Following the Lamb Wherever He Goes

Getting What We Deserve

2012-01-28T20:11:00.000-08:00

"In the event of Servant Partners personnel or their dependents being kidnapped, every effort will be made to secure their release, using the guidelines in the “Security Protocols for Servant Partners Teams” for that specific field. However, consistent with our dependence on God, it is important that workers and their families be aware that it is Servant Partners policy not to pay ransom money, as this would place a price on the lives of other Servant Partners workers."

Sometimes I think I shouldn’t be so faithful about reading the international news reports. I often end up troubled in mind and spirit. For example, this week there is a story about two humanitarian workers who were rescued from Somalian pirates by Navy SEALS. The general response seemed to be, “They (the Somalian pirates) got what they deserved.” All nine were killed.

Most people don’t know that almost all missionaries and humanitarian workers sign an agreement before reporting to the field which says that it is understood that in the case of kidnapping, no ransom will be paid, nor should a rescue attempt be expected. These measures are for the sole purpose of protecting the wider community of foreign workers. Obviously, if kidnappers can expect a nice ransom for kidnapping a missionary or humanitarian worker, then one after another will be kidnapped. And if a daring rescue at any cost can be expected by the foreign workers, then there is little reason to carefully count the cost ahead of time, and minimal deterrent to exercising extreme caution on site. I don’t know if those two workers signed such an agreement, but they certainly knew that they were headed for a dangerous place where anything could happen.

In addition, it struck me that the line about the deaths of the Somalians was as short and unfeeling as mine above. I know, I know: “They were criminals!” “They kidnapped good people!” “They were pirates!” And yet they were also human beings in need of a Savior. Did they have families? Hungry children at home? Is anyone concerned about where they are spending eternity? Or is that part of getting what they deserve?

I think of Paul, who was responsible for the incarceration and deaths of innocent Christian men, women and children. The thief on the cross. The slave trader who wrote “Amazing Grace.” A young man who spoke on our soccer court a few months ago who killed people in cold blood, served a prison term, repented, and now spends his days trying to keep other young people from making bad decisions. And then there’s me. I’m too ashamed to list my sins in this blog, but they are numerous, varied and serious. Thankfully they are also forgiven. And thankfully, like Paul and the other folks I just mentioned, I did not get what I deserved. I got grace. I got another chance – and another – and another. Love came down.

I guess my point is that I think we Christians should be saddened by the death of anyone who has not heard and received the Good News in Jesus Christ. Of course we’re glad that two people who were held captive are now free. Their freedom was bought, however, at a tremendous price. The next time we think, “Good riddance to bad company,” (or some such thing), perhaps we should look in the mirror and be reminded that Jesus died for one such as me.

And I recently signed another one of those ‘no ransom’ agreements with my mission agency, Servant Partners, but certainly not because I’m brave or noble. If I were kidnapped, I would be as terrified as the next person, but please don’t call the Navy SEALS. I don’t want to walk out over the bodies of the unsaved, regardless of how ‘hellish’ they are. Jesus died for them, too. Sometimes we have to follow Him to Gethsemane and drink from His cup. Redemption trumps ransom and rescue – every time.

LOVE FOR THE LONG HAUL

2011-12-26T16:40:00.000-08:00

In a recent issue of Mission Frontiers, David Taylor gives an overview of the current state of the Church in Africa. While statistics on Africa in regards to infant mortality, AIDS, and unreached people groups remain daunting, Taylor points out that the Church is growing, and that there is a movement afoot to seek long-term solutions for these daunting social ills. One comment in particular jumped out at me:

“What is often missing in our response to Africa is a long-term strategy, the lack of which usually renders our short term aid more problematic than helpful . . . From the African perspective, Western NGOs appear quick to jump on a crisis, raise tons of money, take their cut and then dump the rest on the problem, moving on as quickly as they can to the next event.”

In the wake of Hurricane Mitch (1998), which took at least 17,000 Honduran lives, money poured into the country, primarily through Christian agencies. At the time, I was working under the banner of a large international Christian organization. This group claimed on its website to have received more than two million dollars for hurricane relief in Honduras and Nicaragua. After reading that one day, I emailed them, “Where is the money? We have received only $5000 for hurricane relief.” The response?: “It takes money to make money.”

Most agencies take at least 15% from donations, and 15% of $2,000,000 is already a LOT of money! But apparently it was decided stateside that much more was needed for publicity and who-knows-what. Not long after Mitch, a natural disaster occurred in Africa, and this agency began to publicize that catastrophe instead of following through on long-term solutions for Honduras and Nicaragua with the money given for hurricane relief. Disillusioned, I resigned. Apparently my experience was not an isolated one.

In the same missions article, the writer identifies a component which characterizes mission work that works, that provides what I call “love for the long haul.” This component is indigenous Christian leadership. Christian relief and development which continues through the storms and thrives in the everyday world of the poor is directed by national leaders who have an experiential understanding of the systemic evils being confronted. Missionaries like me serve God and our adoptive countries with all our heart, soul, mind and strength, but we cannot hope that our incarnational intentions ever truly imitate the man or woman who was born, raised and converted to Christ in that same culture.

Our ministry has been committed to discipling and empowering nationals since its inception, and LAMB is blessed today to be able to say that every area of our ministry has a Honduran administrator. Our executive directors, David and Evelyn Gradiz, are Honduran, and Evelyn grew up in the innercity neighborhood of Flor del Campo where our ministry was born. As a child, she carried her own chair to school each day so she wouldn’t have to sit on the cement floor. Today she has a master’s degree in Project Development from Honduras’ most prestigious university, but doesn’t dream of making money for herself. She longs to serve Jesus and her people, and she and David pour themselves out daily towards that end, as do our other leaders.

There are many Christian ministries and agencies working in Honduras. I wonder how many can say that they are truly led by nationals? While it is true that many of them have local people on their payrolls, it is also almost universally true that decisions regarding the direction, vision, and day-to-day operation of their ministries are made stateside. The justification given is that “those who raise the money need to be accountable for it.” At LAMB we believe that the money belongs to God, and that He answered our prayers for Honduran leadership by equipping and sending us these precious, capable servants who are now sitting at “the round table” of our ministry.

We are committed to “love for the long haul.” I hope to serve LAMB in Honduras for many more years, and I pray that we will continue to bear witness to life-transforming, long-term initiatives that are bringing hope to the men, women and children in our programs. I am content to let my Honduran brothers and sisters lead the way now because, as David Gradiz says, “Jesus will always be our CEO.”

Education, microbusiness, safehouses, childcare, youth programs . . . and wherever else our CEO leads us in His Name. We are “those who follow the Lamb wherever He goes,” (Rev. 14: 4), and we pray that by entrusting our God-given tasks to Honduran leadership, we have clearly demonstrated that this work was never ours. As C. S. Lewis would say, “Come higher up and further in!” I’m confident that will be our experience as we continue to seek to do ministry God’s way, not guided by moneymaking strategies, but by the Holy Spirit who seeks and saves the lost.

BRANDS PLUCKED FROM THE FIRE

2011-11-22T18:17:00.000-08:00

“And the LORD said to Satan, ‘The LORD rebuke you, Satan!. . Is this not a brand plucked from the fire?’” (Zech. 3: 2)

Plucking brands from the fire can be an extremely delicate activity! Satan does not take kindly to having his brands removed, primarily because he plans to use them to "steal, kill and destroy."

This image fits perfectly with our experience with two children, brother and sister, Marvin and Marjeli, who were born in Enemy territory and whose lives were surely forfeit had not the Lord of Mercy and Justice intervened.

The first person in our ministry to become acquainted with these siblings was Olga, who gave them food one day and then gradually had them on her doorstep every single night begging for supper. They said their mother was sick and couldn’t work. Could they have some food for her, too? Olga went with them to their house and discovered that their mother was sick indeed: tuberculosis. She was also using drugs and selling herself to support the habit. Her children were 8 and 1, the older brother carrying the baby sister from house to house to find food while the mother languished in their pitiful room. Their family was added to our food bank.

A few months later our daycare director, Suyapa, met the children. They had followed their friend Olga to our offices one day. Suyapa began to lobby to have them brought into our school and daycare. Some of the staff resisted accepting “street children,” but eventually compassion won out, and Marvin and Marjeli became part of the “God’s Littlest Lambs” community. Marvin was 9 and Marjeli was 2. Although Marvin had been promoted to third grade in the public school, he could not read, so our teachers got to work, discovered he was very bright, and began to fill in the academic holes.

Then their father came home. Add a drug dealer to the family, a thief and addict, exploiter of children, abusive and erratic. Marvin missed school, and when someone was sent to look for him, he was “working.” Because of the parents’ close relationship with violent gangs, nobody was anxious to “set them off,” and any talk about taking the children to our children’s home (which was suggested more than once) made them very angry.

Our staff continued to love and educate the two children,and our social worker began reach out to the parents. They were given a bed and continued to receive food. A two-week food ration, however, ran out very early, as it was often sold to buy drugs. Marvin and Marjeli began to show up at Olga’s house asking for supper again. So in addition to breakfast, lunch and two snacks, supper was added to their daily ration at the daycare. They were also bathed at the daycare, their clothes were washed, and they learned about the love of Jesus.

A few more months went by. Every time the ministry leadership came together, these two children were discussed. Everyone was in agreement that they needed to be at the children’s home, but nobody knew how to pluck the brands from the fire without risking serious retribution from the parents. Would they kill someone on our staff? Would they kill one of our children? We didn’t know what else to do except pray, continue to love, and wait.

The one day the mother went to the neighborhood health center and was re-diagnosed with TB. By law the entire family had to be tested. Both children tested positive. Government officials immediately took the children to be quarantined in the public hospital for respiratory illnesses. The parents were told that the children could no longer live with them, that they would have to go to Social Services. The parents requested that they be sent to our children’s home.

However, as soon as the children were transferred from the hospital to our own quarantine facility, the parents began to breathe threats again: “Give them back or we will kill somebody.”

Once again God intervened. The father, a sometimes auto mechanic, stole parts from a car he had been commissioned to repair. He spent the money on drugs. The owner of the car also had close ties with a gang. He said he would kill the father if he did not pay him for the parts. The father and mother fled the city, leaving the two smoking brands behind.

But we still did not have a signed permission to care for the children. And before long a pair of tattooed young men held vigil outside of our office for most of a morning. They asked about Marvin – they just wanted to ask him where his father was, they said. It was very important that they talk with him. Our office staff was nervous. In Honduras tattoos mean gang involvement, and gang involvement means potential violence. There was talk of calling the parents to pick up the children.

We held a prayer service in the office. We agreed that we could not hand over these two innocent children to their parents. To do so would be to return them to Enemy fire, perhaps forever. We decided to wait.

Two days later the mother showed up at the office alone. We ushered her inside, gave her breakfast, listened to her story. And then we gently suggested again that the children needed to remain with us. Could she sign a paper giving permission? She began to weep: “I’ll miss them.” We prayed with her. She placed her signature and fingerprint on the permission.

Marvin is 10 and Marjeli is 3. I asked Marvin if he knew that Jesus loves him. “Yes,” he said. “At school they told me.”

Street ministry, food bank, school, daycare, Alonzo Movement, administration, children’s home . . . I don’t know that our different ministry areas had ever worked together so closely! I don’t know that we had ever prayed so hard and long over a single situation.

