What Has Transpired Since My Mission Trip to Russia Two Years Ago... Bunches

It’s been awhile since I’ve written on my blog.  Actually, that’s an understatement since it’s been almost two years since my last blog post…

Well, I didn’t become a missionary overseas as I hoped and almost expected I would.  Instead, I’ve realized that I am and have been a missionary wherever I go irrespective of the boundaries that define a given country, state, county or municipality.

Because of that epiphany, my faith has grown exponentially since my last blog post.  This growth has not occurred because of my mission trip to Russia; my faith has multiplied because of Christ and how He nurture’s a person’s faith, if the individual asks.  I know it may seem almost unbelievable that it works that way, but I can attest to the fact that it does.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the historical aspect of Jesus.  More specifically, I’ve been wondering about how so many people can believe historical texts written before the birth of Jesus, but not those of the bible.  This is particularly perplexing to me even in the context of the bible itself.  The Old Testament was written before the birth of Jesus, parts of it more than 500, 700 or even 1,000 years earlier, and yet people seem more apt to accept the Old Testament’s contents more readily than the New Testament’s even though Jesus fulfilled the former text’s prophecies.

Did you know that over 500 people saw Jesus after He rose from the grave?  When He appeared to those individuals after his resurrection, He didn’t reveal himself as a ghost or vision, but as a person.  Thomas, one of Jesus’ disciples, even placed his hand into the wounds of our Savior.  Jesus asked him to so because Thomas was a skeptic.

Did you know that there are over 5,500 original Greek manuscripts of the New Testament, 10,000 in Latin and 3,600 quotations of the bible?  Well, each one by itself can reconstruct the New Testament in its entirety.

I’ve been watching people in my life change right before my very eyes.  The year I went to Russia is the same one in which my son-in-law came to believe in Christ and his overall transformation has been miraculous to witness.  It’s just so encouraging to see someone’s life transform before your very eyes and seeing it encourages your own faith.

I’ve watched my daughter’s faith grow also.  As a parent, is comforting to know that one day I’ll see my family when I pass from this life into the eternal one.  It’s comforting to find security in the next everlasting life to come.  To know where you will be after you die is peace defined.  By comparison, to not know is unsettling.  I know because I was once doubtful of where I’d be after I passed.  During that time period, no discussions about death were held within earshot of me because I was just too fearful.  I mean, fear of the unknown can be pretty scary, right?

Fortunately, I found Christ…rather, He found me…and I am no longer afraid of death or not reuniting with my family in Heaven.  While I don’t look forward to my own demise, I am not afraid of my inevitable end and never will be.

With all of my heart and faith, I hope you develop the peace that I have…the peace that only Christ can grant you through your faith in Him.

God's Russia

I returned home from Russia nine days ago.  And nine days ago I didn’t think I had anything to write about concerning my mission trip.  I couldn’t find my purpose in having gone to Russia.  So I said to God, “Please show me what it is I need to write about.  Please show me why I even went over to Russia, because I don’t understand.  I can’t really see why I went over there.”  Hearing my entreaty, God was faithful to answer my prayer and, during the past five days, my thoughts have come together in a way I could never have anticipated.

If one thought could summarize my overall mission trip experience, it would be the one that has repeatedly crossed my mind – it’s not your mission.  That thought, once home, overwhelmed me.  It is something that flooded my mind and my spirit.  It was the central message I kept being bombarded with over and over and over again.

“Not my mission,” was the most evident truth that I not only thought, but also felt while in Russia.  It started with the loss of all control over my circumstances.  Once I arrived in Russia, my ability to control anything was literally taken away.  I couldn’t control when I ate, what I ate, who I ate with, where I slept, who I slept with, or what I was doing minute-to-minute.  This might seem trivial, but if you, as a North American, even just imagine yourself in those circumstances, you’ll realize it’s alarmingly meaningful to give up the control our culture tends to prize.  Compared to ours, Russian culture does not celebrate or value individual control as we do so having a lack of control is not nearly as bothersome for Russians in general.

 

Having been stripped of my ability to control my personal circumstances, I had only a few choices.  I could complain…which I did for a very short period of time before I realized complaining was not going to change anything.  That’s when I stopped and turned to God, realizing I had taken my eyes off of Him because I was so worried about my loss of control over my circumstances.  Things started to change once I returned my focus to Him and said, “Okay God, I don’t understand what’s going on here.  Please forgive me for forgetting that You’re really in control anyway, and know that my fake sense of self control has somewhat crumbled before my eyes and Yours.  This is all on You.  I accept that now.  Please forgive me.  I surrender to You.”

It started with me not really being affected when plans fell apart, leaving us missionaries to spend time alone with God.  “Such a privilege,” I thought.  When was the last time I could actually say I had time ALONE with God?  It had been years, years since I was not overwhelmed by the pressures of my life, the people in my life, and the schedules I keep for myself and my loved ones.  I began to see this “alone time” as a real, necessary privilege…a time where I could read the bible and actually pause to think about what I read in the simplest way possible without distraction.  I actually took the time to watch things without worrying about what I needed to do in the next 10 minutes or where I needed to be - none of those familiar pressures distracted me from observing God’s creations.  I even took the time to watch ants crawl along the ground as I did when I was a child!  It became obvious that God had given me an opportunity to connect with Him and He was saying, “Come and let’s chat!”

Before I left for Russia, I spent quite a bit of time trying to remember how to present the Gospel using the Evangeacube, a tool designed for sharing the Gospel.  I used the cube a total of 3 times while in Russia and what I said never came out of my mouth the same way any of those times.  What I did share over and over again was my own personal testimony, a testimony I’ve never shared at home…a testimony I’ve always been ashamed to share because I thought it was too raw, too much for someone to hear.  I had always heard that you don’t want to ever go into the details about what a mess you were before Christ.  Well, that rule didn’t apply in Russia and adhering to it clearly wasn’t what God had in mind.  It was in Russia that I shared the worst of who I was and the wonder of who I had become after asking Christ to be my life.  The story of my personal journey to Christ was powerful and I saw its impact in the faces of the Russians who listened.

