A couple weeks ago, Casey and I began taking the class called “Perspectives on the World Christian Movement.” We had our first lesson last night, and I’m already blown away. This material is incredible, mind-boggling, and life-changing. There are several people in our class that are taking it for the second time; it’s that good.

From their website: “Perspectives helps believers from all walks of life see how they can get threaded into God’s story of redeeming people from every tribe, tongue, and nation to Himself. From Genesis to the prophets, Jesus Christ to the early church, and Constantine to today, you will see how God has been moving, how the global Church has responded, and what the greatest needs in world evangelization remain today. It isn’t a class about missions, but a course on how every believer can be intimately woven into the story of God using His people to be a blessing to all the peoples of the earth.”

Each week we cover a different topic with a different speaker, which we prepare for by reading through several assigned articles. In order to share what we are learning and to help myself process and record what God is teaching me, I plan to blog about each lesson.

Last night’s lesson was called, “The Living God Is A Missionary God,” and our speaker was Todd Ahrend, author of The Abrahamic Revolution and In This Generation. Todd works with Mission Revolution and The Traveling Team.

Todd shared with us many amazing things in his two one-hour sessions. He showed us how the Bible shows God to be a Missionary God from the very beginning. In the introduction to the Bible (Genesis 1-11), God creates His world, which is then compromised by sin. This sin results in a loss of relationship between God and His creation. After the people build the Tower of Babel in Genesis 11, God scatters the nations across the face of the earth. But immediately following that, He calls Abram in Genesis 12; this begins the plot of the whole Bible, God restoring people to a relationship with Him, which concludes in Revelation with His victory over evil.

I’ve studied Abraham several times before. I know all about the promises that God gave him and the nation that was birthed from his obedience, but I never understood the point of God’s call or God’s plan for the Hebrew people before last night. God did not call and bless Abraham just because he was a favorite, or because God had given up on all other people. He called and blessed Abraham in order that all the people of earth would be blessed (Genesis 12:3) and so that all people could come to know Him. In the same way, God did not elect the Israelites, the Chosen People, because He was fed up with all other people and wanted to only develop a relationship with Abraham’s descendants. His plan for the Israelites was always that they would point the rest of mankind to God. That they would serve as His priests, His mediators, between the lost people of the earth and the Creator of the universe. As Isaiah 49:6 says, “‘It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to bring back the preserved of Israel; I will make you as a light for the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.’”

I think a part of me always assumed that God only extended salvation to the Gentiles through the new covenant because the Jewish people had rejected Him. But now I see that God always desired a relationship with all people. He only chose the Israelites to be the vehicle for bringing His name to the nations. Think of Jonah, the Hebrew prophet sent to the Ninevites, a Gentile nation. God was reaching out to establish a relationship with those people, and He wanted the Hebrew people to help Him with this mission. Here’s how Todd Ahrend drew the diagram:

But the Hebrew people rejected this mission from God (just as Jonah initially did). They didn’t want to share God with the other nations; they would rather keep their relationship with God to themselves. As Todd Ahrend explained it, God intended to reveal Himself to the Israelites so that they could in turn reveal Him to all the peoples of the earth. He blessed Israel so that they could be a blessing to the nations, “that [His] way may be known on earth, [His] saving power among all nations” (Ps. 67:2). But instead, Israel’s disobedience ended up giving God a bad reputation on earth; they failed their mission. Ezekiel 36:20-22 says, “wherever they came, they profaned my holy name, in that people said of them, ‘These are the people of the LORD, and yet they had to go out of his land.’ But I had concern for my holy name, which the house of Israel had profaned among the nations to which they came. ‘Therefore say to the house of Israel, Thus says the Lord God: It is not for your sake, O house of Israel, that I am about to act, but for the sake of my holy name, which you have profaned among the nations to which you came.’”

When Jesus entered the scene in the New Testament, the people in the synagogue try to kill Him when He reminds them of how God had reached out to the Gentiles (Luke 4:20-30). Later on in His ministry, the Pharisees and Sadducees demand a sign from heaven. In His response, He alludes to Jonah (remember the reluctant missionary?) and says that He will give them no other sign (Matthew 16). Immediately after this account, Jesus asks for Peter’s confession of faith and then describes how He will build His church. At this point, Jesus is relieving the Jewish people of their mission. Now the Church will be the ones to fulfill God’s plan of making His name known among the nations.

