.The Muslim Man with the Smile.

It was months ago that I first noticed him, sitting in a make-shift wheel chair on the corner, a blanket draped over the bottom half of his tunic wearing body, and a small khoffia (Muslim hat) on his head. He is elderly and frail, and it is obvious that he is crippled. When I first saw him, I thought his legs had been amputated, but have since learned that they are just withered and deformed. My home culture has taught me that a man of his religion is to be feared, but every time I walk by this man, I don’t feel fear, instead I feel curious joy.

It wasn’t the wheelchair, or his crippled legs that I first noticed, and neither was it his religious attire, but rather the smile that lit up his whole face day after day after day that he sits at the corner. He radiates joy and peace. He is crippled and obviously poor, but he smiles with such authenticity. There is something different about this old Muslim man. He is opposite of and doesn’t match the rhetoric that I so often hear about people who believe the way that he does. He is not the same as other beggars here either. Most, sit outside, asking for money, or jiggling their cupped hand with a few coins clanging together to solicit a few more from passerbys. But this man, he just sits still in his wheelchair and smiles at the people who walk past him. I don’t know if he receives much money. I have never seen anyone stop for him.

For months I passed him by too, but he would always catch my eye and smile, and I could not help but return that smile. It was involuntary. Since there are so few ferinji (white foreigners) in our community, I know that he quickly began to recognize me on my daily walks. As I left my gate, I began to look forward to walking by this man. There is so much need that surrounds me everyday. It is suffocating at times. I always pray that God will not let me grow hardened or used to the need here, and so far my bleeding heart has not allowed that to happen. My eyes will still burn with tears as we drive and encounter poverty around the city.  Sometimes it is exhausting, and feels hopeless; but I would rather hurt than not feel anything at all.

There are so many conversations about how to best help the poor and needy. The conversations are so good and wise, and I never want to do more harm than good. I know that can often times happen with soft hearts and good intentions. There are so many great arguments as to why one should never give money to a beggar. Sometimes I really do follow that practice, but sometimes there is no doubt that the Spirit moves me to break those rules. It is a fuzzy balance, and is one that I have written of before. My very own child was once a beggar on the street, and although the few coins that he received did not save his life or ultimately help him out of his situation, they did preserve his life until God’s timing for change took place. I cannot forget that, and it impacts how I daily live here. So, admittedly, I probably walk out a posture that some would think was wrong.

As the months added up, and I continued to exchange smiles with that old, kind Muslim man, I felt more and more convicted that I needed to drop just a few coins into his hand. And one day I did. As I bent over his chair, looked into his bright, brown eyes, and as our smiles matched, I gently dropped a few coins into his warm hand. He grabbed my hand, and covered it with both of his wrinkled with paper thin, chocolate skinned hands. His touch was so grandfatherly, and his eyes held a story, a story of life lived and wisdom and love, and I so badly wanted the Amharic to bend down next to him and hear his story. Instead my eyes held his just for a moment, and the twinkle and joy in his eyes pierced my heart.

The very next day he was gone. He had disappeared from his corner spot. My heart flip-flopped. My immediate thoughts were drawn to Hebrews 13:2 “Don’t forget to show hospitality to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it!” Now my fundamental, black and white background would have squirmed at this thought, but I have seen things here that cannot be put into that box. I casually mentioned the verse to my husband and oldest son, and they smiled at me sideways. Habi joked about a “Muslim angel”.  I even began imagining things, maybe God was testing me, like in the parable of “the good Samaritan”, maybe He wanted to see if I would stop and pay attention to this man who practices a religion that I am supposed to fear. I was hoping maybe I passed the test. But day after day there was no sign of my sweet Muslim old man. After awhile I began to worry that something tragic had happened to him. Then just as quickly as he had disappeared, he reappeared.  And I once again started stopping by his chair for a moment to drop a few coins into his lap, and to see that smile up close.

I don’t have a pretty end to this story. I have not done the “missionary thing” and shared Jesus with him. My Amharic is far from able to do that, and translating on the side of the road is not really feasible. I don’t know his story, but I want to. I want to know why this crippled Muslim man sits in a wheelchair smiling that gigantic smile. I want to know where he disappeared to, and whom he calls family. Where does he sleep at night? What are his fears? What has he lived? I don’t know if I will ever find out, but I am going to try. Right now that trying starts with exchanging smiles, gifting a few coins, and whispering some Amharic greetings. Maybe I can convince my husband to push him home for a meal.

By the way, yesterday he added some big, flashy sunglasses to his ensemble, and I literally laughed out loud. I guess I am learning to look and find joy in the most unexpected places - like in the smile of a kind old, sunglass wearing, Muslim man.

.The In-Between.

I have seen the topic all over social media lately and in book stores. The topic about saying yes to God. It's beautiful what God is rising up inside of His Church, in this generation. The invitation to say yes to what He is doing in the world is exciting, and I believe that He has big plans for us - for this generation and the generations to follow us. The creativity and the uniqueness of His personal invitations are limitless, and it leaves me breathless. But lately every time I see another blog post, or facebook status, or cute instagram quote pop up that talks about saying yes to God, I cringe and my heart hurts, because I am inside of the yes, and it hasn't felt very cute being here. Saying yes to God cannot be reduced down to the next cute, fad thing. It just can't. Everyone that says yes to God knows this. There is a realness and rawness that comes with the yes that is both exhilarating and excruciating.

I am beginning to discover that there is often a gaping hole between saying yes to God and the fulfillment of that yes. That gaping hole is dark and deep. Right now my family is inside of that gaping hole. We are in the in-between; no longer are we living off the high of the yes, and we have yet to see the yes fulfilled. We are just hanging precariously in the middle. I wish that I could say that since last summer, when we finally surrendered our yes to God to move to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia -when we stepped out in faith and accepted His invitation to partner with God by serving street kids - that our life has been rainbows and butterflies. But it has been anything but that. It has been hard, ugly grueling; we have fough tooth and nail to fulfill the yes. It has become a sloppy mess of intentional daily obedience. There is very little glamour inside of the gap where daily scratching out obedience becomes your battle cry. It's continuing to say yes, by putting one heavy, aching foot in front of the other and burrowing deeper into the gaping hole of the in-between.

