Just a Girl

That year when shock
was all that we could feel
as Christmas Day turned into
grief and questions,
I should have known
that God can use death, too,
to send a message.
Stunned, I doubted.

Dad prayed his lament:
“Lord, why Jim? you know
his work has only begun!
Please send someone 
to carry on, to reach
the unreached Nyarafolo!”
I felt God squeeze my heart.
But I doubted.

“I’m just a girl! You can’t
be choosing me for that!”
I must be silly to even think
that happened, I thought,
and hid it all away.
If only I’d remembered Mary’s
sweet response of faith:
“May it be so!”

The year that I turned 13 had been a phase of much deeper spiritual growth for me. I had realized that my childhood practice of waffling between following the Shepherd and going my own way had put me in a tenuous position, and at Easter I had vowed to be a devoted Jesus follower forever.

But on Christmas morning, all the missionaries were shocked when Jim Gould died in a car accident no one could explain. He was coming home from Pisankaha, the village where the first five Nyarafolo believers lived, having dropped them off there after the festivities at church in town. His car suddenly rolled over three times – no other car involved – and he died. His family (in the featured photo) were those hit hardest. But Jim (“Uncle Jim” to us kids at the time) was loved and respected by all. He had been working on learning Nyarafolo for just three years, and had been discipling those Pisankaha believers. The missionaries working in Ferke gathered in my family’s house with Lois and her kids, Lori and Greg, to pray.

I was the big girl and was put in charge of the younger kids, keeping them out of the way to protect the prayer space. Once they were absorbed in play I crept back behind the adults to listen. I had practically idolized Uncle Jim, who was fun and kind and was loved by the missionary team. When my dad followed the others with his prayer of lament, begging God to send someone to continue working among the Nyarafolo, my heart did feel an unforgettable nudge. That can’t mean anything, I thought. I’m just a girl.

Twelve years later when my husband Glenn and I were appointed as missionaries, we told the mission we would go anywhere that they felt we were most needed. I had a degree in journalism; Glenn was a medical technologist. They said that of their five hospitals around the world, the only one that had requested a med tech was the one in Ferke, where I had grown up. And then I knew that the nudge I had felt that Christmas had not been imagined. There was still no missionary learning Nyarafolo. Those continuing to teach the believers in Pisankaha all had to depend on translators. I told Glenn this history, and about the prompting I had felt; he immediately knew that it was a message from God, too.

God does choose whoever he wants, to serve in whatever way he has decided – even just a girl! I’ve tried to pass that truth on to other young people as well as adults of any age. It may be to do mission, or it may be to choose a different career path or to volunteer in some way. Who knows? Only the One in charge of the universe knows. And we can trust him to equip his servant to do whatever he asks them to do.

Mary found that out. While meditating on her story during this Christmas season I have been touched again and again by her humble response to the astonishing message that the angel brought. What was ahead would take a miracle! But she acknowledged her position as the Lord’s servant and said she would accept whatever the Master desired: “May it be so!”

Her faith in her Master’s purpose and his ability to accomplish it is stunning. She was, after all, “just a girl,” probably in her mid-teens. The story did not unfold in the way she expected, with all the twists and turns and difficulties involved. But she had said her “Amen,” a kind of signing over of her plans into the Master’s hands. And he brought her through it all.

When we were translating the Scriptures into Nyarafolo, my team and I realized that their borrowed word “Amiina” (Amen) had become a rote response to whenever someone said “Hallelujah,” or it acted like a period at the end of a prayer. Maybe it has become like that for many of us. It comes from a Hebrew verb meaning “truly, certainly,” and in the Greek New Testament was usually translated as “so be it.” It is a strong affirmation of what has been said. I kept hearing Nyarafolo believers saying “Ki- taa ki puu bɛ” before their “Amiina,” and realized that it was their traditional way of affirming what they had prayed, putting it into the Lord’s hands, because the phrase means “May it be so!” It was their true “Amen.”

This should be our response to whatever the Lord inspires us to be and do. If he asks it, it is possible. Our part is to humbly affirm his goodness and his right to reveal the way forward: “Yes! I will truly do as you say; I will let you have your way in me!” Looking back at the life mission the Lord had in mind when he nudged the heart of a girl named Linnea, I am deeply grateful that he found a way to make his message plain as time went on. His grace (“unmerited favor”) is evident in many parts of my story. How do you see this in what he has done in and through you? Recognizing such things, let’s exclaim along with Mary, “My soul glorifies the Lord and my heart rejoices in God my Savior, for he has been mindful of the humble estate of his servant” (Luke 1:46-48 NIV). He asked much more of Mary than he does of us, but he does have a plan for each one of his beloved servants. He is a good, good Father, a loving Master, and he uses even those who are insignificant in the world’s eyes to accomplish his purposes.

Advent: A Long Obedience

When waiting is by candlelight,
indoors and warm, the flame untouched
by screaming wind and freezing rain outside,
it is delightful!
My heart is called to yearn, lovingly,
ribboned and gilded with signs of the season,
for my Lord to come.
Advent.

Her waiting was by moonlight,
unless the search for shelter was
accomplished in winter storm,
fueling her panic
as the pains increased, clenched her body, 
brought his coming inexorably closer, 
scared her! This birthing was
Promise,
that she knew, but the world
would trivialize its portent, 
choosing coldly to stay
disengaged,
safely uninvolved. It troubled her.
Would God himself allow the birth 
to come outdoors in darkness,
in the cold?
One family stepped beyond their door
to see the aching, feel the need.
They stepped inside the story, opened up
their stable –
the one room left, not much at that,
but shelter and a resting place.
The baby came, earth-shattering
in the quiet.
“God has lifted up the lowly ones,
those viewed as insignificant!”
Mary would have remembered
her song,
and Elizabeth’s blessing on her,
the one who was trusting God
to do what he had promised her,
Mary!

We never know how God will take
what seems to be just accident
and make it a fulfillment of
his Grand Plan.
Now, waiting is not only for
the feast of lights, friends gathering,
the songs and laughter. Yes, it is
much more:
the wait is for my readiness 
to stay engaged, prepare the way
for Christ to enter this dark world.
Advent!

In December 1977 I was in my ninth month of pregnancy, waiting for the day when my firstborn child, a girl, would be in my arms. My belly had swollen so large that when I was in the mall, Christmas shopping, people often turned to take another look at me. One stranger walked up and put her hand on the round apex of my “waist,” exclaiming in wonder that this baby would be coming soon!

