Little Ones to Him Belong

I was singing lullabies to my one-year-old when I was suddenly overwhelmed by the words coming out of my mouth.

Little ones to Him belong

They are weak but He is strong

Just the thought of the children suffering in my own neighborhood and around the world brings me to tears.

Almost every day I wish I could adopt a beautiful child from China or Africa. I wish I had the ability to do foster care or adopt domestically. God gave me eight amazing children to care for, and they surely need to be my first priority, but I wouldn't even hesitate to add to the number if I could. There are too many children out there who need a real loving family.

Just to give you an idea of how real this need is, here are some statistics about children growing up in the U.S. foster care system:

-71% of girls who age out of the system will be pregnant by the age 21
-50% of children who age out of the system will develop a substance dependence
-60% of child sex trafficking victims recovered in 2013 were children from foster care
-33% of children who age out of the system become homeless

The good news is that I have recently learned about two organizations that may allow me to help, in small ways. 

The first is Foster the Bay, a Bay Area organization that works with churches to build a support system for foster families. They started 3 years ago, when a social worker approached a group of pastors and said that there was a need for more foster families, could you help? Right now, there are twice as many foster children as there are families who can take them in. The goal of Foster the Bay is to see the number of children waiting for foster homes go down by raising awareness and help through local churches. Imagine, with the high number of churches in this area, if every church fostered one child, what a difference that would make! I attended an informational meeting this morning and I am excited to take part in the work they do! My family isn't able to foster, but we can definitely be a support for a family that will be fostering.

The second is Safe Families, a nation-wide non-profit organization that strives to keep families together by helping through the difficult times. If a parent is unable to take care of a child but has no outside support, he/she can get help through Safe Families to get counseling or rehab or rest while the child is safely, and temporarily, being taken care of. The child may stay with a host family for a weekend, or a month. The maximum length is one year and the goal is always to reunite the child with the parent. Check out the Safe Families website to see if there is a location near you.

Maybe this post will inspire you to do something that you've never thought about doing before. Look into adoption and foster care. Pray about it. Make the sacrifices. We were ourselves adopted to into God's family–what better gift then could we give a little one?

Ashamed of My House

Sigh. What do people think of us when they see our house?

Boards in the fence are either missing or hanging on for dear life. The lawn is dead (brown is the new green, right?), which gives our faded-orange-sherbet house a very monochromatic, tired look. The kitchen is also tired, so much so that the dishwasher, faucet, stove, and cabinets seem to be giving up on us, one by one. Cracks and holes in the walls cry out for patching and a fresh coat of paint. The backyard is in its usual state of chaos, like the rest of the house– the house full time of mismatched, hand-me-down furniture and loud, energetic children.

We are the "ugly" house on our street. The "poor" family. "Those" neighbors. Sometimes, I admit, I am ashamed of my house. I wish it looked more shiny and welcoming. I wish I had more time and money to spend on landscaping, remodeling, and decorating. To steal a line from the musical 'Into the Woods', "I wish…"

Then a family from Iraq visits us. We have a wonderful, simple time together learning about each other's culture. Without knowing why, I start feeling a bit uncomfortable.

What do they think of us when they see our house?

A feeling of shame comes over me again, but not because my house isn't as lovely as I would like it to be, but because it is more than anything they have in Iraq.

Air conditioning and heat. Sturdy walls and a roof. Appliances that wash my clothes or heat my food and water. Four bedrooms, two bathrooms, and two living areas. A patch of lawn.

And this doesn't include the amazing food we eat, the general good health we experience, and the feeling of security we have.

I live a blessed life of ease and luxury.

But my Iraqi friends don't lecture me for our extravagance. They are grateful for our friendship and the hospitality we show them. And yet, I know that they have seen refugees run for their lives with nothing more than the clothes on their back. They live among the truly poor– people who live in cardboard houses in the dead of winter. Their church meets in a small building furnished with only old couches and folding chairs. And they are not ashamed to say, "Come visit us!"

It is my turn to be grateful– for renewed perspective, for brotherly love that knows no boundaries, and for a shame that leads to repentance and contentedness.

Chosen and Loved

This morning, I heard stories from around the world, stories of children who live without clean water or nourishing food, without education, without health care. Some lived in fear, in places where girls could end up as prostitutes or bullets and bombs could harm and kill. And what do they have to look forward to? Nothing but the next day.

