Sometimes the pain seemed almost more than I could bear

 

During our three-month orientation course, if our staff drove to Nairobi for supplies they also brought back mail. Everything halted when mail arrived. One day we received a letter from our son Matt, age 23. He had written it on May 17, almost three months before Dave and I left the States. He didn’t mail it, though, until we got to Africa.  

 

I can honestly say now that I am very excited that you are going to Africa. Knowing that my parents are passionately doing God’s work not only gives me tremendous peace of mind, but it also provides an inestimable amount of motivation, courage, and drive to do so, myself, in whatever God has planned. I just can’t tell you how excited I am about it now. I will surely miss seeing you, but now I feel like our relationship supersedes life as most people on earth know it. If I never see you again on this earth, it matters very little to me, and I sense that it means little to you, too. Of course, that sounds worse than it is. I love being with you and I eagerly anticipate many more earthly adventures together with you. But on the scope of eternity, if for some reason we never are together again, big deal, because we’re just passing through this place, dedicated to a common holy purpose, heading for the same destination where we can spend eternity. Does that make any sense? Well, whether it does or not, it has given me a lot of peace and real excitement to see you on your way.

 

He set that letter aside for more than three months and resumed writing on August 31:

 

All of that courageous rhetoric is the way I feel when I’m feeling brave. Sometimes though, I feel like screaming as loudly as I can, “I want my mommy and my daddy!” I really miss knowing where you are and what you’re doing each day. That will take some getting used to.

 

Those words cut me to the heart. I’ll never forget them.

 

We also got a letter from our daughter Karen, who had turned 22 only days before. She was busy in Port Angeles as a middle school English teacher and Young Life Leader. She wrote:

 

Oh, my sweet parents, my friends, I got another postcard from you yesterday. It made me cry. I love you so much. I think of and pray for you every day. I worry about you. I do little things and think, “Oh! That sounds just like Mom,” or “That’s exactly what Dad would’ve said or done.”

 

My heart ached for my son and daughter. Sometimes the pain seemed almost more than I could bear.

 

When that happened, I took a mini-break and spent time alone with God.

 

I hoped and prayed that my children’s struggles would make them stronger and better, not break them. I wanted to ask God to prevent their difficulties but, instead, I asked Him to help them succeed within their difficulties.

 

In Psalm 138:8, David said he knew the Lord would fulfill His purposes for him, and those words gave me hope that God would fulfill His good purposes for my children.

 

I reminded myself that Christ, at the right hand of God, intercedes for each of us.

 

The Bible says we can give all our worries and anxieties to God because He cares about us (1 Peter 5:7 and Psalm 55:22).

 

The Bible also says “Don’t be . . . worried about a thing. Be saturated in prayer throughout each day, offering your faith-filled requests before God with overflowing gratitude. Tell him every detail of your life, then God’s wonderful peace that transcends human understanding, will guard your heart and mind. . . .” (Philippians 4:6-7, The Passion Translation)

 

Trusting God to care for my kids

was the only way I could cope sometimes.

My requests were not always “faith-filled.”

Often “overflowing gratitude” eluded me.

And sometimes His peace

seemed to be beyond my grasp,

but God did guard my heart and mind.

I chose to believe that God was working out

good things for my children

and growing them in their faith.

 

And so, life went on.

In ways I’ll never fully know,

God helped me, and my kids,

moment by moment, step by step. 

(From Chapter 2, Grandma’s Letters from Africa)

 

Reaching out to grab the impossible

 

Moving to Africa and leaving my kids, Matt and Karen, hurt more than anything I’d ever experienced.

 

Everything within me cried out that my children still needed their parents. I recognized they didn’t need us the way they did when they were little, but I believed they needed our behind-the-scenes support to transition out of the world of college and into the world of professionals.

 

However, my husband, Dave, didn’t understand my thinking. He pointed out that by the time we’d leave, Matt and Karen would have graduated from college, and that Matt didn’t need us because he had already married Jill.

 

Yes, Matt and Jill had each other, their own support system, but Karen was alone, and by the time we’d leave for Africa, she’d be only weeks out of college and transitioning into her professional career. It would be a crucial time in her life. My heart cried out: “We need to help her settle into a new job in a different town and a different state!”