I saw what the Gospel did when it was spoken to people.  One thing it always did no matter where we were, was silence people.  You could always hear a pin drop when the name, “Jesus,” was mentioned.  I saw a few other things, too.  One was that people either scattered after that moment of silence or, alternatively, someone or something would cause a disruption when we approached individuals about their having a choice to accept or reject Jesus.  I saw Satan’s interference clearer than I had ever seen it before.  It started to be something that could be predicted like clockwork and I was amazed.

Once we were out in a very small village where a small crowd had gathered to listen to us.  And just at that moment when the time came for the members of our audience to make their own decisions about Jesus, a man started arguing about their impending personal choices.  We thought, “Well, Satan has won here,” but sure enough, we were wrong!  Five children who had been listening to us intently accepted Christ as their Lord and Savior once they were separated from our audience’s argumentative adult members.

I learned not to be upset if someone didn’t get it, if someone didn’t make a decision for Christ.  I remembered that it wasn’t about any one person’s decision at the moment.  Instead, it was about the fact that they now had heard.  The bible says that scripture is sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the marrow.  It also says that God’s word never comes back void.  I learned to trust and know that my job was to tell about God’s word, not to work out other people’s decisions.  That part was in God’s hands.

I also witnessed spiritual warfare at its highest.  I witnessed believers at each other’s throats and, in my own life, experienced more than one attack.  The first attack occurred on my first day in Russia when I found myself sad and crying uncontrollably for no reason.  I couldn’t make sense of it and, frankly, I just wanted to go home.  Months earlier, I had been told this happened to some people, but I never thought I’d be one of those people.  Well, it turns out I was one of them.  I think I was the only one of my group who experienced this sadness and I had to be reminded of what it was and that it would pass.  And with prayer, it did.

 

A week into the trip, I received a call from the states saying my husband, Larry, was in the ICU.  Larry was fine when I left.  But for some reason in the week since I’d been gone, his breathing had practically stopped, his kidneys had stopped working and he was hanging on death’s door.  It was extremely clear to me why this had happened - it was an attempt to get me to return to the states and to not finish out the second week of my trip. 

But what ended up happening was not a victory for Satan, but a victory for God instead.  I was renewed with a passion and strength I could not describe.  I knew where it was from and I was very grateful.  My tears were limited and He kept my mind on the mission at hand.  It was incredible.  This event inspired my family members back home, giving them all a strength they did not know they could receive.  As proof, my daughter wrote the following on her Facebook wall:

“I was able to speak with my mom this morning after calling E3 Ministries emergency hotline last night. She called the hospital very early this morning and all my dad could get out was "stay in Russia". This is ALL the devils work, but we will continue to praise God for all that he has done and for sparing my father's life - my mom will continue God's work in Russia - she cried on the phone when 

I talked to her but I let her know that Nicole and I are taking care of everything and what she's doing is important and that she is needed more where she's at. On the same note I found a missing bolt on my car this morning. The spiritual battle is heavy right now, but our family’s morale is incredibly high! The devil may have afflicted my father’s health, but God did not allow him to take his life. I saw my dad this morning, he's still in ICU, and does not look good but according to his nurse he's much better than he was yesterday. His O2 levels were at 52 when he arrived (which could have easily killed him) and he aspirated vomit (TMI I know sorry), he's still vomiting blood this morning but he's MUCH better. Thank you everyone for your prayers and support - keep praying because God DOES hear us!”

Isn’t what she wrote both insightful and powerful?  Well, the work God did on behalf of my family didn’t stop there.  My soon-to-be son-in-law received Christ as his Lord that week also!  God was moving in ways I had not imagined.  Isn’t that just like God, though?  To work outside of our own understanding because of who He is?

My second week in Russia started off wonderfully.  We headed to a smaller city called “Shebekino.”  We stayed in Shebekino with a Pastor and his family; a family that truly lives for and praises Christ for everything and a pastor with a testimony as hard and difficult as mine…one that he shared with us. 

Our host had killed a man many years ago accidently and never spent time in jail even after turning himself into the authorities.  He attributes all of this to the Creator.  A life changed.  A testimony for all to see in his community.  A family that survives on $250 a month.  A family of four - they were happy beyond anything I had ever seen before.  It wasn’t faked or forced.  It was genuine and it was real.  I felt it and I saw it.  Our time there was well spent and I realized then why Satan had wanted me to not complete my second week…and I understood why God was determined that I did.

Something that I knew for sure throughout my trip, was that I was being prayed for.  I was reminded of that daily in my spirit and I was very aware that the prayers of others were being heard by God.  For instance, I knew I was starting to get a urinary tract infection, but then the symptoms would just go away.  When I came home, a friend told me she had been compelled to pray that I would stay healthy. 

I never experienced any sort of jet lag after I arrived or Russia or when I returned home.  I later found out that a group of people had been praying specifically for our team of North American’s to be spared jet lag. 

During my time overseas, I did not experience the normal arthritis pain I live with every day, but it started again once I got back home…just another example of how I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was being helped because of the prayers of people, of God’s children.

The Russian people that I met were lovely and wonderful.  They were a joy to be around.  My roommate of 18 days, Ann, was a wonderful person and if I pause to think about it, I would have to say she was a blessing to me…a new friendship created with someone who led a life very similar to mine.  I remember thinking at the end of the day it was nice that she was there.  It was almost as though we had been friends for years.  I actually miss her now.

I have no idea if God has plans for me to return to Russia or not.  But what I can say is that I’m happy and grateful that He allowed me to take part in His mission.  I will not forget my time there.

