On The Importance of Things....

I've been thinking a lot about the emphasis we place on different things vs. their actual importance. It's actually a really depressing train of thought. It doesn't take one long to encounter things in society, the church, and more alarmingly, in one's self that are really poorly prioritized. Not all of these apply to every person, and each of us have blind spots, but I just have some questions.

When did modesty become more important than poverty?

It seems every week I see some new blog post from a guy, pleading with his Christian sisters to dress modestly. I see pricy swim wear, which could double as a snowmobile suit, and another link to another sermon about the importance of modesty. I think I've been to more camps and conferences that touch on modesty than ones that touch on poverty too. To go to such and such a camp, you must wear clothes within certain guidelines, but they never talk about how much of your income you should give to the poor. Modesty is important, but scripture has two verses about it, yet the gospel was DESIGNED for the poor. How does this work?

How does 'raising a good family' take precedence over evangelism?

'Right now we're just focused on raising our family.' 'My ministry right now is my children.' May I make an observation? Is it possible that it is IMPOSSIBLE to raise a godly family without an emphasis on evangelism? Maybe sheltering our children is doing more harm than good. If our youth see sin as sin, in the context of reaching sinners, maybe it will look less attractive to them. If they are constantly renewed in the joy of their salvation by sharing that joy and truth with others, maybe it will sink in and stick around. Perhaps it is the wisdom of God that He commands us to make disciples. Nothing beats discipling for keeping one on one's toes spiritually.

A baby from last March

Why do we think it is more important to get to church on time, than to live the gospel?

How is it that we'd rather create family discord, ignore the stranded commuter on the side of the road, and skip sharing with the gas station attendant in order to get to church on time? It might be more holy to live the gospel, than to go to church. And maybe we'll be radical and strange, but possibly that will make Christianity attractive and authentic. Maybe if we give up 'saving face' at church and focus on saving souls, the Christ will be more accurately represented. He often stopped to talk with a blind man, or paused his 'schedule' to make time for the children.

When did our needs become more important than the church?

Why is it now legitimate to stay home from church because you 'didn't have the energy'? And at what point does the excuse, 'I'm just not being fed' need to be turned into the question 'Who are you feeding?" Yeah, church requires energy, and many times, may I say MOST OF THE TIME we will feel like we are doing more giving than receiving. But when did this become all about us? Can the hand say to the mouth,"I feel like I'm doing more giving than receiving?" Where is the concept of laying down our lives for our brethren?

Why is it ok to debate theology at the risk of unity?

When did Christians get this concept of needing to be right, and to make sure everyone else is too? Maybe its time we realize that we've all got a few things right, and a lot of things wrong, and are probably completely ignorant as to which things fall into each category. Possibly it would behoove us to see that music styles, preference on alcohol intake, and handshake vs. holy kiss are not salvation issues, and don't need to be matters of division. Even 'more major' issues SHOULD NOT come between two people who believe the basics of the gospel. Maybe the diversity in beliefs and traditions is actually a beautiful statement about how big God is, and how He loves variety. Maybe different denominations each represent a different aspect of a massive God as each has understanding to do. And since people are to know us by our love one toward another, lets allow that to cross denominational boundaries.

Why is it ok to buy a $5 coffee, but financially irresponsible to give generously and live by faith?

Why can people 'go out' after church events, but missionaries are ill-funded? When some people drive an old car, rent a small apartment, and spend a lot on missions work, I have heard them described as 'unstable' or 'financially irresponsible'. Yet when the next person over has a $5 per day coffee habit, is making car payments, and does not involve themselves in missions, I hear them described as 'trying to get ahead' and 'settling down'. We have this backwards. Investing in eternity is wise, no matter the cost. Investing in this life is dangerous. Where our treasure is will dictate where our heart puts down roots.

Please, dear reader, do not take all of these thoughts in a wrong way. I'm asking questions. I'm processing. I'm preparing to come back to a life I once knew, but with a completely different perspective and as a result, I'm questioning values I once held and actions I once justified. Yes, there are two sides to all of these issues. And yes, I'm offering one perspective. But these are my raw thoughts based on life as I see it right now. Will they change over time? I hope so. I welcome your thoughts as part of this process. Peace out.

