Vulnerability and rejection

When moving to a new culture and a new country, missionaries pack bags with clothes and other items we want to have in our new home. Many of us don't realize that, unintentionally, we also pack invisible bags, carrying our fears, weaknesses, memories.

We arrive in a new land and we unpack our suitcases into our new homes. We are unaware that we are unpacking our psychological baggage, too.

A lot of people imagine that the hardest thing about living in another culture is adjusting to the culture itself. But after spending eight years in two different cultures other than my own, I am inclined to think the hardest thing is living with your own weaknesses in a new place, without the comforts, securities and support network you had at home. In fact, you may not be as aware of your vulnerabilities until they come into starker focus against a new backdrop.

Since we moved abroad, I have become a great deal more aware of my tendency to anxiety. One of the clues was when, after a move, I found myself staying home a lot, avoiding people, afraid of the social missteps and etiquette mistakes that I would inevitably make as I learned my way around the new culture. Many times, after an interaction, I would lay awake that night worrying endlessly about the confusing body language or the certainty I had offended by something I either said or failed to say.

As I've reflected on the reasons for such anxiety, I've concluded that it comes down to increased vulnerability. To be a missionary is to live in a greater level of vulnerability: to rejection and disapproval of others, and to the enemy, who will always oppose us when we step out in obedience to God's call.

Fear of rejection
At home, we have friends and family who are familiar and love us unconditionally. This helps us feel more confident and secure.

But, in any new place -- and especially in a new culture -- you WILL make more mistakes. You must rely on the grace and forgiveness of your new friends and acquaintances to overlook them and help you learn. This leaves you vulnerable to the possibility of rejection or disapproval.

I don't think anybody easily accepts rejection or feeling vulnerable. You are a pretty rare human, indeed, if you don't have some desire not to be rejected. But for someone with a tendency toward anxiety, this creates the perfect opportunity for the enemy to exploit a weakness. The enemy can stoke the embers of worries and concerns to a raging fire that becomes debilitating when trying to interact with new people while learning the steps of new social dances.

Fear is the root of anxiety. When I fear making cultural mistakes that might offend the very people to whom I want to be a blessing, at a deeper level it can be about fearing rejection, or losing the approval of the other. Such a fear is caused when the focus on myself is greater than my focus on serving and loving the other.

So, what does a missionary (or any believer) do when she is afraid of rejection? A missionary/believer has a choice to make: To try and protect herself from being vulnerable to rejection, or to embrace that vulnerability -- and that possibility. She must look to the God she has followed to this new place and learn His attitude about rejection.

The God who became vulnerable
That one's easy. God -- as Jesus, in the power of the Holy Spirit -- loved us so much that He made Himself vulnerable by becoming a weak human to walk among us. He became God "with skin on" so that He could invite us into a loving, mutual relationship with Him. And what happened when He did that?

In the very fact that God does not force us to accept His invitation, He gives us the choice to say no; to walk away from Him. When we make that choice, we reject Him. And God is hurt. He suffers when we reject Him.

Somehow, the God who created all of the universe, from the largest spinning galaxy to the invisibly microscopic electron, made Himself vulnerable to human rejection -- a rejection that culminated in the murder of the God-man, Jesus, at the hands of His own creation.

Talk about rejection!

And yet, the invitation has been continuous since creation. God continues to issue this invitation to each person, opening Himself to and experiencing the agonizing pain of rejection billions of times over.

In light of this example, how could I continue to try and protect myself from rejection by withdrawing from or avoiding interactions and the uncertainty of new friendships in a new place?

His power is perfect in my weakness
Yes, I will make mistakes. I will unintentionally offend. I will get tired and stressed out and say or do the wrong thing in a moment of exasperation. I will be weak and vulnerable, because the power is in the hands of the other to decide whether or not to forgive and overlook; whether or not to extend grace.

Paul writes: "But [God] said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me" (2 Cor. 12:9).

I love this verse. It means we can embrace rather than fear this sense of weakness and vulnerability. God promises that our weakness is the perfect context in which His power and grace flourishes. We learn to depend more on God in each vulnerable circumstance.

It seems an appropriate Christmas reflection to remember that God was born in the form of a weak and vulnerable child, and grew up to become a man who was rejected by the very people He tried to reach. This rejection went as far as murder. Yet, that was not the end. Jesus was raised, and death did not defeat or diminish His love and mercy. He continues to reach out to us every day. We can spurn this and reject Him, or we can accept this amazing invitation.

Part of following such a God, wherever we are, is living a life of vulnerability with the possibility of rejection. But it's not about us. It's about sharing Christ with others, even if they reject us -- and Him.

"That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong" (2 Cor. 12:10).

What does my PhD have to do with mission?

Academic Research and Mission

Now that it's the end of my third year of PhD work, I am seeing a little bit of light at the end of the tunnel. My research is developing very well in terms of making what I believe is a solid contribution to knowledge. I'm in the process of arguing for three 'doctrines of power', or general assumptions, guiding Constantine's use of imperial power in the internal church affairs of schism and heresy. My method for engaging with this question is to analyse specific language patterns in the surviving letters of Constantine concerning his involvement with the churches in order to more clearly define how and why the emperor did what he did in relation to divisions among Christians. 

What does it have to do with mission work in general, or our experiences over the past several years as many of you have followed, supported, and prayed for us? 

