Try telling someone you're moving to Beirut, Lebanon. The immediate silence can be hard to decipher; they thought they heard wrong, they're trying to grasp what it would take to get them there, they think we're crazy and want to be nice. But the eventual response is almost always explosive:
WOW!! From the ATT rep closing my business phone line. A violin students' parent. My neighbor from Chicago. Macy's cashier. The luthier reconditioning my violin for the move. The shoe salesman helping me get a good pair of walking shoes. The UPS man. Our entire church. My sister.
Actually, she heard our news just days after a car-bombing in downtown Beirut an easy 15 minutes from Middle East University--with no traffic. She wailed. It was her embellished, extreme version of WOW!!
I should be used to everyone's astonishment by now.
Even though I admit I can't get my own mind around such a new and far away idea, it seems like the most....the most natural thing in the world. Maybe that's because Beirut is only the clinching decision at the end of a long, long line of personal steps and landmark miracles that we've experienced in the last 15 years. (To me a miracle is anything God does beyond my control that we can't do for ourselves. Which is just about everything.)
I can't list them all. But we began recording the unexplainable nearly three years ago.
In the spring of 2010, Larry was facing a crazy summer. Michigan campmeeting, General Conference Session, and the Montana Mission trip alone crossed off nearly seven weeks of the summer. Ehren and Erina's wedding was tucked in between all that, then five days in Australia. The obvious: He simply couldn't take more time to accept a request to go to Cyprus for dialoging with others about the Muslim faith and culture. We both agreed that his ministry and his family needed him at home. I felt good about the decision; I was relieved.
Somewhere in late spring Ehren came home from Korea--and the crisis bubbling in the north--to get ready for the wedding and return with his bride for another year of teaching English. But, thinking like a new husband, he wondered about the safety issues, the city life, the pace for his new wife. "Mom, I was surfing the internet and I've found this place in Cyprus where we could go work; they're looking for a couple to run a community center."
I had no idea if it was church related, if it paid anything, if it was short-term or long-term. I just know when I mentioned it to Larry his face fell. Cyprus? Why would Ehren go there? Who's he talking to? Where would he be working? What would he be doing? Why is this coming up now? Of all places in the world. Larry almost whispered it. "That's where I should be going."
A few days later, with no extra time to follow through on arrangements, he came to me, "I can't say why God would want Ehren to go to Cyprus, but I know He's gotten my attention; I am certain He wants me in Cyprus." Within 24 hours the flights were rebooked, the plans replaced. I gulped.
But I had learned years earlier--when I chafed for seven of the ten weeks he spent in Ukraine--why I need to keep my hands off what he felt he should do. Before leaving for his first overseas trip ever, he had bought me ten presents, each wrapped and numbered, to open every Friday night. At first I couldn't see the meaning of such an investment; instead I saw dollar signs on each gift, small as they were. I even resented how much he'd spent on wrapping and ribbon.
Then I opened the seventh gift--a porcelain refrigerator magnet. Circled by a wreath of hand-painted pink lilies were three simple words, "You Are Loved." How impressive can that be? Extremely, if you're not certain and if your husband is on the other side of the world. The thought hit me with profound meaning. And I chose to accept it. In that moment my heart heard, I was touched.
I heard Larry telling me he would rather be with me than in a strange country, isolated by an unfamiliar language, sleeping on couches, eating food he'd never known before. He'd rather be surrounded by our sons than preaching his heart out to strangers. He'd rather live a comfortable, predictable life with those he loved. Instead...he was doing what God had asked him to do. It was a bit of a stretch for me to cheerfully give up my husband to the other side of the world--but to keep our love. Yet that night I discovered I had lost nothing at all by letting God do what God chose to do. I was loved!
What is distance, or inconvenience, or sacrifice when I am loved? What could I possibly lose by supporting someone I love? If I share their vision, isn't their experience my experience, their benefit mine as well? How much of a blessing could I ever miss by "letting go" to Someone who loves us both? And, more than anything else, shouldn't others have a glimpse of His love too?
The three days Larry spent in Cyprus that summer were pivotal. Larry sensed it during the days he spent with his hosts learning about the culture they served, as they immersed him in the thought world of the Middle East and discussed the comparisons of Islam and Christianity. For Larry it was an introduction to a new world...one that most Christians and even fewer Adventists understand.
It only takes a few times in one's life of being absolutely wrong about what "God's will is" to learn a hesitancy, a deep uncertainty about my opinion of what I think should happen, what I think is best. I am so relieved God holds Himself accountable for accomplishing great good from His will.
I have only one very simple request of His plans: I'm OK with the investment of time and distance and energy and sacrifice if, in all that we are called to do, we see some evidence that God has been with us, able to use us to be a blessing to others.
Maybe that's why I'm always surprised when folk are stopped short by our plans. I can't say WOW, I'm moving to Lebanon. What is more impressive to me is all that God has done to move us along this far. He's changed so much in my heart, to bring me to this place. He's confirmed He's willing to use us to be an encouragement and a blessing to friends in Lebanon I don't even know yet! That's WOW!
Of course, when I finally land in Beirut a few months from now, I will probably be the one saying WOW, this is really different. WOW, this is challenging. WOW, this is a bigger dream than I thought. WOW, I need so much.