Peter echoes this transition himself in 1 Peter 2:9, when he now addresses Christ’s Church as the “chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.” And Galatians 3:14 says, “in Christ Jesus the blessing of Abraham might come to the Gentiles, so that we might receive the promised Spirit through faith.”

So, if you are a believer today, you are now the seed of Abraham. You are the recipient of the promises and blessings that God originally gave to Abraham. But, we can’t forget the reason that God gave the blessing: that “all the families of the earth shall be blessed” (Gen. 12:4), that we will be “a light for the nations, that [His] salvation may reach to the end of the earth” (Is. 49:6).

So, the question is: are we fulfilling our mission as Christ’s Church? I think sometimes we are misled into thinking that our relationship with God is only for our own benefit, and the benefit of our own children. Just like the Israelites, we sometimes like to believe that the Church exists to be a warm and comfy community only for ourselves, as if there were only two bubbles in the diagram: God and the Church. But if God’s only intentions for us after we receive Him are to deepen our relationships with Him and other believers, why would He leave us here on earth?

That is what I’ve learned and been wrestling with, and this is only Lesson One. Worth the price of admission, huh? I can’t wait to see what else God has in store for us.

That night Aaron formulated a plan. We would all contribute to cover the boy’s expenses at school, and then we would beg Gary and Peggy to accept one more student. Tuition for the school year is about $21 per student, which is still too expensive for most families to afford, so many are allowed to attend for free, but the actual expense to cover each student is about $176 per year. We easily gathered the $176 from our group, and Aaron determined to do his best the next day.

The next morning, our team gathered for breakfast, and we each shared how we had been impacted by the trip so far. Aaron reminded us of a famous quote made by the extremely wealthy Howard Hughes. When asked, “How much money is enough?” Hughes had replied, “Just a little bit more.” Aaron urged us to apply the same philosophy to our war on poverty and the orphan problem. “When we’re asked how much more we can do in our efforts to change the world, our answer must be ‘just a little bit more.’ And that’s the way I feel about this little boy. Yes, the problem is huge, but we can help him, we can do just a little bit more.“

That afternoon, Aaron met with Gary and Peggy, and they graciously agreed to add just one more to the school enrollment. We were thrilled and couldn’t wait to share the news with our new friends.

Aynalem’s three children in their one-room home

That afternoon we walked over to the dirt compound where the mother rented her small room. The three children were home, but their mother was out working. We asked the older girl to tell her mother we would come back in a couple days. As we worked out the details, Tsegaw introduced us to the children. The 15-year-old was named Habtam. And the youngest was 3-year-old Tsegeteda. “Her name means ‘Rose,’” Tsegaw added as an aside. And then he told us the name of the 6-year-old boy, the one we had been battling for. “Minyahal.” We hugged and kissed the children, as we promised to come back. “What does Minyahal’s name mean?” I asked Tsegaw as we prepared to leave. He paused for a moment as if unsure of how to answer. “Um,” he thought, “it’s more difficult, it means something like, ‘How much more?’” We were stunned. “How much more?” I whispered to Aaron, who stood beside me, “just a little bit more.”

Minyahal with Aaron

Saturday, we returned to the compound and met with their mother, Aynalem. She was overjoyed to hear the news that her son would attend the Adami Tulu school that year. She told us that she had been begging God to provide for her children, and now He had. We were honored to be part of His answer.

Here’s a video of her talking with us:

In a few weeks, little Minyahal will begin school. He will be one of the 121 students who will receive two hot meals a day, along with a wonderful education, and introduction to the gospel. And hopefully, next year, his younger sister will join him. We’re also trying to find a way for the older sister to return to school.

L to R, front row, Solomon, school official and translator, Tsegeteda, Minyahal, and Tsegaw, our driver and friend

back row, Mary Beth, Aynalem, and Cacey

It’s encouraging to be reminded that no matter how big the problem is, we can always do “just a little bit more.”

