Privileged to suffer with Christ

In my younger years, walking with the Lord, I would cry out to God with eagerness, "Take my life! It is Yours!" I realised about a year or two ago that I could not pray that prayer with the same whole-hearted enthusiasm. I still said the words with obedience, but they were sober words, not excited ones. I worried that was evidence of my lack of faith or love for God. Then, I realised, that these words had become sober because, in those few years that had passed, I had learned something (a tiny bit) of the price of true obedience.

Why are we (Christians) so often surprised that true discipleship involves suffering? Why are we so uncomfortable with the fact that the Christian experience should involve periods of suffering? After all, the Word tells us explicitly not to be surprised: "Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal among you, which comes upon you for your testing, as though some strange thing were happening to you" (1 Peter 4:12). I am convinced that one of the most cunning tricks of the Enemy has been enticing us to sidelines suffering as a non-essential part of the Christian experience. Too often, I have found myself expecting ease in my Christian walk, feeling ashamed or weak or angry when it is a struggle and when it hurts or wounds me. Slowly, I am learning that in so doing, I have denied the gravity of Christ's promise that "In this world [we] will have much tribulation" and have thus weakened the sheer and overwhelming power of Christ's call for us to "take courage, for [He] has overcome the world! (John 16:33). There is a dramatic promise and spiritual truth that I have missed in denying or refusing suffering. Slowly, through my years of various struggles and now, in all the hardness of living and working in this country, I am learning the reason that the Word calls us to rejoice in our suffering - because in this place, we meet God in His true healing and overcoming power and we are granted real peace! It is for this reason that we are privileged to suffer with Christ!

So, the fact that living and working in Afghanistan is beyond hard - that it strips away at me - is something that I cannot and not want to deny because it would be denying the victory and power of God in its midst.

Goodbye tonight …

(A poem written after what I thought was my last conversation on this earth with my Nana.)

Goodbye tonight is a delicate thread
Like a spider’s wispy fibre, seen only under the low slant of your setting life
Loosely tugging at the membrane of that world
One stitch, tenuously sewing this world
For one instant
To that one

Goodbye tonight is a single drop
Swelling with the substance of all your years
Escaping through some minute fracture between our worlds
Falling against the surface of this one
Sending ripples that play against the wall of my heart
Calling me to tilt my chin up for its source

Goodbye tonight is an old, worn leather bag
Its scarred surface covered with the worn stickers of so many journeys
Bloated with my history
Clasping shut a century of memories
The legacy of those that have come before
The heaviness and contents of what I will carry forward

Goodbye tonight is the soft flutter of a white handkerchief
Your embroidered initials clasped between my fingers
Bidding bon voyage
Wiping away every tear
Signalling truce
Introducing wholeness

Goodbye tonight is a towering red cliff face
The heaviness and certitude of my faith rising up immensely all around me
Unshakable, immoveable, certain
The conviction of your destination
The awe of its victory
The hope of our future

Goodbye tonight is the scribbled note of my heart
Rolled up for you to deliver
Placed within the wrinkled clasp of your hand
“When you look on His face, tell Him I love Him
Tell Him He’s beautiful
Tell Him He has my life
Tell Him I’ll see Him soon”

Goodbye tonight is a weightless rising ember
Glowing red with all my love
Ascending up from my open palms
Letting your life go where I cannot yet follow
Calling out for you to pray for me
Promising to carry forward the flame you leave behind

Sweet Liberty!

When I arrived in Afghanistan six months ago, I began to feel this strange relief of being away from the context of the American church. While initially I couldn’t really understand that relief, I came to realize that my years in that Church context had left me with a rather profound sense of condemnation that I simply would never be a “good Christian”. While I am convinced that this is not unique to the States (this is only the environment in which I have experienced it), the Church in the States really seems to have bought into the cookie-cutter picture of what a Christian “should” look like. With that image comes a laundry list of spoken and unspoken rules of what we are and are not supposed to do, the vast majority of which are never addressed in the Bible. And so comes the condemnation.

I feel like much of the Church in America is bordering on becoming pharisaic. The Pharisees created for themselves hundreds of laws. They essentially “micromanaged” righteousness into something they could achieve through their own strength and discipline. Thus, they effectively eliminated any need for the Messiah. In Matt 5, Christ says that He did not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it. In fact, He says that our righteousness must surpass that of the Pharisees and scribes. From there, He goes on to say some absolutely absurd things – if you’re angry with your brother, it’s like murder; if you look lustfully, it’s like adultery, etc. In the face of these hyper-Jews who are convinced that they have got the whole holiness-thing down, Christ demonstrates that every single one of us are totally and completely condemned under the law.

