The Best Sounds of Christmas

I love Christmas, its tastes, sounds, sights, and touch.  I love the wonder and beauty that accompanies it.  But this year I kept coming back to the sounds that I loved this particular year.

Mail call. Almost every day, cards have arrived from people who remember us. Going through the notes from people, seeing their photos, and putting out the cards made Christmas special.

Children’s laughter.  My brother Joel, a missionary in Japan, is home on furlough this year with his two young children.  For the first time in a long time, the squeals and giggles of children were part of this year's celebration.  


Waves on the beach.  My brother Steven rented a house in Gulf Shores, Alabama, where our family spent Christmas week together.  I was often on the beach, especially at sunset, listening to the rhythm of the waves, the call of the seagulls, and the whisper of the wind. 


Christmas carols.  I have a fairly musical family.  One of the things we most enjoy when we gather is singing.  From "Silent Night" to "Joy to the World" rang out when we gathered together.  On Christmas Eve, with all my brothers and sisters and their spouses present, and some nieces and nephew too, we almost sounded like a choir.  Then, through the modern convenience of Skype, we were able to sing to (with?) my nephew in Cameroon on Christmas afternoon.  

Silence.  Perhaps the best sound was no sound at all, when I sat in wonder at the feet of Jesus, amazed once again by His supreme sacrifice in becoming one of His creatures - a helpless baby dependent upon a young mother to survive.  If that were all, it would be truly amazing.  But the rest of the story of His life, all the way to the cross, leaves me speechless.  Thank you, God!

Blessed by Children

Headlights caught the sparkle of snow in the midst of the rain as we made our way through the darkness.  Homes decorated in lights flashed by we drove into the Tennesee hills.

When we pulled into the parking lot, a few cars were already there.  We sat in the car for a while, watching others arrive.  Since there were already quite a few people in the building, we pulled our jackets more tightly around us and stepped into the blustery weather and then into the warmly lit building.

Often, when we arrive at a church where we haven't been before, Charlie and I look for the Missions Board.  This was no exception.  The hallway across from the restrooms was lined with prayer letters and cards from missionaries.  In this church, so far away from our Maine home, we didn't recognize any of the missionaries there.

In the auditorium, a family was practicing a song.  People milled about and talked.  We found a seat.  Soon the room filled.  White-haired men and women were in the minority here.  In fact, there were more children in this room than I had seen on a Wednesday night in a long time.  Most of them sat with their families, though I could see a few sitting with friends.

Hymns were sung.  Prayer requests were taken.  A teenage girl played the piano while the offering was taken.  Another hymn.  Special music by a family with three children.  I half expected the children to be released to their own activities halfway through the service.  But they stayed.

As the pastor began his sermon, two pre-teen girls sitting next to me got out pens and paper.  They listened attentively and began taking notes.  "It's okay to ask God WHY" she wrote.  A couple rows in front of me, teenagers with thoughtful interest on their faces were also taking notes.  Younger children sat quietly with parents.  A couple nodded off to sleep.

There was a reverent hush in the room.  I could almost see Jesus smiling as His children learned at the feet of this pastor.  Come to God with your questions.  Yes, they were learning to listen to what the pastor taught, but they were also learning far more.  They were learning that their presence was desired and that they were a valuable part of the family.

As we left that night, I looked up at the starless night sky and breathed a smiling "Thank You" to God.  My heart was blessed.  I didn't know those children.  They didn't know me.  But they were God's instrument to bless me as I sat with them and learned together with them more about God. 

Is It Christmastime?

It didn't feel like Christmas to me this year.  The sense of wonder was missing.  Was it because this is our first Christmas away from Maine in 14 years and I'm missing the people and the snow?  Was it because I am no longer a pastor's wife and therefore not very involved in the church's Christmas activities?  Is it because we don't have a house and so, even though my parents' home is beautifully decorated, none of "our" Christmas decorations are out?  I sat and wondered about it yesterday.  Why did I feel so ho-hum this year?

As I worked at the dining room table yesterday, I glanced over at my parents' beautiful nativity scene.  That scene startled unconscious thoughts to the forefront of my mind, and I suddenly realized the problem.  I was missing the advent wreath and my personal Christmas devotions.  For many years now, I have used the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas to focus my morning quiet times in the many passages that relate to Jesus' birth and to enjoy the amazing grace and love of God that sent His Son to earth.

Several years ago, my husband bought me a beautiful advent wreath for my birthday.  Today it is safely nestled in a plastic bin in a storage locker in Maine.  Since I knew it would be absent from this year's celebration, I decided to continue reading through my regular passages in the Old Testament.  But now, twelve days before Christmas, that needed to change.  I need the morning quiet time focus on the amazing miracle of God's becoming man.  I need a morning worship time that keeps me from being overwhelmed and discouraged by the embellishments that have shoved the center story off stage.  I need to celebrate the "I Am" in this most joyous season of the year.

So last night I headed to the store.  I needed to do this as inexpensively as possible.  I chose the most inexpensive remedy I could find and brought it home:  five candles. 

Today I lit three candles, read a Christmas Bible passage, and basked in the wonder of God becoming flesh.  Ah!  The wonder began to return. 

Advent wreaths and candles aren't necessary.  I didn't even know about them until I was an adult.  They can become part of the embellishments that detract from our worship.  So even though I know that this little remedy is far from necessary, it helped me this morning to shine a spotlight on Christmas' main event. 