I truly hoped so. She was due December 16th, but that day came and went. I was distressed. Would she come on Christmas Day? That would be terrible! I would miss the family celebration, and she would have to deal with a holiday birthday for the rest of her life. But I could only wait and see.

That year the 25th would arrive on Sunday. On Wednesday night, the 21st, Glenn and I went to church to celebrate the Advent of Jesus with our community at Highland Park Baptist Church. Pastor George Slavin centered his message around what this week might have been like for Mary as she approached her due date. The Emperor’s decree that all Jews register for the census (probably to increase taxes) meant that Joseph and Mary had to do it in the place where their ancestral property divisions were located, the clan of David’s region in southern Judea. They were living in Nazareth, about 85 miles north of the Bethlehem area. Could it be that God would allow this forced voyage to take place just as his Son was due to be born? It had to be against all the couple’s expectations. Neither of the angel’s announcements to Mary or to Joseph would have led them to think that the plans for a safe, normal childbirth in their home was not going to happen. In Nazareth, Mary would have been able to count on the help of local community midwives or women in her family. Now, she would spend days traveling south. They probably joined a caravan of people heading that way. She might have been on a donkey for three days or more.

I was listening to the pastor’s detailed explanations, empathizing with Mary in a way I never had before. What would it feel like to ride a donkey for days with this heavy, active load in my body? How would the pulsating rhythm of trotting hooves jerk it back and forth? And what would it be like to wonder if the baby might then be born while in the company of all those fellow travelers rather than in the comfort of my home? Here in Michigan I was facing a totally different scenario. I would be going to Beaumont Hospital, where my dad had done his surgical residency, where my mother was currently working as a nurse to refresh her training, and where I had worked for three summers during college. I did not have to ride a donkey or walk to get there. My fears of a December 25th delivery faded into a quiet acceptance of a special treat I might be experiencing: an opportunity to empathize with Mary by giving birth on the very day that we remember her doing so, even if in very different circumstances.

And that was what happened. We had to navigate a blizzard on Christmas Eve, but I had family all around waiting with me until it was time to go by car to the hospital. Giving birth to this big baby was a challenge way beyond what I had expected, but I had expert help, and when she came on Christmas Day, she was healthy and lovely.

Oh Mary! You had no vehicle to carry you smoothly along, and there was not even room in the inn, or the guest house that relatives must have had in Bethlehem. But there was a space that was opened up for you; you were not out on the street. Your struggle to let that baby enter the world took place without sterile equipment or a comfortable bed. And one would have expected a totally different birthplace for a coming King!

It had to be a long journey of obedience for that couple. The angel had told Mary that she would become pregnant by God’s own action, not by a husband, and she was to name the baby “Jesus” which means “Yahweh saves” (Luke 1:31). She agreed to do what God wished; she was the Lord’s servant. Her fiancé wanted to annul the marriage agreement when he found out she was pregnant, but an angel told him to accept the fact that the Holy Spirit had made her conceive; that he was to marry her and call the baby “Jesus”(Mat 1:21). Joseph obeyed. They both had been told he would be the Savior, King forever. Now this? Nothing was happening as one would have thought. But here he was, in their arms. They named him Jesus, then waited to see how this would play out.

The Lord gave corroboration through the angels’ message to the shepherds and their excited arrival to welcome the Messiah. Later, the baby’s royalty was confirmed by the visit of the Magi. foreigners bringing gifts to the newborn king who was worthy of worship—no ordinary prince!

But there had to be moments, hours, days of wondering how God could be writing the plot this way. It was not an easy road, but rather one full of unexpected twists and dangers. They even became refugees, saving the child from murder!

Joseph and Mary are definitely more than an object lesson for us, but we sure can learn from their devoted obedience. Even though the unexpected was becoming the new “normal,” they did what the Lord told them. Having angels bring direct messages had to be a solid indication that the Lord was still in charge, but then each time the path was unexpected and accompanied by suffering.

Am I ready to trust the Lord’s sovereignty and wisdom, even when I don’t understand why he is not making the way ahead an easy one? Am I his loyal servant, ready to do what he tells me to do? I don’t get a visit from an angel, but his Word is in my hands, his Spirit in my heart. He prompts me to follow his ways, to act in accordance with his teachings.

I am reminded of the imagery in Eugene Peterson’s book A Long Obedience in the Same Direction. As we follow through with our Lord’s instructions, we are also preparing the way for the King. And we long for him to be the one and only Ruler of the world, healing all its brokenness and doing away with evil forever. It is a worthwhile wait, and an active one rather than a passive one. Like it was for those selected to care for the incarnate Messiah, doing what was given them to do. And our good, loving Lord does not view this lightly. He left us with encouragement: “Look, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to each person according to what they have done” (Rev. 22:12 NIV).

Amen! Come, Lord Jesus!

Prayer Like Waves

I’ve been crying out to you,
my Lord, my Father, my King,
over and over and over,
my prayers like waves rolling in
to crash and humbly recede 
into the mass of other currents,
a myriad of prayers.

This one overwhelming longing
keeps roiling in, longing, hoping.
I bring it before you, daily,
begging for an answer--
not just any answer, Lord,
I’m longing for you to come through
and do what you can do!

Remember: I am the Shepherd,
and I love all my sheep!
So just hang on! Trust my goodness,
my infinite wisdom, my ingenuity!
Know that I will answer you
when the right time has come,
and you will be amazed!

I’ve been meditating on the angel Gabriel’s first words to Zechariah, written in Luke 1:13 (NIV): “Do not be afraid, Zechariah; your prayer has been heard.”

Let’s stop there for a moment. What prayer had been heard? Right then Zechariah was representing all the Hebrew worshipers of Yahweh. The burning of incense in the temple and had to be done twice daily, and symbolized the prayers of the entire nation. The incense altar stood before the curtain to the Most Holy Place where the ark of the covenant was placed, so the smoke entered there beyond the curtain like prayers rising to Yahweh, the Lord.

This offering in the temple preceded the morning sacrifice and followed the evening sacrifice. It is said that the officer who ministered regularly in the temple signaled the time to begin the offering and then withdrew; the priest cast incense on this altar, prostrated himself and then withdrew himself—normally immediately (cf. 1:21).[1]

This responsibility was extremely significant. There were so many priests eligible to have the privilege of burning the incense at that time in history that the Levites were divided into 24 divisions, each division serving and allotment of two weeks at the temple. Of that group, just one priest was chosen by lot to burn the incense at one of those daily times. A priest could only be chosen once in his lifetime, to give others the same opportunity. Many never would have the chance to be chosen at all. [2]

So when Zechariah entered the Holy Place to do this precious service, he had waited his whole life for this moment. He was representing all of his people, and was probably prostrate in prayer when suddenly the angel appeared right there by the altar of incense. Of course he was startled; he should have been the only person there. And this was obviously a messenger from the Lord. He needed the calming words: “Don’t be afraid!” But what did the angel mean by saying that his prayer had been heard?