Statue of Constantine, York Minster (UK)

The reign of the Roman emperor Constantine is generally remembered by many modern Christians as a 'marriage of church and state' and, for some, this even involves a 'fall of the church'. I believe these assumptions are inaccurate historically, and potentially harmful in terms of faith and theology. One basic question I frequently ask is: if the Gospel is indeed for all people, then must it not embrace a Constantine just as surely as the poor and powerless? 

Aside from that, I think of the following: 

• Our churches and individual missionaries must work within a variety of political systems, not all of which allow for some of the freedoms of a truly democratic nation. We must both obey the law, and pursue God's mission; that requires knowledge and wisdom. The right, ethical, and legal thing to do is not always so clear in every case: how do we as Christians in different nations and systems operate both faithfully and in respect of the rule of law?
  
• The 'separation of church and state' as it developed in the United States is quite distinct from the 'state church' system found in Europe and the UK. Other areas exist where there is not the same distinction between categories of 'political' and 'religious' at all. It's important to understand this context wherever we find ourselves serving.
  
• Our churches in Western countries find themselves very divided over political ideology. Those on either 'side' politically frequently wonder out loud how someone can be a Christian and support Brexit, or Hillary Clinton, higher taxes, or cutting programs for the poor. Division is what happens when some kind of idol replaces right worship. But when people can't agree, should they be made to? Should legislation enforce morality? To what extent should Christians be politically active?

Those are just some of the things my research continually brings up in my mind, even while not all of them will be directly engaged in the final product.

Over this next year, I will soon (Lord-willing and brain/energy-permitting) complete a first draft of the entire thesis as well as undergo the revision process before final submission. My deadline is 31 October 2018, after which there will be an oral defense (called a 'viva' here). There will likely be a further period of making any requested revisions or corrections as a result of that examination. Graduation itself will follow in October 2019.

There is a lot of work left, but I sense that it has begun to 'wrap up'. I've learned so much more than will ever be written in 80,000 words. I've also learned that there's so much MORE to learn, and I'm truly excited about pursuing further study and research in the future. 

An Average Day for Andrew

But studying is far from all I'm doing.

Last year, largely due to a heavy load of responsibilities related to being a Resident Assistant in the dorm, I did not have the time to accept a couple of teaching opportunities.

This term, however, I am able to make up for some of that loss. I have served throughout my time in Manchester as the Postgraduate Assistant in Church History and Theology. It's basically what you'd call a 'teaching assistant', and I work with two different lecturers. There has been some 'grunt work' involved, such as scanning or photocopying assigned readings and organizing several lists of books ordered by both departments. But there are also some more enjoyable opportunities, like grading exams or essays and teaching in the classroom for a session or two. 

I've actually been quite busy as postgrad assistant this semester. I've even enjoyed some of the 'grunt work' as it has allowed me an occasional break from the rigors of research and writing. At the end of October, I taught a session on the Council of Nicaea (A.D. 325) from a theological perspective in a course called Christian Doctrines. In mid-November, I taught a further class session on Constantine, the Council of Nicaea, and 'Church/State Issues' from a historical viewpoint in a class called The Early Church. I've also led a small discussion group each Tuesday morning as part of an Intro to Theology class, which probably deserves a separate entry on its own to tell you about. Stay tuned on that one.

Through parts of the Christmas holiday, I will be grading essays and exams in Early Church while 'moderating' work in Christian Doctrines. 'Moderating' basically means that someone serves as an impartial second set of eyes to ensure that the actual grading (or 'marking' as it's called here) is fair and aligns with the course objectives outlined in the syllabus. 

These are some of the responsibilities of a PhD student aside from research and writing for the thesis. In fact, it often feels like work on my thesis happens in my spare time! There are conferences and seminars to attend, papers to write either for presentation or publication, revising everything that gets written down at least 3-4 times (chapters get revised about 20 times before I even hand them in!), occasional meetings with my advisor(s), keeping up with current trends related to my area of research (more reading), keeping up with language study as much as possible, and then doing what can be done as far as gaining valuable work experience (serving as postgrad assistant, for example). 

There is even more to it than that (such as the extensive preparation involved with teaching a single session!), but there's no need to go into excruciating detail. Your prayers are certainly asked for and appreciated as I re-double my efforts to finish with excellence and in a timely manner, while balancing it with supporting Gina, getting enough rest and maintaining my health, and enjoying a few good friendships. -- Andrew

My social media pledge

I wrote this today. I'm sharing it with trembling and fear, because I worry I won't live up to it. Christ have mercy.

Anyone want to join me? (I have a feeling this means I will talk and write a LOT less.)

Social Media Pledge

As a follower of Jesus Christ, I will pledge in my social media interactions (and in all my other interactions) to:

1. Ensure that I speak only when I am certain my motives and statements are rooted in Christ’s love.

• If I speak in the tongues[a] of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal (1 Corinthians 13:1)
• By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." (John 13:35)
• Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. (1 Corinthians 13:4-6)

2. Speak to and about others on social media the way I would like them to speak to and about me.

• Do to no one what you yourself dislike. (Tobit 4:15)
• Do to others as you would have them do to you. (Luke 6:31)

3. Ensure all my comments and statements are “only what is helpful for building others up” and “may benefit those who listen.”

• Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. (Ephesians 4:29)

4. TRULY listen and try to understand the other’s ACTUAL point of view before responding, asking questions for clarification when necessary, rather than ascribing to them an idea or belief (usually negative) they may not really hold.

