"You must speak my words to them..."

Last week I found out that Miss Milly passed away. This dear lady was one of our favorite persons to visit when the boys and I go on walks in our community. Even my mother-in-law would visit her when she took the boys for walks. She loved to see the Jackson and Justus. She would marvel at Justus' blue eyes and Jackson's large hands. In a firm (but loving) tone, she would ask Jackson if he was obeying me, and if he wasn't minding me during our impromptu visits, she would gently scold him. I knew she was struggling with her health, but I had no idea how serious it was. A month ago, I knocked on her door and no one answered. I continued to stop by her house in the coming weeks with the same results. I began to fear the worst.

When I found out she had passed, I was deeply grieved and disturbed. I was upset at myself for not knowing she was in the hospital. I was angry with myself for never giving her my phone number. But most of all, I was grieved that I never fully shared the gospel with her. Sure, I had asked her if I could pray for her and I did pray for her on many occasions. But I never asked her if she had a relationship with the Savior. I never clearly shared the gospel message with her. It pains me to think that she might have passed from this world without the saving knowledge of Jesus Christ.

Her death caused me to take a closer look at my presence in my neighborhood. I began to ask myself hard questions: Am I actively seeking out the lost and sharing Christ with them? Am I burdened by the reality that people in my community are living and dying without the hope that can only be found in our Lord?

I am a missionary but that does not mean I always live up to my calling. I realized I had become complacent. Not only that, but I think sometimes I refrained from sharing the gospel because I was afraid of rejection. I live in a neighborhood where there is much spiritual darkness- people who desperately need Christ but whose hearts have become hardened by misery, bitterness and doubt.

I recently read Ezekiel 2. This chapter both convicted and inspired me.

In this passage, God is instructing Ezekiel to proclaim His message to the rebellious Israelites- a people whose hearts were hard and unsubmissive.

"And you, son of man, do not be afraid of them or their words. Do not be afraid though briers and thorns are all around you and you live among scorpions. Do not be afraid of what they say or terrified by them...You must speak my words to them, whether they listen or fail to listen.." (Ezekiel 2:6,7).

Whether people listen to me or not- whether they accept the message of salvation or reject it does not change my mission. God has called me to preach to good news to those living in the inner city. He has called me to be faithful. One commentary said this about Ezekiel: "He was called to faithfulness of the task, not to success as the world conceived it...faithfulness is the primary requisite of service, not apparent accomplishment."

May I forever be faithful to the mission God has called me to.

Heaven's Gates Opened Wide

Last week, a dear friend of our family passed away. Although his health had been declining, Marlon's passing was sudden. I had been planning to visit him the following week (he lived a few hours away), but never got the chance. I left a somewhat tearful message on his phone a few days prior. Somehow, I knew I would never get to visit with him one last time.

Marlon grew up in Watts, California. Like many young people in our ministry, he came from a broken family. As a youth, he became involved with our ministry. As a young adult, he moved to Kansas to be a part of our training program at Morning Star Ranch. After graduating from the program, he made his home in Wichita. Marlon came to visit our family often. He had a tough exterior but he always had a soft spot for us kids. He was a deep thinker and often felt burdened by questions of a spiritual nature. He would spend a lot of time discussing (and at times, arguing) these things. But there was no doubt that he had saving knowledge of Christ.

Sadly, Marlon had no connection with his biological family. His only family was our World Impact family.

Several years ago, his health took a turn for the worse when he began to experience paralysis due to complications from spinal meningitis. My dad found him an excellent nursing home in Kansas City that would care for him. My mom and dad and fellow missionary Al Ewert were faithful in visiting Marlon and administrating aspects of his finances and medical care. Us kids would visit him when we got the chance and he was always very glad to see us.

A week ago, my mom was in Kansas City with a friend when Marlon's health went downhill. In God's sovereignty, He orchestrated it so she could be there to stand by his bed and hold his hand as he labored to breathe. He was experiencing congestive heart failure and would have attacks where he could hardly breathe. These attacks were very scary for him and so it was a blessing to know that my mom could be there to pray for him and speak words of love and encouragement.

