The Pursuit

I Never Thought...

2012-01-31T12:43:00.000-08:00

I never thought I’d find myself bargain shopping for diabetic supplies, but I found myself doing just that today. That’s when it hit me. My life just changed.

I was admitted to Lynchburg General Hospital on Saturday for high blood sugar. I went to the hospital after finally realizing I couldn’t ignore my constant thirst or the fact that I had to pee all the time. So late Saturday night I sucked it up and went to the ER. Turns out it was a good decision – my blood sugar was 802. With normal blood sugar being between 80-140 I felt somewhat proud of my accomplishment. My friend and I joked that I set the diabetes high score. After getting an IV of insulin and being transferred to the diabetic/renal floor (don’t let the name fool you, this floor is a madhouse of fun…you get all the diet soda you want AND graham crackers), I started to settle in for my stay.

Sunday and Monday were full of visits from friends, my new endocrinologist, pastors, and my favorite professor. Now it’s Tuesday and I find myself anxious to get the heck out of here. As I began packing up I finally realized that my life just changed. It started after I ordered a medical alert bracelet that says “DIABETES!” on it and fully sunk in after I put a nifty card that says “If I’m acting weird I’m not drunk I’m diabetic…and dying so help me!” in my wallet.

In the midst of all this change it would be easy to ask the question “why me?” But honestly, the thought hasn’t really crossed my mind. Perhaps it’s too soon and I’ll cross that theologically perilous bridge when I get to it; but maybe I won’t for one simple reason: grace.

Easily one of the most overused, misunderstood words in the world, grace is all we’ve got. Simply put, it’s unearnable kindness. God is just kind because…there’s no reason for it except that is just who He is; and I have seen a lot of grace this week. I saw grace when I walked into the ER and saw my nurse friend in triage who quickly processed, checked, and started treatment within an hour. I saw grace when I found out that I should have been in a coma on Saturday night but was somehow alert and in a pretty good mood. I saw grace when I first suspected I had diabetes and my friend Joel let me borrow his blood sugar testing kit to check – the ultimate reason I went to the ER. I saw grace in the fact that I’m wired to love running and if I hadn’t been training for a marathon I would likely be dead from high blood sugar. I saw grace in friends who spent the night in the hospital, prayed for me, brought me diet coke and clothes and even homework. I saw grace in the fact that I am not nearly as sick as those around me. A few patients here can’t eat or drink anything - a few people are both diabetic and cancer patients.

John Piper says “the life that I have left is all grace.” Simply put, the only thing that will sustain me from here until eternity is grace. Grace upon grace. Don’t misread this as if I’m really happy I have type I diabetes – nope, not even close. Going to bed alone in a hospital is not fun for many reasons, one of which being the solitude that forces you to realize that you have to relearn how to live in many ways (I had a snickers, mocha, and three musketeers bar on Saturday for a snack…probably shouldn’t do that too often anymore). But in the midst of that, grace abounds, and life, though different, continues on in the goodness given to us. Difficulties, trials, and trouble have and will come; they will be overcome not by blind perseverance or a naïve refusal to acknowledge the pain, but in grace upon grace upon grace until the end of the age. All glory, honor, and praise to God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, for they are gracious beyond measure.

Just Another Day

2011-07-26T03:46:00.000-07:00

I woke up today, got dressed, ate breakfast, and left for work at the nutrition center. My mind wandered over numerous things – no profound revelations on the 20 minute walk to work – just thinking about ordinary things. As I walked into the clinic/nutrition compound I was greeted by women pumping water from our well. At Tessa Grace mothers, grandmothers, and young brothers and sisters waited with their babies for the day to start. It was a normal day – devotions at 9:00am with the mothers, nutrition consultations from 9:15-10:30am, email and sponsorship work at 11:00am. Nothing fantastic, or even noteworthy.

Just another day. Routine, ordinary, familiar. Yet in the midst of regularity, I became keenly aware of the miraculous. In a country where 1 in 5 children die before their 5^th birthday, I saw dozens of babies who were healthy, happy, and growing. My mere presence in Mozambique is nothing short of miraculous given my status as a graduate student who doesn’t have time to work during the school year. A 3-year old boy I know just started walking a few days ago – most children who don’t start walking by 2 here will be lame because of lack of specialized care.

Certainly these things aren’t miraculous in terms of God changing the fabric of the universe, altering the set laws of physics, chemistry, and biology. From my experience God doesn’t work that way a lot – in fact if He did, we’d probably question His wisdom – why didn’t He set the laws of the universe differently so He didn’t have to constantly alter the fabric of the cosmos to get things done? These things are miraculous in a different way. In the midst of overwhelming odds, over 100 children are growing, thriving, and enjoying life in our small corner of Africa. In spite of my very selfish, sinful heart, God has brought me here to teach me how to love and serve the poor, for whom He has a special place in His heart.

