Gorillas, Social Media, and Personal Responsibility

I’ll be the first to admit that I would much rather find someone to blame than take personal responsibility. Maybe I’m part of the “entitled” generation, maybe I grew up around too many lawyers, or maybe it’s facebook, but even in there, I tried to place the blame for my attitude on anything but myself and my character.

The interwebs blew up yesterday with the news of the endangered gorilla who had to be shot to protect the safety of a small boy who made his way into the enclosure. And I was sad. A lot of people are sad. But a lot of people (who were in no way involved) are also downright angry. I got lost in a couple comment feeds…

“Blame the mother!”

“make the parents pay!”

“it’s the zoo’s fault”

“negligence on all parts”

“Why didn’t they _____?!”

And then I was more sad. Sad because we aren’t capable of just being sad in a set of crummy circumstances. We have to point fingers. We have to place blame. We have to find justice (and of course, our idea of justice is obviously ideal and fair).

I get it. When we realized we have major water damage in the flooring of one of our rooms, I immediately tried to place blame. I wanted it to be someone’s fault. I wanted someone else to have to pay. It’s only fair. I shouldn’t be responsible to fix my own home. The inspector should pay. The previous owners should have known.

Spill your hot coffee? Sue the restaurant. Trip and fall? Whose sidewalk was it? Lost your job? Clearly, your boss was out to get you (been there too).

I pondered this today, though, on this day we celebrate and remember all those who have given their lives for our freedom. These men and women fought for something greater than themselves, and outside their realm of personal responsibility. Imagine if they had just sat back and whined about all the injustices, or even sat on the front lines tweeting their “how could yous?!”.

Imagine if police officers ignored offenses, or even just pointed fingers at perpetrators, instead of actually serving justice.

We can sit around when our house is on fire and question who is to blame, but there are firefighters who are going to fight to put the fire out and make sure we’re safe.

The American soldier isn’t sitting back and questioning and placing blame and telling someone else to do something about it. They’re standing on the front lines, willing to die to defend our freedoms – freedom to speak up, freedom to vote, freedom to whine on social media (though I somehow doubt that was why so many of our ancestors stood so proudly for our country).

There are definitely injustices in this world. There are sad things with no one in particular to blame (though we feel better when we can point fingers). And sometimes there is even someone to blame. But sometimes we’re the ones to blame. I know I am. 

Imagine, perhaps, a world where everyone took personal responsibility. We own up to our own faults and build our own character. Once we’ve worked on that, perhaps we step up for something beyond ourselves. We take ourselves out of the center of the universe, and start loving, serving, giving of ourselves for someone else’s good.

Perhaps then, we might truly appreciate and honor the American soldier.

Even more, we might understand and worship Jesus. Let’s face it, often times we are the ones to blame. We’re the ones who told the lie, shared the gossip, acted impurely, judged someone unfairly, and worshipped ourselves and our self-proclaimed, self-righteousness over the One True God.

Jesus lived a perfect life. He never sinned. He could have easily sat in a little bubble of self-righteous indignation at the world around him. But instead, he had compassion. He was saddened by our helplessness and sin, and he did something about the injustices he saw. He did something on our behalf. Not because we deserved it – no, we deserved death and eternal separation from God. He did it to give us freedom. He paid our penalty by dying on the cross, so that we might be viewed as righteous, and have freedom from the bondage of sin and death.

What does this have to do with a gorilla? Not a lot, other than perhaps a call to just allow the sadness to be just that. We live in a fallen world where sad things happen. Injust and awful things sometimes. Stop pointing fingers and realize that sometimes people are doing the best they can. And sometimes they’re not. And without Jesus, even our best will always fall short.

So celebrate those who serve for the greater good. Thank those who put your life and your needs ahead of their own. When there are real injustices, fight against them in actions, rather than just worlds on a screen. Look at the needs around you and consider serving or helping instead of just crying injustice at the unfortunate circumstances.

Thank a soldier.

Thank Jesus. For only his death could bring us the ultimate freedom. Then tell someone about Him - that's the greatest good you can do for someone.