Most likely, our future holds Christmases without the possibility of lighting candles while I read my Bible.  When that time comes, I am now equipped to deal with it.  I don't need the candles.  I don't need the decorations.  I don't need snow or Christmas trees.  I don't need gifts or concerts.  I don't even need Christmas Eve services (as dear as those are to me).  What I do need is this:  spending time alone each day during the season worshiping the Great "I Am" and reminding myself again and again through the reading of Scripture the daring, caring rescue story of the human race.  For me, that's what makes Christmas.

Flowers for Mom

The Dutch have a tradition: buy flowers for your mother on your birthday.  After all, she is the one who did all the work the day I was born.  She is the one who deserves my honor, especially today. 

Since we are not Dutch, I have never done this before, but this year it seemed like a good idea.  We are currently living with my parents, so it was easy to get them to her and a treat to be able to enjoy them with her.

I like flowers as a symbols of my love and affection for my mother.  Their beauty tells me that she is the most beautiful of women to me. 

Like a rose, my mom has a sweet fragrance about her - the fragrance of Christ.  To those that know and love Christ, it is a sweet smell and a reminder of even better things to come. 

These beautiful roses will only last a few days, and then they will be gone.  My parents are in their eighties now.  Life is short, so I will enjoy them while I can.

Their petals are soft, fragile, and easily bruised.  My mom, the woman who was a tower of strength to me throughout my growing years, is also soft, fragile, and easily bruised. 

Beauty.  Flowers.  Mom.  They go together.  And today, I celebrate my mom.

For we are unto God a sweet savour of Christ, in them that are saved, and in them that perish.  II Cor. 2:15

The Soldier's Half-Marathon

On Saturday morning at 5:00 a.m., the alarm sounded, reminding me why I don’t really like early morning runs.  We got up, ate an apple, yogurt, and cheese, and drank some juice.  My groggy stomach insisted that it was not ready for food at that hour, so I ate only a little.  After breakfast, I settled down with my Bible for a while to read and pray.  Then I dressed in a pair of wind pants and a sleeveless running shirt under a turtleneck.   Just before 6:00, Charlie ducked out of our hotel room to start the car and scrape the ice off the windshield. When I joined him a few minutes later, we headed toward Fort Benning.

At the Infantry Museum, the dark, cloudless sky slowly began brightening, assuring the frozen runners that the sun’s warm rays were just below the horizon.  Under the lights of the street lamps and a full white moon that floated slowly toward earth, couples hugged each other, receiving warmth from one another’s bodies.  People bounced up and down and stretched out eager limbs as they waited for the crowd to gather.  Soldiers in uniform lined the walkway where the race would begin.

Then the wait was over.  The cannon’s burst caught me by surprise, and we were off.  Well, sort of.  The people at the front of the line, elite runners and those qualifying for the Boston Marathon, were off.  The rest of us began shuffling toward the starting line as row upon row of runners cleared the starting line and headed down the street.

At the first hill, I heard them before I saw them.  One drill sergeant shouted words of encouragement from the left sidewalk.  “Good work, ma’am.  Keep going.  You’re going to make it.”  On the other side, another drill sergeant used negative reinforcement.  “Why are you walking up this hill?  This hill is nothing!  You call that a five-hour marathon pace?  At that rate, you won’t make it.  You might as well give up now.”  I smiled, trying to discern which one was motivating me to pick up my pace.  Perhaps it was just the humor of it all.

At every bend in the course, soldiers in uniform stood to keep the runners on the path.  At the top of another hill, they shouted, “It’s all downhill from here.”  Well, it was, for a while. 

Mile after mile crept by.  I noticed a young woman in green.  She passed me.  Then I passed her.  She passed me.  I realized that she would be a good pace keeper for me.  I kept my eye on her, not letting her get too far ahead of me.  Then I noticed a black glove fall from her side.  She didn’t notice.  I stopped to pick it up and ran after her, but her pace was fast enough that I didn’t think I would ever catch her again.  When she slowed to a fast walk, I caught up and handed her the glove.  We exchanged names and found out about each other’s fallen heroes for whom we were running.  Then she was off again, and I was once again following.

At mile 12, two full-marathon runners sped by me, headed for their mile 25.  I wasn’t even to the half-marathon mark, and here they were about to finish their full marathon!

When I finally crossed the line, I melted into Charlie’s arms.  It was so good to be done.  I felt like I had accomplished something, even though I knew it was just a race that won’t matter much one hundred years from now.  So I looked for the woman in green.

“Thank you for being an encouragement to me today,” I said when I found her.  I went on, “Since you were ahead of me most of the way, I was praying for you.  Is there anything special you would like prayer for?”  She mentioned a couple generic things.  We hugged and parted. 

It was a good day.  It taught me things I hope I don’t forget:

• There is joy in the journey.  
• It’s easy to get lost if you don’t follow instructions.  
• I am not a marathon runner.   
• Running is a blessing many people don’t have, so I’m grateful for legs and health and time that has allowed me to do this in this season of my life.  
• Running has benefits, the most important for me is that it bonds me to my running-loving husband. 
• I can bless others with my prayers when I run.  
• But most important of all, God runs with me.  His voice and companionship during a run are the best part of it all.