Maybe Zechariah had been praying for the son that he and his wife had longed for. She had never had a child at all, and they were old. Everyone thought it impossible in that phase of life, although the Lord had done such miracles for the aged in the Old Testament. Perhaps his prayer was also for the suffering nation, which was being ruled by a heathen empire and longed for liberty and justice. God had promised them a Messiah, a Chosen One who would deliver them and usher in a whole new era in which he would rule. Was it even possible for either of those requests to be granted?

What the angel told Zechariah was an answer to both those prayers! He and his wife were going to have a baby. After all the shame of those years of no children, Elizabeth was going to be pregnant and have a son. Not only that: he was going to be the one sent to get the people ready for the Lord’s coming!

Zechariah had prayed as a true follower of his Lord. He and his wife were righteous, devoutly obeying all the Lord’s commands (1:6). Part of his priestly duty was prayer, interceding for the people as well as worshiping God. But now he was stunned. He needed proof. It was not enough for him that this message from God was being delivered to him by Gabriel, this outstanding and astonishing messenger from heaven. He did not really believe that his prayer could be answered! As a result, Gabriel told him he would not be able to talk until his son was born.

This consequence of nine months of silence definitely gave him time to reflect on his lack of faith, especially as it became clear that Elizabeth was pregnant after all, and when John was born, that he was already filled with the Holy Spirit. As he grew, everyone was astonished at his gifting (Luke 1:66). Zechariah’s song, his prophecy (Luke 1:67-69), shows that he had realized that God’s promises over the centuries were actually happening, right before his eyes. He truly believed it all, now!

I’ve been in that same place of crying out to the Lord to answer a certain prayer for years and years, growing less than confident that it would be answered. Maybe you have been there, too. When the waiting is so long, it is easy for faith to become feeble. In fact, the prayer might become just a rote repetition of words with no expectation of result, whether we realize it or not.

Israel had had to wait during 400 years of slavery in Egypt before being delivered. Hundreds of years had continued to pass, with all sorts of ups and downs as the people gave up on God and turned to other sources of what they thought would be help. He kept calling them back, even though they were so recalcitrant. Now, finally, Zechariah knew that the critical moment of change was coming, and that his son was going to play a part in it. That was worth the wait!

Contemplating on Zechariah’s situation has underlined the real danger we face of not trusting our completely good, loving and sovereign Father to accomplish his purposes. His way of acting is often way beyond our imagination, and it usually takes time. Waiting is tough, and we may not see all the answers to our prayers in our lifetimes. God is not a puppet to be manipulated. The prophets had prayed for his deliverance for centuries, urging the people to be faithful to God and trust his plan. Only a few of them actually saw the Messiah enter the world – and what joy that brought, even though they understood little of how he would actually bring about deliverance!

Let’s burn that incense of prayer in our hearts, we who are now in the priesthood of believers (1 Peter 2:5,9) worshiping the Almighty One, and interceding and pleading with him with actual trust in his wisdom!

[1] Keener, C. S. (2014). The IVP Bible Background Commentary: New Testament (Second Edition, p. 179). Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic: An Imprint of InterVarsity Press.

[2] Marshall, I. H. (1994). Luke. In D. A. Carson, R. T. France, J. A. Motyer, & G. J. Wenham (Eds.), New Bible commentary: 21st century edition (4th ed., p. 982). Leicester, England; Downers Grove, IL: Inter-Varsity Press.

So Many “Buts,” and Yet . . .

Nazareth
Insignificant,
     but she’d been chosen!
Just a girl,
     but “highly favored”!
Not yet married, 
     but soon a mother!
Never slept with a man,
     but now pregnant!

Thoughts kept swirling
     but one was recurring:
Elizabeth was married
     but had always been barren
Until now, the angel said –
     but could it be?
The journey was long
     but Mary took the trek.

Now, another confirmation
     but this time unexpected:
the unborn child testified
     but not with words!
He leaped, Spirit-filled
     but not yet vocal.
Elizabeth felt the joy
     and shared the truth!

I had never realized how isolated a town Nazareth is — see the photo above, taken in 2005 when we visited Israel. Nor had I known how long a journey it would have been for Mary to go visit her relative Elizabeth, whose home was probably in the hill country of Judea, between 80 and 100 miles away. She would have walked for four or five days to get there, and even if she accompanied a caravan it probably took three days. She had to be truly desperate to follow up on the angel’s news and be with this trustworthy person who was also experiencing a miraculous pregnancy, though of a different kind. Maybe she would understand![1]

And yes, there was the startling exclamation from Elizabeth as soon as she saw Mary. The angel that had appeared to Zechariah had said that the baby would be filled with the Holy Spirit before he was born (Luke 1:15)! When he leaped within her in a whole new way as Mary entered the house, Elizabeth was also filled with the Spirit and spoke truth that she could not have already heard (no phones or email back then!): that Mary was pregnant and the mother of Elizabeth’s Lord, blessed because of her faith that the Lord would do what he had promised (Luke 1:41-45)!

I’ve always been startled that Mary then burst into song, or at least a poetic testimony, in response. How did she put that all together? Maybe that long trip south had been a time for deep reflection.

The song’s first theme is Mary’s personal praise of God, her Savior. She recognizes her own insignificance, a young maiden without social status, but somehow noticed and honored by God himself. She calls herself a bondslave to him (“servant” in most English translations), offering herself wholly to him for his purposes. And for her, this is not a denigrating term but one that shouts out special standing with the Mighty One. An observant Jew, she will not pronounce his name, YHWH, but acknowledges how powerful and holy he is, and that he has done so much for her that his blessing will be evident throughout history (1:46-49)! Maybe her wonder could be compared to the awe one might feel today of being chosen by the President or Prime Minister of a country to be on his staff, with a unique assignment. But her position meant even more than that, so Mary goes on to point out how great her King is and what astounding things he has done (1:50-55).

She was probably just a young teenager. How did she know so much Scripture? She obviously had learned not only the key stories of her nation’s history but also the deeply meaningful truths about God’s character, displayed through his acts.

