CHRISTMAS FEET

I think baby feet are cute and fun to kiss even but with the passage of time feet stop being cute and become, oh I don’t know, homely, unattractive, ugly even.  Over time feet change shape, stubborn fungi can grow under the nails and bunions and calluses grow.  Feet can change color and hammertoes can further disfigure and bring pain and the look and smell rule out any thought of kissing them.  I don’t think any amount or color of nail polish can make old feet beautiful, do you?

But Isaiah (52:7) was told to write about beautiful feet.  Later the Apostle Paul joins in in Rom. 10:15.  What can make ugly feet beautiful?  The feet that are beautiful belong to commissioned, sent feet, of runners/messengers.  We could say these are feet that are made for walking, running and carrying a beautiful message.  The ancient world did its “texting” not with thumbs flying over a hand held device but it was more a “full-body texting.”  Read in 2 Sam. 18:24ff of an example of a runner/messenger being sighted, even recognized by his run and making sure when within earshot that without all the details, the king knew that he brought good news.

So Isaiah gives us the picture of feet that have been sent with a message that even makes the feet of the messenger beautiful.  What kind of message can do that?  All the details aren’t given but as soon as the messenger is close enough to be heard, one hears the “beautiful-feeted” messenger say:  “peace, good news, salvation” all because your God reigns!  Now that is a “feet-beautifying, soul-saving, hope-filling” message for sure!

At a time when we are being told we are on the edge of an economic cliff, can hear and fear nuclear saber-rattling, be confused that moral confusion is increasing and see that persecution and oppression of the gospel are increasing everywhere, what are we to do?  We are to be on our feet [coupled with time on our knees] carrying a beautiful message at such an ugly time.  May it be so. 

Thank you for walking with us, partnering with us as we continue announcing this message to ourselves and each other and to those whose feet have taken them to many different parts of the world.

This message is universal.  This message believed now will be seen one day “ . . . in the sight of all the nations, and all the ends of the earth will see the salvation of our God!” (Isa. 52:10)

We wish for ourselves and you, “beautiful feet” this Christmas season and into the New Year [whatever your feet look like] as we announce the only truly Good News in this world!  

Keith and Bonnie

My Dad Was in Church Today!

Last Sunday I had my first outing since coming home from the hospital.  It was to go to church.  I was glad to be in church.  I found myself singing the hymns, reciting the Creed, listening to the sermon all a bit differently; changed by recent experiences.

At some point in this corporate worship experience on the first day of the week, when Christ rose from the dead and the first since Dad died, tears began to flow as I found myself captured by a deeply moving and profoundly joyful thought . . . my Dad was in church today too!

Joyful heart water leaked out of my eyes and heart as I thought about Dad being being known and loved by a lot of people who now finally “got it all right.”  He is singing with his wonderful voice at the top of his lungs, the “song of the redeemed.”  There is no trace of performance for this opera singer, just pure, unadulterated worship.  He is enjoying a quality of relationship with his God and Savior and the family of God that is perfect and overwhelms him with endless delight.  I’m so glad my Dad is in “church” today.  I’m so happy knowing he finally couldn’t be happier!

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Less than 2 weeks later Mom left behind Alzheimer's and this life to be "in her right mind" and join that worship service with her husband.  More thoughts to come...

A Tethering that Binds and Frees 

The pole stood tall and erect; at attention maybe even, ready for service.  Three infusion pumps were clamped on, bags hung and lines that ran from the bags into me!  We had been joined and would spend a 24-7 time together.  It soon was clear that I was tethered to this pole.  I didn’t go anywhere without it.  When it moved, I could move because when the plugs came out and I hung them carefully on the handles of the clamps, batteries continued to pump the fluids.  We could be mobile together at times but make no mistake, I was tethered to my IV pole.   That tethering became more and more unpleasant as the lines seemed to wear out my veins and spirit.  

It was, I suppose, both the unpleasantness and length of time that added to my intense satisfaction when lines were removed and I was able to push the pole as I had done so many times day and night as we padded along the floor, to the side of the room and then . . .  walk away from it.  It again just stood there, tall, erect; at attention maybe even.  But the tethering that bound us together had ended.  I was free!  I didn’t miss the sound of the wheels.   I didn’t miss the unplugging and plugging in.  I certainly didn’t miss the lines that bound us . . . I relished my freedom!

