Month: January 2014

The REAL battle this weekend

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NOTE: The topic and the links I’m sharing are not comfortable.

A year and a half ago I wrote an article (it’s on page four of the link) about two American women who provide dignified employment for at-risk women in Bangladesh, a country known for its sex slave industry. At the same time my husband, Dave, was teaching a new class at Wheaton Academy titled Culture and Theology. One of the units in the class was modern-day slavery, so we were both researching the issue and how it impacts every single country, including the U.S., where we live. I read a book titled The White Umbrella about the sex slave trade in the U.S. and about one specific ministry in the Atlanta, Georgia-area that reaches out to girls rescued from it. Dave discovered ministries like End It Movement and Love 146, which fight against human trafficking. At some point in our research, Dave discovered that the Super Bowl creates a huge market for trafficking.

That’s the reason for this particular post at this particular time.

“In 2010, the National Center of Missing and Exploited Children reported that 10,000 women were sold for sex at the Miami Super Bowl.” That quote is from an article published today that calls the Super Bowl a “sex-trafficking magnet.” Here’s a link to the several articles The Huffington Post has recently published on this topic.

Please pray.

Thanks for reading,

Jen

All is not well

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My youngest child had academic testing yesterday. He and I arrived at an office in the morning, and I was ushered into a room and handed three inventories to complete. One had 86 questions; one had 275; the last had 160. Needless to say, they were thorough.

I answered “true” or “yes” to quite a few questions, most of them related to high energy levels and difficulty focusing, and there were others about which I thought, “Well, that doesn’t relate to Patrick but it’s true for Jake”—or Maddie—or Emily—or me! I recognized each of my four children—and myself—in some of the items.

But most of the statements brought me both perspective and gratitude. For every “false” or “no” I checked, that was another issue we were not facing.

I texted some of these to Dave, my husband.

“My child has very low self esteem.”

Um, no.

“My child is painfully shy around new people.”

Definitely not.

Then one of the statements simply made me stop.

#53: “I’m afraid my child is going insane.”

True or False.

And I felt a little sick.

Because, obviously, there must be parents who have to mark “true.”

We each have troubles we can talk about, things like frustrations with our children or our parents, illnesses and actual losses.

But there is also a list of unmentionables we generally keep hidden: addiction, mental illness, rage issues, money troubles, marital conflict…

Our voices literally hush, softened with shame, when we speak of those. If we speak of those.

When the testing finished for the day, Patrick and I put on coats, hats, and gloves to brave the deep cold. Our drive home took us past the middle-class suburban neighborhoods I drive through nearly every day. One after another, the homes presented neat, tidy fronts. Trim siding and smoke from the chimneys proclaimed “All is well!” but I wondered about the unmentionable topics hid away inside. If I slipped an inventory under each door, which ones would come back with “true” marked for #53? Which ones would affirm “I’m afraid in my own home,” “My child is a real threat to himself or others,” or “One of the child’s parents continually threatens abandonment”?

No adults shoveled driveways; no children played in the snow. The cold had driven everyone inside.

Where secrets can be kept, and unmentionables are lived out.

All is not well.

Oh come, Lord Jesus, come.

And in the meantime, help your people to see and speak.

Praying for Sudan today

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This past weekend Dave and I watched most of the documentary God Grew Tired of Us about the Lost Boys of Sudan who left their homes during the long, drawn-out war between north Sudan and south Sudan (as of 2011 a separate country). Thousands upon thousands of South Sudanese were displaced by the conflict, among them 20,000 boys who trekked their way to Ethiopia, finding relief (those who didn’t die on the long journey) of a sort in refugee camps there. Violence forced them to move again, and those who survived eventually settled in camps in Kenya. They were dubbed the “lost boys of Sudan,” and the documentary tells the story of a few who were eventually relocated in the United States (you can watch it free on Hulu). It isn’t short, so if you are interested, you’ll need to set aside a couple hours to watch it. Warning: there’s footage and pictures of boys close to death from starvation, so not one to watch with small children. There is another film (which I have not seen) on this story titled, appropriately, Lost Boys of Sudan.

This is a popular topic, made so by the films and books written on it and by the involvement of the actor George Clooney. Due to the publicity, many of the lost boys who settled in the U.S. were able to begin relief work in their country and to advocate for their country’s separation from northern Sudan. When South Sudan gained its independence, many of them returned to celebrate. However, violence has broken out in Sudan again. John Bul Dau explains the conflict well in an article by National Geographic. Here’s another article about it at the New York Times. South Sudanese are being displaced once again.

