Back in January, our church hosted a group of prophetically-inclined brethren from a church near Chicago. It was an awesome few days of fantastic teaching and personal ministry. During the first night, one of the women on the team pointed at me and started sharing some spot-on things about who God has made me to be. It was very encouraging. After affirming by spiritual personality, so to speak, she shared something that I also felt comforting: that God was going to start bringing together all the seemingly random bits of my call together to form a tapestry that would finally make sense to me. I have never made sense to myself, which is one of my hugest struggles in life. All of my strengths, talents and gifts seem to not really go together, or rather, God seems to highlight certain ones at certain times while the others take a break. It's often quite frustrating for me. Upon hearing the promise of clarity that night, I relaxed a bit, knowing that God would soon bring some kind of grand revelation.
I'm still waiting.
As I contemplated the idea of writing an update here, images of my life started spinning around my mind like a lazy Susan. Should I write about the corn, the salsa, the mashed potatoes, the meatloaf, the mint chutney or the blackberry cobbler? There are so many little things going on, each one so incredibly flavorful in its own right, yet each one feeling incomplete on its own. I feel like God is giving me tastes of all different kinds of things, both satisfying and causing hunger. How is this possible?
This morning I woke up early to join two sisters from church to pray over a location where our church will be hosting a concert tonight. The town is celebrating its sesquicentennial (150 years) anniversary and each night of the week, a different concert is going on. The stages are being sponsored by Brugal Rum, and each night so far has been an alcoholic frenzy. On the property, which is probably a half-lot size, there are literally 8 alcohol booths, each one standing about 4 feet over from the next one. The stage itself is made up of plastic banners advertising Brugal Rum. Francisco, who I work with, is busy at work painting a huge backdrop to hang over these ads that announces God's love for the city. The church is bringing in 4 very well-known Christian Dominican music artists and some of the youth will be performing a powerful dance/drama. It is also pouring down rain. I give you this background to let you know a bit about what I am participating in here outside of work and also to share how praying over an outreach like this leaves me in the place of 'already, but not yet'. I can go with a few believers and in the name of Jesus, ask for souls to be liberated from the bondage of alcoholism and hopelessness. I can pray the tearing down of modern sacred pillars (Brugal Rum booths). I can proclaim the righteousness of God and the reign of His holiness over an area and in this way, I get a taste of the everlasting Kingdom. But, I still feel hungry. The concert hasn't happened yet. None of those who will come to the Lord tonight have yet come. Right now, someone who God plans to set free tonight is still bound. Those prayers that we prayed this morning have not yet found their release and I still carry within me that tension. I am hungry to see the outpouring of God's mercy in this place, knowing that the prayers that have gone forth in faith will bring this outpouring
And so goes the rest of my life here. As I set out to do things, whether in my quiet times with God or in ministry, I feel as though I am being both filled and poured out all at once. I feel satisfied and glad, yet starving for more. I feel I am in a perpetual state of holy angst where nothing makes sense, but all of it seems worthwhile. I like to have things orderly, set in place, confirmed and clear. There are decisions to be made that I feel I can't make because this merry-go-round of the Holy Spirit won't slow down for me to make a choice! My tendency to judge things as better, worse, more or less valuable, good or bad is being challenged to the utmost as God continues to show me that every single nook and cranny of His Kingdom has innate and eternal value. The minute before I try to set in stone something that makes sense to me, God comes and spins it all around, stopping it only when He wants it to and says, Amy, take a bite of this. And, just as I'm enjoying that bite and start to reach for another, he spins the selection around again and asks that I taste something else. They are all tasty and all nourishing, but each time I feel I'm about to be satisfied on one thing, he laughs and throws everything into a colorful whirl until I've tasted it all. Does this make any sense? If not, you know how I feel : )
And so, I'm teaching bi-monthly art classes in El Callejon to girls ages7-11; I'm painting some of my own prophetic art; I'm assisting Fran in the art school and helping some of our students make the transition from pen drawing to watercolors; Saturday nights I'm taking a discipleship class at church and am having to read huge portions of the Bible at a fairly rapid rate (in the last three weeks I've read Matthew thru Leviticus) as well as read a book in Spanish on the history of the DR and why the people are the way they are and then write a report on it (due next week); Monday nights I'm tutoring a new American teacher here with her Spanish; Monday mornings I am now prayer walking with my dear friend Elizabeth in the community where she leads a home group. So much is going on and each thing is so fulfilling to me. And yet, I know that it's for a time and a season.