•  My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, (James 1:19)

5. Prayerfully consider my words before I speak, and avoid speaking out of anger or hurt.

• My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, (James 1:19)

6. Avoid engaging in silly or pointless debate, and keep my focus on what is important.

• Do not answer a fool according to his folly, or you yourself will be just like him. (Proverbs 26:4)

7. Be a blessing to everyone, as much as I am able.

8. Diligently check my facts, find out the source of stories, news and rumors before commenting or sharing them, and ensure the source is legitimate before sharing or commenting.

•  Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord, but those who act faithfully are his delight. (Proverbs 12:22)

9. Avoid criticizing people on public forums, rather addressing any grievances privately.

• If your brother or sister sins, go and point out their fault, just between the two of you. If they listen to you, you have won them over. (Matthew 18:15)

10. Be quick to humbly apologize for giving offense.

• Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother or sister has something against you, 24 leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to them; then come and offer your gift. (Matthew 5:23-24)

11. Strive in the hard work of achieving forgiveness toward anyone whose comments have hurt or offended me.

• Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. (Colossians 3:13)

12. Speak to and treat others with respect and dignity – as if they themselves are Jesus – avoiding condescension, contempt, snideness or dismissiveness of their values, beliefs or feelings.

• The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ (Matthew 25:40)

-- Gina Pottenger, September 2017

A Bed Bug Parable

Female bed bug.

When you travel as much as we do, somewhere in the back of your mind you know it is inevitable that at some point you will encounter bed bugs. You hope not, but it's a very real possibility.

That day arrived for us this summer when we stayed at a hotel while on a work-related trip. The very first night in the room, as we were getting ready to turn out the light, we noticed a couple of small insects in the bed. Suspicious about this, we checked the bug in our bed against pictures of bed bugs on the Internet and there was a match.

We rushed down to hotel reception to alert them, and they quickly moved us to another room. But as we packed up to move, we noticed that numerous bugs were emerging out of the mattress and pillows right in front of us!

I know about the danger of bed bug infestations moving with travelers, so although we changed rooms, we feared that somehow a few might have gotten into our luggage during the couple of hours we had bags in that room. Or maybe that room could be infested, too. So the next day the hotel called a specially trained dog to come and check our new room and our luggage. The dog sniffed everything but did not find any bed bugs. That really put our minds at ease and so for the rest of the week we did not worry.

However, after Andrew had already returned home a few days before me, on the last morning as I was packing up to leave, I found a bed bug in the bed. This meant that all week my belongings had been in an infested room, and I had also been sleeping in an infested bed!

This meant I could not bring anything from the hotel into the building where we live until I had washed and dried everything that could be washed and dried (including myself), hand-inspected every item of which I could see every surface clearly, throw away some things, and left everything else outside until we could buy a special device that would allow us to bake these items up to 120 F degrees, including our suitcases, shoes, etc., to kill any hidden bugs or eggs, since they are insecticide resistant.

Because Andrew had returned ahead of me, before we knew that our second hotel room was also infested, he had already brought his things into our apartment. So we spent all weekend cleaning and washing and checking everything in the apartment, and had to order special linens for our bed that will guard against bed bug infestations. This process was utterly exhausting and took basically two whole days.

Soon the evidence of our stay with the bugs in the hotel was apparent, as we broke out into a delayed allergic reaction to their bites, with painful, itchy welts all over.

I am not one to see a spiritual parallel in everything, but as I had to closely examine every single item from my suitcase to look for the tiniest white eggs or bugs, wash everything in the hottest setting, and even throw away some items that couldn't be washed or examined closely enough, I started thinking about two analogies: 1. The Israelites, who were mandated by God to cleanse the promised land of every people group who worshiped any false gods so that the Israelites would not be seduced away from their relationship with God (and because they didn't, they were); 2. And the need to eradicate every speck of sin in our lives so that even the smallest sins are not able to gain a foothold and gradually infest other areas of our life with darkness.

The thing with bed bugs is you cannot let even one egg or one bug into your house. It just takes a couple of these tiny insects to infiltrate everything, from books to picture frames; they can live under the baseboards along the walls and even inside electrical outlets. The females lay 5-10 eggs a day. And worse yet, they can live up to 300 days without feeding on human blood -- the only thing they consume. So even if you quarantine an object, you basically must seal it off for an entire year to ensure any bugs inside are truly dead. The cost of cleaning and preventing an infestation is high. The cost of dealing with an entrenched infestation would be much, much higher.

I just kept thinking about how it is the same way with sin: we must examine every aspect of our lives to root out even the tiniest bits of resistance to God and seflishness, or the potential is there for these things to create a foothold and spread, entrenching themselves in our lives and making it harder and harder to allow God to cleanse us and free us from their grip.

I hope that we never have to face bed bugs again, and I hope that none of you have to, either. And I pray that in the same way, we are all able to stay vigilant about areas of our lives where we need to do some cleaning and rooting out, so we can live in the peace of Jesus.

Dreaming God's dreams

Two months ago almost from today, I was at the Dare 2 Dream conference held by the British Isles North and British Isles South districts. The weekend conference was dedicated to helping pastors and lay people alike to listen for God's dreams for their communities and nations, and then to embrace those dreams. By necessity, those dreams would be far bigger than ours, and also, in many ways, unthinkable to our limited, human minds.

Today, I am with our church leaders of the South Asia Field, and in the afternoon session we are being challenged to listen for God's dreams for South Asia and beyond. The group was asked to try to identify the unthinkable, the impossible, that God might want to do.

This stretching exercise asks believers to realize that God's mind, and also His divine resources, are more than "we can ask or imagine".