While not miraculous in the sense of monumental, drastic interventions, I think we experience the miraculous every day. Indeed, Christ is the One in whom “we live and move and have our being.” His blessings and our involvement in His plan are miraculous. The miraculous abounds when strong opposition exists – be it an impoverished nation or a selfish heart – God’s daily, miraculous intervention in spite of so many things ensures that no day for any believer could ever be said to be just another day.

The Beat

2011-07-12T13:21:00.000-07:00

Africa and music. To a lot of people these words can become synonymous. In fact most people when they go home after visiting Africa usually have something to say about the indescribable music that permeates life here. Whether a soft children’s song or a hymn of praise or funeral chant, music plays an integral part of life here. I myself am musically challenged and it’s taken me a little time to understand how vital it is to life here. Friday nights are spent with friends around a small fire singing songs – often with no instruments save a small drum made of a tree stump and animal skin.

At church on Sunday night the music was more engaging than normal. It wasn’t the lyrics that caught my attention – it was the beat. We were singing a popular song (I call it “Wakaviyaya” but I don’t know what the real name is) and when we got to the chorus the entire congregation erupted into an unbelievable and indescribable rhythm of clapping. Some clapped every beat. Others clapped four times per beat. Still others at an irregular cadence. And some every other beat. I joined the fast clappers and enjoyed the song. When we sang the verse again everyone resumed a normal rhythm, only to erupt afresh when we hit the chorus again. My friend Leome sat on one side, and Mario across the aisle. None of us were clapping to the same beat. As worship closed and our Pastor began to deliver his message, I was keenly aware of a growing sense of contentment.

In Africa, you could truly say that life is music. To be alive is to sing, clap, and dance. To die is to leave the land of earthly song and dance. As I reflect on that night of worship I think about all the different beats. My beat was different than Leome’s, and neither of us had the same beat as Mario. As I look at that I can’t help but smile. Just as in African song every person has a unique beat, so it is in life. The beauty of the song is not an individual beat, but the collaboration of dozens of different beats – each sharing and revealing a small bit of the person behind it. The beauty of life is not uniformity, but diversity. As I type in Africa, some of you are working to pay for schools, others serving in ministry roles, and others embarking on new journeys with a new bride. The beauty of life is not in one single story, but in the collaboration of the stories of those we cross paths with. In Africa, no song worth listening to has one beat – they are made of dozens. So in life, we embrace this beautiful gift of God – our beat is our own, unique, unrepeatable; but it is part of something much larger than ourselves, a song made by the people we know and love, a song that praises the beauty and diversity of our Maker.

Wishing and Knowing

2011-07-03T12:42:00.000-07:00

To a friend who lives and works on the streets of Beira, and spent his birthday there today:

I wish I could tell you how much your friendship means to me and others,

I know I can’t speak Portuguese that well.

I wish you had a home to celebrate your birthday in today.

I know you spent it working for a few dollars to feed yourself.

I wish you had a warm place to sleep tonight.

I know you are sleeping in a slum in the middle of the winter.

I wish you had a father who loved and mentored you.

I know that most men in your life have abandoned you.

I wish you knew how much spending time with you encourages me,

I know you have days when you want to quit.

I wish I could articulate how deeply and desperately God loves you,

I know you feel alone and unwanted at times.

I wish we could switch places.

I know we can’t.

I wish you could meet my friends from school.

I know they would sacrifice everything they have to help you

and show you love.

I wish I could make all your trials and pain go away,

I know your eternal reward will surpass the hardship you

experience now.

Happy Birthday. Know that you are loved by many, even if you haven’t met them yet.

-Zach

Summer

2011-06-28T13:08:00.000-07:00

Growing up I never thought the day would come when I would utter the words, “I hate summer break.” In fact, if a younger version of myself heard me say those words, he would probably disown the lame, older version.

I guess if I’m honest, I don’t hate summer break. My brain certainly enjoys a break from school projects, research papers, endless debates on what certain words actually mean in Greek, and sifting through debates on what “tongues” really are. Those things are well and good, and the nerd in me actually really enjoys learning about them, but those are not for the summer. Nope, summer is for…well that’s the thing, I don’t really know how to answer that anymore.

Summer break used to be basketball camp, trips to the swimming pool, barbecues, spending the night at a friends’ house, camping, and no shortage of fireworks on the Fourth of July. Even once I got older and had a job it was still a time to spend with friends and family – even after I went to school in Virginia.

