This year has been a challenging year for my faith. At times I’ve felt lost, frustrated, angry, and defeated. I’ve been learning a lot, but in the last few weeks some of those lessons have finally culminated into truths I can cling to. Here’s a little snapshot of my journey.
In the midst of feeling sick for the 7th consecutive week, I kept coming across verses about victory.
"The Lord will rescue me from every evil attack and will bring me safely to His heavenly kingdom." 2 Timothy 4:18
"But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen and protect you from the evil one." 2 Thessalonians 3:3
"They will fight against you but will not overcome you, for I am with you and will rescue you, declares the Lord." Jeremiah 1:19
"...no weapon forged against you will prevail, and you will refute every tongue that accuses you." Isaiah 54:17
Lying in bed in a house in Florida while other missionaries covered my English classes and I watched my time in Haiti tick away, I felt anything but victorious. Yet these are the verses I read. These are the words people prayed over me. Could I possibly be winning even though I feel defeated? Can victory in Christ look like 2 months of bed rest?
I read a devotional by Oswald Chambers. "Have we come to the place where God can withdraw His blessings and it does not affect our trust in Him?"
Hmm. Can I trust Him? Do I trust Him? Again, having an unknown illness that made me too weak to fix my own breakfast was not exactly my idea of safety. Then again losing four friends in a year and living through the craziness of an earthquake weren’t on my list of life under God’s protection either. But they happened.
Was God still good through all that? Is God still good now? Who is God anyway?
I read the whole book of Job.
I read about Paul’s sufferings.
"Rather, as servants of God we commend ourselves in every way: in great endurance; in troubles, hardships and distresses; in beatings, imprisonments and riots; in hard work, sleepless nights and hunger; in purity, understanding, patience and kindness; in the Holy Spirit and in sincere love; in truthfulness of speech and in the power of God; with weapons of righteousness in the right hand and in the left; through glory and dishonor, bad report and good report; genuine yet regarded as imposters; known yet regarded as unknown; dying, and yet we live on; beaten, and yet not killed; sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; poor, yet making many rich; having nothing and yet possessing everything." 2 Corinthians 6:4-10
I read 2 Corinthians 11:23-12:10.
These two men, giants of faith, still clung to God’s goodness, preached God’s goodness. They lived honorable lives yet experienced terrible things. They served God yet they suffered. And ultimately they still saw God as all powerful and as loving.
Who am I to question God? What do I know about goodness?
I read the last two books of Job
"Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation? Tell me, if you understand. Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!" Job 38:4
and some verses in Psalms.
"He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul." Psalm 23:2-3
He must be good. He has to be good. Whether life stinks or life is awesome, I have to believe He is good.
I read another devotional by Oswald Chambers.
"Faith by its very nature must be tried, and the real trial of faith is not that we find it difficult to trust God, but that God's character has to be cleared in our own minds...Faith in the Bible is faith in God against everything that contradicts Him--I will remain true to God's character whatever he may do." Oswald Chamerbs My Utmost for His Highest
Friday, October 22, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
Illness and Identification
Sun poured into my kitchen windows, pushing the temperature in my house to tripple digits. A fan overhead hummed. A diesel generator outside moaned, and I turned over on the couch. A day before I'd discovered that if I lay on my right side, with my back toward the oscillating fan, the air might cool my neck long enough for me to catch a 20 minute nap.
And if it didn't work, I knew that if I just stayed still for the next 3 hours, the worst part of the day was over. So I'd lay there, listening to the hum-moaning and wait.
I did this off and on for 2 full weeks as my body fought off whatever little protozoa or bacteria had intruded into my intestines. And as I lay there I thought. Sometimes my thoughts were less than spiritual bursts of self-pity. "This really sucks. I hate this stupid country. Why can't I just sleep in an airconditioned house. I wish I could destroy that dumb generator."
But on other days, my thoughts walked out my front door and crossed the street to the Wesleyan Hospital, where on any given day 30 to 40 patients are lying in rooms much hotter than my living room, with nothing but a warm wind to blow on their backs. Is this what they feel like all the time?