I was reminded of the story of Jesus and the feeding of the 5,000 in Mark 6. It started when Jesus and the disciples were faced with a crowd of 5,000 men, and an uncounted number of women and children, who had been listening to Jesus teach all day, and they were hungry. Jesus told the disciples: I want you to feed these people.

This was Jesus' impossible dream.

37 They said to him, “That would take more than half a year’s wages^[e]! Are we to go and spend that much on bread and give it to them to eat?”

³⁸ “How many loaves do you have?” he asked. “Go and see.”

When they found out, they said, “Five—and two fish.”

The disciples had nothing. But a child had two small loaves of bread and some fish. The fact is that the resource they brought to Jesus wasn't even theirs. And it was far too small to accomplish Jesus' dream. Yet they brought it anyway. Whether their motive was to prove their point to him, or if it was a step of faith, we don't know. Either way, this small resource, offered to solve an impossible problem, was blessed and multiplied by the divine power of the Creator of the whole universe, and not only were the 5,000 and the women and children fed, but they were fed lavishly. There were 12 whole baskets left after each person had eaten their fill.

This story is a model to us for the fact that God's dreams are not dependent on our resources. When we stare in dismay at our material lack and decide we can't do more than what we have in our hands, we are limiting God. God only asks us to dream His dream, and to participate in the ways He asks, knowing He has His own resources in mind which He plans to bring to the table.

When we dream dreams that we can accomplish in our own power, we may not be dreaming God's dream, but our own.

I am moved by how both the Nazarenes in the UK as well as the Nazarene across South Asia are spending time dedicated to asking God what His dreams are for their world, and how He wants them to participate in that, without being held back by their own limited resources.

What dream is God asking you to dream with Him for your family, your community, your local church, your workplace, your nation, your people group?

^"20 Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, ²¹ to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen." --  Ephesians 3:20-21 (NIV)

Walking with God

As an American, my life until living in Europe was oriented toward driving everywhere. I didn't live places that had extensive walking trails and as anyone who has lived in America knows, except for dense urban areas, people don't generally use their feet as a mode of transportation. It's simply not practical. Things are very far apart.

After living in Europe for seven years, I've really embraced the whole walking thing -- as both recreation and as my primary way of getting around. I love it. As a fidgety, active person who has trouble sitting still, walking not only is a pleasant way to get to the grocery store and run any number of errands, it's become a favorite way to exercise as well as to clear my head, get fresh air, and find time and space to pray and think.

Maybe this new lifestyle is why a certain phrase I kept noticing in Genesis captured my imagination in a new way: "He walked with God."

The first time it is used with an obscure character named Enoch of whom we know scarcely anything (Genesis 5:21-24). Yet, the writer says twice of him in just one paragraph, "And Enoch walked with God."

In the Flood story where the writer describes the human race as already so incredibly depraved that God actually regrets creating human kind (Genesis 6:6), one man stands out as righteous in God's eyes: Noah. The writer says, "Noah was a just man [and] perfect in his  generations, [and] Noah walked with God."

There it was again: Noah walked with God.

Then, there is Abram. I have recently come to realize what a profoundly amazing man he was. I think I lacked the proper respect for Abraham until recently. I unconsciously viewed him as a backward, uneducated, Bronze Age nomad who, yeah, gives us a good example of faithfulness and believing God's promises, but who also did some pretty dumb things that created a lot of messes God had to get him out of.

Yet, in re-reading his story this winter, I found myself humbled and even humiliated by his deep and unshakeable trust in God through decades of waiting for God's promises to be fulfilled. I was most awed by the moment when he agreed to slay his only son as a sacrifice because God commanded him to do so. His beautiful, pure faith in God in that moment far outstrips any faith I will ever have in God. And I was stunned by his seeming prophetic declaration that reached more than a thousand and five hundred years beyond him: that God would provide another sacrifice in his son's place -- a glimpse into the future when God would send His only Son as a once-for-all sacrifice to atone for the sin of all humankind (Genesis 22:8).

This simple, ancient nomad possessed a faith more deeply rooted than I'm sure I will ever have. And what rooted him in this way?

"The Lord had said to Abram, “Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you....So Abram went."

In essence, he took off on a journey with God. I think it is no coincidence that later, when they are in conversation, God says, " I am God Almighty^[a]; walk before me faithfully and be blameless.^"

The repetition of this image of "walking with God" caused me to reflect, "What does it mean to walk with God?"

"Walk" is obviously an action word. It stands in contrast to the idea of sitting quietly or passively. Walking implies that a person is moving from one position to another. Possibly a journey? It can be both an act of aimless wandering or a brisk journey to a specific, intended destination.

A few years ago when I was struggling to be faithful in Bible reading and prayer because I sat at a computer all day for my job and had zero patience left for sitting any more of the day, I began a practice of listening to a Bible reading podcast and prayer while jogging or walking for an hour. This helped tremendously with my focus and consistency of spending time with God. I would walk and listen to the Bible passages, reflect, and pray. For me, having permission to physically "walk with God" each day was incredibly refreshing.

But I think this phrase in Genesis means much more. 

Recently, I attended several lectures by the missiologist Alan Hirsch. He described the disparity between how Jesus discipled his followers in contrast with how we do so in Western civilization today. Our modern evangelical churches tend to conduct discipleship through reading and studying together, where we read books and examine ideas and discuss them. He said this model expects ideas to precede or generate behavioral change. Yet, he said, studies show that changed ideas or beliefs don't automatically lead to changed behavior, to transformation.