Homecoming

The airplane starts its descent and for the first time I see "dirt in the water". The first sight of land in over two hours. As we descend, the distant landscape draws closer and I see the trees, hills, and farmland of the Dominican Republic. They are different from the trees, hills, and farmland of Maine where I have lived for over 13 years. They are different from the trees, hills, and farmland of any other place I have called home. They are exotic; palms, tropical jungle, sugar cane, and then the south coast comes into view, the water different from any in the northern seas. Yet with all this difference, my heart says I am home! It is not because now that we do not own a fixed residence "Home is where my wife is". I did not feel at home in NY or Miami, even though we were together. No, coming to the Dominican Republic felt like a homecoming because I knew what we would find there; a reunion with the brothers and sisters of the Dominican church. I knew we would be welcomed with open arms and open hearts. I knew we would start off just like we had been gone only a short time instead of 21 months. All the things you would expect if you were coming home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. Now I realize that "Home is where the Lord leads us!"

Waiting to Return

“I wait for the LORD, my soul doth wait, and in his word do I hope.  My soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch for the morning: I say, more than they that watch for the morning.”  Psalm 130:5-6

Spanish swirls around me as I wait for the Miami-bound plane.  I could easily be in a Latin American country, but I’m not there yet.  Instead I’m in the nether land of airport-secure zones while we wait for our delayed plane.  CNN broadcasts its headlines into the room, but the only contact with the real world outside is through the tinted glass looking out on the skyline of New York City.

We all wait.  Some sleep.  Some read.  Some talk.  Some text.  Some work on their computers.  One man listens to music, his fingers keeping time against his temples.  A couple of twenty-something parents try to keep their twin toddlers happy.  Fortunately the little boy just dozed off a few minutes ago, but the girl, pink sneakers kicking the air, desperately wants to be released from her stroller cage.  An orange lollipop pacifies her.
We all wait.  For most the waiting is passive.  We have one assignment.  Get on the plane when it arrives.  There is nothing we can do to make the plane get here sooner.  There is nothing we can do to make our trip more pleasant.  All the preparation work was done before we got here, and we sit here waiting.

It is so unlike the waiting we are called to do when we wait upon the Lord.  That is an active, expectant waiting.  Like the psalmist’s watchman, I have worked the night shift when the first rays of dawn across the sky were happy reminders that my waiting for home and bed were almost over.  I was actively doing my job while I waited, but the streaks of morning light were much more exciting to me than the arrival of a delayed plane.

When it comes to waiting for the Lord and for His return, there is no comparison.  Every day I know His return draws nearer.  Even though I don’t know when it will be, I am sure that every day brings me one day closer to seeing Him, and I happily wait, almost as though on tiptoe.

Madawaska and Back

We left Searsport on a cloudy morning and began the long drive up to Madawaska, ME, the northernmost point in the state.  This was the furthest north I had been in Maine, and I was surprised to pass through the Maine woods and arrive in rolling hills of farmlands, stretching as far as the eye could see. ( I tried to take a picture of that, but my camera didn't do it justice. For those of you who haven't travelled to northern Maine but have been through upstate New York or through the farmlands of Pennsylvania, it is similar.) 

Did you know that the distance from Madawaska to Kittery, the southernmost point in Maine, is about the same as the distance from Kittery to Delaware? Unlike most other New England states, Maine is large, but relatively uninhabited. Only a little more than a million people live in this state.  

Our very comfortable bed while we were there.

The view of Madawaska from our bedroom.

We had a wonderful time with the people of Madawaska Gospel Church. The family who hosted us gave us a comfortable room with such a comfortable bed that I awoke for the first time in a long time without my usual aches and pains.  The people of the church welcomed us warmly and let us feel like family.

On Monday morning before we left, our host took us to see a few sights.  This park is dedicated to the bikers who have travelled to the four corners of the USA.  While it was interesting to see where people had come from,It also had an impressive view of the St. John River Valley and the Canadian city of Edmonston.  The brick walkway listed the names and accomplishments of those who wished to be remembered here.

It's not easy to see as my camera is not great, but there was a beautiful rainbow in the fountain.

It's not every day you get to drive through the solar system.

On the way home, we passed through a replica of our solar system.  The sun is on the campus of the University of Maine at Presque Isle.  Each of the planets is in the right place from the sun on a scale of 1:93,000,000 along Route 1.  Many of them were too small to make a good picture.  We zipped by earth without noticing it and had to turn around to see it.  Saturn and Jupiter, however, could be seen from a long distance away.  Pluto, though no longer considered a planet, was on display on the wall of the Houlton Visitor's Center. 

How much I love that God gave us eyes to see His beauty. 

This coming Sunday we're speaking close to home.  We like those trips too, not because of the scenery which we have seen many times before, but because of all the wonderful people we get to meet.

Stepping Back in Time

The sun was setting, throwing a pale orange glow across the blue-gray sky as we drove into the gravel parking lot.  The sign next to the white clad board country church announced that the service began at 7:00.  We were almost a half hour early, so we pulled in next to the two parked cars and sat in the car and chatted about our day.  After about ten minutes, a pickup truck arrived, driven by a bearded man in a sport coat and tie.  I had not met him before, but Charlie recognized him immediately as the pastor of the church.

Pastor jumped out of his truck and opened my door for me, introducing himself and welcoming me to his church.  His wife came around the vehicle.  Holding out her hand, she said, “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met.” 

After introductions, we crossed the parking lot, and walked up the wooden handicap ramp to the front door.  Crossing the threshold, we entered the century-old auditorium.  Two young women were at the piano practicing a duet.  No one else had arrived yet, but soon a middle aged woman arrived with four attractive teenage girls behind her.  They chose seats in the back row of the 50-seat room.  Two of them plopped down and re-entered the world of their Christian novels while their sisters chatted.