Being completely transparent with you, I have cried buckets of tears, eaten my way through too many chocolate bars, questioned our sanity, doubted our call, and been more fearful than brave in every single step of this process. The in-between is hard. Some moments when I look at what is before us, and what is left to be done in order to fulfill this yes, I am more scared than anything else. It is inside these shaky moments, where my heart is panicked and terrified, that my soul knows that this yes has been and always will be God-ordained. Because the Tiffany that I know so well, would never ever set out to do something so big on her own. We know that this is where God works and moves. Sometimes He asks us to do hard things, to claw for that daily obedience after the initial yes, with no reality of that yes manifesting itself.

Sometimes He makes us wait inside the gap, and sometimes the wait is long.

The scariest part of the journey comes after the yes. Sure the journey begins when one courageously surrenders that yes and takes the leap of faith. Absolutely that is hard and scary, but to be suspended in the gap after the yes is frightening. It's a painful place to be to be caught between your yes and the dream of that yes becoming a reality. It is in this chasm that the enemy slips in, and we must guard our hearts. But it is also inside this chasm of the unfulfilled yes, that I think God intentionally backs us into, in order that we might see that there is no way for our yes to be fulfilled except from Him. Our desperation is just a way to set the stage for God to finish what He started in miraculous ways that only He can.

That's where I am right now - where my family is - inside the chasm between the yes and the fulfillment of that yes -we are waiting - wandering aimlessly in the dessert desperate for that Promise Land. But while we wait, I have to believe that God is working behind the scenes - in our hearts and on the details of the yes. We are in some kind of supernatural holding pattern. Somedays I am okay with that, and I am intentional about enjoying the here and now and building the Kingdom from here. Other days I am discouraged and confused and fearful and doubtful, and both kinds of days are okay. God can handle my questions and concerns and loves me through them. I am learning that every yes, every dream, has difficulties, and during this time where we wait, God is preparing us. I now believe that a year ago, our hearts weren't ready for the unknown reality of what lies ahead in Africa. Today, a year later, I believe that although we are not there yet, we are much more prepared for our future life. It is in this delay that our faith has been tested and we have grown. We have had to learn how to better respond to pressure, to stress, the unexpected, and disappointments, and how to continue striving for that daily obedience to our Jesus. All things that we will need in order to survive in Ethiopia.Things that I now believe we had to go through this past year, here, before we move there.

We are not alone in this waiting period. There are so many examples of Biblical precedent to where we find ourselves.The Egyptians always come to mind. When we say yes to God, there is no easy guarantee, there is a promise that we will never be alone and that God's way will always be best, but most likely it will not be easy. Saying yes, puts the reigns firmly in God's hands. I've surrendered control and yielded to Him. My yes offers everything back to Him - even this moment right here between the yes and the fulfillment of that yes - the in-between - He has it all. He's here now, in the in-between, and wants to do more with this than I could ever imagine. I trust that - even when it is hard.

A recent family photo - thanks to my sweet friend, T!

.The Importance of a Calling.

I am not a theologian, so I won't pretend to be one. I am simply a Jesus follower, who has the same Holy Spirit living inside of me that a theologian has. That's my only qualification for writing this post; that and my own life experience. As we get closer and closer to our move to Ethiopia, I have been reflecting a lot on our calling. When I say calling, just so that we are all on the same page, as the term tends to be interchangeable and muddy, I am referring to God's intimate, individual invitation to a person, to partner with God in His Kingdom work here on earth, by carrying out a specific task. I don't want to spiritualize the definition or get too churchy, so let's agree on this definition for the sake of this post.

I have shared so many times here about how God drew our family into this specific calling, so I don't want to rehash too many of the details. However, it never gets old for me to look back and see how God has slowly, graciously, and beautifully been whispering His invitation to me as far back as I can remember. When, as a little girl, I sat in AWANA mesmerized by those missionary stories read to me, He was whispering. When a little later I felt my heart race as I listened to missionaries who shared their experiences. Or how on every single spiritual gift assessment test that I have taken in my lifetime, my gift always comes up as "mercy", and how I was born loving the broken, underdogs, and rejected people in this world. More whispers. So many whispers, from being drawn to Africa in college and considering teaching in the Ivory Coast, to finally landing on Ethiopian soil for the first time and feeling a peace in my soul that I had never, ever felt before. In realizing when being in Ethiopia those first ten days, that although I was experiencing the worst pain that I had ever imagined, as my eyes were opened to incredible needs and I entered people's stories, that I was also the most content that I had ever been in my life. And the whisperings continued. There were moments, when I knew that I knew that God was moving us to Ethiopia, and I would have an amazing peace, only to have it quickly snatched away by fear and doubt. This happened over and over for three years after landing in Ethiopia. For three years we found very good, logical reasons to say "no" to God's calling - his invitation to join the work He was doing in Ethiopia with street kids.

Even when we witnessed the miracle of redemption in our home with our son, who was a former street child, and understood that we had discovered a great purpose in discipling him and sharing the love and mercy of Jesus, and what it means to live in a family with him, and how God had uniquely skilled us for that task - even when we let ourselves think about how we might use those very same skills for other children in Ethiopia we said "no". Even though, this very "work" of joining God in the transformation of a street child felt so good and right (even in the hard moments), and without a doubt I now know, this is what we were meant to do; we still said "no". Even though we felt the most purpose in abundant family life, and discipling others to find that same joy was the beat of our heart; we still said "no". I am so thankful for a God Who is so patient with us, and just waited and continued to quietly invite us to say "yes", and I am thankful for the people in our lives who saw the invitation long before we did and upon hearing the news exclaimed, "what took you so long?" Such sweet confirmation. God's calling started years ago, it wasn't something that we suddenly woke up and discovered, it was just something that we finally had eyes to see and recognize.