I've shared about Compassion before, but I was hit hard today as I watched a video of a girl receiving the news of her sponsorship for the first time. She cried as she laughed. Her mom cried. Her dad cried. And I couldn't help but cry myself. I had seen sponsorship as an opportunity to help a boy or girl; these children see sponsorship as an adoption. What I hadn't known was that children can sign up to be in the Compassion program before they are sponsored. This girl was already receiving the benefits of being in the program, but having a sponsor meant something completely different for her. It meant that she was chosen. She felt cared for. She felt loved. She looked forward to receiving letters from her sponsor. It's more than a chance to escape poverty; it's a relationship. 

Which reminded me of the joy I felt when I first realized that I was adopted by my Father. I found comfort in knowing that I was special. I had peace because I knew that Someone was watching out for me.

…even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ… In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us… as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things to him, things in heaven and things on earth. ~Ephesians 1:3-10

Being chosen. Being loved. There is nothing that satisfies our souls more deeply. And what's even better news, for many of Compassion's sponsored children, their earthly 'adoption' leads to their heavenly adoption. Compassion goes beyond feeding hungry stomachs and healing broken bodies.

Please take the time today to find out more about Compassion and child sponsorship. Click on this link for more information and to see the video I had mentioned: Compassion

It costs less that $50 a month. And it's much more than writing a check every month. 

The Luxury of Choice

This morning, did you have to decide which outfit to wear?

Did you check your watch, then think about taking a shower... or not?

Did you choose what you wanted to eat for breakfast– cereal, eggs, toast, or coffee from Starbucks?

These may sound like strange, silly questions about simple, mundane things, but let me point this out to you: if you are making choices, you are living in luxury.

I was reminded of this the other day when my daughter needed to wash her hands and she came to tell me that someone was in the bathroom.

"Remember, you can always use the other bathroom," I told her. "In fact, you can wash your hands in the kitchen. We have three sinks in this house! THREE!"

At that moment, I was struck by the prosperity around me. Not only do we have three sinks, but they all have hot and cold water! And we have four bedrooms! Families in Hong Kong squeeze into tiny one or two bedroom apartments. And not only do I have one car, I have TWO! Children in Africa walk miles to retrieve water or to go to school. And, if you count all the plates in our house (even if they are chipped or mismatched), we have enough for ten medium-sized families!

And this is only material wealth we're talking about. What about the freedom to do what you want with your time? To say what you want? To go where you want? People in China cannot speak freely. Children in India work all day in dangerous conditions. Men and women in many countries are imprisoned by corrupt police for unjust reasons. There are people STILL living in slavery today, even in the United States, and choice is something they can only dream of.

Take a few seconds today to stop and think whenever you are making a choice. Usually, we make everyday decisions without giving them much thought. Which shoes? Which book? Which store?– we take them all for granted. But our gratefulness will abound if we start seeing that the choice itself is a gift. We will begin to see that everything, from our abilities to walk and talk to reading this blog on a computer, is from God.

Then, if you are interested in learning more about poverty, slavery, and injustice around the world, check out these links:

Compassion International- Facts about poverty- My family has sponsored two children through Compassion International. I especially love reading stories about their "graduates" and how they are now using their education and knowledge to help their families and communities escape poverty.

Made in a Free World- The founder and CEO of this organization used to lead worship at the church I attended in Oakland. He is a gifted songwriter and singer (I often have one of his songs going in my head), but has decided to use his talents to tackle something bigger. Their Slavery Footprint "game" is eye-opening, as is their blog.

International Justice Mission- People living in poverty can barely afford food, so when they are in need of a lawyer or advocate, they are often helpless in their situation. IJM have put rapists in prison and freed innocent men and women. They are also on the front lines of the war against slavery, especially sex-trafficking.

Caring for the Sparrows

My daughter rushed in from the backyard.

"Mom, there's a bird outside and it's hurt!"

I followed her out and saw my other children standing by some old branches. There, in the dirt, was a little sparrow. Its feathers were fluffed out, it was missing an eye, and it was sitting very still, as if it wanted to hide. I quietly walked over to it, and with little trouble, gently picked it up.

We brought the bird inside and prepared a box for it. As far I could tell, there wasn't much wrong with the bird. The eye injury was old and its wings weren't broken. But the little bird couldn't fly. My children were delighted with the prospect of a sparrow for a pet. They named it 'Cocoa' and watched over it as it tucked its head under a wing and took a nap.