He made it a few more days before passing peacefully in his sleep. My prayer for Marlon during those days was that he would not be scared or fearful about dying but that he would be comforted knowing his Maker would be welcoming him with open arms.

This whole experience has caused me to wonder in awe at the hope we have in Christ- that this life is not the end! Heavens gates are open wide to those who believe! Heaven's gates are open to the Marlons of this world- to those whose lives have been riddled with pain and tragedy. We minister to many  whose lives resemble our dear brother Marlon. They struggle with physical limitations, emotional baggage from shattered childhoods and pain and disappointment from broken relationships. They need loving Christians to walk alongside them and guide them in the truth. I have a renewed passion to spread this hope to those in my community.

"Death has been swallowed up in victory. 'Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?' The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory though our Lord Jesus Christ" (1 Corinthians 15:54-57).

Battle Stories

Last week, Daren and I took a short getaway to Tulsa (exciting, I know) to use up a quickly expiring living social voucher. During our time away, the Lord brought us into contact with a couple of people that had an impact on us. The first, was an former army soldier who was a part of the road crew. He came to our rescue when my dear husband overestimated his ability to get us to the next gas station while almost on empty. He graciously drove us to a gas station so we could get gas and then returned us to our vehicle.

Our second acquaintance was also a veteran- he served our country in the Vietnam war. We met him while hanging out by the pool. We got into a conversation and he tells us that he is in town for his daughter's funeral. She died unexpectedly two weeks prior. He proceeds to express how his faith in God has been challenged more than any other time in his life.

One thing he says sticks in my mind: "You know, being a Christian is a lot harder than being a soldier."

A few days later I am still mulling this over. The scripture that keeps coming to mind is Ephesians 6:12: "For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places."

The spiritual battles we face can be tougher and more daunting than any earthly battle. I am reminded of this truth as I walk through our neighborhood. There is so much spiritual darkness in our community. There are strongholds of addiction, depression, abuse, violence and fear. It is a battle. At times, I struggle to feel equipped to fight against the powers of Satan in our community. And then I remember that the Lord will fight the battle for me. All I need to do is be a faithful soldier. For me, that means praying on a regular basis for the people in my community. I take the boys on walks through our neighborhood and we pray. Along the way, we stop and visit with folks sitting on their porches.

Last week, we visited with Roy. Roy is an older gentleman who has lived in our community since 1965. He and his 16 siblings moved from Mississippi to Kansas in the early sixties. Roy’s house is the center for much activity in the neighborhood. He has weekly barbecues with many of his friends and family members. Our prayer is that we will get to know Roy and his family better so we can minister God’s love to them.

We also visited Miss Milly. Miss Milly loves to be visited by Jackson and Justus. She used to be a maid and took care of children in her younger years. She doesn’t leave her house often, so our visits are a highlight to her. I am reminded that Christ has called us to minister to the “least of these.” To those who have no one else- to those who desperately need Christ’s love and salvation.

I know these don't exactly sound like battle stories- there is nothing glamorous and awe-inspiring. But the battle to win the lost for Christ doesn't always involve brandishing shining swords or heroic acts. Sometimes, fighting the battle is being a loving and caring presence in a dark and hurting neighborhood.

Despite the fact that there will be times we feel we are losing the battle, we can rest assured on this truth: Christ has won the war! Christus Victor!

Women with "True Grit"

"Mommy, you have no bumps on your arms."

"What do you mean, bumps?"

"Daddy has big bumps on his arms."

"Oh, you mean muscles."

"Yes. You don’t have any muscles."

While it’s true that my arms cannot compare to my husband's (or to that of First Lady Michelle Obama), I am not completely without “bumps” as my three year old would claim. I have birthed two hefty boys and have carried them up and down stairs, lifted them in and out of car seats and have paced back in forth with them in my arms during the long watches of the night. I do, indeed, have muscles (in addition to back and shoulder problems).