We are rejoicing, but quietly. Maybe the fire is only smoldering, waiting for an opportunity to lick its flames out hungrily again for these two precious lives. Please pray for protection with us as we wait and watch. Please pray for Marvin and Marjeli as they begin to heal. And give thanks with us for two more brands plucked from the fire, tenderly but firmly, in the Name of Jesus.

WITH JESUS

2011-10-04T07:52:00.000-07:00

“And yet let us evermore write over all our miseries, big, and, for the most part very little, these transforming words: “WITH JESUS.” And then the very breath of Heaven will breathe upon our whole being and we shall be glad.” -- Lilias Trotter

As an Old Maid and an expat missionary of some twenty-one years now, I have sometimes (often?) felt alone, lonely, left out, out of step, odd one out, redhaired child, the old shoe, fly in the pie, misunderstood – not only in the eyes of others, but in my own eyes as well! Toss in the soup that I am the insecure second child, a people-pleaser without the proper tools, and you can see why it has been so important to me to know that I am WITH JESUS, and that HE IS WITH ME.

Last summer I attended a healing conference, and the most significant session for me personally was called “sense of being prayer.” For some reason I did not grow up with a secure sense of who I am. The conference speaker said that people like me often “don’t make friends; we take prisoners.” Giving and receiving love is like swinging into the abyss, an image offered by Lilias Trotter of what it means to follow Jesus. Loving is easy for some people, but not so easy for a person whose sense of being is fragmented.

Leanne Payne offers these helpful words: “If I look for me, I will never find me – only my many fragmented selves. But if I look for Him, I will eventually find that the whole of me is united in Jesus.” Hope -- WITH JESUS.

Although I stopped taking prisoners a number of years ago, I went forward for healing prayer; the journey towards wholeness is a lifetime pilgrimage, and it is not only for us, but also for our families, friends and ministries. As we move towards greater wholeness in Christ, we cease to hide ourselves behind Him and instead hide ourselves in Him, becoming one with Him as He is one with the Father (John 15). We all need healing, and we won’t cease to need healing until we see Him face-to-face. I gratefully received healing prayer.

This week I’m attending a training conference given by Servant Partners (www.servantpartners.org). For several years I have been considering affiliating with a mission agency once again. In my early years on the field I served with two different agencies. For eleven years, as LAMB has been birthed and growing, I have not had that missionary fellowship. In many ways I have missed it, but because of certain negative experiences during those early years, I have been anxious about trying again. When I have to make big decisions like this, I come face-to-face again with that fragmented sense of being, the old insecurities wanting to clamor for a voice. And yet this week I have discovered that their voices have weakened, not because I am stronger, but because of healing, obedience and faith, I am all the more certain that I am WITH JESUS.

Yesterday we had a prayer time with a precious couple from Australia named George and Dorothy Mathieson who have a healing prayer ministry. During the group prayer, the Lord spoke to me: “It’s time to make peace with the U. S. missionary community. You can’t do that as an outsider. Come into Servant Partners.” Until that moment, I had not recognized that reconciliation was necessary. I thought I’d “left all that behind me.” But I also recognized that Voice and knew that He was giving me clear direction. Once again I was the lamb who needed the hear the Voice of the Shepherd, and sure enough, He was there. For those of us who follow Jesus wherever He goes, that Voice is Life, and the only road for us is WITH JESUS.

May I encourage you to live your life seeking health and wholeness WITH JESUS? Not behind Jesus or because of Jesus. Not for Jesus or in the Name of Jesus – WITH JESUS. As we walk WITH JESUS, our gladness will bring healing to others who will also long to share in the hope and joy of walking with Him. Amen.

"La Septima"

2011-08-03T19:04:00.000-07:00

“So GOD said in effect, ‘If that’s what you want, that’s what you get. It wasn’t long before they were living in a pigpen, smeared with filth, filthy inside and out. And all this because they traded the true GOD for a fake god, and worshiped the god they made instead of the GOD who made them—the GOD we bless, the GOD who blesses us. Oh, yes!” (Romans 1: 24)

“La Septima” (Seventh Street) is in downtown Tegucigalpa. But it is much more than a street, and is seldom given to taxi drivers or vendors as a destination. The wares hawked on “La Septima” are only for regular clients, heavily armed newcomers (or cops), or the occasional fool. “La Septima” has a major rep, so much so that even its name is sometimes whispered, eyes widened to emphasize the danger.

Jasmin grew up on “La Septima.” One of the pimps, Sara, started taking her there when she was nine years old. Yep. Nine years old. Last week when Jasmin slid into a severe depression again, she ran back to the Septima. When I caught up with her, she ran into a bar, locked herself in the bathroom and screamed, “I don’t want to see anybody! I don’t want to see anybody! I want to die! This is where I was born, and this is where I’m going to die!” During the next twenty-four hours or so she beat her hands against walls and posts until they were bloody and bruised. She “went crazy” (her term) on drugs. “What did you take?” I asked. “Little green pills,” she said. Whatever they were, she hoped they would free her from what the Septima had done to her. They didn’t.

Then Sara, who could see that she wasn’t going to make any money on Jasmin, had an idea: she took Jasmin, fully loaded with little green pills, down to “La Primera” (another redlight district) where some people had threatened to kill Jasmin before she went into the safehouse a few months ago. Sara, Jasmin’s “best friend” (according to Jasmin), decided to help Jasmin die. I guess that’s what friends are for in that part of town.

Jasmin says a guy held a pistol in front of her face and was ready to shoot. But he didn’t. Despite Sara’s encouragement, he inexplicably (unless you believe in the power of prayer) hesitated, and Jasmin ran back to the Septima where a guy from the safehouse had arrived to pick her up. With some help from a few other unlikely angels, he loaded her into the safehouse pickup and drove her, kicking and screaming, to a grubby place run by “Missionaries of the Street.”

Since the night was still young, Jasmin tried to throw herself from a balcony inside the safehouse. She cut one of her fingers badly, and apparently the blood caught her attention. She began to calm down. By the next day she was weary and hurting all over, but calling to say, “I’m sorry. I’m going to try again. Will you come to see me?” Four days later she was cheerful again: “They had some heavy prayer for me. They chased away the demons.” She was talking again about her little boy, her plans for the future, her desire to live for Jesus.

While I was trying unsuccessfully to rescue Jasmin, I had a spiritual encounter on the Septima. I saw Satan and I saw GOD. I saw Satan everywhere, in the drugged eyes and battered women, the tottering young people and the dark doorways. The Septima is clearly Enemy territory. But a woman tending a little fruitstand nearby was reading her Bible, and an agitated lady suddenly ran over to me, put both arms around my waist and pleaded, “You mustn’t be here! You mustn't be here! Come! Come!” I laughed, put an arm around her shoulder and said, “I’m covered with the blood of Jesus, and now I’m going to cover you, too!” “Cover me, cover me!” she agreed, closing her eyes. So I did, and under the best cover available to God’s children, especially in Enemy camp in broad daylight, we moved on.

The “Missionaries of the Street” are mostly recovered drug addicts and prostitutes, and they look rough. But they have a heart for rescuing the lost, and they cruise the streets day and night looking for someone to save. One of their “lookouts” had spotted Jasmin that day, so they went to get her and take her home. Every day they leave the ninety-nine to rescue the one. They know that inside each one of these frightful faces there is a lost lamb yearning to go Home. Thank you, Jesus, for Your street missionaries. I see You in them. Their grateful service very likely saved Jasmin’s life, and Jasmin has said more than once that she hopes to join this missionary band one day. That would be an incredible “Thy Kingdom come”!

“Lord Jesus, more missionaries are needed on the streets of our cities. More missionaries are needed on “La Septima.” Speak words of courage to our hearts, dear Savior, and send us out to seek and save the lost. In Your precious Name. Amen.”

Look under the bed!

2011-06-30T07:42:00.000-07:00

Baby Sammy’s story reminds me of the zillions of times my mom would say (in response to our whining about losing something), “Have you looked under the bed? Go look under the bed!” Of course I find myself echoing my mother’s words with my own children, especially Lucy, whose shoes are forever playing hide-and-seek.

Reportedly Baby Sammy was found under the bed. I have wondered how exactly that might have happened. His mother is mentally ill, had the baby at home, and then presumably stored the new baby under the bed and ran off. How was he found? I have wondered.

One idea I have had is that a neighbor was watching the pregnancy. There are still a few Good Samaritan busybodies in the world! No doubt she watched the girl grow up, noticed that she was pregnant, wondered what would happen to the baby . . . Perhaps she even asked the girl, as I did in our neighborhood one day of a different mentally ill woman, “What are your plans for the baby?” And was told, as I was, “I’m not pregnant!” And this was at eight months! I was alarmed, and this neighbor probably was, too.

Maybe this neighbor noticed that the tiny house where the expectant mother lived was quiet and empty one day. No one was outside cooking beans or washing clothes. The broken door was closed. The Good Samaritan neighbor decided to take a look.

She walked into the house and noticed a bloody, disheveled bed. The woman had her baby! But where were they? Then she heard a little cry, very weak and muffled. She moved the covers around on the bed but found nothing. Then she thought, “Look under the bed!” And there was Baby Sammy, still covered in his birth mess and now with ants as well. What a sight!

After four months in the hospital and another month with us, Sammy bears no signs of this horrible experience. He is strong and active, and his cries are no longer weak and muffled. He is a happy baby boy, fussy and with a big appetite.

I like to think that the Good Samaritan who saved Sammy is still the holy busybody of her little world, keeping an eye out for the vulnerable and needy. She wasn’t afraid to look under the bed, and as a result a precious life was saved.

We never know what we’re going to find under the bed, but the next time you are searching there, remember Baby Sammy, and ask God to give you the courage to be a Good Samaritan busybody. You might just be the one to rescue someone from sex slavery, domestic abuse or abandonment.

Each life is precious to Jesus, and we are His hands, feet and eyes.
And bless you, whoever you are: the person who found Sammy under the bed. May the Lord continue to bless you with His desire to seek and save His lost lambs.

A Long Road Home

2011-06-28T21:24:00.000-07:00

I have a young friend (20) whom I will call Jorleny who is courageously seeking healing and transformation for her own life. After being sexually abused by her own father at age seven, she made friends who introduced her to drugs, alcohol and prostitution. For the past thirteen years she has alternately been committed to staying alive in the street culture or attempting to escape it. She has been in several different programs and ministries in Tegucigalpa, always with optimistic intentions, but each time she has ended up back on the street.

This time around Jorleny has been clean from drugs and alcohol for eight weeks, her longest time ever! She is in a Christian rehab center. Several of her friends, all of them sex workers, had been murdered, so she decided that it was time (again) to “live like normal people.” She voluntarily entered the center, and she has faithfully obeyed the schedule and rules. She is now physically clean, and she has also become reconciled with the Lord Jesus.

What’s next? Her emotional state is shattered. She struggles with depression, fears of all sorts, and traumatic memories. I asked her if she has nightmares. “Yes,” she said, “All day long.”

She wants to go back to school. She quit in fourth grade. She wants to work so that she can be somewhat independent. And most of all she wants to be the kind of person and mother that her little boy, age four, can be proud of. He is in our children’s home, and if there is any one reason for Jorleny’s tenacious resolve, he is it. She finds strength in the God she cannot see, but her hopes are pinned on that little boy.