And stay off of those comment feeds. They’ll suck the joy right out of you.

For we know him who said, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay.” And again, “The Lord will judge his people.” 31 It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God. – Hebrews 10:30

What happens when you wait on God....

So since the Wesslers are all about candid honesty today, I thought it only appropriate to give an update on how it's been coming back. I mean, how it's really been.

Before I do that, I'm going to add to Luke's list of things missionaries won't tell you but we'll tell you anyway. We are not superheroes.  We hosted a team last year that likened our missionaries to members of The Avengers. It was encouraging (humbling), but the only superhero talent I possess is knowing exactly what size tupperware I need for the amount of leftovers we have. (Ask my husband - I'm a champ). We are not more righteous or holy than you. We do not have an amazing channel to God that enables us to know exactly His will in every situation and He hasn't spoken to us through any burning bushes (yet?). We even go through times when we feel He isn't hearing our cries. Seriously.  *cue current favorite song* In fact, I think it's knowing our own brokenness and sin and desperate need for Jesus that makes us passionate about sharing who He is and what He did with the world (and we don't even do that very well sometimes). We're not here because we're awesome. We're here because He's awesome, and willing to use us despite our propensity to pretend we're superheroes and try to do things in our strength and end up walking straight into a wall of kryptonite.

Now that I've put that out there, I'll share a bit of the nitty gritty. As we were preparing to come back, we shared our concerns regarding Michael's health. In my mind, the only reason we wouldn't return is if we didn't feel it was safe for him. Personally, I felt a bit like Abraham. We prayed and prayed and prayed for a child, and who were we to tell God we wouldn't continue His work because we were afraid He couldn't handle Michael's health needs. I never considered that His work for us might not be Sports Friends. Might not be Zambia. Might not be international missions (don't freak out - just keep reading...). So when all the lights flashed green for Michael to come, I started packing bags and booking tickets.

If you know me, you know I'm a bit impulsive and headstrong. I was ready to come back and didn't consider asking Luke how he really felt. In all honesty, we left our first term absolutely burnt out. Exhausted. Hurt. In hindsight, most of my struggle fell around two things - bitterness and unforgiveness with particular individuals (that has since been resolved), and our struggle to conceive (also resolved, obviously). So as I experienced that healing, along with awesome encouragement from a conference last summer, I felt my cup starting to refill. Apparently, Luke was still running on empty. But once I get an idea in my head (the idea that all was well and we were coming "home" to Zambia), there's usually no telling me otherwise.

Fast forward to April, and we arrived back to a lot of work to be done on our house and only a handful of our churches using their training to impact their communities, and it was hard. As I wrote about in my recent blog, I know my calling right now is to support my husband in his calling and care for our family. But when I saw my normally passionate husband in a lonely, depressed schlump, I literally told him, "I'm not convinced this is still your call."

Ouch.

He'd been wondering the same. But I just put it out there and opened the scary, ugly door. Talk about crying out to God.

Over the next several weeks, we cried out. We prayed. We emailed a handful of people that we knew would give us honest responses and prompt critical questions. We considered the options. We asked ourselves and God those critical questions, and even sat down with some of our Zambian brothers and asked the same things. Does Zambia need Sports Friends? Does it need missionaries at all? What is the biggest need of the church here? What is the goal? Are we equipped and called to help meet those needs? And we waited.

Now before you freak out (or jump for joy (sorry Mom)), we're not leaving. At least not now. Had to put that out there before going any further. All that praying, questioning, refocusing... allowed us to do just that - refocus. One night while we were both waiting for responses from some trusted friends, God gave us each, separately, the same new vision for the ministry (still no burning bush, but it was clear nonetheless). I won't go into all the details, as this is already looking more like a book than a blog, but basically, we both woke up knowing that, yes, we're supposed to be here, and exactly how to move forward with Sports Friends in a way that will help to meet discipleship needs of the churches with whom we work and prepare future leaders for service and mission. We'll hash that out more in future letters/posts.