Yet, my true strength as a woman does not come from my muscle definition alone. I come for a long line of strong women who defy the notion that woman is the weaker sex. My grandma on my dad’s side was a farmer’s wife and mother to six children (four of those boys). A sweet woman full of love and compassion, one might not see the strength in this soft-spoken woman. She survived breast cancer as a younger woman, reared six children, and made several trips to the emergency room with sons with broken ribs, collar bones, poisoning from insecticide, a lacerated hand, and more. Farming isn’t for the faint of heart. When her youngest wandered into the pen with steers, she boldly ran in, getting kicked in the head, so she could rescue her little boy. She passed away two years ago and I still miss her sweet smile. I will always remember that she carried herself with strength, grace and dignity.

My own mother has raised four children in the mission field of the inner city. She managed to take care of all of us as well as lead a dynamic ministry among women in the city. I've watched her hold her own in dangerous neighborhoods where people questioned her right to be there spreading the Word of God. She never let fear deter her from what God called her to do. 

Whenever I feel overwhelmed and I think, “Life is too hard. I just don’t have the strength to do what needs to be done”, I remember the women who came before me. The hardy pioneer women who gave birth in leaky wagons on the Oregon Trail, the intrepid women who stepped up during WWII and did a “man’s job” working in aircraft and munitions factories, and the uncompromising women who fought for equality so I can vote. And then I think of the women whose faces I know well- my own mother and grandmothers. And I think, if they were strong, I can be strong.

"I have enjoyed riches and suffered the pangs of poverty. I have seen U.S. Grant when he was little known. I have baked bread for General Fremont and talked to Kit Carson. I have run from bear and killed most all other kinds of smaller game."

~ Nancy Kelsey, pioneer and mother of 11 children, 1841 (America's Women, Gail Collins, 209).

"She laughs at the time to come"

Maybe, if you're like me, you feel like you don't quite measure up to the "Proverbs 31 woman". I was recently reading through this Proverb and considered some of its verses:

• "She is like the ships of the merchant; she brings her food from afar. She rises while it is yet night and provides food for her household..." Me: "She shops at Walmart and when she is really tired she provides frozen pizza for her family."
• "...her clothing is fine linen and purple." Me: "Her clothing is a cotton/polyester blend from the clearance rack at Target."
• ''...she opens her mouth with wisdom..." Me: "She opens her mouth and says something she instantly regrets."
• "...she laughs at the time to come"  Me: "She wrings her hands in worry about what the future holds."

What confidence to be able to laugh at the days to come! I don't believe that has ever been my reaction when considering the future and all the unknowns that lie ahead- unless you count nervous laughter verging on hysteria...

The verse preceding states that "strength and dignity are her clothing". This woman has pride in herself- pride in who God has created her to be and she has the strength to face the days ahead. I have to keep reminding myself that the Lord has equipped me and will continue to equip me for whatever the future holds. There are moments of panic when I dwell on the hurdles that will surely come as I raise my children, continue in ministry and face my own personal struggles. My mind races with questions: "What will I do if..." What will happen when..."

Well, maybe I can't laugh at the days to come yet, but I'm working on it. Right now, I'll try to heed Matthew 6:34: "Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble."

A Shout-Out to All You Moms!

While there is no road map for raising children, I often wonder, "Am I doing this right?" Unfortunately, guilt sometimes accompanies the decisions I make and the actions I take as a parent. As moms, we can compare ourselves to other mothers. We scan facebook, and suddenly feel guilty as we see posts and pictures of the mom who has endless energy to bake healthy treats, take her kids on educational outings everyday and still keep an immaculate house. We never read posts about moms who lose their temper and yell at their child for scratching deep grooves into their coffee table with the tip of an umbrella (confession: that was me). So we condemn ourselves and continue on in our endless pursuit to be "that mom who has it all together". Well, enough is enough! We may not be perfect, but God designed us to be exactly the kind of mom our children need us to be. And with His help, we can be moms who are Christ-like which is far superior than any made-up version we have in our heads.

