Instead of the Thorn Bush

There weren't many trees in Eritrea. The government of the newly liberated country in East Africa had recently installed afforestation projects to plant new trees where previously there were none. But they were still saplings. Since most Eritreans cooked over wood fueled fires, trees were a precious commodity.

Come Christmas season, I had a problem. I wanted a Christmas tree, but there were none to be found. We finally decided to cut down the thorn bush in the front "yard" of our house. We wedged its stick-like trunk into a bucket of rocks and hung tiny ornaments sent by my sister-in-law. I was so proud of our Christmas tree!

We spent 2 1/2 challenging and wonderful years in Eritrea. I believe that we lived there during the best time in its history. We heard amazing stories from our friends who fought for independence. We saw joy and hope in the eyes of everyone who walked freely down the streets in the evenings when once they hid from MiGs flying overhead. Life was simple and happy for Eritreans. The nightmares of war faded and the dreams of a promising future grew more vivid.

Little did we know that only a few months of peace remained when we departed our little African home and returned to the USA. Before long we received news of fresh fighting. Within a few years we received news of our friends being imprisoned, tortured, killed. Churches went underground as persecution intensified. Unrest came both from within and from outside. Our hearts broke every time we heard a new report.

But God is sovereign and He is in control. This morning I read Isaiah 55 and I found a little phrase tucked away amid promises that God's ways are not our ways. Verse 13 says, "Instead of the thornbush will grow the pine tree".

How pleased I was with our thorn bush that Christmas we spent in Eritrea! But when I think of Eritrea nowadays, my heart is heavy. Figuratively speaking, even the thorn bushes are stripped away. But God is in control and one day (figuratively speaking) He will fill its landscape with pine trees!

I find hope in Hebrews 2:8,9a "In putting everything under him (Jesus), God left nothing that is not subject to him. Yet at present we do not see everything subject to him. But we see Jesus..."

Today I see the thornbush. I smell dirt. I feel the prick of the brier. It is ugly.

But when I look at God's people in Eritrea...I see green. I smell the scent of the fir. I see fresh. I see life. I see hope. I see pine trees.

One day, instead of the thorn bush will grow the pine tree.

One day...

Did You Tell Lana?

Lana was a young lady who had been visiting in our home each week.  One day after she left, my son asked me if she believed in Jesus. I told him no.

“You have to tell her about Jesus, Mom,” he said.

“If you will pray with me for Lana every day, then I will share with her next time she comes,” I replied.

That satisfied my son and he prayed each day. The next time that Lana came to our house, my son whispered to me, asking me if I had shared.

“What did your son say to you?” Lana asked.

“Well, he wants me to tell you all about Jesus,” I replied. And I did. That day my son prompted me to “get to the point” and share Jesus with my friend Lana.

As a family, we can be each other’s cheerleaders, prayer warriors and mission partners. Our kids are a vital part of our team. Kris and I have discovered that we grow closer as a family when we minister together. When we pray as a family for our nonbelieving friends, we get excited together when we have opportunities to share with them. When we open our home as a family we have a special bond: it is the bond of being on mission together.

Eid Mubarak!

It's quiet over here on my side of the island because most of my neighbors are Chinese and expats. But somewhere around here, and most definitely in places surrounding the island, folks are celebrating IdulAdha (Eid alAdha). I have some great memories of long hot days celebrating the holiday with our neighbors and friends.

Our first time to celebrate was in East Africa. Here we are, don't we look youuuuuuuuuuuung? By the way, that cute little lamb survived. It was not sacrificed that year, like so many other sheep were. Our friends were so proud of their new baby sheep that they wanted us to take a picture with it!

My first memory of Eid alAdha in North Africa was when our neighbors (who were Libyan), invited Aaron to come watch them sacrifice the sheep. When in Rome, right? So I sent my four-year-old next door to watch. Aaron came home to tell us how he got to feed the sheep and then the man cut the sheep "and jelly came out of his neck". Awesome. Mom-of-the-year.

I remember the year I relaxed in the courtyard of a friend and watch her prepare sheep intestines. She squished all the pellets out of the LONG tube and rinsed it out before looping it with her fingers like she was crocheting yarn. Then she boiled it. Your mouth is watering, right?

I remember eating raw liver while I was pregnant. I found out later (from my OBGyn) that in America that is a big No No. No raw liver when you are pregnant. OK, well, just to be safe, I'll NEVER EAT RAW LIVER AGAIN. Or esophagus. I will eat raw esophagus and liver only once in this lifetime ok?

I remember riding down the streets of our dusty desert town and seeing dead sheep hanging from door posts or trees outside the door, waiting to be skinned and prepared for lunch. Their heads sat on the ground beneath the bodies and next to a pool of blood.

I remember the yummy fried meat. Lots of it. Meat, meat, meat.

Eid alAdha: celebrating the provision of God when Abraham was going to sacrifice his son. God provided a substitute. I am so thankful that we no longer need to sacrifice. I am so thankful that God gave His Son, Jesus Christ, as a substitute for the punishment that I deserve.

Today I remember my Muslim friends and pray that they will meet God in a special way this year.

Crying Baby

My baby on the shore of the Nile River.

When our kids were small, I sometimes felt that my young ones took me away from ministry. That’s simply not true.  I remember one day my family was visiting in the home of an African family. One of our sons, who was a baby at the time, began to cry and I was forced to leave the room and stand outside. I began singing to comfort him. But in my heart I was so frustrated. If I didn’t have young children to take care of, I could be in the house sharing Jesus with that family. 

I continued to sing, I was singing the Lord’s Prayer in the local language. As I finished the song I noticed the mother had stepped outside and was listening to me. She asked me about the song I sang and I told her the story of when Jesus’ followers asked Him how they were to pray to God. It was such a sweet time. But you know, it never would have happened if I had not been outside comforting my crying baby.