Soon a woman, her shining gray hair streaming past her shoulders, walked in with a roll of fabric tucked under one arm.  When the singers finished practicing, they descended the platform to talk with her.  She unrolled the material.  Inside was a quilted lime green table runner with appliquéd purple butterflies.  I joined the trio to admire the piece and listened to their comments.

“I’m going to teach this young woman to quilt,” she told me, “so I’ve been bringing this table runner in to show her the various stages so she will know what it’s like.”  I smiled and added a comment about the simple beauty of the piece.

Just then a family of four arrived.  Charlie had met them, so he introduced me.  I stood beside them, admiring their baby daughter as they talked. 

“Here comes Father Abraham,” someone said laughing as a balding man with reddish hair walked in carrying a baby carrier.  Behind him, his wife and four other children followed.   “Father Abraham” put the carrier on one of the seats and turned to talk to the pastor.  I peeked into the carrier to see a little boy beginning to fuss.  His mom was engaged in conversation.  So was his dad.  They had not heard him yet.  Quickly determining that it would not scare his mother, I bent over the carrier, unsnapped the harness and lifted him to my chest.  Soon he was snuggling against me. 

The baby’s mom turned and saw me. 

“You don’t have to hold him,” she said.  “I can take him.”

“No, please don’t” I responded.  “I don’t get to hold babies often enough.”

Before long the pastor ascended the platform, and everyone took their seats – infants to elderly all in the same room doing the same thing.  We sang.  We prayed.  We sang some more.  When the singing ended, I handed my precious bundle back to his mom.  The pastor announced the young adult activity for the weekend:  chopping and stacking wood for one of the elderly men in the congregation.  We bowed our heads to pray, and the pastor dropped to one knee by a chair on the platform and prayed aloud for the needs of the people.  Then he preached a sermon on the need for repentance in the presentation of the gospel.

When the service was over, we stood around and talked.  Charlie's friend took a pistol out of its holster to show to Charlie, and then reached into his wife’s handbag and pulled out a revolver.  I looked over Charlie’s shoulder, listening to the men talk about the merits of each one.  The pastor's wife joined us. 

“Do you have a concealed carry permit?” she asked me. 

“No,” I replied, briefly explaining.

When our conversation died down, we walked out from the brightly-lit auditorium into the darkness.  Laughing voices followed us, and I turned and looked back.  For just a brief moment, I thought I would see women in Victorian dresses getting into horse-drawn carriages because for that brief hour, I had been part of a community church where people were ready to support each other and leave their worries and masks behind, just as I imagined they had done a hundred years ago.

As we drove home, I wondered if we would ever encounter another church like it – a church where there is no nursery so families worship together, teens do ministry for their fun activity of the week, a mother willingly lets a stranger hold her eight-week old baby, and people share their everyday lives in the sanctuary. 

Did anyone say, “Little House in the Big Wood?”  I think I was there.

Praise the Lord with Music and . . . ?

“Let everything that hath breath, praise the Lord.”  Ps. 150:6

One, two; one, two.  Left, right; left right.  The cadence of my feet echoes off the pavement as I run, and it provides a backdrop for my thoughts.  Soon those thoughts settle into well-known lyrics that match my running feet.  In the beginning, a sweet, simple song like “God is so good” gives me an easy pace to get started.  Then I drift into “Oh, When the Saints Go Marching In” or “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.”  As I start up a hill, “One Step at a Time” keeps me going when I’d rather stop and walk.  I rely on these songs to take my mind off the discomfort I’m feeling and keep me going. 

New flowers have come and gone all summer long.

Occasionally, there are days when I don’t need the discipline of a tune running through my head to keep me going.  On those days, I let my mind drift.  I pass a field of wild flowers.  Their scent and beauty takes me back to my wedding day when my nieces arranged all my bouquets of flowers.  I find myself praying for God's good gifts for them as I continue on.  I cross a bridge where a thirty-something father in denim overalls supervises his small son’s baiting the hook.  “Have you caught anything?” I ask as I pass.  “A few,” he calls back.  As I round the bend, I catch a glimpse of my husband, running ahead of me.  He loves to fish, but this summer he has gone without it because of limited finances.  My heart sends up a thank-you to my Heavenly Father for blessing me with a great man of God. 

I pass children playing and a woman cutting the grass on her riding lawn mower.  A teenager darts in front of me to cross the street to his mailbox.  A small, yappy dog defends her house as I run by.  I cross a bridge where still waters reflect the maple trees, and I remember that the Lord leads me beside still waters when I need it, and I praise Him for being a gentle Shepherd.  I pass the marshy edge of a lake where birds chirrup and the cattails quiver in the gentle breeze.  A gold finch, startled by my proximity, hops up and takes wing to a safe haven farther away.

As the sun begins its descent, the clouds catch its golden and red rays.  “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight” darts through my mind and then to Jesus’ words, “Ye can discern the face of the sky; but can ye not discern the signs of the times?”  (Matt. 16:3).  I wonder, then, about the times we are in.  “Soon, and very soon, we are going to see the King” cycles through my mind and matches the rhythm  of my feet.  I mentally sing that while my breathing gets heavier as I crest another rise.  As I turn the corner toward home, I echo Paul’s prayer, “Even so, come, Lord Jesus.”