 

I also knew that if joining Wycliffe was not God’s plan for us, He had power enough to prevent it. I gave Him every opportunity to show us green lights and send us to Africa or red lights and keep us home. In the meantime, I kept taking the next step, and the next, all the while watching for God’s answer.

 

He gave us only green lights. He gave us only open doors.

 

I had my answer.

 

I could almost hear God whisper, “Now, about your children—don’t you know I love them even more than you do? You can trust Me with them.”

 

Knowing God’s answer didn’t take away the pain, but my heart melted when He asked me to believe He loved Matt and Karen even more than I loved them.

 

I could do only two things: trust Him to manage their consequences because of our move to Africa, and then turn and take an extreme, and blind, leap of faith.

 

"Christ wants not nibblers of the possible,” wrote C.T. Studd, “but grabbers of the impossible."

 

God was asking me to be a grabber

of what seemed utterly impossible.

Unthinkable.

 

And so it was that on July 3, 1993, we moved out of our home of fourteen years. We could call no other place “home” as much as that one. Karen and I shed tears when we pulled the door closed for the last time on our empty house.

 

Dave and I were on our way to Nairobi, Kenya.

 

Do we even want to live out God’s purposes for our lives?

You might think I’m strange, but one of my all-time favorite Bible verses is Acts 13:36 (NIV), “Now when David had served God’s purpose in his own generation, he fell asleep [he died]; he was buried with his ancestors and his body decayed.”  

Why do I love that verse? Because David must have died in peace. He must have died a fulfilled man. David died with the satisfaction that he had served God’s purposes for his own generation—that is, for his lifetime, for his time on earth.

When my time comes to die, oh, how I long to know I served God’s purposes for my generation!

But there’s a tug and pull to that, a back and forth to that.

Remember what I told you last week? I was afraid I couldn’t trust God enough to take a wild-eyed, stomach-cramping, howling leap of faith and give up a steady income and good health insurance and, instead, live on a small and unpredictable missionary income.

 

Mt. Kilimanjaro; Linda K. Thomas photo

And yet, could it be that if I refused to trust God to meet our needs, and if that led me to decide not to go to Africa—might I fail to serve God’s purposes for my life?

I admit to having a weak faith. I admit to doubting God’s love and power and provisions. But my heart also soars when He reminds me how faithful He has been in the past.

I am a slow learner, but over the years,

I’ve come to believe that

one key to being willing

to trust God is this:

We must remember

God’s faithfulness

and help in the past.

When I remembered God’s specific help

to my husband and me fifteen years earlier—

when we had a financial crisis on the mission field—

I grew more willing to trust Him

for our future financial needs in Africa.

(If you missed last week’s post, click on

The Power of Remembering.)

I confess I have lived in far-from-perfect ways. Besides doubting God’s care, I’ve made selfish choices, spoken hurtful words, failed to act with love and generosity, and on and on and on. But somehow—by God’s mindboggling grace—He cleans us up, and—mindboggling again—He invites us to pursue the unique purposes He created each of us to fulfill.

“I do not at all understand the mystery of grace—

only that it meets us where we are

but does not leave us where it found us.”

Anne Lamott

Only because of God’s grace can I hope He can use me—flawed as I am—to implement the purposes He created me to fulfill for my generation.

Yes, when my time comes to die, I long to know I strived—even though imperfectly—to fulfill God’s purposes for my generation.

How about you?

If we are going to fulfill the unique purposes

God has for each of us for our generation,

what specific decisions must we make—right now?

What actions must we take—right now?

We can trust that God’s purposes for us are good.

 “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’

declares the Lord,

‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you,

plans to give you hope and a future.’”

Jeremiah 29:11, NIV

Standing at a crossroads: Could I—would I—trust God despite an unpredictable income?

I haven’t kept it a secret from you: I’ve confessed that I really didn’t want to move to Africa. And I also confess that all my reasons were worldly.

“I didn’t want to get rid of our furniture, our treasures, or possessions. I didn’t want to dismantle our home. . . . I didn’t want to say goodbye to friends. I didn’t want to leave Port Angeles, with its forests, mountains and sea. . . .” (From Chapter 2, Grandma’s Letters from Africa)

And here’s another reason: I didn’t want to give up a steady income and good health insurance.