Some may wonder why a call is so important in the first place. Why does it matter if you know you are called, as long as it is something you have the desire to do? And although desire does have a place in the call, desire will not be what sustains us. It is with certainty that I can write that there will be hard, excruciatingly painful, taxing days, weeks, months to come for our family in Addis Ababa. God doesn't invite people to comfortable; He invites them to share in His suffering. There is nothing easy or comfortable about moving a family to a third world country, and this is not me being a martyr or looking for a pat on the back - this is just plain reality. We are walking in, having counted the cost, with the full understanding that what we were invited into will be hard. However, I have great hope, that on those discouraging days, when we are homesick, when we make mistakes, when we lose a supporter, when nothing is going the way we planned, the certainty of this call on our life will sustain us, and the very One Who called us will walk the hard with us.

Adversity is sure to come, because the adversary does not like Kingdom work. The adversary is a pro at planting seeds of doubt, but remaining confident in the truth that we have been invited into this work will keep us grounded. I love that a call always invites us into what God is already doing. His Kingdom advancement is not dependent on us, yet He invites us and carves out a place where the talents He has gifted us with can be used. One thing that God keeps bringing to mind, through various resources, is that there are people that have gone before us in Addis and will come after us, we have no superman complex, we are simply linking arms with what God is already doing. It is an exciting thing to know that we are being invited into this!

I am really thankful for the peace and confidence that this calling brings to my life. To learn more, click here. The creativity and intimacy that He pours into His calls are inspiring. I love hearing the many, many different ways that He is using all of us to advance His Kingdom. Please feel free to share your calling in the comments below. It's part of your story, and part of the Great story He is weaving together. I can't wait to hear yours.

.I Don't Have to Give up my Bleeding Heart.

I walked into the classroom, inhaling the smell of chalk dust and stale air. I smoothed my hands over the little dress I wore - in following the dress code it covered my knees which were already covered in little tights. I was in second grade, in the small Christian school that I attended throughout my entire formative years. If I close my eyes, I can see and smell the room - even remembering the arrangements of the desks. I sat in front of him - the trouble-maker, the fidgeter, the boy who constantly receiving consequences - going so far as to disrupt the entire class multiple times a day. He was defiant and mouthy and loud. He was bored with school, with us, with the teacher. He knew exactly how to press the buttons of our middle-aged teacher, and he would send her into a tailspin - every single day. There was a lot of turmoil in my second grade classroom, and much of it was exacerbated by him.With hindsight, I think he must have suffered from sensory processing disorder or both. Or maybe a traditional school setting just did not work for him. But back then, over 25 years ago, he was just labeled as a "naughty boy".

Even in second grade, at just eight years old, I was quickly learning that I was wired differently than a lot of my peers. I can remember watching my little class mates tease that "naughty boy" at recess, and upon seeing the hurt in his eyes, pain would surge through my body. When tears threatened to spill onto his cheeks, tears would also threaten to spill onto mine. I felt weird for me, but more than that, I felt hurt for him. And so, I stood up for him - over and over and over. And for some reason, my peers never turned their cruelty on me, but my defense of the boy never really diminished their cruelty on him either. I remember being that little eight year old girl, laying in my white twin bed with the gold embossing, and not being able to sleep at night, because I would think about this boy, and how much he must hurt every single day that he was in school. I was so sensitive to his pain.

That day that I walked into the classroom, like every other morning, I had a plan. I walked over to the boy and touched his shoulder. I whispered, Can you try to be a good boy today, to listen to Mrs. Figary, to obey? Please?? If you do, I promise that I will play with you at recess. I guess, that day, my pleading must have worked, because I remember playing with him at recess - or having him chase me around the playground while trying to kiss me - while I squealed in mock protest. From that day forward, I whispered that plea to him every single morning of the remainder of that school year. Some days it worked and some days it didn't. Regardless I continued to empathize with him and feel for him, and everyone else around me.

That was the year that I discovered that God had created me with a bleeding heart. I was eight years old. I didn't have the words to understand, but I had big feelings and extreme empathy for people around me - adults and peers alike. I was sensitive, and I cried easily - mostly for the hurts of others. I was a moody child because I was intuitive about the feelings of others, and would literally take them upon myself. It's a lot for a child, so at home I would sulk and my pendulum of moods would swing wide and far. The emotional distress of other people was a lot for me to handle, and I did not always know how to process that. I also did not entirely understand that not everyone felt things the same way that I did. I always had a circle of friends, and I was never bullied or mistreated, but I often felt different - like an outsider - and I quickly learned to build up walls to protect myself from being suffocated in empathy and feelings. I felt misunderstood a lot. I was so aware of my surroundings, and of the feelings and emotions of others, that many times I had to close off my own feelings in order to protect myself from being completely overwhelmed. At times, when I felt too much, I pushed relationships right away - closing myself off completely. This destructive pattern followed me into my adult life.

                                                                             [source]

It has taken me over 30 years to really begin to understand the way that God has hard wired me. I am learning to embrace the title bleeding heart, and truly that does define me well. Through the adoption process of our youngest son, traveling to a third world country, falling in love with a street boy and a country so different from my own, I have begun to see how purposeful God was in the way He created me. My bleeding heart was not an accident - it's not a mistake, a disorder, or a weakness in itself. Yes, absolutely there are weaknesses in me, because of the sensitive way in which I am molded. I have to give those weaknesses to Jesus every, single day, but I don't have to give up my bleeding heart. I don't need to be fixed. I now know that this extreme empathy that God tenderly put inside of me - that ability to empathize with underdogs, with hurting people, with the marginalized - that ability that I have to ache right alongside a person that aches, is a gift, and every step along the way in realizing this gift has been preparation for my future life in Ethiopia. This awareness for the needs and feelings of others is being fine-tuned for purpose in the Kingdom. The excruciating sensitivity to the people that cross my path is necessary for what lies ahead.