Some might say we wasted our first two months here, dragging our feet to get going. But sometimes in ministry (especially when "reporting" all of "our success" to supporters back home), I think there is a risk of moving forward in the ways we know or want to do things instead of waiting on God. Those weeks of waiting were hard (did I say I'm impulsive?). Really hard. But I wouldn't trade them in. Why? Because we now feel we are moving forward the way He has shown us rather than just doing ministry for the sake of ministry. Because it's His mission, not ours. And because, sometimes, He's doing a mighty work in us while we wait. *cue second song*

Moses spent 40 years in the wilderness before leading the Israelites out of Egypt. Jesus spent 40 days in the desert before starting his earthly ministry. Paul is said to have spent three years in Arabia and Damascus before starting his missionary journeys in Acts 13. So yeah, maybe we needed some extra time on the front end here. But now we're ready. And we can't wait to see how He uses us in this chapter of His story.

Broken and Poured Out

This may come as a shock, but there have been times that we haven’t wanted to go back to Zambia. Don’t get me wrong – we love Zambia.  We love the Zambian people, we love the ministry, and we love life there. But over the last several months, we’ve questioned whether or not we are supposed to return.

You see, we’re exhausted. Life in the mission field is so awesome, but it’s exhausting. Serving God in this capacity, even when you know it’s where He wants you to be, can take every last drop of energy and strength out of you.

I’ve been at the Women of Faith conference here in Peoria these last few days, and hearing one of the speakers today, I knew we’d be going back.

She first spoke of John 14:12, where Jesus says that those who believe in Him will do even greater works than He. Greater not in the worldly sense of powerful and spectacular, but greatness how Jesus often refers to greatness – humble, quiet service.  So hold onto that: if we believe in Him, we can serve/love/live in greatness.

Now jumping to a passage that we often overlook unless we’re simply reciting it as we go to take communion… Luke 22:14-20

At a moment in which Jesus is redefining the centuries-old ritual of Passover, He not only serves the meal, but He becomes the meal.  He basically tells the disciples that the offering that is the Passover meal – that he was becoming the content of that offering.  And then he says, “do this, in remembrance of me.”

I, like many people, would have thought that “doing this” was simply taking communion, in memory and celebration of Jesus’ sacrifice as the Passover lamb. But breaking it down to the original Hebrew (in her words, not my study), the “Do” means make, but in a present habitual term – continuously make. Make what?  The remembrance, which basically means, “make real.”  Jesus was telling His disciples to constantly make this – this idea of being a living sacrifice for others – real.  He was providing a model for living and discipleship.

We, as Jesus’ disciples and followers, are to be a broken and poured out living sacrifice for the healing and restoration of others.  We should live out His sacrifice and be the eucharist in our daily lives.  We are part of the body of Christ, pouring out our spiritual power.  Sometimes we’re the ones pouring out - the broken bread, and sometimes we’re the ones being nourished.

I think of the story in Mark 5:25-30 where the woman who had been bleeding for twelve years touched the hem of Jesus’ garment, in a last desperate – faithful –attempt at cleansing and healing.  And she was made well.  In verse 30, though, we see the effect on Jesus: “And Jesus, perceiving in himself that power had gone out from him, immediately turned about in the crowd and said, ‘Who touched my garments?’”

Jesus, fully God and fully man, felt the power go out of Himself. When we start feeling the power going out of ourselves, we know that others are receiving life.  We know we are the bread when we start breaking for others’ hearts.  And if we’re not being poured out – if we’re not breaking for others – maybe we’re not doing what Jesus called His disciples to do the night of the Passover.  Maybe it’s time to be the bread, broken for others.

Thinking about our lives in Zambia, I realized something.  We didn’t come home empty and dried out and broken because of the things we whine about:  power outages and water shortages and long lines and mission politics.  We were empty because we were being poured out for others.  We were being broken again and again and somewhere along the line should have stopped and found a way to be on the receiving end of that – to go to a quiet place away from the crowds to rest and hear from God.  To recognize the brokenness of our Savior and the strength He gives us to carry on. But because we started to try to nurture the brokenness with our own strength, the little petty concerns just piled on top of it all and we ran out of fuel (which is part of the reason for this time in the States - to be on the receiving end of that bread from the broken pouring out of others - to refuel - and we praise God for pastors and teachers who are willing to give of themselves in this way).