Let me explain. Some mission agencies pay their personnel, but Wycliffe Bible Translators, like many, does not.

Instead, “faith missionaries” rely on God to pull together a team of people and churches to send donations.

Some churches and individuals promise to send money and always do, right on time.

A few promise monthly donations but send it sporadically.

Others discontinue their financial support because of a serious illness, a death, or other financial setback.

But the sad truth is this:

Some churches and individuals

promise to send money

but never follow through.

Even if all supporters send their pledged amount every month, most missionaries live near (or even below) what North Americans call the poverty level. They can set aside little, if anything, for an emergency.

In our case, if every supporter followed through every month, we’d take a 35% pay cut—we’d bring in 65% of what we were accustomed to.

And no longer would an employer contribute toward health insurance and retirement. We’d have to cover those costs out of our 65%.

Does reading such things put a knot in your stomach?

If so, perhaps you understand why I balked at turning my back on a steady income and good health insurance.

And yet, Jesus said we shouldn’t worry about what we’ll eat, drink, or wear because God knows our needs (though He’s not so concerned about our wants) and will take care of them—if we seek first His kingdom and His righteousness (see Matthew 6:24-34, NIV).

In other words, He “already knows all your needs, and he will give you all you need from day to day if you live for him and make the Kingdom of God your primary concern” (Matthew 6:32b-33, NLT).

It was a conditional promise—God would keep His part of the deal if I’d keep my part. He was simply waiting for me to make up my mind.

I stood at a crossroads.

I’d arrived at a defining moment.

My decision would change my life, no matter what I chose.

So, did I want to make God my first priority?

And could I—would I—trust God to keep His word?

Did I fear He would do an inferior job and leave me disappointed? Discontented?

Would I walk away, choosing to stick with our current job security and all its perks? Would I choose self-sufficiency?                                                                                                                     

I have a feeling God’s heart longed for me to trust Him,

to be content with whatever funds He provided.

Maybe He wondered why I couldn’t be more like Paul, who wrote:

“I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want” (Philippians 4:12).

Have you ever found yourself 

plunked down at a fork in the road?

Like me, did you wrestle with 

whether to answer God’s call 

or the world’s call?

Or maybe today you’re at a crossroads,

a life-changing intersection.

How will you decide?

What will you decide?

Playing life safe for fear God won’t live up to His end of the bargain

Pastor Sid didn’t beat around the bush. He just spoke plainly: “How daring are you?”

His words made me squirm. I don’t like taking risks. I avoid going out on a limb.

Sid was talking about The Parable of the Talents in Matthew 25:14-30 in which a master entrusted his wealth to his servants. “To one he gave five bags of gold, to another two bags, and to another one bag, each according to his ability” (verse 15, NIV). And then the master left them.

Sid was referring to stewardship. We hear that word “stewardship” a lot, but what does it mean?

Stewardship is something we manage or take care of that is not our own.

Like the guys in The Parable of the Talents, God has entrusted you and me with “talents,” things like money, time, skills, and experience. In the parable, the talents were of great value. Treasures. Blessings. Gifts.

Sid told us those “talents,” those blessings, those gifts, are not only for our own use and worldly advancement. The gifts He gave each of us are not just for our own enjoyment and material gain.

No, God’s best for us is this: That we manage our “talents” so they impact God’s work locally and around the world. That’s why He has given us all of those “talents.”

Furthermore, Sid said, the God we know in the Bible doesn’t want us to be conservative in our use of our money, time, skills, and experience.

Whoa. Read that again. God doesn't want us to be conservative in our use of money, time, skills, and experience.

Let’s get back to The Parable of the Talents. When the master returned, the five-talent and the two-talent servants had doubled their holdings.

“What did the two of them do,” Sid asked, “to double their five and two talents? They didn’t play it safe.” 

I don’t know about you but that statement, “they didn’t play it safe,” makes my stomach knot. I always want to play it safe.

Let’s look at the man with only one talent. Instead of investing it, buried it—because, he said, he was afraid.

Today we don’t dare to do great things for God, Sid said, “. . . because we fear God won’t live up to His end of the bargain.”

“. . . because we fear God won’t. . . .”

Won’t what?

Won’t give us strength and tenacity

to do hard things?

