"This is what the LORD says - your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel:
'I am the LORD your God, who teaches you what is best for you, who directs you in the way you should go.  If only you had paid attention to my commands, your peace would have been like a river, your righteousness like the waves of the sea.'"

The past few weeks for me have been tough.  I've been doubting and questioning.  The adrenaline rush of the newness and the adventure has worn off and I'm left with slogging through a myriad of details and a pile of things that are just not working out.

However, the LORD will direct me in the way I should go.  He's led us this far, and He will lead us through the slogging, the tears, the doubts and yes, the adventure of it all.

This was reinforced by a book I just read by Anne Lamott this week:  (Help. Thanks. Wow.)  This was particularly encouraging to read this week as I was lamenting, "WHY didn't we stay with the status quo??  It's so much easier to just stay where you are."

Her take on new things is as follows:

"If we stay where we are, where we're stuck, where we're comfortable and safe, we die there...If you want to know only what you already know, you're dying.  You're saying:  Leave me alone; I don't mind this little rathole.  It's warm and dry.  Really, it's fine.  When nothing new can get it, that's death.  When oxygen ca't find a way in, you die.  But new is scary, and new can be disappointing and confusing - we had this all figured out, and now we don't." (italics mine).

That perfectly sums up the fears of the last week.  I don't have any of this figured out, but that's OK...God teaches me what is best for me.  As long as I pay attention to His commands, I am good to go.  He promises peace like a river.