These past two summers have been different though. By God’s grace, I have been able to work in Dondo, Mozambique with Children’s Relief International. Last year I served as an intern and this year I work on staff as our nutrition sponsorship coordinator (I totally made that title up – I don’t really have a title, but I am responsible for getting our nutrition sponsorship program up and running…no title, sweet job though – and I am on staff). The days are full of activity. I spent the last two weeks shooting and editing video to make a sponsorship video for Tessa Grace Nutrition Center (it’s here if you want to watch it: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?sk=group_13256065628&ap=1) and doing other stuff for sponsorships. In fact if I look at the days, they are pretty identical to the last few summers I’ve had. Granted I worked at a day camp one year and fireworks warehouse the year after that, but nonetheless, during the day I worked.

The reason summer is hard to define, the reason in my darker moments I think “I hate summer break,” is because of the nights. Unlike the states, nighttime overseas is pretty quiet. Most of our staff are in their houses for the evening by 5:30pm when the sun sets and our relentless enemies, mosquitoes, come out to pester anything or one who goes out at night. After dinner and a shower, a lot of times I don’t know what to do. From 7-10pm can be a pretty long stretch. I often fill it with old episodes of The Office or LOST, or movies, or I read; but inevitably those things get old and I don’t want to do them anymore. So then I turn to facebook and email which probably occupies about 20 minutes of time. I look at the clock, 9:00pm. One more hour until bedtime, unless I pop some Benadryl and just go to bed, which is tempting. In the midst of all the distractions I use to fill my time from 7-10 in the past two months in Africa, I guess I’ve been coming to grips with a simple truth I’ve wanted to avoid: the mission field is lonely. Though surrounded by thousands of people just a stones throw away from my house, and several incredible, godly staff members, at night, the reality of being away from my native culture, from my dearest and deepest friends, and from everything familiar, sets in.

As I think about my time here, I am happy I came. The work is incredibly rewarding, the people are amazing, and the food is delicious. On a personal level, as I reflect on the reality of loneliness that characterizes the work we do, I am comforted by the words of Christ. After healing the demoniac (Mark 4), Christ gave the newly delivered man an odd request: stay behind. Though the man pleaded to come with Jesus, the Lord told him to stay. It’s such a peculiar command. We always emphasize Christ’s call to follow Him with complete faith and total disregard for all we have – yet we gloss over the times when He says “stay where you are – you may feel far from me and all that you want, but stay there.” For the guy who just had a bunch of demons driven out of him that probably was the most disheartening thing he could have heard. Ironically, for him, and us, following Christ, sometimes means staying behind – feeling far from the things we want the most, an intimate relationship with the Lord and those who understand us most and with whom we most deeply connect.

The healed man probably had no idea why Christ asked him to stay behind. Yet the Gospel of Mark records that when Christ returned again, the entire region came to meet Him –all because that man stayed behind, despite how personally difficult it was, and provided testimony to God’s goodness. So whether it be a guy newly delivered from a thousand demons or a single missionary in Africa or a college student working his fingers numb to pay for school or a pastor who feels ganged up on, we all can rest in the simple truth that sometimes God calls us to stay behind, work diligently, and wait for Him to make His perfect and good plan known.

Monday

2011-06-23T09:07:00.000-07:00

June 13, 2011

6:00am – alarm goes off. Snooze.

6:05am – alarm goes off again – I wonder why my Snooze is only 5 minutes long. Snooze again.

6:08am – alarm goes – time to wake up.

7:30am – Car ride to Beira. I am going with a friend to the hospital for an ultrasound.

8:30am – The Hospital schedules my friend for an appointment later in the week; we call another missionary and decide to run errands with her in the city before returning to Dondo for lunch and work in the afternoon.

9:00am – Robbed while buying vegetables. Two cameras and an iPod touch stolen out of my bag.

9:45am – Police Station. They say we are at the wrong police station and send us across town.

10:30am – Police Station #2. Filling out Police Report. The cops ask for money to pay for gas to hunt down the thieves. I decline…and sense the chances of getting my stuff back decrease.

11:15am – Orange Soda.

12:00pm – Shoprite (think Mozambican Grocery Store)

1:00pm – Lunch back in Dondo. I tell my boss her camera got stolen along with my stuff…she says she’s glad I didn’t get knifed.

2:00pm – Visiting mothers in the nutrition program to pray with them and have Bible Study.

5:00pm – Dinner

6:00pm – Email and Facebook

8:00pm – Exercise in my room while listening to “Mumford & Sons”

10:00pm – Bedtime after some chocolate and an episode of “The Office” on DVD.

