Category: willing hands

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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The Click of the Track

It’s like sitting at the top of the roller-coaster hill: the excitement, the unknown, the holding your breath before the rush… just waiting for the back of the train to push you over and the wildly wonderful ride to really begin.

Tomorrow when our county worker comes we will be notifying her that we’re ready to take a placement. Then we’ll be waiting (maybe for only a few days, only God knows) to see who God invites into our home through a foster placement phone-call. It could be before Christmas, or maybe afterward. But regardless, our hearts are and have been opened to sharing our lives because of the Greatest Gift of All coming down to visit us… in the depths of our very beings. Who knows what baggage they will carry, what hurt or what loss. But Jesus has and will continue to compel us to love deeper and walk this road with the American orphan.

We love you, precious child (or children) from a depth we did not create, but Christ created in us.  And we have so prayed over your coming.

Please… feel welcome, even if only for a short stay on your journey… come in and rest. You are safe here. You are so loved.

– God, please help us lean on You throughout this journey of loving the American orphan. And if it would be Your will, please bring a child home to stay, should they need a family. Lord, please give us the strength to bless and release and exercise forgiveness, should we get the opportunity to come alongside a broken family as they learn how to parent, love and protect. And please, Lord, I pray for our girls… God that You would open all of our hearts to Jesus along this path. Thank You for Your Hope and the opportunity to come alongside the American orphan, learning what it is to daily love a child (or children)…. from right where they are. Please help us to feel Your direction when the phone-call or phone-calls come in. May we say yes when You desire it and not only when we feel it’s the safest or most comfortable move. Please, Lord, I pray… speak and help us to obey with joy. I love You. In Jesus’ Name.

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It Caught Me

There was something in her stale eyes, dirt-clod mouth and blank expression that caught me.

One of those messages on facebook hit me this morning as I scrolled through my friends’ thanksgiving gratitude posts. You know, those “hit share if you feel some emotion” posts with someone’s story and a picture. Seeing so many of those things posted on my wall, I usually just breeze past them – maybe I’m just a victim of over-sharing. But I couldn’t scroll past this one. It hit me as such a stark contrast.

An eerie expression of a buried baby, with only her face uncovered. My stomach churned. [And thus is why I am choosing not to attach the story to this post.] A discomfort made me read the attached story below the picture. I was almost drawn to that painful terror, praying for the evidence of some hope in the storyline.

The story unfolded about an Egyptian father (self-proclaimed Muslim) who buried his two daughters (8 years old and an infant) alive beside his recently murdered wife whom he caught reading the Bible. The children reported, when discovered 15 days later, that “A man wearing shiny white clothes, with bleeding wounds in his hands, came every day to feed us.” Even explaining that the man woke up the children’s mother to nurse the baby. The eight year old identified the shining white man as Jesus on national television, broadcast to a predominantly Muslim nation.

While this story could be a testimony of Christ’s miracle, the repetitive image of a discarded life was etched into my mind. The horror of it all. Those stale eyes, dirt-clod mouth and that blank expression…

Maybe it’s because I see how easily she erupts in a radiant smile. Maybe it’s because I delight in her two month old coos. And the light in her eyes. Those wiggling arms and legs as she spots Matt and I coming near. Her delight. Her utter joy. And the beauty in her eyes…

And then to see this little one’s face… the distrust and broken pain in her listless figure.

I don’t need to watch horror movies, there is living horror all around us. People can do such terrible things to each other. Sin can sure corrupt in unimaginable ways. And while the depth of the pain, hurt and despair can feel endless, my heart yearns for the rescuing arms of Christ. I don’t ask to be rescued from witnessing the monstrosity in this world… no, but the depths of my soul groans and yearns for a rescuing Savior who marches into that brothel and grabs up His bride.

The inner needs for God’s justice for those who have been cast aside as unwanted and expendable…

“Oh that You would rend the heavens and come down (today), that the mountains would tremble before You! As when fire sets twigs ablaze and causes water to boil, come down to make Your name known to Your enemies and cause the nations to quake before You!” – Isaiah 64:1

 

*** I was informed by my dear aunt that this story in itself was reportedly untrue. While this certainly makes my heart feel better regarding the poor lives of two innocent children, the reality that things like this happen in the world of child abuse and sinful acts parents do to “the least of these” is very much true in this world. And while this picture may not have been attached to a true story, the picture of a child’s face being found buried in the ground is sadly more common than we may want to admit. Again, I am relieved that this story was not true, but cannot rest in the naivety that these kinds of stories do not exist. It’s just that these kinds of monstrosities tend to not be widely publicized, just as mass genocide is not easily found in history textbooks.

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Thanksgiving

God, thank You for a country where I don’t fear for my girls’ physical safety throughout the day and at night.

God, thank You for a community where I can leave laundry on the line and toys out in my yard and they’re still there in the morning.

God, thank You for the freedom to read books about struggles that are so far removed from me.

God, thank You for safety and Your hand of protection on my family.

God, thank You that when the burglar broke in through the nursery window, entering and exiting through the girls’ room last May no one was harmed. Thank You for allowing the girls to sleep through it all and be oblivious to the danger You saved them from. Thank You that they still sleep soundly and safely in their room to this day.

God, thank You for a government that even in it’s sinfulness, still stands on most terms of protecting life and governing those who threaten the quality of life.

God, thank You for sparing my direct family from direct involvement in the utter destruction and soul-ripping pains of human trafficking. We didn’t get to pick where we were born, so thank You for this undeserved blessing.

