It's all good?

"ALL THINGS WORK TO GOOD".......I have seen this passage beaten and abused beyond recognition. Somehow, the western church has come to believe that Jesus is a good-luck charm that will not let anything bad happen to us; no suffering, no pain and certainly to failure.

Many in conservative circles scoff at the overt prosperity gospel, but the subtle version may be even more damaging.

My Dad lost his father when he was only 15 years old. As the youngest of ten children, he was the only boy who was still living on the family farm. Quitting high school was his only option and the daunting task of running the farm at 15 must have been overwhelming.

After nearly 20 years of working heavy machinery for the North Carolina Department of Transportation, Dad had destroyed his back. Surgeons were able to fuse 4 vertebrae together and I never saw my Dad truly bend over. I can only imagine that his back caused him nearly continuous pain, but throughout my childhood and adolescence I never heard a word about it. He pushed through and continued to show us what it meant to work hard without complaining.

When my brother, Danny, was diagnosed with Muscular Dystrophy, I was just an infant. Mom and Dad must have been crushed. Mom tells me that every few years they would have an appointment at the Duke University Hospital where the finest doctors would inform them of the harsh reality of this cruel disease and lower their expectations. They never imagined that Danny would live past the early teenage years, much less, learn to drive and graduate high school. Danny was twenty-six when he died and he left a tremendous legacy of hope, perseverance and survival. He also suffered in silence.

Daily, it took Danny about 45 minutes for him to dress himself. Dad would have to stifle the desire to help, choosing to allow Danny to struggle and maintain a certain level of independence. Dad used a towel to muffle his own cries. Danny was a joy and a tremendous example to us all.

So, how do “all things work for good”? Certainly, we cannot be talking about new cars or careers. God is not writing us a blank check for anything that we desire. He is making a much larger and important promise. God is committed to conforming us to the image of Jesus Christ. Simply put, He is committed to making us better people. As a friend explained to me in the wake of our first ministry disappointment, “God is not concerned about your comfort. He is concerned about your character.”

Was Dad a better person in spite of all of life’s difficulties or was his character a result of all these bad things? 

Would a humble submission to God in the midst of life’s worse suffering produce the strength of character that would begin to resemble our Savior in some small way?

Dad

It has been a little more than 6 months since my Dad passed away.  It feels strange to see it in print. The pause between sentences was uncomfortable. I was unprepared for the intensity of feeling…of loss.

               

I live a few thousand miles away from my little home town. That has been true for nearly 20 years, but it feels even further today; not because of the actual geography, but rather the way that life has changed me, hopefully for the better.

Dad’s death has made me more contemplative than usual. I may come across as moody and that may be true. My faith in God is real and alive, but only the edge is taken off of the pain. I miss my father and I have for a very long time.

You have never met a more amicable person than Dad. I want to use the word “nice”, but it doesn't really encompass the reality. From all that I've been able to witness, Dad genuinely wanted the best for the people around him, everyone with whom he came in contact. He had a kind word for everyone and that’s impressive. I am not sure when it actually happened, but I know that I had children of my own and Dad was approaching elderly the first time I was able to hold the door open for him and he actually walked ahead of me entering a restaurant first. How does that change me? How does a life time of caring for others influence all of us who still have ample time to serve?

               

This question has taken a Biblical turn for me as I remember the details. Dad’s life was difficult and I wonder what difference that made…and makes

Dad grew up on a real working farm with a little bit of everything that a family of 12 needs to survive. I envy the resourcefulness, but I like my running water and indoor toilet. Does growing up on a farm in the decades following the “great depression” make you a better person? Would harder work and fewer comforts make us more mature or at the very least more grateful?  Are there not great spiritual benefits in learning to wait and working for the good of the whole family rather than simply seeking personal gain? Can we learn patience without waiting? Can we mature without suffering? Are we truly grateful without the pain of wanting something that we are never able to have?

Romans 8:28,29

                And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. For those God fore knew he also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of His Son…

                                                                        (To be continued…)

It was the middle of the summer and a group of churches had come together to host a county-wide crusade.  I remember the strangeness of seeing all of this activity stretched out on the Locust baseball field. You could feel the excitement and I loved the ventriloquist and the story of the little tree who was trying to please God with its sacrifices. I am pretty sure that we still have the Geraldine and Ricky album.