God has been pursuing me for years into a beautiful heart-relationship with Jesus. He has been refining me, and teaching me to invest my sensitive self and deep emotions into the Kingdom. It has not been an easy journey. The hurt has run deep, the feelings consuming at times, the pain of being misunderstood intense, but it is a journey that I have needed to take. Yes, I am a natural burden bearer, but what I have had to continue to learn is how to bear those burdens by unloading them at the feet of Jesus. Compassion is all about entering into someone's pain, but slowly I am learning not to stay inside of that pain and how to hand it over to the One Who promises a light yoke. (Matthew 11:28-30)

The Kingdom needs all kinds of people. The Kingdom needs me and my bleeding heart. Little by little I am learning to embrace that truth, and embrace who I am in Jesus. I don't have to give up my bleeding heart - there is space for all of me - for such a time as this.

How about you?

.You May Say That I'm a Dreamer.

But I'm not the only one.

I will always be a dreamer with fire in my eyes and a passion in my heart - a heart that bleeds for people. Sometimes it feels far more like a curse than the gift that it was created to be. And today my heart bleeds and aches because it seems like so many people are hurting. I am so ashamed to admit that many people are hurting at the hands of Jesus followers. This confuses me. I thought we were the ones to bring Good News? I thought we were to bring peace, grace, mercy, and LOVE?

Many, many years ago when Jesus walked this earth, incarnated into our lives, and demonstrated exactly how we should live, He had a fascinating conversation with a Pharisee. (A religious, pompous, hypocritical legalistic leader of His day - hard to imagine anyone like this, huh? ahem.) The Pharisee was trying to trip Jesus up with a question. The answer Jesus gave sums up all of life for a Jesus follower - every single thing hangs on this answer. Everything. Everything we believe, how we act, what we say, how we live. Every. single. thing. The question was brief and housed in trickery and mockery, Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law? Matthew 22:36  

Jesus' answer was simple.

 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’  This is the first and greatest commandment.  And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’  All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments. Matthew 22:37-40

Love God. 

Love people.

Everything springs out of this. That's it. If we continually go back to these two things, and let love for God and for all people dictate the way we live out this one life, then we are serving God exactly the way Jesus expects us to serve Him, and we are living our lives in obedience to Jesus.

The Pharisees were extremely proud in their religiosity and morality. They held strictly to the religious laws and rules. They made rules for their rules in order to avoid any possibility of breaking them. But inside the rules, the legalism, the piety, the pointing fingers, they lost sight of the plank in their own eyes - they lost sight of their call to love, and even sadder is the fact that they lost sight of Who they love.

Our heart is central - we are to focus on loving God with a love that stems from our heart - everything we have and are - with our entire being. We should be so wrapped up in love and adoration for our God, that it is outrageously noticeable to everyone around us. When we do that, we are freed to love people with that same crazy kind of love that makes people question how and why and where this love is from. It can't help but point to our Jesus. Every time one of my four children disobeys, or needs some redirection, we talk through the two greatest commandments, because seriously everything, everything goes back to these. Try it. Try living out these two commands, and notice how it impacts all of life.

I am dreaming of a world where Jesus followers are known by a great big love that points to our great, big God. I am dreaming of a world where Jesus followers follow Jesus in His example of loving people - all people - the misfits, outcasts, outlaws, sinners, the sick, the lonely, the imperfect, the invisible. I am dreaming of a world where we are known by our love. (John 13:35)

It sounds a lot like the Kingdom that Jesus was constantly talking about. A Kingdom filled with love. Can you imagine? I'm going to keep dreaming.

Please tell me I'm not the only one.

.Hit by Friendly Fire: On Christians Hurting Christians.

The tear ran down my cheek, and I couldn't stop it as the anger and the shame of having spoken the words burned me. We were sipping our coffee and sharing our lives. We bared open some of the ugly stuff - the hurts we were enduring, and some of the beautiful stuff - the way God continues to reveal Himself in the hurts. The words that I had uttered hung in the air between us, and I sucked in a breath waiting for her response.

But why is it the Christians that always question us? Why is it that proclaimed Jesus followers treat us like we are crazy?

I nearly spat the words out of my mouth as the months of hurt and confusion came tumbling out into the light. She looked at me with no judgement, and her own hurts came bubbling to the surface, as her eyes filled with tears she said, I know. I understood that the same had been true in her life. I bit down hard on my trembling lips, and tried to still my trembling heart. It is one thing to follow Jesus to the ends of the earth, because you know, that you know, that you know He is calling you, but it is quite another to be questioned and judged by those claiming to be your own brothers and sisters.

It stings. It burns. It humiliates. And once again the world doesn't know us by our love (John 13:35), but by the way we throw our own in the fire with our judgments clothed in we just have a few questions for you.

Why is this so? It is something that bothers me so much, and if I am not careful it can make me bitter and angry. I foolishly cling to the bitterness thinking that somehow it will protect those bruised, raw spaces in my heart. But the bitterness doesn't protect, it bites, and the spaces bleed and my heart pulses with hurts and wounds that feel like they will never heal.

I have been pouring this hurt out to God lately, and am rediscovering that this is really nothing new - my friend and I are not isolated incidents of hurt. We live in a fallen world - this should be expected. I should have known it was coming. Jesus, Himself, was the most questioned and judged by the religious people of His day. It was the religious leaders - the most religious people - who could not stand Jesus and what He was doing. Amazingly the immoral people - the prostitutes, tax collectors, rebels - they all flocked to Him. (Strangely enough we have found unbelievers have less questions about our call to Ethiopia.) But the people, who should have understood Him and His calling, who should have supported Him, they were repelled by Jesus.

It is ultimately what led to Jesus crucifixion.

We get questioned a lot about timing - how could you have moved so quickly from church planting to Africa? I truthfully don't understand God's ways, and sometimes I wish He did things cleaner, but it is honestly so that I don't have to face the criticism. It is easy for me to see how God drew us to Ethiopia, even using the brief months of the church plant, and it makes perfect sense when we reflect on all of the puzzle pieces. He has been drawing us for years. I am amazed that the people who rubbed shoulders with us and claimed to be our spiritual family could not see Him drawing us. Almost any conversation with Jim or I over the past few years quickly turned to Ethiopia, street kids, and following Jesus to the ends of the earth. But I have hashed that out already, and am not up to it again. It took moving us out of our comfortable to get us to say yes, but for Christians on the outside I suppose we look wishy-washy and not committed. Or something.

