Who Are You Going to Believe?

Two of my favorite pastimes are reading and doing word puzzles (crosswords, anacrostics, cryptographs, etc.) They are helpful in "disconnecting" my brain from all the things around me, and giving me a much-needed break.  I've always enjoyed reading and puzzles, but they became more a part of my "therapy" as my health continued deteriorating.  (They not only help me unwind;  I have learned a lot through them.)                                                

Years ago, reading a novel - I can't even remember the title - I came across something that so impressed me that I still haven't forgotten it.  I'll try to give you an idea, although I may not get details exactly right.  But the details aren't that important...the point of this incident is.

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Set in India, I think in the 1800's, a young British man married a lovely maiden, and although they started out well, in a short time he began to treat her badly.  She suffered a lot under his abuse - mostly psychological - but she had nowhere to turn, and stayed with him.

One day he was wounded in a serious accident (or maybe it was a skirmish with an opposing band), with a head injury that kept him hanging in the balance for a while.  When he began to recuperate, he saw his wife and wondered who that lovely woman was.  He couldn't remember anything from before the accident.  He seemed to recognize his environment, why he was in India, and what he was doing there, but his personal life had been erased by amnesia.

Once he found out that he was actually married to this lovely woman, he asked her many questions about their life together.  The most important one he asked was, "What kind of husband was I?  How did I treat you?"

What could she say?  This was an opportunity to make him pay for his past mistreatment of her.  She might have let him know what an insufferable chauvinist he had been!

But instead of that...she lied.  She told him that he had been a considerate husband...gentle and tender...loving and seeing to their needs...strong and even-tempered...probably all the things she wished he had been.  In a sense it wasn't a total lie, because I think she knew that he was capable of being all that!

And, because he believed that he was what his wife told him he was, he became just that!  He determined to continue being the kind of husband he now thought he had been before his mishap.
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We tend to forget how our words influence the self-perception of others, don't we?  My mom told me about a young girl who wasn't getting very good grades at school, and her mother would berate her and say she was dumb and even stupid, because she did poorly.  So my mom suggested she use a different approach.  She stopped telling her daughter that she wasn't smart, and instead tried to make her feel accepted and loved, and told her she knew she would do her best in school.  The girl's grades began to improve....and it turned out that she was actually quite intelligent... but she had been told that she wasn't, so "why bother?"

Although this illustration from the book isn't meant to condone lying (that's not its point),  it's true that choosing a positive, uplifting approach over a negative, down-putting one can often work wonders.  Words can be very powerful!
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Now...what if there are conflicting opinions about yourself flying around...either from others or inside your own mind?  Which ones are true? Maybe sometimes you're not sure what you are! (or even why, when, how and where!) 

There is so much one could say, many books that have been written.  But let's just remember that those of us who are believers in God and his Son Jesus as our Savior are:  accepted and forgiven (Colossians 2:13).  We are citizens of Heaven (Philippians 3:20) and members of God's household (Ephesians 2:19).

As if that weren't enough,  God loves us so much that He expends incredible attention and care on our behalf, and we are objects of His...
   -- love (Ephesians  2:4)
   -- grace (Romans 5:2)
   -- power (Ephesians 1:19)
   -- faithfulness (Hebrews 13:5)
   -- peace (John 14:27)
   -- encouragement (Romans 15:4,5)
   -- intercession (Hebrews 7:25)

The Bible says so, and God never lies!  And if God cares for us, calls to us, seeks us out...that says a LOT about how very much we mean to Him, how valuable we are.  He doesn't throw our sins and unworthiness in our face or rub our noses in our insignificance.  Satan, the Accuser, does that!  So which one are you going to believe?

Who Said "Furlough" is a Vacation???

Not a missionary, I'm sure! HCJB actually had a different name for it: Home Ministry Assignment.  Yes, you basically go back to your country of origin (and maybe to others where you have people on your support team) to visit your friends and family, and renew ties...AND to  contact those of your prayer and financial supporters that you can, to report to them and update them on your ministries.  You go back in order to work! Obviously, there's time to relax and enjoy some recreational activities, but it's NOT one big vacation!

I always thought that "Home Ministry Assignment" didn't quite fit us.  I mean, in going to the States, we weren't going home!  Home is Ecuador.  We had to go overseas!  So I still think of it as "furlough".  We took our first one after we'd been back in Quito for four years (1996-1997).  We settled into a small house in a Dallas suburb, close to where we had lived for those three years when we were trying to build up our support team.  Debbie was going into 10th grade, and we enrolled her in the small Christian school where she and Dan had studied before. My parents, and my sister and her boys lived not too far away.