The sky is dark enough now that the moon begins to show off its glory.  I think of the words I memorized as a child, “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament sheweth his handiwork.”  With red and gold threads woven on the billowing clouds, and the moon preparing the sky for nighttime beauty, I marvel at God’s handiwork.  The sky and everything around me was created by God.  Not only was it created, but it was created so very well.

If King David had been with me today, would he have said, “Praise the Lord with music and running”?  I don’t know, but I do know that he said, “Let everything that has breath, praise the Lord.”  When I run, I am more aware than ever that I have breath, so I do.  Thank you, Lord, for the gift of running and the music that keeps me going.

The Agent of True Change

”All we have to do to create an unreached people group is abandon a reached one before we have discipled godly leaders to study and apply the Scripture for themselves.” - Phil Hunt - Missionary to Zambia

“Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.”  II Timothy 2:15

In order for us to accomplish anything of lasting value in our ministry we need to have a goal that is lined up with God's will for the planting and growth of churches around the World. We must also use a method that is lined up with God's will. Unless our goal and methodology are approved by God, our work will be in vain.

While our objective may be to train men to plant and pastor churches, and help them train leaders and teachers to support those churches, we must not succumb to the notion that we need only teach the mechanics of church planting or pastoring. We must teach the church leaders, and future leaders, how to study the Scriptures and draw from them principles that they can apply to resolve the day to day issues they face in their country, in their culture, in their specific church situation. We must leave the Holy Spirit free to do His work and help the church leaders depend on Him for their needs.

We recognize that in the process of working with the Nationals some of our beliefs and practices will “rub off”. It is our desire, however, that the changes wrought in the National churches will be made through contact with the Word of God, not through contact with us. Moreover, we desire that the Nationals will be empowered to use the principles they learn from us to delve into the Word and extract principles that can be applied to needs long after we are gone.

As we prepare for our trip to the Dominican Republic, please pray for wisdom as we prepare the classes. Pray they are firmly rooted in the Word of God. Pray that the process of teaching on "Marriage and the Family" will also teach each student how to understand, interpret and apply the Bible to the daily needs in their lives.

Blessing Upon Blessing

"Oh that men would praise the LORD for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men!"  Psalm 107:8
If I were to stop and give thanks to God for every one of His good gifts, I would never get anything else done.  My heart is full.  From the blessing of beautiful summer days with its profusion of green and wild flowers, offset by the blue sky with white wispy clouds floating by to the blessings of people that we have met along the way, I just keep praising the Lord for His goodness to us.

Yesterday we were in Corinth, Maine.  About twelve years ago we made our first connection with this church.  They were looking for a pastor.  We were looking for a church.  As we spent the day with God's dear people there, our hearts were united with theirs.  We thought that God was bringing our paths together.  Instead, God led us to West Hampden, and Corinth Baptist Church continued their search for God's man.  About a year later they called Kirk Mellen, and it was immediately apparent to us that Kirk and not Charlie was God's man for that job. We became friends with the Mellens and continued to enjoy good relationships with the people of Corinth.

When we walked in the door of the church, one of the men welcomed us "home".  It was good to be there again and to see the work that God is doing.  We spent the afternoon with the same couple who kept us overnight on that first trip through the snow many years ago.  Instead of revelling in their heated floor and wood stove as the snow piled up outside, we walked through the woods and enjoyed God's outdoor miracles.  (To me, it is a miracle that such beautiful green comes back every year.)  The chickens entertained us with their antics, and we enjoyed the summer afternoon reminiscing and catching up on each others' lives.

I know there will be some churches where we do not get to return again and again, but I am very much looking forward to those churches who end up supporting us so that we get to do what we did yesterday - go back and give thanks for God's grace through the years.

Macedonian Moment

“I being in the way, the LORD led me ...” (Ge 24:27b AV)

Sunday we had a Macedonian moment. We had a meeting with one church that had moved their evening service to early afternoon. Trying to use the opportunity to visit another church that evening we drove toward a church we know of. We stopped in a town along the way to check on service times and discovered they had already had their afternoon service! Afternoon services are growing in popularity as the price of gas rises. The two churches in the town we were in did not have an evening service. We wracked our brains for an opportunity to visit a church we could introduce to our ministry. We remembered a certain church pastored by an acquaintance and drove there. When we went in for the evening service we discovered the pastor we thought was there had left and a friend I had lost track of nearly a year ago was the pastor. We had a great evening and the current pastor quickly understood that IPM would be a good fit for his church. We are scheduled for an October meeting!

Like Paul we had our plan “A” and even a plan “B” and “C”. I actually had a plan “D” if the church we attended did not work out. The Lord closed those doors, but He directed our path toward His plan. That was the true plan “A” all along!

Running the Race with Patience

“Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us,” (Hebrews 12:1 AV) 

 On the Fourth of July Joan and I celebrated in a different way from most Americans. We ran in a 10K race. We both finished, although far from the front. I am reminded of what Paul (at least in my opinion Paul) wrote to the Hebrews so long ago. 

 There was a “cloud” of witnesses. People were on their front lawns and at the intersections cheering us on. People were manning the water tables. The last mile was down Main Street Freeport, Maine and there were people on both sides cheering the runners on. There were the other runners, we were never running alone. The runners laid aside the weight of extra clothing, some even shedding items along the way. The shoes we wore were not hiking boots, but purpose built for running. Many of us had intentionally lost body weight as part of our race preparations. 