But, a few hours later, delight turned to sorrow. Cocoa started to contort its body in distress, and soon, it was lying still in my daughter's hand. The children buried Cocoa outside (and somehow managed to misspell the name). I found my middle daughter crying later, and I let her cry. I told her that we did what we could, but we couldn't fix an internal problem. Nevertheless, the bird was able to rest (and die) in a warm, safe environment, and that it was good to care for living things, even if, in the end, we got nothing in return.

I'm saddened to think that our world doesn't always agree with that last statement. The more I read and hear about current trends, the more I see a shift in how we care for the weak, helpless, and needy. At the top of the list are the elderly, the disabled, the sick, and babies (born and unborn). Next on the list are neighbors, acquaintances, and family members who require more of our time, money, or energy. 

We as humans naturally find it easier to care for people who can care back. It is easier to love those who can give us something in return. But is that how God sees us? Is that how He sees the sparrows? No, God cares for the sparrows (see Luke 12:6) though the sparrows can do nothing for God. And in the same way, God loves us, though we are of no benefit to Him. In fact, God's love for us COST Him something– His own son. And He does shed tears for us when He sees us hurting.

My family didn't make any big sacrifices for the little sparrow (we didn't catch any disease or parasite, we didn't spend any money besides buying a bag of bird seed) but I am still glad for the reminder that we need to care for the 'sparrows', even if it is at great cost to us.

An Unexpected Gift

As I think more about Operation Christmas Child, I recall a memory from days long past. Let me take you back to Christmas 1984…

Rita was learning much about her new home: English words, American schools, fireflies and snow– life in suburban Illinois had little in common with life in Hong Kong. But despite the difficulties, she was getting by. First-grade was okay, though making friends was hard…

One day, an unexpected visitor knocked on the apartment door. A girl was there, older than Rita, dressed in a uniform of some sort. She called herself a Girl Scout, and she offered Rita and her sister a gift, in celebration of Christmas. Rita's family had always celebrated Christmas with her church in Hong Kong, but Christmas gifts were new to her. Rita did not understand why this stranger would give her a present, but she was happy to receive it. Inside the gift was a pony, a comb with her name on it, and several other fun items. To this day, she has that pony, and she will always remember that year when she received her first Christmas gift…

And yes, I still have the My Little Pony I received that snowy day. If that gift made such an impression on my six-year-old mind, can you imagine what a shoebox of presents would mean to a boy or girl in an impoverished or disaster-stricken country? 

Again, if you are not familiar with Operation Christmas Child, click on the link to find out more!

Operation Christmas Child

Boxes of Hope

(photo courtesy of Samaritan's Purse)

When I received the shoe box, I was reminded of God's love for me and the hope that I had in Him. I hope and I pray that will be the case for these kids, that whatever they're going through in their lives, they can be reminded that someone out there loves them. But the most important thing of all is that Jesus Christ loves them and cares about them. ~ Alex Nsengimana

After surviving the 1994 genocide in Rwanda, Alex lived at an orphanage, which was where he received his Christmas shoebox. And as simple as a shoebox filled with toys may seem to us, to children like Alex it is a symbol of hope and love. Alex went on the graduate from Bible college in Minnesota and return to his orphanage in Rwanda to help hand out shoeboxes and share with the children the hope and love he knew– and it all started with one shoebox.

I love hearing stories like Alex's. I love seeing photos of the children receiving their boxes, and I always scan the pictures for a recognizable box. Even if I don't find one (and I never do), I picture in my mind my box in the hands of one of the beautiful children of Rwanda, or the Philippines, or Mongolia. Then I pray specifically for that child, that my gift will go beyond the toys and pencils and toothpaste.

And now, it's time again to prepare boxes for Operation Christmas Child! I have been filling shoeboxes for this ministry since I was a teenager, and every year now, I take my children to the store and allow them to pick out items for a child. We search through the toys, the school supplies, and the hygiene items for the perfect gifts. Some of my children chose to use their own money this year to purchase the items, which makes me so proud! All together, we have six shoeboxes packed and ready to go!

If you are not familiar with Operation Christmas Child, it is a ministry of Samaritan's Purse. Guidelines, instructions, and videos are all available at this link: 

Operation Christmas Child

The deadline is November 24th, so hurry! Give a child a present he or she will never forget!