With Debbie in school, we couldn't just take off and travel whenever we felt like it.  I think we only made one longer deputation trip during that school year, and Debbie stayed with my folks while we were gone.  Otherwise trips were limited.  Germán got a part-time job at an MK's mechanic shop, which helped with our finances. Our support has never been very high, and it costs a lot more to live in the States than in Ecuador!  We also took care of my two nephews (remember Tito and Agie?), picking them up from school and having them at home until my sister got off work.

One advantage to being in the States was that Dan could come see us more easily!  If I remember correctly, he came two or three times - better than once a year!  It was his last full year in the Marines, and the following summer (1998) he was released from the Marines early so that he could start the school year at Azusa Pacific University.
                                                                                                                                                     
We had always thought it would be great to go to one of the Mayo Clinics, renowned for their diagnostic services, and have me thoroughly

tested for just about everything!  My health was not good, but it wasn't easy to pinpoint exactly what all was wrong. We wanted to know if earlier medical opinions had been right. The trouble was, it's really hard to get an appointment "right away", and that's when we needed it, if we got it at all.  We were returning to Ecuador, and couldn't wait too long.  My father went to work on the phone, and managed to get me the appointment! (I'm sure my Father had something to do with it, too!)

We were blessed to stay at an elderly woman's house (no charge) fairly close to the Clinic (in Scottsdale, AZ).  And our health insurance covered absolutely everything!  Amazing!  We didn't even have to handle the paperwork.  They told us to have the Clinic send all the bills straight to them.  In the final evaluation, I learned several things, among them:  I had broken a rib at some time - no idea when; I had osteoarthritis and a dis-functional sacroiliac; and the doctor who put me on prednisone had "messed up" quite a few years of my life!  (Those are the approximate words the Mayo doctor himself used.)  I had been told I'd need to be on prednisone for the rest of my life, so the idea of weaning myself off of it was liberating!  No more puffy, red, ugly face!


After that, we drove over to California to see Dan once again, before heading back. We returned to Ecuador in the summer of 1997.  Debbie prepared to start 11th grade, and we settled back into our routines of life and ministry.  Although it was good to see people, be with family, and be able to go to the Mayo Clinic, we were SO glad to be HOME!
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But someday, we'll be going to our REAL Home!!  The one down here on earth won't last forever.  Paul said that we have "an eternal house in heaven". (II Cor. 5:1)
                             

                                                                               
And Jesus said, " In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you.  I am going there to prepare a place for you.  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with Me that you also may be where I am.  You know the way to the place where I am going."
(John 14:2-4)

I hope with all my heart that YOU will be going there, too!
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Into The Tuba...a poem for when you feel inadequate

         
                                                               INTO THE TUBA

                                                     The instruments prepare each part.  
                                                      But see... not all are there.                                                

    Musicians wait for Me to start,
    but there's an empty chair.

         I know...it's mine.  But I'm nervous and...I mean,
         what if I'm all out of tune and tempo and
         throw the others off and
         can't keep up and
                                                               when it's my turn for a solo I mess up and
                                                               everyone notices and
                                                         I stick out like a sore thumb                                         

                                and can't I just go hide somewhere?
                                           I could crawl into the tuba
                                     or under the drums or something
                                     and nobody would miss me
                                                    and...oh, help.          
           

I would miss you.  Here, take My Hand and
Come...I need you in your place.
Here's how you can keep pace: look straight at Me!

                              Look straight at Me, and soon you'll find
                              the "butterflies" have flown.
                             My strength swirls through your solo line-
                             you need not play alone!

                        Remember whose life-passioned art                                                         

                                           you must depend upon.

                                               I lift My Hand...
                            now lift your heart to answer My baton!
                                                          
                  ********************************-Becky Rhon************

When we had been back in Quito for several years, a lovely family came to live in the second house on our property.  They became our very-next-door neighbors.  They had three small children, but since they wanted five, they continued trying to add to their nest.  They were thrilled when she got pregnant, and they were eager, at the end of the nine months, to meet their new child.  The night they went to the hospital for the delivery, I stayed with the kids, and during breakfast we were all excited about seeing the baby.


Then they called...their little new-born had arrived with several serious physical problems.  Later during the day, the children were allowed into the hospital room, and were able to hold their new sibling in their arms and admire him before he slipped away into the arms of Jesus...after only nine hours of life.