New School Building

We spent the mornings hosting a Children’s Church in Adami Tulu (I’ll share more on that in another post), and each afternoon we went to the Adami Tulu school to paint the new building. On Wednesday afternoon, a few of us had taken a break from painting to walk around the school grounds and discuss future projects. As we were breaking up, Cacey Klein and I noticed a few kids hanging around the fence behind the school. Kids had been hanging out there and calling to us every afternoon; usually we would just wave, or holler “Selam” as we continued our work, but for some reason we were drawn to these kids. “Let’s go invite them to Children’s Church tomorrow,” I suggested to Cacey. She agreed, so we grabbed our faithful friend and driver, Tsegaw, to translate for us.

As we approached the fence, we noticed that the group of kids included a mother with two small children. Tsegaw proceeded to invite them in Amharic to our Children’s Church the next morning. Cacey and I smiled at the children and waited patiently for Tsegaw to finish. But soon it was clear that Tsegaw and the mother were no longer talking about Children’s Church.

“She wants her son to come to school here,” Tsegaw eventually told us in English. I nodded sadly. She was just one of hundreds who had wanted their children to be enrolled at the Adami Tulu school. Even with the enlarged capacity of the new building, close to 200 children had to be turned away at enrollment. The need is extensive, and Gary and Peggy Ifft, the missionaries we are working with, had warned us: no matter how big the school is, there will always be more that want to come.

“Did she come to registration?” I asked, figuring she was one of the many losers in the enrollment lottery. Tsegaw asked her in Amharic. “No. She had to work that day.” After a further exchange, we learned that she works every day, seven days a week, so she had missed the two days of registration. As a daily laborer in the fields surrounding Adami Tulu, she can’t risk staying home and losing work for a day. We also learned that her husband had divorced her and did not support the children in any way. She rented a small dirt room in a compound across the street from the school, and worked every day to support her three children. When she worked, her 15-year-old daughter stayed home with the younger kids. She had to drop out of school and was doomed to a life of poverty, just like her mother.

Entrance to the compound across the street from the school

 As we learned more about her situation, my heart was broken. This woman’s children clearly qualified as “highly-vulnerable,” and all vulnerable and orphaned children were given the first spots at the school. If only she had made it to registration, her son surely would have been enrolled, but now all the spots were full. She continued pleading with us.

Finally, Tsegaw turned to me, “Can you not enroll him?” I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. Even Tsegaw, my good friend, whom I love and respect so much, was now pleading with me. Didn’t he understand that I had no power in this situation?

I looked at this woman, dressed in rags, with her hungry children at her feet. And I knew, if in her situation, I would have done the same thing. I would have begged and pleaded too. I would have done everything possible to find a better life for my children. There we stood, a chain-linked fence between us, but what felt like a chasm separating us. I had the means and the will to help this woman, but I didn’t have the power. I felt helpless.

Dirt compound where Aynalem rents a small room for her and her children.

“What if we write down her name and her children’s names?” Cacey suggested. I agreed, so we ran back to the school building to find a notebook and pen. While we were there, Cacey grabbed an apple from her bag, and I grabbed a bag full of snacks. We returned to the woman and gave her the food while Tsegaw wrote down her information.

“Tsegaw,” I finally mustered, “please tell her that we care very much. We are mothers, we have children, and we are hurting for her. Please tell her we will try to help her, but we don’t know if we can.” Tsegaw translated and I reached my hand through the chain-linked fence to hold hers. Cacey took her jacket off and gave it to the woman. Her t-shirt was in tatters and was tied at the shoulders. Then the tears started. We said goodbye and walked away before we all started weeping.

Cacey and I returned to the others as tears streamed down our faces. I felt that the situation was hopeless. As we explained the woman’s story to our husbands, Aaron gave me the tiniest bit of hope. “We’ll see what we can do,” he promised.

And still the tears fell. I was overwhelmed by this woman’s story and the knowledge that in the village of Adami Tulu there were hundreds of stories just like hers. The need is great, the problem is huge, and what I have is so very small. Our Ethiopian friend Solomon tried to encourage me, “God sees her,” he promised.

More in the next post.