I wonder what the religious people thought about the disciples sudden change in call? Think about Peter and Andrew who were fishermen by trade. One day they were fishermen and then poof they dropped their nets and followed Jesus. (Matthew 4:18-20) Wow, that must have looked so crazy and uncalculated and foolish. I am guessing that people questioned their call - after all how could it change so quickly? Then look at James and John, who were also fishermen by trade - not only in one single day did they leave their jobs, but they also left their boat, their own father, and their hired servants to follow Jesus. They realized that their divine call was more important than any earthly obligations - or so it appears from the passage. (Mark 1:19-20)

Paul wrote in I Corinthians 12:25 that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other.  Jesus told us that the world would know us if we loved one another – not if we argued against each other (John 13:35). I think the enemy delights in what we do to one another. I think he delighted in what the religious leaders (pharisees) did to Jesus. Instead of linking arms and building the Kingdom, while being unified in fighting the enemy, more times than not we are a house divided wielding swords and each other. At least that has been my experience.

I don't have a sweet way to wrap this post up with a tidy bow. Perhaps I should sit on it longer. Perhaps I shouldn't even publish it. I have the awful feeling that I am not alone in this, though. It just seems to me if we are being guided by the Holy Spirit, and they are being guided by the Holy Spirit - the same Holy Spirit, and if we are all loving God and our neighbor (which includes one another) then this hurt shouldn't happen.

I guess I am just plain tired of getting hit by friendly fire. 

Even my close friend in whom I trusted, who ate my bread, has lifted his heel against me (Psalm 41:9).

But I take comfort in knowing that Jesus endured pain and flack from those supposedly "on His side".

. . . He who ate my bread has lifted his heel against me (John 13:18).

I cannot change people, so rather the conclusion to all of this is in my heart - how will I deal with this? I think, once again, the answer lies in denying myself. This is hard stuff. I don't want to run or build walls around my heart. I wish it didn't hurt so much, but I know my Jesus is inside of the pain - He is inside this deep sting that feels like betrayal. I am choosing to believe that this very thing that intends to harm us will be used by God to heal us. After all Jesus understands the sting of rejection, the burn of judgments, and the humiliation of being questioned yet again. 

Once again, I am handing this pain over to the One who understands, I am handing it to Jesus, and I am following Him wherever He takes me, no matter the cost (or questions).

Where is the Love? .A Christmas Post.

I suppose that I should state right at the very beginning, that I am as much a part of this problem as the next person. This is not supposed to come across as yet another judgy post about judgmentalism. Goodness there are enough of those without me adding my voice. I am examining my own heart, and I process best when there are letters underneath my fingertips. So if you landed here, understand that you landed on what is my own self-examination poured out on the screen. {lucky you}

If you spend anytime on social media, which I am guessing you do a little, since you are here, then it is not hard to be bombarded with all of the Christmas links and posts swirling around. You know the ones:

why my family doesn't do Santa,

why my family does do Santa,

why we don't buy gifts for our kids,

why we do buy gifts for our kids,

why Christmas has been reduced to a materialist, consumerist big marketing day,

how to reclaim Christmas and make it simple,

why we do Elf on the Shelf,

why Elf on the Shelf is evil,

why only purchase gifts that make a difference,

why make Christmas magical and go all-out with gift giving

etc. You get my point. The tension is high and our swords are drawn. This happens so much with Jesus-followers. I recently wrote another post noticing lines drawn in the sand with the adoption community. It happens all of the time - mud-slinging, dividing lines, judgments, and self-righteousness - and so much of it in the name of Jesus.

And when this happens the enemy is getting this victory. No, of course he does not win in the end, but these little battles, the battles that occur and break down the Kingdom rather than build it up, he's winning them, and we are his pawns. We willingly pick fights against our brothers and sisters, and work so hard on defending our opinions that our energy is used up in all of the wrong places.

And the world is taking note.

John 13:35 says, Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples. It doesn't say that we will be known for the way we defend ourselves, not even for our doctrine, not for the political side we lean into, or the churches we attend, our piety, or the lines we draw in the sand. The one characteristic that is supposed to be able to identify us as Jesus followers to the world is our love - our extravagant, unmistakable, over-the-top lavished on love, and even more specifically in that verse - our love for one another.  But golly, where is the love? Our bashing of the way our brothers and sisters choose to celebrate the birth of Jesus certainly is not showing the world this love that should identify us. We have the absolute biggest and best reason to celebrate Christmas! We know the amazing miracle that happened when Jesus, the Son of God, came down into our mess, humbled himself and changed everything because of the divine rescue plan that was set into motion the night His helpless baby of a body was laid into that rustic manger. We know the secret that was born in that stable. We also know that it was the greatest act and the greatest gift of love for God to sacrifice His Son. And we should be proclaiming that love from the rooftops, and mimicking it with our lives. The two greatest commands are pretty clear - love God with our everything, and love people as much as ourselves(Luke 10:27).

LOVE.

LOVE.

LOVE.

Somewhere along the way, we have lost our love - the very thing that should identify us with Jesus - the Jesus Who our Christmas celebrations revolve around.

I want Christmas to be meaningful for my family, and I think it is necessary to think through traditions and how our family will celebrate the birth of our King. I really think that is a beautiful and wise thing. But it's okay if my family does it differently than your family does it. It's okay to give each other the grace to be this Christmas. I just want off the crazy-train of mud-slinging. I've had enough.

I hope my home is only filled with Jesus and His love this Christmas, and that is what I hope for you as well - regardless of how your family chooses to celebrate it. We have this amazing chance to show the world something different this Christmas. I am laying down my sword, asking for forgiveness, and I am picking up love.