James 2:19: ^"You believe that there is one God. Good! Even the demons believe that -- and shudder."

The demons who believe in God certainly are not transformed.

Hirsch descibed Jesus' way of discipling: He and his disciples walked all over the place together for three years. They not only listened to his teaching, but he gave them assignments: heal people in my name; take only your cloak and staff and go from town to town teaching about the kingdom; feed the crowds. Hirsch said they actually learned by doing. Often they didn't understand what they were doing until later, sometimes much later. Their ideas and understanding and belief changed as a result of doing things first.

At one point, Jesus tells his listeners that if they want to be his disciples, they must pick up their cross and follow him. He is so often asking people to "follow me." Again, another action phrase. A challenge to walk with Jesus.

What does it mean to walk with God? It seems to be about knowing God intimately through a journey that includes action, obedience, sacrifice, faith, personal growth, asking questions, slowly developing understanding, sometimes suffering, sometimes experiencing joy.

There is nothing passive about relationship with God.

Giving our best

In Lebanon, there is not a culture of purchasing second-hand items as a cost-savings method for acquiring new-to-you clothes, shoes, furniture or household items. People want the things they own to be new, one local friend told me. So, it's actually a bit ground-breaking that our Nazarene church there has opened a second-hand store that sells clothing, shoes, bags for just a few dollars each as a way to meet the needs of the huge influx of destitute refugees who have flooded into the country from Syria, and to a lesser degree, Iraq.

I had to chance to visit the Karibe store and warehouse to see this ministry in action. The shop gives the church members a way to further support people who desperately need assistance, such as distributing big food packages to people who have registered for help.

The shop is set up in a space that was donated to them by a Catholic abbey, which had empty space available and was happy to support this work.

When we got to the warehouse areas, the church leaders showed me large boxes filled with donated clothes, toys, belts, bags, shoes and more. They were sent in huge crates from several countries in the West to help the church get Karibe started.

While I wandered through the room, shooting pictures of the items waiting to be displayed upstairs in the shop, I noticed a corduroy jacket with very visible stains on the light-colored material. I pointed this out to the volunteers.

They said, "Yes, in fact about 20 percent of what we receive in the shipments is not fit to be sold to our clients. The items are damaged, stained or not in good condition."

"Twenty percent?" I repeated, appalled.

"Yes. And we had to pay $5,000 to get the shipment through customs. And yet, we cannot use up to 20 percent of it, maybe more," I was told.

One of the women showed me a pair of shoes of which the leather exterior was peeling horribly.

Although I had not personally participated in the donations of these items, I felt embarrassed. I imagine that further back in the past I may have donated items I would not be proud to find in these boxes today. (Wasn't it the same thing all those times when I cleaned out food from my cupboards that I didn't want, like canned peas and kidney beans, and put them in the food drive box at church -- mainly as a way to just get rid of them? I didn't spend time thinking about who would receive them and if they'd want to eat them any more than I did.)

Looking at these ruined clothes, I tried to assume the best. Perhaps there was a mistake somewhere in collecting these items, or those who packed up the shipments didn't have time to carefully sort through before sending them on. But I thought about the $5,000 that the church had to pay to get the clothes out of customs, and how much of that money was essentially wasted on worthless clothing.

I've been reading the Old Testament lately, specifically Genesis, Exodus, and I'm about to head into Leviticus. There are many laws set down by God that clearly illustrate his high standards. In every facet of life, he gives us his best first, and he expects from us our very best in return.

When he asked his people for sacrifices, he expected them to give every firstborn animal of their livestock, as well as the first fruits of all their harvests. Every animal sacrifice thereafter should be without blemish. It should be healthy, whole, and perfect. People weren't going to get away with giving him their cast offs -- animals or crops that they would be happy to do away with while keeping the best for themselves. He gave them his best and he wanted them to give their best in return. Centuries later, he gave all of us his best: his Son.

As we share with others, we follow this same standard when we give items we ourselves would be proud to wear, or use, or decorate with. A rule I've heard for donating tangible items is: If YOU wouldn't use it, don't donate it.

Thanks to the many nice items that have been donated, this church in Beirut has a large shop space filled with very good, gently used clothing and shoes for adults and children. I even saw a beautiful wedding dress. Through this ministry they are making face-to-face contact with people and starting to establish relationships that will allow for more service to them in the future, and hopefully life-transforming journeying together in the hard road of life. Some will come to know Jesus personally and join a supporting, loving church family.

This is what comes when a church gives its best to its community.

Spring

Autumn is my favorite season. As someone who has not much interest in flowers and plants, I have traditionally had little use for spring. But I've welcomed spring with a new joy in the past few years, and it's not just because the winters are incredibly long in northern Europe.

Several years ago, when we lived in Germany, the country's meteorologists reported that due to historically rainy weather patterns, they had recorded the darkest winter since they'd been keeping such measures of sunlight. As someone who is afflicted with mild seasonal depression when I lack consistent exposure to sunshine, this made for an awful winter. It was unfortunate that at the same time, I was using a new migraine-prevention medication that I did not realize had depression as a side effect.

For the first time in my life, I experienced what clinical depression feels like. Since I didn't realize it was medication-related, or that the winter was going to have much less sunlight that usual, I had no idea why I was depressed or if it would ever end. My only desire each day was to go to bed and stay there. I longed to simply be unconscious. I had no pleasure in anything (except eating sugar and, thankfully, running/walking).