When you read her song, you will probably note in your Bible that there are cross-references to some psalms. Genesis and 1 Samuel.  They refer to allusions rather than to actual quotes, but Mary’s familiarity with those Old Testament texts shows up in her wording. I had suspected that girls and women would not have had as much exposure to the Scriptures as men in those days, but most researchers agree that girls were taught at the synagogue along with boys during what would be considered grade-school years in our age; after that they were expected to help at home. and only the best-performing boys would even continue to the higher levels. So she had been taught her people’s history, much of God’s Word and had probably memorized part of the Torah. Women also freely attended Sabbath worship in the synagogue back in the first century[2].

It strikes me that Mary not only went to school and attended the services but also absorbed the teaching into her heart.  She believed and followed the God who speaks, and now he had spoken to her. That long trip from Nazareth to the hills of Judea probably served as time to process the angel’s words, the evidence of a new life in her womb, and what she knew God had said and done that had been preserved in the Scriptures. She was particularly fascinated by the way God had cared for the downtrodden, the hungry and the “humble,” all of whom were of low social status, like her. God had dislodged the arrogant rulers from their positions; these actions brought hope. He was showing his mercy to Abraham and his descendants forever, in keeping with his covenant.

In the use of the word “mercy” in our translations one can see the effect of the language transfers that would have been involved in the final version of Mary’s “song.” It most likely had been spoken in Hebrew, then translated to Greek. Many references note that “mercy” in this text is a translation of the word hesed in Hebrew: God’s “unfailing love.” The evidence of this love, and God’s promise to extend it to each generation (1:50. 54.55), meant everything to Mary: it included her. The One who had helped those who respected him, and those who were neglected, was the same reliable Mighty One who had deigned to choose her to carry his Son.

There is lots of socio-political commentary in her words; after all, this child was going to be King. Everything would be changed under his rule. At the same time, even before that would happen, Mary knew she could trust God to do what he promised to do. He had done it in the past, and he would be doing it now, for her and for the nation.

We can trust this forever King to keep his promises to us, too. Mary was blessed, but instead of bragging about it she chose to boast about how great her God is and to praise him for his faithful love. Those of us who have responded to God’s calling, and are blessed in knowing him, need to take Mary and her humility as our model. We must acknowledge that he has done great things for us (1:49), yielding our entire selves to him to be his completely devoted servants – his bondslaves. This is indeed a tremendous blessing, to be all his, letting him accomplish his purposes through us.

Mary was indeed chosen for a unique purpose and experienced a miracle far beyond anything she could have imagined. As we know, this son would be the Way, the Truth and the Life, and through him alone people can come into God’s family. At this stage in her story, Mary knew very little about that, but she did know that she could trust the Mighty One, her God, to do what he had said he would. And he is the same yesterday, today and forever!

[1] Grigoni, Michael R., Miles Custis, Douglas Mangum, Matthew M. Whitehead, Rebecca Brant, John D. Barry, and Elizabeth Vince. 2012. Mary: Devoted to God’s Plan. Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press.

[2] That the World May Know: with Ralph Vander Laan. “Rabbi and Talmudim” https://www.thattheworldmayknow.com/rabbi-and-talmidim

She Was Expecting!

Soon he would arrive!
She felt expectant joy
leaping in her soul
in response to the leaping
of the little one inside her,
the unexpected treasure.

That baby in her womb
was moving now, stretching out
to test the contours of this home,
the strength of legs and feet.
She sang a psalm to him
and he went quiet, listening.

Waiting was a gift of time
to contemplate the miracle
the angel had predicted:
she was chosen, highly favored,
as the vessel that would carry
God’s own Son into the world.

The forever king was coming!
How could it be? She would wait
and see, confident that
this was indeed God’s doing.
The Most High himself
was with her – Gabriel’s words!

I love the season of Advent. It is indeed a time set aside to contemplate the wonder of God’s love: gifting himself to us in human form, carrying the name “Jesus.” There is no way we can truly comprehend the significance of that baby’s entry into the world. It was cataclysmic, totally extraordinary, unexpected in spite of the prophecies that had foretold the event. No one expected their King of Kings to come this way.

And there was Mary, supported by her fiancé, now her legal husband, who also had been directed by an angel to be Mary’s protector in this sensitive situation. Her cousin Elizabeth confirmed that this pregnancy was supernatural. And the song that Mary sang in response (Luke 1:46-55) shows that she had been meditating on God’s promises throughout the Scriptures. She had the words of the angel, and the written Word, giving her assurance. But she really had only the vague outlines of what this son’s coming meant. What did others think? Did they even have an inkling of the truth about what was about to happen?

Probably not. And that laid-back ignorance is what this merry Christmas season all too often reflects today as well. The majority of people around the world who observe the holiday love the decorations, the jolly music and the exquisite lights. Gift-giving is a way to show love, and gathering together encourages friendships and family closeness. All good stuff! I love it too. But the precious miracle that birthed it all is viewed as a kind of folk tale or mythology, more distant than the fun of Santa Claus and reindeer.

In spite of that, the Truth remains, and we hold on to it with joy. This wait that constitutes Advent is not like the long waits that we often deal with in the rest of life, the ones that make us cry out: “How long, Lord?” Those require much growth in faith and perseverance, through hard personal struggles or in distress at the chaos in the world. In contrast, as we wait during Advent we remember God’s goodness and the amazing means he took to come to our rescue.

When our children were young we adopted the practice of lighting four candles in an Advent wreath, each on its designated Sunday, with a fifth one lit on Christmas day. Along the way we adapted the tradition to be a daily reminder of our wait for the coming of our Lord by lighting the candle for that week at each supper and singing “O Come, O Come Emmanuel.” With time, we learned the symbolism of the four candles that are lit each Sunday before Christmas Day:

               1: hope – the prophets predicted Messiah’s coming, with expectancy

               2: faith—prophecy involves faith that God will do what he said he would, such as Micah’s prediction that the birthplace would be Bethlehem

               3: joy – a reminder that Jesus came for those who are humble, ready to receive him; his coming was also heralded by the angels as a message of great joy

               4: peace – as the angels said, Jesus came to bring peace, bringing people into a right relationship with God and with each other

               5: light and purity – on Christmas Day we remember that the Light of the World has come!

We thought that the three purple candles were the first ones lit, then the pink one on the fourth Sunday, with the white one being for Christmas Day. It turns out that most traditions light the pink one on the third Sunday, since that color traditionally symbolizes joy. And not everyone uses the fifth white candle.

