when God is silent

God has always talked to me. And I've always liked it that way. When I read the bible the verses jumped. When I went to church the preacher preached to me. When I talked to my friends the stuff they were learning was exactly what I needed to hear.

But in the last few months, for whatever reason, that changed. I found that God wasn't talking to me in those ways anymore. In fact I would read my bible every day, read a devotional, pray, and sometimes read other spiritual books and never seem to have one deep revelation. At first, this really scared me. I wondered if I was somehow sinning and blocking out God's voice.

Or I thought, maybe he's talking and I'm just not listening. I tried with my own logic to make a message or a word from God out of the random smatterings of reading and quiet time. But honestly, that didn't work. I still felt his silence.

This was a bit discouraging and kind of scary. If I'm not hearing God, how do I know what his will is? I was so scared in fact, that I stopped acting in faith. If I didn't know what God was saying, I didn't want to do anything.

For example, I was praying about what to do w/my money. I had been thinking about hiring some people to help in my house because I knew their families could use the help. I had also been wanting to help a friend out with some school expenses, but I never heard God say, "Justine hire this woman to clean" or "give your money to this friend."

So I did nothing. For several months, I just held onto my money and waited for an answer. Eventually I got one. In the midst of the silence, I felt God's spirit start to convict me about storing my treasures up on earth instead of in heaven. He brought to mind the parable of the talents, the rich young man, and the passages about giving to your brother in need. And in my heart I felt him so strongly say, "you're money is going to rot."

Wow! Kind of intense. I still wasn't sure what God wanted me to do, but I knew I had to start giving it away. So I did. I decided to do the things that had been on my heart to do even though I hadn't specificially heard God say them.

And you know, I think he was happy with that. I wonder if sometimes I don't overcomplicate God's will, making it out to be this tightrope walk that would end disastrously w/one mis-step. I don't know, maybe sometimes God does talk to us about every single decision. And maybe in some seasons He doesn't.

Maybe sometimes he says Go here. And other times he just says be my servant, and leaves it up to us to interpret what that means. I mean really, do you think God would get mad at me for hiring a struggling young widow to clean my house w/o asking him? Or would he be angry if I helped a friend out with their schooling when I know he's blessed me financially? Probably not...

Even now, I'm still sorting out what to do when God is silent. Maybe it's this simple: Do the good that's in front of you to do.

holiness?

The night she had 6 pudding instead of 7, I'm not sure if anyone noticed that it was her who went without. No one sees the cupboard full of missmatched sheets, the aftermath of open-handed linen lending. And I've not heard anyone acknowledge her sacrifice when she continuously offers the last bit of leftovers, leaving her own plate empty.

And yet, still she does it. Every day, Joy Irvine chooses to put others before herself, in a subtle but stunning posture of selflessness. As I've watched her over these past seven months, I've often thought, I wish I had a heart like hers and wondered how I could get one.

I don't choose to use my only free moments in my week to love on a three-year old or teach math to a second-grader. In fact, I'd much rather use my time for me, retreating to my house to write and listen to some music. But she somehow consistently chooses sacrifice, so much so, that I'm not sure she's even concious of it.

Sure, 30 years of marriage and mothering five children may have something to do with her bent toward servanthood. But I think it's even more than that. To me it's an example of what happens when a believer chooses to be Christ-like in the little things. Gradually, those little things accumulate and inside that person the nature of Christ himself is cultivated, and for a few moments each day heaven is on earth in her holiness.

Research is boring, right?

I just want to say quickly, I love teaching. To see my students hungry eyes light up when a concept finally clicks, may be one of the most rewarding exciting experiences I've had. Today in one of my English classes, we talked about research for 45 minutes.

That sounds so boring, doesn't it? But it wasn't boring at all. My students were firing questions at me faster than I could answer them. They wanted to know, how can I narrow my topic when I like every topic? "The poor, for example, is a very important topic everywhere in the world," one of my students said. He wanted to know how he can choose just one topic to write about.

Then another student asked the very basic question, "How can I find information in a book?" It sounds so basic, but we then spent several minutes talking about looking at the title of the book, the table of contents, and the index. We talked about scanning and key words and bold headings.

And every eye was on me, every hand eagerly scribbling notes.

What a huge privilege it is for me to teach here!