Would you pray for Jorleny? She is looking at a very long road home, and some days she doesn’t want to try anymore. She is being healed one day at a time by the One who loves her best, and she longs to feel that she truly belongs to the Body of Christ. Let us surround her heart and spirit with our intercessions on her behalf so that she can be truly free and fully healed.

Public Nose-Picking and Other Questionable Forms of Cultural Adaptation

2011-05-31T20:36:00.001-07:00

When I first started driving in Honduras about eighteen years ago, I was startled (and a little disgusted) by the number of people who picked their noses while sitting in traffic. I admit that I judged them: "What kind of person digs shamelessly into his/her (yes, women too!) nose in such a public manner?!

This past Sunday I was in traffic and I glanced over to the car on my right. The driver was staring at me. You guessed it: I was scraping the crud out of my nose. Now I know what kind of person does that!

I decided to call it "cultural adaptation," obviously a euphemism in this case, but I think I might be able to justify the hypothesis with statistical analysis and photos.

The plot thickens: when I finally reached my destination, a Christian safehouse where Jasmin is living, I discovered yet another sign of cultural adaptation. I was desperate to go to the bathroom, but I suspected that the bathroom in that particular place was pathetic. Oh why did I drink that Gatorade while picking my nose? I tried to wait, but I'm almost 54 years old and couldn't. When I asked Jasmin if I could use the bathroom, I could tell from her expression that my assumption had been correct. She led me to a King Yuck bathroom with only a ragged curtain for a door. There was a guy on the floor in front of the curtain who was apparently still in the first stages of rehab. Jasmin asked him to go outside, but he just grunted.

"Oh well," I thought. "It isn't as if this is the first time I've had to submit to necessity instead of reason." Thankfully God made our brains with a certain amount of shut-down capacity, so I shut down all the parts that have to do with hygiene and modesty and just concentrated on easing my own desperation.

As a sort of bootleg missiologist, I have given lots of talks on cultural adaptation over the years. Those talks were pretty high-brow compared to this blog. Perhaps I've become overly adapted . . . or maybe I'm just one of the millions of gross individuals in the world . . . in any case, at least I haven't tried to spiritualize these "signs" -- yet.

Weep No More

2011-05-26T12:21:00.000-07:00

"And one of the elders said to me, 'Weep no more; behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that He can open the cross and its seven seals.'" (Revelation 5: 5)

I wrote a short reflection in response to this verse for our ministry devotional circular and thought I'd share the translated version with you:

When you get to the market and the prices have gone up again, Weep no more:
The Lion of Judah has conquered and will provide for your table.

When your children are confronted with the difficulties of adolescence, Weep no more:
The Lion of Judah has conquered and will lead your children.

When delinquency comes knocking at the door of your home, Weep no more:
The Lion of Judah has conquered and will protect your family.

When the politicians remain indifferent, enclosed in their wealth and power, Weep no more:
The Lion of Judah has conquered and He will never abandon the poor.

When an illness threatens someone dear to you, Weep no more:
The Lion of Judah has conquered and will heal the sick.

When you feel imprisoned by the circumstances of life, Weep no more:
The Lion of Judah has conquered and will set the captives free.

When the enemy tells you that your life isn't important to anyone, "Weep no more:
The Lion of Judah has conquered and He will be with you constantly. He loves you.

When it appears that there is no one willing to do the hardest work in God's Kingdom, Weep no more:
The Lion of Judah has conquered and we can worship alongside the saints and elders in the heavenlies:
"Worthy are You to take the scroll and to open its seals, for You were slain, and by Your blood You ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation, and You have made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they shall reign on the earth." (Rev. 5: 9-10)

WEEP NO MORE: THE LION OF JUDAH HAS CONQUERED!

So Many Dry Bones!

2011-05-11T20:43:00.000-07:00

When I got home this afternoon from my usual run to pick up Sallie and Elsa, Mary had a very serious look on her face. "Mom! I have to tell you something!" I tried not to think of the possibilities. "OK," I said. "Tell me." "Carlos [a neighbor; I've changed his name, although he doesn't deserve it] was stoning Pedro [another neighbor, a man who is mentally challenged and desperately poor] today right in front of our house! Pedro was on the ground trying to protect himself from the rocks, but Carlos just kept insulting him and stoning him!"

I will add here that Carlos often mentions in conversation that he is a churchgoer; his brother is an evangelical pastor. He lives in a nice house and makes a good living.

Pedro lives with his brother and sister, also mentally challenged, in a shack. They sleep on the floor with the dogs. Pedro has an agreement with a nice lady up the road: he takes wood for her cooking fire each day, and she gives him something to eat in return. This lady, by the way, does not confess to be a Christian.

The story gets worse: Carlos persecutes Pedro because he says that Pedro is stealing wood. First of all, Carlos does not own the property where Pedro finds the wood. Secondly, I have strongly suspected for some time that Carlos himself is stealing wood from properties near ours. Thirdly, Pedro is the most humble, passive man you could imagine. He wouldn't hurt a fly. Beating him reminds me of another beating, in the Bible, of "the lamb being led to the slaughter."

Talk about dry bones! I want to give Carlos a few prophetic words ("a piece of my mind," as my mother would say). I'm sickened by his behavior and can hardly imagine him rising up to become a member of God's true army. But he wouldn't be interested in the opinions of a woman, especially a gringa. Also, I can tell that Mary wants me to do something. Surely I'm not going to allow this terrible injustice to continue! Come on, Mom!

So I have done something: I textmessaged Carlos to say that I had given permission to Pedro to gather dead wood from my property -- which I did when Pedro came around tonight to ask for food. I admit that it gave me some pleasure to do this small thing, and that part of the pleasure is in knowing that Carlos will be displeased. Still, maybe Pedro will be able to collect wood peacefully, deliver it peacefully, and eat peacefully.

I'm praying, too: "Lord, you love Carlos and Pedro, and you want them to love each other. Please breathe on those dry bones and make them live. Put Your heart of compassion in Carlos. Amen."

And those are just today's dry bones . . . What about little Sammy, left under a bed to die? And Jasmin, battling for her life in a rehab center? And Digna, who has cut my hair for 15 years, but had to run from Flor because the gangs wanted her to pay a 'war tax'?

And these are just the dry bones in my neighborhood! What about the persecution going on in Muslim countries? And human trafficking? And the drug cartels?

So many dry bones . . . I guess I'd better not retire just yet after all . . . Lord, breathe Your love and mercy and justice through Your Church, through each one of us, Your children . . .Give us Your heart . . . Amen.

Can these bones live?

2011-05-05T07:11:00.000-07:00

A few days ago I was skyping with a missionary friend I hadn’t seen in several years. He said, “I was looking at your website, and I couldn’t help thinking that most missionaries don’t manage to survive on the mission field for twenty years, but you’ve done more than survive; you seem to have flourished. Maybe sometime you could share how you did that.”

For some reason, those words have been playing over and over in my head, perhaps because of the word ‘flourished.’ “Am I flourishing? Or am I just surviving?” I asked myself. I couldn’t get a straight answer out of myself, so I asked the Lord. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear His answer, so of course I didn’t hear anything (it’s kind of hard to hear when your hands are over your ears!). I was afraid He’d say, “Yep. That website is cheerful and that’s a great photo of you looking so joyful, but hey, let’s face it – you’re pretty washed out.” I thought of these twenty very full years on the field, looked at the fact that I’m over fifty and feel tired much of the time, allowed the Enemy to remind me (again) of all the health hazards in my DNA, and my spirit started flagging – down down down: Maybe I’d better face reality and get out of the way and let younger, stronger people carry on.

Yet I hadn’t really heard from the Lord yet. So I asked Him tonight, this time with my ears unstopped. He said, “Dry bones.”

“Oh, no! It’s worse than I thought! Dry bones?! Boo-hoo! I'm not even surviving!". Not being one to let go of a bullet until I’ve swallowed it whole, I decided to take a closer look at Ezekiel 37. God would probably amplify that thought for me, show me where I’ve gone wrong, and then maybe give me another year or two of usefulness, however menial and insignificant (yes, I was getting pretty pathetic). I turned very slowly to the famous dry bones passage, and this is what I read:

“The hand of the Lord was upon me, and he brought me out in the Spirit of the Lord and set me down in the middle of the valley; it was full of bones. And he led me around among them, and behold, there were very many on the surface of the valley and behold, they were very dry. And he said to me, “Son of man, can these bones live?” And I answered, “O Lord God, you know.” Then he said to me, “Prophesy over these bones, and say to them, O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. Thus says the Lord God to these bones: Behold, I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. And I will lay sinews upon you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live, and you shall know that I am the Lord.”

The first word that caught my eye was ‘valley.’ My house is in a valley, and when the rains come, water rushes down the hill to our property. The little road next to our home turns into a small creek. Water . . . Spirit. I might be in a valley, but valleys hold water. Even if the valley is filled with dry bones, it’s still a valley, and it’s fertile and green and filled with life-giving water. I wondered if those dry bones in Ezekiel were lying around on beautiful lush grass with the sound of a waterfall nearby. I started feeling a little more hopeful.

And then the words, “Can these bones live?” shouted at me. I needed to know, too. A person wouldn’t even have bothered to ask that question: of course bones can’t live! What a ridiculous thought! A dry bone coming back to life? But God asked, and when God asks something which seems impossible, it somehow nurtures hope in our souls and spirits. Besides, now I was asking, too. “Lord, is it over? Or . . . could they . . . might they . . .will they live again?”

And of course they did! God put flesh and skin on them, and then He breathed into them, and they rose to their feet and became “an exceedingly great army.” That’s when I realized that the dry bones in the valley weren’t necessarily mine. Even though a valley is fertile and wet, it can also symbolize a place of separation from God. The mountain is the place where prophets meet with the Lord; “down in the valley” is the symbolic place of sin and sadness.

So this is what I heard the Lord saying to me, “Suzy, for twenty years you have been living and ministering in a valley, in a place where there is poverty, despair and injustice, a place where there are many dry bones. Like David in Psalm 22, you have been ‘poured out like water,’ and your strength is ‘dried up like a potsherd.’ You have wanted to see those dry bones live. You have wanted to see them with real flesh, and especially with the breath of God within them. You have tried to help My people get on their feet and join My army. In the process, you have become so spent that maybe sometimes you feel like one of them – but you are NOT a dry bone. My living water is within you. You are My prophet in the midst of the bones, My voice speaking hope and life to them. Stop listening to the voice that wants you to lie down and join the dead. Yes, you are older and you will never have the physical strength you once had, but My breath is strong within you.”

That isn’t a direct quote, by the way. I don’t necessarily hear from the Lord in that way, but I know that’s the message He has for me: “Live! Love! Let my Spirit breathe freely through your life! And keep calling to the dry bones! Tell them to rise up in the Name of Jesus!”

Isn’t that a beautiful message? I’m sharing it because I know I’m not the only one who sometimes “grows weary in welldoing,” and begins to doubt the Lord and start listening to the discouraging voice of the Enemy. We are called to go to the valley, and sometimes dwell there so that the dry bones can live – but the Lord will not allow us to join the hopelessness of the spiritually dead. He sends rivers of Living Water and His own breath of the Holy Spirit to keep His life flowing into and through our lives.

“Can these bones live?” Hallelujah – not just live – They can flourish!

I Want to Be Baptized

2011-04-27T07:43:00.000-07:00

Easter Sunday is my favorite day of the year, primarily because it is the day we do baptisms at the children's home. Is there anything more exciting than a baptism? -- and on Easter Sunday?! I could hardly sleep Saturday night thinking about how beautiful the next day was going to be, and I was not disappointed.