I struggled to go to work, and to think clearly about my tasks, and to concentrate long enough to complete them. All day I thought about my bed, and each night I went to bed earlier and earlier, because there was nothing I was interested in doing except sleeping.

In March, we traveled to Colorado where we planned to spend two months on a speaking tour in churches. I eagerly looked forward to being in my home state, which boasts 300 days of sunshine a year. I also had learned about my medication-complication and adjusted that accordingly.

However, spring had not yet come to Colorado Springs when we arrived. Having been gone more than 18 months, I had forgotten how brown and dry and desert-like the city is in winter. There was no color anywhere. It was so ugly and depressing.

I was walking one day, in early April, in my parents' neighborhood, praying to God about my depression and longing for some kind of change. I noticed that buds were starting to appear on the trees and bushes. The brown branches were becoming a bright green. Flowers were poking up from the soil in people's yards. Everywhere, I saw the signs of life and spring. As clear as if someone were standing next to me, I heard the words in my mind, "I can do the same for you."

I knew in that instant that God had spoken to me, and He was giving me a promise that this difficult season in my life would pass, and I would experience new life. I was filled with awe and wonder at this very unusually clear message from God. His voice to me is often much more subtle.

I clung onto that promise for weeks until my depression ended. And I continue to remember that encounter with the living God who sometimes, for His own wise and good reasons, allows suffering, yet promises and gives new life, new creation, in His own perfect timing.

I also take comfort in the fact that our God is a God who has chosen to suffer, to experience hurt and heartache and loss and grief because He chooses to be in relationship with fallen humans who continually hurt and reject Him. And thus, he suffers with us when we suffer, and does not leave us. When I suffer, I realize I am not suffering alone. I know that going through that winter of depression has made me a more empathetic person, and also has helped me learn a bit better how to face and push through suffering, rather than try to run away from the pain or ignore it.

As the trees and flowers are again blooming here in Manchester after another long, sometimes dreary winter, I am reminded of that day in Colorado when God spoke His promise to me, and delivered. I know I can trust God, and I know He is with me.

-- Gina

Aisha's story

A few weeks ago, Andrew and I traveled to the Middle East to visit local Nazarene leaders, hear their stories, and also offer a short writing training. During our visit, I visited several refugees. Here is my account of one of the stories I heard.

Aisha* is a Syrian refugee who has invited me to her home to hear her story. I have no idea of the dramatic escape and near-death experiences she and her husband are about to tell me.

She is a smiling, plump woman with a friendly, round face wrapped in a dark grey head scarf. As we walk to her neighborhood, our friend Manila*, who will interpret the interview, says, “We’re going into a (slum) area, so don’t take any pictures until we are inside her house.”

We dodge passing vehicles and weave through double-parked cars along the curbs. Manila tells me that these slums are home to a mixture of many different nationalities, Egyptians, Syrians, Armenians, Iraqis and Lebanese. They are all poor, and the impoverished area has the expected amount of crime. The road is broken asphalt, covered in fine, white dust. Someone has put the remnants of an old Turkish rug into a pothole to soften its impact. The streets are closely crowded in by tall apartment buildings, with businesses on the ground floors. Electrical cables stretch chaotically from building to building. Here and there a large cross is suspended among them. It’s a busy Friday afternoon, and many people are out shopping or selling.

I ask Aisha where she comes from in Syria. She answers in Arabic: the countryside, near a large city.

“We had a very large house, very spacious, two floors, and a lot of land. We grew many things, and we had a lot of animals. In the end we even bought a camel,” Manila interprets for me. “Two days ago friends sent us pictures of our house, and it’s all destroyed. Everything is gone.” She says this matter-of-factly. “It’s nothing, all the wealth of Syria is nothing compared to finding Jesus here in Lebanon.”

Tears spring to my eyes.

“Now I am faithfully following Jesus,” she adds.
 
We turn off the sidewalk as Aisha opens a door in the wall between shops. We go up a flight of tiled, dirty stairs. In Aisha’s first floor apartment, we come through a narrow passageway, almost too tight for me with my backpack, into the one main room that she shares with the 10 other people in her family.

The square room, with unnecessarily high ceilings and scuffed walls, is encircled on the floor with three twin mattresses and a futon. A window in the wall is marred by a web of cracks radiating out from a central punched-in spot.

A large, round man, wearing a black track suit, is lying on his side on one of the mattresses. Two small children – a boy and a girl – are on another mattress, engrossed in smart phones. Smiling, the man, her husband Amir*, stands up to shake our hands and welcome us. They gesture for us to sit on the futon.

I realize that all 11 of them sleep and live in this room. I think about the contrast between the large farm they left behind, their two-story house, and now they’re living in this city slum, crammed into one room. I can’t imagine how difficult the transition has been for them.
 
After we are all seated and comfortable, Manila tells them why we want to hear their story and asks if they have any security concerns. They only don’t want their photo taken, “because we will get killed,” Amir says.

“Our life in Syria was beautiful, simple,” Aisha begins. “We had a farm with all types of animals, a two-story house. It was on nine acres – 9,000 square meters. The house, on its own, was 1,000 square meters. The land, we inherited from our parents and grandparents, but the house we built. We built it when I was pregnant with Farah* (who is now 14 years old).”

“At the beginning of the war, someone offered us $400,000 for the house and land, but we said no because we didn’t think we would leave the house. We didn’t want to sell,” Amir says. “When the planes started to bomb, we just left. We didn’t take anything with us, neither the house or car, not even one cup of tea. We took nothing.”

