The Tear

To read this story from the beginning, click HERE.

The next time Liya and Jackie went to visit Rohiza's family, there was no bad smell. They sat on the floor against the opposite wall from the last visit, the wall by the door. The room seemed brighter and a breeze brushed against Jackie. She noticed a ceiling fan and that the television was actually on a proper television stand. Jackie saw pictures on the wall. Had they been there before? There were the swirly designs of Arabic and a large framed picture of a bride and groom. On this day Jackie saw familiar faces and they were so excited to see the two ladies. Why had she thought the room looked so dirty before? It really wasn't so bad. In reality, nothing had changed but Jackie's perspective.

"Where were you last week?" Intan asked.

"We gathered together and waited for you but you didn't come!" Rohiza exclaimed.

Rohiza and Intan still had insane teeth, but Jackie didn't notice them so much. She still couldn't understand a word Rohiza said, but Jackie could see a bit of her heart. On this day Liya and Jackie learned more names and met more people. Rohiza served lukewarm chocolate milk and over-fried blobs of banana pieces dipped in batter. Jackie knew the family couldn't afford to spare this, there were so many mouths to feed.

Jackie looked around the room. There are 16 of people sitting on the floor and a few more in one of the rooms. The floor...it didn't seem all that dirty after all. The TV incessantly played a scratchy soap opera, the girls in the bedroom listened to loud music. A dad, another son of Rohiza, reclined on the floor with no shirt on and was yelling at his baby son. Kids came in and out, alternately playing and watching the visitors. Yep, it was still a lot of craziness all in one little house.

Liya and Jackie tried to converse with Rohiza and Intan. Of course, Jackie mused, they were the two ladies who were the hardest to understand.

Then the blind man entered. He quickly joined the conversation and he seemed very happy that the visitors were back. Liya told the story of Noah. They listened and when she was done, she asked them, "What was the most interesting thing about the story?"

This made for lively conversation. As people came and went, Jackie and Liya visited with different adults. They met a family friend, the great grandmother, and several husbands. At one point one of the young moms left on a motorcycle with one of the men.

"Where are they going?" Liya asked.

"That's her husband. They are going to the hospital to visit her father-in-law. He was in an accident. He broke his jaw...and shoulder...and leg...and foot..."

Jackie lost count of the places he'd been injured as the comments went on.

Rohiza's husband had been killed in a vehicle accident. The blind man had injured his eyes as a result of a vehicle accident. Jackie wondered who else in the family had been in accidents, but she didn't really want to know, afraid of what the answer might be. Bad luck seemed to follow this family around.

At some point in the visit, Jackie asked the shirtless man about his children. He was half-watching his two little ones and half-watching the television. In fact, to keep from having to chase after his toddler, he put a pair of squeeky shoes on the little guy so he could hear how far off the front porch the little one was venturing without actually having to get up. The little boy was two years old and the little girl was a year old. Rudy and Rani were their names. The father said he wasn't working because of migraines.

"I'm stressed," he said.

"Why are you stressed?" Liya asked.

"Because of having to watch these kids," he said. "It's very hard."

"Yes, life is hard. What do you do to ease your stress? Does God help you?"

"I have to pray and do good."

"Is that what you do to go to heaven too?"

"Yes."

"What if you are very good, but sometimes you do bad?"

"You have to try to do more good."

"Did you know that you can be sure of going to heaven? God made a way so that we don't have to worry or be stressed about that. There is a way. Have you heard of Jesus?"

"No, I have not heard."

No one here has heard of Jesus. And He is the One they need the most. 

Jackie felt a strange emotion come over her. A little bit of fear...a sad fear.

What if they don't get it, Lord? What if they keep hearing it, but they don't get it? I am already starting to love this family and the thought that they could reject You is already gripping me. If they reject You, it's going to break my heart. Oh Lord, I guess Your heart is already broken over them. I'm just now growing to love them and You are already there. I don't really want to get to know them any more, Lord, because I can't bear to know them and then know what it will be like for them if they do not choose You. 

A tear. Not a physical one. Not a wet drop. But a tear nonetheless. A figurative one. It rolled down Jackie's cheek. And figuratively, she took another step forward. She knew it was dangerous. But it was already too late anyway. This family was growing on her and God was giving her love for them.

It's going to hurt, isn't it Lord? OK. I'm going to open my heart. I'm going to love them. I'm going to trust You with what comes next.

The Tarp: Part 2

continued from The Tarp

This has to come from You, Lord, because there is nothing in me that can deal with this.

Liya began to chat with Rohiza while Jackie concentrated on understanding the slurred speech coming from Rohiza's toothy (or was it toothless?) mouth. Children sporadically entered the open front door and sat, then hopped up and ran back outside to play. The teen moms came and went. One of them stayed in the room, bouncing the baby with the cleft lip in an old baby bouncer chair.

Suddenly, the back door darkened as a new figure filled the space. The lady eyed Jackie and Liya curiously as she removed her headscarf and entered the room.

"Hello. I'm Liya and this is my friend Jackie."

"I'm Intan," said the lady. She was the sister of Rohiza and, Jackie mused, had definitely inherited the same tooth problems as her older sibling.

Intan shared more about the family. Death and sickness and misfortune seemed to be the running theme, though Intan shared in a matter-of-fact tone, as if talking about the weather.

Conversation fluctuated from family woes to life in general.

"Life can be so difficult. Were you here during the tsunami?" asked Liya.

"We were in a different house back then," replied Intan. "It was a terrible time. We all thought it was the end of the world."

"Yes," Liya said. "Many people did. But, as terrible as it was, it wasn't really the end. The end hasn't come yet."