Looking Haitian

The other day Merline and her sister stayed over to watch a movie. In the morning I was telling them that sometime, I want to get my hair braided. Well before breakfast was over sometime had arrived. Merline's little sister braided my hair in about forty-five minutes. When it was all over, I looked like this. Finished product-->

I loved it....I had to take it out after only 3 days because I went swimming and couldn't get the salt out of my hair. But for a few days, I looked quite Haitian.

Leader

A few nights each week, after the workers have left and the sun has started to set, I go running around the perimeter of the mission compound. It’s a short track, but 5 to 10 laps gives me enough time to relax, digest the day, and get a little exercise in the process. Normally running is a time of solitude for me. But last week, my time of solitude quickly turned into a game when 3 little kids joined me for my jog.

The three little ones were sitting outside waiting for their mothers to finish the day’s work when they smiled at me passing by. The oldest one, who’d seen me running before began to run beside me, so I asked him if he wanted to race. He said yes and ran along side me, but we never set a finish line so the race continued for half a lap.

Soon his little sister and brother (maybe 6 and 5 years old) followed his example, and began running behind us. We must have looked pretty funny, the four of us running along in a line like little ducks. I laugh now just thinking about it—a 23 year old, a 10 year old and 2 kindergarten aged kids.

Since I had their full attention, I decided to make a game of it, and told the oldest boy “Ou lide. Nou swiv ou.” I think that means, “You leader. We follow you.” It must have been close enough because he started running in front. After a bit we picked another leader and went on like this. Of course I led them over logs and around a swing-set and under tree branches, but the little ones just ran straight and hard, as if they were finishing some army exercise.

In fact it reminded me of a running drill we did in high school. I think it’s called an Indian run. Anyway a whole team runs in a line and the last person runs to the front of the line, when she’s there, the new last person runs to the front, when she’s there the new last person does the same until you’ve finished running the assigned distance.

Anyway, the kids stuck with me for a good ten or fifteen minutes until their mothers came out. I don’t know if they felt like they had to keep playing or if they really were having fun. But as they left I told them, “Thanks for running with me,” and they got the biggest cutest smiles on their faces. Doing Indian running drills with Haitian kids may be one of my favorite little gifts God’s given me. :)

(I wrote this a while back, but haven't had a chance to publish it until tonight)

A quick Creole story

Last week my friend invited me to go to youth group with her. Just before we left she told me they could make me go up front and ask me to share a little bit. So I tried to think through what I might say. When we got there, sure enough, they asked me to share. They started to invite my friend to come with me to translate, but she said in Creole, "Oh no, she doesn't need me. She speaks Creole." I was terrified!

Despite my fear, I managed to go up and give a quick Creole introduction and a little testimony of how God brought me here. My language must not have been too bad because they asked me to share a meditation next week! Though I don't totally understand what they mean when they say meditation, I do know they'd like me to talk for 15 to 20 minutes.

If you could, pray for me as I prepare. Pray that I would know what to share and that God would help me as I write it out and translate it ahead of time. From what I could see, and what my friend has told me, the youth group is a tough crowd. They often talk amongst themselves during the lesson, and many of them don’t have a great attitude toward church in general.

I’m excited for the chance to share with them because I’ve been watching them in church each Sunday and have wanted to see them come to know God in a real way that excites them. But I am a littel intimidated to speak to a tough crowd in a new language.

feeling victorious

This past month I was 1 of 2 missionaries on the mission station in La Gonave. When I first arrived there were 8 missionaries here, but with injuries, maternity leave, fundraising, and the end of a term, all but two of us had outside obligations. I had only been in the country two and a half months when everyone had to leave, which may sound intimidating.

But actually, it was a neat rite of passage for me because I had to learn everything like: where the stores are located, what to do when I need a doctor, how to run a guest house, how to cook anything and everything from scratch (I make a mean potatoe soup), how drive a four-wheeler, how to speak Creole, how to catch a rat, what to do when the water filter breaks, how to fight a Haitian cough, how to have healthy boundaries, and how to graciously handle other people's needs. And I had to do it all with little advice or guidance from anyone except God. It was kind of cool because at times I knew my choice was cower in my house and cry or take a risk and conquer.

Tomorrow some of the other missionaries will be returning...Wohoo! And by September we will be back up to 7 missionaries. Though I'm excited, I wanted to take a minute just to mention how thankful I am for the past month. I'm feeling pretty victorious.