They had a second house some distance away and so they fled with their children there. They lived there for a year and a half, but Amir said it was like being “primitive people.” They couldn’t use their electricity, because if they turned on lights at night, planes would bomb the house. They had an electric pump for their water well, but couldn’t use it. So they lowered pails into the 60-foot well and raised them up by hand.

“We wanted to be warm. We would find anything: plastic bags, old wheels and put it in a tin and burn it to be warm. So life was a daily struggle.”

After 18 months like this, the war moved into their area, so they decided to run to Lebanon.

It was 7 a.m. They hired a taxi for $5,000 to carry their large family to the border of Lebanon. All along the road, there were military checkpoints controlled by different warring factions, or by the government army.

“I was crying all the way, covering my eyes, saying, ‘Oh Lord, oh Lord, if we pass an opposition checkpoint, he could say, ‘take one of the girls,’” Aisha says, covering her face at the memory.

According to the couple, it seems that militants were said to claim girls and young women as they tried to pass through the checkpoints.

“I was afraid for my daughters,” Amir said.

At one checkpoint, a guard was examining their identity cards and then said he wanted to see their 12-year-old girl. “Her picture looks older,” the guard said. “She doesn’t look 12.” While he studied her ID, another soldier came to the car and tried to goad Aisha and the other family members into saying something against the government, perhaps as a pretext to arrest them. The family refused to answer.

Fortunately, the soldiers let them go, and the family passed through many more checkpoints, the taxi driver going as fast as he could. They traveled 14 hours to the northern Lebanese border.

“I was so relieved when we reached the border,” she said.

However, at the border, the Lebanese soldiers tried to turn them away, although Amir said they had been invited by family who were already in Lebanon. 

“Where will [they] put you, 12 people?” the guard asked. “You can’t enter.”

Yet, the guard continued looking at the names on the list of family members. He stopped when he read the name, “Issa,” which is the Arabic name for Jesus. “Who is ‘Issa’?” the guard asked.

They showed him the young boy. The guard then said, “For his sake, I’m going to let you in.”

They were finally out of Syria. But the worst was not yet over. Fighting had broken out in the Lebanese northern city of Tripoli, which they had to pass by to get to Beirut, further south.

“This happens sometimes, in Tripoli,” Manila explain.

The traffic was bad because everyone in the area was trying to escape the fighting. Many roads were closed. Their youngest child, a 6-month-old boy, began vomiting.

“We hadn’t eaten anything that day, the driver was going very fast to escape the armies,” Amir says. “And then we came and there was also fighting in Lebanon. I thought, ‘We won’t make it through this day alive.’”

The taxi driver tried to take the road that hugs the coast along the Mediterranean Sea, south toward Beirut, but now it was 9 p.m. and everything was dark. He got lost and somehow wandered into a Lebanese army checkpoint. Amir says he thought the army was about to shoot them because they were trespassing into army controlled territory. But the driver frantically explained they were refugees trying to get to Beirut, so the soldiers redirected them and the family reached Beirut at 3 a.m.

Aisha takes up the story. “We came to my sister’s house [in Beirut]. She has five boys, so there are seven people in her house. And we were 12. We were too many people in the house for a long time.”

Her sister, Yasmin*, had reached Lebanon just four months before. Yasmin's husband, who had gone ahead of his wife and children to Lebanon, ended up abandoning them for a woman he met in Lebanon. Yasmin came alone, afterward, with the boys and has been raising them as a single parent since.

For one year the two families were crammed into a one-room apartment, about the same size as the one we are now sitting in. They divided the room, so each family had half. 

That was three and a half years ago, in 2013.

Yasmin was struggling to care for her five sons. When she heard that an evangelical center run by the Baptist church was distributing food packages to refugees, she went to receive one. Aisha went with her. While there, some of the people said, “We want to pray for you.”

Aisha was surprised. “I know how to pray, I don’t need you to pray for me,” she told them. “I’ve come for the food.”

But Aisha became curious about these Christians.

“I would like to know how these people pray, how they act,” she thought to herself. “Also, my husband was sick and wasn’t able to work. I needed help.”

So, she began to visit the center every Saturday. There she met Jabir*, the Nazarene pastor of a Syrian congregation that has been formed near Aisha’s neighborhood. She saw that there was a women’s group that would meet and pray for each other, and talk about their experiences of how God was answering their prayers.

“I became curious to know who is this Jesus? What are these women doing?”

Aisha attended regularly and asked many questions. “Why do they say we need faith in Jesus even if we do good works? Are good works not enough to save us?”

Amir was concerned about his wife’s visits to the group. But he didn’t forbid her, and Aisha enjoyed the meetings, so she kept going. Encouraged by the other women, she also began reading the Bible and prayed with them. Eventually, Amir also trusted the group and Pastor Jabir.

During this time, Amir became more and more ill. He says that doctors told him blood was disappearing from his body. Manila and I aren’t clear on what he means, but we think he was having internal hemorrhaging.  The hospital had run tests on him, and when Aisha returned to find out the results of his tests, the doctor asked, “Where is your husband now?” She said he was at work. The doctor said, “How can he be at work? He should be on a bed, dying.”

Until then, Amir was still getting around, but he would become so weary after walking just 50 meters he would be forced to sit and rest. He was always exhausted. The doctors urged him to the emergency room, where the staff gave him blood transfusions. But he kept mysteriously losing blood, although there was no obvious blood loss that anyone could see.