Seeing Stars

I've avoided writing because our computer has been broken and I don't really like typing on the iPad. 

But I've also been a bit busy with several days of entertaining house guests. First, a man attending a conference at our church spent the night here. What was a simple agreement to offer a bed to a stranger became an evening of encouraging talk and news from around the world (this man spent three years as a missionary in China). How I love meeting a brother in Christ and discovering how connected we are!

Next, a friend from France came for a short visit. Hearing her talk about teaching, about her family, and about France again reminded me that the world is much smaller than it seems. No matter where we are from, we have so much in common!

And now, staying with us is a pastor from Kenya. In the few days that he has been with us, he has become family. He and his wife both graduated from programs sponsored by Compassion International (so if you ever wonder if your sponsorship helps, know that it does!) And I never tire of hearing about life in other parts of the world: how foods are similar or different, how even humor is different, how time can be 'flexible', and how the Church is growing. And it was this pastor's words last night that pushed me to jump on the iPad and write today, despite the inconveniences of typing on this electronic device. Here is what he shared with us (you'll have to imagine his Kenyan accent):

Someone once told me that he likes to see the stars when they come out. I said, "No, the stars don't come out. They were always there. But you can't see them until it is dark. And sometimes, in our darkest times, that is when we see the light. We see God's love and God's grace. Though they were always there, we didn't know it until it became dark."

And that is what I wanted to share with you today, especially if you are experience a dark time. Look up, and look for the stars. They are there.

(And let me add that I am thankful for God's thoughtfulness- though I can't travel to France, China, or Kenya, He has brought them to me! And I hope someday to experience these places in person, and find ways to serve my 'family' there!)

Small-Circle People

Every now and then, a neutral word picks up a negative connotation. 

'Housewife' was one of those. A term once used to simply describe a woman not employed outside of the home, it now conjures up an image of a woman in a June Cleaver dress and pearls, slaving away in a prison of a home, with no ambition to do more than make the best meatloaf in the world to her husband's satisfaction. And so, nowadays people prefer 'homemaker' or 'stay-at-home mom'.

I feel that the term 'introvert' has also become one of those words. Say 'introvert', and people think 'wallflower', 'shy', 'anti-social', 'hermit', or 'nerd'. An introvert is the unattractive boy or girl in the corner by the punch bowl. Or the bookworm with the nerdy glasses and mismatched clothes hiding behind War and Peace. Or the single, middle-aged man or woman who goes home to a table set for one and a conversation with his/her cat. They are not wanted at social gatherings, because they are awkward and just plain boring.

Which is not necessarily true! Sure there are times when I can't think of anything to say while squished into a corner of the couch with the music blaring behind me, and though everyone else is joining the congo line around the room, I choose to sip my punch and force a smile. But introversion isn't about preferring solitude over people; it's about how many people one can be around at any given time, and the level of interaction one has with those people.

And that is why I've decided to give introverts a new name: small-circle people.

I will proudly say that I am a small-circle person. I like going where there are no crowds, because I can enjoy my surroundings better. I like conversations with one or two people around a small table, because I can focus on their words and emotions and talk about meaningful things, and not feel like someone is being left out. I like trying new things, and I actually prefer to do with them someone else-- it's just more fun that way. I space out parties, large social obligations, and outings on my calendar so I don't overwhelm myself. I like quiet, because I can't think when there is noise. And-- this is most important-- I choose a small circle of people and pour my love into them, because I know that though I am not equipped to help a multitude of people, I can certainly help some.

I have been learning over the years not to allow labels to shape me; my identity in God is not based on what I think I can't do ("I can't help all the orphans in Africa." "I can't lead a Bible study." "I can't talk to teenagers.") but on what God can do through me. By reminding myself that I am a small-circle person, I can more easily dispel the label of 'introvert' and focus on the plans God has for me. I may not be the 'life of the party', but I can find the one person in the crowd who needs a friend. I can befriend one neighbor who is lonely. I can mentor one young woman and help her find her identity in Christ.

God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in a God, and God abides in him. By this is love perfected with us... There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. ~I John 4:16b-18a (ESV)

Colorblindness

My children are colorblind.

I remember a conversation we had when they were much younger. At the time, I wanted to somehow teach my children to see past a person's racial background, and my friend Melita (who is African-American) was coming to visit our home. The children couldn't remember who she was, so I started describing her.