So when we think about going back, we know it won’t be easy.  We know we will be broken and poured out in ways that bring such joy and heartache that we can’t imagine it now.  We know people there are people who are broken and lonely and lost and don’t know the Savior who is the bread and the life, and we know that it may break us a bit to be that to them.  And when the power goes out and we can’t take a hot shower in the midst of that brokenness; when we’re feeling alone and heartbroken and weighted down with heaviness for the pain we see around us; when we’re desperate to give up and just serve people who are easy to serve and safe and blessed (when it wouldn’t take everything out of us because we wouldn’t actually have to give much); we remember Jesus and His brokenness.

As one of the women tonight described Jesus’ death on the cross, she said she’s tempted to be depressed and sullen and sad when she thinks of Jesus’ death, but knows that sacrifice was actually His finest hour.  He was broken and poured out so that we may have forgiveness from sin, fellowship with the Father, and eternal, abundant lives, doing as He did, and doing “greater works than these.”

The popular worship song says, “I’ll never know how much it cost, to see my sin upon that cross…”

He was poured out and broken for me in ways I’ll never understand fully.  If we have to miss a few showers or leave our family and friends again or move houses or occasionally experience discomfort, sadness, or heartache… who are we to turn away and keep the Good News and these acts of greatness to ourselves?  He died for me.  He died for you.  And He died for each of the people we serve.  May we be the bread, and when needed, be broken for others.

Thank you Jen Hatmaker for sharing your message today. 

Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in his wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of his glory and grace.

This morning we had the privilege of hosting the Kansanshi Fellowship in our home. This is a group of expatriate miners and a few others from around the world who started a small church group here in Solwezi because they didn’t feel comfortable or worship in the local Zambian churches as they were used to doing in their home countries. Actually, as August is a school holiday and many of the miners are on vacations or visiting family in South Africa or elsewhere, we’re hosting several weeks in a row.

Anyhow, the topic Luke led us through today was sin as a habit/lifestyle versus sin as an isolated event, looking at how everyone is a sinner from conception – from the disobedience of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden and from which the separation of mankind from God resulted, we are in our nature sinners. Through the blood of Christ on the cross, who was born of woman but conceived by the Holy Spirit, believers in Him are reconciled to God and freed from the power of sin. God views us as righteous, despite incidents of sin that occur after we put our trust in Him. While we are viewed as righteous, we still have to account for our sinful choices. Just as children whose parents will love them and forgive them when they do wrong but are proud of them when they do well, we know our Heavenly Father forgives and loves us when we slip, but we seek to do right for the honor it brings Him.

All that to say, that’s not what this post is about, really.... As we discussed the fact that we all still fall to temptation and make mistakes, one of the men said that sometimes he thinks we’re too focused on the sin and not on our righteousness. Before you say, “wow, he’s full of himself” or “missed the point of Christ on the cross,” think about it. He has a very, very good point. We’ve been freed from sin and its power – so why dwell on it? If we dwell on our sin, we tend to live in shame, guilt, and often a terrible cycle of: sinful action – guilt – distancing ourselves from God (how could He love us when we disappoint Him so?) – and sinful action again. It’s like when someone is on a diet and spends the whole time thinking, “I can’t eat candy bars.” If you’re constantly thinking about how you can’t do it, you’re constantly thinking about it.

If instead, we place in our minds something completely different rather than focusing on what we shouldn’t do, there’s no room for those temptations to even creep in. Our friend wasn’t saying we are righteous in that we don’t need a savior, but if we view ourselves in the righteousness we have because of Christ, it is easier to get out of the cycle of shame and focus on Him and His holiness as a guide for our own lives.