I know this is only one of hundreds of conflicts in our world today, one of hundreds of issues that grieve God’s heart, but it’s the particular one I prayed for this morning. I was reading Isaiah 63, and this verse jumped out at me: “I (God) was amazed to see that no one intervened to help the oppressed. So I myself stepped in to save them with my strong arm, and my wrath sustained me” (verse 5). The “oppressed” who came to my mind when I read that were the South Sudanese. I did some quick research, read about the current conflict, and wanted to share.

ADDITION: World Vision, of course, is already in the area and taking donations for their efforts. Here’s the link if you want to read more/donate: World Vision.

The “why” of Bible reading

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When I open my online “Read through the Bible in a Year” program, it tells me I am on day 275 of 365.

That’s true, but it’s taken me quite a bit more than 275 days to get to this point. I don’t remember exactly when I started this plan, but right about the time I started falling behind in it, I discovered the “catch me up” button at the bottom of each daily reading list.

At first I felt guilty, as if I were a woman on a diet sneaking cookies.

But I don’t feel guilty now.

Not long ago I downloaded The Pursuit of God by A.W. Tozer to my Kindle. He wrote this in his preface to the book: “The Bible is not an end in itself, but a means to bring men to an intimate and satisfying knowledge of God, that they may enter into Him, that they may delight in His Presence, may taste and know the inner sweetness of the very God Himself in the core and center of their hearts.”

I reflected on Tozer’s words in my journal. Why do I study Scripture? I wrote. That is a necessary question to answer. If my desire, as I read, study, and meditate, is not to know God better; to be more awed by His beauty and goodness; to be convinced more fully of His love for me; to be satisfied in Him and by Him—if all this is not my aim, then I may as well read another book.

Christ did not die for me to make me a Bible scholar; He died so I could have relationship with His Father. The only point in being a Bible scholar, then, is to deepen my knowledge of and relationship with God.

Yet other purposes often take over when I read Scripture. Sometimes I am seeking a particular answer to a theological question. Sometimes I simply want to know more just to know more (and I don’t mean that in a good way). My purposes can get even further from what they should be when I am following a reading plan. I like to see the little checkmarks fill in the empty circles on the reading calendar. I like the completion aspect of it. “Well, I got through Leviticus and Numbers. Now let’s tackle Deuteronomy.”

It can become a homework assignment; something to “get through.”

And when I don’t complete it, I experience guilt.

All these purposes cheapen both God and His Word.

Early last fall, my mother-in-law sent me a devotional she’d written for me to edit. The title was “Encountering God.” She wrote this: One way I encounter God that is such a thrill is when I draw near to Him before beginning my Quiet Time. I deliberately turn my focus to His presence. In my mind, I see Him standing before me. I focus my mind on Him, blocking out all else around me. Then I pray: Father God, I draw near to You, and in faith, I receive You drawing near to me. I see Him smiling at me and then coming near to embrace me with His Strong Arms. My soul is filled with delight as I allow myself to feel His embrace and His love for me pouring out through his loving arms. 

He never fails me. When I draw near to Him, He is always ready, and He graciously draws me close to His heart. These encounters strengthen my faith and hope in the One Who calls me His very own special treasure.

If I prepared for Bible reading and study like that, I would see and treasure Scripture as the very words of God. I would be unconcerned with “getting it done” and completely consumed with seeing God revealed in Scripture.

I share this post because a new year began only 21 days ago, and I know that many Christians resolve to read the Bible more in the new year than they did in the old. I certainly don’t want to discourage anyone from reading Scripture—it’s still the Sword of the Spirit even when we don’t approach it as such—and I know we gain much from reading the entire Word of God…

but we gain God Himself, and not just knowledge ABOUT Him, when we read His Word with anticipation and awe.

*For a great article about yearly Bible reading plans, read Bible Gateway’s article “When Reading the Bible Becomes a Chore: Six Ways to Keep Your Bible Reading on Track This Year.”

*Bible Gateway also has a variety of Bible reading plans. Visit this page.

Skipping the “A” in the ABCs

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Jake! (In the fake mustache, he makes me think of author Agatha Christie's Detective Poirot, famous for his "little grey cells"!

Jake! (In the fake mustache, he makes me think of author Agatha Christie’s Detective Poirot, famous for his “little grey cells”!)

“Pride goes before destruction,” says the King James Version of Proverbs 16:18, “and a haughty spirit before a fall.” Here’s how the Message puts it: “First pride, then the crash—the bigger the ego, the harder the fall.”

Wise words.