With that said, here's a shout-out to:

- The mom whose kid is screaming in the shopping cart- I won't judge you because I've been there (haven't we all)!

- The mom who works full time- you go girl! You truly amaze me with how you balance it all (yes, you Dana Oswald!)

- The mom who is raising teenagers and pre-teens- I haven't been down that road, but it's challenging and you deserve a pat on the back!

- To the mom who feels guilty about her kid watching back-to-back episodes of Thomas the Tank Engine so she can get some stuff done- don't feel guilty, a little TV never hurt a kid and it's important for us moms to feel like we are productive!

- To the mom who buys store-bought cookies and frozen lasagnas, we aren't all Betty Crockers and that's okay!

- To the mom who homeschools, I don't know how you do it, but way to go!

- The the missionary mom who balances motherhood and ministry, you're expanding God's kingdom both within your home and outside it!

- To the mom who sometimes cries at night because it all seems so overwhelming, it's a normal feeling and you are not alone!

- To the first-time mom with a sleepless newborn, it does get easier (eventually)!

- To the mom who has had to learn algebra all over again so she can help her teenager with his homework, graduation day is around the corner!

- To the mom with a baby, toddler and kindergartener, congratulations on remaining sane!

- To the mom who is still in her pajamas at lunch time, some days are like that and who says you have to be dressed to be productive!

I could go on and on, but I think you get the picture. We are all in different stages and seasons of motherhood, but each one is uniquely challenging and rewarding. Keep on, all you super moms!

A New Year...

My New Year's resolution for 2012 was that I start a blog and post at least once a month. I did a fairly good job- I didn't post every month but I made up for it by posting twice in some months. :) I wanted to have the same resolution for this year. As you can see, it is January 31 and I have only two hours before  February makes its appearance.

Last night I lay awake trying to think of something interesting, though-provoking or original to write about. Well...nothing came to me.

So, I thought I'd write something about the new year- not the usual stuff on resolutions and all that jazz.   I want to focus on my hopes for the new year:

I hope to SURVIVE another year of motherhood. I hope to survive sickness, exhaustion, temper tantrums and continual self-sacrifice as I tend to the needs of my beloved children. As much as I love them, I'll be honest, there are some days when I fantasize about my golden years when my boys are grown up and living their own lives. I long for the day when I can simply plop down on the couch a read a book cover to cover and take a shower without worrying whether the baby is crying or whether my three year old is using my bed as a trampoline. 

I hope to ENJOY my children. Yes, as I previously mentioned, there are times when a mom just has to focus on survival. But I don't want to miss out on all the wonderful moments along the way. The simple pleasures of cuddling on the couch, singing lullabies at night and kissing the soft skin on their chubby cheeks; seeing the world through their eyes as they ask questions about the things around them; and hearing "I love you" when it is least expected.

I hope for PEACE in my life life. I seek freedom from worry and anxiety. At times, it feels like I am stumbling around carrying a backpack filled with useless bricks. The bricks serve no purpose but to exhaust me and slow me down. I hope to learn how to cast my "bricks" upon Christ, for He cares for me (I Peter 5:7).

I hope to MINISTER to those living in my community-especially women. I pray that the Lord will use me as His vessel to bring light and hope to women who do not know Him. 

I hope to LEARN more about God's Word, the culture of people we minister to and the issues that pertain to ministry. I pray for the ability to understand the limits of my own understanding and the humility to learn from others.

I hope to CREATE. I've realized that there is a part of me that needs a creative outlet. It is energizing for me to put my creative skills (however small they may be) to good use. Whether it is re-covering chairs or playing with mod podge- there is a great sense of satisfaction in knowing I created something truly original. How awesome it is to know that the ultimate Creator created us to have the same ability (on a much, much lesser scale, of course).

On my own, I couldn't hope to do any of these things. Thankfully, I serve a God who gives me all that I need.

"I can do everything through him who gives me strength" (Philippians 4:13).