There is more to the metaphor for me.  That IV pole tethering produced seemingly inescapable bonds and made me long for freedom.  There is a tethering that brings freedom that I at times would seek to foolishly “unhook.”  Because of grace, I am tethered to an Immoveable Object . . . not a pole but a Person.  I move.  I move at times thinking, hoping that I might pull or push Him where I want to go, when I want to go.  It seems the “lines of steadfast love” are long enough so I do a lot of “moving” but the lines go from me to the One Who cannot be moved.  I have a Rock, a Fortress, a Defense.  This tethering, though I foolishly might at times confuse with bondage is in fact the only way to be free.  I am free to own my wanderlust; to realize that I wish at times I might be free of my “tether lines” but oh the joy and freedom of knowing the One at the end of my lines!  What a liberating bondage!  And one day I won’t need any lines but will just rest and see eternally His unseen lines that connected me, tethered me, to Himself.  I will enter the glorious freedom of a forever bondage . . . now that is a tethering to get excited about!

I think of June and the Barnabas Staff Meetings in WI like a tree, growing... soaking in the sunshine and rain... nourished!  This is a wonderful "family" we have been privileged to be part of!  The admin works hard at community - in fact it was the theme for this year's gathering, and we are grateful for those in leadership of this significant organization.  Community was not just a topic, just something explored, but something we experienced in our week together!

Little did we know then what was ahead for us this month, as Keith has written about on the home page.

As we look back at July-days, we're thankful for the Barnabas encounters we were still able to keep before yesterday's surgery-day including times around our table last weekend with a couple from Australia whom we would have been disappointed to miss. Hopefully soon we'll be back to Barnabas email and mentoring "work" and look forward to serving in September as a Barnabas Shepherding Couple for a week at ELIM, a Barnabas retreat center for missionaries in MI.  

My father often said, "We are on The Lord's Time," and so we are, trusting and very much kept!

“SHHHHH . . . I have a secret!”

For a time I had a secret.  Bonnie knew, she knows my secrets, but others didn’t.  I walked around during the day; walked around a lot of people and they didn’t know, they had no idea.   I was in bed at night and slept some and thought more about my secret and when and how I would share my secret so it wasn’t a secret anymore.

I tried to imagine how a woman might feel who now knew that she was pregnant; a miraculous life was taking shape in her; it had started, a process of cells dividing, multiplying and growing.  She had a secret of life to think about day and night and ponder and excitedly determine when and how to share her secret with others.

My secret was different but analogous.  There were cells secretly multiplying, knitting together, and growing in my body that hadn’t announced their presence yet.   Had my secret had a “gestation period” of months to grow undetected it would have given birth to death.  My secret was cancer in my colon found by a “routine colonoscopy.”

Just as a couple discovers that they are expecting a baby and they prepare for the future and know that everything about their lives would change, just so, we knew that and were doing that.  So it was with our secret.  It prompted quiet, tender, intimate conversations and included tears and even some laughter.  “Sacred” is an adjective to describe the times alone and together.  There were thoughts of preparation . . . lots to do to get ready; not the painting of a nursery or purchase of a crib and changing table but revisiting, remembering, rereading things I had shared with others when they shared their secrets with me.

In the midst of that preparation I really see the value of this secret not being a secret for any of us.   No, we don’t all have cancer growing in us but yes; we are all carrying death around in us.  Carrying life “shows” as maternity clothes must become part of a pregnant woman’s wardrobe.  There is no hiding that life is in her.  Death doesn’t “show” as readily; the gradual aging process can be disguised, hidden a bit sometimes.  The truth is we want to miss seeing it but it is there, in each of us, and it is good for us to know it is there, inside every single one of us.

Of course it is scary but it, like nothing else, allows us to know whether that is the only reality or if there is another reality, which is both more mysterious and complicated to know.  We can carry around death and life in the very same body at the same time.  Both are growing.  Both are waiting to be seen; one in all its ugliness and the other in all its beauty and gloriousness.  Both can be seen before their “end points” too.

Knowing this “secret” that death is working in us really does make the importance of the “secret of life” in us all the more valuable, and important and precious doesn’t it? We rightly say life is precious but how much more precious is that which gives life to life and means death to death?

By the stunning and magnificent and mysterious grace of God I’ve been born again to a living hope, which will be nothing less than eternal life that starts now and continues beyond my temporal death . . . life from the dead because of the One Who lives beyond His grave!   That is a secret I won’t promise not to tell!