What is important is that we take advantage of this opportunity to be constantly reminded that our Rescuer did come as God had promised, and that knowing him gives us confident hope and thriving faith. We can turn our attention to the Light that reveals God’s true heart and his great plan, being filled with deep joy as we remember his astounding self-sacrifice and the promise that it gives us of life forever with him. All of this changes the atmosphere around us to expectancy.

I am reminded of when I was nearing the last month of pregnancy, eagerly awaiting the birth of our son Bryn in 1986. We were in Ferkessédougou, Côte d’Ivoire, and I had prepped his big sisters, Marisa (almost 9) and Ariane (5), about the processes that would go along with giving birth. One day when I opened the upper door of a cupboard, a small gecko fell off the door and into the scooped neck of my maternity dress, scurrying down my body to land on the floor. I shrieked, wondering if it might be a scorpion. The girls came running to me, grinning, thrilled: “Are your waters breaking, Mom???” I had to laugh. “No, that gecko just fell into my shift and I was scared!” I have never forgotten the excitement of their hope. They could hardly wait for that baby to arrive!

That is the kind of joyful expectancy we can cultivate during this season, eager for Messiah to show himself ever more clearly to each one of us as we remember the wonder of his coming, and are reminded that he is coming again!

Picture Her Emerging!

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Picture her emerging
wrung-out soul
new-bodied
whole
entering Light
breathing Air
	strong
		delicious
			free
	strong
	 	sustaining
oxygen-hunger
left behind
with
shrinking bones
and all the
	long
		weakness
	
	long
		waiting

She lifts hands high
(no more
trembling)
laughing voice
full of strength and
	song
		tripling
			joy
	song
		rippling
 
She’s running
meeting loved ones
painted indelibly
in her heart
lost
and missed
	gone 	
               before
	now	
	       new-found

She’s wrapped by
arms finding
precious wife,
Beloved Elva,
Mom, sister --
she whirls
and pearled tears 
	run rivers
		down
	cheeks blushing 	
for joy

And then
she sees
Jesus coming –
worlds 
swirl and stop –
centering . . .
He holds her close,
wipes
the wet away
cups her chin
smiles with delight
	dawn
              Sonlight
	            glows
	dawn
              forever

This is how I imagine a scene that took place in heaven yesterday. True, I wasn’t there. But I know that Mom Boese entered there, because she truly loved her Lord and longed to be with him, and he loved her and had shepherded her all her long 100 years of life on earth. I can only imagine . . .

Her husband, Ralph, preceded her there by 10 years. And two of her children are already there: Dan and Diane, the two on the left in the photo (taken 18 years ago). She longed to be re-united with all of them, too.

The confidence we have that our Lord will receive us in this way changes death into the gateway to a wonderful new life.

Jesus himself said, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?“ (Jn. 14:1 NIV)

And Paul explained: “So just as sin ruled over all people and brought them to death, now God’s wonderful grace rules instead, giving us right standing with God and resulting in eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” (Rom. 5:20 NLT)

It breaks my heart that so many people have no such hope of life forever in that special place, in the company of our Lord. Many picture us becoming a part of the universe, the starry sky. Others say it is all over, a complete end of everything. This lack of hope shows up all over the world.

Mom and Dad Boese came to Côte d’Ivoire twice, spending several months each time. They adapted beautifully and learned to love the people there. Ever since, Mom has prayed for the Nyarafolo constantly, especially for our houseworker, Sikatchi, who she had helped train in our style of housekeeping. They had developed a very special attachment, so it was not a surprise that when we asked that a Nyarafolo name be chosen for her, it was “Siɛncɛnwɛ,” which means “beautiful person.” They shared no common language, but actions, kindness and facial expressions speak volumes. That smile!

One of the things she excelled in was saying “Thank you!” I remember hearing that response in many circumstances, but especially in her last days of her life, when she was still lucid. Whatever any of us did to help her, we heard “Thank you!” It was one of the characteristics that made her a “beautiful person.”

Names matter more to the Nyarafolo than they do to most of us in American culture. Every name has a carefully chosen meaning. In our early days there, I asked my closest Nyarafolo friends to choose a name for me, since “Linn” was unknown to them, and many were calling me just “madame.” Saly, a close friend, consulted other women, and they named me “Penyuɔnɛkuɔ.” When I asked the meaning they told me that it says that after you help people, they forget to be grateful.  “Really?” I said. “I wanted a good name!”  “It is a good name,” they assured me. “It’s so true!”

It took me a while to realize that it is like a proverb, which is loved in that culture, and that it appears all over in the Bible. I began to write my name next to verses that underlined how often we humans forget what we owe to our Rescuer, and are ungrateful. Israel often forgot and turned away from him; this led to disaster. So the Lord said: “I brought you into a fertile land to eat its fruit and rich produce. But you came and defiled my land and made my inheritance detestable.” (Jer. 2:7 NIV)

We are often so wrapped up on our own plans that we forget to even thank our Rescuer, our Healer, like the nine men that Jesus cleansed of their skin disease or leprosy, who ran off to rejoin their community without acknowledging who had healed them at all. Only one man returned to thank Jesus, falling down before him, when he realized the healing that had taken place (Luke 17:12-19).

Do we forget to be grateful to God for all he has done for us? It is all too easy to fall into that trap. So today I want to thank him for the gracious favor he gave me in this mother-in-law named Elva Boese.

The gift of her son, Glenn, is the first thank-you that I owe her. I am so glad that she raised him to be responsible and loving, and encouraged him to be a cook! She truly accepted me as her daughter, caring for me and my children in many loving ways – even taking us in to live with her and Dad Boese for three months in 1983, doing the cooking, cleaning and much childcare while I wrote my master’s thesis. She told me that after the time she spent with us in Côte d’Ivoire she no longer was hoping that we would only stay there a few years; no, she knew it was the best place for us to serve our mutual Master and she completely released us to keep on keeping on. She gave us some of her handmade items, keepsakes. She openly shared her spiritual journey and her prayers. And this past year, she was the one who incited me to publish some of my poetry by telling me that the only gifts she wanted from us for her birthday and Christmas were books of my poems. Sorting them, deciding which ones to print for her, led me to notice the theme that I published this year as When He Whispers: Learning to Listen on the Journey. The Lord used her to prompt me, and I am grateful!

I could say more, but that gives a sampling of the gift that Mom Boese was to us. I’m glad that now she is receiving her reward from the One who loves her more than any of us can.

Thanksgiving is just around the corner! It is an annual prompt to remember to be grateful, not only for all that we enjoy but also for the One who made us, and loves us:

Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever. (Ps. 107:1 NIV)

How Long?