Won’t stick with us through the difficult times?

Won’t supply us with what we need along the way?

Sid said:  

The degree of safety that we invest in our lives

 indicates a lack of faith.

Gulp. Lack of faith. Being unwilling to trust God to keep the promises He’s given us in the Bible: His promises to enable us to do what He calls us to do with our talents, His promises to stick with us, to meet our needs (not necessarily wants, but needs) along the way.

It felt like Sid was pointing right at me.

He left us with questions and challenges:

Are you playing it safe with what God has given you of time, money, skills, and past experience?

How much do you trust God? Let go. Invest your “talents” in what God’s doing around the world.

Do you have God-sized dreams and investments?

Or are they too risky? Too scary?

It’s tempting, Sid said, to play it safe and take it easy. He compared life to a ship in the harbor—it’s safe there, but that’s not what ships are for. Staying in the harbor is not what its creator planned for it. What has your Creator planned for you?

And here’s Sid’s final challenge:

Do great things for God.

Trust Him. Don’t settle for playing it safe.

What could God do if every person

who has a relationship with Him

dared to be great?

This homebody changed countries seventeen times in fourteen months

All I ever wanted was to live a quiet, secure life in a little white house with a picket fence and a rose garden but, as I told you a few days ago, my husband Dave and our adventuresome God had other plans. Just when our youngest finished college, both Dave and God hollered, “Africa!”

Not only had I wished to live a predictable, serene, uninterrupted, sheltered life—I also wanted a travel-free life. For years I had awakened every morning and realized I’d had yet another bad dream about travel.

Maybe I had been on a train speeding down the tracks, knowing I needed to get off someplace—but where? Or perhaps I was on a city bus and needed to get off and transfer to another route—but where? Or I had arrived at a dock to board an ocean-going vessel headed toward foreign shores when I discovered I’d forgotten to bring my passport. And on and on.

It was worse than not being a fan of travel—I had a lot of angst about travel. And I wanted to stay put!

Yet God seemed to stand there and say, “My best plans for you involve both Africa and travel.” Period.

I wanted to avoid facing my fear of travel. God wanted me to face it, stare it down. Overcome it.

To begin with, He sent me to Africa, and getting there required quite a journey—to the opposite side of the world.

But that was only the beginning. Once I got there, God gave me a job that required travel. A lot of travel.

I started my memoir, Grandma’s Letters from Africa, with an example of what my job required:

September 29, 1994 

Nairobi, Kenya 

Dear Maggie,

I awoke at four this morning, unable to sleep any longer. Ah, I thought, surprised, I’m still not over jet lag. I had arrived back in Nairobi twenty-eight hours earlier and thought I should’ve recovered from jet lag but, to my dismay, I had not.

I lay there in bed mentally drawing lines, tracing my journeys over the past fourteen months: the United States, England, Scotland, Kenya, Cameroon, Burkina Faso, Niger, back to Burkina Faso, Senegal, Ivory Coast, Togo, Ethiopia, Kenya, Canada, the United States, Holland, and back to Kenya. As of today, I have changed countries seventeen times in fourteen months. 

Imagine! This homebody had changed countries seventeen times in fourteen months! Not states, but countries—nations. On three continents.

Do you suppose God was being mean-spirited when He gave me a job that required travel? And not easy travel, either—often international journeys have unique challenges, especially when those countries are in a place like Africa.

I don’t think God was being mean. He knew my fear was something I needed to change. Perhaps He was acting like a good coach, saying, “You can do this. Work hard. Work harder. Persevere.” If I’d been paying close attention, I probably could have sensed him saying, “I’ll help you. Trust Me.”

I love Chuck Swindoll’s words:

“Don’t be afraid. Stand still. 

Watch [God] work. Keep quiet.

It’s then that He does His best work on our behalf. 

He . . . handles our predicament opposite the way we’d do it.” 

(from Great Days with the Great Lives)

Did you get that? Chuck says that sometimes 

God does just the opposite of what we want 

or would tend to do. 

I didn’t want to face my fear, 

but God seemed to say, “You need to get over this.”

And I must let you know this: Even before I arrived in Africa, I stopped having those bad dreams about travel. I still had worries about travel, but not the bad dreams.

I was on my way!