Divine Appointments

As we continue in our deputation ministry I am amazed at the many times it is obvious, to me at least,  the Lord has scheduled an appointment for me.  I only need to be faithful in fulfilling the appointment. The other day Joan and I went out to try to catch some pastors in their studies and talk with them. On our first visit we found the pastor in, willing to speak to us, knowledgeable about IPM and open to the possibility of our presenting our ministry at the church. We found a man we knew from Maine standing in the office.  He is a part of the ministry of the church. We did not know what we would find, but God had set up a divine appointment.

“ Ah,” you say, “what of your other visits that day?” They did not go as well.  One flat turn down, one offer to give our prayer card to the Missions Committee and one conversation with a pastor who did not seem overly interested. “It was only the luck of the draw, pure chance!,” you say.  I believe it was a divine appointment, and so were the others. I cannot see the results of any of the visits yet.  I can only be faithful to take the opportunities the Lord gives me and use them to minister to the churches and people He places in my life, divine appointments, for His glory!

Fears Over a Secret Mission

My secret mission does not include daggers, lies, and spies.  Hopefully, the dark side of secret missions will be forever lost on me.  Instead, my secret mission will bring surprise, joy, and encouragement to my sisters in Christ.

It began more than a month ago when I was talking with a deaconness from our church.  They were planning a ladies' retreat, one which I had planned myself for many years previously.  The new pastor's wife could not be there because their house had not sold.  All of a sudden, with the exhuberant joy that comes flying out of my mouth without thinking, I said, "Maybe I could come."  In that brief, exciting moment without the concerns of the husband left behind, the cost of getting there, the long hours, or adding to my sisters' busy schedules by asking them to pick me up, I almost jumped in with both feet.  I caught myself on the rim of the decision and said, "I really need to talk to Charlie before I decide, so please keep it under wraps until I've had a chance to do that."

And so the idea of a Secret Mission was born.

I talked with Charlie about it.  With the cost of gas and overnights on the way and our negative cash flow, driving up and back was out of the question.  "What about the bus?" I mused.

I checked the bus fares and schedules.  "Do-able," he said.

So I bought the 45-hour bus fare to Maine.

That night I had super-sized regrets and couldn't sleep.  What was I thinking?  Why did I not listen more closely to Charlie's concerns over finances?  Why did he not talk to me more seriously about our negative cash flow?  Where was my respect for him if I let my own excitement squash his careful reasoning?  Much of the night I poured out my concerns to the Lord and confessed my lack of love for my husband.

In the morning, I told him of my regret.  Buyer's remorse, I called it, even though it was more than that.

"Why?" he asked me gently.

"That's a lot of money with our current cash flow situation," I replied regretfully.

"I know," he said.  "But isn't it worth it to go back to our sending church and give them an update?  Isn't is worth it to go and encourage our family of supporters?"

I smiled tentatively and gave thanks to God for this husband of mine.  He knew the "empty nest syndrome" for this pastor's wife was in full swing.  He knew it would do me good to go back and see my "kids" and "grandkids".  Out of love for me, he agreed, and I am so thankful.

So here I sit - on a bus miles from home and somewhere between Georgia and Maine.  (In order to keep the secret, this will not be posted until after I get there.)

No, there are no daggers or lies, but there is the Sword of Truth:  "And let us consider one another to provoke unto love and to good works: Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is; but exhorting one another: and so much the more, as ye see the day approaching." 

This time I'm going a long way to "assemble together" and "exhort" my sisters, but I'm so glad I can do it.

Instilling a Love for Missions in the Heart of Your Child, Part 1

Missions and children.  When a child catches a glimpse of the needs of the world, it is exciting to see.  But for some busy moms, the very idea of trying to find ways to include missions in family life can be overwhelming.  So here are some practical ideas that won't take much more time.

Host a missionary family.  When a visiting missionary comes through your church, get to know them on a personal basis.  Invite them over for a meal, a play date, coffee, or overnight, depending on what your schedule can handle.  Don't worry about private bathrooms or even bedrooms for them.  They are used to sleeping anywhere and will be delighted with the opportunity to be in your home.

Pray for missionaries as a family.  You know those prayer cards that missionaries give out like candy?  Keep them near the kitchen table.  Grab one at supper and include them in your mealtime prayers.  Or let your children keep some in their room and pray for them at bedtime.

Ethnic meal times.  Three times a day and 365 days a year, meals are made.  So every once in a while focus on a country for one night.  Go online and find ideas for decorating and let the children help with decorating.  Set the table (or the coffee table or floor) according to the traditions of the country.  Many missionaries would be delighted to cook an ethnic meal for you in your home and provide eating instructions. 

Learn geography together.  When her children were small, my sister picked up some geography placemats.  While she was preparing dinner and the children were hanging around the kitchen, she played geography games with them.  "Who can be the first to find . . . ?"  And the children raced each other to see who could find it first.

More ideas next time.  If I put all my ideas into one blog, it would be overwhelming.  If just one of these ideas work, you will be on the way to leaving an international mark on the heart of your child.

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.