Lingo and Faith

There is something that drives me batty and I just have to get it out here.  It may sound like a mean thing to say to some people, but it’s the truth - I get highly irritated with the use of Christian lingo.  Why?  Because to me, it’s as if Christian lingo is used as a type of code, especially in brick-and-mortar churches.  I won’t mention the certain phrases that make what I’m saying particularly obvious here, but I will say that I have no idea what purpose anyone talking in code serves.

I guess it’s acceptable to speak like this with other Christians, but why would anyone choose to do so?  Why can’t we just speak in plain and simple English?  Why can’t we just explain things and talk to each other in words that everyone understands.  Isn’t it much easier to become friends with someone when you speak using simple, plain words, after all? 

I realize that words are important.  I also understand the power they hold.  For these reasons and others, I see no point in people using a particular lingo unless it is for good…and the Christian lingo is not used for that reason.  I believe the Christian lingo is often used to signify to another person that “I know more about God than you do” and that notion is just baloney.  I’m not impressed with anyone who uses words that most people don’t even understand.  And I highly doubt that Christ would be impressed if He was standing here today.  In fact, it’s likely that He would call people who deliberately use words that are unfamiliar to most a “Pharisee” in reference to the priests who, back in Jesus’ day, thought they were all “that” because of their knowledge of scripture.

As a matter of fact, Jesus saw right through such people when He was on earth and called them out more than once.  What really matters is the content of your heart.  Usually, if you’re paying attention when you’re around someone you can figure out the person’s heart quickly.  Use of Christian lingo means nothing in the context of a person’s heart.  Knowledge of scripture means nothing, either, because even demons, enemies of God, know it.  Head knowledge is not what’s important.  If you believe in Christ, He has allowed you to believe and your life changes through Him and only Him.  We place too much value on people and their ideas and words.  Never be intimidated by the way a person speaks or prays.  That in and of itself means nothing.

What I do believe is helpful is talking to people like they are people.  I believe that the only thing we can do as believers is tell others about Christ - the rest is not up to us.  I mean it’s not people who convince other people to believe in Christ.  The Holy Spirit does this and I have no idea how or why the Holy Spirit decides to open the door to people. 

I do, however, believe it’s our responsibility to teach others about Christ and his ways once people are believers. Although it can be puzzling how God works through humans to educate other people about Himself, He does it.  I also know that some things aren’t taught by humans.  Some things are taught to us in ways that I call “magical.”  I say magical because I don’t understand how I know certain things, but I do and I call this the magic of God.

The next time someone speaks over your head about things related to Christ, don’t worry.  Just ask Christ to speak to you so you can understand and He will.  He’ll explain things in a way you can easily grasp.  He always does.

Why, Why and Why Again

I often wonder why I write so much.  I wonder why I do and others don’t.  Actually, I wonder about a lot of things I don’t have answers to.  Do you?  I mean, have you ever wondered why something is the way it is instead of being some other way?  I’m betting you have so I thought I’d write a post about some of the things I wonder about on a regular basis.  When I’m done, I plan on wondering why I decided to write this, of course.

I wonder why God created us.  I know it was for His glory, but I still wonder why.  I mean, how do we bring Him glory anyway?  I don’t know, but I still wonder about it.  I also wonder why we look like we do.  You know, our human form?  We are really an awesome creation when you start to think about it, but I still wonder why God chose this form for us. 

I wonder why women have babies.  Why not men?  I’ve always heard it’s because men could not stand the pain and I believe that : ), but I really wonder why God chose for life to be recreated this way.  Why aren’t we just dropped from the sky instead?  That seems like it would be much easier.  But then again, I don’t have the mind of God.  He must have good reason to allow some women to bear children to further populate the earth and good reason to prevent other women from having children also.  That brings up another “why.”  Why are there women who want children so badly yet cannot physically have them while there are other women who get mad because they’ve gotten pregnant in the first place and abort their unborn children?  Why is that allowed?

Why do mean people seem to get away with mean things without ever getting caught?  You know, those people who do all sorts of really horrible things and seem to be able to get away with them all the time?  Why aren’t they held accountable for their reprehensible actions?  I guess I can say that as I’ve gotten older I have seen justice served here on earth in many instances.  But there are still those lingering cases that will always make you wonder why, right?

Why do people continue to hurt those that help them the most?  This one hits home for me right now.  I’m to the point where I almost never wonder about this anymore because it happens so very often.  Just when I think I can’t be hurt again…boom!  It happens again and by the same person no less.  Why do I continue to be hurt by someone I am desperately trying to help?  Why can’t this hurtful behavior just stop?  Why can’t I simply flip the switch on my feelings and emotions and turn them off in this context?

Why does it seem as though time is speeding up?  I’ve been told it’s due to my age, but I disagree.  It’s something else.  But why can’t I explain what I think is really behind the hastening of time better?  Is it a sense in my spirit?  Does anyone else sense this or am I the only one who thinks something is up?

And here is one that is so basic, but so profound.  Why does the sun come up every day, and why do we take that for granted?  Why aren’t we thankful for just this one thing every day?

Last, but definitely not least…why is it so hard for people to believe in God?  I know the simple answer is because God has not allowed them to believe or they have rejected Him already.  But why would you not believe in God just by looking outside?  Is there really a doubt in your mind that all of this happened because of God?  Do you really think we happened by chance?  We can’t even figure out our own bodies and yet we are saying that we just randomly appeared here on earth.  Why would someone think that?  Why would anyone not think we were created by a Being much more intelligent than ourselves.

I’ll end by saying that I’ve always been a very curious person…more so than most, I think. But again, I wonder why that is. 

What do you wonder about?  And why do you wonder about it?