Aisha continued meeting with the believers, although she herself did not yet believe. “I would tell them, please pray for my husband. I was asking all the Christians to pray for my husband.”

When Amir seemed at the point of death, he was rushed to the hospital, and given four pints of blood. But now his body was refusing the blood. The doctors decided to insert a scope into his abdomen to look for internal hemorrhaging, suspecting that Amir had some type of cancer.

Aisha sat outside her husband’s room and began praying, her faith in God strengthened by meeting with the believing women and Pastor Jabir.

“I forgot everyone around me, I was praying, ‘Lord, they say cancer. I believe your word and I know you’re stronger than this and I trust in you.”

Amir says that at this same time, “I was lying there, and the doctor was looking at the test results and rubbing his eyes. I thought, ‘That’s it, I’m a goner.’ Then the doctor said, ‘What type of human are you?’” Amir asked, “What do you mean?” The doctor replied, “It’s as if someone has taken all the old stuff in your body and made everything brand new. It’s as if you just exited the manufacturer. The picture shows there’s nothing wrong with you.”

The doctors decided to test Amir’s bone marrow to look for other diseases, such as a blood disease. The test would cost $600. They didn’t have $600. They could go to an alternative clinic where the procedure would cost $300. They didn’t have that, either. So the doctor told Aisha to take her husband home. “Create a nice, romantic atmosphere for him,” he told her. “In two to three days he’s going to die.”

“I brought him home. I was depressed, I felt like I was choking. There was no solution,” she says.  She was a young woman, only in her 30s, with nine children. She was also a destitute foreigner, and now she would lose her husband.

Aisha went to the evangelical center to see Jabir. She told him that the doctors had lost hope.

Jabir said, “Do you trust God can heal him? Let’s pray for this.”

“I was choking,” Aisha recalled. “The words of the doctor were ringing in my ear, saying, ‘Take him home. There’s no hope left for him.”

Then, a man came and took Amir back to the hospital, giving the $300 for the bone marrow test. It was so painful that Amir filled the room with his screaming. For 15 days he waited at home for the test results and ate nothing. The test result wasn’t even expected back before 21 days and everyone thought he would die before then.

“I sat by my husband at home and told him not to give up hope,” Aisha says.

Jabir came many times to visit.  He asked Amir, “Do you believe in the Lord?” Amir answered, “Of course I believe.” Then Jabir told Amir about Issa and how He saves. “I thought about this, and thought it makes sense,” Amir says.

Aisha continues: “Jabir told me we should pray. Up until then, I would go to the meetings, but I wasn’t a believer. Now, I knelt down and prayed the salvation prayer. I said to Jesus, ‘I accept you into my life. I give you my life and my husband’s life.’ I felt my husband was also giving his life to Jesus.’ When we gave our lives to Jesus, Jesus gave His blood to Amir.”

In a few days, he began to feel better. When the results of the test came back, the doctors reported that they found nothing wrong with him. Baffled and intrigued, the doctor asked if he could do another bone marrow test for his own satisfaction, and would pay for it himself.  Tired of the tests and experiments, Amir refused, and yet he continued to recover and was fully and inexplicably healed.

I remember their story about how the guard let them into Lebanon because they had a son named Issa. I ask them, “If you didn’t believe in Issa before, why did you name your child this?”

“It’s like God chose this name,” Amir answers. Before Issa was born, Aisha had given birth to a son, followed by five girls.

“We were sitting and we were reading … at home. My [oldest] son said, ‘I need to go to sleep now.’ He fell asleep, then woke up in the morning and came to us and said, ‘Mom’s going to have a baby and you should call him Issa.’ I said, ‘Your mother only gets girls, it seems.’

Their son replied, “I had a dream where a guy wearing a white robe came to me. I asked my grandpa, ‘Is this Moses?’ He said, ‘No, it’s Lord Issa.’ And then Issa touched my shoulder. I felt a burst of colors, like a rainbow.”

Later, when Aisha became pregnant, she gave birth to a boy. So the parents named him Issa.

“We believe Issa will come at the end of days and be the judge of the earth. We didn’t know we need to believe in Him now so that when He comes as a judge, He will take us with Him,” Aisha says. “Now we know that He came for us and was crucified for us. We believe that through the blood of Christ, we can be covered. And we know that our eternity was not secure before. Even if we did good deeds, we didn’t know if we will go to heaven or hell. But now, through our faith in Christ and believing His word, we know that we have eternal life. We have a weapon we hold and He protects us from all evil.

“I don’t mind that we lost all our wealth. We found Jesus, which is priceless.”

Aisha and Amir say that it’s not even enough to know Jesus themselves. They feel compelled to share this with others who don’t know Him. She has begun serving with Pastor Jabir in the church he has organized out of refugees who have also decided to follow Christ.

“Once, when we had a big meeting at church, I went up and shared my testimony and said, ‘Me and my family, we want to serve the Lord,’” Aisha says. “And now I’ve been for a while sharing Christ with others, talking about Christ. I want to tell people about Christ, not just know Him personally.

“Two days ago I saw the pictures of the buildings which are broken down [their houses]. Although we were sad because we lost our houses, we thank God, because He has have given me back what I have I lost, repaid me with His Word, with God’s Word. God has repaid us of all the riches in Syria, all our treasures in Syria, He has repaid us with His Word, and God’s always with us, whenever we need anything. God is with us.”

*Names and specific details omitted for security