I thought about their dirty sheets and the warm water they must drink, since most people don't have the luxury of a freezer or extra ice for drinks. These thoughts often led to self-depracating comments like, "Justine you're a big baby," and "You have no idea what suffering is."
They also led to prayers. "God comfort those people in the hospital. Heal their bodies. Guide the doctors and nurses. Help them know how to treat them." I wish I could say that living across the street from a 3rd world hospital leads me to pray prayers like this daily. I wish I could say I think often of the suffering of those who are always battling bouts of giardia, dengue fever, malaria, typhoid fever, and dysentery. And those who have no American haven to retreat to.
I wish I could tell you that I knew how extended sicknesses like this impact the income of already impoverished families and how lack of income leads to lack of food which leads to lack of strength and extended recovery time. I don't.
But during my bout with tropical illness, something amazing happened. I stopped pitying the poor and instead identified with them. "It's not fun to feel this weak. Boy I bet it's tough to earn a living if you're constantly battling sickness. Wow! I wonder if the people in the hospital actually sleep when it's hot like this." Though this alone isn't enough to change anything else, it is enough to change me. And that's a start.
And if it didn't work, I knew that if I just stayed still for the next 3 hours, the worst part of the day was over. So I'd lay there, listening to the hum-moaning and wait.
I did this off and on for 2 full weeks as my body fought off whatever little protozoa or bacteria had intruded into my intestines. And as I lay there I thought. Sometimes my thoughts were less than spiritual bursts of self-pity. "This really sucks. I hate this stupid country. Why can't I just sleep in an airconditioned house. I wish I could destroy that dumb generator."
But on other days, my thoughts walked out my front door and crossed the street to the Wesleyan Hospital, where on any given day 30 to 40 patients are lying in rooms much hotter than my living room, with nothing but a warm wind to blow on their backs. Is this what they feel like all the time?
I thought about their dirty sheets and the warm water they must drink, since most people don't have the luxury of a freezer or extra ice for drinks. These thoughts often led to self-depracating comments like, "Justine you're a big baby," and "You have no idea what suffering is."
They also led to prayers. "God comfort those people in the hospital. Heal their bodies. Guide the doctors and nurses. Help them know how to treat them." I wish I could say that living across the street from a 3rd world hospital leads me to pray prayers like this daily. I wish I could say I think often of the suffering of those who are always battling bouts of giardia, dengue fever, malaria, typhoid fever, and dysentery. And those who have no American haven to retreat to.
I wish I could tell you that I knew how extended sicknesses like this impact the income of already impoverished families and how lack of income leads to lack of food which leads to lack of strength and extended recovery time. I don't.
But during my bout with tropical illness, something amazing happened. I stopped pitying the poor and instead identified with them. "It's not fun to feel this weak. Boy I bet it's tough to earn a living if you're constantly battling sickness. Wow! I wonder if the people in the hospital actually sleep when it's hot like this." Though this alone isn't enough to change anything else, it is enough to change me. And that's a start.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Nouns and Adjectives
C.S. Lewis when describing the Fall of man in The Problem of Pain,writes, "They wanted to be nouns, but they were, and eternally must be, mere adjectives." He's speaking of our desire to be God when we are and will forever be man. But I love the analogy he uses.
Adjectives, as we all know have one main function: to modify or describe a noun in the sentence. They cannot stand on their own. They cannot be the subject or perform an action. Their single purpose is to describe the noun, to show us more about what the noun is like.
And the noun. The noun is the meat of the sentence. You can't have a sentence without a noun or pronoun. There can be no story or subject or setting if there is no noun. The noun is the point. There need not be adjectives if there is no noun.
Isn't this a beautiful picture? Our single purpose or role on earth is to describe the Noun. Show the world what He is like. We need not try to be the Subject of the story or the sentence. We can never be. The story would not make sense if we tried to make an adjective the subject. It breaks the basic laws of grammar.
Nor would our story make sense if we tried to make ourselves and not God the subject. It can never be about us. That would break a basic law of the universe.
So instead of pushing awkwardly into a grammatical place that does not belong to us, our role as believers is to be the best, most wonderful, beautiful adjectives that we can be that others might know more about the Noun through us.