Seven children had gone through the "I Want to Be Baptized" preparation with me: Raul, Tony, Kevin, Jonibel, Norma, Kennet and Emanuel. We had a little retreat together on the Tuesday during Holy Week, which was followed by a Maundy Thursday footwashing service with all of the children, and then the Via Crucis (Stations of the Cross) on Friday. On Sunday we decorated the church with flowers (thanks, Amanda, Lety and Jorge!), took off the black shroud and replaced it with resurrection white, and put on some Jesus praise music. Let the celebration begin!

For more photos of our morning together, please see Amanda's blog (www.hondurasamanda.blogspot.com). It was glorious from start to finish. One of the highlights, of course, was the dress I was wearing. ha. I had gotten myself a new pair of tennies for Easter, but at the last minute decided to dress up. I got lots of thumbs up, so I guess I'll have to do that more often!

Holy Week in Honduras is for many people just a vacation/party week (go to the beach; drink; eat a lot; rest), but I want our children to look forward to Holy Week because of the special services. I think everybody had an encounter with Jesus this year. We remembered His example of service as we washed one another's feet on Thursday, and we walked to Calvary with Him on Friday in yet another attempt to understand His sacrifice. His Name was held high throughout the week, and the joyful spirit in church on Sunday was palpable. Cristo ha resucitado! Aleluya!

So, Happy Easter! And may His resurrection life characterize each and every day of our lives!

Spokesperson for God

2011-04-14T14:48:00.000-07:00

It is generally considered quite the plum of a job to become Press Secretary or Secretary of State for the great USA.

But what if you were God’s spokesperson??

I am referring, of course, to prophets. Most people think of prophecy as “telling the future,” but historically it has meant nothing of the sort, at least in regards to Christianity. Prophecy is simply expressing what is in God’s heart, either with words or with action. A prophetic ministry is one which seeks to reveal God’s Truth and purposes to individuals, churches, or even societies. For example, I believe that our ministry, LAMB, is a prophetic ministry because we express the reality of God’s Kingdom incarnationally, in word and in deed.

This morning I was with a woman who has strong prophetic gifts. Her name is Sister Lupita, and she went to our safehouse to minister to the girls and staff. Last week she had come to Casa Lamb to meet Jeremy and his two friends who were visiting, and she gave “a prophetic word” over each one of us. Wow. It was as if she were looking into our souls! She had never met any of us. She had not been “briefed” ahead of time. When Amanda asked if she would do a skype conversation with her son, Sister Lupita said, “That isn’t necessary. God can give a word for him without seeing him.” And she proceeded to talk about Amanda’s son as if she had known him from childhood! Then as Amanda sat there astounded, Lupita just smiled calmly and said, “See, God knows everybody and everything.”

At the safehouse, there is a girl who just turned twelve. She has only been with us for a few weeks, and every time someone has started a prayer time, she has begun to laugh and laugh uncontrollably. One day she said, “I don’t want to laugh, but the devil is making me.” And laughed some more. Today we had some praise and worship time, and then Sister Lupita walked directly to this girl, laid hands on her and began to speak into her ear. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but there was no laughing. The girl began to weep – and weep and weep and weep. And she began to talk to Jesus, out loud, asking forgiveness, thanking Him for loving her, and I don’t know what else because I was playing the guitar and crying, too, and that was about all the multitasking I could do under these circumstances!

After Sister Lupita prayed over the girls and the staff, she came over and prophesied over me, too. I tried to catch every word; one does not want to miss anything God is saying! As with the other prophecies, the words were ones of encouragement, love, and hope. They were words of assurance that the Lord was with me, and that He would bring to fulfillment all that was in my heart from Him to do. So beautiful. I’ve been doing other things since then, but my inner thoughts have stayed right there in that moment, soaking in the Truth, holding onto His loving words.

Sister Lupita reminded us, and I want to remind you, that God sees us, knows us, loves us. There is nothing that escapes His attention, and there is nothing that He cannot do. We are never outside the reach of His love. He makes all things new. He turns our mourning into dancing, and He also turns our careless laughter into tears of cleansing and renewal. In Jesus we are resurrected into holiness and joy. May we all be prophetic ministers wherever we are, revealing the Truth of Jesus Christ with our words and our lives so that His hope prevails.

Another "God Dream"

2011-04-10T19:46:00.000-07:00

This morning (Sat.) at 6:30am I was leading praise and worship for a devotional in a place called CEMELUCAS, which is a Christian medical clinic run by Dr. Reyna Duron, a Honduran neurologist. Dr. Ken Holden introduced me to Dr. Reyna a few years ago, and little by little (because we are both very busy in our own spheres), we have become friends. Like the Apostle Paul, Dr. Reyna has worldly credentials of the highest order, and she could be working in a very nice hospital in the USA, making lots of dollars and living the good life. She has a passion, though, which comes straight from the heart of Jesus: making quality medical care available to the poor of Honduras. She sees some of “God’s Littlest Lambs” on a regular basis, free of charge. She says we are “on scholarship.” (smile) As my engineer friend, Elsa, said to me once when I told her that I wished we could pay for all the help she gave us: “You could never afford me anyway.” (another smile) It’s true. We can’t afford the services of Dr. Reyna or Eng. Elsa, but they have the heart of Jesus and help us anyway.

Dr. Reyna has a “God dream”: she wants to build a Christian hospital for the Honduran poor. She has her eyes on a piece of property within stone-throwing distance of the big, chaotic hospital where doctors and nurses are trained (on poor people). Dr. Reyna is a single woman, but she is birthing a huge baby: building a hospital is a tremendous challenge! Now that the baby has been conceived, though, it is beginning to develop and take on a life of its own, so there is no turning back. When Reyna sent me an email describing her vision and inviting me to participate in the special devotionals this month at her clinic to pray, I sensed the anointing of the Holy Spirit upon this dream. During my twenty years here, I have seen plenty of physical suffering. I have walked the halls and spent time in the wards of the public hospital, and I have gone to the funerals of men, women and children whose lives were shortened because of poor medical care. Reyna and I have assisted with countless medical brigades, placing medicines and vitamins in the hands of people who have literally no money to buy them, and even more importantly, sharing with them God’s love. Being treated with dignity and respect is perhaps the most important characteristic of Christian medical care. “The least of these” are exactly that in the eyes of many medical professionals, as evidenced by the comment of the specialist attending our precious Elias H last month: “Oh great! Another Social Services dummy!” Five minutes later he had changed all of Elias’ epilepsy medications, and we had to go to Dr. Reyna to get it straightened out.

Will you join me in praying for Dr. Reyna’s dream? In my reading on the history of Christian mission, I have encountered many similar projects. Apparently God likes building hospitals for poor people! Healing is one of His favorite activities, and with Reyna in charge, patients will be healed in body, mind, soul and spirit, in Jesus’ Name. Beautiful. Selah.

Dreaming With the Hernandez Family

2011-04-05T07:02:00.000-07:00

Some of you might remember that day (September 29, 2004) when the five Hernandez children (Reina, Jorge, Julio, Wendy, Jimmy) were brought to us from their village by Social Services. Their first housemothers were Katie, Annabel, and Jenny. They were ours before we started the children’s home. They are still ours, seven years later, except that now we have a few more of the Hernandez clan: Sallie, Tatiana, and Genesis. And years earlier I had already brought home their cousins Mari and Noe. Mari, Noe and Wendy have the same mother, Rita, and the rest of the children belong to Mari’s mother’s sister, Margarita. Margarita and Rita have 15 siblings themselves! Are you confused yet? When we have visiting day, the Hernandez family takes up about 20% of the space, and it is obvious that they love being together.

The original five children had been left in the care of family members while Margarita came to Tegucigalpa to work to support them. She is a sweet, hardworking mom and loves her children. She didn’t know they were being abused, and is one parent who is thankful for the support we have given her family. She spends as much time with the children as she possibly can.

Because of health issues, Jorge (now 17) went to live with his mom a couple of years ago. He needed to be near the hospital, and his mom was eager to help. This year Reina turned 18, and she elected to live with her mom as well. It’s possible that Julio will join them this year. He’s 14 and in middle school, which is also in Tegucigalpa, and since his mother is enthusiastic about getting her children back together, we are hoping that the children’s court will give permission for him to join Reina and Jorge. LAMB will continue to help with education expenses.

Reina is spending a couple of days with my family. I asked her to help us get our house resettled after the Big Roof Project. Naturally I asked her how everything is going. She is in high school (a weekend distance program), and she was taking care of a baby, but apparently that job dried up. She also had a boyfriend, but has decided to cut that off (yeah!). She began to talk about the future in hopeful, cheerful language:

“My mom is going to help me get a job as a waitress while I finish school. Our dream is for Jorge to work and me, too, and my mom, too, and then we’re going to buy a house.”

Even with three salaries, given the pay scales in Honduras, buying any kind of house at all is a truly lofty dream. I wasn’t really thinking about that part, though. I was considering how improbable it was a few years ago that Jorge and Reina would be so far along in their studies, that they would be living harmoniously with their mom, making plans together as a family. Until her children were taken in by “God’s Littlest Lambs,” Margarita moved from job to job, and her children were shuffled among family members. However, Margarita has had the same job now for several years, and is dreaming big dreams with her kids.

If you were to ask any of the older Hernandez family members what has made the difference for them, I feel certain they would say, “our faith in Jesus.” The children have become baptized, committed Christians, and last year Margarita joined them in God’s Family. The love of Jesus Christ has brought peace and hope to the Hernandez Family. They are leaving the past behind, and they are dreaming of a future in which they are together under one roof.

God’s redemptive work is always beautiful, especially when it is as simple as bringing a family together again after enduring desperate poverty, abuse and separation. When I heard Reina’s dream, I decided to make it my dream for the Hernandez Family, too: “Lord, You can do anything, and because of that, we can dream big dreams. I pray that You would provide a home for the Hernandez Family, a home with a big dining room table so that they can break bread together in Your Name, laughing and enjoying just being together. Thank you for redeeming the years of pain and separation. In Jesus’ Name. Amen.”

Fleeing Kindness

2011-03-30T09:57:00.000-07:00

“Or do you presume on the riches of His kindness and forbearance and patience, not knowing that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance?” (Romans 2: 4)

“I call heaven and earth to witness against you today, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse. Therefore choose life, that you and your offspring may live, loving the Lord your God, obeying his voice and holding fast to him, for he is your life and length of days.” (Deut. 30: 19-20)

Talk about Scripture taking on flesh and blood! Yesterday Maribel exploded again, and then she packed up her things and Fernando and clearly chose death, fleeing the kindness she could not embrace. Our comfort is in knowing that she is God’s child now. We witnessed and participated in the “prayer of salvation,” and what a beautiful moment it was! However, sanctification is a process, not by any means instantaneous, and the 25 years of rejection, betrayal, abuse and exploitation will have to be healed one decision at a time. Yesterday Maribel could not trust God or us and walked away from kindness, unconditional love, regular meals, a comfortable bed, good medical care, friendship, spiritual encouragement . . . and walked towards poverty, danger (there is a contract on her life), a possible relapse for Fernando into life-threatening illnesses (he’s had pneumonia twice already), brutal relationships, and everything else that living on the street can mean. Praise God for the “Hound of Heaven”! I am so sad today, but trusting in Jesus, the God of our Salvation. He loves Maribel and Fernando even more than we do, and I pray that she will meet Him at every turn.