Every time I’ve watched the movie, I’ve been struck by the snow. Beautiful, quiet, soft snow falls only a handful of times in the story: at the beginning, over Mattie’s dead father, in the middle, as they continue on their hunt for Chaney, towards the end, as Mattie’s life is saved, and at the end, as Mattie walks off the screen. God’s grace: beautiful, quiet, undeserved, just like falling snow.

This summer, a few of my precious friends and I are meeting to pray for each other. After praying, we’ve been discussing a book we’ve all agreed to read, One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. Voskamp’s honest and thought-provoking dialogue challenges us to see God’s gifts, God’s grace in each and every moment.

In one chapter, Voskamp struggles to see God’s grace, even in loss. If I really believe that God’s grace abounds, can I dare to see it even in the midst of pain? Does grace fall over a father’s dead body and an injured little girl? Where is the grace of God when a tornado wipes away a community, when a dear friend falls ill, when the bills pile up, when the buildings come down,when heartache strikes, when the children disobey, when thousands are slaughtered, when disappointments overflow, when the innocent suffer, when death and destruction overcome at every turn? Can we whisper it, even then, “God’s grace”?

Voskamp argues that it’s all about perspective; “That which seems evil, is it a cloud to bring rain, to bring a greater good to the whole of the world? Who would ever know the greater graces of comfort and perseverance, mercy and forgiveness, patience and courage, if no shadows fell over a life?” (89). It’s a hard question to ask, and an even harder question to answer.

To an extent, we have to suspend disbelief; we have to understand that we cannot understand. Believing in a good God is a choice that I have made; a choice, a belief that I have decided will govern my life, the good and the bad. Part of that choice is choosing to see God’s grace in everything; it’s there, but we have to have the eyes to see it. I’m learning that seeing the grace of God in the small disappointments is the training that prepares my heart to see the grace of God in what seems tragic.

And that takes us back to perspective. As Voskamp asks, “Who deserves any grace?” (93). Why do I think I deserve for things to work out my way? “When I realize that it is not God who is in my debt but I who am in His great debt, then doesn’t all become gift? For He might not have” (93). All of life, every breath, is a gift, undeserved, like snow falling.

As Job asks, “Shall we accept good from God and not trouble?” (Job 2:10), which asks the underlying question, “Do I trust Him?” If I believe that He is good, and I believe that He is all-powerful, then I must believe that His plans for me are good, even when they do not seem to be. I have to believe that His grace is falling on me, covering me, even in the midst of incredible suffering.

And yet, as Voskamp points out, suffering becomes a conduit for grace. Standing at the foot of the cross, the suffering of Christ must have seemed the ultimate tragedy; from that perspective, death had won. But Christ’s suffering opened to floodgates of the grace of God; because of His suffering, I receive grace. Can I believe that God can squeeze grace out of my own suffering, as well?

I want to be a person who lives seeing the grace of God falling like snow on this earth. I want to whisper, “God’s grace” in the slums and in the orphanage, at the bedside and the graveside, after fire, flood, and famine . . . “God’s grace, God’s grace.” And at the brink of death may the last words on my lips be, “God’s grace.”

The instant I heard about the retreat last fall, I knew this was for me. A special weekend for adoptive moms sounded like exactly what I needed. It’s no secret that the last six months have been quite challenging for us. I felt like I was living my life in a dry, lonely place, and just the thought of a retreat with other women on this same road was like water to my soul.

We have wonderful, wonderful friends here, but there’s a loneliness that comes when you follow God on a path that no one else is travelling. Adoption is beautiful; it has changed me more than anything else in my life, but also brings very unique struggles and challenges. I’ve been desperate for companionship on this journey.

So last Friday night I found myself at the Legacy Lodge with 250 other adoptive mommas. I only knew a handful of other ladies there, and large social gatherings are NOT my thing, but when I walked in Friday night, I felt like I had walked into a room of sisters. There were women from all over the country, representing hundreds of children who had been fostered in their homes, hundreds and hundreds of children who had been adopted as their own, and over a hundred children that were still waiting around the world for their waiting families.

The weekend was amazing. There were beautiful times of worship, encouraging and challenging teaching, lots of practical breakouts, like African hair-care and working on attachment issues with your children. There was also precious, precious alone time with the Lord. I felt God pour Himself into my heart in ways I have never felt before. On Friday night, as the weekend was starting, I asked God to let me feel His love for me, even just a little bit, and He definitely came through! I was so amazed; it felt like the whole retreat had been arranged solely for God to talk to me. I felt His love being poured over me by sweet, sweet sisters, who I don’t even know.

