Category: Hope

Beyond Our Understanding

Last night our oldest began to get teary-eyed when I announced bedtime was nearing. He’s still getting into the swing here, you know, since he was only placed here two days ago. Oh wait… did I forget to mention that?

Oh yeah, two days ago we got a phone call a little after 1p and added two new members to our family by 7p. Yep, 6 hours that I’ll never forget. The day had felt so normal. And when I was given the info over the phone I just knew “yes” was the only answer. It was our step of obedience that we’d been praying about for 1 year and seven months from that first heart-pricking. And in one afternoon we met them… the boys that have made us “never the same” and “never wanting to go back” all in one.

He’d cried himself to sleep the first two nights, missing his Mom. Rightfully so. I just agreed with him. It is not fair. I wish I could tell him when she’d come for him. I wish I knew if she’d ever come for him. I ran my fingers through his hair. Nits don’t hold water to love. He’s worth the risk.

Then last night came. And the story emerged. Too much seen. Violence. An emergency phone call. Fear.

I wish I could take it away from him. I wish I could blot out those images that haunt him… I wish I could replace them with trips to the park and Saturday morning cartoons.

Old words drew more tears to his eyes. His bottom lip quivered as he tried to regain self-control, failing. He confided the source of his nightmares… his anxiety about sleeping. His insecurity in what he should really believe.

I asked him if he felt safe here. He answered quickly with assurance. I wondered if that assurance would hold water right after a nightmare.

We prayed. And I stroked his hair more.

I just wish I could take it all away for him.

But I can’t.

But I know who has sheltered him. Who has guarded as much innocence as can be left after all he’s seen. I know who has stood in the gap, shielding him from so much so that he can lose himself in a bad joke, run in reckless abandonment through the house, and blast helicopters with laser beams right before they catapult to the living room carpet.

And all I can do is say thank you. Thank you, Lord, on his behalf.

And then I can just lead him to Your feet, in prayer.

…

Prayer for a peace beyond our understanding.

– Love that boy.

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Music Monday: When the Saints

“When the Saints” by Sara Groves:

I don’t think it could be said better.

This world is so full of sin and injustice.

The only hope is Jesus.

But how will they hear if no one tells them?

…

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Openness

As Christmas time has drawn near, I found it fitting that our next Adventure Missions novel be “Lottie Moon” from the Christian Heroes: Then and Now series by Janet and Geoff Benge.

I have heard the name Lottie Moon passed around the Baptist church and even stamped on their Christmas offering, but had never personally read an account of the missionary’s life. Most are familiar with Lottie’s bold letters detailing the realities of the conditions faced in the late 1800’s and early 1900’s of Chinese missionary work. Lottie’s frank depictions of the disease and hardships mixed with her perseverance for Christ inspired many Christians into the mission field during her forty-one years of work in China. I wanted to share an excerpt with you from one of the last chapters of the book.

Where we pick up in the chapter, the Baptist Foreign Missions Board’s budget fell short of $56,000 in 1912 and therefore they were unable to send more funds and missionaries to aid in the work in China.

“The needs of the local people, however, were great because of the continuing famine, and Lottie was unsure what to do… Given the crisis, Lottie decided that every penny not spent on her was a penny she could give to help someone in need. Her old cook still made meals, but Lottie preferred to go out into the yard and give her portion of food to some passing emaciated child rather than eat it herself. Slowly, and without anyone realizing it, Lottie Moon was beginning to starve herself so that she could feed others.

By the time one of her fellow missionaries noticed what she was doing, Lottie weighed only fifty pounds. “

She was immediately sent off to a fellow missionary Dr. who decided that the best thing for Lottie was to return to the US to receive proper care for her 73 year old frail body.

“On December 13, 1912, Lottie was carried aboard the Manchuria, which was bound for San Francisco via Japan… Once Lottie was safely in bed in her cabin (on the ship), Lottie’s trunk, which had accompanied her on earlier journeys home, was placed at the foot of the bed. In fact, the trunk was empty. Lottie had given away everything she owned to needy Chinese people and had brought the trunk along only for appearances when she arrived in America.”

So why do we take a Lottie Moon offering at Christmas time?

Lottie Moon died on her return voyage to the US… she died on Christmas Eve, 1912.  The annual Christmas Offering for Foreign Missions was titled in Lottie’s honor during the year of 1913 and later in 1918 it was permanently renamed in tribute of Lottie Moon’s devotion. The missionary who was to accompany Lottie Moon to America and witnessed her last breath, Cynthia Miller, penned in the final sentence of her account of Lottie’s final journey,

“It is infinitely touching that those who work hardest and make the most sacrifices for the Master should suffer because those in the homeland fail to give what is needed.”

Her trunk and her frail body spoke and speak volumes of her heart for the lost and dying world.

May we have such an open heart in us.

– Praying we meet our goal for Missions giving this year… that more would be called brothers and sisters in the Kingdom.

*** Quotations from “Lottie Moon: Giving Her All for China” by Janet and Geoff Benge pages 194, 197, 200. Copyright 2001 by YWAM Publishing.

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