"She's very tall. She has short, black, curly hair. And she helps with the babies sometimes at church." 

Blink blink. The kids still couldn't remember.

I added the one detail I had wanted to avoid… the color of her skin.

"She has dark brown skin. We went out for dim sum with her."

Suddenly, the light bulb went on when I mentioned dim sum.

"Oh yeah! I remember… She has dark skin?!"

I realized then that I didn't have to teach my children NOT to be prejudiced. They were born with eyes that saw the world honestly, and skin color was just another detail, like Mom has black hair and brown eyes and Dad has brown hair and green eyes. They have one grandma who is blond, one cousin who is red-headed, and friends who are Indian, Hispanic, Asian, and African, speaking English with various accents. Whether we eat Chinese food, American food, Mexican food, or French food (you should hear the kids try to say 'beouf bourguignon'!), we love to share our food with others. Because we live in an area with enough diversity, and because my husband and I show appreciation and respect for all cultures, my children are not afraid of differences. For them, it is very simple. People are people, and what is most important is kindness and friendship.

As the children have grown older, I have learned more and more that race is not a subject to be avoided. God made people of all appearances, and the world is better because of the wonderful cultural diversity in it! As part of our history lessons, we have studied foods, language, and dress from around the world, as well as racial discrimination. I do wonder if my children will ever face discrimination as I have, but, as hard as it is to say, I would rather they be on the receiving end than the giving end.

Yesterday at the store, a young man enthusiastically pointed to my children and shouted, "Hey, your children are 'hapa' like me!"

As we walked through the parking lot, I tried to explain to my older children what 'hapa' meant. Blink blink. They looked as confused as when they were younger. In their minds, they "know" that I'm Chinese-- we eat Chinese food, we learn the Chinese language, we celebrate Chinese holidays and sometimes wear traditional Chinese clothes. But they never think of me as being Chinese. In fact, sometimes they say, "But Mom, you don't LOOK Chinese!"

So I tried a different tactic. I started listing their friends who are also 'hapa', but they just got more confused.

"Mary is part Asian?! Really?! Is her dad Asian?!"

I laughed to myself. Their friend Mary has a Filipino mom and a Caucasian dad, but my children never noticed. And maybe it's better that way.

With time, my children will grow more aware of cultural differences. The world will make sure of that, and the world will try to teach them to see through the lenses of prejudice and stereotypes. 

For now, though, my children see people as God sees them, with an appreciation for their differences, but without allowing those differences to get in the way. I hope that never changes.

My Other Children

My youngest son and I were just looking at the photo on the refrigerator of the boy we sponsor through Compassion International. The boy, now a young man, will turn 21 and graduate this August! In the photo, he is smiling and standing confidently, much different from when we first "met" him at the age of 17.

Some people wonder why we can't just ship food to famished countries, or dig wells and build houses. The difference is clear: we can "feed a man for a day" or "feed a man for a lifetime." Some countries have grown too dependent on short-term missionaries. Others simply take advantage of visitors' generosity. Still others gladly accept help with physical needs, but don't want to hear what the foreigners have to say about their spiritual needs. On the other hand, sponsorship programs provide relationship, mentorship, and discipleship. Like medical missions, they can meet a specific need rather than a general need. And most importantly, they teach people to become leaders, thereby influencing the culture positively from the inside out.

In a recent study of sponsorship programs, Dr. Bruce Wydick of the University of San Francisco found that these programs made a huge difference in the lives of the sponsored children. Compared to their unsponsored peers, 27-40% were more likely to complete secondary school, 50-80% more likely to graduate from college, and 35% more likely to have white-collar jobs (with many becoming teachers and leaders of their community). 

These numbers (along with the information available on the Compassion International website) are very encouraging, since I most likely will never meet my "son" in person. But then it occurs to me, as I finish telling my son about his "brother" in India, that there may be a time when we can all be together. Someday, in Heaven, I hope to meet all my "children."

God's Precious Jewels

These are my daughters, ages 6 and 8. They are modeling the goofy mustaches I had crocheted for my brother-in-law and his wife last Christmas. The girls love to play cowgirls, draw, dance, ride their bikes, climb trees, and bake. They are not afraid of spiders, a little afraid of the dark, and, in general, enjoy school. Could you imagine if the only life they knew was living with a group of girls in a dark building, being exploited by men day and night?

