One Handful of Rice

  Yesterday Western Seminary in Portland honored Dr. Mary Wilder for her many years of teaching the History of Missions and for the loving guidance and friendship she’s given to staffmembers and students over the years.

I first met Dr. Mary when I took a course called the History of Women in Missions. I don’t even know if she was paid for teaching the course that term because there were only two of us in the class! I was so taken by the wisdom and knowledge of this woman who had been a medical missionary to Pakistan for seventeen years. Dr. Mary came off the mission field when she needed to be caretaker of her ailing parents and she never returned. But oh, the stories she has to tell. Heartbreaking stories of young women dying needlessly because the men in the family wouldn’t allow them medical care, funny stories of cultural miscues, and always the warmth and affection of this woman who always says, “The safest place you can be is in God’s will.” Dr. Mary often signs her name, “Mary Wilder than ever.” I just love her.

When Roger was seeking direction for his work abroad I took him to meet Dr. Mary. It seemed like the right thing to do. Sure enough, her desk mirrored the Boar’s Nest (Roger’s office) and they became instant friends. Dr. Mary heard a bit of Roger’s story and stopped the conversation to introduce him to Dr. Galen Currah who in turn introduced him to Dr. George Patterson and…before we knew it Roger was being mentored in all things related to house church and the work in India was birthed.

I was given permission in my missions course to focus on India as I wanted to be able to support Roger’s travel there. My own travel had not yet been revealed:) I learned so much in that course and the knowledge gave me a good foundation for understanding Indian history and culture.

I’d travel many miles to give honor to Dr. Mary. She is a truly humble servant of God whose life experiences make her a rich resource for those fortunate enough to spend time with her. Oh, one more thing–she always has chocolate to share with friends.

  Last night Roger and I braved the rainstorm and drove down to the Queen of Peace church in Salem where Julie Hoy did her annual Christmas Concert. And, believe me, it was worth the drive. Julie did some traditional Christmas songs in the traditional, beautiful way, and then did a few with some upbeat treatments including drum, bass and wailing harmonica. She also did many of her own songs as she is a gifted writer as well as performer. I enjoyed every song in the show.

But the song I loved the most came after Julie talked about her latest trip to southern Mexico where she and her group work with an orphanage and provide education for a number of children. Sound familiar? Of course I was all ears by then and paid close attention to the lyrics of the song. “I have seen hunger, I have seen pain….I’ll never be the same.” and “There is no hunger that cannot be filled, there is no broken heart that won’t be made whole…God in His mercy has given His love…And we’ll never be the same.”

I know Julie from Oregon Christian Writers. I loved her spirit the first time I heard her sing. There is just no doubt that she loves God and she is willing to use the considerable gifts He has given to her to encourage and bring the warm fuzzies to others. (I was going to say “bless” but warm fuzzies is good too.) So Julie and I are sisters of the heart. We both know what it means to visit another culture and recoil at the pain, the suffering. But we also know that God is big enough for all of the problems and He alone can bring the kind of healing the world needs. Thanks, Julie for sharing your gift and you’re right, we’ll never be the same.

To All Our Friends and Family. On This Thanksgiving Day may you…

Dress up in your finest

Share your resources  

Take a break from daily tasks 

Eat something special 

Remember those less fortunate

And hang out with good friends.

A very blessed Thanksgiving to all of you from Teams India.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

     CPM’s, church planting movements, was the topic of study in the Jonathan Training Roger did for three weeks in Chang Mai, Thailand. People from all over Asia came to hear teaching on the successful church planting movements going on around the world. CPM’s are startling phenomenons. They begin small and grow rapidly, often with little outside influence or support of any kind. They are true “God-things.” That doesn’t mean they’re without cost, however. Often missionaries suffered or died in the beginnings of such movements and there is often persecution from other faiths or political powers. CPM’s are most successful when the teaching or sharing is done in the heart language of the people. They learn some stories about God, learn some songs, see some healings or other miracles done among their people and the new-found faith spreads exponentially through families and friendship networks.

CPM’s require intentional beginnings with authority quickly given to lay and local leaders. They rely on people willing to share whatever they know whether it be testimonies of their own belief story, Bible stories or songs. They require a certain boldness and certainty that God’s words are true and that Jesus is at the heart of their church experience. Long lists of rules, requirements to leave a culture or people group, financial dependency on Western money–all these things are obstacles to the multiplication that takes place in CPM’s.

Leaders of CPM’s are more caught in a wave of activity than in charge of it. They depend daily on God and not on strategies. They “go with the flow” because each movement is unique to that people group. They must be flexible and willing to be constant learners.

CPM’s are exploding right now in India, China, and some locations in Africa. In one district of China beginning in November 2,000 a CPM grew. It began with seventeen people drawn from three small state churches. This small group was trained in evangelism and discipleship of new believers and how to form house churches. The result was after two months they had twenty small groups formed into churches. Six months after that they had 327 small groups with 4,000 newly baptized believers. Six months later there were 908 house churches and 12,000 new believers. At the end of 2008 it was estimated that there were over two million believers in the area. Names of leaders  and names of towns and districts are not shared for the protection of the people involved.

Each of the participants in the Thailand training are involved in planting house churches. Even the flooding of the area didn’t dampen their spirits as they learned more about the principles involved in reaching a people group with the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Roger will make his way home from Thailand this week. The entire trip will take about thirty-four hours and he’ll be exhausted physically and mentally when he gets home. I know from experience that once jet lag is finished and he re-enters “normal” American daily life, that’s when the real work begins. He’ll be processing all the information given in the workshops. He’ll be experiencing through all his senses the cultural clashes. And most demanding of all, he’ll be processing the ways he can apply all the things he’s heard and learned.

