I was reading Nehemiah at work one day last week, trying to gain some encouragement and, not surprisingly, I found some. In Nehemiah 9 the people of Israel confess their sin after they finish rebuilding the wall of Jerusalem. Throughout their prayer, they describe how God brought the children of Israel out of Egypt and performed countless miracles among them, and yet they would still turn away, come back, and turn away yet again. It occurred to me that the children of Israel are not just called The Children of Israel because they are the descendants of Jacob. They are called the Children of Israel because they act like little children. Verses 26-31 stood out to me.
"Nevertheless, they were disobedient and rebelled against you and cast your law behind their back and killed your prophets, who had warned them in order to turn them back to you, and they committed great blasphemies. Therefore you gave them into the hand of their enemies, who made them suffer. And in the time of their suffering they cried out to you and you heard them from heaven, and according to your great mercies you gave them saviors who saved them from the hand of their enemies. But after they had rest they did evil again before you, and you abandoned them to the hand of their enemies, so that they had dominion over them. Yet when they turned and cried to you, you heard from heaven, and many times you delivered them according to your mercies. And you warned them in order to turn them back to your law. Yet they acted presumptuously and did not obey your commandments, but sinned against your rules, which if a person does them, he shall live by them, and they turned a stubborn shoulder and stiffened their neck and would not obey. Many years you bore with them and warned them by your Spirit through your prophets. Yet they would not give ear. Therefore you gave them into the hand of the peoples of the lands. Nevertheless, in your great mercies you did not make an end of them or forsake them, for you are a gracious and merciful God."
Sound like little kids to you? (and lets admit it, sounds like us too). Well it did to me. Anyone who has spent a day with kids knows that they are like this. You will do good things for them and then they will disobey, and you must spank them and they will cry for forgiveness, and you will be merciful to them. But everyone knows it's only a matter of time before they act up again. (Giving the Israelites into the hands of their enemies was a pretty big spanking, I'd say).
While all this was interesting to me, the last two verses especially caught my attention. "Many years you bore with them and warned them...Yet they would not give ear...Nevertheless, in your great mercies you did not make an end of them or forsake them, for you are a gracious and merciful God." Even though He constantly had to "spank" them, God never gave up on His people. We, as parents or those who take care of children, must be like God. We must be consistent in discipline, but more than that, we must show mercy and compassion, even when they sin and disobey. But wait, that's not all. We can't just do this for a few years and then stop when they get to their teens because it's just too hard to keep up with them. We must bear with them many years and warn them of the consequences of sin.
In this way we are daily showing the love of God through our actions.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Friday, July 9, 2010
All That Is Gold Does Not Glitter
What do you think of when someone tells you that they are going on a mission trip? You might imagine that person in the jungle, staying in mud huts, and eating slugs while changing people’s lives. Or you might think of them in the Middle East, with their life constantly in danger, suffering for Jesus.
That may be the case more often than not, but missions are not always about changing other people’s lives. Sometimes, it can be about changing your life.
Here are three of the many ways that one week in Peru changed mine.
We stayed at the Paraiso (Paradise) Hotel. It was a nice hotel, but the best part about it was that they had a valet/door greeter. You never see that in America. But wait, it gets better. Halfway through our stay, he introduced himself as Wan and asked whether or not I spoke Spanish. “Poco, Espanol.” I replied. He smiled and said, “Ah. I speak little English.” After that, every time I would see him, he would greet me with either ¡buenos días, Kathryn!, ¡buenas tardes, Kathryn!, or ¡buenas noches, Kathryn! He always said my name with his own special accent, which was cute.
Wan’s name means gentle and gracious, and he definitely lived up to his name. He had a relentless and unfailing supply of joyful service. Wan’s devotion to a job that would be looked down on by a typical American was inspiring. I don’t know what his life was like outside of his job, but when he was working he was always there with a warm smile, waiting and willing to serve and become lowly. Let’s all learn to be so Christ-like.
There was a boy. His name was Steven. He was shy, smaller than the other boys, and lived in a poor section of Trujillo. Every morning he would walk to the Church in Wichanzao to attend an English class taught by Peru Mission. This class was in addition to his regular school in the afternoons. Before class each day, we would sit on the front steps and he would take pictures with my camera. Sometimes he would sit on the wall and swing his legs, a contented smile always on his face.
I don’t know what his family was like, whether he had a dad or not, as many kids there didn’t. I don’t know whether he knew that he lived in a poor part of town where everything was dirty, or if he knew what life was like where I come from, that a “normal” family in the States would have a dad who was married to your mom, went to work everyday and was able to by you cool toys and take you to the movies. I do know, however, that he was happy. Watching Steven and his friends at a game of football (soccer), I saw in his face pure joy as he took part in the simplest of things. They were truly happy just to kick a ball, to run and laugh and push each other around in the sun. You can learn much from a young boy even if you can’t speak the same language. Happiness in a poor life, for starters.
Steven with his sister, Monica
The English class with their teacher, getting ready to play a game of football
Thursday we walked out to the squatters’ town. Clementina is made up of mud huts; adobe brick houses covering rolling sand dunes. If you lived here, you generally did not have electricity or running water. If you stayed on a piece of land long enough, (or rather, your house with a small courtyard) usually 5-10 years, it would become yours, unless the government decided they wanted it. If they decided this, your house would be leveled and you would be forced to move on, find a different place to squat. Over the years, as they obtained the free money and time, the people of Clementina would slowly advance their living quarters. Eventually Clementina would become something like Wichanzao: better buildings, it’s own market, maybe some crudely paved roads.
