WANTED: Fellow Workers

I keep writing and talking about the ways we fall flat in putting our faith into action. But I don't want to be just another person who runs her mouth with nothing to show. I certainly don't have it all figured out, and I continually struggle with not doing the things I know I should.

My purpose in this post is not to praise what I'm doing, but rather to show you that in some small way, I am trying to walk my talk. And I need your help.

I was driving in the rain a few weeks ago (an almost daily occurrence lately) and brainstorming ways to give more and have less. Christmas is around the corner, and I know my mom will be asking for my wish list.

The problem is I don't really have much of anything on my wish list. The last thing I want is to ask for more, because there's nothing I truly need that I don't already have. So I was trying to figure out what I could put on my Christmas list that I could use to benefit others.

My mom had just left my place that morning after spending the weekend with me. She was gracious enough to dump off an old sewing machine that someone somewhere had decided I needed to have.

(I don't know how to sew.)

It hit me then that I could ask for materials to make blankets and put the old machine to use (and/or crochet). Then I could give those blankets away. Right now my plan is to share them with local homeless people, because it sure gets cold here in the winter. That plan could change, and I could decide to donate them to any various organization out there who distributes blankets locally and around the world. But for now...that's my plan.

The problem is two-fold: 1) I am a very slow crocheter and currently this sewing machine is not working, and 2) materials are spendy.

Here is my offer to you if you've been looking for a way to extend your resources. Would you help me in this endeavor? I'm afraid I may succumb to discouragement if I have only my own meager progress to watch, and I don't want to give up. So would you pray for this project as I pursue God's plan for it? Would you be willing to donate supplies or even make a blanket of your own?

The thought of the one or two blankets I could make on my own doesn't satisfy me. I believe with the support of each other, we can do much to love many.

The Mission We Don't See

This is a hard post to write.

These thoughts have been bouncing around in my head for a couple of weeks now. Once in a while I try to catch them, but before I can put them into writing, they slip through my grasp and resume their race around my mind. I sit and watch them, observing, sometimes see them take shape. I learn from them.

But they sure are tricky.

So tonight I sit and try (perhaps in vain) to draw these thoughts in long enough to make sense of them, to paint a picture of the challenge they present to me.

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Each week we gather to fill the cushioned pews, brought together by a common belief, dressed in our Sunday best, all tidied up for another time of worship and fellowship. Lunch comes after the sermon, either at home with our families or out together with our fellow Church-goers. We flock together, are drawn together.

Then Sunday ends, and we move on with Monday, rarely carrying anything over with us into the new week.

We forget that on Monday, our Mission begins afresh.

I have been blessed to have been a part of a few Church bodies throughout my life who support missions wholeheartedly. These small gatherings of believers send large amounts of money to finance the work of the few missionaries who have dared to follow the voice of the Creator.

They do a wonderful work, these believers. They leave their own homes and countries for the sake of sharing the gospel to a lost and broken people.

But I can't help but notice...I think we've missed something major.

The Gospel thrives in many of these underpriviliged and persecuted countries. Underground Churches are growing exponentially as new believers sacrifice their families and comforts for the sake of knowing Christ. They love Him.

Without the comfortable seats, the beautiful songs, the educated preacher, the heated baptistry...they love Him.

All the while, we cling to our comforts and occasionally try to think of ways to fit Jesus into our lives without giving anything else up. We carry on while our country tries to extinguish God from our Pledge, schools, and holidays.

We are a wealthy people with many possessions living in a country of opportunity. We shop for new furniture, the latest gadgets, and bigger homes. We drive newer cars, eat at nice restaurants, shop at name brand stores.

We are surrounded by people in need, jobless, and living on the street. There are people in our communities who can't afford to buy groceries or clothe their kids. Teenagers wander around aimlessly, searching for a place to belong, finding identity in rebellion and crime. High school girls carry babies in their arms, forced into responsibilities beyond their years while still learning how to find their footing in a vicious and unforgiving world. Men stare at the pictures on their computer screens and deaden their pain with the bottle. Women wake up next to different partners each morning, looking for love but not realizing it runs deeper than a one-night stand. Couples divorce as though they committed to nothing, and their children grow up never learning what it is to love and cherish your partner.

