Numbered With The Transgressors

I wasn't going to blog today. I have so much to do, and so much that should already be done but isn't, that somethings just had to give and today it was going to be the blog. 

Then I read Charles Spurgeon's "Morning and Evening" devotional for March 30 Click here to read). When I read Spurgeon's writing, I can't simply skim it or speed read it. His older English obligates me to actually stop all my mental multi-tasking and just focus on what he was trying to say. No zipping through. That's a good thing. We have so many easy to understand paraphrases and translations of the Bible available to us that I think it is easy to "zip through" without completely focusing all of our thoughts on what we read and meditating on it. Reading the works of people like Charles Spurgeon and Oswald Chambers is good mental exercise and builds study skills that I can transfer to my reading of the Bible. 

On my huge list of "things I thought I already knew but seem to keep learning again" is that Jesus doesn't just love me as I understand love, He loves me with an intensity I can't begin to fathom. He didn't just die for me, He also identified Himself with me. 

"Now, when the sinner is brought to the bar, Jesus appears there Himself. He stands to answer the accusation. He points to His side, His hands, His feet, and challenges Justice to bring anything against the sinners whom He represents; He pleads His blood, and pleads so triumphantly, being numbered with them and having a part with them, that the Judge proclaims, 'Let them go their way; deliver them from going down into the pit, for He hath found a ransom.' Our Lord Jesus was numbered with the transgressors in order that they might feel their hearts drawn towards Him." 

He came and was numbered with us, the transgressors. Sometimes we generalize that and forget that He didn't just become a face in a crowd of sinners that suddenly turned on Him. He counted the cost before He came, and did it anyway. He was loving and thinking of every individual one of us while He was being crucified, paying the price for each. Your price. My price. 

Because Christ was numbered with the transgressors, I can rejoice that am numbered with those whom He has made new. 

He is risen! Have a joyful Easter!

Everyone likes a good story!

Thursday, I was invited to share my testimony with the ladies from Nsango na Bomoi, the church that is pastored by our missionary friends Dan and Christine. I have been a little spoiled because each time I have shared my testimony here I have been allowed to do it in English with someone to interpret for me. This time, I was asked to share in French! Yikes! 

I only had a few hours' notice and still had to do school with Daniel so I sort of cheated. I knew I had forgotten a lot of grammar. I also was aware of the fact that when I am nervous, it is even more challenging for me to think in French. I had written my testimony in French during language school so I pulled that out and edited it a bit. Hooray for saving language school homework! 

French is the official language here, but even among the nationals not everyone speaks French. Many have not had enough schooling to be proficient in French. There was a woman in this group who only spoke Lingala so our time together involved a mix of English, French, and Lingala. I gave my testimony in French and Mama Louise interpreted it into Lingala. If she had a question about something I said, she asked Christine, who then asked me in English so that I could rephrase my original sentence back into French. 

Sharing my story with the ladies was a blessing for me not just because I got a review of some vocabulary I had forgotten, but also because it gave me a way to connect with them. As my story progressed, I could see the ladies smiling and nodding. We are very different in culture and background, but all of us had a testimony. Each of us had a story to tell about how we were burdened and empty before Christ had changed our lives. 

Stories are very popular here, so we also talked about the fact that nearly everyone likes a good story and that if a person is able to share the story of what God has done in their life, they have a very powerful tool for sharing the gospel. Then the ladies shared their testimonies, first in Lingala and then Mama Louise translated into French for my sake. Having heard these ladies' stories made me feel like I was getting to know them on a deeper level. They shared of painful experiences, of growing up in churches that did not teach the gospel so they spent years following rituals without having a true relationship with Jesus. 

A Cheerful Look

Original depiction of fictional anthropomorphic rabbit from the first chapter of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

One of the little quirks our family has is that we like to use anthropomorphism outside of the literary genre. We often ascribe human emotions or thoughts to objects, animals, even our food. We like practicing our vocabulary too (just kidding).

We like for our food to be happy before we eat it.

I have a spoon that I like way more than any human being should like any spoon. It's happy. We use it to make peanut butter cookies so they have smilies on them instead of fork marks. Cookies with smilies are way, way more fun to eat than cookies with prison bars. (As I said previously, we like happy food.) 

Last night during supper our happy spoon was gaily floating in a dish of green peas when my youngest made an observation. He studied the spoon for a bit and then said "How can he be happy sitting in a bowl of nasty peas? We should get a frowny spoon." 

Now, as far as I know, no one likes a frowny spoon anymore than they like a frowny person, so I will likely have an impossible time finding one. Who wants to serve veggies with a frowny spoon? No restaurant or business advertises "service with a frown!" 

I want to be like my spoon, and be able to offer a smile and a cheerful  look to those around me, even if I am in the midst of something nasty. I want my face to reflect the joy God has given me in my heart, and not my sometimes less-than-pleasant-green-pea circumstances.  

"A cheerful look brings joy to the heart, and good news gives health to the bones." Proverbs 15:30

Bone Tired?