Father, our hopes are drying up
just like the earth, turned to dust;
just like the leaves, shriveled to paper.
No sign of change; no rain. 
How long must your people wither,
shiver in thirsty air
that claims all moisture as its own?
Tears are gone with the wind.
Our hearts ache and find no solace.
How long must our eyes burn,
longing, searching the horizon
for some glimpse of hope?

Slap the violent out of their arrogance!
Pull their stolen chairs out from under
their fat bums, grown gross 
from slurping up the profits of the poor!
Nail them to the crosses
they’ve erected for the innocent,
judging them guilty
for their names or point of view!

How long, dear King, our Father?
We know you rule the universe.
Let us see your justice—
we beg this of you!
Hear our prayer, this petition
signed in anxious trust. . . 
all our hope is in you.

The gorgeous colors of Michigan’s autumn are fading away; leaves are mostly on the ground. The tree skeletons wait, ready for winter. When I wrote the lament “How Long?” we were in a similar season in northern Côte d’Ivoire: the glorious greens of rainy season were gone. Leaves were either withered and fallen or covered with dull brown as the harmattan wind blew in, plastering everything with dust from lands north of us. It seemed like a picture of the divided country’s hopes. Withered. Dried up.

We were dealing with years and years of rebel rule all around us, with political figures in government in the south who seemed most interested in amassing personal glory and wealth. The south was deeply suspicious of anyone from the north. The stories of violent oppression were circulating. A woman had been pulled off a bus heading toward the Ghanaian border she disappeared. Her name labeled her a northerner. A man heading into the southern territory from the north on a bus was shot at a police stop; he had the wrong name, too, one associated with a Muslim people group but widely applied to others as well. And a man in our town was killed by a rebel unit when one of his actions disgruntled the local rebel leader.

We were trying to help certain students from local families get accepted into vocational training programs in the south. After a while it became clear that one had to give a huge “gift” of money to those in charge, or there was no hope of getting accepted. These poor northerners were constantly left out.

Could there ever be peace? Could the country become reunited?

“How long” has been a theme of countless followers of our Lord, for centuries.

 I am absolutely terrified, and you, LORD – how long will this continue? (Ps. 6:3 NET)

O Lord, how long are you going to just stand there and watch this? Rescue me from their destructive attacks; guard my life from the young lions! (Ps. 35:17 NET)

How long, LORD, must I cry for help? But you do not listen! I call out to you, “Violence!” But you do not intervene! (Hab. 1:2 NET)

And there are multiple times in the Scriptures when those same words are launched back at the people:

“You unbelieving generation,” Jesus replied, “how long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you?” (Mk. 9:19 NIV)

“How long will you simpletons love naiveté? How long will mockers delight in mockery and fools hate knowledge? (Prov. 1:22 NET)

Is the “how long” song familiar to you? My prayers still lean that way at times. Just reading the news headlines confirms that violence is a daily norm, that fake news spreads like wildfire, that the pandemic is not over since cases are actually rising.

It may not be the national or world situation that is so distressing. Other social fractures, or sickness, or loss and grief that do not seem to get healed, all fuel the same kinds of lament.

From our limited perspective there often seems to be no hope, no response to our prayers. This is when we need to renew our trust and notice the answers that may be sliding in sideways. God’s purposes are often hidden to us. We need to dismantle naiveté and keep our eyes and hearts open to what he desires, to grow in knowing him and his ways.

At the same time that all that corruption and disunity was breaking our hearts in Côte d’Ivoire, the Lord was doing some amazing things.

One of the young men from Tiepogovogo, where we had been planting a church, had just finished one year of pastoral training when the war and crisis forced the school to close for a while. So Fouhoton Pierre was back home in his village. He used that change in plans to spend time visiting people in neighboring villages, telling them about Jesus and how he had changed his life. Suddenly the struggling little body of believers in Tiepogovogo was growing, welcoming lots of new believers walking from neighboring villages to fellowship with them. Fouhoton realized that some people in more distant villages were needing to be discipled as well, meeting with them where they lived.

Not squelched by the dangers all around, the Nyarafolo Group that had been meeting to make songs in their traditional musical style began to plan Bible conferences, choosing a different village each year so as to encourage the various groups that were scattered in the region. The first one to take place after our return in 2006 was at Pisankaha, where the very first small group of Jesus Followers had begun in 1964. For years they had been the only group of Nyarafolo believers. At the conference the Pisankaha believers told stories of how the Lord had brought them through years of persecution from the Sacred Forest (the men’s society in the traditional religion), and how much they had learned to trust their Lord. The Nyarafolo Group put on a dramatic skit that told how Abraham’s faith was tested as he offered his son Isaac as a sacrifice, obeying God, and how God answered with a great solution, confirming Abraham’s faith as real. Everyone came away encouraged. And for the first time ever, they heard part of God’s Word read to them in Nyarafolo. My co-translator, Moise, and I were working on translating Genesis, and the Abraham story was now in their language. As he read it they were transfixed.

There were many other things happening, too. But those are examples of the way that the Lord was still at work, even when the broader country situation did not seem to be changing.

We need to rest in the confidence that the King of the Universe knows every detail of our sorrows before we even express them, and is not shocked at our cries of distress. He has heard them for thousands of years. And even though we may not see the answers we are hoping for right away, or in the way we are hoping to see them, we can trust his goodness, kindness and love. He still has undercover projects going on. He still is at work drawing people to himself and testing the solidity of the faith of others. We are indeed being sifted, or you could say that true colors are showing up through these processes.

May we choose trust! And when we cry out to him, may we be willing to wait to see how he will work, always listening for his voice! We know that he accepts our petitions and loves to see us lean on him, honestly expressing our needs as well as our confidence in him.

All our hope is in him.

I call to you for you will answer me, O God. Listen to me! Hear what I say! Accomplish awesome, faithful deeds, you who powerfully deliver those who look to you for protection from their enemies. (Ps. 17:6 NET)

Waiting on You

No dark corners, Lord –
set the lamp high,
turn up the glow,
show up the shadows
for what they are
	dust that needs sweeping,
	empty spaces,
	or hidden wonders.

My soul is before you,
the wide-open mouth
of a mammoth cave,
hungry for light,
 hungry for you:
	fill up the cavern
	with Spirit of God,
	light me with you!

This long night walk, Lord,
saps my courage.
I can’t see clearly,
I come to a crossing
and have no clue:
	should I continue!
	should I turn left?
	is right now right?