With all this, the law becomes a means not for man to achieve holiness on his own account or with his own strength, but a means for proving conclusively that there is not one man (save Christ) that will ever reach the true mark of holiness and perfection. This has the potential to cause utter discouragement and hopelessness if we don’t have the second part of the story – that Christ has won that righteousness for us and has freed us from the condemnation of the law (Romans 8 – “Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death”).

With this realization, I have been exploring what that freedom really looks like. I don’t believe that my freedom is a license to sin (1 Peter 2:16), but nor do I believe that many of the things the Church has labeled as sin are thus. In all this, I have felt challenged to return to the true fundamentals of the foremost two commandments to love God with all my heart, soul, mind and strength and to love my neighbor as myself. This is something that still thoroughly confuses me, particularly as Christ so frequently says that obedience is the demonstration or outpouring of our love for the Father. I confess I do not know what obedience looks like, which rather scares me. I know that I love God and frequently fail to demonstrate it in action. But I also know that I am in the midst of untangling myself from the rules that have condemned me.

I want to know what true obedience and true righteousness look like. I want to be radical in the way that I love God and those around me. I want to shine out a message of hope to this world. And I want to be free of stupid rules and pictures of what some guy in a suit thinks that should look like.

I should be clear that I really don’t think that this is unique to the American Church (it’s just the context in which I have experienced it). I also trust that many of those that hold so tightly to their rules and fundamentals do actually have a genuine love for God, as did, I suspect, many of the Pharisees, however much we may demonize them. It’s not them that we should look at, but at ourselves and our ability to condemn one another in our pride and fear.

I am discovering that, while I have walked with the Lord for years, I have essentially missed the truth of the freedom that was won for me on that cross. I think God is calling us to a life of liberty and love of Him and of one another. The opportunity to relish and rejoice in that freedom only causes me to want to love God more and is, I am sure, far more attractive to those who do not know Christ than the condemnation that we Christians too often offer.

So, these are my thoughts … I’m still wrestling with it. I think I have a lot of it in concept, but am now trying to fight the Enemy’s attack that keeps trying to keep me under condemnation.

Beef Stew and Chocolate-dipped Faith

I walked into a Christian bookstore a few days ago in search of a devotional - a workbook to help me daily study God's word. I've been slacking recently and my relationship with God has suffered from the neglect. I was hoping to find something to really help me dig in and wrestle with hard questions and issues - I was craving spiritual meat.

What I found was a Christianity that seemed to have been hijacked by mass commercialism, witty one-liners and feel-good, self-help nonsense. Rather than a store full of resources for strengthening a Christian's faith, encouraging their souls and challenging them to walk more closely with God, the store resembled Oprah's book club, selling wimpy truths and pats on the back.

The women's section was by far the worst! Apparently Christian books aimed at women have discarded the belief that we are powerful, thinking, believing, praying, conquering creations of a mighty God. Instead, the faith represented on the women's bookshelf gave the impression that all we really needed were nice, happy thoughts each day accompanied by a tasty recipe. "Jesus loves you ... here's a nice recipe for beef stew." Am I the only one that feels the issues of my life and this world require more substance than that provided by a recipe book pretending to be a devotional???

Do you know there is actually a book called, Faith-dipped Chocolate for women? It "offers readers who crave chocolate delicious encouragement for their faith. Sprinkled throughout are yummy recipes, fun chocolate facts, ideas for creating chocolate gifts, and quotes celebrating God's gifts of chocolate." One reviewer actually said, "Served up with rich morsels of Scripture, Faith-Dipped Chocolate gives a little taste of heaven on earth." Now ladies, love for chocolate aside, COME ON!!! Can you really imagine Paul finishing every chapter of Romans with creative recipe ideas for manna and quail?

I grieve the fact that somehow we have corporately bought into this mundane version of faith. How is beef stew or "chocolate-dipped faith" going to help me walk with God? Is beef stew going to help me battle the sins that constantly entangle me - my pride, my fear, etc.? Is it going to help me love this world radically? Please someone, tell me where is the substance of our faith? Where is the power?

Is no one else dissatisfied by this cheap knock-off? Like the Louis Vuitton and Prada fakes sold on city street corners, have we really settled for something that may vaguely represent the real thing but will quickly fall apart the second anything heavy is put inside it?

Perhaps that is the problem. Perhaps we all have sold out and given up the desire to search for and find truth. Perhaps we have stopped believing that there is a truth to be found. Lets face it, while our generation affirms people's right to believe, we do not believe in the substance, the ultimate truth and reality of what they believe in. As a result, all we're left with are nice, happy thoughts, but little substance and no power.