That Feeling in the Pit of Your Stomach

Have you ever woken up feeling sick to your stomach with sadness?  This has been happening to me a lot lately and I can’t for the life of me figure out why.  Most days the feeling goes away by noon.  You know, I remember this happening during very dark times in my life, but right now I really don’t know of anything in particular that is hurting me emotionally, spiritually, or physically.  Well, there is one thing, but I’ve just decided to live with that until the day I depart from this earth.  That certain something has been going on for many, many years and well, I just won’t go there…at least not now.

So anyway, I pulled out my iPad and went to one of the bible applications hoping that the word of God could help my heart to be free of this feeling of sadness.  To be truthful, reading God’s word usually does help me when I’m feeling like this.  I call it magic because to me it is magic.  This certain application pulls up a verse of the day and low and behold, this is what popped up, “Stay alert! Watch out for your great enemy, the devil. He prowls around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour”.1 Peter 5:8. I’m glad I read this because it caused me to be on alert all day.  Had I not read this one verse, I might have been stuck in the “poor me” mode all day.  But instead, I shook off the sad feelings knowing that they weren’t from God.  I believe that overall sad feeling was a symptom of spiritual warfare.

As a matter of fact, quite a lot has been going on in my life that I believe is an attempt to derail my trip to Russia.  If you’re not a believer, this won’t make any sense, but if you are a believer it will…at least I think it will.

Recently, temptations have become more obvious in my life than they’ve been in a very long time.  One of my daughter’s entire life is falling apart before my eyes and there is nothing I can do about it.  What I mean is, I cannot help her with what’s happening and, to be honest, sometimes it feels better to be able to control things.  I know that the situation is in God’s hands and I’m okay with that, but what I’m not okay with is my role in all that is going on…because I don’t have one.  I’m of no use in this situation. 

I leave in six weeks on my 18-day trip to Russia and one of the things I’m thinking is, what else can happen between now and then to prevent me from going?  I’m not supposed to really think like this, but I am.

I need something from you.  I’ve asked before in different ways and I’ve gotten no overt response as of yet.  I need people to say they will pray for me during this time.  I really need prayer starting today.  Can you pray for me?  Will you pray for me from now until August 18^th?  If that is something you can do, will you drop me a note at cindiashbeck@gmail.com  I really hope to hear from you…all of you.

God and Animals

I spent the last year of my life working on animal welfare issues.  Recently, though, I decided to pull out to concentrate more on God.  I think that is what He wants me to do.  But yet, I’m not sure.  The thing is, I can’t stop thinking about animals.  I mean what if God put me here to help animals?  What if that is what He wants me to do and I only think that I should concentrate on God?  Now that doesn’t make much sense when I write it out at all because in reality God would never discourage anyone from concentrating on Him, correct?

So here I sit, still wondering if I made the right decision.  Why can’t I do both?  Why can’t I love animals and God?  Because I’m pretty sure I do anyways, otherwise I wouldn’t have my dogs on my lap or near to me as I write this.  I wouldn’t spend 4 out of 7 days going to Petco to spend time with cats from our local Humane Society and cleaning their cages.  And I wouldn’t STILL be reading about animals on the web.  I don’t know.  I just don’t know.

Maybe just being involved in my own local Humane Society is enough.  Maybe that’s the answer?  Maybe it’s not?  I guess I’ll just have to find out with time since it was only two days ago that I quit Lost Dogs of Wisconsin, retired my Examiner.com title, and said I was no longer going to be involved with animal welfare issues. 

Maybe I need a break.  Maybe that is the answer.  Maybe that is what I need.  I think that’s what I need - just a break.  Yes indeed, that is what I need, a break from all of that. 

I’m off to my Weight Watchers meeting.  I am going to write about that in the very near future.  Thank you, blog, for helping me make a decision as I was writing.  You’re nice like that and I thank you for being my friend.

I'll Never Know Enough

I treasure the time I spend in my car, not because I love my car, but because my vehicle is one of the few places where I am usually alone with my thoughts.  And after I dropped my son off at his Milwaukee apartment earlier today, I was able to be alone with my thoughts for the whole ride back to my residence.

During the ride, I focused on a comment I overheard someone make a while back.  What I heard really struck a chord with me at the time.  In fact, the comment made me wonder whether or not I had made the right decision to go on my upcoming mission trip.  You see, the exact comment was, “I could never go on a mission trip.  I don’t know enough,” and I can only guess that the speaker was referencing his or her amount of bible knowledge when making the comment.

Well, if my assumption about the comment’s context is correct, then I guess I might be in deep trouble because I don’t think I know enough, either.  I mean, the bible is a pretty big book, after all.  And more than that, it’s the written word inspired by God.  The bible is a popular book, too, and is so regularly on the bestselling lists that publishers tend to avoid mentioning its position on their lists anymore.  It’s simply a given that it’s on these lists and everybody knows it.

As I drove home, I confirmed my belief that for all of the reasons mentioned above and many others, no one will ever know enough about the bible.  I know that even if I studied the bible for one million years, I would still be unable to claim that I knew enough about the text because, in my mind, that is the same as saying that I know “enough” about God, which I don’t and never will.  At least not in this lifetime.

In retrospect, I wish I’d said something to the people engaged in the conversation I overheard.  I wish I had admitted to them that I, like them, don’t know enough either.  I wish I had told them that despite my failure to know “enough,” I was still going on a mission trip this summer.  I wish I had told them that the only requirement for a believer to go on a mission trip is that the person have a willing heart.

In the Great Commission, God calls on all of us to go, to be missionaries for Him.  He does not include a job description in the Great Commission that mandates that we accumulate vast amounts of knowledge before we serve Him.  He does not pick His missionaries from a special group of well-educated individuals who are expertly versed in the bible.  God calls on all of us regardless of our familiarity with the bible.

If I ever hear someone make a comment similar to the one that recently piqued my interest, I’ll have something to discuss with the speaker.  Now I’m curious about what else I may hear about missionaries and/or mission trips before I depart to do God’s work in Russia…

I Don't Measure Up

Have you ever thought that you don’t measure up?  More specifically, have you ever thought that you don’t measure up to other Christians?  Well, I have.  In fact, I think that all the time.