3:00am – Wake up to use the restroom…I realize I drink way too much before bed, but I’m grateful for bladder control.

6:30am – Wake up...

The Last Enemy

2011-06-07T12:55:00.000-07:00

Gilda Butelho. A name that has no real significance for us when we first hear it. I must confess that as today began I had no idea who Gilda was; by dinner I knew I would never forget her.

I arrived at the morgue this afternoon. I was attending Gilda’s funeral with Hope and Pam, two other American workers. As we waited outside the morgue in the still African heat I was taken aback at how many people were waiting to accompany Gilda’s casket to the cemetery. After a few moments the doors to the morgue opened and the unmistakable sound of wailing overwhelmed the soft conversations of those waiting. A group of women trailed behind a narrow casket that was loaded onto a pick-up truck. A group of about 30 people stood and boarded a flatbed truck while the rest of the people remained seated silently.

I realized then that the majority of people waiting at the morgue were not attending Gilda’s funeral, but numerous others. I watched as family after family came to deliver caskets for their loved ones. In an economy suffering from inflation and under-development it was sadly apparent that the casket-maker and grave-digger need not worry about unemployment.

After about an hour we were ushered into a small room inside the morgue where a simple, narrow black coffin lay on a table. Gilda’s family and friends opened in a soft song. The pastor spoke a few words and prayed. Everyone was quiet. Once Pam moved her pick up to the main door to carry Gilda to the cemetery, the silence was broken by the sobs of young women. Gilda’s mother seemed upon the brink of collapse and was supported by her sisters. After the casket was loaded into the truck we departed for the cemetery.

Gilda’s brothers carried her casket to her grave, about 100 yards from the cemetery entrance. As we weaved our through the innumerable graves I noticed how many had birth and death dates within the same decade – and more than a few within the same year.

After a brief service, Gilda was buried beneath a large palm tree.

I will never forget that funeral. The despair and sadness were tangible – yet one unshakeable reason for hope remained – Gilda was a believer. During the service my mind wandered to 1 Corinthians 15:26, “The last enemy to be destroyed is death.” I felt a measure of hope in this truth: death shall be undone. We cannot understand why Jesus has not yet destroyed the great enemy of His people and ultimately abolished death itself and so we rest in the knowledge of his grace and lovingkindness, trusting that He will sustain us. And we hope, knowing that the day comes when all wrongs shall be righted, when faith shall be sight, when sin and temptation shall cease – when death shall be destroyed.

Back Again

2011-05-28T10:58:00.000-07:00

Having landed in Mozambique nearly two weeks ago, the fog of jet lag and travel have started to wear off. After a couple days of irregular sleeping, I was back to normal, sort of, and was overjoyed to see so many familiar faces. From Joaquim, a friend and makeshift security guard who recently accepted the Lord, to Afonso, Fernando, and Casely (the three amigos), to Simone, Val, Kathy, Todd, Chelye and other CRI staff. I was happy to see so many infants in our nutrition program gaining weight, and our program growing (though our budget has not grown proportionally yet).

Yet for all the things that caused joy, I was keenly reminded that Mozambique is still a place where much work remains to be done. Today while walking with Val we noticed a bush outside our house that looked odd. Val commented that the bush helped keeps snakes away because their smell. She said Antonio, an old friend had told her that. She then quietly whispered “God rest his soul.” It was a jarring moment. Later in the afternoon Val and Kathy left to visit the church plant in Centro Emissor; a young boy passed away last night – they were attending his funeral.

As May rolls into June, I realize and am grateful for all the work God has done in Mozambique, and the privilege it has been to be a part of it. Yet Mozambique is still a land where so many wrongs have yet to be righted, and far too many suffer in poverty and oppression. Antonio and Fatima’s son are jarring and saddening reminders of this. Praise God that He continues to work here, and that we have been allowed to be the instruments of rescue for the hopeless, and through us, He continues to right the wrongs of sin and oppression.

At the Airport

2011-05-16T06:17:00.001-07:00

Welp, here I am sitting at the airport in New York City. Having checked my luggage, gone through security, walked around a little, and grabbed some breakfast, I now am sitting and waiting to board a plane to Mozambique.

The past three days have been some of the most incredible, blessing filled moments of my life. I graduated from Liberty University on Saturday morning, not before having one last laughter filled, hilarious night on my dorm. 10 seniors from my dorm graduated with me. We got up around 7am (seriously, who plans graduation to be so early in the morning?) to get dressed. We walked onto the football where our graduation was held at about 9. After a great commencement address, we parted ways, many of us saying goodbye for indefinite periods of time. After that I went to my graduation ceremony for the School of Religion. My parents, and three good friends came along with me to watch the ceremony. After that we had a quick lunch at Applebee’s, goodbyes with the parents, and a night of packing up my dorm room.