Two Sundays ago, when I heard the stories told by Sara Groves and the pastors of Menlo Park Presbyterian, I was appalled, to say the least, and struck by the fact that they were describing children the same age as my own. Girls, and I do mean girls, were sold by their own families for this sickening, ugly business. Some were kidnapped, beaten, threatened, and forced into this life. One girl attended a Bible class on the weekdays, but disappeared on weekends so her grandmother could sell her. The price for one girl? Sometimes $5. Sometimes $30. And the numbers of girls entrapped in this form of slavery? More than we know.

Sara Groves is working with International Justice Mission to help girls like these. But they are not the only ones who need help. In some countries, innocent people are put in jail for the crimes the police commit. Pastors are arrested. People have homes taken from them. Please go to the IJM website to find out more.

I plan to support IJM. Maybe putting a face, my daughter's face, to a statistic will convince you to do so also.

The Easter Story Continues

"... you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth." 
Acts 1:8b

After Jesus rose from the dead, He appeared to many of his disciples and taught them for forty days. Then He told them, those who had personal contact with Him, to tell others about what they had seen. Those people then told others, who told others, who told others, until the Good News spread like a wildfire in all directions. And I'm so glad it spread all to the way to Hong Kong!

Because if a missionary hadn't shared the Gospel to the Chinese, there wouldn't have been a church on the island of Cheung Chau.
And if there hadn't been a church on Cheung Chau, my parents wouldn't have been invited to youth group.
And if they hadn't been invited to youth group, they wouldn't have heard the Message and become Christians.
And if they hadn't become Christians, they wouldn't have attended Dallas Theological Seminary.
And if they hadn't attended Dallas Theological Seminary, my dad wouldn't have become a pastor in the U.S.
And if my dad hadn't become a pastor in the U.S., I wouldn't have had my 5th-grade Sunday School teacher, who told me that I needed to accept Jesus as my personal Savior.
And if I hadn't accepted Jesus as my personal Savior in the 5th-grade, I wouldn't have stayed in the church through college, which was when I met Pastor Brian Townsend, who taught me about God's unconditional love for me.
And now I'm here, homeschooling mother of five, pastor's wife, writing to you about God's great love for me!

Have you ever thought about your 'faith family lineage'? Have you ever thought of all that happened to bring you to this point of life? Whether it was your parents, a pastor, a youth leader, a friend, a neighbor, or all of the above, there is a lineage of people sharing Jesus's story that leads all the way back to the first disciples.

So, really, the Easter story continues with us! We are witnesses of Jesus, and we need to share our story with people around us. Your faith family lineage goes back for two thousand years and has hundreds, maybe thousands, of branches. Don't let the faith lineage stop with you!

A Chilly Experience

We just had our heater fixed. In a matter of minutes, the temperature in our house went from 54 degrees (Farenheit) to 64 degrees. It felt amazing, after three days of being either bundled up or chilled to the bone.

And (as always) I observed a few things.

1) When you're already cold, putting on more clothes can't warm you.

2) Food helps your body generate heat.

3) I like living in the San Francisco Bay Area. I especially like the frequent sunshine. And I like warm baths.

After living in a 50-degree house for three days, I still can't imagine what it would be like to be cold, hungry, and homeless, because I had the luxury of food, shelter, and baths. A friend told me that he was talking to a homeless man the other day, and the man could not stop shaking, though he wore several coats and mittens. Even here, where winters are mild, people are not meant to be outside when the temperature drops below 50.

I think I will dig up my extra yarn and crochet a few hats for the homeless. I know it's not much, but maybe a hat, a warm cup of coffee, and a good lunch will make a difference for someone this winter.

A Blessed New Year

A 401K

Owning a house

A college fund for your kids

How necessary are these things?

For most of us in middle-class America, they are as common and expected as owning two cars and watching satellite TV. And not that there is anything wrong with these things. What we need to ask ourselves is, "How much importance do they have in our lives?"

That's exactly the question David Platt asks in his book Radical. After reading the book, my husband and I had to admit to ourselves that we too had bought into the idea of the "American Dream." Over the years, we had listened to people's advice and strived to do all the 'right' things. And we worried when people asked us "How are you going to get all your kids through college?" or "Why do you put your money down a hole by renting instead of owning?" Have a portfolio, invest in your future, work your way up the ladder, well-meaning people told us.