You see, I didn’t grow up in the church.  I don’t speak the Christian lingo.  I don’t attend all of the functions.  And to be honest, I was slow to mature when I became an adult and sometimes was unable to pay all of my bills on time, in full, or at all.  Clearly, I don’t have a perfect background.

But I ask you this, did Jesus come because we were all doing well?  Or did He come because we were all messed up and needed Him desperately?  Well, I think He came to me because I fell into the latter, messed up” category.

You see, I didn’t really start living for Christ until I was older so a lot of things in my past are pretty messed up.  There is nothing I can do to remedy my past.  I have done everything I can to make amends, but my past is still what it is and will continue to be so.

What I find interesting, though, is that Christ has forgiven my past.  He knows my heart and my mind…He knows everything about me.  And He will judge me one day, a fact I am grateful to know.

While I await my turn to stand before God, I must admit that I am tired of people judging others.  There is not a single living person who hasn’t messed up in one way or another.  And there isn’t a single living person who doesn’t need Christ.  We all need Him.  We all need Him every day.

The next time you meet someone who may not seem to satisfy all of your preconceived notions of how he or she should be, I encourage you to take a moment to really look at your own self, at the way you live your own life.  And I encourage you to determine whether or not you successfully measure up to the same expectations you think others should.  More than likely, you will probably realize that you, too, fail to measure up to your own preconceived standards.

Recognizing Small Gifts

Lake Michigan is basically just on the other side of my front door and, still, I take it for granted.  So, I decided to visit Red Arrow Beach today.  It was beautiful, warm and…well, deserted.  I had the beach all to myself.

Realizing I’ve taken this vast body of water for granted for quite some time, I decided to give Lake Michigan some thought as I enjoyed the warmth of the sun on my skin while I walked along the beach.  I thought about how Lake Michigan is the reason we don’t usually get heavy snowfall in the winter despite the occasional “lake affect” snowstorm.  Lake Michigan is also what protects us from the weather-related events like tornados and hurricanes that seem to plague other areas of the country.

I thought about how Lake Michigan seems to control the temperature around here, too, to one degree or another (pardon the pun).  It’s not that it doesn’t get cold here in the winter or hot in the summer, because it does.  It’s just that when it’s thirty below inland, it’s only zero here.  And when it’s 90 degrees on the other side of town, it’ll be a balmy 70 degrees here.

And finally, I thought about how very pretty Lake Michigan is…at least what I can see of it.  I grew up on the west coast and living where I do is the closest thing to being back by the Pacific that Wisconsin can provide.  And I love it.

So, why am I writing about my affinity for Lake Michigan?  Well, it’s because of my involvement with, “I am Second.”  At the most recent meeting with my “I Am Second” group, I decided to take time to recognize the many gifts God gives to all of us every moment of every day.  I remember thinking that that would be a synch, but, boy, I was wrong.  It’s not easy at all.

To be honest, I’ve had to pull myself to a standstill to actually pay attention to any given present moment.  I know that may sound crazy, but it’s true.  And it was in those moments that I realized I’ve taken much, much more than “just” Lake Michigan for granted…

Anyway, it blows my mind that God can and does give us all so much and yet, we, His own children, complain and demand more.  Well, today, I got more without asking for a thing.  I had time to reflect on the beauty of Lake Michigan and enjoy a stroll along Red Arrow Beach.  Today, I enjoyed a wondrous gift from God.

If you would like to learn more about “I am Second,” please click here

No Ordinary Day

The last eight weeks have been filled with tragedy and heartbreak for my family.  The night of Sunday, March 18^th, my daughter was badly beaten by her boyfriend…and so was my grandson.  I’ll never forget groggily answering the phone in the middle of the night and hearing my daughter say, “Come get us, mom.”  I’ll never forget what I saw when I arrived at my child’s residence, either.  Having sprung out of bed and neglecting to even put on street clothes in my haste, I got to my daughter’s home in time to see her talking to a police officer through her tears.  I got there in time to see the bruises on her body.

Still in my pajamas, it all seemed like a dream.  That is, it all seemed like a dream until I literally felt my heart sink to the lowest point possible.

I held my youngest granddaughter in my arms as I walked around surveying the scene unaware that my grandson had been abused, too.  I was in a daze.  Of course my other children, husband and I offered my victimized daughter love, support…anything and everything we could.  Even without knowing what my grandson went through, it was still the most awful experience of my life.  We’ve all heard stories about women and children being abused, but no one ever thinks it’ll happen to their family members.  Well, I’m living proof that it can.  And it did on that horrible, horrible night.

The next few weeks were long.  Time seemed to stop repeatedly as we waited for my daughter’s boyfriend to appear in court on April 9^th, more than three weeks after a judge decided to release him on bail the day after he brutalized my child and her son.  We remained on constant guard, waiting for him to “finish the job,” meaning kill my daughter, as he’d pledged to do.

And then I got the biggest surprise I could have imagined two weeks ago – my daughter let her abuser, the man who abused her own son, back into her life.  Neither I nor any other member of my family had ever been consumed by such anger before.  None of us could understand how she could choose to put herself and her two children in danger again, knowing what this man was capable of.  In fact, I still don’t understand her decision, but have researched it enough to know that it is very common for victims to welcome their abusers back.  Having read a mountain of material and heard countless testimonials, I still don’t understand this tendency, however.  I just don’t.

And then yesterday rolled around.  Yesterday was a day I woke up looking forward to because it was the day the custody of my grandson would be decided by a judge.  It was the day that his biological father might be given the chance to protect his son from future abuse.  It was the day my daughter risked losing custody of her son, my grandson, because of her decisions.