My “secret of cancer” will require some surgery, some cutting and my “secret of life” which I promise to tell, requires some cutting, pruning too but it’s all to the end of more fruit that brings glory to the One Who gave life to me while I was in the process of dying.

Bonnie and I and our family appreciate your prayers for us.  I am scheduled for surgery on July 17^th and expect to be in the hospital 5-7 days.  This certainly is a part of our “wandering home” and know that we will post more later.

Thanks for letting me share my secrets with you.   

Keith and Bonnie

March 18, 2012

It all started when the suitcase fell out of the back of the van near Salcedo where the marriage retreat was held. It was scooped up by a local and dragged off in time before a big truck ran over it. I wonder now what the contents would have looked like without the intervention!

The ministry sessions with HCJB folks in Quito, prior to the retreat, reminded us again of the privilege of being with such a diverse and gifted group that God has put together to work in radio, medicine and water projects. This 80+ year old ministry has an intriguing history with many indications of God’s miraculous intervention to broadcast His words of Hope, heal the sick and bring water to remote villages. The other night we were with new friends talking through issues of transition as they prepare to leave the country, while in the background we watched the sun set on Cayambe, one of God's great creations surrounding this city of 2 million. Please pray for those who leave and those who stay. This mission, like so many are in the process of much change with all of the accompanying challenges and emotions.

Follwing the time in Quito and retreat in Salcedo, we headed down and up a few mountains to Yanacocha (Black Lake) for a church service in the Commuity Development van that our engineer friend, Bruce Rydbeck, was driving. Missionary drivers on mountain roads are really something to watch! There isn’t a lot of conversation but there is a lot of concentration, (as the rest of us chatted) and I’m thankful for the choice! Anyway, there was a lot of trust, which was well deserved. Bruce is an excellent driver!

The views of Tungurahua and El Altar were not only wonderful distractions, they were a gift of the splendor of God’s Creation that took our breath away! Usually that is only a good thing, but since we were a little short of breath anyway at nearly 11,000 feet in Quito, the phrase has a little different slant!

In this place of roosters, Keith preached about dear ‘ol Peter, the pain of the rooster’s crow, and the reminder in future crowings, of Peter; Graced, forgiven, restored and strenghtened! Bruce interpreted in Spanish to this gathering of Quechuas. I was asked to hold one of the two offering plates (one was for the general offering, and the other was for missions) and choked back tears as this black-hatted-poncho-drapped-crowd-of short-nationals dropped their coins in the plates. The widow’s mite came to mind for certain and I was deeply moved. Then I was asked to pray and Cherith interpreted. What I didn’t say but wanted to, was “God, please make me as generous as I perceive these followers of Yours are.” Perhaps I should have.

The church building was lovely! It was built by some with means who used to be part of the community

who combined their money and construction talents with that of the community, to get it built. This was in contrast to the village that the group from Carilise had worked at in 1997. And even though the toilets often had to be bucket flushed, the new bathroom was a far cry from to the burlap-doored-space on a little ledge to which we would carry our shared pink toilet seat! When we headed to the van and I took a picture to share following Bruce’s remark that the Carlise group was 15 years too early!

This was the same day that we had seen food presented at the marriage retreat that in a way both interesting and beautiful! The fresh fruit juices were such a treat and were enjoyed in the company of 17 missionary couples who came for growth and encouragement near the white water of the Black River which lay at the bottom of a gorge. Now we were served dinner at a card table with 4 white plastic chairs in a little room down the hill from the church. Seveal feet away 4 huge plates full of potatoes and onions, lettuce and tomatoes and Qui (guinea pig), were dished up, in spite of Cherith mentioning to the gracious cook, that we had had a very big lunch! Qui is a delicacy, a cash “crop” for the Quechuas and this was a gift of love indeed! But I enjoyed the potatoes and the very hot sweet tea the most. Can you imagine what they would think about us serving lobster?

Three men and two women ate at another table. That made me sad, but that’s the way it is....for now. Following the meal, Bruce moved to the other table to talk turkey (the phrase sounding especially funny to me since we had just eaten guinea pig) with them about a water project issue.

On the way down the mountain, we stopped at the oldest church in Ecuador made from an Inca Temple by the Spaniards.