 Most reminiscent however is patience, or as the word is sometimes defined: endurance. The race started with over one mile of steady down hill course. It was easy, we were fresh, cool, adrenaline stoked. Then there was the small stream that crossed under the road, the tidal creek on the other side; and the first hill. It was short, not too steep, but it was a taste of things to come. After a few more miles of gentle ups and downs there were two short steep hills, nothing big, nothing long. Then after the fourth mile the course went up, for about one mile, with no relief, and then the longest steepest hill in the whole course. The road was heating up, the air was heating up, and the humidity had been high the whole race. This is where endurance was needed. We needed to endure the hill, endure the scream of muscles wanting to rest, endure the last mile. 

 It's not so different from our current situation. Right now we are in the easy first stage of this ministry. We are excited, financially solvent, and mostly contacting churches that we know and that know us. But the road ahead will have challenges and we know that. I had two advantages in the 10K; I had walked the course two days before and I knew exactly where the finish line was. In this ministry we don't get a look at the course before hand, if we did we might not run the race! We also do not know where the finish line is, only God knows. Yet, we are to run the race. This implies pressing forward. Trying to charge up the hills, lengthening stride down the hills. Never burning out, but always pressing forward until we hear those blessed words: “Well done, thou good and faithful servant...”

The Providence of God

Last Sunday night Joan and I went to visit a church we have fellowshipped with for many years, and we went to hear an Evangelist I have known even longer. His topic was The Providence of God. He observed that the word "providence" literally means to foresee, not to supply. I respect the man, but I had to look for myself. In the English and the Latin he was right, but did it fly in Greek or Hebrew?  Was it the root of the concept of "Providence" God is trying to communicate to you and I through the Scripture?

In the Old Testament there are a few words that are translated "providence", but every one has a root meaning of "see". One point for the Evangelist. In the New Testament there are a few words as well, they start with the prefix "pro-", a good start. One follows "pro-" with a word meaning "see", the other follows "pro-" with a word meaning "think" or "know". So, put it all together and the concept flies. The concept of God's Providence is not one of God supplying all my needs, it is God seeing, knowing, my need ahead of time and then preparing a blessing that will meet my need.

Providence is not simply the all-sovereign God selling off a few of His cattle on the thousand hills to meet my urgent financial need. It is the omniscience of God knowing I will have the need and breeding a few head of cattle to be there when the need arises!

The next time you receive a providential answer to a need, prayed for or not, consider when the answer to that need was put in motion. I think you will often find God was preparing an answer to your need before you even knew the need would exist!

I have spent some time reviewing God's answers to our needs as we started our new ministry with IPM, and I have come to the conclusion God has been preparing solutions to needs I never knew would exist! God is still preparing answers to the needs I haven't yet seen.

Philippians 4:19 - "But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus." And He knows that need even before you do! What a great God we serve!

The Mystery Box

Charlie has the ability to think on his feet.  He has so much information in his brain that he can expound on almost any topic.  I’ve heard him discussing the differences in airplanes with pilots and various types of vessels with skippers.  He can hold his own in a political, economic, or religious discussion.  He can participate in topics ranging from wildlife to international affairs.  Unlike me, he doesn’t usually need the professionals to speak in lay terminology.

One day I told him about a “Mystery Bag” I had seen a former pastor use.  Each week a family took the Bag home, inserted a household object, and brought it to church and put it on the platform.  The pastor then opened the Bag and brought out the object.  Without knowing ahead of time what the object was, he used the item to teach a spiritual lesson.  Charlie decided he would try it, and a Sunday evening tradition was born.

At first, it was a big game to see who could stump the pastor.  Sometimes he had to ask for additional information about the object.  Occasionally he stalled, making comments about the object he held in his hands while his mind furiously sought for a spiritual lesson he could teach with it.  Through the years, we’ve seen many stuffed animals, toys, kitchen gadgets, and office supplies. 

On our last Sunday at West Hampden, two mystery items appeared.  One was brought in by a child who didn’t realize that someone else had already brought something.  Because it was our last Sunday, Charlie decided to take them both.  The first was a child’s storybook, and he used the story line to teach a message.  The second one he opened had two travel mugs inside, with a picture of children in our church and inscribed with these words, “We will be praying for you.”  He choked up and didn’t even try to come up with an object lesson for that one.  Instead, he thanked the children for their willingness to pray for us.

It is a mystery to me why God answers prayer.  It is an even bigger mystery to me that the great, big, wonderful God who made the universe would make a way for me to know Him and have a relationship with Him.  How thankful I am that my God doesn’t fit in any of my boxes.  I accept that much about Him is a mystery, but He's way too big for any box, even a theoretical one.

Beholding Beauty

The beauty that God places in front of me each day is amazing.  There are some places where I've lived where I look back on and say, “There was nothing particularly pretty about that area, but I loved living there.”  There are others where there were particular things that drew my eye and encouraged me to give thanks to God for putting me there.  That is the case with Searsport.

Taking the opportunity of a day off on Memorial Day, we walked from our trailer to downtown and down to the sea.   We found the park, the dock, and of course, the beach.  I took off my sandals and walked along the cobblestone beach, splashing in the shallow water, letting the bay's water lap at my ankles.  Dogs and people played with each other in the shallows, and shrieks of laughter filled the air.

In our current location, there is obvious beauty all around. From the flowers and the parks to the quaint seaside villages and the ocean vistas, I often find myself giving thanks to God for the natural beauty that surrounds me.  Yesterday I sat at my windows while a storm moved in and marvelled at the billowing cumulus clouds racing wispy cirrus clouds across the sky.  Big raindrops and tiny bits of hail pelted the window, and periodic lightning snaked through the dark clouds.  Not a day goes by that I don't marvel at God's natural world around us.


