Friday, July 17, 2015

Where Brokenness and Joy Collide


This past week has been kind of surreal in a way. It is an interesting thing when brokenness and true joy collide. Even the skies have been dark a lot, making it all the more beautiful when the sun shines through.

This week, we have felt brokenness in a number of ways:

Death. Whether it has been death of a loved one, friend, or family member, our team this summer has felt the brokenness that death brings especially this week. Brokenness for ones left behind. The sting of death can be bitter but strangely sweet when it is a brother who is now dancing at the feet of the one his soul loves. This is where brokenness and joy have a strange collision.

Sickness. Lanie and I visited our friend Amanda again yesterday. We try to visit her at least once a week, if not more. This time we brought her some groceries, as is custom in her culture. Once again, she had had a hard day with her very sick and frail mother the day before. Our Father is sweet in his timing. Our very presence in her home blesses her and teaches us so much. However, deep brokenness is felt. She lacks the hope in Truth that we have. She is exhausted. Our heart grows to lover her more and more every time we are with her, but it is also more  broken for her each time.  This is where brokenness and joy collide. 

Lost. A third way we have really felt brokenness this week is through the burden for our friends that are lost and looking for Truth. We long so badly for our friends to share with us in our hope. The fact that they do not causes our hearts to feel deep brokenness. However, we rejoice in the hope we do have and our constant, faithful Father. This is where brokenness and joy collide.

I am challenged by the reflections of Milton Vincent:

"Like nothing else could ever do, the gospel instills in me a heart for the downcast, the poverty-stricken, and those in need of physical mercies, especially when such persons are of the household of faith.

When I see persons who are materially poor, I instantly feel a kinship with them, for they are physically what I was spiritually when my heart was closed to Christ...


The gospel reminds me daily of the spiritual poverty into which I was born and also of the staggering generosity of Christ towards me. Such reminders instill in me both a felt connection to the poor and a desire to show them the same generosity that has been lavished on me. When ministering to the poor with these motivations, I not only preach the gospel to them through word and deed, but I reenact the gospel to my own benefit as well."

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

A Song of Praise is Fitting.

"Praise the LORD! For it is good to sing praises to our God; for it is pleasant, and a song of praise is fitting."
Psalm 147:1


A song of praise is fitting.
When it has been a long day, a song of praise is fitting.
When I am not feeling up to go out and love and extend myself, a song of praise is fitting.
When my heart is missing home, a song of praise is fitting.
When I'm irritated, a song of praise is fitting.
When it rains and our plans are changed, a song of praise is fitting.
When I'm happy and full of joy, a song of praise is fitting.
When I make new refugee friends, a song of praise is fitting.
When I get invited into a new home, a song of praise is fitting.
When it is easy to sing and be thankful, a song of praise is fitting.
As I grow to love the city I have been placed in for the summer, a song of praise is fitting.


Oh what encouragement and what a challenge this Psalm brings. It brings my focus back to where it needs to be. No matter how high or how low... God is faithful, and a song of praise is fitting.


This past week, an old Iraqi woman pushed a wheelchair full of laundry by. We will call her Amanda. I smiled and noticed how beautiful she was. As she passed back by later, I offered her a cup of water. She smiled and accepted and sat down beside me. Struggling through language barriers, we made conversation. Next thing I knew, my team and I had spent three hours in her home with she and her mother.


Her mother is old and sweet and speaks no English. She is sick and forced to stay at home. She has eight children still living, but Amanda is the only one close and the only one to take care of her. She is lonely. As we left that evening, Amanda urged us to come back. Her mother kept saying something in Arabic, and Amanda told us she was saying that us being in her home made her feel like a mother again.

What a beautiful friendship we have been given, a song of praise is fitting. Please pray for us as we continue to grow our friendship and love our new friends. Pray that our love will be genuine and they would come to know truth.