The ride down to Shell made us so thankful for the many missionaries of the past who had been this way, including the "Ecuador Five," (especially having heard first hand from Elisabeth Elliott about her time here) and thankful for the new roads with rough hewn tunnels carved through the mountainside, completed 6 years ago, for present day missionaries. The old descending dirt road had been the only option for getting to Shell, with no guard rails. All kinds of vehicles would at times back up, shimmy, and do what was necessary to get by each other. There were T-shirts that sported the phrase, "I survived the road to Shell!!"

The day before was a day off on the side of a mountain in Banos with an active volcano - the last eruption was 6 years ago and we were full of questions about the history of this town. We arrived at Shell in time for some time with a lovely young national and the first evening meeting with us again thankful for the chance to offer what we could and what we have been given from His wonderful Word, to be an encouragement. Just like in the Philippines, there is much transition here too with many complicated issues!

This afternoon we have the opportunity to meet with the Community Development Group here for several hours with some teaching opportunities and the group initiatives :-)

Another plane just took off! We are very close to the runway and every time one lands or takes off, a siren sounds, which is quite often. Although just one small runway, this is the 3rd busiest airport in Ecuador - all small planes and helicopters used for many different needs (including emergency flights to the Shell branch of the HCJB hospital) as the best (only, in many cases) way to get around the jungle. We have no doubt we are in a rain forest - you should have heard the pounding rain this morning!

The next morning we were standing in the kitchen in Nate Saint's house where five women sat around a table and received news that their husbands had been killed. Here in this town (the end of the road then

in the 50‘s) the planes, and now helicopters, have continued to take off and land for decades carrying at first, new missionaries who were part of a wave in the wake of these martyrs. Now, almost all of the MAF pilots are nationals, as the Word and Work of Life continues. The sobering moments standing in that room were turned to prayers of thanksgiving and petition for those who still grieve the loss.

Another sobering moment on our way back up to Quito - crossing the gorge in a cage as we were told that the early missionaries crossed this gorge on something much less enclosed! No choice! Yikes!

And there was a little adventure to break up the trip with the descent and ascent to a lovely waterfall!

Please continue to pray for the missionaries that you support! Listen to them when they are on home assignment. Speak the truth of the Gospel to them - they need to hear it as much as we do! Write to them. Have them in your home! Provide for them... Care about their children! Be blessed! And thank you for your support in the privilege of this trip!

HERE AM I . . . WORDS FOR A NEW YEAR

This month I want to share with you some thoughts that were a digression from a direction in which I was going. Has that ever happened to you? Working in one direction and all the sudden you are off and running in another direction for a little bit before returning to what you were previously running after. I suppose that is like chasing rabbits but I sure hope you’ll agree this leads somewhere valuable not everywhere and nowhere.

Isaiah’s commission, which held him for some 40 years of ministry, was closely tied to a vision. A vacant throne due to king Uzziah’s death was contrasted with another throne which will never be empty or vacant for the Holy, Eternal, Glorious King of All is enthroned there; His rule is never ended, no dynastic successors or any successors, ever! So when Isaiah is traumatized by the vision of being in YHWH’s presence (we might say, “I AM is here,” close to where Isaiah is) he wisely responds with the only appropriate response: “Here I am . . . send me.”

Change the scene --- 11 terribly weak and very human men with whom we have great affinity and affection see the Risen Lord taken up before their eyes into a cloud I would understand to be none other than the “shekinah glory cloud” which hid Him from their sight. Was this another “I AM is here” time? Was that vision with their physical eyes not the basis of their commission?

Here is what I am wondering and certainly want to be corrected if this is incorrectly interpreting the Word . . .whenever anyone is given to see, for us with eyes of faith in the Scripture, that “I AM is here” we’re going to be saying: “Here am I, send me.” I know Moses had more to say than that and so did Jeremiah so this is not a wooden, certain principle perhaps but for me, moving into a New Year, it is helpful and practical to get a good look, a good vision of the Greatness of the God Who is salvation and when I “see” Him; know I AM is here, I am in His presence and belong to Him, all I want to say is: “Here I am . . .send me!”

We go to Asia this month for almost a month (Jan. 16-Feb. 11) because we believe we are “sent ones” knowing you go with us by your prayers and support. May we all think much about Him in this New Year and all respond as “sent ones” . . . our commission, our response to seeing the greatness of the LORD. May we wander home well seeing more clearly, more often, through the Word, Who He is.

A blessed New Year of serving and trusting in the Great I AM!

Keith and Bonnie