So thinking about all of that and how I should fix my eyes on Christ, the above hymn popped into my mind. If our eyes are on Jesus – in His glory and grace and splendor – the temptations of the world seem so frivolous and dull. If we focus on the temptations, and falling to the temptations, we completely miss the goodness and love of Christ. I mean seriously, what right have we to sit ashamed, guilty, and unworthy of God’s pleasure, when Jesus gave His life on the cross and deemed us worthy?

Stay tuned for a follow up to this message.... soon. Didn’t want this one to get too long....

Crashing Down

About a week and a half ago, I crashed. Hard. Both literally and emotionally. A beautiful day, I decided to skip the gym routine and head out to the Rock Island Trail for a nice, peaceful bike ride. About eight miles out I hit some ruts in the trail and the next thing I knew everything was out of control and I was tumbling - with my bike. Crash.

A moment of shock and silence, and then I saw the bloody scrapes on my forearm and felt pain in my leg, and started into one of those whimpery turns sobbing loud, completely unfeminine cries. It didn't last long because there was no one around and therefore no one to feel sorry for me. I stood up, picked up my bike, and planned to remount, finish my ride, turn around and go back.

But, my leg wasn't bending - getting stiffer - and bigger - by the second. I wasn't getting back on that bike. Not to mention the fact that the handlebars were twisted completely sideways. I called Luke and we tried to determine where I was on the trail. Having seen a farmer on a tractor in a nearby field, I hobbled to a clearing and waved him down. He helped me into his tractor, bike on the crop tiller, and took me to the road so Luke could pick me up (we live a good 15-20 minute drive from the trailhead, and I was another 8 miles out from there, so it was going to take him awhile). Then a van drove by, and seeing me sitting on the side of the road, the woman turned around and asked if I needed help. She drove me to the trailhead where I met Luke and we went to the hospital.

Gotta put in some shout-outs to God here. We praise God for my "good samaritans" along the way, and for Luke's recent promotion to full-time that provided health insurance (we went a year without!). We also praise God that after hours of waiting, X-rays showed I did not break my femur. Just deep, deep bruising of my right thigh and seriously scraped up forearms. Follow-up X-rays a few days later showed a suspected fracture in my left radius (inner-elbow), but the doc said Friday that the best way to treat both my arm and leg are to use them. That's my kind of doctor!

There's a bit of a side story here, though. Exercise to me, is a comfort. It's a piece of me - of my identity. I work out hard and push the limits. I have this whole complex about people not possibly loving me for me and actually wanting to spend time with me. I have to either help them - i.e. be "useful" (Definitely a Martha), or impress them - make them proud - have their applause. I guess exercise meets that need for me. This, human "doing" identity prevents me from having to be too vulnerable. What am I afraid of? Me. That when people know the real me - and know my heart, they'll run away and I'll be alone.

Enter Captivating, a book I just happened to have started a few days before the crash about a woman's heart. In fact, the subtitle is "Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul." The night after I wrecked, I was sitting in bed and opened to the chapter titled "Healing the Wound." Appropriate, huh? Here's an excerpt:

"Something sent its roots down deep into her (Eve's) soul - and ours - that mistrust of God's heart, that resolution to find life on our own terms. So God has to thwart her. In love, he has to block her attempts until, wounded and aching, she turns to him and him alone for her rescue.... Jesus has to thwart us too - thwart our self-redemptive plans, our controlling and our hiding, thwart the ways we are seeking to fill the ache within us. Otherwise, we would never fully turn to him for our rescue. Oh, we might turn to him for our 'salvation,' for a ticket to heaven when we die.... But inside, our hearts remain broken and captive and far from the One who can help us."

I like to stay in control. Exercise helps me do that - to control my schedule, my body, and create just enough distance to prevent vulnerability. But as you sit in a hospital unable to put weight on your leg... as you wait to hear whether or not you will have a cast on your arm... I suddenly wasn't so much in control. Am I going to balloon up and gain 100 pounds in a week? Am I going to have extra time to fill and have to face myself and my heart and maybe even what God wants to speak to my heart? Is it going to be hard? Is it going to hurt - and not physically, because that I can handle - I mean hurt inside? Can I trust you God? Do you care about my heart here? Do you care that I'm feeling very vulnerable, exposed, helpless? Do you care that I'm scared?