My brother, Danny, suffered from Muscular Dystrophy.  Although I was only 7 years old, I could notice the toll that it was beginning to take.  He was walking with more of a hitch and falling more often.  Our play became much less rambunctious.  Three years later, at 15, he would fall in the bathroom at West Stanly High School while kicking away a toilet roll.  He would never walk again.

But, Danny was not a complainer.  In reality, He was a great big brother and the kindest person I have ever known.  The only semi-bad thing I can remember was the tiddlywink incident.  You see, we lied about that one. 

I was about six, the summer before the crusade.  At a Sunday school picnic, I was finally brave enough to try the monkey bars.  These bars were remarkably high for elementary school, but after one successful trip I was on my way back for a victory lap.  My hand slipped and I tried to cushion my fall.  A trip to the emergency room confirmed two fractured wrists.

It was a couple of weeks later when the incident happened.  Danny and I had just finished taking a bath and we were brushing our teeth getting ready for bed.  I cannot remember the actually board game that provided the tiddlywinks but I can remember their size….and taste.  For some reason, as we were clowning around Danny said, “Hey, why don’t you eat one of these?”  He was joking of course and there was no mal-intent, but as he put the quarter-sized plastic playing piece in my mouth something really strange occurred.  I swallowed it.  Then, the panic was on.  As I struggled to breath, my parents tried everything (except for the Heimlich Maneuver) to dislodge the obstruction.  I can still remember my older brother Joey grabbing me by the feet and shaking me upside down, all to no avail.

Here’s the thing.  Danny and I had a long standing deal.  We didn’t tell on each other.  We might use it as a bargaining chip sometime down the road, but we were certainly not going to rat each other out.  So, we made up a story.  In between gasps for air, we scrambled.  Both of my arms were in casts, so we used that to our advantage.  We made up the most unbelievable story, “I was reaching for the tiddlywink that was on the top shelf and it fell straight into my mouth!”  Here’s the funny part.  People believed us.  And they continued to believe us for the next decade. 

I don’t know what kind of sin must have been on Danny’s mind that rainy summer night at the crusade.  Certainly, it was more serious than tiddlywinks, but for some strange reason, there we were, right in the middle of the baseball field waiting for my brother to finish talking with a counselor.  We all got wet and it made me wonder what the big deal was.

So, the next night I resolved to pay attention.  The hymns were clearer. The ventriloquist made me cry and the preacher spoke straight to me.  Jesus died for me and my seven-year-old heart.

Every life decision and commitment comes down to this very foundational reality.  Jesus loves me immensely and is intimately involved in my life!

Power is out at our house

Power is out at our house, went out some time early this morning.   We awoke to the computer battery backup screaming at us. It's pretty normal.

For some reason our water tank is also empty.  That must mean that we have some kind of leak.  We just spent a small fortune repairing our well….so, who knows?

Almost 20 years ago, we were not adequately warned about this missionary reality.   Most days involve some kind of unexpected twist; power outage, no water, an hour-long line at the bank, a new beggar with a more convincing tale, internet inexplicably down, flat tires, friends with disastrous marital problems, dengue fever, robbery and road blocks for campaigning.  19 years later, nothing is simple.

In the middle of the mess, I often forget the privilege of sharing the love of Christ and the beauty of His gospel.  It’s so easy to fall into a life of complaining and complacency.  If you add a dose of loneliness or self-pity you can become completely paralyzed. Or I can.

My only solution could be thankfulness and generosity.  I could look around and see the wonderful way that God has provided and the ministry opportunities that we have been given.  I could praise God for the crazy difficulties that are somehow forcing me to mature a little.

I could passionately minister to the fledgling flock and give of myself with reckless abandon.  I could be generous without constantly being cynical. The love of Christ compels us…me.

Hey…the power is back on….water comes out of the faucet…Thank you,  Jesus….I wonder where the leak is….?

Forgive?

Nothing happens without forgiveness.  You cannot maintain a single human relationship without the continuous flow of forgiveness.

The same should be emphasized with regards to our relationship with God.  How could we maintain some resemblance of fellowship without the continuous flow of grace and mercy?  