Some of it was so personal that I’m not ready to share yet. But I will share one thing . . . One of the activities on Saturday was called “A Date with God.” I’ve never done anything like it. We met in a large room where there were several stations for you to choose how to spend your time with God. There was a place to pray, a place to read scripture, a place to be still before the Lord, a place to draw, paint, or sculpt, and a place to pray for others. We spent an hour quietly seeking God in different ways.

I began by reading Psalm 84, one of the main scriptures for the weekend. I had been reading through it for several weeks earlier, and it seemed like a good place to start. As I read, I asked God to speak to me through my time with him. For some reason, I felt God continually drawing my attention to Psalm 84:11, “For the LORD God is a sun and a shield; the LORD bestows favor and honor. No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly.” I wasn’t sure why God was telling me that He was my sun and shield, but I felt that He was wanting to impress that upon me. I went to the drawing table where we were invited to draw a picture of God’s love for us, so I drew a sun and a shield, still not really making much of a connection with it. I kept thinking about the sun and shield, but I still couldn’t figure out how that was applicable to me.

I went on with the weekend, had lots of wonderful experiences, but it wasn’t until Monday, on our drive home, when I realized what God was telling me. As we were driving home, I was thinking of how sad I was that the weekend was over. I wanted to stay there, surrounded by loving people, and I thought to myself, “I don’t want to leave; it was such a warm and safe place.” And immediately I heard God speak to me, “I am your warm and safe place; I am your sun and your shield.” Wow!

What a beautiful and loving God we serve, that He would take the time to speak that to my heart. There are so many other things I could share, and maybe I will soon, but I’m still letting things settle in my heart. I’m so thankful for all of the sweet women (many of them were not even adoptive moms) who spent so much time planning, preparing, and serving during the retreat. It was truly an incredible gift!

I lay all the blame at the feet of three beautiful women, three women who have each, one at a time, turned my world upside down.

I grew up very, very comfortably; I won’t say spoiled because I have excellent parents who worked hard to teach me good things, but still I had everything I needed, and most things I wanted. It’s only been recently that I’ve come to understand just how very blessed I am. As a teenager, I tended to think that the good blessings in my life were the result of my good decisions. People that had problems were people who made bad choices. I realize now how wrong that is, but for a good portion of my life this was my world view. Then came my first close encounter with injustice.

When I was 18 years old, as I’ve mentioned before, my parents adopted my then seven-year-old sister from Romania. As Mihaela came into our family, and we got to see up-close how much pain her little life had held, my world view was rocked a little. And then, as time passed, and it became clear that there were parts of Mihaela that would not be healed this side of heaven, questions began echoing in my heart. “Why? What did she do to be doomed to this kind of life?” I didn’t have answers to the questions, and since I had moved away from home by that time, I could set the questions aside when they became too invasive. But it was pretty clear: Mihaela’s life didn’t conform to my world view.

Almost ten years later, I met the second woman who changed my life: Josiah’s birth mother. I’ve written more about our meeting here, but, if Mihaela rocked my world view, Josiah’s birth mother turned it upside down and poured the contents on the floor. Here before me was a beautiful, beautiful woman, barely a woman, more like a girl, who had suffered so much more than I could comprehend. And she was giving me her child. As I scrutinized our encounter, I came to the horrifying discovery that, not only had she done nothing to deserve her life, I had done nothing to deserve mine. In fact, why was I the wealthy one, and why was she the poor one? Why weren’t our situations reversed? Why wasn’t I giving her my son? The questions kept me up at night, and I couldn’t come up with any answers.

When I added up all of the decisions and actions of my life, they never equaled beautiful, prosperous, bountiful life. I know that I have done nothing to deserve the blessings God has poured into my life, and I know that He loves her, Josiah’s birth mother, every bit as much as He loves me. So why? When it comes down to it, I am living the life I have simply because God chose for me to be born here, and Josiah’s birth mother is living her life simply because He chose for her to be born there.