We walked through Clementina and a few of us climbed a small hill to get a good view of Trujillo. Looking down on Clementina with Trujillo in the background and the Pacific behind that, I realized that being grateful isn’t a one time thing. We need to constantly be reminding ourselves of what God has given us and to not take things for granted. And I’m not just talking about running water, electricity, or nice houses. I’m talking about real, whole and loving families, fresh food that is clean and safe, endless options of entertainment.
View of Clementina, Trujillo, and the Pacific
Some of the houses in Clementina
So how did Wan, Steven and the town of Clementina all change my life? Wan taught me to serve anyone and everyone with a Christ-like spirit, whether or not your job is one to be envied. Steven showed me that where we live and what we do does not define how happy we can be. It’s contentment in any situation that enables us to put a smile on. The small town of Clementina reminded me that nothing is too small to not be a blessing from God.
The streets of Trujillo did not glitter, but the lessons I learned there are as precious as gold.
That may be the case more often than not, but missions are not always about changing other people’s lives. Sometimes, it can be about changing your life.
Here are three of the many ways that one week in Peru changed mine.
We stayed at the Paraiso (Paradise) Hotel. It was a nice hotel, but the best part about it was that they had a valet/door greeter. You never see that in America. But wait, it gets better. Halfway through our stay, he introduced himself as Wan and asked whether or not I spoke Spanish. “Poco, Espanol.” I replied. He smiled and said, “Ah. I speak little English.” After that, every time I would see him, he would greet me with either ¡buenos días, Kathryn!, ¡buenas tardes, Kathryn!, or ¡buenas noches, Kathryn! He always said my name with his own special accent, which was cute.
Wan’s name means gentle and gracious, and he definitely lived up to his name. He had a relentless and unfailing supply of joyful service. Wan’s devotion to a job that would be looked down on by a typical American was inspiring. I don’t know what his life was like outside of his job, but when he was working he was always there with a warm smile, waiting and willing to serve and become lowly. Let’s all learn to be so Christ-like.
There was a boy. His name was Steven. He was shy, smaller than the other boys, and lived in a poor section of Trujillo. Every morning he would walk to the Church in Wichanzao to attend an English class taught by Peru Mission. This class was in addition to his regular school in the afternoons. Before class each day, we would sit on the front steps and he would take pictures with my camera. Sometimes he would sit on the wall and swing his legs, a contented smile always on his face.
I don’t know what his family was like, whether he had a dad or not, as many kids there didn’t. I don’t know whether he knew that he lived in a poor part of town where everything was dirty, or if he knew what life was like where I come from, that a “normal” family in the States would have a dad who was married to your mom, went to work everyday and was able to by you cool toys and take you to the movies. I do know, however, that he was happy. Watching Steven and his friends at a game of football (soccer), I saw in his face pure joy as he took part in the simplest of things. They were truly happy just to kick a ball, to run and laugh and push each other around in the sun. You can learn much from a young boy even if you can’t speak the same language. Happiness in a poor life, for starters.
Steven with his sister, Monica
The English class with their teacher, getting ready to play a game of football
Thursday we walked out to the squatters’ town. Clementina is made up of mud huts; adobe brick houses covering rolling sand dunes. If you lived here, you generally did not have electricity or running water. If you stayed on a piece of land long enough, (or rather, your house with a small courtyard) usually 5-10 years, it would become yours, unless the government decided they wanted it. If they decided this, your house would be leveled and you would be forced to move on, find a different place to squat. Over the years, as they obtained the free money and time, the people of Clementina would slowly advance their living quarters. Eventually Clementina would become something like Wichanzao: better buildings, it’s own market, maybe some crudely paved roads.
We walked through Clementina and a few of us climbed a small hill to get a good view of Trujillo. Looking down on Clementina with Trujillo in the background and the Pacific behind that, I realized that being grateful isn’t a one time thing. We need to constantly be reminding ourselves of what God has given us and to not take things for granted. And I’m not just talking about running water, electricity, or nice houses. I’m talking about real, whole and loving families, fresh food that is clean and safe, endless options of entertainment.
View of Clementina, Trujillo, and the Pacific
Some of the houses in Clementina
So how did Wan, Steven and the town of Clementina all change my life? Wan taught me to serve anyone and everyone with a Christ-like spirit, whether or not your job is one to be envied. Steven showed me that where we live and what we do does not define how happy we can be. It’s contentment in any situation that enables us to put a smile on. The small town of Clementina reminded me that nothing is too small to not be a blessing from God.
The streets of Trujillo did not glitter, but the lessons I learned there are as precious as gold.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Headed for the Coasts of Peru
Because I hate packing, procrastination has been my hobby for the week. Mr. Jason said this week would go by fast, but I had no idea. I mean, I had great excuses. Tuesday I accompanied Lydia in a duet for her senior recital, which was awesome. Wednesday Grace and I made Jalapeno Pepper Jelly and Rosemary Jelly, and I rediscovered my love for canning. That's valid, right?
Well now it's Thursday, and it looks as if a tornado hit my room. At this point, all I can do is turn up the music and hope I remember everything.
Please remember to pray for Bethel's mission team: Steven Wright, Jason Rashall, Allan Lopez, Donna McCrary, Christina Gates, Rachel McCrary and myself. On Friday we fly from Houston to Lima where we will spend the night. Saturday morning is sightseeing in Lima, and then on to Trujillo in the evening.
Peru, here we come!
Well now it's Thursday, and it looks as if a tornado hit my room. At this point, all I can do is turn up the music and hope I remember everything.
Please remember to pray for Bethel's mission team: Steven Wright, Jason Rashall, Allan Lopez, Donna McCrary, Christina Gates, Rachel McCrary and myself. On Friday we fly from Houston to Lima where we will spend the night. Saturday morning is sightseeing in Lima, and then on to Trujillo in the evening.
Peru, here we come!
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