Our relationship with God begins from a place of sin and the absence of relationship.  Resolution comes from the compassion of God, shown through the passion of Christ, His death on the cross and the victory of His resurrection. On the basis of this gospel He offers forgiveness, a cancelling of debt and the subsequent freedom.

So we are faced with a crisis of the will: A decision to be made, a loss to be suffered.  Should we seek our own form of justice and revenge?  Should we seek compensation for those harsh words and unfair treatment?  Certainly, Jesus could not have realistically expected us to “turn the other cheek”, to allow someone to get away with their sin.

Matthew 18:32 and 33 shouts at us all, “You wicked servant,’ he said, ‘I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to. Shouldn't you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?’”

Enough said.

Agustin and Maria…

Yesterday, we met Agustin and Maria…

A concerned neighbor came by the coffee shop a couple of days ago.  She was concerned about the living conditions of an elderly couple living near her street.  They are both in their 90s and live without any source of income.

This lovely lady was simply trying to get them one of our Ecocinas, the efficiency wood-burning stoves.  She was right; it is a great solution for a few of their problems.  So, we innocently agreed to visit the elderly pair to investigate their situation.  We were not prepared for the despair.

Doña Maria and Don Agustin are not really a couple.  More than a decade ago, he allowed her to come and live in his home since she had nowhere to go.  She helps take care of him.  He has been in a wheel chair since childhood, a victim of polio.   She was well known on the streets as a seller of cheese and cream.  She is adorable.  They both are…

Their roof does not really deserve the name.  It probably only slows down most of the water that enters every part of their home.  There are roots growing down from the dirt that has accumulated on the teja roof.  It feels like a cave.  There are catholic relics hanging on the walls along with the spider webs and trash bags.  Their floor is so wet and dirty that I am not sure if it is cement or simply the ground.

Their cooking fire was cold.  Dona Maria tried to convince me that she had cooked something during the day, but the evidence betrayed her.  I saw no evidence to suggest that they had eaten.

So, here’s the thing, I thought that I recognized his face, with his overwhelming beard.  His twisted hands made me think of something that I had seen before.   During the conversation with his neighbor, I realized that I had seen his face on an emotional video that someone posted a year ago.  He was THE Don Agustin, the guy who is making a helicopter out of throw-aways.

Later in the day, my friend, Noel, who grew up in that neighborhood, told me that everyone in that barrio had learned to ride a bike because Don Agustin had made a wooden bicycle several decades ago.  He also remembers earlier attempts at the helicopter.

I am convinced that we have to do something.  We must improve their living situations, their health and welfare.  Certainly, a community can pour a concrete floor and put on a new roof...provide some food and care.  The compassion of Christ must move us….

Check out the documentary made about Don Agustin:

http://vimeo.com/35545694

Missionary Vaccines

I confess.  I read Wikipedia looking for a simple definition.  I quote, “Vaccination is the administration of antigenic material (a vaccine) to stimulate an individual's immune system to develop adaptive immunity”.

If you wonder how my brain translates that, here are my own words, “if you give the body a little bit of something dangerous it will figure out a way to defend itself.  That way, you avoid the real thing.”

I think that short-term mission trips can sometimes act like vaccines.

When trips are done well, they stimulate discipleship relationships; they challenge a deeper walk with Christ and an increasing investment in the spread of God’s Kingdom throughout the world. They challenge current world views and bring about an awareness of the majority world.  They burst bubbles and challenge the selfishness of the human heart.

Kathee and I were dating when we went on our first trip to Central America in 1989 (enjoy the pic). The realities of rural Guatemala broke our hearts and showed us a field of ministry that we had not imagined.   Since 1994, we have been missionaries living and ministering here in Siguatepeque, Honduras.  Our hearts still break for the spiritual, emotional and physical needs around us.

When short-term trips are done in a mediocre way, Christian tourism, they may very well serve as vaccines against the real thing. We all long for real mission, real life-moving, life-changing purpose.  When we get a little taste, it should stimulate hunger for a greater life and move us to a greater purpose and commitment. 

However, when a mission trip is superficial it can have the opposite effect.   The travelling spectator may see this missionary life from a distance and assume that perception is reality.  No need to be challenged or changed.  The status quo is just fine.

However, you may need a booster shot each year to keep the dangerous stuff from really taking hold!