The “crash” can range in severity and form. For me today it was an edginess, a tendency to blame everything on someone other than myself. Sarcastic retorts were my first responses, and a couple times I didn’t bite my tongue fast enough to keep them in. I should have worn a sign that read, “Leave me alone—for your own good!” I didn’t know what I wanted. I didn’t know why I felt so terribly grouchy. I couldn’t pinpoint any particular person or event that legitimately could be the cause.

I fought back. This is not me, I told myself. I can control this. I can change this attitude.

I’ll just grit my teeth and smile, smile, smile.

It didn’t work. Well, outwardly it did, sort of. But nothing changed inside.

I went for a walk at the dog park. Cold air, outdoors, the physical effort of breaking a path through nearly knee-height snowfall—those are all things I love.

But that didn’t work either. I still wanted to bite the head off the first person I saw.

Poor person.

At home I continued my battle to snap myself out of it.

Until I sank into it and waved the white flag.

The truth, I finally acknowledged, is that the edgy, grumpy, sarcastic, self-centered person I’d been all day IS me. With all masks and Southern “lady” upbringing stripped aside, the true me is self-righteous, self-focused, and accusatory.

I looked out the window at the bright snow that blanketed the patio. “I’m not feeling too clean right now, Lord,” I prayed. “Feeling pretty stained, pretty dirty.”

The bulletin from the morning church service was next to me. I looked at the Old Testament Scripture reading from Jeremiah 31. God said, “With weeping they shall come, and with pleas for mercy I will lead them back. I will make them walk by brooks of water, in a straight path in which they shall not stumble…” (Jeremiah 31-verse 9).

I’d been doing nothing all day but stumbling, tripping, and falling all over myself in my attempts to be a “nice” person on my own. I sighed with relief. You say You will lead me back, Lord. I don’t have to find the way myself.

I read further: “’(M)y people shall be satisfied with my goodness,’ declares the Lord.” (verse 14)

That was the root of my problem. I’d been satisfied with my own goodness—till I discovered it was anything but good!

Several years ago, when Em was 10, the twins 6, and PJ only 4, Em shared with the entire family the ABCs of salvation she’d learned in Sunday School. “A is Admit you’re a sinner,” she told us. “B is Believe that Jesus paid for your sins. C is Choose to follow Christ.”

“Hmm,” Jake said. “I think I’ll take B and C.”

Funny–but true.

Too often I still want to drop the A. I want to have some personal righteousness to boast about.

But I don’t! And mercy isn’t sweet and grace isn’t beautiful unless I see how desperately I need it.

And I’m not really following Christ unless I’m following Him as my only hope.

‘Tis more blessed…

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If “‘Tis more blessed to give than to receive” is true–and I believe it is–then on Saturday night I was doubly blessed.

It seemed unfair to use the Christmas gift I gave him before he had a chance to even try it out…

But I did.

Up early and gone all day for one child’s wrestling meet, driving to and from the girls’ soccer practice in the late afternoon, I lost daylight time for my run with the dog.

So I strapped on the headlamp I’d given Dave so he could run in the early-morning dark…

and drove myself and Chai to the dog park so I could try it out in the late.

Snow glittered before me. I ran on fairy dust. In the light of the headlamp, the dog’s eyes glowed weirdly–orange from the side, green head-on, and red when she was close. Pleased with her first off-leash run since before Christmas day, Chai sprinted past me. For a moment, as snow fell in front of me, spotlit in the lamp’s circle, I thought the forecaster’s prediction of next-day flurries had come early and sudden. But when it stopped just as quickly and then happened again when Chai did another fly by, I realized she was kicking it up with her paws.

A siren wailed in the distance, and deep in the woods, the coyotes echoed. Ahead of me, Chai paused to listen. Then–they must have been too far away to awaken either concern or longing–she bent her head and chomped up some packed snow, the canine version of shaved ice, flavored with who-knows-what.

The trees’ tops were lost to the night, but in my peripheral vision, their trunks floated like gray stripes on a dark suit. Hit with the direct light of the headlamp, though, they appeared almost white, bleached of color.

I felt no fear, except that my rule-keeping mind expected a policeman any moment to remind me that the dog park closed at dusk, and it was well past.

When Dave got home from cleaning up after the wrestling meet, I told him I tried out his present. “Thank you,” I said.

“How did it work?” he asked.

“Great!” I told him how beautiful the run had been. “It worked wonderfully. You’ll love using it.”

“Well, then, thank you,” he told me.

‘Tis better to give than to receive.

True.

But perhaps giving and receiving, when done wholeheartedly, are more connected than I’d realized.