.

.All the Pretty Things.

It is so hard to turn my eyes upon Jesus.

We took a walk tonight, just Jamesy and I. He was snug in his footy jammies, fastened in the jogging stroller as we weaved in and out of the neighborhood around us. It was that sweet spot of evening, where the sun glows low and luminous right before its curtain call. Lights spilled warm, soft, and yellow from windows. A few neighbors sat on porches, enjoying the mild autumn evening, waving hellos. I like the quietness of being on a walk with no need for conversation. Life is so loud and busy, that I need intentional solitude and stillness. It's always there in those moments that I grow introspective, and it's there that I meet my Savior.

As I walked, I came upon an adorable brick home, with electric candles filling the windows, and autumn decor tastefully displayed in every possible nook and cranny. The house was so welcoming and lovely. The mums stood tall and proud, their color popping against the brick. The orange pumpkins were nestled in just the right places. The manicured lawn spoke of the owners' delight in their surroundings. I glanced at the prim decor hung on the door, and for just a brief moment my mind wandered away imagining what it would be like to move in. My heart ached a bit as I realized that I would not be decorating for autumn again, and I felt silly as tears pricked my eyes. But the longing, the yearning was there. The knowledge that, although I am beyond grateful to have a roof over my head and the hospitality of my in-laws, I don't have a place of my own any more, and I will likely never again have what I once had. I truly feel like a sojourner.

In that moment my heart was tender and bruised, as I was reminded once more of what God was requiring me to give up in order to follow after Jesus. He has been steadfast in leading me and prying my fingers gently off of the things that have mattered and defined so much of me and my life. He has graciously held the mirror up to my face and pointed out the log that was so grotesquely sticking out my eye. And wow, is it painful trying to yank that log out!

And this is where I pause, because this is where sometimes my words get twisted and confused. God absolutely is asking me to sacrifice my home, my possessions, and so many of my earthly treasures, but I am no better or more spiritual than another Jesus follower who has not been asked the same thing.There is nothing really wrong with decorating our homes beautifully, or living in nice houses. There is nothing wrong with collecting shoes and bags. It was just wrong for me, because it consumed me in a way that nothing else did. We all have to sacrifice to follow Jesus. There is no way around it. I do not believe there is any way around the pain of it either. I believe that the sacrifices He requires are as unique as the individuals who follow Him. He knows our weaknesses. He knows what is winning our affections. He knows the bends and curves of our hearts, and what we are replacing Him with. He knows what consumes us more than Himself. Oh, He knows the areas in our life that need to decrease, so that He can increase. For me it is materialism and consumerism, because when I am trapped in them, and I have been for so long, the stuff consumes far more of me than Jesus consumes me.

It is rather interesting that every single morning I pray over each of my children that they would be completely consumed by Jesus, and yet, here I am, an adult, still struggling with this. Truthfully, I think it will be a battle for the rest of my life. Today, my mom-in-law took me on a shopping spree for my birthday - online. I spent a good hour pouring over clothes, and it was fun. I have not purchased new clothing in so long. I went back and forth, back and forth until I finally settled on what I wanted. And it wasn't until that walk tonight, that I realized what that money could have been used on - a Christmas gift for Fassika, our Compassion child, or deposited directly into our Mercy Branch Inc. account, or used on bills, or sent to one of Habi's friends to pay for a month or more of food etc. And while, I do not really feel guilty, nor necessarily feel as if it was wrong of me to order those clothes, I am also once again confronted with how easily I fall right back into old desires. How easily it is that I forget and neglect to seek first the Kingdom.

And that is truly what this all comes down to. I want to want to seek first the Kingdom, but I am not there yet. There are still sacrifices to be made, there are still heart desires to be replaced, and there is still so much growth that needs to take place. My eyes still flitter so easily away from Jesus and land on all the pretty things. I am striving to replace all of the pretty things with Jesus.

But it is hard. Sanctification is grueling.

I miss this, and perhaps I always will, but perhaps one day I will be so consumed with Jesus, and my eyes will be so fixed on His face that the longing will fade away, and I will be consumed by nothing and no one but Jesus. And all of the pretty things will lose their luster when I see Him for Who He is.

.My Everything.

DISCLAIMER: I am not sure if this is the kind of thing that one should hit the publish button on ....or even write, but here it goes anyway. This, after all, is my safe space. I have been wrestling with this for a long time. I am so, so human, and sometimes this call on our life feels too big. Sometimes I just wish that I could blend in again and be that wallflower that I once was. I am praying that as you read this, you do not read self-righteousness into my words, but rather the wrestling of a human girl's heart. I don't have it all together. I may not even be doing this following Jesus thing right, but I want to. I have to try.

Once upon a time she was a high school student with a crush on a cute, freckle-faced high school boy. It was first love. First dates. First kisses. She lost her heart and he lost his, and they were the perfect, adorable couple. They complemented one another - his strengths band-aided her weaknesses and his weaknesses were masked by her strengths. They went to Bible college together, and talked of serving Jesus. They walked around the pristine housing developments in the area and held hands dreaming of their white picketed fence future, of their blond hair blue-eyed babies, of their vehicles, of vacations and dreams and security.

The best was yet to be.

The wedding day was all they dreamed and marriage was good and young and sweet. Camp ministry called them back home, and they were happy to be near family and to begin building their dream. They wrote out a ten year plan and worked toward buying a house and adding those blond hair blue-eyed babies. Life was good, predictable, safe, and easy. A house, two well-behaved children, a dog. Everything was so tidy. So picture perfect. Money was good, and spending it was fun. New clothes, shoes, bags, sports memorabilia and sports games, and plus they served Jesus at camp.