Adjectives, as we all know have one main function: to modify or describe a noun in the sentence. They cannot stand on their own. They cannot be the subject or perform an action. Their single purpose is to describe the noun, to show us more about what the noun is like.
And the noun. The noun is the meat of the sentence. You can't have a sentence without a noun or pronoun. There can be no story or subject or setting if there is no noun. The noun is the point. There need not be adjectives if there is no noun.
Isn't this a beautiful picture? Our single purpose or role on earth is to describe the Noun. Show the world what He is like. We need not try to be the Subject of the story or the sentence. We can never be. The story would not make sense if we tried to make an adjective the subject. It breaks the basic laws of grammar.
Nor would our story make sense if we tried to make ourselves and not God the subject. It can never be about us. That would break a basic law of the universe.
So instead of pushing awkwardly into a grammatical place that does not belong to us, our role as believers is to be the best, most wonderful, beautiful adjectives that we can be that others might know more about the Noun through us.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Ezai's Going Home
It was Saturday afternoon when Diane Busch (the PA here) popped into my house with the biggest smile I've ever seen on her face. "Justine guess what! They found Ezai a home!"
I have tears in my eyes now as I remember that moment. Ezai has a home! The thought took a while to sink in. He'll have clean sheets, and pants to wear. He can eat every day, and he'll have a great family to love him.
Having spent the last several years of his life in the poor house in town, Ezai has never had the luxury of having more than his basic needs provided for. The poor house, which is aptly named, is home to about 18 people who live in two or three, dirt floored rooms and cook food in a pot on a fire outside. It is run by a sweet Haitian man with few resources, and most of the residents are elderly.
When you visit the poor house, Ezai, a 14 year old orphan with Cerebal Palsy stands out among the crowd. He is tall and thin, and his left foot is severely crippled. When he walks he kind of hobbles along, the front part of his ankle touching the ground, while his foot, bent awkwardly foward, follows behind. But the first thing you notice about Ezai isn't his handicap, but his smile.
Almost every time a visitor comes, Ezai races across the yard yelling happy sounds, and giving the newcomer the biggest hug ever. Though he cannot speak very well his smile says it all. Ezai is full of joy.
But his life is about to get much better. This year, after volunteering several times at the poor house, Diane Busch developed a special place in her heart for Ezai. She could see that this boy could not get the care he needed amongst the other residents at the poor house, and started to worry a bit for his health.
Then one day, on a plane ride to the US, Diane met a woman who had been working with an group home in Haiti for kids with Cerebal Palsy. She got off the plane with the woman's contact information and a renewed hope for Ezai. Now, less than two months later, the orphanage has contacted Diane to tell her that they have a place for Ezai!
God is sooo good to take care of his children! Pray for Diane as she works out the details for Ezai's big move. And pray for Ezai as he makes this transition. And praise God for the incredible way that He looks after widows and orphans.
I have tears in my eyes now as I remember that moment. Ezai has a home! The thought took a while to sink in. He'll have clean sheets, and pants to wear. He can eat every day, and he'll have a great family to love him.
Having spent the last several years of his life in the poor house in town, Ezai has never had the luxury of having more than his basic needs provided for. The poor house, which is aptly named, is home to about 18 people who live in two or three, dirt floored rooms and cook food in a pot on a fire outside. It is run by a sweet Haitian man with few resources, and most of the residents are elderly.
When you visit the poor house, Ezai, a 14 year old orphan with Cerebal Palsy stands out among the crowd. He is tall and thin, and his left foot is severely crippled. When he walks he kind of hobbles along, the front part of his ankle touching the ground, while his foot, bent awkwardly foward, follows behind. But the first thing you notice about Ezai isn't his handicap, but his smile.
Almost every time a visitor comes, Ezai races across the yard yelling happy sounds, and giving the newcomer the biggest hug ever. Though he cannot speak very well his smile says it all. Ezai is full of joy.
But his life is about to get much better. This year, after volunteering several times at the poor house, Diane Busch developed a special place in her heart for Ezai. She could see that this boy could not get the care he needed amongst the other residents at the poor house, and started to worry a bit for his health.