In typical Maribel fashion, she screamed insults at us, threatened to have us all murdered (and our children, too), bit Mary, accused us of wanting to steal Fernando from her, etc. etc. etc. – and then asked for a ride to the bus station. I had to smile when she asked me for jalon (a ride). I gave her a lift to the bus stop, and then after she’d found some hole to live in, she came back to Casa Lamb and asked Amanda to give her another ride with all her stuff. When Amanda dropped her at the bus stop, she asked if she could pray for Fernando. Maribel gave permission, and Amanda whipped out her water bottle and baptized Fernando! Now that was a Holy Spirit moment for sure!

Most of us can’t imagine fleeing kindness. We welcome Love with open hearts. But most of us have not had to endure the suffering that Maribel has had to endure, and it has been continuous and profound. She feels more at home with hunger and fear.

Today by faith I am hoping in Christ for Maribel and Fernando. Please join me. They are part of our Kingdom family now and desperately need our prayers.

Church?

2011-03-24T14:41:00.000-07:00

The St. Peter’s group asked me after Maribel accepted Christ with us last week, “How will you do follow-up with her?” One way, obviously, is to take her to church. Since we only hold services at the children’s home on Sunday mornings, I have been taking her elsewhere: Saturday night we went to a medium-sized church not far from Casa Lamb, and last night we went to a big church across town. Both are evangelical, and one is also Pentecostal. In a word, I would describe our experiences at both as “disappointing.”

Lots of people have taken a shot at explaining what Church should be all about. The Bible says it should be about LOVE. I say that because the Scriptures say that God is love, and since the Church is the Body of Christ, it seems reasonable to me to conclude that the Church as Love should be our highest aim.

So I wanted somebody to love Maribel. I wanted somebody to notice that we were visiting, to discern that she is a person in need of Love, and then offer her some. At the first church, I took Fernando (Maribel’s baby) to the nursery so that Maribel could concentrate on listening. In the nursery, I was asked about the baby, so I told a little of Fernando’s story. Both nursery workers were flabbergasted: “I guess we live in a bubble,” one said. “I don’t even know anybody like that.” Ugh. The comment was not followed by something like, “But I would love to meet her and pray for her.” Double ugh.

At the second church, an usher came over and told Maribel she had to take Fernando to the nursery. Maribel was offended, not understanding that it was a kind of “church rule.” She is very sensitive about anything that looks like rejection. She called the usher an imbecile and walked out with Fernando. Oops. Another lady chased after us as we returned early to our car. She wanted to explain about the Rule. She addressed the entire conversation to me, referring to Maribel as “that girl,” and then “with the bad nature.” Oh. Really? That’s why I brought her here, I said, to be ministered to. “Oh,” said the woman, smiling, as if to congratulate me. This “oh” was not followed by, “Well, why don’t we have a time of prayer right now? Can I meet your friend?” She seemed happy when I said we needed to go (Maribel was about to blow another gasket).

In short, I am still looking for Church for Maribel. A Church that is LOVE. Any recommendations?

"Dia del Mapi"

2011-03-19T20:29:00.000-07:00

Dude Singing to His Grandma Mapi

On Thursday, Lety came home from school with an invitation for me to Father’s Day (celebrated in March here). I made the logical comment: “I’m not your father.” She said, “They are inviting single mothers because you are both mother and father,” (mami + papi = mapi). What a nice idea! AND that means I’ll be invited to Mother’s Day, too! Double celebration for double duty!

Anyway, Lety and I went to “Dia del Mapi” today at her school, and it was the most moving school program I’ve attended in all my years of attending school programs. Lety is attending a small K-12 Christian school, and we are newcomers. I literally did not know a soul there except the principal and his wife who handled registration. The program started with praise and worship and a prayer. Then the children did their presentations.

Preparatory went first, and there was a chunky, curly adorable boy in the middle who kept blowing kisses to his daddy, who cheerfully blew them back. So cute. And then a high school girl got up and sang a song to her dad. She was nervous, so she called her little sister over and they kept their arms around one another the entire song. At the end, the girl who sang went to her dad in the audience and held him tight. They were both crying. I was, too. I later found out that the dad had recently suffered a stroke. He got up and shared a testimony about how he needed a medical test afterwards. His younger daughter heard him talking about it with the mother. She made a can and said she would ask people for donations. He started crying. The little girl ran up and grabbed him, weeping. A son joined the love clump. I wasn't the only one sniffling in the crowd by now.

And then a high school boy sang a very sentimental song about fathers, and when he went into the audience to hug his dad, it wasn’t a dad: it was his grandmother! I found out later that she is raising five grandsons by herself. When that big dude leaned over to love on his little grandmom, I really did lose it. Who would have thought that “Dia del Mapi” would be worse than fifteen Little House On the Prairie episodes?! I mean, Lety even cried and hugged me, and she’s fifteen and too cool for school. She wouldn’t even sit with me when we got there, but after all this stuff started happening, she came over for a hug herself!

I think that “Dia del Mapi” should turn into a worldwide movement. It’s clearly anointed by the Holy Spirit. I can hardly wait until next year!

It Doesn't Get Any Better Than This!

2011-03-15T21:36:00.000-07:00

Tonight Maribel, Lucy’s birthmom, accepted Christ with us in the living room of Casa Lamb. She cried a lot, told us that the Lord had been calling her, but that she had been too scared to let Him in. “But I’m not going back this time,” she said, and prayed the sinner’s prayer.

As I drove Maribel home, she said softly, “I’m so happy.” FINALLY.

So happy after being given away as a baby.
So happy after being sexually abused by her father.
So happy after running away with a man twenty years older when she was 12 years old.
So happy after being sold in exchange for drugs.
So happy after having four children before she’d turned 22.
So happy after running with a gang of thieves.
So happy after having all four children taken away from her by Social Services.
So happy after being sent to jail for robbery.

In fact, I asked Maribel a couple of weeks ago, “Can you remember a time when you were happy?” She thought for a moment and said, “The happiest time of my life was when I was I prison.” !!!

Tonight Maribel came home to Jesus. She’s so happy. And, really: It doesn’t get any better than that!

“How Do You Decide Who To Help?”

2011-03-10T20:13:00.000-08:00

This question has been asked many times, and it is difficult to answer. Sometimes there is clear direction from the Holy Spirit, an urgent sense that a response is what God wants. Other times it isn’t so clear. Tonight I’m troubled because I received three “distress calls” today on my cell phone, with nothing resolved for any of the callers. Two calls were about children-at-risk, all boys between the ages of 5 and 8. The last call was from a woman who said she met me years ago, and who needs to “be heard by someone who loves Jesus". When she said that, I felt good that she thought of me! That’s really all I ever want to be! But returning to the original question, I’m asking the Lord to make His will clear in regards to these boys. At the children’s home we’re building a boys’ bungalow because we need to (1) move our boys further away from the girls, and (2) create more space for the girls, who are all in one cabin. Right now we have space for new children only in the nursery. So should that be my answer? That “no room in the inn” response has always been hard for me. And now the situation is different because we have Honduran leadership, and they decide which children will come into the home. I can certainly participate in the discussion, but I no longer singlehandedly take children to the children’s home. It is no longer my prerogative to say to someone on the phone, “Absolutely! I’ll pick up the child tomorrow!”
I’m posting the photo of Aaron Josue because when I accepted him from Social Services, I did so despite some loving pressure not to. He was pathetic. Everyone was in agreement that he was going to die. Should you say ‘no’ because the person “is going to die anyway”? Mother Teresa was attracted to people who fit the opposite profile; she wanted to help them die with dignity. With my U. S. upbringing, I heard those words (“When he dies . . .”) as a sort of challenge: “You’ll see!” I thought. "God is greater than your prognostication!” When all is said and done, though, life and death are in God’s hands, and my desire to prove Social Services wrong just gets mixed up in His mysterious ways.
So yes, I’m glad I took AJ home that day. I love that little guy, and I’m so thankful for his new wheelchair (Thanks, Dr. Jack!). Was it God’s will? I think so, but Paul says we can only “see through a glass darkly” right now, so maybe there is no way to be absolutely certain. Does the Lord want me to get mixed up with those three little boys? My heart longs to respond somehow, but a look at my day tomorrow makes it clear that if I do respond, it won’t be immediately. I’ve passed on the information to our leadership team for prayer and discussion. That and prayer will have to do for now.
If this all sounds muddled, well, it is. It’s a holy muddle. I believe that Jesus wants all of us to get involved in holy muddles because that’s where His light shines brightest. May He help us know when and where and how to become His hands and feet.

Is It Possible to Pray Too Hard?

2011-03-07T11:44:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I was in a taxi headed for Hospital Escuela to visit a mother and baby. The taxi driver was extremely upbeat and friendly. He spoke English, so he was delighted to practice. He asked me where I was from, what I was doing in Honduras, etc. etc. etc. Just as we were nearing the hospital, he asked, “Are you married?”
“No,” I said. “I’ve never been married.”
“What!?!?!?!?!?!?” he cried. “ You are so pretty! Why aren’t you married?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“But you have a boyfriend?”
“No,” I said.
“What?!?!?!?!?!?!?” he cried. “No boyfriend?!?!?!? Give me your phone number!”
I laughed. By now we were at the hospital, and cars were honking at us to get moving.
“Give me your phone number!”
“Are you a Christian?” I asked.
“No, but hurry! Give me your phone number!”
“God bless you!” I said as I exited the taxi.
As I was walking through the hospital gate, I thought, “I think somebody is praying too hard about my loneliness.” (Big smile.) Is that possible?: To pray so hard that an excitable, pagan taxi driver appears on the scene – or maybe it was just the Enemy’s idea of a funny joke. It was funny, and of course I’m especially thrilled that he noticed how pretty I am! So thanks for those earnest prayers; I needed a funny experience like that! 

March On, My Soul, With Might (Judges 5: 21b)

2011-03-02T08:29:00.000-08:00

Rosalind Banks sent me this half verse from Judges this morning (Thanks, Rosalind!). It’s from the ‘Song of Deborah and Barak” after “God subdued Jabin the king of Canaan before the people of Israel.”
My earlier reflections this morning had been on Proverbs 9: 10: “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom,” which I had read on the wall at Lety’s school when I passed by to leave her something. I left there thinking that people these days don’t like to associate ‘fear’ with God, and yet the fear mentioned here is a healthy fear: it is a constant submission to the sovereignty of God. When we are submitted fully to His sovereignty, we have put on the mind of Christ (Phil. 2: 5), and then we are empowered by His Holy Spirit to walk in Truth, the purest expression of wisdom.
Walking (marching!) in Truth does strengthen our souls, which is forever threatening to grow weary and faint (Heb. 12: 3) . Our bones and muscles might ache, but we can keep marching as long as our soul and spirit remain strong, marching on in the might of our God.
And this is the testimony of the faithful: (1) that we have persevered (Rev: 3:8), (2) that we have feared God, allowing Him sovereignty in our lives (Prov. 9:10), causing us to march forward in obedience and faith (Judges 5: 21), to the end that His Name is lifted high for all to see.
We so long for healing, freedom, deliverance, holiness, joy, peace, love, wholeness. May we experience the fullness of Christ – and pass it on – as we allow God to subdue the enemies of our souls so that we can march on in His strength alone.

