May we not become wampus.

August 29, 2014

May we not become wampus.

I had an epiphany, and I think it was holy.

The image of the three wiseman come to mind as I lay in bed, of carrying gold, frankinscence, and myhrr out on a journey traveling far to give their best to the Babe in the manger.

I think of Ethiopia.

Whether we are carrying a small suitcase or shipping a container...

May we not become wampus, and forget. An Ethiopian brother had to remind me. While it is hard some days for me and my American mind - in the land of the plenty - to wrap around the why we wouldn't...

It really is not about the material now, just as it was not about the material then.

We in our wisdom become wise when we know it was always, always about the Babe. Therein lies our focus...

We deliver our goods in worship to Him, and it is not my job nor can I - in my own strength - just like Lucy in the Chronicles of Narnia movie make you see what I see now - that you can't see...or won't see...and get frustrated or angry about it...in our journey unto Journey. I ask for grace in that, and instead, I surrender that fight to Him and I let Him do it. It is His mission anyway.

I fly out in twelve days. Twelve!

May God richly bless our time these "lasts" of last days, and in the days to come.

It matters.

Wrote this last night around midnight. Still need time with Jesus on it...

___________

Tonight is one of those late night moments I wish my Dad was still here to comb my hair before bed and we could talk late at night. Things I would ask him in his wisdom:

1. Why do we have people talk about how poor they are when they have every hair on their head and there are kids losing theirs and we go on as if that missionary picture didn't matter, as if sponsorships or doing something about it is an inconvenience?

2. Why are we so bible illiterate when we are literate? And there are people who die for carrying one who can't read it (never taught how in their own language) yet they treat it as pure gold?

3. How do I not get bored on Sunday mornings and keep the fire aflame when everything in me wants to puke in our safe, secure and taken for granted worship?

He would tell me to get him a pop as he repositioned himself on the couch (this is him going to his Leader), and he would pull me close. He would tell me not to let the sun go down on my anger when it comes to my frustrations.

This is how sideview mirrors come off cars when trash cans get in the way. Stupid trash cans.

But Dad isn't here.

Ten years later and I'm flying to Africa on a one way ticket - not yet fully funded but fully provided for - and why, why does it matter so much?  The Gospel.  And...

These kids are me.

I get it, and I get them as the loss of my Dad is a part of my story, so send me out.

And sometimes missionaries lose it.

Neither one of us would be sure to have all the answers.

But I trust Jesus. I know the One in whom I trust, and we will get the answers to the crazy and unbelievable and __________ on the other side.  Rev. 21:4.

Sincerely, your unshakeable rebel missionary who does not want to be called "precious" right now but she is anyway. ;)

Moments of Surrender

What does surrender look like?

It's like crash dummy testing.  You hit brick wall after brick wall...until finally the dummy gets out of the car and says "I'm done."

I think we expect a new body in those moments...but the new body is what awaits us.

There are just less walls.

Jesus, make me an Habesha.

Jesus, make me an Habesha.

Prayers I've been praying lately.

(Did that just happen?!!)

My feet long to be black with Ethiopian sand.  I want to hold hungry lost-in-the-world children in my lap.  I want to see HIV positive go negative in healing services like they talked about.  I want to hear "ferenji, money, money" and say "ow, Yesus" and "teacher, grade 3" with taps and tugs on the arm.  I ache in missing them.

I want to pour and spill out all that's in me and be desperate for more.  I want bibles they can read to fly out of my hands into hearts into other hands and other hearts.  I want to learn how to make soccer balls out of socks and find the socks to make them. 

I want to drink straight from the coffee bean hand ground coffee and tea from cups that have never seen American soap and perhaps not the cleanest water and eat popcorn that may or may not be crawling with roaches because its what they have and it would offend not to.  I want to go shopping, lots and lots of shopping.  I want to feel like I'm doing something.

I want to hear the Muslim call to prayer and pray to my God, the God of Israel, as if I am the only one and perhaps feel threatened (heightened awareness) but stand firm and still standing.  I want to miss you and you miss me.  I want to miss your voice knowing I know it.  I want to take you with me.  I want to fight for Joy.  I want to see that boy ride that donkey as if Christ Himself were coming for me.

I want my heart to break, to spill out as jello, to soften, to numb, to feel nothing which means steady, to come to that soul cry of broken before the God of Jacob, Holy Jehovah, who holds every heart and soul together, and my heart to hurt that bad for the lost.  I want my Leader in it.  I want to do something about it. 

I want to come back a little less normal than I was before and have every right to be with the craziest of Alice in Wonderlands from big to small to nothing - from having a bed to a make shift bag.  I want to be angry, righteous angry, call out greed for what it is, not get stuck judging and love again. 

More than all I want to saturate His presence.  I want His nations on their face before Him.  The One who took first world, third world, and world world and deems it as holy. 

Jesus, let your will be done and have your way in my life.