After the skies cleared, I wandered outside to enjoy the fresh air, the sunshine, and the flowers.  Tiny orange flowers hid beneath the towering white lilac bushes.  Butterflies and bees floated on the cool breeze and fluttered from flower to flower.  I went back into the trailer and grabbed a pair of scissors, anxious to infuse some natural perfume into the trailer.

I found myself singing.  I joined the psalmist in saying, " O LORD our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! who hast set thy glory above the heavens."  How blessed I feel I am to know, worship, and love the Creator of our world.

This morning I saw three robins standing like sentries in the yard, peering over the blades of grass for a hint of movement that would become a tasty breakfast.  Earlier this week I awoke to the call of seagulls, a pleasant change from the cawing of the crows that awakened me in Hampden.  Everywhere I turn, God's beauty abounds.  And because of my forage into the yard yesterday with scissors, God's creative beauty and fragrance are inside the trailer too.

    

Eleven Years

For the past eleven years, this has been our church home.  Our memories extend back to that first Sunday in 2000 when Charlie filled the pulpit.  Snow covered the ground.  The black cross on the front of the building beckoned us up the long driveway.  We entered the building and found a group of friendly people.  We rejoiced in the beautiful music we heard that morning and left certain that they would want someone better qualified to be their pastor.  Instead, they called us and became our personal friends.  More than that.  They became family.

Eleven years is longer than I have ever held a single job and longer than I’ve ever lived in the same house.  Those who were teens when we arrived have graduated from college and are living on their own.  Between the time we came in January and March when Charlie started as pastor, a little girl named Polly was born.  Her bright eyes and pixie smile are a continual reminder of how long we've been here.  One night, about eleven years ago, we were awakened by a phone call that one of our members had been rushed to the hospital with respiratory heart failure.  When Charlie got off the phone, he realized he hadn’t asked which hospital; and we were new enough that we didn’t realize that there were only two hospitals in town.  That woman is still worshipping with us and has been such a blessing through these years.

During these eleven years, the church has stood by us.  We have moved multiple times since we arrived – into a temporary residence, then a three-bedroom white ranch, then a four-bedroom contemporary ranch to care for  Charlie’s father, and then our stuff into storage and ourselves into a series of temporary residences.  On every occasion, there were people from the church ready to help.  They stood by us and prayed for us when we tried to adopt children.  They were there for us when Charlie’s dad died and my parents moved in and then out of Maine.  They have encouraged us, helped us, and made our ministry here a joy.

With grateful hearts for the past eleven years and high expectations of what God will do for West Hampden Baptist Church in the future, we say farewell.  We rest in the certainty that “he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.”

We love you, West Hampden and look forward to hearing of the great things that God is doing in your lives.

Moving as a Way of Life

In 2005, we bought a house together with my father-in-law.  It was the nicest house I have ever owned.  From our bedroom we could see the Coast Guard make its way up the Penobscot River, cutting a way through the ice in the winter time.  Eagles flew overhead and sometimes sat in the trees on our property.  Five picture windows allowed natural light to fill our home. A full basement and plenty of closet space meant I never had to get rid of things just because of a lack of space.  Old hardwood floors and a newly renovated kitchen made it a place of my dreams.

A wintry picture of the house of my dreams.

In the summer of 2009, when God called us out of the pastorate into an itinerant teaching ministry, we put the house on the market.  It sold in February, 2010.  We sold much of our household belongings and moved the rest into storage.  Since that time, we have been in a series of temporary locations.  In the past six months we have moved three times.  Last week we moved again, this time into a singlewide trailer in a coastal town in Maine.

The day may come when I tire of the frequent moves, but right now I am very thankful for them.  They remind me of things that are too easy to forget in our everyday normal life. 

• I am a nomad through this life.   This world is not my permanent dwelling.  I was made for eternity.  I best live out my destiny when I keep this life temporary and invest in eternity.
• I live in a temporary shelter (my body) that I will shed one day like worn out clothes.  While I must care for it in order to use it to its best use, it is less important than the person inside it.
• Living in a series of temporary locations keeps me from investing too much time and energy on things that will not matter in one hundred years.  While I still love to surround myself with beauty and order, I draw more from the things that are free, like the flowers that grow alongside the road and the beautiful sunsets outside my window.  
• I have great examples to follow.  Abraham lived in tents and wandered throughout the promised land.  Jesus never owned a home.  Paul was an itinerant church planter and teacher. 

Perhaps the best part of this itinerant life is the way it forces me to focus on internal roots rather than external ones:  "As ye have therefore received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk ye in him: rooted and built up in him, and stablished in the faith, as ye have been taught, abounding therein with thanksgiving."  (Col. 2:6-7)

Thank you, Lord, for these opportunities to focus on You.

A new place to live

We have recently moved to the missions house of the Lighthouse Bible Church in Searsport, ME. Pastor Rusty Bonin has been a friend in the ministry and we have known and fellowshipped with the people of Lighthouse for over a decade. Searsport is only 20 miles or so from Hampden, but it is a very different community. On the banks of the Penobscot River, just like Hampden, but closer to the sea, Searsport is still an active seaport. While Searsport has a smaller population, it has a defined town center and Joan and I can walk to the store, post office, library etc. about one and a half miles away.