I spent Saturday at Charlie’s house. It was a pretty relaxing day – I went for a run, watched a couple movies with Charlie, Ian, and Marshall and got some great Mexican food (I will miss that soooo much this summer). At 9pm, Charlie, Lance, Marshall, and I jumped in the car and headed off to New York City. I couldn’t ask for better friends – they came just because they wanted to spend time with me before I left the States…and that is commitment because driving for 9 hours and ending in New York City traffic is a pretty stressful combo. After saying my last goodbyes I walked into the airport, checked in, went through security, and now here I sit.

I am exceedingly grateful for all that God has given me this year. From teaching me the value of friendship to showing me He is trustworthy, I have been astounded in the past 5 months at all God has shown and taught me. As I look forward to living in Mozambique for three months, I can’t help but smile – leaving great friends and family is hard, but I know my absence from all of you does not negate our genuine love and care for each other. Looking at the past I smile, and looking at the future I look forward with anticipation – if God has been good to me this far, how can I not trust that He will do the same in the next three months.

As you read this, I am probably on a plane somewhere over the Atlantic – hopefully in a Benadryl induced coma if I can help it. I’ll be writing soon, and would love to hear how your summer is going as well. God bless – I’ll write you from the other side J

Change

2011-05-11T22:52:00.000-07:00

I don’t know about you, but I think May is a time of year I can easily describe with one word – busy. The past few weeks have been filled with so many different events, tests, papers, projects, and miscellaneous work that just sitting here writing about it makes me feel tired.

For me, this May is particularly daunting. In less than two days I will be graduating from Liberty University with my undergraduate degree in Biblical studies and another in Health Education. Two days after that I will be boarding a plane for Mozambique where I will be working all summer. Living on campus has been one of the greatest blessings of my life; but as I walked the floor tonight I was struck by how lonely and quiet it seemed. Rather than hearing the constant background noise of X-Box games, random music ranging from bluegrass to death metal, and eclectic conversations on topics equally as random (Calvinism to what kind of oil to use on high mileage cars to the newest movie at the dollar theatre) I was greeted with a cold silence that left feelings of melancholy.

To be honest, two overwhelming thoughts and emotions come to mind as I think about this incredible season of change and busyness. Firstly, to be frank – I’m somewhat frightened. I’ve been to Mozambique before, and I am coming back to Liberty for seminary next year, yet as a finite creature with very limited knowledge, the unknown future always maintains a certain ambiguity that I find unsettling. I understand that change is a good thing and is necessary for growth, but if I’m perfectly honest I kind of hate it at times. I think we all long for a degree of permanency in our lives that we know in the back of our minds is unattainable, at least in this life. Change evokes fears that unsettle.

Secondly, and more importantly, I am overcome with a spirit of gratitude. God has given me an abundance of blessings in these past four years. The first and biggest blessing I think of is friends. From guys I met freshmen year to the guys I was able to develop a deeply satisfying friendship in the past 5 months, I have been abundantly blessed with friends I do not deserve. Thinking about all I have been given simply in the friends God has provided overwhelms me. On top of the deeply satisfying gift of friends I have been give so much more: opportunities to bless and be blessed by ministry, world class teachers, constant support from my family, a new ministry being prepared for me after seminary with CRI, and so many other things I cannot begin to enumerate. Though this time of change may be marked by a certain bittersweet mood, I cherish every moment I have had in these past four years. I could not have even imagined a life this blessed. God in His exceedingly abundant grace has given me beyond all that I could ask or think of. With a Heavenly Father who has given me so much in the past four years, I know the next three months will be marked by further growth and blessing, even in the midst of change and uncertainty. For that truth, I am exceedingly grateful.

Shame and Communion

2011-03-16T17:17:00.001-07:00

I have been lucky enough this past week to take a break from school. While spring break holds no beach getaway or even a trip home, so far it has been a lot of fun relaxing and spending time with friends. Last week, as spring break approached, my friends and I started talking about old sin patterns we feared we would fall into again. After talking and praying with our accountability group, a friend and I talked about our post-salvation experiences. I was somewhat reluctant to admit that it was after salvation that I had committed more shameful sins. That conversation has stuck with me for the past week.