Blessed Are Those Who Mourn

2011-02-25T21:50:00.000-08:00

It seems like an oxymoron to say that it is blessed to mourn! I’m especially feeling that way tonight after visiting two homes not too far from our ministry offices today. I asked Maribel (pretty girl in photo), Lucy’s mom, to take me to see her house and visit her grandmother, Francisca, who is sick. On the way, Maribel asked me if I wanted to meet her aunt. Sure, why not? So we stopped at a very decent-looking house (for Flor), and there was a pathetic woman sitting on the porch. I thought she was looking through the bars, but I was wrong. She can’t see. I stepped onto the porch to say hello how are you, and noticed that she had something wrapped in medical tape hanging off her left shoulder just above the breast. She smelled like betadine. This aunt, Suyapa, began to tell me about her medical problems: high blood pressure, diabetes, and kidney malfunction. She is on dialysis twice/week – except that she didn’t make it yesterday because her ride didn’t come. She explained to me how they hook up the tube hanging out of her shoulder to a machine, and that she is in the hospital from very early in the morning until seven or eight at night. She can’t walk by herself. She said, “I want to get well. I don’t want to die.” I prayed for her, and we left.

Next stop: Dona Francisca and Maribel’s house. We parked next to a narrow opening on the road, and began to walk down a labyrinth of cement steps. I thought, “The worst of this is that we are going to have to come back up!” The house was indeed at the bottom. It’s a shack by anybody’s standards, and Francisca was lying in bed. In contrast to her daughter Suyapa’s remark that she did not want to die, Francisca almost immediately, in a very flat tone, said, “I have been thinking that I’ll soon cross over to the other side. I’m glad you got here in time to visit me.” I visited with her for awhile, brainstormed about how to make her house more livable, prayed, and we left.

These visits happened after I’d spent almost three hours listening to Maribel tell her story. I took seven pages of notes. I’m not going to tell you what she said because I want all of you to buy our book! However, I did not notice that Maribel felt blessed to be mourning so much loss and pain. I searched for adequate words to encourage her, someone who has suffered continuously for almost all of her twenty-five years.

We have all known the blessing which can come after the mourning. Somehow we have to learn how to reap the blessing while the mourning is still going on. HOPE IN GOD is how we do that. Please join me in praying for Suyapa, Francisca and Maribel, that the Lord would restore their hope so that He can turn their mourning into dancing.

Saying YES to the World

2011-02-21T00:11:00.000-08:00

All of the readings today in the Episcopal lectionary dealt with the theme of holiness. It is a concept and a reality which many Christians misunderstand. When God says to Moses in Leviticus, "Tell the people to be holy because I, Jehova God, am holy," He is not asking for an impossibility. He is also not expecting that every Israelite will become an ordained priest. All believers are called to be holy, and the lesson from Jesus in Matthew 5 amplifies for us some of the behaviors which characterize holiness. We must forgive our enemies, go the extra mile, give to the poor, and a number of other equally difficult things.

I shared with the children today about the little girl in the Old Testament who was a slave in the house of rich Naaman, a powerful man. Sadly, he had leprosy. However, a more natural response from this little girl might have been, "So what! I hate him! He keeps me as a slave! I hope he dies!" Instead she wants to help him: "I know somebody who can heal him . . ." Now that's holiness!

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, developing a Karl Barth theme he liked, wrote a sermon on "saying YES to the world," in which he basically affirmed our involvement in human relationships and other "earthy" activities. God wants us to be fully involved in this world, he said, and yet living according to Kingdom principles. That, too, is holiness.

We must drink deeply of the holiness of Jesus if we decide to make an earnest attempt at inviting His Kingdom to come into lives. We can only be holy as He is holy if we allow His Spirit to permeate and penetrate our being, and then we can truly share the Living Water with others.

I want to say YES to the world, but in HOLINESS, the pure, transparent, cleansing holiness of Jesus.

Contagious Generosity

2011-02-19T14:42:00.000-08:00

It's "group season" at LAMB!   We have people coming down almost non-stop through July.   What a blessing it is to be with old friends, and to make new ones, working side-by-side in the Name of Jesus!

Yesterday I was translating for Dr. Jim Warmbrod as Dr. Laurie Harrell's medical brigade was serving the people of Colonia Emanuel.   We were crowded into a small cement block house which had been divided into two "rooms" by a curtain of sheets pinned together.   The front part was the waiting room, and the back part was the consulting room (four doctors, their translators and patients!).    It was HOT.   I got a phone call from my friend, Engineer Elsa.   She had been to my house to see how the roof repairs were coming along:   "Suzy, I know you don't want to hear this, but you really need to change the whole roof."   Ugh.   My heart sank.   We were going to replace all the ceiling tiles, the wood supporting them, and treat the large beams with anti-termite stuff.   We weren't going to change the beams or the roof tiles.   But the beams are also rotten, and the roof is asbestos.    I told her to let me think about it.

I didn't really need to think about it.   It was a no-brainer:   replacing the ceiling under a rotten roof??   I just needed to accept it.   I needed to ask Jesus about how we were going to pay for it.   I felt sad and anxious.

The next morning, three friends emailed to say they wanted to help with our roof!   THREE.   A friend on the Atlanta team which had just left had already said he wanted to help, too.   FOUR.    Once again the Lord was showing me: You are not alone.   You have family.   I know what you need.

Today I felt as if I had caught "the love bug."   I sat down on the bleachers up in Flor to watch Don Wilbur's soccer clinic, and three scruffy young boys sat down near me. I was munching on something.   I said, "Are you hungry?"   They all nodded.   I gave them money for lunch.   While I was treating them to lunch, Amanda was taking off her tennis shoes (see photo above) because there was a girl playing soccer on the field barefoot!   Then we went to Lydia's to say goodbye to Diana Collins' group from Vermont.   A woman was digging in the garbage across the street.   I went over to her, greeted her with a smile and gave her some money, too.

Although I can't be generous in as big a way as some people, I enjoy giving, and I know you do, too.   It is truly more blessed to GIVE, although when you are in need, it is also a huge blessing to RECEIVE.

Generosity is contagious.   Let's all catch "the love bug"!

Making Crooked Roads Straight

2011-02-15T20:15:00.000-08:00

At church two Sundays ago, we were asked, “With which Bible character do you most identify?” I thought immediately of John the Baptist. I love the idea of making crooked roads straight; it’s one of my favorite images of what God’s justice and mercy are all about. Another characteristic of John the Baptist which I admire is that he not only understood the focus of his mission, but was very clear about who he was not, i.e. he was not Jesus. There are days when I feel as if I need to step up to the plate more, have more faith, do some miracles, walk on water. J And then I remind myself that I’m not Jesus -- not in order to justify passivity, because I know that I am not passive. I remind myself of that because Jesus’ followers were (and are) empowered to do great things in the Name of Jesus, but we are not encouraged from Scripture to take God’s place.

How all of this works out in daily ministry can be a little complex. Today Social Services called about a 13-yr-old girl with a 1-yr-old baby. The girl was abused by her grandfather. Mother and baby need a home. We have had two similar cases at our children’s home, and I feel close to both teenaged mothers and their little girls, so my heart immediately went out to this little girl and her baby. Could we do something to straighten out the crooked road created by incest?

Yes, we can do something. We can offer them a safe haven and the love of Jesus. However, I have learned that the healing process is different for each person, and that as much as we would like to, we cannot control how long it takes. We cannot “define outcomes.” Only the Lord Jesus can transform lives. We can do all that we can, by His grace, to “make straight the way,” but at the same time we are trusting in God for salvation and liberation. Mother and child will also have the incredible opportunity of trusting in God. He can bring healing and freedom if everyone involved is faithfully committed to the process without trying to control, force or define the fruits.

John the Baptist was a radical disciple, but he wasn’t Jesus. Living into that Truth sets the Holy Spirit free to turn mustard seeds into mountains, and to straighten the many crooked roads in our world. May it be so for this young girl and her baby boy.

Household Gods

2011-02-13T17:48:00.000-08:00

This morning in the shower I had a thought which struck me as True: I was thinking about how difficult it is for people to give extravagantly to God’s work, particularly in regards to financial gifts. I am convinced that the reason has more to do with fear than with selfishness. My thoughts turned to the ministry of James Fraser among the Lisu people of China. The one sure sign that a family had turned to Christ was that they would destroy their household gods. Fraser would not baptize them until they had done so. Destroying the household gods was a huge decision, considered extremely foolish by many onlookers. In fact, Lisu observers were certain that the gods would wreak vengeance on the offending family, and perhaps even kill them. In Fraser’s ministry, conversion to Christianity was a family decision, and if the family decided to follow Christ, the men of the family would destroy the household gods with fear and trembling. For a poor family particularly, this was a true step of faith away from their only (perceived) security.

Maybe you see where I’m going with this: We, too, have household gods. If we become extravagant in our response to Jesus’ call on our lives, we are often considered foolish, and onlookers await our “ruin.” We have become devoted to the point of worship in regards to our finances. If we manage to save a good bit, then we feel proud, wise, safe. If we pitch perilously close to bankruptcy (or worse), then we don’t need anyone else to tell us how pitifully we have failed. And to consciously “burn the gods” (become poor, or much poorer, for Christ’s sake) is even worse in many minds. As one of my relatives said to me years ago, “Why would you choose to be poor?”

Of course I’m not poor, not in any sense of the word. As I was packing up my house today, I set aside “a few treasures” to bring to Casa Lamb for safekeeping. My few treasures filled up the back of my car – not counting my children, the six puppies and their mother, and my guitar. On my way to Casa Lamb, my mind was roiling with the Truth about “household gods”: how much is too much? How attached am I to material things? Am I being extravagant in my response to the Lord?

Although some Christians claim that money has nothing to do with spirituality, the Scriptures are clear that how we “handle our finances” is perhaps the most visible and telling expression of our devotion to Christ. May we respond extravagantly to the extravagant love of Jesus towards each of us!

Rat Evac

2011-02-09T18:55:00.000-08:00

Some of you might remember that last year the ceiling in my bedroom crashed in, and a huge pile of bat droppings and nesting materials turned the room into a code five health hazard.   Wheelbarrow loads of yuck were carted out.   We were able to replace that ceiling, as well as the ceiling of one other bedroom and the two bathrooms.   The rest of the house had to wait.

We went to the States for five months.   While we were gone, lots of creatures moved back into the house:   mosquitoes, spiders, mega ants, and RATS.   I don't even like cute little mice, so the rats were hugely unsettling, especially at night when they would run around over our heads on the fragile ceiling.   They sounded like fifteen Garfields having a party.   Needless to say, sleep was interrupted.

We fumigated the house twice, and treated the rats to a deadly banquet inside the ceiling.   The overhead night life stopped, and we could sleep without insect repellent.   However, the "victory" came at a cost:   Between the fumigations, the poison, and the very contaminated roof situation (dead rats, rat poop, rat nests), the girls and I have been sick almost non-stop.   Tonight Sallie has a temperature of 103.   We have evacuated to Casa Lamb, our missionary guesthouse, and the ceilings will be torn out next week.   I really do not want to be there for that!    The ceilings, by the way, are asbestos.   How do you say multiple contamination in Spanish??     Grosero!!

And after putting four children into school, carrying everyone continuously to the pediatrician, and now replacing a roof, I also need to apply for a Gates Foundation grant!