And then God whispered to them to leave camp, and for a bit the dreams crumbled and confusion set in. But a pastorate was next, and all seemed to settle. Pride set in and they patted themselves on the back for taking such a giant leap of faith, and they thought that surely they had sacrificed and surrendered to a life of following Jesus. And then God pointed to Ethiopia and a special needs son. A son who may never be able to leave home or live alone, and things got more complicated. And the dream began to shatter beyond recognition. And money looked different. Following Jesus looked different. Ethiopia changed them. It changed them so much that the house and vehicles and clothing and shoes choked them, when they realized the idols that they had all become. The book of Luke began to mock them as they realized how twisted they had made discipleship out to be, and how they had swallowed the lies about easily and comfortably following Jesus.

They came home from Ethiopia, shell shocked, with a very needy tiny son. They came home with eyes wide open, and they came home different. They couldn't mask the new people they were becoming, and they struggled to live in the excess. They could no longer pretend to be the people they once were, and it cost them. It cost them relationships. It cost them reputation and image. It cost them carefree-ness and ease and comfort. It cost them date-nights and freedom and a normal life.

And then He pointed them to a street boy, and surely that would be as much as He required of that now bone-weary, depleted couple. It was an impossible chance that he could ever come home, but God excels in the impossible. The same couple who had so many dreams, and who used to whisper into the night about cruises and beautiful homes were entirely different people. And before they knew it they were knee-deep into parenting four children, one with severe special needs, two who had been displaced, and one who as a teenager had no idea how to live inside of a family. Nights were long, sleep seldom came, and the four walls of their home held so much knowledge of trauma, fears, healing and redemption. The couple desired to follow Jesus, but in their exhaustion they also desired a village to hold up their arms. Yet they found too few. Their family was stretched so thin and so lonely. The once, young, starry eyed couple fell into bed each night older than the night before, and the sweet whispers that once entangled them both became silence and tears and exhausted prayers. They were counting the cost, and realizing all they had given up and away to follow Jesus, and all that was still required.

And that's the thing, following Jesus is costly - He asks for everything.

But they thought they had given everything. They were grasping for some security and comfort and solidarity. So they put their house up for sale, the one they had painted and carpeted and dreamed of growing old together in. They stomped the dream out, and decided to start over in a new city, with new people, and new friends. A city who didn't know how strange they were. A city where maybe going out together as a family would not make them a spectacle. And they would plant a church - a church that they had been dreaming of - where apathy was non-existent, where people were passionate followers of Jesus, where worship was free and prayer was authentic, where relationships were the heartbeat, and where messiness and transparency was embraced. But it didn't work. Security got ripped away when a promised job was taken back. And the house didn't sell. Depression was real, and the couple stopped dreaming and just tried surviving. Only they were trying to survive by controlling everything - only everything was swirling out of control.

And then he whispered, this is not the plan, it is Ethiopia.

She screamed and cried, and she begged God to leave her family alone to look to another family. I just want that house with the white picket fence, and nice kids, and a husband with a secure job, and the Sunday morning church attendance kind of faith - the kind that requires little but nice clothes, a smiling face, and a few hours of my time once a week. I just want to be normal again. I don't want to look in the mirror and see eyes that were once so vibrant sag and dull with lack of sleep and trying to figure out how to be a mom of a teenage boy. I was supposed to have years before I had to ease into the teen years. I don't want people staring at us in public anymore, trying to figure out where we got our kids from and what exactly is wrong with the drooling, wiggly-eyed, non-verbal one. I wish that I didn't know what I now know, and that my heart didn't break for the injustice that I saw. I wish that I could go on pretending that a Christian American dream is enough.

And then He whispered  But I gave everything for you. Isn't that enough? Ethiopia is where I want you. It's where I have always wanted you from the beginning of time, when I created you. I was grooming you, refining you, breaking you down until their was nothing left to cling to. I  will be your comfort. I will be your safety. I will be your solidarity. I will be your confidant, your peace, your guidance.

I will be your everything, and your everything is exactly what I require from you. 

.An Open Letter to the Anonymous Guest.

This morning I found the following comment under the post announcing our desire to obey God in moving to Ethiopia.

Guest 

• 7 hours ago

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I have to say...I have quite a few questions about this move to Ethiopia. First, weren't you guys starting a church? What happened with that? You guys just brought Habi here a year ago, right? So now he's done living in America to go back to Ethiopia...and still with no education completed? I also remember you blogging that you knew it would be impossible for you to live in Africa because Jamesy has autism and has to have so many therapies available to him. Did that just stop happening? And what about CPS getting called on you guys twice for Jamesy? What will happen if he gets out in Ethiopia??

 

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I thought that perhaps these were some of the questions others were thinking, but had not addressed so boldly or at all. In an effort to continually live our life transparently I decided to answer the questions to the best of my ability right here.

Dear Anonymous Guest,

Thank you for being so concerned about our family and the welfare of our children as it pertains to our decision to be obedient to God's leading us to Ethiopia for missions. I am saddened that you felt that you had to hide behind an anonymous guest posting for your comment, but that aside I hope to answer your questions in a gracious manner.

First, let me say, that I believe Jesus calls us to live an authentic, transparent life, and that many of us Americans hide behind our supposed right to privacy. Our family has been trying to live counter-cultural for several years, having said that, even with blogging openly, and sharing a lot of our lives via facebook, there are still very intimate things and ways that the Holy Spirit works with us that never make it onto a blog or any other social media. I believe that the Holy Spirit is alive and active inside of followers of Jesus. I believe that He moves in extraordinary, supernatural ways that sometimes (actually very often - if we are truly in tune with His desires and leading) make absolutely no human sense, and I believe He does this so that God gets all of the glory in the end. Left to my own human nature, my life would look very soft, safe, and "normal". Left to my own human nature, I would not be moving to Ethiopia - heck, I NEVER would have set a piggy toe on African soil, I would not have two Ethiopian sons, I would never have left the camp ministry, and I would be chasing after the glitz and glamour of this world. Because honestly, that is a whole lot easier, safer, and less questioned.