With the exception of my abused daughter, my whole family agreed that my grandson needed to be removed from my daughter’s home…that it was the best thing for him.  Knowing this, my heart still ached for my daughter.  I couldn’t share my pain, though, because I would have been told I shouldn’t feel that way…but my heart still ached for her.

Last night, after the court rendered its decision, I cried.  I prayed, begging God to take the pain I knew my daughter was feeling having just lost custody of her son away from her.  I pleaded for Him to let me bear her burden of hurt.  I prayed for my daughter despite her recent choices.  Still, I couldn’t shake what I was feeling…I couldn’t soothe the ache in my heart.

And then I was blessed.  You see, last night, I awoke in the middle of the night to a feeling of peace.  I was amazed and grateful to have peace about this whole situation.  Even though my emotions are still raw, last night’s experience has confirmed what I already knew to be true:  God has a plan, He has answered my prayers and I will be forever thankful.

Today is a new day….God has made that fact very clear.  And I offer Him my thanks.

Thank you, heavenly Father.

Facts and Feelings

Up until recently, maybe even just last week, I couldn’t say that I was able to separate my feelings from facts.  To be honest, doing so has always been something I’ve struggled with.  I’ve always been told that feelings are fickle…feelings don’t reflect the truth…if I waited for five minutes, my feelings would change just like the weather, and so on and so on.  Maybe or maybe not because of what I’ve been told for all these years, I have never been able to separate feelings from fact.  They’ve always comingled rather than coexisted in my mind.

Well, I think I prayed about my inability to separate the two because I know I prayed, but don’t recall my prayer…and because something unprecedented has happened since then – while feeling downtrodden in a “yucky” mood, I knew for a fact that God still loved me and that things would ultimately be okay.

Now, you may think this is something I should have known long ago, but it is a fact that this is the first time I’ve experienced this understanding and I feel free as a result.  It is an awesome talent to be able to separate my feelings from facts.  And I’m hoping I will continue to hone my skill as time continues to pass.

Thank you, God, for hearing my forgotten prayer and blessing me with this newfound ability!

Friday Thoughts

Take just a moment and imagine being a disciple of Christ on this day around 33 A.D.  Imagine how horrified and confused you would have been as you prepared to see the Son of God be executed by your peers…by the same people He was sent to earth to save.

Jesus’ disciples knew He was God, their King.  Even though Jesus referenced His death in parables He shared with His followers, I’m not sure they understood everything He said in the months and years that preceded His death, however.  So, I cannot even begin to comprehend the horror the disciples must have experienced as they witnessed Jesus being taken from among them…as they witnessed their King’s violent, tragic murder.

Sometimes I think His disciples must have wanted to die with Him on that fateful day if for no reason other than to escape their own despair.  They spent three years living with Jesus, after all…three years living with the living God as He performed miracle after miracle after miracle.  Then they watched His execution and bore witness to His mother’s suffering.

In addition to wondering why these murderous events had transpired and grappling with their own grief, the disciples must have feared for their own lives because they had been His devoted followers.  What they experienced on this day centuries ago must have been similar to what happens to us when we suffer great stress, worry, sorrow, and/or horror…when we seem to morph into external observers of our lives instead of being the actors in them.  It’s almost like we can watch ourselves going through our daily routines but are no longer in our own bodies while in this state.  It’s a coping mechanism that enables us to handle what’s happening around us and/or to us.

The disciples couldn’t have had any idea of what this particular day would eventually come to mean to so many people in the years that followed Jesus’ death.  They probably didn’t even have an idea of what the 12 months following Jesus’ death would have in store for them, either.

Understanding that Christ had to die upon the cross for our sins is mysterious or even fleeting for me.  I understand it on one hand, but on the other I wonder why His death had to occur the way it did.  But I know it doesn’t matter if I can grasp the brutality of the way He died or not.  The reason why He had to die at all is clear to all of us now, including me.

Jesus shed His blood as the final sacrifice for everyone that came after Him, meaning all of us.  There will never be a need for another sacrificial altar as Christ was the last sacrifice we needed to be saved.  All we have to do now is believe that He died for us, for our salvation.  It’s simple really, but we humans tend to complicate things, even our own salvation, beyond the point of confusion.

Thank you, Jesus!  Thank you for dying for me.  Thank you for being my God.  I truly love You.

Secret Place with the Most High

I’m currently in the midst of reading a condensed book of works written by, Andrew Murray.  Neither the book’s comparative old age nor the death of Murray in the early 1900s makes me doubt that the Holy Spirit wrote through him.

Last night I was reading about prayer and worship.  Scripture says that true worship is by spirit and truth.  Scripture also says that after Christ died for us, we no longer needed to go to a temple to be in the presence of God, our Father, which means we don’t have to go to a physical building to worship God today.

Instead, as Jesus told us, we only have to go to a secret place to pray to God which, I believe, is the same as worshipping Him.  Everybody’s secret place, whether it be in the quiet of one’s own mind, in a closet, or in a spare bedroom, is unique to each individual, but every secret space allows its occupant to be alone and prevents the person from being bothered while praying.

Even if your secret place is your bathtub, it is still the place where you will face God.  You won’t actually see Him standing before you, but you will encounter His presence wherever it is you choose to worship Him.

Last night was not the first time I encountered this material about secret places – I had read about this in scripture before.  But last night was the first time I reread it in a long while and I am amazed by how much more insight, how much more meaning I got out of the same words I’d read on many previous occasions.

I went to my personal secret place this morning, the place that only God and I know about.  And my attitude about today, this very day, changed during my time with Christ.  I normally talk to God throughout any given day, but I have never started a day in my secret place before…I’ve just never been a morning person, you see.

Well, as I said, I put God first today and talked with Him for about 45 minutes at the very beginning of my morning.  And all I can tell you is that my morning, my day, my attitude…everything is just plain different, just plain brighter as a result.  I know and am grateful that I have been blessed today simply because I put God first this morning by visiting with Him in our shared secret place.