The weather has been windy and overcast and one night we had a dense fog with a decided salty tang I had not smelled in a long time. I was glad I was on dry ground and not the deck of a ship that night!

We have no cable, no internet at home and must go to the local library to get online, cell phone coverage is less reliable than Hampden, but still useable.

I am thankful to the good people of Lighthouse Bible for their generosity, and I am thankful that our Lord tells us "The silver is mine, and the gold is mine..." (Haggai 2:8) He has a plan for our ministry, and He knows how he will provide for our ministry. He knows the churches and people who will pray. He knows the churches and people who will give of their housing, food, and other resources. He knows our needs, and more important, His desires for us. I would ask you to pray for us, that we would not "despise the day of small things" as the Lord starts a work in us and through us that will equip men and women to exalt His name to the uttermost parts of the earth.

Travel to Arequipa, Peru, 101

We left Bangor, ME, on February 4 and returned on February 15.  Our trip was fairly uneventful, but the few things serve as lessons learned for the next time we travel there.
1.  If the forecast calls for a lot of rain, do not plan to wash your clothes. It rained every day that we were there.  Without dryers, clothes just do not dry.  Fortunately, we had taken enough that it was not a problem.
2.  Their summer is their rainy season.  While the 60 degree weather was a break from our severe winter cold, the weather would have been more pleasant at another time.  On the morning of this photo, the clearest morning we had, the clouds moved in shortly after lunch.  By afternoon, it was raining.  In the distance, you can see the snow-capped volcano, Chachani.

3.  Peruvian Spanish is easy for a foreigner to understand.  I have been in countries where they slur their words together.  In others, they speak very rapidly.  In still others, they have so much slang that it is hard to follow.  But Peruvian Spanish is clear and relatively free of slang.  While they speak rapidly to each other, when they turn to speak to a foreigner, they usually slow down and speak more precisely.
4. Not all rumbling sounds are earthquakes.  I awoke with a start on Friday night as a flash of light and low crackle reverberated through the room.  In an instant, I was out of bed and halfway to the door, thinking that an earthquake was happening.  As I ran across the room, I realized the house was not shaking, so I stopped.  A few minutes later, the same sound happened, only this time we did not see the flash of light.  This one seemed to awaken the rest of the household.  In the morning we asked our hosts what it was.  Firecrackers.  If people see bands of wandering kids at night who appear to be up to no good, they light off firecrackers as a way of letting them know they have been spotted.  That also awakens the neighbors and they can check as well.
5.  Arequipa has some of the cleanest restrooms in the world.  Having travelled the world, this came as a surprise to us.  Both Charlie and I expected less than clean restrooms.  Yet every restroom was clean.  Some gleamed with recent polishing.  Take your own toilet paper, though.  That is seldom available.
6.  Peru has wonderful cuisine.  We enjoyed such things as Potato Cakes, Stuffed Peppers, Roasted Pork, Rotisserie Chicken, and other wonderful dishes while we were there.  Every dinner had potatoes, and sometimes there was rice as well.
7.  Lima’s airport is one of the best for a the middle-of-the-night layover.  When I saw our schedule included an eight-hour layover in Lima in the middle of the night, I was dreading it.  We arrived a little after midnight and went to see if we could check our bags, but the American Airlines desk did not open until 5:00 a.m.  We wandered, and found a Starbucks open.  After purchasing two mochas, the barista gave us the password to the internet.  For the next two hours, we toured the internet.  Then we browsed in the stores, all of which were open.  When the AA desk opened, we checked our luggage, passed through security, and then enjoyed the international wing until the time of our departure, including catching about an hour of sleep on the chairs there.

If I were a simple tourist, I would certainly want to visit Peru again.  It was a delightful experience for us in that way.  But as itinerant teachers, we want to visit again because the people of Peru are gracious, loving, and wonderful.

Mysterious Misti

They tell me that a snow-capped volcano is a majestic and beautiful sight.  For the past twelve days we have lived in the shadow of a beautiful volcano  named Misti, in the Andean mountains of Peru.  But Misti has remained a mystery to us because the days of rain and clouds shrouded it from our sight.  One morning, the clouds parted just enough to let us catch a glimpse of its shoulder.

Mysterious, snow-capped volcanoes may be incredibly beautiful, but they were not what drew us to the Andes mountains.  Instead, we went to meet a beautiful group of believers who were not at all mysterious to us.  They welcomed us with open arms, loved us, shared their lives and their hearts with us.  They rejoiced with us and cried with us, and we with them.  They have left a deep impression upon our lives that will remain with us until we see them again.

For three days in the evening, Charlie taught a gathering of believers from different churches.  On Sundays he preached in various churches.  I spoke to the ladies one evening, and Charlie challenged the young people in another meeting.  These were joyful times of sharing biblical truths with God’s people.

Perhaps some of the best times, though, were shared around the dinner table in the home of our hosts.  Laughter, tears, prayer concerns, questions about ministry and the Bible, and stories of the grace and glory of God were all part of those dinner time conversations.  Authentic Peruvian food satisfied our stomachs while the conversations satisfied our hearts.  (Our hostess was a marvelous cook.) 

We told our hosts that since Misti had not allowed us to see him, we needed to return.  But to be honest, it is not the mountain that draws us back, but the beautiful people.  It is difficult to put into a few words on this page the beauty of these few days.  As I process and post again, it will become clearer.  In the meantime, it is enough to say that, Lord willing, we will return.