Loss? Or adventure?

 

So there I sat, in a vast and parched land—the land of the Maasai—in southwestern Kenya, beside a skinny, shallow stream. (See Strengthening the sick beside streams in the desert.)

 

Dave and I were a couple of weeks into a three-month orientation course aimed at helping us adjust to and live well in Africa.

 

The place reminded me of the way God provides streams in the desert (Isaiah 35:6; 43:19). Not only had He placed me beside that stream in that desert, but He was also providing a spiritual stream in the desert of my life and that of my beloved daughter, Karen, back in the States.

 

At age twenty-one, Karen never once objected to her parents’ decision to move to Africa. We knew she had reservations and worries, but she never even hinted that she wanted us to stay home.

 

We knew she was sorting through a massive jumble of emotions. We knew she had long, difficult sessions with God, months of seeking Him, listening to Him, learning from Him, and deciding to trust Him for a future that seemed to be inevitably painful and scary.

 

Years later, she wrote about reading the Gospel of Matthew prior to our departure, and that “many of Jesus’ words were difficult, sharp, and real, and I was challenged to ask myself if I really believed them—did I take Jesus at his word? Both the difficult words and the comforting words?

 

“My parents were taking him at his word. They were throwing everything they had into his care, against common sense, outside their comfort zones.

“I had always known that no matter what, I could always go home.

 

“But where was home if my parents were in Africa?” (Click on that link.)

Karen continued:

 

“. . .  While it was still dark gray outside, I stood with my sweet Grandma Kay in the middle of the street watching my mom and dad drive away. I was so sad I hurt. My best friends, my rocks, my supports were as good as gone to the moon.

 

“It would take at best a couple weeks for a letter to get from one to the other. My parents wouldn’t have a phone, and they wouldn’t have e-mail for months. I didn’t know the next time I’d hear their voices or see their faces.

 

“I was so proud of them, though, so full of respect for their selflessness and admiration for their abandoned trust and obedience to God. And I knew that Jesus would keep His promise. I knew that my parents were giving me a great and beautiful gift in showing me again what it looked like to follow Jesus.

 

“In the months and years that followed, I missed my parents but just like God, it didn’t matter where I was compared to them, they were always available, their love and care didn’t falter.”

 

And where was home? she had asked earlier.

 

She put it this way: “Home was with them—even in letters, e-mails, brief phone calls, and summer visits [she visited us in Kenya the next summer]. God’s love and provision was steadfast and true. His word was challenge and comfort and home.

 

“My parents gave up a great deal by our common sense standards and yet, really, they gained much more and in the process allowed me the chance to do the same. What originally looked and felt like loss was a wonderful adventure—because it was with Jesus.

 

“And now, these years later, as I look back I understand that my life, too, is an adventure with God. My husband and I haven’t gone to Africa with our family, but we are on an adventure of our own with God, an adventure of trusting Him to do something that seems impossible, something that makes no sense according to common sense, and yet He’s doing it and allowing us to be a part.

 

“The example I received from God through my parents’ lives has shaped my heart and mind and I’ve no doubt that their obedience has allowed my life and my walk with God to be richer and deeper.

 

“I’ve learned I can take God at His word.

 

“I’ve learned that following Jesus hurts sometimes.

 

“I’ve learned that home isn’t a building.

 

“I’ve learned that God wants to use us in unexpected ways.

 

“And I’ve learned that what doesn’t make sense to us often does make sense to God, and if we’ll let Him, He will take us on some amazing adventures.

 

“One of God’s most precious gifts to me

has always been my parents,

and my parents’ most precious gift to me

has been their love for God.”

 

C.S. Lewis said: “Love is unselfishly choosing for another’s highest good.”

 

Looking back now, it’s easier for me to recognize that in leaving our home and family to help with Bible translation among Africans, Dave and I were choosing for “another’s highest good”—the Africans’ highest good.

 

And Karen, in letting go of her parents, was also “unselfishly choosing for another’s highest good.” Bless her dear heart.

 

When Jesus’ words are difficult, sharp, and real

 

“Love is unselfishly choosing for another’s highest good.” 

C.S. Lewis

 

Continuing from last week with our guest blogger, my precious daughter Karen:

 

I remember helping my parents pack their treasures away that summer and moving out of the house I’d grown up in.

 

I was attached to that house, to those books, and dishes, the creaks in the hallway floor, the smell of the spices in the cupboards, the view from the kitchen table of the walk outside the front door, the basketball hoop above the garage door, and the cracks in the driveway we used for the free-throw line.

 

Moving out was hard for my mom especially, although I think she tried not to show me.

 

I read the gospel of Matthew that summer and many of Jesus’ words were difficult, sharp, and real, and I was challenged to ask myself if I really believed them—did I take Jesus at his word? Both the difficult words and the comforting words?

 

My parents were taking him at his word. They were throwing everything they had into his care, against common sense, outside their comfort zones.

 

My self-centered sadness was tempered by deep admiration, and a desire to trust God and live accordingly, like they were doing. I was learning, slowly, that with my eyes on God, I could view change as adventure instead of loss.

 

That summer I accepted my first teaching job and my dad helped me find a little house to buy, both of which were equally thrilling and terrifying. The excitement of those upcoming transitions, of my entrance into the adult world, with all my optimism and 21-year-old confidence, helped some, but also made their departure more difficult. I entered these new roles without the comfort of knowing that I could fall back on my parents’ guidance and help.

 

God’s greatest gift to me had always been

the love and support of my parents.

They had been the sigh and deep breath of knowing

I had backup—they’d been there for me no matter what.

I’d always known I’d make it because,

well, because Mom and Dad were there.

My Great-grandpa Mac had assured my Grandma Kay,

“You can always come home,"

and that’s the kind of parents I had.

 

But with them in Africa, I couldn’t just make a phone call or stop by for an infusion of confidence and encouragement. I was learning that God Himself would be my support and that He was enough.

 

The night before my parents left, I remember crying. And I remember my mom crying—the only time I specifically remember her crying. Her grief was tangible. It was as if I could actually feel her heart breaking.

 

We of course had talked about our sadness, about her worries of leaving me, about the difficulties, about trusting God, but that night it was as if I couldn’t reach her. Words and hugs weren’t enough. She was isolated in her sadness, and I suppose I was too, and both of us were trying to think of the other.

 

I remember opening my Bible later and, not to overstate it, but it was like an epiphany. Words I’d read before suddenly were clear and true and alive:

 

“And everyone who has left houses

or brothers or sisters

or father or mother or children

or fields for my sake

will receive a hundred times as much

and will inherit eternal life.”

(Matthew 19:29)

 

That’s what my parents were doing. They were following Jesus. It was suddenly so beautifully clear to me that that’s what it is all about, and if we are doing that, nothing can go wrong.

 

It might not go the way we expect,

and it might hurt,

it might even break our hearts,

but we would be all right

because God was with us and we were trusting Him.

 

I remember thinking I needed to trust God for the promise in that verse, both for me and for my parents: that we would receive a hundredfold.

 

I prayed that for my mom that night. I asked God to give her a hundredfold for all her sadness, for all she was leaving behind. I remember writing the verse down to give to her. I wanted her to know that I understood, that I trusted God, that I believed Him and His promises—for myself and for her.

 

By now, friends, you understand why Karen is so dear to me and why my heart broke to leave her.

 

Come back next for Karen’s third and final post.