Why don’t you go to your secret place when you get out of bed tomorrow morning?  I can tell you from my own wondrous personal experience with God, you will not regret it.

Struggle

If you are taking the time to read this, I’m hoping you’ll take a few more minutes to share your thoughts on this subject when you’re done.  I’m struggling with this a bit today and would be grateful to learn from you!

Some days, like today, I just don’t understand myself.  I just don’t understand how easily I can get sucked back, back into thinking certain meaningless things are important in life, back into thinking that what other people think of me is at least part of what defines me…back into forgetting that if I am pleasing God that is all that should concern me.

For me, identifying the activities I’m supposed to be involved with is a balancing act, but my see-saw often leans too far in one direction or the other.  I fall short whenever the teeter-totter in my mental schoolyard hits the ground, which it does often.  Sometimes, I just want to throw my hands up and say, “God, will You please run my life?”

I do pray for God to run my life…but, the fact is, I am often faced with choices and I’m not always sure He is guiding my decisions.  Every time I utter that familiar refrain, “God, will You please run my life?” I wonder who it is that’s whispering in my ear.  Is it Him or me?  I am hearing God speaking to me or am I simply replaying my own thoughts in my head like an audio book?  I get the two confused, I think.

Do any of you confuse the two?  How can any of us tell the difference?  I really don’t know the answer, but I’m eager to learn.  I mean, I know that if I have a strange, mean, or judgmental thought that is obviously not good, I’m responsible for it or, maybe, something demonic is.  But, when I’m trying to maintain balance in my decision-making process, I can’t distinguish between my thoughts and what God is trying to tell me, if anything.

I have been blessed on several occasions because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God has spoken directly to me.  I would describe these experiences as an inside thing between me and God.  Only He knows all of my thoughts and beliefs, and I believe some things are simply of God, like His presence, His words.  I just wish these experiences would occur more often…or, better yet, on a regular basis.  I know I can’t have everything my way, that I can’t schedule weekly conference calls with God as I can with my coworkers, but I wish I had some assurance that He is guiding me in the decisions I make both frequently and infrequently.

Maybe I don’t have this certainty because I don’t pray enough.  Maybe I don’t have it because I don’t read the Bible enough.  Maybe I don’t have it because I’m unworthy…because I was born a sinner.

The fact is, I just don’t know why I don’t.  Do you?

Different Thinking

If you know me personally, you probably know that I am going to Russia this summer.  You also probably know how excited I am to be part of E3 Partners Ministries’ mission trip…how excited I am to be participating in this mission alongside other people who are just like I am.

I’ve started thinking about a few things as my trip draws closer and closer.  One thought that has been consuming my mind of late is just how special missionaries are and how they tend to be called to certain places.  I’ve always known missionaries were special people and believed they were called by God Himself.  I’ve always considered them the “best” Christians because of this belief.

Never once in my life did I ever think I would be one of “those people,” one of the “best” Christians.  You see, I didn’t waste my time thinking I would ever be a missionary because I had already messed up my life.  I wasn’t the greatest parent and nothing about my life was impressive.  Adding the fact that I didn’t grow up in a Christian family with my imperfectly led life, I summed up that I would never be a missionary.

And, that’s how I thought until last year.  More honestly, that’s what I thought until about four months ago…

Last year, I had the opportunity to go on a mission trip to Guatemala.  I thought and thought about going, but really didn’t have a clue if I was going to go or not.  I spoke to God about it.  Then, I researched the trip.  That’s when I noticed that all of the pictures I saw of people doing missionary work in Guatemala looked the same.  The only thing that differentiated one from another was the people in the photos.  Of course, this made sense as I realized that many different churches conducted mission trips in this area.

My realization only bothered me for about a minute, if that.  My curiosity was piqued when I read an article that described some short-term mission trips as superficial, however.  When I contacted the author who’d written the article five years earlier, I was only mildly surprised when he reaffirmed his opinion regarding these types of mission trips.

Despite the author’s skepticism, I decided to submit an application to go on my church’s mission trip to Guatemala.  I thought the trip would be fun and I was excited to go with the members of the youth group that I co-led with another adult.  After committing to the trip, I learned that my group’s work was going to consist of creating a soccer field.  Somehow, that didn’t seem like an appropriate task for a group of missionaries, but I wasn’t the decision-maker…I was just someone who attended church, not a pastor or leader.  And, if my church’s leaders thought sending my group to Guatemala for the purpose of making a soccer field was okay, I agreed it must be.  Whether I was building a field, school, or church, I was going to have fun anyway.

Well, it wasn’t okay.  I ended up not going to Guatemala even though I was expected to.  I remember being disappointed that I wouldn’t be with my youth group, but I couldn’t justify making the trip.  I couldn’t justify making the trip because I ended up leaving the church that was sponsoring it.

One thing I accepted when I decided not to go to Guatemala was the obvious fact I was not meant to go on that particular trip.  I wasn’t meant to go because my sole goal for the trip was to have fun.  My mindset was completely wrong.  If I wasn’t going on a mission trip to talk to people about Christ, what was the point of going at all?  To put in a soccer field?  What good is there in having a bunch of missionaries put in a soccer field, anyway?

The Great Commission in the Bible reads as follows, “Go and make disciples of all the nations,[a] baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. 20 Teach these new disciples to obey all the commands I have given you” Matthew 28:18.  If I understand this scripture correctly, it instructs missionaries to go and make disciples everywhere, in all nations of the world.  So…what was the point of me going to Guatemala as a missionary…to put in a soccer field?  How was that going to recruit disciples for God?

What is a disciple, anyway, I wondered.  According to a free online dictionary, a disciple is “one who embraces and assists in spreading the teachings of another.”  So, combining this definition with my understanding of the Great Commission, I determined that I am supposed to go to all nations, all places, and teach others about Christ.