Needless to say, while all of this has been going on, we have been trying to get to school, take care of teams, etc.   Today we had a wonderful Open House at the school in Flor. 194 children are enrolled this year, and there was a spirit of excitement in the air.   Beautiful.   I had been invited to give "a short spiritual talk" (I love our school director, Jacqui; she is very specific!), so I talked about how a quality Christian education is more than a useful tool; it is an instrument of healing and liberation.   Leamarie True, who is here for three months training teachers and encouraging our two school staffs, said afterwards, "Being a part of this makes my heart sing." (smile)    Me, too.

Rats or no rats, evac or no evac, my heart sings when I am on our soccer court with about 200 children, their parents, visiting teams, and our wonderful teaching staff joining them in worship: "Lift up your eyes and behold: the harvest is ready!/The time has come!   The field is ripe!/Rise up and proclaim: Jesus is Life!"

YES!!   JESUS IS LIFE.

Thank you for your prayers for our home, our continued displacement, the girls' health (especially Sallie), and funding for our school (see the 20/200 Campaign on our website:   http://www.lambinstitute.org/).

And rejoice with us that our hearts are singing, come what may, because of Jesus, whose Presence brings healing, liberation, and life itself.

Photo Gallery

2011-02-07T18:23:00.000-08:00

Here are some photos to supplement recent blogs:

This is Christi Maria, the baby I fell in love with at the hospital.

Jan Kramer from Atlanta made a new banner for our church: "The Good Shepherd Anglican Church"!

Baby Moses needs an adoptive family!

Elsa is enjoying a "Spanish churro," which I did not see in all of my travels stateside. I guess you'll just have to come down here to enjoy one!

"Group Season"

2011-02-07T06:42:00.000-08:00

"Group Season" was officially heralded in on Saturday as two teams arrived: one led by Son and Helen Trask from Mt. Pleasant, SC, and the other led by Al Thompson from the Atlanta area.   Among its members, Son and Helen's team has a couple (Steve and Debbie) from Pennsylvania, and a couple (Rick and Gale) from Montana!   LAMB is truly expanding its borders, which is very exciting.

Yesterday our children attended church elsewhere, so the Atlanta group went to Cristo Redentor, and the Mt. Pleasant group joined me at the Baptist Church I attended for awhile years ago, and where my son Noah plays guitar with the praise team.   We saw Betsy, "the walking miracle," a cancer survivor, good friend, and truly a faithful soldier of Jesus Christ, heard a great sermon on running the Christian raise with patience, courage, and faithfulness, and of course enjoyed beautiful praise and worship.

Afterwards, both teams went to Valle de Angeles to shop.   Sallie and Elsa were stuck like glue to Helen Trask, so off they went, too, and came home very tired and happy.

I spent most of Sunday afternoon at the hospital visiting babies. Actually, to be truthful, I picked up a little girl (4mos) whose mother left her there last Wednesday, and carried her around for two hours.   I left my card with the nurses and a social worker:   "I would LOVE to help with this baby."   Her name is Christi Maria, and she is a doll.   We'll see.   Only God knows how to work these things out, but when I first saw her last Thursday while visiting Moses, I definitely felt that she wanted to go home with me.   ha.
For the next two months, we have groups coming down non-stop.   We 're so blessed to have tons of friends!!   And I am praying praying praying that we can finish the boys' cabin by the end of summer, and also get the water situation well on its way to being resolved.   I have set up my office in the church, and am hoping to spend lots of time at the children's home as a support to the staff and children, and also to be with our friends from the States as much as possible.

On the home front, Mary is loving college and doing great.   Sallie and Elsa love their little school, too. Elsa is even wearing her skirt on Mondays without complaint!    Lety starts school next Monday at a Christian high school.   I'm praying that she will experience a fresh wind of the Spirit there.   Sometimes you just can't fully appreciate the spirituality of your mother, if you know what I mean.   I pray she'll find someone with whom she can connect, and begin to develop her own relationship with Jesus again. And Lucy . . . well, Lucy is all about playing and being LOUD.   I can't wait until August to put her into kindergarten!   I'm praying for a dynamic, patient, godly, strict teacher for Lucy.   :-)

Oh, and we have six new puppies!!

Thank you for keeping all of us in your prayers.    Without prayer, we are definitely a ship without a rudder.    Much love in Jesus, Suzy

Jasmine, Linda . . . and Moses!

2011-02-01T18:04:00.000-08:00

Trusting in the unseen, having faith without visible evidence -- these are spiritual exercises described in the Scriptures. God is at work in the spiritual realm where the real battles are being waged. Our part is to trust Him, and to go forward as if the victory were already won.

I'm trusting God for Jasmine and Linda. Jasmine took off late yesterday afternoon, promising to return today. She did not. I didn't really expect her. She's back on drugs, high on street freedom, and not interested in attempting once again to make her way to freedom in Christ. What can I do? I can visit her on her turf. I can pray for her. I can remember that God's eye is on the sparrow, and that He will not forget Jasmine.

At Social Services today, I spoke frankly about Linda's case. I was given an explanation. In the end, we made peace.   I was then told about FIVE babies who need a place to go. Oh, my.   One of them has a serious medical problem. Dr. Ken Holden is here, and we have talked about this baby, whose name is Moses (see him above).   Please pray for little, 4-mo-old Moses, who needs quite a few miracles.

In the end, I said, "If you consider moving Linda again, please think about giving her back to me."   The social worker said, "You want her back?" What a question!    It is very difficult to work at Social Services, and these people are worn out from trying to figure out how to manage children's lives.   I pray that we will never "grow weary from well-doing" as we care for our own littlest lambs.   Lord, refresh us each and every day as we love Your children in Your Name.

And strengthen our faith, "the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen" (Hebrews 11: 1), as we ride out in Jesus' Name for Jasmine, Linda and Moses.

RIDE OUT WITH ME

2011-01-31T12:06:00.000-08:00

I was in a dark mood this past weekend. As I described in Friday’s blog, I was feeling sad and discouraged, and although the Lord spoke to me about hope during Elsa and Sallie’s program, I could not entirely shake the blues. Sunday morning before church I ranted and raved at my girls about the condition of our house. It wasn’t completely undeserved, but not exactly prayerful preparation for church, either! By the time we got home from church, my head hurt and I just wanted to make like an ostrich and find some sand to stick it into.

Lord of the Rings is a “spiritual warfare story” for me. I’ve watched the movies numerous times, and read the books through a couple of times as well. It’s one of those tales which never fails to speak to my heart and spirit, sometimes through one character or event, and sometimes through another. I selected the middle part, The Two Towers, and asked God to help me back into the Light.

This time the battle scene at Helm’s Deep was the part which the Lord used. King Theoden had taken his people to this “impenetrable” fortress, despite counsel to engage the enemy in open warfare. The fortress was penetrated, and as the King and the not-yet-king, Aragorn, waited for the enemy’s final devastating onslaught, Aragorn said, “Ride out with me.” “To death and glory?” asks Theoden. “For Rohan,” declares Aragorn. i.e., Ride out with me into the teeth of the enemy for the sake of the people, so that they will have hope, and so that the enemy will see that we have not given up. Ride out with me, taking the offensive, instead of waiting here for our inevitable doom. Ride out with me, with courageous joy, seeking the victory which appears impossible.

I sensed the Lord saying, “Ride out with Me! Stop sitting around worrying, waiting for more bad news. Ride out with Me into the teeth of the Enemy for the sake of My people!”

But how? Where? I asked. This morning I received the answer: Jasmine and Linda. Jasmine was going to be the first young girl in our new safehouse. She was doing great in detox when I left for the States, but a few weeks later she ran back to the streets. Linda was a baby whom we cared for in our own home. As the time grew near to go to the States, we took her to the children’s home. Social Services came and picked her up, claiming that we had not cared for her properly. In both cases, I had felt angry, then sad, and then had allowed myself the “we can’t help everybody” point of resignation. But this morning the Holy Spirit said, “Ride out with Me into enemy territory. Let’s get Jasmine.” As I walked around the smelly, trashy, sleazy red light district Jasmine was known to frequent, I asked the Lord to lead me to her. I saw two young women who looked as if they might know her. It is painful to ask prostitutes and drug addicts the whereabouts of someone you love, but when I mentioned Jasmine’s name, one of the girls jumped up excitedly: “You’re the gringa! Jasmine’s godmother! She told us about you! Can you give me money for coffee? I’ll show you where she is! A little something for coffee?” She led me around a corner and towards a very dark opening. “Jasmine!! Jasmine!! The gringa! Can I have money for coffee? Jasmine!! Hurry! Just a few lemps for coffee?” Jasmine came flying out of the opening, which looked very much like the mouth of the Dark One, and grabbed me around the waist. She smelled like liquor and many days without soap. I gave the other young woman “a few lemps for coffee,” grabbed Jasmine around the shoulders and started walking. We stopped a couple of blocks away to buy some clothes that fit and that covered her a little better, and then hopped a bus into a better part of the city where I had left my car. Jasmine’s story will no doubt be continued in future blogs.

As for Linda, I hope to get to Social Services tomorrow. I’m going to tell them that I have felt moved by the Holy Spirit to give them an opportunity to apologize. J And maybe even give Linda back. Would you, in your prayers, “ride out with Jesus and me?”

He Turns Our Mourning Into Dancing

2011-01-29T06:02:00.000-08:00

What a sad afternoon yesterday!   We had Valerie Fowler's "despedida" (going away party).   She has been with us, living at the children's home, for nearly FIVE years!    The children gave her a wonderful send-off.   We love her so much.   I felt sort of desperately sad, but did not cry.   After the program, Olga who works with our CAP program and knows about every needy situation in Flor (hundreds or thousands), approached me to tell about a few.   She cried. My heart fell further, but no tears.   I walked over to Evelyn to ask if we have the resources to help with some of the situations Olga described.   Evelyn explained our financial situation.   My heart was threatening to take up residence in my big toe at this point, but I still did not let the tears flow.

A couple of hours later I was seated with lots of other parents at Elsa and Sallie's school for a big annual program.   We are the newest family in the school, and I have been as scattered a mom as usual, so really have not understood this "annual conference" thing completely.   All of a sudden Sallie's name was announced to sing a SOLO in front of all of us!!   I had just gotten a new cell phone, and so was frantically trying to figure out how to take a photo.   Sallie was so courageous.   A few minutes later, she won a medal for second place in a track relay.    Then I started thinking, "Oh, no. Elsa is going to feel badly that she didn't win anything."   Sure enough, here comes Elsa to sit in my lap and tell me she hadn't won anything.   "Don't worry," I said more hopefully than I felt, "The night isn't over yet."   A short time later, Elsa WON the science fair for first grade!!!   I just about fell out of my chair.

When did the tears finally come?   During Sallie's song.   I looked at that beautiful little girl wearing a butterfly headband, bravely holding the microphone and singing "Open the Eyes of My Heart, Lord" in front of about 200 people.    Into my head came this thought:   "Olga could have been telling me Sallie's sad story today.   She could have been that 3-yr-old little girl begging on the streets of Flor."   Many silent tears flowing down my face: Yes, there is hope.   Each of our rescued and restored children breathes those words:   Yes, there is hope.   God is seeing that precious little girl and so many others.   By His grace, we will find a way.

Jesus turns our mourning into dancing.   He raises our hearts from our big toe into the heavenly places with Him.   Where there is no way, He makes one, and His ways are always breathtaking.    Thank you, Jesus, for being the hope of the children, and for reminding us that Your miracles are right in front of us, wanting to be embraced by faithful followers of the Lamb.