I'm Dying....

.... And so are you.

It's been that way since I was born. Because life is a terminal diagnosis. We're all dying, some just faster than others. I just wish we would live a little more that way. Like the dying people we are, savoring moments,  speaking kind words, and making decisions count.

Dying people tend to consider eternity in their decisions.  They make choices to maximize their time and money. They take risks because risks seem less risky when nothing is sure anyways.  Dying people do things now, because later might not come. Visits and conversations are ended with care just in case. Even to those who categorize themselves as 'living' rather than 'dying' there is nothing sure in this life... we must each realize that we're dying.

Do you know what else we should realize? That everyone else is dying too. You don't tend to focus on the faults of dying people, you want to stay positive and uplifting. That habit would benefit every relationship we have. Zoom in on the good things and let the ick around it all drift out of focus. The picture book of our lives would be so much more lovely. As would our speech.

If we really understood that there is no cure for death, how would we live differently? Would we invest more in people than things? Would we take time to tell the dying people around us about eternal living? About LIFE and that more abundantly? Would we focus more on appearance or on character? I think we would fit more living into life.

Maybe if we knew we were dying, church would become Christians loving Christians, and we would tell other people our life story in order to introduce them to the LIFE in our story. Because if we were dying, we'd realize that we have a finite number of minutes to share the Joy and the Truth, and that at any time our meter might be up. And we'd understand that if we ever plan to change the world or the way we interact with it, this is our chance.

Would we prioritize the important over the urgent? The needs of others above our own? Would we be slower to speak unkind things and more sincere and timely in apology when we did? Would we give sooner than taking? If we really comprehended the inevitability of dying, which issues in our lives would we shift to the 'No Big Deal' list?

We take care of dying people, and we usually cut them some slack.... if we realize they're dying. We cherish them and try to make their lives easier. We look after the well-being of their souls. We make sacrifices on their behalf and give up our comfort for theirs.
Essentially, we give them the best of everything we have. And we listen to them too. Because they're dying, after all. And somehow the status of dying makes you more important.

So guess what. You're dying. And so is everyone else. Maybe it is time we start living that way.

Who am I?

Who am I?

It's like the great question of all time. I think most people spend significant portions of their lives trying to figure this out. What people don't seem to 'get' is that in real, alive people, that is constantly changing. So is our image of who we want to become. Sometimes we don't realize how much it is shaped by our decisions as well as the influences in our lives. And how little we really do understand ourselves.

Lately, I have been going through an identity crisis. I'm just putting that out there, all honest and stuff. See, my time here is wrapping up, and while I still see my life calling as one of missions, does one really identify as a missionary while between assignments? And if not a missionary, what? I have no job, no distinct social group, no permanent location.... so many of the little identifying details of my life are in limbo right now.

So there will be people who tell me, "your identity is in Christ". Yes. That is true, but only so helpful. Because while Christ is the core of my being, He has also made me a goal oriented person. And honestly, most of the time people say things like "You don't have to be yourself, you just have to be like Jesus" or "Your identity is in Christ" , what they are really saying is, here is my perception of Christ-like behavior, and a church you should probably identify with. That isn't a criticism. It is simply a very human trait of projecting our expectations onto other people. We all do it.

Who am I and what has become of the Melissa I used to know? Sometimes I wonder. I love my life here, but it is surrounded by people. I am never alone. And the super friendly, always smiling, energetic, ready-to-meet-new-people version of me has necessarily adapted. I'm like a laptop on battery settings.... I am conserving energy. Is this who I've become, or is it just a phase? Eh.... we'll see. I still dance and sing and smile, it's all good. Life is a process of becoming.

I was reminded the other day, of when I graduated from college. I clearly remember saying, "I once again find myself in the very healthy but uncomfortable position of having absolutely no clue what is next." And I thought of the last three times I found myself at that place. As Psalms encourages us to do, I remembered the goodness of the Lord at all those times. I remember how God placed opportunities in my life that were beyond belief, and how my life just kept taking amazing turns. And it gave me hope. I should probably have this down by now, but if I'm straightforward, I still like to feel like I'm in control.