God, thank You for sparing us, thus far, from the utter horrors of child soldiers, sexual abuse, torture, in-country combat war, abandonment, violence, rape, slavery and so many of the other ways mankind can find to inflict terror upon each other. Lord, don’t let me take it for granted that You have spared us from this, thus far. Please don’t let me get lost in my little world of blessing that I’d become so sheltered from the pains around this world… and please help me to fight the real battles, leaving the civil arguments amidst warm houses filled with more than we could ever need. Lord, please help me to run HARD after You, promoting Your justice to save us, mankind, from ourselves.

God, thank You so much for ALL that You have given me and opened my eyes to.

Now, Lord, help me to use that wisdom to fight the good fight, win the race and keep the faith.

You are more than enough.

Where You lead me, I will follow.

I love You, Lord.

– Amen.

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Ninepence’s Less

I sat down to read the usual Adventure Missionary reading while the girls fell asleep. Hannah, who had waited patiently for her lunch, snuggled in for her feeding as I rocked, read and fed. Rachael and Abi laid silently in their beds, initially twiddling a finger here and there and later fast asleep.

I love reading the Christian Heroes: Then & Now series to the girls. I love that in one effort my little ones get to fall asleep to my voice, have a specific and daily set-aside time to hear the testimony of heroes of the faith, and that I get the privilege to soak in some “beyond picture books” reading.

I read this today and it really resounded in my heart:

Gladys realized that she could not leave the little girl to possibly die in the hands of such a heartless person. She stopped and turned and stared at the woman. “I don’t have that much cash, but I will give you what I have in my pocket.”

The woman smiled slyly. “And how much would that be?” she asked.

Gladys fished around in her jacket pocket and pulled out a few copper cash coins, equal to ninepence in English money. She held the coins out on her open palm for the woman to see.

“Done,” the woman declared, grasping for the money. “Take her away.”

Gladys took the hand of the little girl, who she decided must be about four or five years old. Together they continued on down the street. By the time Gladys reached the inn, the enormity of what she had just done began to dawn on her. She had just bought, or adopted, as she preferred to think of it, a little girl. Just like that, she had become a mother. 

Ninepence, as the girl quickly became known, gulped down every scrap of food she was given. Within weeks she had turned into a healthy, happy little girl. She loved living at the inn, and Gladys never had a moment of regret that she’d followed her heart and not the mandarin’s command. 

One day, after Ninepence had been living at the inn about six months, Gladys was standing on the upstairs balcony. Suddenly, she saw Ninepence come running through the gate into the courtyard.

“Ai-weh-deh [name given to Gladys by the Chinese and translated: “virtuous one”],” Ninepence yelled, “are you hungry tonight?”

Gladys thought the question rather odd, but she answered it. “Yes, I am, and Yang is making us a delicious millet stew.”

Ninepence looked up at her. “I’m going to eat a little less at dinner. If I eat a little less, would you eat a little less, too?” she asked. 

“Why would we do that?” inquired Gladys. 

“I found a boy out here, and he is hungry,” Ninepence said, pointing to the gate. “If I eat less, and you eat less, and we put those two lesses together, we would have enough to feed him, too.”

Gladys smiled to herself. Ninepence was always on the lookout for children in need. “Yes, I will eat less with you, and the boy can eat with us. Bring him in,” she said.

 And so it was, that an eight-year-old orphan boy also became part of the family. 

 – excerpt from “Gladys Aylward: The Adventure of a Lifetime” by Janet & Geoff Benge

It just got me to thinking and praying…

Lord, that I would eat less.

Lord, that more would eat less. Then we could put our lesses together to feed others and bring them into the family. 

… Amen.

– To God be the glory.

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When the Answer is ‘No’

I’m not even sure where to start these swirling thoughts. It’s a lot to still take in.

I got a phone call a few months ago and we all celebrated quietly. We didn’t want to the news to slip out, but we were joyful at the life conceived after a hard run.

My dear sister in law had already lost three, two in a row and the most recent’s surgery still fresh on our minds. And then the news came. And we rejoiced quietly, so as not to announce anything before passing that first trimester window.

Things were trucking along, with understandable conversations of laying anxiety at Christ’s feet. For those of you whom have ever miscarried, you know that passing the last miscarriage date feels more secure… it’s like a deep breath can happen more freely.

And with the close of the first trimester, we were excited to see our prayers being answered favorably. Thanks be to the Giver of life who knits our very fragile selves together in the dark, quiet comforts of our Moms.

Then all at once she felt something was wrong. She told me of the multiple attempts from nurses and even the doctor to find little one’s heartbeat. I remembered that drop in the pit of my stomach when the same thing happened to me. She knew the baby was gone.

With another surgery scheduled, the healing phase begins again. Only this time with the hurt of having more children in heaven than here. We’re left with the ‘why’s to lay at His feet. And why four? The hurts. And the questions that we fight to keep from eating away at our sanity. Faith  is not shaken, but hurt is inevitable. Loss. The grief season.

So what are you supposed to do when the answer is ‘no’?

Again.

You hug each other
and hold each other
you come over to distract
and bring dinner
You pass off the baby when she needs snuggle therapy
And keep the baby quiet when she needs to forget
You listen
and listen
and listen some more

You hurt with her hurts
And cry with her crying
And you laugh with her laughs
because life still has joy
You go for walks
and drives
and celebrate what He has given her
with an arm around her at what has been taken away

And you both stand in the hope of Christ
a Hope that heals the soul

a Hope that breathes peace into the mind
and calm into the depths of the pain

a Hope that offers Life
when death seems to surround us

He is that Hope
and that Perfect friend

And so you just pray Him over her

because He is everything she could ever need…

… to heal.

… and to thrive through this storm.

– Love her so.

– to God be the glory. Forever. And Ever.

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