We, or at the least I, wrongly think that I need not feel shame for past sins. To an extent I completely agree. The sacrifice of our Savior removed all eternal shame from us. But the fact remains that, while in the flesh, we all carry within ourselves an incredible capacity for evil. As I prepared for break, I began to realize that many of my most shameful moral failings had occurred after salvation. I don’t think we are meant to merely brush our post-conversion sin aside. I think the reason why I and many others fall prey to moments of spiritual highs followed by crashing moments of sin and despair is because we have failed to cultivate within ourselves a healthy fear of our capacity for evil. Of late, I have been reminded that I am able and more than capable of committing heinous sin. We must realize and daily apply the sobering and humbling truth that, while in the flesh, we are still able of and, if we are honest, do sin grievously. From sexual failings, to jealousy, to greed, to materialism, to an unkind spirit – you name it, we can do it. As A.W. Tozer wrote, our sins “are not something we do, they are something we are, and therein lies both their subtlety and power.”

This may all sound like incredibly dark thinking that provides no real benefits. Yet I believe it does. Having recently been forced to see my own sins as a Christian, I have been blessed with a healthy fear of myself. Pride has a hard time welling up when I think about what I am capable of doing and in fact have done since salvation. Greater awareness of our own sin forces us to depend on God. As Christians there is nothing more satisfying, more fulfilling, than communion with the Lord. Shames ultimate purpose then, is not to cripple and paralyze, but to draw us nearer to our saving Lord. To compel us to trust Him to be our strength, to see us through temptation, and restore us when we do sin. Such dependence is sweeter than any man can describe for it is the divinely established purpose of man. How great a God we serve, that He uses shame to cultivate a deeper relationship with His children.

Another Week at Liberty

2011-02-10T13:35:00.000-08:00

As January has rolled into February, I find myself back in the everyday rhythm of school and life as a college student. This semester has been a lot easier academically – go figure my last semester in undergrad would be the easiest. My classes are endurable, though the only one I can truly say I enjoy is Exodus. The more I study the Old Testament, the more I realize how little I know. My professor was reading from Exodus 3 today and early in the class he was reading a little slower than me. For some reason, I really put an abnormal amount of thought into why he was reading so slowly. Maybe he forgot his reading glasses, or it was a different translation than he was used to? Then the humbling truth hit me – He was reading in Hebrew. There went my self-confidence. With my pride in pieces I proceeded to listen and learn from Dr. Fowler. Hands down my favorite class this semester.

My fervent job hunting continues to prove fruitless. I had a promising interview on Tuesday, but can’t be hired by that particular on campus office because I don’t qualify for work study positions as defined by the government. Still looking, but not holding my breath right now. I’ve been doing odd jobs with my friend Ryan on weekends to help pay for my work this summer in Mozambique. On a related note, I picked up a “teach yourself” Portuguese book earlier this week. So far I’ve learned how to pronounce different consonants and ask “What is this?” I had a couple tests this week, but once things slow down a little I should be able to learn a little bit more. Should be halfway decent by the time I leave in May.

The graduation countdown is on. As of this exact moment, I will be graduating in 92 days, 9 hours, and 37 minutes. I love Liberty and wouldn’t trade my time here for anything, but finishing up undergrad is pretty exciting. I have two years left here after this semester. I will be in seminary working on my Masters in Religion with a Concentration in Theology and Apologetics. Thought about getting an M.Div; maybe in the future, but not right now.

Life is life here. Nothing extraordinary happening on a daily basis. We have a basketball game tonight and I have to take a test in about an hour. I decided to write this instead of study more (sorry Mom). Hope you are all doing well J

Traitors and Ambassadors

2011-01-28T09:02:00.000-08:00

A golden thread extends throughout the whole of Scripture, revealing the grand plan of the God whose love is unconditional, who is just and the Justifier, and whose grace abounds over the sins of the believing. All too often I read a book of the Bible only within its’ immediate context – be it a paragraph or the whole book. Such narrow-vision often prevents me from seeing the overarching plan and beauty of the Redeemer. Yet some of the most classic passages of Scripture that I adore are illuminated best in the light of the whole Bible. I find spiritual revelations to be the most satisfying in nature yet the most difficult to articulate. I hope I can express the one I had to you the other day in class (sorry for not paying attention Mom) and articulate what the Holy Spirit illuminated to me.

Scripture as a whole weaves a grand epic. So often I think of other religions, how they seem to have fantastic and heroic tales of gods, heroes, and enemies. Having grown up in the church however, the story the Bible tells seems sterile in comparison. Yet the Bible tells a tale that surpasses them all.