 Though no one could grieve as deeply as they did, we came awfully close!  It was a heart-breaking time, one with a lot of feeling down and unsure, puzzled and disoriented.  God held their hearts through it all, and though it left a scar, they know they have a beautiful little boy waiting up in Heaven for them.

They lived here beside us for a couple of years, then bought their own house.  When they drove away for the last time, with all their remaining things,  the kids looked around, confused, and asked their parents, "But...aren't Uncle Germán and Aunt Becky coming with us?" They assumed that we were part-and-parcel of the deal!
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Jesus said, "If a man remains in Me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from Me you can do nothing." (John 15:5)

We may not understand everything that happens to us, but if we remember to keep looking at our divine Conductor, we can continue to play our part in His symphony.  Just keep watching His baton, and let your heart answer Him.

God bless every one of you!

Angel Mail Carrier?

                                                                                                                                      

The four of us were sitting in the living room watching a movie, something we enjoyed doing as a family.  I think it was "Titanic".  We had been comfortably ensconced in front of the TV for a while, when...suddenly I started to cry!

No, it wasn't the movie; we hadn't reached the sad part yet! It was as if something inside of me broke through and tried to get my attention by triggering my tears.  I think it was more likely Someone.  I had no idea why I was crying; hadn't the foggiest notion!  But I felt such an intense need to pray for my sister that I cried out, "Stop the movie!"

"We have to pray for Carol!" After I explained to the rest, we prayed together. Then the "storm" abated, calm descended once again, and we finished the movie with no further interruptions.  But I decided that I would write to my sister later and ask her what had happened at that specific time.

 I wrote her a letter that evening, and Germán mailed it the next day.  This was before the speed of communicating on the internet!  It was going through the normal international mail, which would take from a week to ten days. I calculated how long it would take to get my sister's answer: at least a week before she got my letter, a couple of days for her to write me back, and then at least another week for hers to arrive here. So about two-and-a-half weeks...that was the minimum time within which I could expect her letter.

Imagine our surprise when we got her answer...only a week-and-a-bit later!  WAY before it was logical to expect it.  How had that happened?  I couldn't explain it, except to wonder if maybe an angel had plucked the letters out from the regular mail and deposited them in our mail boxes, so that we would get them right away!                                                                                                             

It turned out that, right about the time I had "mysteriously" started crying and we had prayed for her, my sister and her boys had been in physical danger (from another person). The danger passed, but for that moment, she had definitely needed God's protection!
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Isaiah is one of my favorite books of the Bible.  In chapter 41, it says:  "For I am the Lord your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you."  (vs. 13)
 
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Have you ever had an experience like this...a prompting to pray for someone urgently?  If so, I'd love to hear about it.

God bless you all!

"Touch the Hem"...a song of hope, for inner wholeness

                              Touch the Hem
                                                                                                             

         If I could only reach out and touch the hem,
         reach out and touch the hem of Jesus' robe;
         if I could only reach out and touch Him,
         I know that His power would heal my soul.

                 I feel like the woman in the crowd,
                 pushing to see which way to go,
                 knowing that even if Jesus never looked her way,
                 still His great virtue could flow down,
                 tapping the lifeline of His power;
                 so, keeping her eyes on Him, repeatedly she'd say,

                                  If I could only reach out and touch the hem,
                                  reach out and touch the hem of Jesus' robe;
                                  if I could only reach out and touch Him,
                                  I know that His power would heal my soul...                 
                                                                                                                                    

                         breaking the fetters of my fear,
                        draining the poison of my pride,
changing my muddled moods to vision clean and clear;

        

bruises from times I've fallen hard,
scars from the breaking of my heart,
and all of my bleeding battle wounds would feel His tears.
                                                

                   And all of the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle of my life               

                   would start to fall into place;
    and all of the dreams that drove me from reality
    would fade when I saw His face.

And all of my poems' unfinished verse,
with lines that never rhymed,
He'd change into a tribute to His glory.
And all of my songs that lost their chords,
and ended out of tune,
He'd use to write an "ode to joy".
                                                                                       

I can do more than reach out and touch the hem,
more than just touch the hem of Jesus' robe.
I can come freely, reach out and run to Him,
and know that His love and power will heal my soul.

I'll live with His love and power inside my soul!

   ************** (song lyrics by Becky Rhon)*************


Unlike the woman in the crowd, we don't have to push and shove to try to get to Jesus.  He's waiting for each of us with open arms!  I wrote this song 24 years ago, but its words still bring comfort.  I hope they do for you, too. 

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