You thwarted my self-redemptive plan and only to You can I truly turn for comfort - for healing. Who am I to question? As Job said, "I know that You can do all things. No plan of Yours can be thwarted... You said 'Listen now, and I will speak; I will question you and you shall answer me.'" (Job 42:2,4)

Amazing how He gets our attention sometimes. I'm working on this trust thing - and allowing myself to be just a bit vulnerable... After all, I'm writing this for the world to see - letting you see just a piece of my aching heart. Granted, old habits die hard and I'm still exercising - working with pool therapy and building strength and mobility back, but that doesn't negate the lesson... and the fact that Jesus is the only Solid Rock, the only place where we can find healing and comfort. It's in His hands - not my scraped up, weak - and constantly striving ones. Is He your Solid Rock? Have you trusted Him with your heart?

"The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God stands forever." (Isaiah 40:8)

Unworthy of Grace

What makes grace so incredible amazing is that we're never truly worth of it when we receive it. We are all - each and every one of us - dead to our sins... but through God's grace, through the atoning sacrifice of His perfect son, our sin is done away with - covered with a veil of grace. Because nothing we could do could ever restore us to an unadulterated, perfect relationship with our Father, Jesus died to serve as a bridge for the giant chasm of sin that existed between us and God.

So why do we feel like we have to earn grace? Why do we feel that is even possible? That perhaps if we can improve our position before God just a bit, we might be worthy of His love.

A few weeks ago I wrote about Ngankou, our new Cameroonian friend, whose laughter can light up a room and whose deep philosophical questions can send you to your knees in prayer for the right words and the most God-honoring answers. A few days after that post, we visited our friend and spent the afternoon discussing the significance of Christ's death on the cross and the implications of that sacrifice on where we will be spending eternity. For Ngankou, he understands the Bible in a literary sense, but can't quite grasp the fact that God would find him worthy of forgiveness for sins he has committed that he views as wrethced and unforgiveable. After all, he doesn't think he is worthy of our friendship, or of the friendship and prayer of our pastor and friends at church. To think that God would pay his penalties for him - unimaginable.

But he's been coming to church. He's even met with our pastor despite a strong disbelief that the pastor wouldn't give him the time of day. He's been asking the hard questions and trying to convince us all that "we're better than him." That he has to "get to where we are." Essentially, that he's not worthy. As we dropped him off from church today, he explained that he has a lot to work on personally - or in his words, he has "atoning to do before God would even look at him."

Oh that he would understand that the atonement is done! He understands that he is unrighteous before God, but doesn't quite realize that we all were. Because of Christ's atonement our sin has been forgiven - and we are covered with a veil of grace. God created us in His image, and loves us, and wants to have perfect fellowship with us - so much that He sent His son to bring us back to Him. As I explained this - and told him that we too were wretched sinners that did not earn our way into a relationship with the Lord but were cleansed through Jesus' death and resurrection and that through that atoning sacrifice God in essence forgets our sin and views us as righteous - something changed in him. The idea made him uncomfortable. It challenged him.

And this is where we fall powerless at God's feet in prayer. Ngankou got out of the car heavy-hearted and deep in thought. We cannot force him to understand and to put his faith in Christ. The Holy Spirit has to take over where human words fall short. May Ngankou's eyes and heart be opened. May he realize that he can't earn grace or "make up" for the sins of his past, but understand that his sentence has been paid in full if he's willing to cash the check. Will you pray with us?


(These lyrics from Tenth Avenue North's song "By Your Side" ran through my head as I wrote this post, and thought I'd share:

Why are you striving these days?
Why are you still trying, to earn grace?
Why are you crying?
Let me lift up your face,
Just don't turn away.

Why are you looking, for love?
Why are you still searching,
As if I'm not enough?
To where will you go child,
Tell me where will you run
To where will you run?

And I'll be by your side,
Wherever you fall
In the dead of night,
Whenever you call
And please don't fight
These hands that are holding you
My hands are holding you.