Yahweh, the uncreated Creator, spoke creation into existence. He literally breathed the stars into existence and intimately crafted a unique creature He called man. To man he gave the blessed task of caring for creation, a vice-regent (president) of creation, subject only to the Great King. In fact the word for man (a’dam) is derived from the very word for earth (a’damah). From the beginning man had a unique unity with creation and was appointed to rule over it by the True King. Yet man rebelled, committing treason in the highest. The vice-regents of God declared cosmic civil war by sinning and were justly banished from the Garden.

Yet the eternal King, who could have justly punished the cosmic rebels, began to weave an intricate, time-consuming plan that would culminate in the redemption of those who betrayed Him. He called out a special people to Himself, promising unconditionally that they would bless the earth. Despite their sin and stubbornness, He kept His word, preserving a remnant of faithful people until one day He, God Himself, descended to the earth. The Word which spoke creation into existence came to live among the very creatures who had so violently rebelled against Him in sin. He lived among them, ministered to them, and died for them so that His righteousness might become theirs, thus securing their salvation.

It is in this context that II Corinthians 5:20 says “therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making His appeal through us.” The story of the cross and resurrection is scandalous not simply because God purchased willful rebels from sin; it is shocking because He takes cosmic traitors and transforms them into His representatives. Not only does He give us His righteousness, He gives us the privilege of serving as His ambassadors (an exchange equivalent to George Washington pardoning Benedict Arnold and then employing him as an ambassador to the British). No other gods in any religion offer salvation so freely or an honor so high. Christianity is supreme because God not only redeems mankind from sin, but has set a motion in plan to restore all that was corrupted at the fall. Not only does He save our immortal souls, but He restores us to His service. This ministry brings the deepest fulfillment because we are again appointed to by Yahweh’s representatives. We now, as redeemed men and women, carry the message of divine deliverance – the message that transforms cosmic traitors into celestial ambassadors.

A Foot in the Door

2011-01-11T18:06:00.000-08:00

I recently spent four days in Rockwall, Texas at Children Relief International’s annual Board and Staff Meeting. My time there was refreshing and invigorating as a new member of CRI staff. Filled with numerous meetings that covered topics ranging from budgets to support raising to how to improve our ministry, our time was both enjoyable and productive and punctuated with moments of laughter and joy. Bound together by unity in Christ and passion to serve the poor and oppressed around the world, I count it a privilege to be joining the Children’s Relief International family.

If I had to describe my new role with CRI, I think I would say that I have a foot in the door. So often in life, major transitions are made rapidly. High school ends and we quickly either join the work force or go to college. Single people suddenly find themselves in a completely different context after getting married – from sharing a bed to sharing a house, income, and so many other things. Unlike those quick transitions though, my new role with Children’s Relief International is transitional. While I am already working on a weekly basis with CRI to organize and implement our new nutrition sponsorship program, I am also still a student, and will continue to be one for a couple more years. During the summers I will be working full-time with CRI in Mozambique, while in the school year I will be both a student and part-time staff member helping raise funds, coordinating sponsorships, and a range of other tasks.

With every month that passes though, I get closer toward my passion to serve as a full-time missionary. While I will be a graduate student for the next two years, my role with CRI will continue to grow. I will transition gradually from a student to a missionary. From having a foot in the door to full time missionary work to having only a foot left in the realm of academics, until at last the door will close and I will find myself on the other side, invested wholly in missions. While my transition from academics to full-time missions work will be gradual over the next two years, thinking about the process excites me. Indeed it has already started, and I can’t wait to tell you more about it.

Life Now

2011-01-08T22:36:00.001-08:00

If God gives us visions of a world set right they are undoubtedly precious gifts to be cherished. Yet those visions, though blessings, also remind us of another truth: life is not the way it was meant to be – I was reminded of that while cleaning out a storage unit.

The intern team had an irregular break from our busy schedule today – there was no house or baby dedication to attend, no nutrition class to teach, and no construction projects. Four of us traveled to the Villa, the central district of the city of Dondo, where we worked for a few hours cleaning out an old storage unit at our church. As we started to sift through the contents of the storage unit it became fairly obvious that most of the objects in the room had been stored away and forgotten. Moldy paper towels, old children’s books covered in mildew, termite infested shelves, broken sewing machines, cockroaches, rats (both dead and living), maggots, and a very large lizard. After completely clearing the storage unit and sorting the useable remnants from the ruined and disgusting, we began to throw massive amounts of garbage into a pile just outside the entrance to the church. After sweeping, cleaning, and throwing away more trash for another hour, we finished our job and waited for our ride home.