My life is before you,
mid-chapter, mid-verse,
an open book with
the page almost turned,
the plot complicating –
	turn the page swiftly,
	shine your light on it,
	move the plot on!

You have probably been at that point too, once or several times, that moment when a choice must be made but the way forward is unclear. Those of us who have decided to trust the Good Shepherd and his guidance can find it hard to understand which way he is pointing. We long for clarity, but in that critical moment the one thing we are sure of is that we do not yet know which way to turn, or what the consequences of each choice might be.

Back in 2006, we had been evacuated for three-and-a-half years from the country where we were serving as missionaries. Our son had reached adult status and was a freshman in college, so we would no longer be taking a minor back into an extremely volatile situation if we were to return. The country, Côte d’Ivoire, was still divided in two, with the government ruling the south and rebels holding the north where we had been living. If we returned, there would be danger, with no rule of law and supply chains fractured. But other mission partners were there, dealing with it all.

I was finishing my last classes for my M.Div. at Michigan Theological Seminary, even doing some of them long-distance while accompanying my younger sister through her battle with leukemia. That blessing of being able to be with her during her last months on earth kept us confident that we were to be in the U.S. Then she passed away. Knowing that we had much yet to accomplish in our various ministries, we felt it was time to return. We’d had enough of that mid-chapter phase.

Once that decision was made, we received confirmation from the Lord, that peace within that comes when you take one step forward and sense that you must continue in that direction, that he will guide the next steps too.

We went through the heartbreaking familiar process of saying goodbye to our kids and our parents, and headed to Côte d’Ivoire. Re-entry brought back the memories of that wrenching evacuation, with no closure back in Ferke since we had been at a training session in Bouake when war broke out, with no opportunity to say goodbye to our national friends and ministry partners. But now there was great joy in being reunited with precious “companions of the Road” in the Nyarafolo community. Glenn had been back a few times on short trips to ensure that co-workers could continue their various new ministries, adapting to the new restrictions. I had not been back at all.

The drive north from Abidjan on the coast, passing through the government checkpoints in the south, and then the numerous rebel barriers across the roads in the north was an introduction to the next years of living in the divided country. The north was without government services, so there were no police anywhere. There were frequent water and electricity cutoffs which the government was using as weapons to weaken the hold of the rebel forces.  

Fear became a continual challenge for me. Did I really trust my Father’s promises to watch over me? Did I have confidence that he would provide a way when there seemed to be no way? People were dying at the whim of any rebel leader in their area who became upset with them. We missionaries had a certain amount of protection due to our status as caregivers, with the mission hospital (where Glenn worked) the only one still open in the region. This definitely helped us pass through all the road barriers. But we knew that those desperate for gain also viewed us as “rich.” Could I let go of my anxieties and pursue the kinds of ministry that were still possible?

It was a story the Lord was writing, and the plot seemed to be at an ongoing climax with no resolution in sight. This forced me to actually put my trust in him, come what may, and focus on navigating the part of the path that I could see before me. I got back into Bible translation work. It had been on hold since the rebels had taken over in the fall of 2002, with my Nyarafolo coworkers doing what they could in literacy work, outreach, and literature development, and one of them down south studying at the seminary that was dealing with most faculty evacuated as well. Delving into God’s Word with purpose, discussing the treasures with my coworkers, hearing their stories –it all grounded me again in the walk of faith.

God answered my prayers, daily. I asked; he gave peace and encouragement. He used the difficulties to show me what was hidden in shadows in my heart. He is the Light in the darkness, and I learned to trust that truth in a whole new way as he clarified my purpose and opened me to his promptings:

35 Take care then, that the light in you is not darkness. 36 If, therefore, your whole body is full of light, with no part of it in darkness, it will be entirely illuminated, as when a lamp shines its light on you.” (Lk. 11:33 CSB)

He is good, and although his answers may not be just what we expected, they are what will accomplish his purposes in us and through us. Luke 11:9-13 spoke to me as I asked for guidance:

“So I say to you, keep asking,and it will be given to you. Keep searching,and you will find. Keep knocking, and the door will be opened to you. 10 For everyone who asks receives, and the one who searches finds, and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. 11 What father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead of a fish? 12 Or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? 13 If you then, who are evil,know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father  give the Holy Spirit  to those who ask Him?” (Lk. 11:9 CSB)

I have many more stories to tell, and they will be coming. But right now, I just want to reach out to any of you who are dealing with scary circumstances or shadows on the path, and encourage you to keep on trusting the Guide, the Author not only of our salvation but of his plan for each of us. He loves us with a depth that no one else does. He just asks us to trust his heart, believing that he will show a way when there seems to be no way!

The Forest Dance

White bark peeling but holding on,
the birches spike high into the sky,
into the blue, craving sunlight.
The pines do too, brown bark firm,
graciously extending multiple arms
fringed with green lace to hug their neighbors.
The birches’ golding leaves whisper gratitude
as wind incites community dance.

Breath of heaven, may we respond
this same way, growing together,
drinking in light, mutuality our song
as we embrace unity and grow together,
our palette of colors stunning the world.

Let’s take a moment to go up north again into the forest in the Upper Peninsula. The community of trees fascinated me; I took photos every time I walked around the lake. But most of all I drank in the daily beauty of the evergreens and birches right in front of the window where I sat each morning.

There was a surprisingly obvious face silhouetted on the left side of the birch closest to me. Yes, it was sculpted by the peeling birch bark. He was so contemplative, and I guessed he might be watching all that was going on in neighboring trees and enabling me to see some new truths in the way that they were growing together.

The trees each obviously had one ultimate purpose: shooting straight up to get the sunlight essential for their health. They were close together, with a few lower branches reaching out to touch a neighbor, whether it was another birch or a pine. But most of their leaves, especially for the birches, were higher up. When the wind blew and the rain fell from the sky they all danced, especially the birches, whose leaves were also turning golden and falling one by one. Their neighbors, however, stayed dark green, while dropping some needles and cones. Very different species, but living in harmony. They touched each other, branches waving, heads bowing.

All the turmoil going on in our world these days, even in our church communities, is often like that strong wind and rain as it pummels the pines and birches. They sway, their branches sometimes hitting each other, but they stay together. When one gets toppled it often lands in the arms of its neighbor, who holds it up as long as it can.