While Roger is going through the shift from one culture to another, Ruth and Jess, our friends from church are experiencing India for the first time. They’re sending back great pictures and I know many of the places they’re visiting. I also know that inside, they’re probably experiencing some culture shock, no matter how much fun they’re having. It’s just not possible to see the poverty and need without for at least a few moments wondering if you could trade places with one of the Indian people. Or could you live there full-time? Could you eat the food and live through the harsh weather conditions? Could you live in a tiny, dark room with a single burner stove and call that home?

For me there is always a fairly painful period of time after I come home in which I weigh all these facts once again and ask myself hard questions. Why was I born in America and why do I have access to plenty of good food? Why do I live in a nice home with comfortable furniture..and so much more. There aren’t easy answers and I always come back to the fact that I can choose to live a generous life of service in the place I find myself, wherever that might be. But I can never take my comfortable life for granted now that I know how so much of the rest of the world lives.

   I was at my writing critique group last evening and it was a bit of a sad time as we said goodbye to one of our members. She’s moving to California to live nearer her family. We’ve enjoyed hearing pieces of her writing and have watched as her work improved over time. We’ve given criticism and praise and received the same from her. We’ve enjoyed a caring relationship with her. It’s hard to let people go when you love them.

I read in II Chronicles last week about a king who died a miserable death. I must say that those strings of kings went from bad to worse. Even the ones who tried to serve the Lord mostly fell apart at the end of their lives. But this guy, named Jehoram took the prize for bad leadership. He was the son of Jehoshaphat as in Jumping … Anyway, the first thing he did after being crowned king was to kill all of his brothers. He didn’t want any competition as he ruled or any plots to overthrow him. He was lacking in filial love and we find that he was married to Ahab’s daughter who grew up in a dysfunctional home herself. (Remember Ahab who was married to Jezebel?) So Jehoram was thirty-two when he became king, he killed most of his own family and then proceeded to worship Baal and other gods. He took the country to war against Edom and shortly after that he received a letter from Elijah the prophet. The news wasn’t good. God was going to strike him down for his sinful ways; he would get sick and at the same time would be attacked on all sides by his enemies. All of that happened and he died with his innards coming out of him… a painful death. But here is the part that struck me:

“…he died in great pain. And his people made no fire for him like the fire for his fathers. He was thirty-two when he became king, and he reigned in Jerusalem eight years; and he departed with no one’s regret, and they buried him in the city of David, but not in the tombs of the kings.”

How tragic. He burned all his bridges and when he left this earth, still a young man, no one at all was sorry to see him go. No one missed him. No one loved him and he was buried in disgrace.

People often think about what words they’d want to have on their tombstone. We usually want people to remember that we loved our family, we served well, we were kind or compassionate–we were a good friend. This poor guy missed the boat all around. He was king of his land for eight years, but died with absolutely no one caring about him. Sad.

 

       My dear husband, Roger, is spending three weeks in Thailand to join in a group discussing church planting movements around the world. The training is at the Mekong Center in Chang Mai. This compound is part of the original Inland China Mission organization started by Hudson Taylor. Many of the people in the training are from China. One of the teachers has been jailed and expelled from China when his church network was discovered. The weather in Chang Mai is in the nineties, but the “feels like” temperature is about 115 degrees. Thankfully he’s able to stay indoors much of the time. I’m getting phone calls with updates, often in the middle of the night as he loses track of the time changes. I can’t wait to hear all he learns.

On another note, my friend Diana Phillips in Allahabad, India has begun a new program to train young Bible School students in telling the stories of the Bible to villagers. As David says in the narration, “In the U.S. we think of Bible Stories as entertainment and training for children. But in a society where many are non-readers, stories are a captivating way to teach the truth about God and Jesus and it’s the way many are led to believe in a loving, personal God. You can watch the u-tube video of Diana teaching on my facebook page.

I love the fact that there is always something new to learn. Often we search for new ways to serve God when actually the old, simple ways are the best and most productive. The villagers in China and India don’t care much for theology, but they sure do care about a God who loves them personally and knows their name.

Do you have the gift of compassion? Jennifer Goodenough does. Recently Roger and I had the privilege of catching up with some old friends, Leon and Jennifer Goodenough, at X-fest out in Skamania County. The G family has grown since we last saw them–they now number eleven. Two are children adopted from Liberia and the rest are home-grown. Mama and Papa and the oldest four children make up the band YmYmFam. They’re a joy to see and hear.

One of Jeni’s offerings at X-Fest caught my heart. She has learned through another family about the plight of handicapped orphans in Ukraine. She’s taken on the cause of helping some of the “least” find homes outside of cribs. Jeni wrote and presented stories written about these little ones who have no hope and no future except as they’re rescued by love. Here is an excerpt from her story: They Told Me She Wasn’t Worth Fighting For. Do you have the gift of compassion? Jeni does. You can follow her blog at http://www.goodenoughfamily.blogspot.com/

My own small girl, fearfully and wonderfully made. I’m amazed that anyone could have ever neglected  her precious body and the important person that she is…before I went and got her and took her home with me. I take her into a warm bath in my arms, breathe on her face and whisper in her ear words of comfort and adoration. I hold her pale hand in the water and slowly open her tight fist. Her fingers keep shutting and I keep caressing them open. Her arms loosen a little. Most of the time they are crossed stiffly across her chest but I can open them and she loves it when I do. I taught her to smile. She’s smiling now. Although people look past her uncomfortably, her friends and family do not. We enjoy looking at her.