So many times in the past five years, the leading of the Holy Spirit in our family's life has not added up. It didn't make logical sense, it was CRAZY, it didn't fit inside a box, and yet each time we have obeyed the Spirit's leading, we have been blessed beyond anything we could ever imagine. Every single time that we took a crazy leap of faith, God came through. We endured people calling us foolish, crazy, questioning our motives, our heart, our decisions. We have endured lost friendships, biting words from family, and people turning their back completely on us and our crazy-train. Although, it is still not easy, we have seen the faithfulness of God every single time and the confirmation that this is what it is to be a follower of Jesus. We have continually seen our faith look foolish....and many, many times it looks the most foolish to the people who claim to profess the same, exact faith as us.

In this point in our journey, while we do and always will count the cost of every decision we make (Luke 14:28), we no longer need to let the how get in the way of the what that God is calling us to. We have allowed the Spirit to get us into so many this is crazy and makes no human sense situations that we know without listening to His promptings and leadings we will never get to the awesome, incredible moments that only come piggy-backed to crazy. So, with that being said, I will try to specifically answer the many questions that you are concerned about for us, but please know that as I said above sometimes the leading of the Spirit just makes NO human sense.

Yes, we were planting a church. Yes, we truly believe that God called us to do that this summer, and no, we do not believe that we misunderstood the Spirit's leading us in this direction. In hindsight, as I indicated in my first post, looking back over these past months, we now can see and truly believe that this is exactly what God used to make us move away from our former church. We never would have left the church for just a different vocation, and we now know that we never would have said "yes" to moving to Ethiopia without first getting a little uncomfortable. That was not going to happen in our old church - we were comfortable there - things were easy for us, and we were able to give God so, so many excuses as to why we could not possibly move our family to Ethiopia. God, who knows us so perfectly, knew that the one thing that could draw us out of our hometown and church was the desire to plant a church and make a difference. We had fallen so in love with the simple, worship-filled, action-filled, Spirit-filled church in Ethiopia, and we were desperate to replicate that here. So, with starry-eyes we moved out of our home, away from our church and started our plant. It has been an amazing summer with these precious people, and surely God allowed this body to meet together "for such a time as this", but we are also now confident that He is not including us in the future of the church plant. That was probably the thing that we wrestled with the most, but through a myriad of circumstances - for example our church not being able to gain its non-for-profit status, and it being very  clear that there was no human reason why it could not be done, but rather God was not allowing it to happen and several other circumstances just like this, it became very, very clear that the Spirit was leading us in a different direction. Again, we do not believe that the church plant was a mistake, we believe it was part of His divine plan all gently nudging us to finally surrender to His ultimate desire for our lives. We are very thankful that God was so gentle and gracious with us in this, and that we were able to spend the summer with such an amazing group of people. We learned a lot doing the plant, and we now have a better understanding that we can never, ever replicate Ethiopia, here.

We have prayed about the impact that this move will have on all of our children, but perhaps on Habi, the most. We have sat down with him and had very serious, hard conversations with Habi. We have prayed with him, and we have given him opportunity to speak with other people about this plan. We in turn, have spoken with other familes who have adopted from Ethiopia and then returned to live there. We are not making a rash, foolish decision in any of this, although it may appear that way to those on the outside looking in. Yes, it is true that Habi has only been here in America for one year. Let me be very clear, though, we absolutely did not bring Habi home, so that he could "be in America", have American advantages and prosperity, or even to receive an education. We brought Habi here because he was a child without a family who was desperate to have a family, and we are his family. Of course education is important, and we are very thankful for the way that his private school has worked with him this year, but he will still be getting an education in Ethiopia. I am a certified educator, and I will be homeschooling our three oldest children. Habi and I work very well together, I understand his learning style, and I am able to best help him as there is no other person in this world that knows Habi like I do. Homeschooling has always been our first option for Habi, being that he comes from such a different educational background than that you find here in America, so we are very, very excited that we will be able to homeschool him in Ethiopia. America is not the answer for these children. There are wonderful privileges that come with living in America, but there also so many horrible distractions that make living for Jesus and trying to be a godly teenager here in the states very difficult. Habi loves Ethiopia and the people of Ethiopia, and He desires to share Jesus over there. He loves his culture and he is proud of his rich, beautiful heritage. America was never, ever a permanent choice for Habi. Almost weekly he would tell us how he was going to move back to Ethiopia one day to share Jesus with those he loved. It was never America or an education that he sought, but rather it was a Daddy and a Mommy who loved and cared about him, and that is permanent no matter where God leads us.

For a long time, Jim and I used Jamesy as our biggest excuse as to why we could not follow Jesus to Ethiopia. Yes, it is true that Jamesy has many special-needs. Once again we strongly believe that God divinely orchestrated our summer to erase these excuses. We have been living with Jim's parents since May, because of that all of Jamesy's therapies have completely stopped. And since May, Jamesy's vocabulary has doubly increased, his sensory seeking has slowed-down a bit, and he is over-all doing better than he ever has. We are so encouraged! It is true that Jamesy needs 24/7 monitoring and help, and we are very excited to be hiring a full-time nanny in Ethiopia to help be an extra set of hands and eyes. It is such a blessing to be able to hire an Ethiopian woman and give her a source of employment and to expose Jamesy to so much of his culture and heritage. We obviously do not know exactly how everything will work in country, but we trust that God does and that He is already paving a path. With the kind of visas that our family will be getting, we will be returning to America every six months. So twice a year (exactly what happens now), Jamesy will still be able to be seen by his specialists at the children's hospital in Philly, we will take all of his medication over with us, and we are hoping to sit down with his therapists and work out a plan that we can carry out for Jamesy in ET to continue his therapies on our own. Yes, Jamesy does like to run and escape (although CPS has only been called on us one time), and actually the house and compound that we will live in in Ethiopia will be completed fenced off and gated as well as monitored by a 24/7 guard. We are very happy to know that it will be impossible for Jamesy to escape from our home any longer! This is something we could never provide for him here in the states - nanny included. Also the culture is very, very different in Ethiopia. We will know our neighbors. Neighbors are much more like family and literally "the village" cares for each other. Jamesy will be very well taken care of and loved, as will all of our children.

I hope this answers a few of your questions and your concern for our family.