I will soon have to make a decision regarding whether or not I will be staying here past my two year commitment. It is a decision I cannot make based on how well things or going or on how I feel in any given moment. I struggle because I know that whether I am here, in the States or in another country, God is there, working and I will get to partner with Him. I cannot place any kind of better/worse value on 'where' I am. If I could, it would make this decision easier. I would appreciate any prayers and/or wisdom if you feel so lead to share.
"Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think..."
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Sunday, September 7, 2008
The Old Man is Snoring
Rain, rain go away...
It's officially hurricane season. I think we've got some of Ike raining down on us, or then again, it could just be a random tropical storm. It will be raining almost constantly until January. Which brings me to avocados.
Now, avocados have nothing to do with the rain, it's just that I've been meaning to write about avocados for a while now, but just as I sat down to finally do it, I thought I might mention the fact that it's raining cats and dogs. Some dogs like to eat avocados. Back to the point...
Last year when I moved into this house, my roommate Amy, upon giving me a tour of our yard, pointed out the various fruit trees. "This one has some kind of fruit, I'm not exactly sure what kind it is yet; this one grows these big spiky-skinned things; this is an avocado tree that doesn't produce any fruit; this one--- wait a minute, did she say AVOCADO??? Those little green things that are traded for gold in California? Those precious little fruits that, when cut open, scooped out, mashed and mixed with other things makes one of the best foods ever invented by man, GUACAMOLE??? And it's growing in MY back yard!! Yum, oh yuminess, oh, sweet green goo of yumness. I just could not, would not tolerate the fact that she said this tree did not produce. It couldn't be! God did not make avocado trees to just stand there and torment me with promises of goodness. Later on that month, unbeknownst to my roomie, I went outside, laid hands on the trunk and prayed for God to bring forth fruit. "God, I'm not asking for a scorpion! I'm asking for avos and you promise in your word that if I ask anything in Jesus' name, you will give it! Bring forth fruit!" I did something similar a few months later, thinking about that parable where a king comes to eat fruit off a tree and it doesn't have any and then orders the gardner to chop it down and make room for fruit trees that work and the gardner makes him a deal: give it one more year. If it doesn't produce fruit at the end, I'll chop it. So, I prayed that prayer, asking God to give it another year to produce fruit. I also prayed the prayer in relation to Jarabacoa, proclaiming God's ability to form fruit out of death. Then I forgot all about it.
Sometime during the beginning of summer, I got a word from the Lord about the next season I'm about to enter: Lift up your eyes and see! The fields are white with harvest!
I started contending in prayer for that harvest, praying that our eyes, as workers here, would indeed look UP and see what God has prepared and not to let the enemy come and steal any part of it. Shortly after, as I was hanging out my laundry to dry on a nice sunny Sunday morning, I lifted up my eyes and, lo and behold, there were avocados growing on that tree!!! I am not kidding you. And not just one or two, like two or TEN! Amy and I danced a joyful jig to the Lord and have been waiting and waiting for them to ripen. We just picked about 6 of them yesterday, which should be ready to eat sometime this week.
God promised that if we have even the faith of a mustard seed, we could do great things. God cares about the harvest of souls that, to us, appear dead and worth chopping down. He wants us to press in, to have faith and to exercise that faith in praying His promises and awaiting the fruit that will come forth from those faithful prayers. He even cares that I love avocados so much.
Pray to God for the 'impossible', believing in His power and desire to do so, and watch Him bring it about.
We serve a living God.
Come on down and share in God's harvest with me!!!
Saturday, August 9, 2008
And the Vacation Begins...
Last night I said goodbye to the last team of the summer. Feeling exhausted, yet content, I drove home late with thoughts of vacation sugarplums already dancing in my head. I pulled up on the curb in front of my house, left the car idling and gracefully jumped out (I was wearing a dress) to unlock the sliding iron gate that borders our front yard. Our two dogs were whining happily in eager expectation of sniffing the tires of my jeep to see where I'd been. After I got them chained, I slid the gate open, only to have it get stuck a second later. I walked around the other side to figure out the problem. Our dogs were the problem. At the bottom of our iron gate, we have foot high panels of chicken wire held on by other wire to... why DO we have wire down there? Well, I didn't have time to contemplate the why. As of the last 5 months or so, our Dobermans have decided to dig a gigantic hole under this gigantic bush we have growing just inside the gate. Their belligerent digging has caused minor problems in the past with getting the gate open: huge rocks in the path or piles of dirt blocking the tracks the gate rides on. This time is was a bent-out-of-shape panel of chicken wire. For half an hour in very dim light, I tried pounding the darn thing back into place with a trowel we always have nearby to clear away other debris. It was too strong and I was too tired. I finally just lifted the gate off it's track and little by little moved it through the narrow opening. I rolled the car in, let the dogs off their chains, they sniffed the tires, I fell into bed.