Then one day, on a plane ride to the US, Diane met a woman who had been working with an group home in Haiti for kids with Cerebal Palsy. She got off the plane with the woman's contact information and a renewed hope for Ezai. Now, less than two months later, the orphanage has contacted Diane to tell her that they have a place for Ezai!
God is sooo good to take care of his children! Pray for Diane as she works out the details for Ezai's big move. And pray for Ezai as he makes this transition. And praise God for the incredible way that He looks after widows and orphans.
She's Haitian
Today I walked to the bank with Merline. Motorcycles and rickety old trucks rumbled by on the dusty roads as we walked. In the span of our half mile walk, we stopped at least 4 times to speak with friends shaking their hands and giving hugs. This friendliness and built in social time may be one of my favorite parts of this culture.
We were both smiling as we started approaching the bank, and Merline looked at me and said, "Justine, you are very popular. Everyone wants to see you." We laughed, as Merline added, "You are Haitian."
About a second after she said that, a stranger sitting on the ground in the shade of the 2 story block bank building. Yelled, "Blanc! Blanc!" (white white) In an attempt to get my attention. Almost every time I walk down the street I hear this words which are almost always followed by a request for money or sometimes a vulgar comment.
It's not that being called white is offensive by itself. But the way it is used in the street often feels direspectful. My Haitian friends would never call for me like that, nor would my students, or the people attending the church. They may describe me as blanc or as the blanc which I don't mind, but they would never just say "White told me to do this." They would use my name.
Because of this, I generally don't respond to these calls and often times block them out entirely. This may sound silly, but being called Blanc in the street is one of my least favorite things about living here. It is also one of the things I have the least power to change. So I try to let the words roll off me every time.
But today, as the woman yelled these words at me, Merline turned to her and said, "Li pa blanc. Li se Aytian." (She's not white. She's Haitian.) What a neat compliment! Though she had just said the same thing to me seconds before, it meant a lot to me to hear Merline telling a perfect stranger that I am Haitian.
We were both smiling as we started approaching the bank, and Merline looked at me and said, "Justine, you are very popular. Everyone wants to see you." We laughed, as Merline added, "You are Haitian."
About a second after she said that, a stranger sitting on the ground in the shade of the 2 story block bank building. Yelled, "Blanc! Blanc!" (white white) In an attempt to get my attention. Almost every time I walk down the street I hear this words which are almost always followed by a request for money or sometimes a vulgar comment.
It's not that being called white is offensive by itself. But the way it is used in the street often feels direspectful. My Haitian friends would never call for me like that, nor would my students, or the people attending the church. They may describe me as blanc or as the blanc which I don't mind, but they would never just say "White told me to do this." They would use my name.
Because of this, I generally don't respond to these calls and often times block them out entirely. This may sound silly, but being called Blanc in the street is one of my least favorite things about living here. It is also one of the things I have the least power to change. So I try to let the words roll off me every time.
But today, as the woman yelled these words at me, Merline turned to her and said, "Li pa blanc. Li se Aytian." (She's not white. She's Haitian.) What a neat compliment! Though she had just said the same thing to me seconds before, it meant a lot to me to hear Merline telling a perfect stranger that I am Haitian.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Why Running?
I have a confession to make...My recent post about running, wasn't entirely about running. You see this whole summer while I was training, I kept thinking of spiritual parallels for my running endeavors. In Haiti, I was (and am) pretty stuborn. I don't like to "quit" or "slow down" or walk uphill. I'd rather run the whole time because I am after all on a run or as the Apostle Paul says in a race.
When Jenny told me I'd burn myself out if I ran up all the hills, I had flashbacks of myself in Haiti, scheduling up my free time and trying to go to every church service, youth group, prayer event, while teaching an english club for women and one for nurses...All this was my time off, and I wondered if Jenny's advice could apply even there.
On one of my favorite running routes, I start out going up the biggest hill of the course. Once at the top, I feel like a champ and know I can take the rest of the course just fine. But a lot of times when I run this course, I find myself on mile 5 with cramps in my legs and thoughts of quitting in my head.
The same thing happens when I start into a ministry. I want to do something awesome and huge right away so I can feel like a champ, but when I get to the end of my 11 month term, I have spiritual cramps and want to quit. What would it mean for me to take Jenny's advice, and walk uphill so I could make it to the end strong and steady?