Look at these hands and my side
They swallowed the grave on that night
When I drank the world's sin
So I could carry you in
And give you life
I want to give you life.

And I'll be by your side
Wherever you fall
In the dead of night,
Whenever you call
And please don't fight
These hands that are holding you
My hands are holding you.

Cause I, I love you
I want you to know
That I, I love you
I'll never let you go.

Praise God that He won't ever let us go! :) )

Give Me Your Eyes

Are you aware of the amazing things we can see and experience if we open our eyes? I mean, really open our eyes?

Last Saturday I was at an RPM (cycling) class at the gym and didn't really notice the guy who got on the bike next to me, other than noting that he kind of smelled and wishing he had gotten on a bike across the room. Kind of selfish and unloving, huh? But isn't that how we tend to operate? Focused on the task at hand and only noticing others when they inconvenience us? I know I am often guilty of this... frustrated with the wait in the grocery line instead of reaching out to the person at the front who is sorting through food stamps and deciding which items are essential and which she can't buy this time; annoyed by the crying child and blind to the tired tears in the mother's eye... this "all about me" attitude.

But I also know I've been blessed in indescribable ways when I've opened my eyes. God has shown me such amazing love and grace when I've looked through His eyes. He has put people in my life that have taught me so much about His love and living for His glory.

Okay, so back to the story... at the end of the RPM class, I looked over, and opened my eyes. The gentleman was clearly African. After worshipping in an all African church for three years in Dallas and planning for ministry in Zambia, you learn to recognize someone who is native to Africa. Excited because we've missed the fellowship of our African brothers and sisters, and because we are starting our language acquisition training and need to work with people whose native language is not English, I started to talk to him. He is from Cameroon and I learned that his brother-in-law in Springfield is actually from the region of Zambia where we will be serving. God is good! But that was just the beginning. I invited my new friend to church with us and picked him up in front of the gym the next morning.

It just happened to be the Sunday where Luke was preaching, so we met him there. On the way, Ngankou asked me if it would change anything - if he would be allowed to come - if I knew he wasn't a Christian. Is that the perception unbelievers have of the church? I pray that is not the case! After all, what would be the purpose of church if we weren't focused on sharing the amazing Gift of salvation we've been given with those who don't know of the saving Grace of Jesus Christ? Without focusing on sharing the Good News, the church becomes one more place where we focus on our own needs - getting the task done and feeling good about ourselves for doing it.

So we went, and he was welcomed so warmly, and said he felt Luke was speaking directly to him. We sang blessed assurance and he copied down the words. He took notes. And he wants to come back. Luke drove him home and they shared tea and talked about life. We have a friend, and our friend is showing interest in knowing Jesus. What a blessing to be a part of that!!! And all I had to do was look through God's eyes for just a moment.

I hope Ngankou comes to the gym again this week - and I hope he chooses the bike next to me. And it will bless my socks off if he is able to join us for church on Easter Sunday. Because Jesus didn't die on the cross so I could take my salvation, smile, and tuck it away in a box for safe-keeping and show up to church on Easter Sunday in a pretty new dress. No, God sent His son to come, die as an atoning sacrifice for our sins, and then rise from the dead so that people from every tribe, tongue, people and nation would be reconciled to Him and worship Him in eternity. And He blesses us by giving us the opportunity to be a part of that!

Mary, Did You Know?

I don't know about you, but one of my favorite Christmas songs is "Mary, Did You Know?" If you're not familiar with it, here is the first verse:

"Mary did you know, that your baby boy, will one day walk on water?
Mary did you know, that your baby boy, will save our sons and daughters?
Did you know, that your baby boy has come to make you new?
This child that you delivered, will soon deliver you."

The song goes on to tell of more of the amazing things that Jesus did, ending with the line, "this sleeping child you're holding, is the great, I AM."