Controlled, risk-free surrender. I think that is what I want. It's a total oxymoron though, so that is another thing I'm going to have to let go of. I'm actually a little afraid of coming back to the US. I'm afraid that everything will have changed, and at the same time, that nothing will have changed. I'm afraid of getting too comfortable, I'm afraid of not finding a niche, and I'm afraid of leaving somewhere that has been so wonderful and transformative. Actually, maybe those fears apply to anywhere, ya know? Because humans are humans no matter where we are. We sin, we lose focus, and we sometimes get so caught up in 'Christianity' that it is an act of habit, not an act of love.

So basically I've concluded that moving back to the States is outside of my comfort zone. Ah, a perfect place to be. I expect that God will shake me up a bit, and root out a few things that have settled in too deeply. I don't really know what else to expect. To date, I've had no supernatural revelations of how I should direct my steps. But oh! The mercy of the Lord as we daily rely on Him for every decision. So yeah, on a lot of levels I am trying to answer the question, "Who am I?" just like everybody else is.

I revel in the fact that God is the same, no matter which country I serve Him from. It seems incredible to me that He is big enough to boggle our minds, and yet He is unchanging. And I find myself astounded at the great wisdom of a God who understood how important it would be for us to know, "I am the Lord, I change not". Maybe who I am isn't all that important as long as I'm sure of who He is.

Do You Want Her?

She was cute. That's what I thought from the second she walked in with her white and red polka-dotted dress. She was also really afraid. It took a lot of coaxing and reassurance just to walk her through the normal admittance procedure. If I'd had to guess, I would've said it was her first, but she already has a little girl. She was just so.... lost. She latched on to me pretty quickly, and thereafter never let me leave her side.

Her support person was her sister in law. A bundle of giggles, I'm not sure how much support she really was. Her interest was piqued when she found out that we had milk and Milo for the patients. She lost no time in preparing one for the patient, and another for herself. And she giggled. Really, she giggled through the whole thing. Even amidst the intensity of the baby's very emergence, she was falling off her chair in giggles and snorts. Not much help, it seemed.

But where was the husband? The father of this baby? He's not around anymore. He's gone. So when she pulled me over and had me squat down so that I was the right height for support, I knew I was all she had. I didn't scold her when she wrapped her arms around my neck and gripped tightly with the pain. I had become more than just a set of hands to welcome her baby. We prayed and we breathed and then it was time.

Nothing else existed in the moment of birth. Not the sister-in-law who was falling off her chair in giggles nearby, not the extra hands that came to help, and not the baby initiating her vocal cords in the next bed. She responded to my words of comfort and my encouragement to relax and let go of her fear. Our eyes locked, and we worked together to get that tiny girl safely into the world. A deep, deep sigh, and her head laid back and her eyes closed. Her hands found the new little one placed on her belly.

The nose was too flat. Momma kept pinching it. She told me she wanted her baby's nose to be tall like mine, so she kept pinching it. The upside is, baby just survived birth and seemed not to notice the small discomfort that was nasal reshaping therapy. I admired her baby's beauty as I began the newborn exam.

"Do you want her?"

My eyes darted to the mother's face, trying to reassure my quickening pulse that she was teasing.

"Do you want her? You can adopt her."

Her face was serious, and her sister-in-law repeated the question. I wasn't sure if I should feel flattered, horrified, or just heartbroken. And although reason tried to quell it, something deep inside me was screaming "Yes, yes, yes, YES!". Because she was precious and beautiful and I DO want a baby. Something wanted to treasure this tiny soul as she deserves to be treasured and that same something recoiled from the thought of a mother so willing to part with her new daughter.

"But she's yours, and she's perfect and she's beautiful."

"No, you can have her. You can take her to America and she can be yours."

In the absence of proper words, I defaulted to my nervous giggle. Act like its a joke. We finished up the exam and I focused on helping Momma and baby bond. Little girl was carefully cared for, even loved I think.  Probably her life will be tough with no Daddy to take care of her. I cannot change that even if I could consider adopting her. But I can pray that she will be loved. And I can trust, because I know there is One Daddy who will gladly adopt her. She will never have to ask Him "Do you want me?" because He's already signed her adoption papers with His blood.