"You have to eat and drink while you run," my little sister advised me as we talked about doubling my distance. It doesn't take much to make the connection between water and trail snacks to the Living Water and Bread of Life. If I run without water or a little snack, I can go pretty far (assuming I ate and drank enough before taking off), but if I eat and drink little bits while running, I can go further, many miles further.
I love this idea of refueling while running...A lot of times I'm great at preparing for ministry, reading the right books, listening to sermons, asking people to pray. And I'm pretty good at refueling afterwards, hiding out in my house, singing worship music, praying. But what would happen if in the midst of the ministry race I ate and drank the fuel I needed? How much further could I go?
Speaking of going further, there is an African proverb that says "If you want to go fast go alone. If you want to go far, go together." I've done a lot of running alone, and to be honest, I'm pretty good at it. I am self-disciplined and self-motivated. But it wasn't until my little sister ran with me and said, "You can go further than you think," that I really started to stretch myself as a runner...I went from a 6 or 7 mile personal record to 13 miles in just 3 months. Why?
My little sister didn't run with me every day. She didn't tell me what to do. She just encouraged me, and every once in a while ran beside me. There's something to be said for not doing it alone (it: running or life). And yes, sometimes it took a little longer for us to get going together than it would've taken alone (on the day of our big run Jenn waited 20 minutes for me to get out of bed), but in the end we both went further together.
How do I carry that concept of community into ministry? How do we carry that concept into life? Running beside those who are tired, encouraging those who are discouraged, teaching those who are stuck?
So I guess my recent post about running, wasn't really about running but it was all about running. I hope that I run the race well.
When Jenny told me I'd burn myself out if I ran up all the hills, I had flashbacks of myself in Haiti, scheduling up my free time and trying to go to every church service, youth group, prayer event, while teaching an english club for women and one for nurses...All this was my time off, and I wondered if Jenny's advice could apply even there.
On one of my favorite running routes, I start out going up the biggest hill of the course. Once at the top, I feel like a champ and know I can take the rest of the course just fine. But a lot of times when I run this course, I find myself on mile 5 with cramps in my legs and thoughts of quitting in my head.
The same thing happens when I start into a ministry. I want to do something awesome and huge right away so I can feel like a champ, but when I get to the end of my 11 month term, I have spiritual cramps and want to quit. What would it mean for me to take Jenny's advice, and walk uphill so I could make it to the end strong and steady?
"You have to eat and drink while you run," my little sister advised me as we talked about doubling my distance. It doesn't take much to make the connection between water and trail snacks to the Living Water and Bread of Life. If I run without water or a little snack, I can go pretty far (assuming I ate and drank enough before taking off), but if I eat and drink little bits while running, I can go further, many miles further.
I love this idea of refueling while running...A lot of times I'm great at preparing for ministry, reading the right books, listening to sermons, asking people to pray. And I'm pretty good at refueling afterwards, hiding out in my house, singing worship music, praying. But what would happen if in the midst of the ministry race I ate and drank the fuel I needed? How much further could I go?
Speaking of going further, there is an African proverb that says "If you want to go fast go alone. If you want to go far, go together." I've done a lot of running alone, and to be honest, I'm pretty good at it. I am self-disciplined and self-motivated. But it wasn't until my little sister ran with me and said, "You can go further than you think," that I really started to stretch myself as a runner...I went from a 6 or 7 mile personal record to 13 miles in just 3 months. Why?
My little sister didn't run with me every day. She didn't tell me what to do. She just encouraged me, and every once in a while ran beside me. There's something to be said for not doing it alone (it: running or life). And yes, sometimes it took a little longer for us to get going together than it would've taken alone (on the day of our big run Jenn waited 20 minutes for me to get out of bed), but in the end we both went further together.
How do I carry that concept of community into ministry? How do we carry that concept into life? Running beside those who are tired, encouraging those who are discouraged, teaching those who are stuck?
So I guess my recent post about running, wasn't really about running but it was all about running. I hope that I run the race well.