We have been in Kinshasa for two and a half years now and sometimes, especially lately, I am just TIRED. It's more than a physical kind of tired, and my whole family is experiencing it. It is emotional, mental, and spiritual. My grandmother used to say "bone tired," meaning she was completely, through and through, weary and worn out.

Some things are just too good not to share. This morning I found this post by OliveTree: "How to Keep Going When the Road Seems Long." She tells of her struggles with growing weary but also graciously shares what God has taught her through the struggles. Her post is full of practical advice on how to keep going when it seems like we work and work and work and see few results. OliveTree reminds us that our labor in the Lord is not in vain; if we persevere, we will be rewarded.

In God's perfect timing He inspired OliveTree to write her post and I found it when I needed it. So, if you are or have been "bone tired," too tired to lift your fork at supper, to think about anything, even to pray - check out her post. I think you'll be glad you did. I was.

Widows and Orphans

Nancy and Nancy, heh heh heh

My friends Jim and Nancy Smith returned from their mission station in Nkara and will soon be on their way back to the U.S. for a few months. I had sent a sack of yarn with Nancy to see if any of the ladies in the Literacy Center would be interested in making baby blankets for the orphanage (more about the literacy center HERE) (more about the blanket project HERE).

One lady, a widow named Ibo, crocheted these blankets. That's her front row left. She is a graduate of the literacy center and now teaches the other students to knit and crochet. She told Nancy Smith that when her husband died, she became very angry. Then she went to the literacy school and met Jesus and He changed her life. Ibo has no children to help care for her. Culturally and economically, life here is very difficult for widows and for people who have no children; I was very pleased to be able to give her an opportunity to earn a little extra money. Now I have soft, new blankets to take to the orphanage before the chilly dry season arrives. Mama Ibo lives a long way from the children at the orphanage in Kimbondo and neither of them has any knowledge of the other. We are admonished in James that pure religion is to look after orphans and widows in their distress. By paying Mama Ibo for her labors and donating the blankets to the orphanage, one project is helping both! I think that is so cool beans!

Tuesday was my birthday. My family spoiled me and did all the dishes all that day and all the following day. Of course it had NOTHING to do with the face that my thumb is still messed up. It is improving. An adopting family came through last week and I was able to buy a splint for my thumb for them to bring. That has enabled me to give it both protection and support, so now I have a lot less pain.






We are all looking forward to furlough this summer. Already our family is praying for a place to live and transportation and doing our best to search for both from here. We have lots to do during our time in the states: doctor and dentist visits, settle Emily into college and teach her how to drive, visit family, friends and ministry partners, raise ministry support, additional training, shopping for supplies for the next term, home schooling Daniel, etc, etc, etc. Somewhere in there we are supposed to take some R&R. We would love for you to pray with us.

Sunday Drive

You may have noticed I haven't posted in a while. I fell on our patio and got to go get xrays taken of my left hand. Those of you who know me well know that while I am fairly ambidextrous, I write with the left hand. Nothing was broken, but before I fell I already had a sore thumb from a softball injury and now that middle joint is just not doing well. 

While trying to rest my hand and let it heal as much as I can, I've discovered some cool things I can do without using my thumb: tie my shoes, brush my teeth, and even put in a pony tail. Things I can't do without hurting my thumb or at least without it getting in the way: wash dishes, open cans, sweep/mop, chop food, grate cheese. Apologies to my family.

Last week we went I got a chance to see a friend from the U.S. who came here on business, as well as meet some new friends who were here to adopt three  children. We planned for all of us and my friend Christine to go to a local church together, followed by visits to a couple of orphanages and lunch together. 

We didn't get to go to the church because it rained Sunday morning and the roads were too bad, even for Christine's big tough vehicle. None of us were really dressed for mudding or for pushing vehicles.









It was a long, slow drive. We tried several routes. Each time we had to turn around. I was pretty disappointed and hope to get to go another day.

 
We did make it to the orphanages. Both of these orphanages are managed by Christians, one by missionaries and one by a Congolese family. This was the first opportunity I had to visit other orphanages besides the one in Kimbondo that I am accustomed to. These were much smaller. One of them is specifically for boys who were street children. 

We were greeted with a welcome song, the second time I have had that pleasure since coming here. These kids were waiting to have their meal but they didn't object to having lollipops for their "appetizers."

the kitchen

Cooking is done outdoors. This is not unusual in Congolese homes. There isn't enough space indoors for a kitchen, nor enough light or ventilation. When we arrived they were preparing lunch of fufu - a starchy hard to describe food made from manioc, the main carbohydrate here. It's sort of like mashed potatoes that you can pick up and hold in your hand and tear pieces off to eat, but not really. 




All in all it was a day of many emotions: joy for seeing my friend again, heartbreak at seeing the poverty and need everywhere we went, excitement for meeting new friends and going new places, anguish and helplessness for the tears and sobs of a child who was heartbroken, and tiredness after a long day. After the day was done, one emotion still remains, hope. God has placed people here who deeply love Him and are dedicated to helping kids by giving them a place of refuge where their most basic physical needs are met but also where they can be loved, encounter Jesus, and find healing for their hearts.

"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." James 1:27