I truly hope that we are not so easily satisfied. I know for myself that I crave more depth. I desire to love God with all my heart, to see Him work in and through me, to see the world changed for the better. I want to see the Church stand up against injustice and be known for being outstanding in our love and brave in the way that we face the difficulties of this world. I alone am powerless to do any of these things and will never be satisfied by a faith that thinks beef stew and chocolate are all the nourishment that I need.

Pyramid Stones & Life's Construction

Have you ever wondered whether you should give up on the thing that you have felt yourself made for all of your life? This is where I am tonight.

Since I can remember, working and living in developing countries alongside poor communities has been a defining part of who I am and who I hope to be. It is so much of what makes up my heart, like an undercurrent to my life.

There was a period of my life when I experimented with the idea of white picket-fences and 2.5 children. I tried to adjust my childhood normalcy to that of my American and British friends. I tried to convince myself that perhaps I could be happy and fulfilled in suburbia.

Here in Mexico, the Spanish conquistadors used the stones from pyramids they had demolished to construct churches and palaces. I have tried to do this - to take the materials of my childhood and adult experiences and construct something different, something of the "developed" world, something normal . . . But I can't. The stones in Mexico were made to come together into magnificent pyramids. The stones of my childhood were made to construct a life lived overseas. And yet, in the midst of tiredness and discouragement, I can't help but wonder at how easy it would be if only I could build something different.

I have been trying to find a field placement for the past several months and trying to hold the faith that the Lord that I love, the Lord that has provided for me so abundantly in the past will do so again. And while I believe this, I find I am sapped of energy. After months of trying to convince various NGOs of my infinite value and potential, I am becoming less convinced.

I know many would urge me to have faith in myself. I have never quite understood this. The older I get, the more of a lie it appears to be. Have faith in myself? I am not all-powerful. I cannot control the way the world moves. I am just a woman - wonderfully and carefully made with gifts and talents, yes - but still just a woman and therefore weak and limited. My life and this world are far too complicated and far too dangerous for me to place my faith in this fragility.

I wonder at how the pillars of my faith did it - kept the faith in God's overwhelming love and power despite all that happened to them and around them. The troubles of my situation are so terribly small in comparison, and yet I doubt. The Word says that "... faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. (Heb 11:1). I am learning that it is not merely a exercise of the mind, but a work of one's will. It is labor . . . and I am tired.

So this is where I remember that while, in all my perfectionistic nature, I long to never doubt, I also belong to a God that has told me, "Cast all your burdens on me, for I care for you." After all, it is He that has been building my life such that I long to be in the field. It is He who created these stones, He who decided what they would make and He who will ultimately construct something magnificent with my life.

Perfectly and Abundantly Providing

We serve an abundantly and perfectly providing God! I am reminded of this particularly today as I prepare for my last day in Washington, DC, a city that has held both my great joy and great pain. It seems strange that it is the loss of goodbyes and all the incredible uncertainty that lies before me that now reminds me of God’s character and the confidence I can find within it.

I have said so many goodbyes in the past week and have felt rather overrun with weariness. The most painful came last Sunday, when I bid my church family farewell. This fellowship of believers have formed my community and my home for the past three years and have taught me what true koinonia, or fellowship of brothers and sisters, is meant to look like. They have taught me, too, just how messy ministry is, how costly justice is, how powerful truth is and how crucial love is. There simply are not words for what this family of believers means to me.

In addition to my church, I have said goodbye to friends from various parts of my life – GWU, World Vision, Little Lights Urban Ministries. Just last night, I was blindfolded and taken for a picnic at National Airport by three dear friends at work. A few nights ago I shared dinner with old housemates from Little Lights’ Ministry House. The goodbyes have been taxing, particularly as I do not yet know what I am saying hello to.

Even in this series of goodbyes and the presence of such uncertainty, however, the Lord has reminded me of His perfect love and provision. The goodbyes have become markers not so much of loss, but of what all God has provided for me in these last six years. The very sting of loss has signaled the great joy that these friendships have brought me, and so in the midst of all the uncertainty and sadness I have been reminded that God will continue to do as He has so consistently in my life – provide.

So today, as I leave this city, these friendships and this body of believers that I love, I have a choice – to be discouraged by the uncertainty of next steps or encouraged by the certainty of God’s character and the remembrance of His consistent provision. Today is when my choice of faith is made.

(To see photographs of those I have said goodbye to, visit www.wokabaut.shutterfly.com)