Notes to God

2011-01-27T06:32:00.000-08:00

On Tuesday afternoon, I took Sallie and Elsa to a funeral with me.   Isabel, a dear sister from Cristo Redentor, participated in a church retreat on Sunday, and then had a massive heart attack on Monday.   She went Home "prayed up," and although we will miss her, there is no doubt in our minds that she is fully enjoying the neverending prayer and praise session in heaven!

So during the service, I noticed that Elsa had a little piece of paper carefully folded into a small square.   I indicated that I'd like to see what it was all about.   She leaned over and whispered, "No, Mom. It's a note for God." To which Sallie immediately added with authority, "Oh! I know how you can get it to Him!"   So, if you want to know how to get your messages to God, just Facebook Sallie.   She's got the inside track.

I did get a look at the note to God later. It said (in English!), "I love God. I love God. I love God."   I think He'll love that note.   I might send Him one myself, as I am falling in love all over again with Jesus.   I'm back in my adoptive country, enjoying my adopted children (all 70 or so!), and am present once again for Holy Spirit action among us.   It's wonderful to be in the Presence of the Living God.

Ken and Pat Holden's medical brigade is here and working hard.   We saw over 200 people yesterday in San Buenaventura.   I translated for Dr. Jamie Ravenel, whose mother-in-law (Helen Barkley) was a true spiritual giant at St. Philip's Church, and also a spiritual support for me personally.   She was so excited when I was sent out as a missionary!    No doubt she was smiling on Dr. Jamie yesterday as he doctored; now he is a missionary, too!

Please be sure to check out Amanda Scott's blogs.   They are so good!   Her blogs have PHOTOS!   I might learn how to do that one day.   You can find the link to her blog page on our webside: http://www.lambinstitute.org/.   You will love the pictures of our new director, David Gradiz, leading a game at our "Woman's Day" celebration.    When you see the physical demands of the game, you will understand why I was the first person eliminated!

Much love to all of you in Jesus.   He is truly the Lover of Our Souls.   His abundant life is for TODAY. May you enjoy His Presence continually.

Hugs, Suzy

"So, what do you do on a typical day?"

2011-01-19T14:09:00.000-08:00

The question in the title of today's blog has been asked often during my trips to the States.   It is, perhaps, the hardest question of all to answer, mostly because I rarely have "a typical day."   Today, though, was fairly typical, so I thought I'd share it with those of you who have asked (or thought) this question.

I got up early, fixed coffee, spent a few minutes in my Bible and in conversation with Jesus, checked my emails, and then woke up Sallie and Elsa for school.    Sallie would not get up.   I finally gave up, got Elsa ready, and Mary, Elsa and I headed out the door:   Mary to university, Elsa to first grade, me to work.   On the way into the city, Mary shared with me that a little girl has been bullying Sallie at her new school.    It all started last Friday on Sallie's birthday. I took cake and ice cream to her classroom for a little celebration, and as a special surprise for Sallie, I invited her birthmom, Margarita.   Until then, Sallie had been the new, popular second-grade girl. After that, however, a little girl in her classroom declared that Sallie's mom was "poor, fat and stupid, and so Sallie must be, too," and began to encourage the other children to exclude her from their play and conversations.   So when I dropped Elsa off, I went inside the school and shared our dilemma with the school principal. We are awaiting a response.

From school, I went to buy dog food at the feed store, and then I drove up to our ministry office for a 9am meeting.   When I got there I signed a letter authorizing one of our ministry workers to receive a pick-up being donated to us by USAID (hurrah! -- if it runs), and a letter of recommendation for a couple in the process of adoption (hurrah! -- if it's approved).   The meeting had to do with a ministry worker whose job became obsolete in September, and who should have then been given her severance pay.   However, there was a pretty big disagreement about how much was owed, and both sides contracted attorneys.    I was not here when this happened, or it would not have happened because we never ever win labor disputes. Ever.   However, our Honduran staff, eager to save us some money, and perhaps show me that a victory was possible, threw themselves into what always ends up being a nasty fight.   By the time I got back to Honduras, the fray had turned into a lawsuit.   At the meeting with the woman and her lawyer, I asked the woman's forgiveness, explained that our staff was trying to protect our resources, but had made a hasty decision in contracting an outside attorney (who turned out to be corrupt), and that I hoped she would accept our apologies and a check for the full amount of her severance pay.   She did, thanks be to God, and we parted reconciled.    I spent a few minutes with our legal guy, encouraging him to be careful when seeking outside help, that when it was necessary to do so, we should be as certain as possible that the person shares our Christian values.   He then asked my forgiveness. "I messed up," he said. "Sorry."   We hugged.   The entire encounter from start to finish lasted 45 minutes.

From there I went to Children's Court.   Lucy's birthmom had requested to see her three older children, and she had asked me to go along.   Because of the other meeting, I didn't promise, but since it was over quickly, I took off for the court.   Guess what -- it had changed location!   ugh.    I finally found it, and thankfully was able to find Maribel pretty quickly. She was understandably anxious and tearful.   She had not seen the children in five years.    Only two of them were there; the uncle had placed the seven-yr-old girl in a children's home.   He was telling the social worker that he wanted to place the boy in the children's home as well.

Since Maribel has been in prison, and has run with thieves and gangs, she does not have a lot of credibility at Children's Court.   However, for the past year, she has been trying to live a different kind of life.   She isn't doing drugs, and she is looking for honest ways to make a living.   She has placed her baby, Fernando, in our daycare in Flor.   She was very glad to see me, as she was there all alone trying to get permission to visit her children, but without anyone to speak for her.    I sat with her as we had an interview with the social worker, a very nice lady who spent a good bit of time encouraging Maribel to be hopeful and to continue to get her life on track.   Maribel is only 25 years old, but is understandably depressed and insecure.    After the interview, we left Children's Court and went somewhere to talk for another hour or so.   I wanted to give her some more encouragement.

After that, I went to the grocery to get some food for our house, and then stopped at the bank to pay the light bill.   When I was about the third person in line, all of a sudden a well-dressed lady broke out of the line and stomped up to the window ahead of everybody else.   Nobody said anything, but the body language and facial expressions were priceless -- and loaded.   While "the rich lady" was at the window, an older woman came in, and she also went to the front of the line (senior citizens' privilege).   I quietly remarked to the lady in front of me, "One day we'll either be rich or old, and then we can go to the front of the line."   She looked at me and laughed and said, "Your Spanish is very good!"

After the bank (and a chocolate milkshake), I picked up Elsa.   We stopped on the way home to look for the things I forgot to get at the supermarket (old, forgetful people have to do these things!), and to get some poster paper for Elsa.   Only pink was available, to which Elsa emphatically said no (she does not like pink!).

We came home.   I am sitting at my computer writing this blog.   It is 5:00pm.   My typical day is not yet over, but this blog must have an early ending.

My thoughts are swirling around Maribel and her children.   Maribel can't stop beating herself up because of the damage she has done to her children by her behavior.   She said, "I told myself, 'The world has treated me badly, so I'm going to do all I can to hurt the world, but I didn't mean to hurt my own children.'"      This is a young woman who was given away as a baby, sexually abused from the age of eight by her own father, and then picked up by a father-figure pimp at age twelve.   By age fourteen, she'd already had her first baby.   And yet she only blames herself.

Please pray for Maribel, and for all those who need to know that Jesus is for them.    When I dropped her off, I put my hand on her head and said, "I love you.   And Jesus loves you, too. Keep hoping."   "Really?" she said. "I don't know."

I leave you with the desperate uncertainty of the brokenhearted.

2011-01-17T16:44:00.000-08:00

One of the national newspapers in Honduras is running an investigative series on the situation of this small country in relation to violence.    With the recent events in Tucson still in the news, as well as MLK's birthday this week, my mind was fixed on the topic already.   It appears that Honduras has two cities (San Pedro Sula #3 and Tegucigalpa #6) which were recently included in "The Top Ten Most Violent Cities in the World."   Today's headline in the series read: "Honduras: In the Corridor of Death."   The focus was on drug trade and human trafficking, and talked about how the flow of contraband through Honduras has been the cause of most of the violence.   I tell people that most Hondurans are by nature peace-loving, and I still maintain that perspective.   Organized crime, gangs, drug lords, human traffickers, kidnappers -- these people are not representative of the general population, and in fact have lost all conscience in their obsession with money.

How do we as Christians respond to such overwhelming acts of violence?   It is a challenge to fight back fear.    It is nearly impossible not to feel extreme anger, a desire for revenge.   Apparently during the Christmas holidays, some people were robbed near our home in the country.   Robberies increase at Christmas, of course, and these folks were trying to get home with their Christmas bonuses. Not long after Christmas, the two guys who had been identified as the thieves were found dead.    Most people around here believe that the police killed them.   This kind of "justice" doesn't happen so much in the States, but down here it's fairly common.   The prisons are overcrowded, and quite often someone (police or not) takes matters into his/her own hands.    While many people applaud these executions, I don't think that any of us would say that it is the way of Jesus.

We must be peacemakers:   We must pray for our enemies, bless those who curse and persecute us, turn the other cheek, take up our Cross and follow Jesus into suffering and death.   We must forgive.

It appears that the world is in an increasing spiral of violence.   There are the usual wars, but terrorism and delinquency are without geographic boundaries now.    Violence is literally everywhere.    God's people must be everywhere, too, living and loving in peace.   As Elaine Heath says in her book, The Mystic Way of Evangelism, "Love is God's meaning."   It must be ours as well in the face of rampant violence.   Shalom.

Comparing Christmases

2010-12-29T12:08:00.000-08:00

During these five months stateside, I think I had been trying to avoid a direct confrontation with the aspects of northamerican culture which stand in starkest contrast to Honduran culture. Call it culture shock or just plain homesickness: I tried to keep an emotional foot in both worlds. Christmas brought all of that to a head, and whatever battle I thought I was waging was decidedly lost on my part. What a tidal wave of all that is good and not-so-good in a USA Christmas! I felt overwhelmed with the perceived cultural expectations, and also overwhelmed by the constant, generous overtures of love. It is no wonder that the rest of the world gapes at our country's fascination with celebration, giftgiving, spending, eating, and even loving. The best-hope scenario for an average Honduran (for Christmas) is a special meal (tamales, torrejas, Coke) and maybe a new set of clothes. At midnight on Christmas Eve, a cloud of smoke can probably be seen by satellite all over Latin America as firecrackers explode non-stop for about 30 minutes. Once the noise subsides, many people sit down to enjoy their Christmas meal. Christmas morning is "celebrated" by sleeping late and visiting with friends and family. Gifts can be opened at any time; they are not the focus. My girls and I loved the Christmas Eve worship and being with our Christian family here. We also received many lovely things to take home with us, for which we are thankful. We all missed our community in Honduras, especially the children in San Buenaventura. They have been such a huge part of our Christmas celebration recent years! But we have loved growing closer to our stateside God-given family.

In short, there is no "better way" to celebrate Christmas; each culture has its own expression, and in the end, what floats to the surface is the joy of being together on Jesus' birthday. My family is thankful to have had the experience of celebrating Christmas with our stateside friends and family, and we will be thankful next year to be in Honduras. Wherever we are, Jesus is.

Peace, love and joy to all as we enter 2011!