So began my vacation week.
This morning I awoke (much earlier than I wanted to), had a leisurely morning starting a new book while drinking my first cup of vacation coffee. After a while I decided I needed to tackle the 'uh oh, the corrugated tube that drains the water from our washing machine to the great outdoors has holes in it and is now draining into our laundry room' problem. I took off the tube, looked at it, discovered the holes were made by voracious rats, and decided I could probably fix it with duct tape. Knowing we did not have duct tape, I nonetheless opened the 'kitchen drawer of randomness' in hopes God might have put some in there overnight. No such luck. However, I did spy a half-used tube of silicone that Amy and I had used to fix our front screen door a couple of months back. Desperation caused me to take out the knife. I shouldn't have done it. In the process of trying to pry open the top of the tube to perhaps get to some not-yet-dry plastic goo, I sliced open my left thumb. I quickly put it under running faucet water and cried. I knew I didn't have band-aids, so I wrapped it in paper towels, elevated my arm and thought about my mommy. Then I realized I had to get going to go meet my friend Daisy and go with her to the church's 'pulga' (yard sale) to buy clothes for the girls who live in El Callejon. So, I pulled myself together, grabbed my money, chained up the dogs and started to open the front gate. I then remembered I had not fixed the problem from the night before, I had just sort of worked around it. I studied the chicken wire praying it would miraculously disappear. It didn't. So, I decided to try what I did last night: lift up, push a little, let down. On the first go, one of the panels decided to come undone at one end. I undid the other end, ripped it off, pushed the gate open and then realized my thumb had opened up again and was bleeding all over the place. I think I said a bad word. I went back inside, got more paper towel, came back out, drove the car out onto the street, hopped out to close the gate and unchain the dogs. As I went to let Snickers off, he decided he might just want a bite of paper towel. I almost lost my thumb. I yelled at him, got in the car and took off.
In the ungodly heat of mid-morning, Daisy and I quickly went through the piles of kids clothes. "Erika. Noelia. Eh, Claudia, no, Kati, si, Kati." We held up clothes, trying to figure out who they'd fit. Fifteen minutes later I was back in my car and on my way into town to buy groceries and duct tape. The town was packed, there was no where to park, I may have said another bad word and then decided to go over to where my roommate is house sitting to see if they had any duct tape. After telling her my woes, I decided to go to the other market, park and walk around the corner to the one that sells the bread I like. It was sneaky, but I did it. Luckily the bread market didn't have the meat I wanted, so I actually did shop at the market I was parked in front of. I even bought a vacation bottle of grape soda. It would go great with the avocado, Camembert sandwich I was going to make on that yummy, crusty French bread I just bought. I started feeling better. When I got home, the gate slid open okay, Snickers didn't try to eat my hand and the pile of toothpicks that had gotten knocked over when I cut my thumb didn't bother me too much. I made my sandwich, popped in a dvd, and twisted the cap on my soda. Unbeknownst to me, it had rolled around a bit on the ride home and so proceeded to erupt all over my sandwich. They didn't go as well together as I originally thought.
I think I'm gonna go take a vacation nap.
So began my vacation week.
This morning I awoke (much earlier than I wanted to), had a leisurely morning starting a new book while drinking my first cup of vacation coffee. After a while I decided I needed to tackle the 'uh oh, the corrugated tube that drains the water from our washing machine to the great outdoors has holes in it and is now draining into our laundry room' problem. I took off the tube, looked at it, discovered the holes were made by voracious rats, and decided I could probably fix it with duct tape. Knowing we did not have duct tape, I nonetheless opened the 'kitchen drawer of randomness' in hopes God might have put some in there overnight. No such luck. However, I did spy a half-used tube of silicone that Amy and I had used to fix our front screen door a couple of months back. Desperation caused me to take out the knife. I shouldn't have done it. In the process of trying to pry open the top of the tube to perhaps get to some not-yet-dry plastic goo, I sliced open my left thumb. I quickly put it under running faucet water and cried. I knew I didn't have band-aids, so I wrapped it in paper towels, elevated my arm and thought about my mommy. Then I realized I had to get going to go meet my friend Daisy and go with her to the church's 'pulga' (yard sale) to buy clothes for the girls who live in El Callejon. So, I pulled myself together, grabbed my money, chained up the dogs and started to open the front gate. I then remembered I had not fixed the problem from the night before, I had just sort of worked around it. I studied the chicken wire praying it would miraculously disappear. It didn't. So, I decided to try what I did last night: lift up, push a little, let down. On the first go, one of the panels decided to come undone at one end. I undid the other end, ripped it off, pushed the gate open and then realized my thumb had opened up again and was bleeding all over the place. I think I said a bad word. I went back inside, got more paper towel, came back out, drove the car out onto the street, hopped out to close the gate and unchain the dogs. As I went to let Snickers off, he decided he might just want a bite of paper towel. I almost lost my thumb. I yelled at him, got in the car and took off.
In the ungodly heat of mid-morning, Daisy and I quickly went through the piles of kids clothes. "Erika. Noelia. Eh, Claudia, no, Kati, si, Kati." We held up clothes, trying to figure out who they'd fit. Fifteen minutes later I was back in my car and on my way into town to buy groceries and duct tape. The town was packed, there was no where to park, I may have said another bad word and then decided to go over to where my roommate is house sitting to see if they had any duct tape. After telling her my woes, I decided to go to the other market, park and walk around the corner to the one that sells the bread I like. It was sneaky, but I did it. Luckily the bread market didn't have the meat I wanted, so I actually did shop at the market I was parked in front of. I even bought a vacation bottle of grape soda. It would go great with the avocado, Camembert sandwich I was going to make on that yummy, crusty French bread I just bought. I started feeling better. When I got home, the gate slid open okay, Snickers didn't try to eat my hand and the pile of toothpicks that had gotten knocked over when I cut my thumb didn't bother me too much. I made my sandwich, popped in a dvd, and twisted the cap on my soda. Unbeknownst to me, it had rolled around a bit on the ride home and so proceeded to erupt all over my sandwich. They didn't go as well together as I originally thought.
I think I'm gonna go take a vacation nap.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Year in Review
I am not one of those people who is motivated by the setting of goals and accomplishing them. For me, success and fulfillment is measured by how many people I get to love. Today, as I celebrate my first year being on the mission field, thoughts of challenges overcome, everyday victories, and 'fruitful' seasons of ministry don't even come to mind. I don't care about these things. What I care about are the faces that are flashing through my mind as I think about my year in Jarabacoa. If it weren't for the people, being here wouldn't be worth it to me. So, here they are, the ones who have made a difference in my life and made being a missionary worth it (let it be known that many people aren't on here either because I don't have a photo or because my computer was too slow in loading!):
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
A Friend of the Bridegroom
"He who has the bride is the bridegroom; but the friend of the bridegroom, who stands and hears him, rejoices greatly because of the bridegroom's voice. Therefore this joy of mine is fulfilled. He must increase and I must decrease." John 3:29
John the Baptist was an influential man. Though he didn't dress, eat or act like 'normal' people, he was nonetheless respected and followed. The man had disciples and an incredible ministry. There John was, baptizing people who had heard his charismatic yet intense message and wanted to be changed, cleansed, prepared. People were traveling from all parts of Israel, even from surrounding nations to hear this prophet speak. His 'voice crying out in the wilderness' was convicting many people and he was seeing much success. Enter Jesus.
John can hardly contain himself. Excitedly he cries out to his followers: "Yeah! This is the guy I've been telling you about! You think I'm great?? I'm not even worthy to untie his shoelaces! He's the Lamb of God; he's come to take away all your sins! Follow him!"
Most of John's disciples took his advice and left his side to pursue the new guy. Some of the ones who stayed behind got together with some of their Jewish brothers, approached John and started tattle-telling on Jesus. "Hey, you know that guy, the one you were telling us about, yeah, well he's like taken over your job baptizing and everyone's following him now!"
I wish I had the same heart as John in this moment. Unlike me, this man was truly humble and not only knew his rightful place in the kingdom-- he rejoiced in it. He was just happy to hear his friend's voice. He knew that his specific ministry had been given to him by God and that it had been fulfilled. He let it go. I am more like those 'loyal' disciples that complained and whined.
Two days ago one of the American high school students who is here on outreach openly confessed for the first time years of sexual and emotional abuse she had endured under the roof of her mom's house. Stepfather, boyfriends, men parading in and out of her mom's broken life had all taken advantage of this precious girl. As deep, gut- wrenching sobs shook her whole body, the release of years and years of anger, fear and aloneness, I smiled in my heart and said, "Thank you, Lord, I can finally be used in the way I like best. " As I looked at the somewhat shocked and forlorn faces of the other 4 teens gathered around her, I rejoiced that all my years of training to minister to the broken could finally be put to use in this place. God had used me many times in the past to minister healing to the broken places of the heart. I was ready to share biblical words that would help restore. I was poised and ready to lay hands on her and speak mighty deliverance. What I was not ready for was the Holy Spirit to say, "Go get her some toilet paper to blow her nose and let the students minister to her."
What?????
After months of being in the hidden place with God, struggling to learn a new language, adapting to a new culture and not being able to use the gifts that God had let me use in the past, I was aching to minister in my own language, in a territory that is totally comfortable for me. My soul was clammering for the spotlight. But the Spirit would not let it be. I sat by in silence, handed her the toilet paper and watched these doe-eyed high schoolers get down and dirty with the love of Christ. They all hugged her, affirmed her and prayed mighty, encouraging prayers. I sat by silently and watched God build unity in the way that only He knows how to do. And though I was joyful that God had opened the door and had begun the healing process, part of me was like John's disciples saying, "Um, they don't know what they are doing. They aren't gonna do it right and she's not gonna get the complete oil change that she needs." I kept waiting for an opening when I could saunter in with my expert background in how to properly minister to those falling apart and there never was one. Praise God.
When God called John to prepare the way, he gave him quite a ministry. But when it was time for Jesus to take over, he sauntered into John's territory and-- took over. And that's what Jesus did with me. My job is to be in the place where God has called me. My job is to talk about Jesus and then just be there, standing by, hearing His voice as He saunters into my space and takes over.
Someone once told me that God was preparing me for a forerunner ministry. It sounds so exciting, you know, foraging ahead, fighting battles, proclaiming the name of the Lord, preparing the way for Jesus' return to earth. What I didn't take much time to consider was that a forerunner is just a nameless, faceless messenger who is sent in advance to prepare the way... yes through prayer and worship and battle and proclamation... but also one who must step aside once the King arrives. I am no one. A voice crying out in the wilderness. A forerunner's job is to know when to decrease and to truly rejoice when Jesus increases; when my tantalizing message about the profoundness of Christ becomes a living revelation to all those who've heard.
"...Yes, He is altogether lovely. This is my beloved and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem."
"Where has your lover gone, most beautiful of women? Which way has your lover turned, that we make look for him?" (Song of Solomon 5:16-6:1)
The goal is to sing his praises and then watch as others turn to follow after Him. The goal is for them to stop listening to you and start being intimate with Him.
Prepare the way.
Decrease that He may increase.
John the Baptist was an influential man. Though he didn't dress, eat or act like 'normal' people, he was nonetheless respected and followed. The man had disciples and an incredible ministry. There John was, baptizing people who had heard his charismatic yet intense message and wanted to be changed, cleansed, prepared. People were traveling from all parts of Israel, even from surrounding nations to hear this prophet speak. His 'voice crying out in the wilderness' was convicting many people and he was seeing much success. Enter Jesus.
John can hardly contain himself. Excitedly he cries out to his followers: "Yeah! This is the guy I've been telling you about! You think I'm great?? I'm not even worthy to untie his shoelaces! He's the Lamb of God; he's come to take away all your sins! Follow him!"
Most of John's disciples took his advice and left his side to pursue the new guy. Some of the ones who stayed behind got together with some of their Jewish brothers, approached John and started tattle-telling on Jesus. "Hey, you know that guy, the one you were telling us about, yeah, well he's like taken over your job baptizing and everyone's following him now!"
I wish I had the same heart as John in this moment. Unlike me, this man was truly humble and not only knew his rightful place in the kingdom-- he rejoiced in it. He was just happy to hear his friend's voice. He knew that his specific ministry had been given to him by God and that it had been fulfilled. He let it go. I am more like those 'loyal' disciples that complained and whined.
Two days ago one of the American high school students who is here on outreach openly confessed for the first time years of sexual and emotional abuse she had endured under the roof of her mom's house. Stepfather, boyfriends, men parading in and out of her mom's broken life had all taken advantage of this precious girl. As deep, gut- wrenching sobs shook her whole body, the release of years and years of anger, fear and aloneness, I smiled in my heart and said, "Thank you, Lord, I can finally be used in the way I like best. " As I looked at the somewhat shocked and forlorn faces of the other 4 teens gathered around her, I rejoiced that all my years of training to minister to the broken could finally be put to use in this place. God had used me many times in the past to minister healing to the broken places of the heart. I was ready to share biblical words that would help restore. I was poised and ready to lay hands on her and speak mighty deliverance. What I was not ready for was the Holy Spirit to say, "Go get her some toilet paper to blow her nose and let the students minister to her."
What?????
After months of being in the hidden place with God, struggling to learn a new language, adapting to a new culture and not being able to use the gifts that God had let me use in the past, I was aching to minister in my own language, in a territory that is totally comfortable for me. My soul was clammering for the spotlight. But the Spirit would not let it be. I sat by in silence, handed her the toilet paper and watched these doe-eyed high schoolers get down and dirty with the love of Christ. They all hugged her, affirmed her and prayed mighty, encouraging prayers. I sat by silently and watched God build unity in the way that only He knows how to do. And though I was joyful that God had opened the door and had begun the healing process, part of me was like John's disciples saying, "Um, they don't know what they are doing. They aren't gonna do it right and she's not gonna get the complete oil change that she needs." I kept waiting for an opening when I could saunter in with my expert background in how to properly minister to those falling apart and there never was one. Praise God.
When God called John to prepare the way, he gave him quite a ministry. But when it was time for Jesus to take over, he sauntered into John's territory and-- took over. And that's what Jesus did with me. My job is to be in the place where God has called me. My job is to talk about Jesus and then just be there, standing by, hearing His voice as He saunters into my space and takes over.
Someone once told me that God was preparing me for a forerunner ministry. It sounds so exciting, you know, foraging ahead, fighting battles, proclaiming the name of the Lord, preparing the way for Jesus' return to earth. What I didn't take much time to consider was that a forerunner is just a nameless, faceless messenger who is sent in advance to prepare the way... yes through prayer and worship and battle and proclamation... but also one who must step aside once the King arrives. I am no one. A voice crying out in the wilderness. A forerunner's job is to know when to decrease and to truly rejoice when Jesus increases; when my tantalizing message about the profoundness of Christ becomes a living revelation to all those who've heard.
"...Yes, He is altogether lovely. This is my beloved and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem."
"Where has your lover gone, most beautiful of women? Which way has your lover turned, that we make look for him?" (Song of Solomon 5:16-6:1)
The goal is to sing his praises and then watch as others turn to follow after Him. The goal is for them to stop listening to you and start being intimate with Him.
Prepare the way.
Decrease that He may increase.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
When He Steps In
What do we do when Jesus shows up in a place we kinda wish He wouldn't? This is a question sparked by our last week's staff Bible Study and I've been meditating on it ever since. The passage we studied was Luke 5:1-11. The fishing disciples had been out ALL NIGHT casting their nets, bringing up nothing. In early morning, they pulled back to shore, unloaded and were starting to clean their nets. Tired, probably hungry, feeling discouraged.
In walks Jesus. In walks 'multitudes' of people, invading your space. You're kneeling down, using a somewhat dull knife to scrape old smelly fish scales off your hands, when a shadow passes over you. Squinting, you look up and there hovering over you is this man you've heard about, slight in posture, browned by the sun, a sparse beard-- nothing noteworthy, yet who has a commading presence. He tells you He needs to use your boat. For some reason your body obeys. You and some of your mates step in with this familiar stranger and push off from shore a bit. People are thronging, grasping, calling out. The man in your boat starts to speak. A hushing silence on shore. The rumbling in your stomach fades into the sound of his voice, your heavy eyelids are no longer weighing you down. You are moved in some inexplicable way, his words rising and falling as the gentle waves lap against the side of your boat. Conscious that your God-fearing father is nearby fuming at the words of this--prophet? you massage your already arthiritic hands and contemplate what's being said.
Suddenly the crowd is being sent on its way, your hunger pains come back and your eyelids, once again, threaten early dreams. You are aching to leave, nay run, from this place, to find solace in the arms of a wife who hadn't heard. To bury your head under blankets that will lull away the change that has started to occur. But this man, this irrationaly rational man, turns to YOU and says, 'Push out for deeper water'. Frustrated, tired, confused...yet you set out. The man's silence unnerves you and you try with all your might to gain back all you know you just lost. You roll back your sleeves, puff out your chest, bark out a few orders to your friends. And then, this skinny, dark Hebrew man whose obviously never spent a night of fishing in his life tells you to cast your net. This is just too much. You look at him bewildered, angry and arrogantly remind him that you spent all night expertly fishing and there ain't a fish out there. Yet, because he said to, you'll do it. With aching muscles and disdain in your heart, you lift your freshly cleaned, heavy net over the side of the boat. What's happening? You start to lose your balance as your humble fishing boat starts violently thrashing around in the water. Help me lift! you cry out to your astonished co-workers. The once empty net, now breaking its seams with fresh catch barely makes it back into the boat. You fall down is astonishment and horror at the feet of this man, prophet, king. Get away from me!! I am sinful! Somehow your sinking ship makes it back to shore. Someone's counting how many fish there are. Your whole world is swirling around your head as your heart pounds its way out of your chest. The man speaks. "From now on I will make you a fisher of men."
What do you do when God steps into your reality, your job, your fatigue, your hunger, your ministry? What do you do when you have been working endless hours with no fruit, when you have moved on to other things, when you've made plans to sleep, to eat, to travel, to whatever... and the Holy Spirit says, "Hey, I need to use you for a little while longer. I need your job, your resources, your time, your energy, your strength, so that I can speak to these people invading your 'space'. And then after that, I want you to work some more in the area that isn't bringing forth finance, or fruit. In fact, I want you to leave this shore and the hope of rest and push out even farther than you were before. What's more, I want to break your pride and your self-sufficiency by showing you I can do what you spend your whole life doing, in about 2 seconds. And with the blessing of abundance that I bring to you, I'm going to change the course of your life and take you even further away from your comfort zone."
Just five minutes before our Bible Study started, I was sitting in a secluded area, trying to hold back tears of fatigue and frustration, angry at God for bringing me here, reminding him that I am an introvert who needs lots of quiet to create and refuel, telling Him that I can't take it anymore, fearing that if someone approached me in that moment they would see the sinful monster I really am. Knowing that I couldn't run home and hide under my blankets, I asked God for strength and grace just to make it through the next two hours. In dry obedience I worshipped in Spanish. The Holy Spirit commandeered my voice to sing praises to Him. And then this passage of Scripture...
The questions we were asked to answer were: What is your shore? What are the things that keep you from leaving shore? Once you do leave shore, what are the obstacles that keep you from continuing in obedience?
In my soul I cringed. My heart cried out, "Oh God! I am sinful!" Truly, truly, I cling to shore. I cling to comfort, I cling to dreams, I cling to my temperment, I cling to things I don't have. Once I follow, sometimes grudgingly, in obedience, my heart is often full of complaint, full of excuses, full of dread. I count the seconds until work is over. I fantasize about food, about sleep. I don't trust God.
Everyday my faith gets challenged. Do I really believe on Him? Do I really want Him to take over? Do I really think His ways are better than mine? When He enters my boat to do what He wants to do, do I rejoice? Do I welcome Him and pray that His Word saves the throngs of those listening? Do I with bright eyes, say "Sure Lord! Let's go do deeper waters and do the impossible?"
Usually not. But because of His faithfulness and love for me; because He knows me and wants better things for me, He continues to pursue me. He continues to climb in my boat and ask me to shove off into deeper water. Because He is confident in himself and knows that my tired, aching, weary self needs what He has; needs what He is.
He doesn't look at our weakness, our physical limitations, our talents or abilities. He always sees who we are in Him and loves to bring the natural into the supernatural. When we are broken down and at the end of our rope, He sees the door opening for miraculous opportunity.
May God reach into you, into those places that you believe you still own, grab hold of your heart and take you into uncharted waters where eternity meets the temporal and magic happens.
In walks Jesus. In walks 'multitudes' of people, invading your space. You're kneeling down, using a somewhat dull knife to scrape old smelly fish scales off your hands, when a shadow passes over you. Squinting, you look up and there hovering over you is this man you've heard about, slight in posture, browned by the sun, a sparse beard-- nothing noteworthy, yet who has a commading presence. He tells you He needs to use your boat. For some reason your body obeys. You and some of your mates step in with this familiar stranger and push off from shore a bit. People are thronging, grasping, calling out. The man in your boat starts to speak. A hushing silence on shore. The rumbling in your stomach fades into the sound of his voice, your heavy eyelids are no longer weighing you down. You are moved in some inexplicable way, his words rising and falling as the gentle waves lap against the side of your boat. Conscious that your God-fearing father is nearby fuming at the words of this--prophet? you massage your already arthiritic hands and contemplate what's being said.
Suddenly the crowd is being sent on its way, your hunger pains come back and your eyelids, once again, threaten early dreams. You are aching to leave, nay run, from this place, to find solace in the arms of a wife who hadn't heard. To bury your head under blankets that will lull away the change that has started to occur. But this man, this irrationaly rational man, turns to YOU and says, 'Push out for deeper water'. Frustrated, tired, confused...yet you set out. The man's silence unnerves you and you try with all your might to gain back all you know you just lost. You roll back your sleeves, puff out your chest, bark out a few orders to your friends. And then, this skinny, dark Hebrew man whose obviously never spent a night of fishing in his life tells you to cast your net. This is just too much. You look at him bewildered, angry and arrogantly remind him that you spent all night expertly fishing and there ain't a fish out there. Yet, because he said to, you'll do it. With aching muscles and disdain in your heart, you lift your freshly cleaned, heavy net over the side of the boat. What's happening? You start to lose your balance as your humble fishing boat starts violently thrashing around in the water. Help me lift! you cry out to your astonished co-workers. The once empty net, now breaking its seams with fresh catch barely makes it back into the boat. You fall down is astonishment and horror at the feet of this man, prophet, king. Get away from me!! I am sinful! Somehow your sinking ship makes it back to shore. Someone's counting how many fish there are. Your whole world is swirling around your head as your heart pounds its way out of your chest. The man speaks. "From now on I will make you a fisher of men."
What do you do when God steps into your reality, your job, your fatigue, your hunger, your ministry? What do you do when you have been working endless hours with no fruit, when you have moved on to other things, when you've made plans to sleep, to eat, to travel, to whatever... and the Holy Spirit says, "Hey, I need to use you for a little while longer. I need your job, your resources, your time, your energy, your strength, so that I can speak to these people invading your 'space'. And then after that, I want you to work some more in the area that isn't bringing forth finance, or fruit. In fact, I want you to leave this shore and the hope of rest and push out even farther than you were before. What's more, I want to break your pride and your self-sufficiency by showing you I can do what you spend your whole life doing, in about 2 seconds. And with the blessing of abundance that I bring to you, I'm going to change the course of your life and take you even further away from your comfort zone."
Just five minutes before our Bible Study started, I was sitting in a secluded area, trying to hold back tears of fatigue and frustration, angry at God for bringing me here, reminding him that I am an introvert who needs lots of quiet to create and refuel, telling Him that I can't take it anymore, fearing that if someone approached me in that moment they would see the sinful monster I really am. Knowing that I couldn't run home and hide under my blankets, I asked God for strength and grace just to make it through the next two hours. In dry obedience I worshipped in Spanish. The Holy Spirit commandeered my voice to sing praises to Him. And then this passage of Scripture...
The questions we were asked to answer were: What is your shore? What are the things that keep you from leaving shore? Once you do leave shore, what are the obstacles that keep you from continuing in obedience?
In my soul I cringed. My heart cried out, "Oh God! I am sinful!" Truly, truly, I cling to shore. I cling to comfort, I cling to dreams, I cling to my temperment, I cling to things I don't have. Once I follow, sometimes grudgingly, in obedience, my heart is often full of complaint, full of excuses, full of dread. I count the seconds until work is over. I fantasize about food, about sleep. I don't trust God.
Everyday my faith gets challenged. Do I really believe on Him? Do I really want Him to take over? Do I really think His ways are better than mine? When He enters my boat to do what He wants to do, do I rejoice? Do I welcome Him and pray that His Word saves the throngs of those listening? Do I with bright eyes, say "Sure Lord! Let's go do deeper waters and do the impossible?"
Usually not. But because of His faithfulness and love for me; because He knows me and wants better things for me, He continues to pursue me. He continues to climb in my boat and ask me to shove off into deeper water. Because He is confident in himself and knows that my tired, aching, weary self needs what He has; needs what He is.
He doesn't look at our weakness, our physical limitations, our talents or abilities. He always sees who we are in Him and loves to bring the natural into the supernatural. When we are broken down and at the end of our rope, He sees the door opening for miraculous opportunity.
May God reach into you, into those places that you believe you still own, grab hold of your heart and take you into uncharted waters where eternity meets the temporal and magic happens.
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