"Yes, Judgement day hasn't come yet."

"Hey, what do you think? Will you be ready on that day? Do you think you'll go to heaven?"

"If God wills."

"So, how do you know if He wills it? Are you doing things now to make sure?"

"Yes, I try to do good things."

"Oh, like helping people or being kind?"

"Yes. By telling the truth and being good."

"Oh, I see. It's hard though. It's hard to always do the right thing."

Intan laughed knowingly. "Yes, it's hard. Especially when life is hard. My husband died in an accident on his way home from work a few years ago. Now I have to help my mother and my kids and we have no way to make money. We have relatives, but they don't help us."

Rohiza returned from the kitchen. She'd quietly slipped away and now brought two small cups of rose syrup juice.

"Oh Rohiza, we didn't mean to cause you any trouble," Liya said, "And now you've brought us drinks like we are special guests, when we are the ones who asked if we could come in!"

"It's no trouble," Rohiza replied. "You are like a blessing that has come to us today."

"You know," said Liya, "we talked about the tsunami, when so many of us thought it was the end of the world. Do you know about the beginning of the world?"

"Not really," said Intan.

"Well, back when God created the world, it was beautiful and there was nothing bad and no problems..." Liya launched into the story of Adam and Eve.

Jackie listened and prayed for Rohiza and Intan. Intan was delighted to hear the story and so Liya kept going with more stories. A movement caught Jackie's eye. Behind Liya she saw the blind man's head move. He turned toward Intan so he could hear.

Oh Lord, help this man hear the stories.

Liya continued right on to the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus. The TV droned on, the teen moms came and went, children toddled by, even Rohiza fussed about the house. But Intan and the blind man continued to listen. Shower time came. Naked children running about, one of the moms walking by in a bath towel, water splashing in the background, a random man arriving home from work (perhaps one of the husbands?): Life and Bible Stories, all rolled into one.

That's how it should be Lord, shouldn't it? The Gospel is not to be secretly whispered at a set time of day and it doesn't necessarily have to be printed nice and neatly on a piece of paper and presented in a perfect way. The Bible doesn't have to be preached from the pulpit only. The Gospel can be shared with the blind, the toothless, the poor, the discouraged. It can be talked about over the crackle of the television, the yells of children, the splash of bath water, the gurgles of a baby. The stories can be told on a dirty floor to people who have never heard them. Because the Gospel is for people and that's the life of people. We are dirty, we are smelly, we are poor, we are sick, we are the very ones that You sent Your Son to die for.

"We have to go," said Liya.

"Will you come again?" asked Intan.

"You were a blessing," Rohiza said.

"Thank you for your kindess," Jackie offered.

Then Liya and Jackie stepped out of the dark house and into the sunshine of the road outside: out from under the tarp.

Thank You Lord for giving us the words to say. They heard the Truth. I wonder if they really will let us come back?

The Tarp

"May we chat with you?" Liya asked the ladies standing in the doorway. "My friend would like to practice her language." Liya motioned toward her white-skinned friend standing on the side of the road beside the small house.

"Yes," answered the mother, "come in."

Liya and Jackie slipped off their sandals at the door and entered the room. There was not a stitch of furniture in the room except for a wooden table that held an old TV. Purple and pink contact paper covered the floor and the faded pink walls were smudged with dirt. Jackie smelled a combination of urine, body odor, and dirt. She quickly decided to breathe through her mouth and not her nose. Three daughters who were in their teens or early twenties stood in the room and watched quietly as Liya, Jackie, and the mother sat on the plastic floor. Behind the mother sat a young man. He did not turn his head to greet them and the mother did not introduce him. Jackie looked at the man. He stared straight ahead, was he catatonic?

"Who is that?" asked Liya.

"That's my son," said the mother.

"What's wrong with him?"

"He was in an accident. He lost his sight."

Jackie looked from the mother to the young man. That couldn't be all that was wrong with him. He continued to stare straight ahead, ignoring the conversation about him.

The mother introduced herself as Rohiza. She and Liya began to talk, but Jackie struggled to understand them. Rohiza spoke in words slurred by her lack of teeth. The TV beside them blared a scratchy sounding soap opera that enthralled one of the teenage daughters.

Distracted, Jackie gazed around the room. At the far end was a kitchen area and there were what appeared to be two bedrooms with stacks of mattresses. Jackie guessed that Rohiza and her children brought the mattresses to the living room when it was time to sleep. But Rohiza was not only a mother to these girls. She was a grandmother.

Jackie watched as one of the teenage girls brought in a baby. The tiny boy had a cleft lip.

Liya looked up from her conversation with the Rohiza. "Is the baby alright?" she asked.

"Oh yes," said Rohiza, "he is just small. When he is bigger he can have an operation to fix his lip."

Jackie doubted that a cleft lip was all that was wrong with the baby boy. She noticed that as the young mother held him, his back stiffened and his head fell back. He could not hold himself at all. Something else was wrong with him.

Jackie looked at the teen-aged girls, Rohiza's daughters. Rohiza said they were all married and already had several kids each. The young moms were nice and watched quietly, but did not seem to really engage in the conversation. Jackie looked at the strange man sitting staring straight ahead. She listened to the crackling television and the warbled words of the toothless Rohiza. Jackie smelled the stench of the house and absently rubbed her fingers across the dirty plastic paper used as flooring. And she sensed something...something spiritual. Like a tarp. Yes, it felt like a spiritual tarp.

"I'm overwhelmed, Lord. These people are totally without You Lord! I can't even think right now. Help me know what to do..."

To read the rest of the story, click HERE.

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.