Been here a while

It's been a while now.

I'm listening to the roosters crow in the early morning light on the day after Christmas.  I can pick and choose what I do today, but I know that soon my schedule will step back into the driver's seat. Some time early in January, when our one year anniversary of living here on Guam will come to pass, I'll likely be too busy to think much about it. So I'm taking time this morning to reflect on that coming marker on my calendar. I'm 67 years old, and  I've lived longer in this lovely little apartment on the campus of Pacific Islands University than any other place I've lived as an adult, except one. That sounds way more impressive if you don't know that Kathy lived in #1 place for more than 42 years. That doesn't leave much time for # 2 & #3. To say we have "put down roots" here would likely be an exaggeration and might belittle those who have invested so much more, though, to carry the image a bit farther, we are comfortable in the planter on the porch. For those four decades when my address was 2106 S. Carpenter Drive . . . (mail sent to that address still gets to us, by the way) I always tried to maintain the spirit of the old song, "This world is not my home. I'm just passing through." Now, in a sense, that homeless for Christ mentality is easier to maintain, but only in a sense. I find in me a kinship with Jonah, who came to regard the plant that shaded him as his in a particular and powerful sense. Usually, I have a pretty clear idea what I'm thinking about when I write "Something to Think About." This morning, not so much. I guess the best I can do, as I consider my anniversary of living in Mangilao Guam, is to share two things to think about, which might seem contradictory, but which I don't think are: Being transplanted is painful, for some more than others, we have a tendency to resist putting down roots--even in the pot on the porch--knowing that the next move is coming. Resist that self-protective urge. Be where you are. Nothing in the world is permanent. Jesus said of Himself, "Foxes have dens and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay His head" (Luke 9:58). Do we think we are better than He? It's STTA (Something To Think About).

My tiny sacrifice helps me see the bigger one:

Something To Think About The Cost of Discipleship:

I’ve read about those hearty missionaries who packed their belonging in a coffin, because they didn’t expect to return.  The folk who first came to the region where I am living, would book passage on a ship, be rowed ashore at their destination, and then they would figure it out.  Relatives would marry, children would be born, and loved ones would die.  These faithful servants wouldn’t know until, sometimes years had passed.  The fact that I’m sending this over an internet connection, from my comfortable apartment, certainly indicates that what I’m doing bears almost no resemblance to what those pioneers did. Almost--the “almost” was driven home the other day when I received news from my pastor that a good friend had died.  I remember sitting in his living room chatting with him about a month ago.  He was a man in his eighties, but just a babe in Christ.  I had known him for a number of years.  He had been a “prayer project” for Kathy, me, and a number of others.  We rejoiced when he put his faith in Christ.  His health had been in decline.  He had enough problems to keep a whole class of medical students busy for a semester.  As I looked at him that day back in his home in Virginia, I knew there was a strong possibility that I wouldn’t see him again in this life.  There was a pull.  Maybe I shouldn’t go after all. Just yesterday I read the words of the Lord Jesus to a would-be follower, “Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:60, NIV).  Various interpretive spins have been put on the statement.  I think it is likely that the man’s dad wasn’t dead, yet.  Often Jesus answered not only what people said, but what they thought.  It could be that the son’s concern was not related to future grief, but to present greed.  He needed to be there to make sure his inheritance was secure.  Clearly the Lord’s words need to be put in the context of His overall teaching about the cost of discipleship.  He spoke about denying one’s self, cross-bearing, and a willingness to make all other relationships secondary to devotion to Him.  Clearly, the cause of Christ is supreme. The next time I see my friend he won’t have a cough.  He’ll extend his arm fully—something he was not able to do for as long as I knew him—to shake my hand.  That grasp will allow us to pull one another into an embrace.  We’ll have a cup of heaven’s best coffee, and catch up a bit.  There will not be the least doubt that it was right for me to tell him good bye that day in Virginia.  “I might not see you down here again.”  It would be really cool—and just like I’m sure there will be coffee in heaven, I’m confident it is a place where cool things abound—it would be really cool if about then somebody came by and told about some impact my work here on the other side of the world had in their life.  I can see the twinkle in my friend’s eye as we enjoy that moment.  It’s STTA

Thinking about prayer lists:

Something To Think About Prayer Lists:

A bit of a warning, today's STTA is a bit more Theologically oriented than general.  I hope you'll read it and think about it, but you have been warned.   An old story tells about an un-churched man attending a small church prayer meeting.  As frequently is the case, this meeting involved more talking about what to pray about than it did actual praying.  After the faithful shared lists of prayer requests, and gave reports of answers to prayer, and other reasons for thanks, the newcomer announced, "Sure sounds like gossip to me." Yep.  I've been in that kind of "prayer meeting."  I've probably been the guilty party on more than one occasion. One of the modern concepts about prayer that is taken for absolute truth is the need for specificity in prayer.  "How will I know what to pray for, if you don't tell me?" is a question/rebuke that is often heard from prayer-warriors.  In response, folk who are very aware of the need for prayer--and in this regard there are two kinds of folk:  those who are aware that they need prayer and those who have an equal need but don't think about it--say things like, "Please pray specifically. . . ." It would be great if this started a profitable conversation about prayer.  I know I need to learn a great deal more about prayer.  Even more, I just need to learn to pray more.  And, I'm more aware than I ever have been of my need for prayer to be offered on my behalf.   I'm wondering, for instance, if our insistence on specificity in prayer has more to do with our addiction to instant information than it does with what the Bible teaches about prayer.  I've been reading about, and praying for a missionary friend who is in a dangerous, difficult place.  I was glad to see, this morning, that last night was uneventful.  I prayed accordingly.  As I read accounts from a couple of sources about my friend's situation I was reminded of some accounts of long-ago missionary service.  Some of those missionaries in the islands of the vast stretches of the Pacific would give a letter to a ship captain in hopes that it would eventually reach a church or a loved one.  Letters would contain news of sickness. Often the ailing person was dead and long buried, or miraculously cured, by the time the letter reached its destination.  Wasprayer a viable practice in that time--and historically, that is most of the time--before specific information could be swapped in what amounts to real time? When Jesus taught us to pray, He only implied specificity.  "Give us this day our daily bread." wouldn't pass muster with many prayer list makers (and one of my tasks today is to edit the prayer list for tomorrow's meeting).  "Do you need (want) white, whole-wheat, or rye?  Anybody in your family gluten-intolerant?  How many loaves would you think you need?"  That instruction about asking in prayer for daily bread is an invitation to make our needs known to our heavenly Father.  It is reinforced, by the Apostle Paul's words in Philippians 4:6, ". . . let your requests be made known."  Still, based on the prayers in the Bible that I do read, I don't imagine Jesus staying up all night or the Apostle Paul "praying always"  going through long lists that included things like Peter's bunion, or Timothy, weak stomach and all, staying well through the Sunday School picnic at Ephesus. Jesus prayed that His followers be kept in the name of God, that Christ's joy would be made full in them, for protection from the evil one, that they would be made holy by the truth, and that they would be united (see here).  When the Apostle Paul prayed for the Christians at Ephesus, he asked that God, "from his glorious, unlimited resources . . . will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. [that] . . . Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. [that their] roots will grow down into God’s love and [that they be kept] strong. . . . And . . . have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is, [and that they] . . . be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God. (Ephesians 3:16–19).  The fact is not only am I ignorant of what you need, and therefore what I ought to pray about, but so are you. I wonder.  In my quest for specific prayer requests am I in danger of specifically missing what the Lord says I ought to request?   It's Something to Think About. Find out about Christ's power to redeem here.

I mentioned yesterday that I spent the weekend with some veteran missionaries.  Our Missions Conference also included input from a young family who just finished their first couple of years in another culture.  Interaction with both families reinforced something I observe--as missionaries get deeper into the culture of others, they find that in spite of all the language, clothing, food, and lifestyle differences, at the bottom people are the same. Where mere outsiders see fascinating cultural oddities, and beauty; those who take time to learn the culture of another people-group discover that the culture of others, like our own, has two sides.  Both our way and their way of seeing the world and living in it, is a product  of God's image in man, thus cultures have elements of beauty, virtue, family love, and truth.  All cultures, however, are also made up of fallen people, thus our cultures include attempts to control our environment for our own selfish desires.  They are rife with greed, oppression, and all kinds of other evils.  Good missionaries know that "my" task is not to impose my culture on others. Rather it is to humbly point out that the word of God, and the God of the word, confronts all cultures--"all have sinned."  As people come to realize this and begin the lifelong process of Spiritual transformation, they begin to transform their culture from within.  The conscientious missionary does not want the culture of others to become like his/her own.  Rather she/he passionately desires that all cultures would be shaped by God's truth. That's a task in which we should all be interested. It's STTA.

" . . . of whom the world was not worthy." (Heb. 11:38)

SOMETHING  TO THINK ABOUT One of the privileges of being a small church pastor Ruth Hodge visiting with some CBC ladies last Saturday is hosting visiting missionaries in our home.  This past weekend we enjoyed having Ruth and Lonnie Hodge as house guests.  Our church has invested in the Hodges ministry in Bolivia for decades. One of the things I've noticed about missionaries Lonnie enjoying a good laugh over the years, is that the dedication it takes to settle in a foreign culture, learn a new language, and reach out to people whose ways seems strange is something often handed down from parent to child.  At breakfast this morning Ruth told us about her step-mom, Muriel DeRitter.   Muriel was one of those hardy folk who didn't have sense enough to realize what they couldn't do, so they just went out and did it.  Muriel went to Africa during World War 2.  Her ship had to outrun a submarine in order to arrive.  She--a nurse, who hadn't been schooled in tropical medicine, because the war prevented her from getting to the school--was put in charge of a clinic in the Belgium Congo.  A doctor who visited once a week helped her out.  On her first furlough she received training in treating tropical diseases and remained in the Congo until the revolution forced the white missionaries to leave.  After that she married a widower and became step-mom to one of the finest missionaries I know.   Muriel appeared before the Lord a short time ago after her assignment on earth was finished. "Well done, good and faithful servant." It's STTA.   You can find out more about the message, and her step-daughter proclaim here.