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Break A Leg: Practicing God’s Presence in Pain
On my very first birthday, I fell off the front porch of our home and broke my leg. Because I lived in a remote village in Papua New Guinea with my missionary parents, I was flown to the closest town with a western doctor. Upon admittance to the hospital, my leg was put in traction and my mother told to go home. The nurses loved me. Who wouldn’t adore a one-year-old baby cooing and doing acrobatics on the traction ropes? My dear mother, having five other children to care for, could only come to visit me after three weeks. Medical practice in the early 1960s also did not allow parents…
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If It’s You, Jesus, Tell Me To Come To You
On our first vacation while living in Indonesia, we went for a short boat ride to view the beautiful coastline. My son was eighteen months old and I was pregnant. As we rounded a peninsula, the small craft began to rock harder and the once gentle waves grew larger and larger until water crashed on top of us. Soon we shivered in our soaked clothing despite the clear blue skies. The pleasant site-seeing jaunt had become a harrowing countdown until we reached shore. My poor husband, certain he had exposed his young family to mortal danger, was filled with relief (as was I) when we finally disembarked. Jesus’s disciples were…
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An Ordinary Woman’s Response to Global Crisis
Horror. Sadness. Anxiety. Anger. Guilt. With these emotions, I watched religious fanatics take over the ravaged land of Afghanistan leaving women, girls, Christians, and the marginalized desperately scrambling for their lives. This crisis is just the most recent example of pain, injustice, and all that is wrong in our world. The latest that eclipses many others: an earthquake in the already devastated nation of Haiti; Chinese Christians in re-education camps; Indonesian citizens dying outside hospitals for lack of beds, oxygen, and vaccines; flames destroying entire towns in California; Lebanon in economic, social, and political downfall. And all this exacerbated by a continuing global pandemic. What does an ordinary western woman…
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God is Not Slow, He is Patient
Why do you take so long to act? Why are you so slow? I whined to the Lord as I settled into my folding chair at the local lake. Armed with my bag of books, journal, and Bible, I wasn’t leaving until I received an answer from the Lord. Not expecting an audible reply, I began my regimen of study and meditation. Some time later, two small girls and their grandmother caught my attention. I paused my journaling and watched them return to their car after swimming in the lake. The older girl quickly put on her shorts over her swimsuit and got in the car, but her little sister…
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Feeling Weary? Ready to Quit? Let Love Prompt Your Labor
I was weary. Tired of serving the same folk, sick of repeating identical tasks year after year. Discouraged by lack of results, and convinced my striving made no difference, I wondered if it was time to step aside. I turned to my Bible for some help and found the Apostle Paul’s encouragement to the believers in Thessalonica: We recall in the presence of our God and Father your work of faith and labor of love and endurance of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ. 1 Thessalonians 1:3 I began my study of this verse by comparing different versions, making observations, and writing lists. What did Paul remember about the Thessalonians?…
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Facing Disappointment With Facts and Faith
Life is hard. Disease destroys precious loved ones. Injustice extinguishes innocent life. Dreams are crushed and die. Prayers remain unanswered. How do I accept the reality of pain and disappointment without losing hope? How do I trust that God might never answer prayer the way I want and still keep asking for a miracle? I’ve told myself all the usual answers: God is good and he loves me. He is sympathetic to my cry. He knows what he’s doing. Sometimes he answers, “wait.” Working behind the scenes, he will redeem the pain. I still believe these truths, but I need something more. Do I give up hope of ever seeing what I wish…
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Don’t Beat Yourself Up
Yesterday was proof “adulting” never ends. Absentmindedly, I backed out of my driveway and hit the gas meter. My attention jerked back to the present as I heard the crunch of my fender, followed by a loud hiss of gas spewing into the neighborhood. Opening the car door, I choked on the fumes in the air. What a dope. Now the neighborhood’s going to explode! I rushed into the house, my heart pounding. Who do I call? Where’s the number for the gas company? Help me, Jesus! I texted my husband. Roamed the house. Left a voice message. No response. He was in a meeting so could offer no assistance.…