I came home from Ethiopia so burdened, almost sick, and poured on top of that, I now got to enjoy the laughter and smiles of this beautiful baby that she had given me.

My next encounter with a life-changing woman was Evelyn’s birth mother. It was almost like deja vu. Here I was, once again, sitting before a beautiful woman. The situation was similar, but the suffering was even more intense. Except for a few recent tragedies, this woman’s life looked so much like mine. So why was she sitting on that side of the equation? What had she done to deserve what had happened to her? And then I noticed her hands; they were rough and weathered, while mine were soft and delicate. This beautiful woman is five years younger than me, but she looked fifteen years older. I could tell just by looking at her that her life has been filled with hard, hard work. Next to her I felt pampered, spoiled. I felt like Marie Antoinette. And again, I came home heart-sick.

And the questions keep piling up. Why is Ethiopia so poor? Why do the people there seem destined to suffer, while we argue over which TV show to watch? And then the problem gets bigger; it’s not just Ethiopia, it’s nearly all of Africa too; and then there’s Asia, and Central and South America. And people are dying because they don’t have clean water or simple medical treatments. And children, children, are suffering while no one is watching. And why do I sit here, smack-dab in the middle of paradise? Why?

I don’t have all of the answers. I don’t know why I got this life while so many are suffering. I don’t know if I’ll ever know. But because of these encounters, because of these questions, I will never be the same. Enter intense wrestling.

The only answer I’ve come to, in part because of a great book I read a few years ago called The Treasure Principle, is that God has given me great wealth so that I can help the poor, and in doing so spread His gospel and bring Him glory. That’s the only answer I have . . . the only one that’s sticking.

Yes . . . a well. As we’ve seen first hand in Ethiopia, the need for clean water is huge. Clean water can change the life of a village. From Charity: Water’s website, “Millions of women and children in developing countries walk over three miles every day to collect water. And sadly, often the only water they have is sitting stagnant in contaminated ponds and flowing through streams and rivers polluted by cows and human waste. Unsafe water and a lack of basic sanitation causes 80% of all disease in the world and kills 4,500 children every day. And the time spent collecting water keeps children out of school and women from pursuing economic activities. Clean and safe water is readily available in underground aquifers, freshwater springs or with the help of simple filters. It just needs to be properly collected and managed.”

Clean water changes so much. For just $5,000 we can fund a water project in a developing nation. Just $5,000 and 250 people who do not currently have clean water will be able to drink clean water for 20 years. Isn’t that amazing? $20 provides clean water for one person for 20 years.

We have been touched and changed by the beautiful people of Ethiopia. They are in our hearts forever. We want to build a well in their honor, and in honor of the precious birth families of our children.

But even more than this, we seek to serve our God and answer his call to care for the poor. Matthew 25 inspires us to love Him by loving them:

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me . . . I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.”

Will you help us? Our goal is to raise $5,000 by December 23 to build a well. Once our well is funded, it takes 12-18 months to build. Once it’s finished, Charity: Water will send us pictures and the GPS coordinates so that we can find OUR well on Google Maps. Hooray! I can’t wait.

Like I mentioned, Charity: Water does amazing work. They’ve already built several wells in the community where Josiah and Evelyn were born. They build wells in Central African Republic, Cote d’Ivoire, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Ethiopia, Kenya, Liberia, Malawi, Rwanda, Sierra Leone, Tanzania, Uganda, Bangladesh, India, and Cambodia, also Haiti and Honduras.

Here is our challenge to you: What would YOU sell to help us build a well? I’ve already committed to selling my china. I also found my Buffet Clarinet in my closet . . . it’s going. We’re also planning a garage sale for this fall. We’re hoping that, by selling our unneeded stuff, our family will be able to meet at least $1500 of our $5000 goal.

What are you willing to sell? What is taking up space in your home that could be turned into clean water for people in desperate need? Please help us. Please take a step of obedience and give something up for people that need water.

We’re asking you to pledge in the comments section what you will sell. Then, once you’ve sold your stuff, you can visit our fundraising page and donate your money.

Again, our goal is $5,000 by December 23. With all the junk that we will be tempted to purchase for the holidays, surely we can make some small sacrifices to make a huge difference for people in need.