This is the country we live in. These are the things we are surrounded by every day, and yet somehow completely oblivious to. Instead, we set our sights on the things we don't have. We shut out the hurting and the pain.

Jesus said, "it is hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. ...it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God (Matt. 19:23-24)."

Whether or not we consider ourselves wealthy, the fact is that we are rich.

Filthy rich.

Christian or not, the people of our nation make up the tiny percent of the world's population who can afford to buy food every day. And yet, our nation continually tries to snuff out the presence of the Provider of our wealth.

Our Churches send missionaries to the farthest corners of the earth. And rightfully so, for Jesus is the Deliverer of all peoples and nations. But we neglect the mission field sitting right outside our doors.

Indeed, I believe it is our own nation in which it has become the hardest for people to know the true Christ.

Despite complaints of constant wet and early snows, God has painted many beautiful scenes this fall. Been taking several pictures on my phone to and from work over the past weeks. Here is a glimpse into some of the beauty I've been blessed to experience.

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Early morning sunrise through fog and mist

Evening sunset

Another beautiful sunrise

And another

A view of the power plant from fifteen miles away

Beautiful colors along the highway

How many times do you see green leaves and grass under a blanket of snow?

Bright yellow leaves

From my own backyard...

Amazing colors out my back door that I nearly missed.

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The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of His hands.
Psalm 19:1

A Story From the Good Ol' Days

For whatever reason, I have had more notable conversations than usual with some of my patients. I like that. I enjoy hearing my patients tell me something that makes me ponder a bit.

I was working with one of my elderly patients at the clinic. She and her husband used to farm, back in the day. But now she lives alone as he has since passed on.

I was setting up a piece of equipment for her to use for an exercise, but the last user had reassembled it incorrectly. I tinkered with the thing for a while as she watched, and then finally was able to put all the pieces back into place as they belonged.

"You're quite a mechanic. I have no ability to do anything like that," she said to me.

I told her no, I'm really not that mechanically talented. As is the tendency, one subject leads to another, and she was soon telling me a story from her days on the farm. She was the wife of a farmer, but not as much an active participant in the farming. Her knowledge of machinery was pretty much nil. She couldn't tell one part from the next.

Sometimes equipment broke down. If the men couldn't figure out how to fix it, her husband would ask her to come take a look and see if she could get the job done.

"I'd tell him, 'I don't know the first thing about what you're trying to do.' He'd say, 'That's why I want you to come look at it. You don't know the right way to do it like we do. Maybe you can find a new way that we haven't thought of.' "

For whatever reason, that struck me as incredibly profound and wise.

When I can't get something done, the last thing that occurs to me is to ask someone who knows absolutely nothing about what I'm doing to help. But this husband not only had the wisdom to think beyond his own method of getting the job done, he also had the trust and confidence in his wife to do something that he couldn't.

No huge epiphony or spiritual application here. Just something for me to ponder.

A Time For Everything

"Eventful" is probably an adequate way to describe the past...well...few weeks at least.

Things are changing. Maybe not even changing, but different from the expected.

I expect to see red and yellow leaves falling with a bright blue sky as a backdrop on a crisp and cool day. But instead I've seen snow.

The farmers expect to spend long days in their combines, bringing in the corn and beans before winter hits. Instead, they spend their days inside as the soggy mess outside teases their futures and livelihoods.

I expect to continue on in the pattern of every day life with its usual ups and downs. Instead, everything at work is about to be turned on its head as we bid farewell to a coworker and frantically try to figure out how to bridge the gap she will leave.

There are seasons. And there are uncertainties. There is the usual, but rarely can it be trusted.

This is what we call life. The earth doesn't stop turning simply because things are out of the ordinary.

Instead, we get knocked to our knees for a time, then stand up and move forward the best we know how. Someetimes we stumble, sometimes we keep pace.

Onward we push, and forward we move.

One step at a time.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

a time to embrace and a time to refrain,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,

a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,

a time for war and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

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It was not my intention, but this post carries similar tones to a couple of others I have recently read. My friends Lyla and Jennifer have shared their own thoughts at A Different Story and Getting Down With Jesus.