June 18th 2008

Blessed in order to bless.

Bethyl and I have been aware of getting a lot from God over the years. We’ve received a bountiful blessing after blessing. But our reading this morning, here gazing at the rugged, snowy Kyrgz mountains, is frosting on that range of blessing:

II Cor 1: 3-7. “And how does the Lord comfort us? He has a 1000 different ways and no one can tell by what way the comfort will come to his soul. Sometimes it comes by the door of memory and sometimes by the door of hope. Sometimes it is borne to us with the ministry of nature and at other times through the ministry of speech and kindness but always, I think, it brings to us a sense of a Presence as though we had a great Friend in the room with us, and the troubled heart gains quietness and peace. The mist clears a little, and we have a restful assurance of our God.

Now comforted souls are to be comforters. They who have received benefits of grace are to be benefactors. They who have heard the sweet music of God’s abiding love are to sing it again to others. They who have seen the glory are to become evangelists. We must not seek to hoard spiritual treasure. As soon as we lock it up we begin to lose it. A mysterious moth and rust take it away. If we do not comfort others our own comfort will turn again to bitterness; the clouds will lower and we shall be imprisoned in the old woe. But the comfort which makes a comforter grows deeper and richer every day.—JW Jowett, My Daily Meditation. June 18th.

June 21st 2008

FROM BETHYL JOY. In several hours we will leave the north of Kyrgyzstan, be taxied four hours south to Bishkek where we’ll spend a short night before leaving each other for the first time over these last 4 ½ weeks for different destinations. Our work with m-workers here has been very rewarding. From our first day in Kyrgyzstan we have been listening to story after story. At times as we’ve counseled people married from only two months to over two decades, some of these through interpreters, my eyes flood with warm tears, to be so privileged to listen and respond with the Spirit’s tugs and nudges. Thank You, Lord, for drawing His by Your Spirit, to serve you. Different languages never are the barriers between people, family members, nor nations. I am honored to be carrying the grief of these we’ve been entrusted to care for; I’m amazed at their tenacious love for the Lord through their unique thicks and thins.

Loving is costly; it always accompanies pain and suffering. How deep is the loss when you’ve loved deeply—for years—only to deceived and denied by even governments to continue blessing, loving the people in their nations. We’ve listened to the stories of “crushed” people, who scream their pain and anger for having to leave those they’ve loved and been loved by, and who are resiliently finding a path toward forgiveness, remaining faithful to the Faithful One “through it all.” This is the story again and again. How amazing to listen to newly weds, serving the King, who have been raised in the M-belief systems, and how their families have or are yet coming to know their Savior. God is working in the hard soil – His Truth IS marching on… Glory!


Compassion fatigue.

We taught our seminar on marriage and family wellness again this week. At one point, as we were presenting, I was waiting for what I said to be translated into Russian, and I thought “never in a million years could I have imagined this moment. My words are being translated for an audience to understand – in the Russian language!” What joy. What a privilege. All around us here the mother tongue of our children is being spoken. It’s delightful to understand “very, very little” of the language and it’s fun to speak the “very, very little” Russian I know.
We took a one-hour boat ride on Lake Issykul yesterday. All around us were families from the nations surrounding, who come to this area because it is simply outstandingly beautiful…many of the nations were the previous Soviet Union. One man offered to take our picture; later he asked me “where from?” I said, “California in the United States.” He said, “very nice” (rocking his arms around him) saying “very warm.” I smiled and said “yes.” He haltingly point out “my wife, my son, my good friend, good friend’s son, and my daughter in Almaty takes examinations in college. We come here every year. Beautiful.” He smiled when I said, “you speak good English.” Though the nations are still guarded, these people are living with freedoms that were unheard of just a few years back. I am knowing inside my skin what my head has known for a while now.

The last several days have been spent from early morning, through the day, until late in night, counseling. We have been being poured out. It’s what we came for. We are tired; we are not disappointed. We are so thankful that He has blessed us like this. It’s so good to give away what we’ve been given—from our talents and skills, to our life experiences, to the particular leading the Spirit has given. I say, “praise Him…from Whom all blessings flow!”

Mashed potatoes.

Last night the Argentine speaker to our 12 nation assemblage was warm and funny. He had a one main point. Our great enemy is not enmity—though there is plenty of that—but rather, indifference and independence. To this point he brought up a little tin plate of small, separated, boiled potatoes—a common food here. He said, these are nice potatoes. In a higher voice he said, “I am a little potato that loves Jesus. I love the other little potatoes, kind of. I have my little potato jacket. I have my nice warm field that was my field. I had my little patch of dirt that grew me—my patch. I had a nice little ministry to the other potatoes around me, with my eyes on them. Me, my, mine. Independent me.”

All this while Alejandro, the speaker, was putting a little salt on them. He was getting a fork out too. He mimicked the voice of a little potato who saw the fork coming, “oh no! don’t mash me! I don’t want to be mashed potatoes! I like being an independent little potato. I have my rights. I have my own self, my identity.” The fork came down and mashed long and hard in a cross-hatch pattern. Soon nothing was left of the individual little potatoes.

His point? There is no room for independence in the Body of Christ. Interdependence is mentioned many times in the Bible. Give, receive, take and bear one another’s burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ. The love of Christ impels and compels us to feel the griefs, pains, and vulnerabilities of our brothers and sisters. The deepening, widening experience of God’s love for me has natural consequences where we don’t resist this empathic mashing. This warm preferring of another before myself releases me from ethnic, economic, educational, racial biases. I don’t see slope-eyed peasants or factory workers through the eyes of benevolent superiority. I don’t pat Central Asian pastors on the shoulder with “good job” accolades that hide quiet feelings of being brighter, better, more valuable than that other person is to God. God is a dancer doing the Mashed Potato. We are beneath his feet.

Being Paved Over

This same man spoke of a plant from his own home country that was and is known for being exceptionally tough, resilient. It tolerates being beaten, cut, abused, stomped on, and even paved over. There are documented cases of it breaking through concrete from below. This is us. We are the Club of the Afflicted. We are those who have crossed the desert. If this experience is not yours yet, then be glad. Your time is coming. Your initiation into maturity is just around the corner.

Our experiences this past week with the Club of the Afflicted were sobering. Some of these folks had been tortured by the police. Nails had been driven through their arms. Feet had been lacerated. Men’s children and wives had been stalked. Businesses closed. Houses taken. Visas denied. One woman described her country for the past 14 years as having “vomited” her out of its borders. Raging tears, screaming, silent tears and head shaking, feelings of having been tricked by God, doubting of one’s faith. It was all a cauldron of intensity. But thru it all I experienced good overwhelming evil, faith trumping doubt. What a privilege to work with these folks!

At the end of the week the four of us member care workers were asked to stand. The 300 or so at the conference gave us a sustained handclap. People who had been blessed by our work, either with individual counseling or workshops or trainings were asked to stand. Over half stood up. Our hearts were blessed. This work alone made the whole trip worthwhile. Paved over peoples rising to praise God and persist even when persecuted. Kinda makes you like mashed potatoes.