This is the story of my husband's day yesterday and this is the story of mine: His: Benjamin drove a team of fifteen college-aged students out to a cistern work site in a village about an hour away, stopping to pick up more supplies on the way. He worked in cooperation with the local foreman in… Continue reading Something Beautiful: The Stories of One Day.
It was not the first time I had admired a certain vase made of burl wood sitting on table against a wall in my counselor-friend's living room. Rounded yet uneven, it was sanded smooth to show the complexity of the grains and stood about 30 inches tall. No human hand had carved it out from… Continue reading Intended for Wholeness.
My husband came to bed quite late the other night. I was still reading, when I should have slept. But I could hardly help myself. The book, which I am still carefully reading with a pencil in hand, is a wondrous true tale. It is a humble, elegantly written and engrossing work by a woman… Continue reading So Many Roads.
"Mama, she is sitting alone on the floor in the corner of my room with her plate, eating her lunch there!" cried my then 7-year old son. This was the second time we saw Tere, our once-a-week "maid" take her afternoon lunch break this way. Not only that, but she shuffled when she walked and… Continue reading Power Distance and Gospel Power.
In a culture where the name of Jesus is not unknown to anyone, the meaning of His death and life is strangely obscure. Which is why, in some ways, it is said that it is harder to bring others to the Gospel here than in a Muslim country. Why? Here, they are so close, yet so far away. So very far away. Here, Jesus stays on the cross. His suffering is still happening and the more one can share in that suffering the greater one can earn favor in heaven and heaven itself. Which is why, when working in many of the villages where the more "simple" dwell, there is little grumbling or complaining. They are conditioned to be content with their lot in life not out of gratitude, but more so out of the belief that if they suffer well and suffer much, divine favor will rest upon them.
Becoming a missionary in foreign soil has a way of making your roots looser—the tentacles to this world don’t attach so tenaciously. How can they when you find yourself in a place that is utterly unlike all of your cultural programing? Your anchor is no longer hooked between the rocks of familiarity, but in Who is there when all those rocks roll away -- Jesus.