But as Platt discusses, as Christians in the U.S., or any country, we should not be looking to our retirement funds for security. What's more important is making an eternal investment in spreading God's kingdom, here and now, and reevaluating how much we really need more stuff or Starbucks in our lives. Oftentimes, we want a fancy new building for our church, or a new outfit for an upcoming wedding, or we simply 'need' a new car. I've actually had to explain to someone why I chose not to buy a "really cute" bag at the store simply because I wanted one. She countered with, "Sometimes you just have to buy yourself something, just for fun!" But I remind myself that $150 could buy me a fancy pair of shoes, or groceries to feed my family for a week. In another country, $150 is a month's salary! 

2013 can be the year of shifting priorities. If every Christian in the U.S. invested more money, time, and prayer to those less fortunate, can you imagine how many hungry people would be fed, how many lonely people would have company, and how many lost sheep  would be found?! 

In the last chapter of Radical (but still read the whole book, it's worth it), Platt offers this challenge:

1) Pray for the entire world (www.operationworld.org is a good resource for that)

2) Read through the whole Bible

3) Sacrifice your money for a specific purpose

4) Spend your time in another context

5) Commit your life to a multiplying community (meaning a good, Christian church family)

Make this year extra-memorable by taking on this challenge, in whole or in part. You will find yourself blessed beyond belief in 2013!

It's Shoebox Time!

Yes, it's time to fill our shoeboxes for Operation Christmas Child! What started as a tradition I did with my mother has become one that I do with my own kids. We go to the store and each of my children 'shops' for a child, and this year, the older ones will pay for the items themselves. It is a wonderful way to encourage children to think about others and to take the Christmas focus off of 'getting'. 

If you've never filled a shoebox, here is the link to Samaritan's Purse, the organization who runs this yearly program. (Operation Christmas Child) It is as easy as digging up an old shoebox and picking up some hygiene items, small toys and candies, and school supplies for a young boy or girl. (There are a few restrictions on what you can give-- see the website for a list of those items). They do ask that you think about a specific age, because some items are more appropriate for a toddler or older child. (You will label the box to specific gender and age of the recipient.) Some people cover the shoebox in Christmas wrap, and others use a lidded plastic box instead of a cardboard shoebox because the box itself can be reused by the child.

The only other thing to know is that EACH box requires $7 to ship it. Write a check and put it in the box with your items, or pay online and you'll even get an e-mail later telling you what country your box ended up in. Then find a local drop-off point (many churches collect the shoeboxes) and you're done!

Every time I watch a video showing the children receiving their Christmas shoeboxes, tears come to my eyes. Each child, in addition to their gifts, get a book telling them the Gospel story in their language. There are now adults who tell the story of how they became a Christian because of the shoebox they received as a child! Visit the Samaritan's Purse website for stories, or to see how your shoebox will go from your home, across oceans, forests, and deserts, into the hands of a beautiful child in another country!

Little Box

(Lyrics to my new song, written after watching a documentary about Sara Groves and her trip to Rwanda and Arkansas after Hurricane Katrina)


I built myself a little box
Complete with windows and a door that locked
There I, contented, lived my life
Sipping my tea, watching the world go by

Sometimes I heard a cry of pain
I looked outside, the tears fell as the rain
But I just checked my door and lock
And settled back inside my box

Then one day, I received a note,
Hand-written, folded in an envelope
I opened it, curious to see
If the note's author was my love-to-be

But my admirer he was not
But still my lover despite what I thought
His message took me by surprise
His words caused me to laugh and cry

And still more letters came my way
I read his love notes to me everyday
And within me, they fanned a fire
A greater love that only Love inspires

And then I found I'd hit a wall
My little house had somehow grown too small
And love had burned through door and lock
For now my heart was bigger than my box

Mustard Seeds

I used to think that missionaries were supers-- supermen, superwomen, super-Christians. They must have a better connection with God; they had text-messaging while I still snail-mailed. Or they had a mountain of faith, compared to my grain of faith.

But Jesus says, "I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you."

So my grain of faith should be enough. Enough to fly me across the ocean and and live in a country where English is not spoken. Enough to give me courage to choose work that pays less, but reaches more people. Enough to know that God can change a person, any person.

I discovered today that even missionaries can have faith as small as a mustard seed. We spent the day with our friends William and Larisa (I know this is the third time I've written about them, but most of us have people in our lives who consistently nurture us in loving ways-- William and Larisa are some of mine) and they shared with me that they are unsure of their next destination, but they are sure that they need a home from which they can do their ministry. Where that home will come from? God will provide, as He always had. But it sometimes keeps Larisa up at night. She and her husband discuss it over and over, they pray and they pray, they ask and they ask their connections for guidance and prayer. They want to make good parenting decisions as their children get older, and they ask me-- me!-- for homeschooling ideas. Unlike my idea of the super-missionary-Christian, they often don't have it all figured out before they get on the plane. Their faith right now feels small, as small as a mustard seed. But the difference, I think, between them and me, is that they will still step out with their mustard seed firmly in hand, whereas I would hold back and wait for a sprout, or better yet, a root or branch before I trust God.

We each hold our mustard seeds, and if we all stepped in faith, we would move many mountains. Imagine a world like that!

(Please pray for William and Larisa as they continue to shine the Light for Muslims in Europe, Asia, and Africa. Pray that God will provide a home for them and their six children, a home that they can use to teach and serve.)

Living in the Light of God's Love

I lament that I do not live every moment in the light of God's love. I try too often to live by my own strength as I try to gain some status in this world or attempt to "fix" it. And I allow the cares of the world to overcome me, forgetting that God is all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-loving!

But I am encouraged by my friends William and Larisa, who are back in the United States after another year abroad as missionaries. They truly live in the light of God's love. Sometimes they arrive in a city not knowing where their family will sleep that night, and a person offers them a place to stay. They share the message of the cross in countries that are not always open to the Gospel, but they know that every meeting, be it with a taxi-driver or an old friend, is by God's divine appointment. Every breath they breath is God-given, and every step they take is God-directed. They don't do anything on their own strength!

I want to share with you an e-mail I received this morning from Larisa, who had just traveled to Florida with three of their six children. This is just one of many examples of my friends' great faith.

Merry Christmas!  I, Larisa, just got back from an amazing, God-ordained time in Florida. God allowed me to share some of the great things He has been doing overseas with a large Community Bible study group and with the chapel service at Teen Missions Int'l. 

There is a verse in Psalm 68:20 that says, "God is to us a God of deliverances; And to GOD the Lord belong escapes from death."

God just gave us ANOTHER escape from death.  We have had so many hair raising events and yet God has just sent His angels again and again to rescue our lives from destruction.

We had to use a loaner car seat from United as they sent ours to the wrong destination.  The car seat they gave us was a bit too small, so on the airporter bus I let my one-year-old stand up a bit as she had been sitting in a stroller, car seat, and plane for about 18 hours.  When she fell asleep, I set her in her car seat beside me on the bus and almost didn't buckle her.  God led me to buckle her even though the top straps were so tight I couldn't slip my fingers under them.

As I was carrying her in her car seat down the stairs of the bus, a man insisted on taking it out of my hands.  When he started down the steps he slipped and the whole car seat fell upside down and he just had a hold of the bottom.  If I had just set my daughter in the car seat and had not buckled her chest strap, she would have fallen almost 5 feet down landing on the top of her head on cement.  God rescued her from another super close call with death.

My mind keeps going back and forth from praise to God for this rescue to terror and shock at how close we came to losing her.  For those of you who don't know our youngest, she is such an extremely  joyful, patient, longsuffering and content baby.  She is so patient through hours and hours of travel and just grins and claps her hands and smiles at everyone around.  She has been in 10 countries and been held and loved by people from many, many nationalities.

Thanks again for your prayers.  God has opened so many amazing opportunities to ministry to us and at the same time it seems the evil one is trying hard to kill and destroy us. I had shared the Gospel with a man from Lebanon just before this happened.  God has given so many radical rescues from death.  Praise to our Mighty God who is NEAR!

When I read this, I thought of my own little baby, and I know that I should never take her safety and health for granted. Everything I have, from my health, to my family and friends, to my husband's job, to my home, is a gift fromGod. There is no "luck" or "hard work" involved. And everything I do can be for His glory, if I remember that I live in the light of God's love.

Please take a moment to pray for my friends William and Larisa and their six children as they prepare to return to the Middle East and Europe in January to continue spreading the Good News!