But right now we can trace a long path behind us; this journey started long ago and each day is just another step along the way that says, OK, what do I do now, God?
WOW!! From the ATT rep closing my business phone line. A violin students' parent. My neighbor from Chicago. Macy's cashier. The luthier reconditioning my violin for the move. The shoe salesman helping me get a good pair of walking shoes. The UPS man. Our entire church. My sister.
Actually, she heard our news just days after a car-bombing in downtown Beirut an easy 15 minutes from Middle East University--with no traffic. She wailed. It was her embellished, extreme version of WOW!!
I should be used to everyone's astonishment by now.
Even though I admit I can't get my own mind around such a new and far away idea, it seems like the most....the most natural thing in the world. Maybe that's because Beirut is only the clinching decision at the end of a long, long line of personal steps and landmark miracles that we've experienced in the last 15 years. (To me a miracle is anything God does beyond my control that we can't do for ourselves. Which is just about everything.)
I can't list them all. But we began recording the unexplainable nearly three years ago.
In the spring of 2010, Larry was facing a crazy summer. Michigan campmeeting, General Conference Session, and the Montana Mission trip alone crossed off nearly seven weeks of the summer. Ehren and Erina's wedding was tucked in between all that, then five days in Australia. The obvious: He simply couldn't take more time to accept a request to go to Cyprus for dialoging with others about the Muslim faith and culture. We both agreed that his ministry and his family needed him at home. I felt good about the decision; I was relieved.
Somewhere in late spring Ehren came home from Korea--and the crisis bubbling in the north--to get ready for the wedding and return with his bride for another year of teaching English. But, thinking like a new husband, he wondered about the safety issues, the city life, the pace for his new wife. "Mom, I was surfing the internet and I've found this place in Cyprus where we could go work; they're looking for a couple to run a community center."
I had no idea if it was church related, if it paid anything, if it was short-term or long-term. I just know when I mentioned it to Larry his face fell. Cyprus? Why would Ehren go there? Who's he talking to? Where would he be working? What would he be doing? Why is this coming up now? Of all places in the world. Larry almost whispered it. "That's where I should be going."
A few days later, with no extra time to follow through on arrangements, he came to me, "I can't say why God would want Ehren to go to Cyprus, but I know He's gotten my attention; I am certain He wants me in Cyprus." Within 24 hours the flights were rebooked, the plans replaced. I gulped.
But I had learned years earlier--when I chafed for seven of the ten weeks he spent in Ukraine--why I need to keep my hands off what he felt he should do. Before leaving for his first overseas trip ever, he had bought me ten presents, each wrapped and numbered, to open every Friday night. At first I couldn't see the meaning of such an investment; instead I saw dollar signs on each gift, small as they were. I even resented how much he'd spent on wrapping and ribbon.
Then I opened the seventh gift--a porcelain refrigerator magnet. Circled by a wreath of hand-painted pink lilies were three simple words, "You Are Loved." How impressive can that be? Extremely, if you're not certain and if your husband is on the other side of the world. The thought hit me with profound meaning. And I chose to accept it. In that moment my heart heard, I was touched.
I heard Larry telling me he would rather be with me than in a strange country, isolated by an unfamiliar language, sleeping on couches, eating food he'd never known before. He'd rather be surrounded by our sons than preaching his heart out to strangers. He'd rather live a comfortable, predictable life with those he loved. Instead...he was doing what God had asked him to do. It was a bit of a stretch for me to cheerfully give up my husband to the other side of the world--but to keep our love. Yet that night I discovered I had lost nothing at all by letting God do what God chose to do. I was loved!
What is distance, or inconvenience, or sacrifice when I am loved? What could I possibly lose by supporting someone I love? If I share their vision, isn't their experience my experience, their benefit mine as well? How much of a blessing could I ever miss by "letting go" to Someone who loves us both? And, more than anything else, shouldn't others have a glimpse of His love too?
The three days Larry spent in Cyprus that summer were pivotal. Larry sensed it during the days he spent with his hosts learning about the culture they served, as they immersed him in the thought world of the Middle East and discussed the comparisons of Islam and Christianity. For Larry it was an introduction to a new world...one that most Christians and even fewer Adventists understand.
It only takes a few times in one's life of being absolutely wrong about what "God's will is" to learn a hesitancy, a deep uncertainty about my opinion of what I think should happen, what I think is best. I am so relieved God holds Himself accountable for accomplishing great good from His will.
I have only one very simple request of His plans: I'm OK with the investment of time and distance and energy and sacrifice if, in all that we are called to do, we see some evidence that God has been with us, able to use us to be a blessing to others.
Maybe that's why I'm always surprised when folk are stopped short by our plans. I can't say WOW, I'm moving to Lebanon. What is more impressive to me is all that God has done to move us along this far. He's changed so much in my heart, to bring me to this place. He's confirmed He's willing to use us to be an encouragement and a blessing to friends in Lebanon I don't even know yet! That's WOW!
Of course, when I finally land in Beirut a few months from now, I will probably be the one saying WOW, this is really different. WOW, this is challenging. WOW, this is a bigger dream than I thought. WOW, I need so much.
But right now we can trace a long path behind us; this journey started long ago and each day is just another step along the way that says, OK, what do I do now, God?
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