In those few minutes before we left, I saw something. Women, men, and children had come in groups to scavenge through our refuse to find anything of remote value. Standing amidst shards of broken glass and boards with exposed, rusty nails, women fought over soiled rolls of paper towels and a man held up an old, shredded bed sheet and smiled as he stuffed it into a worn burlap bag.

Life was once the way it was designed to be – but that was many years ago in a garden that so often feels far removed from now. Life now is unfair, and if we are honest, seemingly impossible to reconcile with our theology. Life now is a young Christian man who wholeheartedly strives to serve the Lord being cursed by a witchdoctor, estranged from his family for his faith, and physically worn by illness. Life now is a lady who serves those dying of AIDS while herself slowly fading away because of malnutrition and sickness. Life now is a woman abandoned by her husband and family found dead, lying in a mixture of vomit, feces, and urine. Life now is demon possession and oppression. Life now is courageous, faithful, loving, compassionate, godly men and women enduring indescribable misery, torment, and pain while many complacent, proud, and self-assured believers relax amidst the innumerable comforts of the western world unconcerned and uninterested in the plight of their brothers.

Please do not misunderstand the purpose of all of this. This is neither a personal affront to anyone nor a theological treatise. This is merely the overflow of the sadness, frustration, anger, and heartache that accompany living in a world which is no longer the way it was meant to be. Praise God it will be some day, for without that hope we would come undone.

Sadly, I have no answers to explain why God has allowed life to be this way. I have no poignant insight that will negate the pain, suffering, and misery that afflict far too many in this world. I have no words of comfort that can soothe my own aching conscience. But perhaps that is the point – for if we desire to know God then that quest should inevitably lead us to that which grieves His heart: the corruption of His own creation. Perhaps we should pray less for our own comfort and something more like an old song – “Oh my God, take away my firm belief and graft my soul upon Your grief.” For in doing that we grow nearer to God and understand better our task in this life.

Sewing Machines

2011-01-08T22:35:00.000-08:00

If you asked me a year ago to describe what I thought heaven will be like, I honestly don't know if I could have given you a half decent picture. This past week however, I was privileged to get a brief glimpse of it, and thought I would share it with everyone who has faithfully supported me both financially and spiritually.

I doubt if anyone asked another person to describe heaven, they would answer that heaven is like cleaning an old sewing machine; I know I certainly would not have associated the two until this week. On Wednesday I taught basic hygiene at a preschool in the Villa district of Dondo, Mozambique. After teaching, I had a decent amount of free time until I would be picked up by my supervisor to go home for dinner. I spoke with the pastor's wife, Noemia, and she asked if I would help clean some old sewing machines to help prepare for an incoming team from Brazil to use. These things were old - like "Little House on the Prairie" or "Anne of Green Gables" old, complete with foot pedals and everything. I worked alone for a while until Afonzo, Fernando, and Fernando (different guy, same name), came over. They are all 17, and known as the "Three Amigos." They work with us as translators, but more than that they are our friends. I didn't even ask them, but they started dusting off the old machinery with me and got rags to wash them down too. I stood up for a minute to take a break and noticed that the short term team from Texas had returned early from their construction project. A couple of the ladies were talking and laughing with Maria de Fatima, a church member, while a couple of the guys were strumming on a guitar with Vicente, another translator and friend. In that brief moment, I was given an indescribable gift - a glimpse beyond this life into eternity.

When we talk about heaven, I think we often miss an integral part of God's final redemptive plan - the healing of the nations. John wrote, "Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb...on either side of the river, the tree of life. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations," (Rev. 22:1-2). What if heaven was less about the streets of gold, angels with harps, and some really big gates made of pearls; what if heaven was more about unfettered communion not just between man and God (which is for sure the greatest satisfaction and deepest joy possible), but among mankind. Heaven will be a place where the scars of this broken sinful world will be healed; scars that end in broken communion. In eternity, enemies are reconciled, wounds are forgiven, and people who literally lived a world apart find the amazing satisfaction of fellowship with one another. On Wednesday I saw a piece of heaven when I saw three Mozambican believers cleaning old sewing machines with a student from Liberty University. I saw heaven when I saw two Mozambican women laughing with a couple of women from Texas. I saw heaven in a couple of country singing Texans playing guitar with the worship leader of a church in Mozambique. Perhaps every tribe, tongue, and nation will be present in eternal splendor not just to praise God, but because of the joy it will bring His people to have eternal communion. Communion that on earth looks like cleaning an old sewing machine.

Heaven will also be a place of incredible fellowship, joy, rejoicing, laughter, feasting, dancing, unhindered worship, and healing. Racism, tyranny, prejudice, bias, and every form of oppression will have no place among God's children for one simple reason: "the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations."