Sunday, November 14, 2010

for His glory

as i was getting a well-over-due pedicure yesterday evening, my sister texted me a sweet story about how her own well-groomed toes caught the attention of a sweet girl in line at Disney earlier that day. the girl, about 9 or 10, was very ill. hair-less and wheelchair-bound, she and her entourage wore pink shirts that read "team madeline." she complimented my sister on the design on her toes, and the two began to make small talk. madeline was a sweet girl from texas, and like many texans, told my sister that it was somewhere she needed to come visit.

after engaging in just a short conversation, my sister was heartbroken over this girl. she texted me the story and asked that i would pray for her. even though she has seen many sick children (her own best friend's daughter is still in a coma from a freak playground accident years ago), something was different about madeline. something that gave her chills and brought tears to her eyes. in the midst of her sickness, she was happy; and she was okay with being sick.

my sister told me the story and asked me to pray for madeline. she had been touched by her story, and wanted my prayers so that this little one would not die.

as i began to pray for dear madeline last night, i felt like the Lord revealed a lot to me in my unscripted prayer to Him. so often we question why young, innocent children have to suffer; why they don't get the shot at life that we have been so graciously given. as i interceded for healing on madeline's behalf, i realized how the glory of the Lord had come full-circle.

our God, the Lord and Creator of the universe, revealed to Abraham all of the stars in the sky. He knew exactly how many there are; He placed them there. we are told in the Bible that He knitted us in our mother's womb. He has numbered our breaths and the hairs on our head. He knows the perfect balance to our healthy body, and if He so chooses, He could breathe perfected life into Madeline's tiny frame.

but just as He's numbered our breaths, He also knows our hearts intimately. He knows what we can handle, and who can handle what. He knows that Madeline can, and is handling this, and with just grace and joy. and in that, she is touching the lives of unsuspecting strangers in line at a Disney theme park.

Illness and disease and pain are not how God intended for us to live, but they are consequences of the Fall; of the original sin that set us apart from God thousands or millions of years ago. sin entered this world to take the glory from God and we have constantly grappled with how to control it and destroy it without getting caught in it's death-grip.

this illness could have very easily, and in my mind, justifiably-so, left Madeline embittered and disenfranchised, even at her early age. but God has used the suffering of this little girl to bring joy to a fallen world, to bring others closer to Him, to even have my sister reach out for prayer. the glory is His.

as just such a small, finite part of the master-plan of an infinite God, our tiny brains do not have the capacity to understand the webbed-workings of His hand. to be honest, even if i could, i likely wouldn't choose to, because to understand the complexity of a God that manages the lives of billions of people that have been woven together through Him throughout history-- woah; i would not be able to leave my room trying to understand that majesty of it all. because of that, i know that i can not know why He chooses to work in the way He does. is it fair that Madeline or children around the world are sick and dying and don't get the same shot in life that we have been given? absolutely not. is it heartbreaking? even to the Lord, i'm certain. but even in all of it, i trust that He knows far better than i do. that His plans are purposed and righteous. would i be as courageous and joyful as precious Madeline? i certainly hope so; although i couldn't imagine much a tougher thing to do. above all, how we live and act and react is what brings glory to God; and in light of her situation, with only yesterday's flash-vignette of her joy-through-suffering, i would say she is doing just that.

i ask you as you read this, if you read this, to pray for Madeline. i don't know a thing about her, aside from she's very sick, from Texas, likes nail polish and has a radiating joy about her. pray for a miracle, pray for grace and mercy, pray for healing. and pray for strength, that no matter what may come of this situation, that she would have the courage and strength to remain joyful, that no scheme of the enemy could ever steal her joy.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

haiti is not a place.

each sunday at church, our pastor's wife, kim, leads the congregation in prayer. her prayers, sensitive and sincere, are unlike any prayers i've ever heard. the gratitude with which she speaks, the sensitivity to the issue and to the Spirit are remarkable. i remember the first sunday night service i went to as a visitor. wrestling with a.d.d. and an anxious mind, her often long and thoughtful prayers were a challenge for my speeding mind to compete with. but i have grown to love our prayer time at TVC. its very rare for my eyes to remain dry after bringing the needs and the praises, the frustrations and the honest vulnerability of our church family before our loving and ever-present Father. but this morning, as kim prayed, lifting up the nation of haiti, i became undone.

you see, for me, haiti is not a distant country in which the idea of suffering and poverty come to the forefront of our mind at the mention of its name. it has not been reduced to a 4th-world nation, so corrupted and backwards and even primitive in some parts of its day-to-day life. it is more than a collapsed government, a desperate people-- rattled by disease and disaster, impoverished, bleeding, grieving, alone. it is not reduced to the images of fear and desperation, death and dying, that stream across our tv screens with a breaking news ticker reporting that more lives have been lost to earthquake/floods/cholera/hurricanes. and it certainly is not just another port-of-call on a spring cruise itinerary.

no; haiti is more than all of these things. for me, haiti is a place in my heart in which suffering was met with hope (relevant in the lives of the citizens as well as my own life). haiti is a closed-eye memory, greeted with a perma-grin, and left with salt-stained cheeks and a trail of tears so deep God might just have to call a second Noah. haiti was a season of my life in which the presence of the Lord was so thick, and my relationship was so strengthened and close that not the 80-degree sweaty nights nor the 100 degree-and-feverish days could rip my faith from His faithfulness.

haiti is a vision of a paradoxical paradise, paired with the evil sins and sufferings of hell. juxtaposed within a peripheral view of heart-melting sunsets over the caribbean is the sin of the world washed upon it's shores. its a place in which worth and value are found in extravagant love and relationship, not in what you have. a place in my life in which suffering for the Lord took on new meaning; and the same suffering that brought me to a sweet-spot in my faith, left me crying in surrender on the living room floor of our humble "apartment", begging for the Lord to take the cup. haiti is a dark pace of spiritual strongholds, where demons and voodoo are real and thick as the humidity; yet a place in which i experienced so much true freedom, even within the constraints that we were living. haiti is a place in which i felt the discipline of the Lord and His loving kindness in one fell swoop as He simultaneously bought me to my knees in humility and cradled me in his grace and mercy. haiti is a shooting star, witnessed by only a few lucky ones that happen to be gazing in the right direction at the perfect moment.

i lived in haiti for just 4 months; longer than most people would choose to sacrifice comfort in the name of God's glory, yet not long enough to make me feel like a true-blue missionary. regardless of your perspective on the length of time, i know how those 4 months radically reformed and shaped my faith and relationship with Jesus Christ. i returned stateside with a secured sense of His love for me and for His children. i came home with a discipline in seeking Him wholeheartedly. one that was challenged by the freedom from set schedules of corporate worship, intercession, or bible study; yet nonetheless spurring on a passion and longingness for the Lord that only increased my motivation to worship Him in "normal," daily life. haiti brought me back to the cross in a way that felt like rebirth; a sweet, sweet revival in my heart granting fresh hope in His faithfulness and provision.

maybe it is selfish: to think of haiti as how relevant it was to my faith, personally; and not the place of insurmountable devastation that it is made out to be (and rightfully so) in newscasts and mission-trip descriptions in church bulletins. i sincerely gave 4 months of service to a nation that desperately needed it; but what i received back from haiti was far more than 4 months of income or the time i invested seemed to be valued. i came back with no souvenirs; just the radiance of the Lord, the fragrance of His faithful provision, a deep-seeded passion after His face and His kingdom, and a love for a nation that needs love lavished upon them.

i often stand speechless about the things i experienced in my time there. the love, the beauty, the suffering. the relationships and eternal friendships that, unbeknownst to them, have irreversibly shaped my faith and life. the intimacy of the Holy Spirit, the power of the presence of the Most High. the pain of poverty, the devastation of disease, demons and death. yet, the Hope of nations. i've tried to talk about it, but i often find myself alone in my thoughts because its hard to relate to a situation you were not a part of.

it took an earthquake to reduce a nation to rubble, in order for it to grab the attention of the world. it took an earthquake to demolish my old foundations, and call me to a sturdy foundation, rooted in Christ's grace. i am humbled, and left in awe of His power.

haiti is not merely just a 4th-world nation. it is the revelation of God's love and mercy, so strong, that at the smallest memory, i am reduced to tears, prayers, and praise over a time of my life so formidable, that nothing aside from God's glory and blessing can i attribute as to why He chose me to go serve. as Kim prayed for this tiny nation this morning, i became undone. it was as if she was praying for my family, for generations before and after me, for my inheritance. the longer i am home, the more i realize how deeply connected i am with Haiti through the Kingdom of God. this is not a love affair with His creation. it is a partnership, in which the more I gave, the more of Him I received. haiti is not a place, nor a distant memory. haiti is a reminder of God's promises, fulfilled and yet to be seen.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

blanc

reading my bible tonight was like looking back on a dated photograph, closing my eyes, and being ever present in the snapshot as it was unfolding.

1 peter 1:2 tells us that the epistle was written to foreigners dispersed in these western asian lands, missionaries. it was affirming them that they were placed in these spots, that God knows them and chose them. that they are made holy through the Spirit, and as a result, have obeyed the Lord.

softly closing my eyes, i'm laying on that foam-core mattress, surrounded by mosquito nets and 20 eager mosquitos hoping my elbow touches the net. i'm sweating, i'm frustrated, and i'm likely doubting. depending on the day, its highly possible i was crying; if not from exhaustion, from the sweet grace and mercy of the Lord.

and then i'm reading 1 Peter, and realizing how true this verse was for me. there I was; a foreigner. in this land that I was placed in. and because of my obedience, the Lord was cleansing me and making me holy. wow. revelation. such a sweet moment of affirmation that i was smack dab in the middle of God's plan for my life.

opening my eyes, smiling, and fighting back a joyful tear, i return to the Family Room, surrounded by 50 or so church members in our 5-week study on 1 Peter, here in Nashville. the room was warm, from the heater combatting the pre-winter temperatures. i smile, reminiscently on the scripture that once reminded me that I, a foreigner, was exactly where God intended; only this time, regretfully realizing it did not currently apply.