My motivation for going to Russia is entirely different than the motivation I had for going to Guatemala.  I’m not going on this mission trip to have fun or because I’m eager to go overseas.  Instead, I’m going to Russia for the only reason that it is right to go on a mission trip.  I am going because there are people in Russia who are lost and looking to hear the word of God, people who want to learn and know about Christ.

I can’t tell you how I know this, but I am certain of it.  I know there are people there that are as eager to hear about God’s simple plan for salvation as I am to tell them about it.  So, I am going to teach anyone who will listen to me about Christ.  And, that’s enough of a reason, enough of a purpose for this trip.

Sometimes, I think we humans consider the Bible boring.  I guess that’s why some choose to do more on a mission trip than “just” make disciples.  I guess that’s why some choose to build things as “necessary” as soccer fields.  But, Christ’s words are quite clear and include no direction about building structures or clearing fields.  Yes, this time I will go on the mission trip I’ve committed to.  This time I will go because I am going for the right reason…and it is God’s.

One night in the house

Even though I completed training back in December of last year, I was still nervous as I began my first stay at my community’s homeless house last night.  I was afraid that I would do something wrong or, worse, offend someone residing in Hope House.

Despite my best efforts to hide my fear, my nervousness must have been obvious because one of the first residents I encountered took one look at me and said, “You look scared to death!”  I explained that, well, in essence she was right.  I told her it was my first stay at Hope House and I was worried about doing something, anything, and everything wrong.  She chuckled and assured me that all of Hope House’s residents were fine and very laid back and relaxed.

It didn’t take me long to realize how accurate my new friend was with her description of the people I met throughout the night.  I spent most of the night in the company of a 4-year-old girl.  In her role as a doctor, my little friend had a busy round of appointments with others staying at Hope House.  After she completed her last physical exam, the girl curled up beside me on the couch while we adults watched some television in the living room.

I couldn’t concentrate on the television program, however.  I spent my time wondering if this type of gathering, this type of family gathering, was what the residents of Hope House longed for.  I wanted to ask the people around me if they wanted family that wanted to be family…family that would love, accept, and support them no matter what.

And then I realized that’s just what they had right there in the living room I was sitting in, in the house where I was going to spend the night.  I realized that it would not be easy for someone to leave Hope House because of the love that exists between its walls, between its residents.  Love is missing in the lives of so many people, but not in those lived by the residents of Hope House.

As the night continued, I began to feel even more at home.  I said goodnight to the house’s “doctor” before she was put to bed.  I spent quite a bit of time talking with my co-volunteer, a kind older man I had just met.  He told me about the various mission trips he’d gone on in the past and I, in turn, shared the details of my upcoming mission trip to Russia.

I was exhausted after our conversation so I headed off to get some sleep in the volunteers’ bedroom located on one of Hope House’s upper floors.  The room wasn’t fancy, but it was a comfortable place for me to lay my head for the night.  Before putting my head down on the pillow, though, I prayed.  I prayed for each and every person in Hope House.  I prayed for the lives that had been so disrupted at some point that it caused these people to be here, in Hope House, in the last place in our community they probably ever thought they’d be.

I don’t know why, but I was surprised that all of these people had welcomed me so warmly into Hope House…into what is currently their shared home, the home they shared with me, another stranger in their lives. 

I will never forget my first night at Hope House.  In fact, I’m already looking forward to my second stay there.  Investing in the lives of other people gives a reward that can’t be measured by interest rates or any other type of yardstick.  It’s simply something I’ve always longed to do and will continue to do long into the future because there is no greater immeasurable reward.

The real me blog

This blog will be about the real me…about the real person who lives each and every day as a human being.  It will also focus a lot on God, too, because He is the One I am really about.  I can see that this will make some of you never come back to this blog, and that is okay.  A year ago I might have only written material I thought others would read, but not now that I know how quickly time passes us by.  I am 50 years old and time seems to be moving faster than it ever has before.  I don’t know why that is, but I have my ideas and I promise to write about them someday…someday that is inevitably approaching more quickly today than just yesterday.

This blog may focus on one thing for a long time so you’ll know what is consuming my mind, but not necessarily my time.  Writing does take time, especially well thought-out writing that people can and want to understand.  So, if you see a blog that is put together and reads well, you will know that someone has taken some time to tell you about what is happening in his or her world.

I have always been some sort of writer, mainly the ink on paper type.  I remember having diaries when I was very young and trying to hide them from my mother, desperately hoping for even just one minute of solitude.  But, I never got that moment of isolated contemplation because my well-hidden diaries were always found…and read by my mother.  I usually paid an emotional price for my private thoughts.  I always have and still do at times.  I stopped writing for many years when I realized my dearest, most personal childhood thoughts could never be mine alone if I continued to print them in my diaries.
 

As an adult, I started writing again about animals.  Actually, I was reading a blog written by my friend, Kathy Pobloskie, for a very long time before I decided to start my own.  Remembering what happened when I was a schoolgirl, I thought I had to write about a subject other than myself, so I picked animals like Kathy had for her blog. 

I love animals.  I have three dogs, a community cat, and many fish…and I still write about animals because I want others to share my affection for them.  But, I got to thinking and realized animals are not my world…God is.  My faith is what drives me to do anything and everything, including writing about animals and, above all, God.  I am not a theologian, preacher or whatever else there is to be called in the faith world.  I hold no titles in this arena even though that sort of recognition was once very important to me.

My blog, this blog, won’t have any giveaways that I know about.  That could change in the future, though.  I don’t understand the giveaway thing anyway.  But, then again, that shows you I am not really educated in the world of blogging.  I guess I’m merely educated about my adoration for God.

So, if you would like to join me on my life’s journey, I invite you to follow, to partake in the thoughts of my mind.  In parting, I again invite you to participate in the journey of my life, wherever that may take me…and you.