What the song does not ask, is "Mary, did you know, your baby boy would have to suffer death on a cross in order to save the sons and daughters?" It doesn't tell of the pain and persecution he endured - it doesn't ask if she knew of the lashings He would receive or the nails in His hands. How would she have acted if she had known? Would she have begged Him to reconsider following God's plan for His life so she wouldn't have to lose her baby boy for the salvation of the world?

We don't know the conversations Jesus had with His earthly parents regarding God's purspose for Him. Did they plead with him, suggesting He spend His life as a carpenter or perhaps a priest? When Joseph and Mary took 12-year-old Jesus to Jerusalem and Jesus lingered behind, their parental concern was evident:

"His Mother said to Him, 'Son, why have You treated us like this? Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you.'" His response: "'Why were you searching for me?' He asked. 'Didn't you know that I had to be in My Father's house?' But they did not understand what He was saying to them." (Luke 2:48-50)

How did they react, when 21 years later their precious Son was being led to Calvary? Had they come to terms with Jesus' purpose on the earth? Did they even understand it? Looking back after His resurrection, did they regret the times they pleaded with Him to change His course? Did they see God's ultimate plan for the salvation of the world? Were they proud of His humility and sacrificial love -- or ashamed by the thorns and nail-pierced hands?

It's not easy setting aside our wishes for those we love in order to make room for God's plan for their lives. We find ourselves wishing they remain close to us and fulfill our plans for their lives. It isn't necessarily selfish -- but rather a lack of eternal perspective. Mary may not have known that her baby boy would "one day rule the nations," and she may especially not have approved the means for Him getting there, but He went. He fulfilled God's plan for His life and even though it may have been hard on Mary and Joseph, think of the consequences for all of us had Jesus decided not to follow His Heavenly Father's will because His loved ones here on earth wished to keep Him safely with them.

Though letting someone go so they may follow God's will may be hard, "all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose." (Romans 8:28)

Praise the Lord that Jesus stayed the course and followed God's ultimate will for Him in order to give us salvation from our sinfulness, even if it is only in hindsight that His beloved friends and family could understand the necessity of His brutal death on the cross.

Jesus' Superpower

Ever had someone ask, "if you could have any superpower what would it be?" Well, as much as I want to fly or be able to go invisible go back in time, I think the ultimate superpower would be that of Jesus.

No, I'm not talking about "being God," as cool as that would be. I'm talking about his ability to be fully human and yet completely sinless - and completely able to follow the will of the Father. Seriously, who does that? Our sermon this morning (thank you Isaac!) was about humility, looking at Philippians 2: 1-11 about Jesus humbling himself to death on a cross and how we should humble ourselves and put others first because we have shared in the joy and love of God. Yep. Heard it. Read it. But then he goes on to talk about how Jesus left all the prestige and power he had in Heaven - by choice - to come save our sorry selves from eternity in Hell.

Jesus didn't have to leave Heaven. He could have rebelled against the Father and said, "Nope, they don't deserve it. I'm going to stay on my comfy throne and let 'em suffer." But instead, he came here and suffered the excrutiating* pain of death on the cross, for us. Again, who does that? Seriously. And once he got here and was surrounded by prideful, terrible sinners who were all out for their own good (as we all are), he still didn't sin.

(*sidenote: apparently "excrutiating" is actually "of the cross" - as in - the word came to describe the worst pain ever suffered! )

So here's my theory: Jesus came here from Heaven, which means he was with God (being God of course), in God's presence, which means he got to fully experience how incredible God must truly be and therefore want to do nothing more than live in complete obedience to God's will - even if that meant death on a cross. In other words, God is way bigger, way cooler, and way more worthy of glory, honor and praise than any of us could ever fathom - because that's the only way Jesus could have lived so perfectly in His Father's will.

Which begs the question... how would we live if we had truly experienced God's awesome wonder and been with Him face-to face? Jesus didn't have a superpower (except the whole "being God" thing, but here on Earth, he was just a human like the rest of us) - he just knew God's amazingness. We can only begin to grasp that amazingness... and I don't know about you, but knowing how Jesus experienced God and thus had the will to obey Him, it makes me want to experience and know God more through His Word... and dream of truly being in His presence in His kingdom.