The birches and evergreens really differ from each other, and other trees add to the diversity, such as oaks and beeches. People are also very different from each other in our communities of believers. Maybe the difference is ethnic or racial, maybe it’s political opinion or musical preference. Whatever it is, we are called to stand together, held together by the bond of mutual affection:

For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; 6 and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; 7 and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love. (2 Pet. 1:5 NIV)

And what is that reason? To share in the divine nature (v. 4), which means to be like our Lord! A series of virtues is listed, each one important. But when I think of community living, it is the last two that intrigue me. What is the difference between “mutual affection” and “love”? Mutual affection is what many translate as “brotherly love,” which is caring for one another in the Family of faith. “Love,” here, is agape. A great way to understand agape is (according to the Danker Greek New Testament lexicon) “a relatively high level of interest in the well-being of another.” That can reach beyond the boundaries of mutual affection in the Family. Say someone is in a difficult or bad situation, in or outside the group; “agape” love reaches out to offer help. It is like the love of God expressed in John 3:16, his love for the world. While we were still sinners, Jesus died for us!

Growing in this kind of love cannot be done if we ignore each other, or just lash out instead of listening to each other.

So even though we may be very different people, we are to live out this truth that we need to grow together, demonstrating unity. We all need to seek the Light (like those very tall trees reaching past all other growth to absorb the light that gives life). How do we do that? By growing in our knowledge of the One who is the Light of the world, through his Word, and by living in his Presence and following his instructions. And the two commands that englobe all the others are, as we keep reminding ourselves, to love God with our entire being, and to love our neighbor as we love ourselves. If we can grow ever upwards in the Light, and ever more in harmony with our diverse neighbors, we will be a forest full of beauty even as the seasons change or storms sweep through. Like the tree that provides a resting place for the branch or trunk that is blown over, we can find ways to provide support for the weaker person and forgiveness when we take a hit:

Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. (Col. 3:13 NIV)

White peeling birches, mysterious dark pines, sturdy oaks or other varieties – whoever we are, let’s each do our part to grow together into a beautiful community!

Drenched but Keeping On

Somber clouds seemed to be
on the horizon, but suddenly
they spread overhead
and the sky was weeping.

Unprepared, I was still
two miles from my goal,
the cabin across the lake.
No umbrella. No hood.

Forty-eight-degree-Fahrenheit
water was chilling my head
and shoulders, soaking
through jacket and jeans,

leaving pearly droplets
all over my glasses
My normal gait turned
into an energetic power walk.

I kept my path under branches
leaning over the road
but autumn was passing,
leaves mostly crunching underfoot.

My calming hour in nature
had become almost a run.
Would rescue come?
Should I keep on keeping on?

A voice within chuckled,
urging me to notice
“this long obedience
in the same direction.”*

It would take determination;
this trial would breed patience,
perseverance. I could indeed
make it home, drenched but fine.

My fast pace thumped rhythms
of joy in the challenge,
and I sang “Amazing Grace”
as I weathered the storm.

Did you notice that serious staring face in the cloud just over the road, in the image above? I took that photo several days before I got drenched by such a cloud, but I should not have ignored the warning. Those dark clouds can sneak up on you and have unexpected impact!

Intermittent rains punctuated our last days at Piatt Lake, so whenever the sun came out we knew it was time to get outside. I am a walker, and the 3.6-mile (according to my step-tracker) trek around the lake was not only exercise but a time for meditation on the beauty of creation. I just had to stop and take pictures along the way: a village of mushrooms, lily pads on the lagoon or by the bridge, and the autumn colors of crimson and gold even as they turned to deep rust.

Sometimes I grabbed the umbrella found in the closet, one my mom had left behind as part of the whole cabin’s legacy. Of course, those days it did not rain. But on this last trek I shrugged off the threat of rain, left the umbrella by the door, and got caught in a long downpour. Two miles of speed-walking a muddy road in that cold weather was not in my game plan. I have often commented that my preferred temperature is 79 degrees and above. The wet onslaught felt icy. It was soaking through my gloves and fall jacket, and there was no forest shelter left over the road.

When joy penetrated the slight panic in my heart I realized that I was being made to see an obvious parallel with that teaching in James:

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters,whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. (Jas. 1:2 NIV). Okay, so here is another test run, I said to myself. Can I experience joy in this increasing freezing downpour and make it home? It should be good training!

I did make it home. But to keep myself going, I sang, silently, and “Amazing Grace” repeated itself over and over as I pressed on. I have already been rescued, not only from doom but also from a long walk with no meaning: God’s grace has truly brought me through many “dangers, trials and snares” during my life journey. I do have adventures and challenges to write about, memories that encourage me because every time, it was the Lord who made a way where there seemed to be no way.

Perseverance on the race here on earth will make us “mature and complete” (James 1:4). That is a much higher goal than the desire for physical fitness that keeps me walking! Rain penetrating my hair and coat, I was no longer feeling the intense cold now that my heart was doing a great job, circulating warmth to my body as I pushed ahead with my power walk. Grab that imagery and apply it to the long walk of obedience Home: as my heart beats more and more in rhythm with my Lord’s heart, he builds endurance into my character and walks with me all the way to destination, each time that there is a challenge along the way. And eventually I will reach full maturity, my fears put in perspective, his song breathing joy into the journey.

It was not my idea of a great last circuit of this lovely lake. Underneath my jeans my skin felt frosted. I had to hang up my garments to dry and take a hot shower. But my heart was stirred by the message from my Lord, and I can see that the rain was a blessing, after all.

Something like that cloud-face might spook me, and I might get caught in a downpour, but I just need to remember who is always with me, no matter what happens. He can remind my heart that he is the source of my joy, even in the tough times. He will help me finish the race.

Are you feeling drenched by a storm? Don’t focus on the dark clouds. Rather, remember to exult in the confident hope that those of us who belong to the Good Shepherd share: his goodness and love will pursue us, ALL the days of our lives!

Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will live in the house of the LORD forever. (Ps. 23:6 NLT)

Like me, you may have learned that verse as “Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life.” It was in the process of struggling to translate it into Nyarafolo that I learned that “mercy” was hesed in Hebrew, what is now mostly translated as “unfailing” or “steadfast” love. No English word can convey the whole meaning, but this kind of love is faithful. It can be counted on. And it does not just “follow me,” which I picture as just coming behind me like a shadow. The Hebrew word there is radap, which means “pursue.” That is powerful. My Shepherd’s love is constant, purposeful and chases me down, never leaving me alone; his goodness does the same thing.

He walks with us, and he can give us the strength to do whatever kind of “power walk” is necessary to face the challenges. We just need to be aware, thankful for this amazing grace, and persevere.