Friday, August 13, 2010
The Bubba Run
My little sister, Jenn, says for every mile you run (in a long run) it takes your body 1 day to recover. That means my body will be back to normal in 13 days.
Jenn and I took off this morning at 6:20 with the goal of going on my longest run ever. Just 3 months ago my PR for distance was 6.1 miles, and running 13 miles sounded both overwhelming and ridiculous.
At about 4 miles my knees and hamstrings would start to ache a little and by 5 I would fix my thoughts on making it home.
But one day, Jenn and I decided to go for a run together. We talked as we ran, and when we reached the corner I normally take toward home, I turned to her and said, "Do you think we can go further?"
We did. We went about 8 miles that day. I felt awesome.
When we ran together, we did a couple of things differently than I had done them on my own. For one we carried water. "You lose so much water when you run," Jenn had told me. "If you want to go far you have to carry water."
Jenn, who had also completed a 35 mile in the race also confronted my stubborn insistence that we run uphill. "Sometimes you have to walk or you'll burn all your energy right away," she told me. I'm sure I rolled my eyes the first time I heard.
On her 35 mile run, Jenn and all the other runners stopped frequently at feeding stations to grab a fourth of a peanut butter sandwich, some fresh fruit, or crackers. When we ran, we reached into Jenn's pockets and pulled out gummy snacks and pretzels. These few calories gave us enough of a boost to add on the extra miles at the end.
After we finished our 8 mile run I had asked Jenn what she thought about running to Grove City, a town about 13 miles from our front door. Cooly, and with the confidence of a seasoned athlete she agreed to do the run some time this summer.
Running this course became one of my personal goals for the summer. So each week I ran 3, 6, 8, and 10 mile routes,paying attention to what foods fuel me up for a run and which foods I crave after running. I pushed myeself to run further faster and ran til my big toes got callouses.
After 3 months of mostly solo training, Jenn and I took on the bubba route this morning. Running along a country road past cornfields and cow pastures and to my dad's office, we pushed through butt cramps, aching ankles, and sore knees. And in just 2 hours and 38 minutes we had done it. Downing some water and stretching my calfs out on Dad's filing cabinet, I thought to myself, "I bet we could go further."
Jenn and I took off this morning at 6:20 with the goal of going on my longest run ever. Just 3 months ago my PR for distance was 6.1 miles, and running 13 miles sounded both overwhelming and ridiculous.
At about 4 miles my knees and hamstrings would start to ache a little and by 5 I would fix my thoughts on making it home.
But one day, Jenn and I decided to go for a run together. We talked as we ran, and when we reached the corner I normally take toward home, I turned to her and said, "Do you think we can go further?"
We did. We went about 8 miles that day. I felt awesome.
When we ran together, we did a couple of things differently than I had done them on my own. For one we carried water. "You lose so much water when you run," Jenn had told me. "If you want to go far you have to carry water."
Jenn, who had also completed a 35 mile in the race also confronted my stubborn insistence that we run uphill. "Sometimes you have to walk or you'll burn all your energy right away," she told me. I'm sure I rolled my eyes the first time I heard.
On her 35 mile run, Jenn and all the other runners stopped frequently at feeding stations to grab a fourth of a peanut butter sandwich, some fresh fruit, or crackers. When we ran, we reached into Jenn's pockets and pulled out gummy snacks and pretzels. These few calories gave us enough of a boost to add on the extra miles at the end.
After we finished our 8 mile run I had asked Jenn what she thought about running to Grove City, a town about 13 miles from our front door. Cooly, and with the confidence of a seasoned athlete she agreed to do the run some time this summer.
Running this course became one of my personal goals for the summer. So each week I ran 3, 6, 8, and 10 mile routes,paying attention to what foods fuel me up for a run and which foods I crave after running. I pushed myeself to run further faster and ran til my big toes got callouses.
After 3 months of mostly solo training, Jenn and I took on the bubba route this morning. Running along a country road past cornfields and cow pastures and to my dad's office, we pushed through butt cramps, aching ankles, and sore knees. And in just 2 hours and 38 minutes we had done it. Downing some water and stretching my calfs out on Dad's filing cabinet, I thought to myself, "I bet we could go further."
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