World Water Day
The text came through in the middle of the night:
Amsterdam. Taking a shower!
I smiled. I could only imagine how happy my man must be, after nearly two weeks in Africa, to arrive at the Amsterdam airport and indulge in the most lavish luxury: A hot shower. What an ingenious amenity for an international airport to offer!
Of course he had access to clean water, staying with Next Generation Ministries missionaries Paul & Pam Hunter. But there’s nothing like the feeling of hot, clean water drenching you from above, water you know is clean, where you don’t have to remember to keep your mouth closed tightly.
And here in Oregon, of course, in what feels like the clean-water capital of the world, we can turn a facet and drink ice-cold, crystal clear, spring water straight from the tap.
I remember three years ago, on this day, we did an experiment on this day: We didn’t use any water for a whole day.
It was AWFUL. We couldn’t flush. Couldn’t wash. Couldn’t drink. It was a bizarre year and there was snow on the ground, so I spent the day melting snow just to satisfy our thirst a tiny bit and try to cook something for dinner. I remember feeling so panicky, even just for one day, not having water available to wash my hands or drink, clean or cook.
I truly cannot even fathom having to live like that. And yet, so many do. To give you more info about the lack of clean water in our world, here’s a fun infographic, put out by one of our favorite mission organizations, Gospel for Asia: Perhaps you might consider today making a contribution toward a well, providing clean water for those who desperately need it. Thank you so much.
One Brave Thing
“It’s Daddy! It’s Daddy!” Heidi shouted, excited, as she ran into the living room holding my phone. I gasped, rushing to grab the phone and carefully swipe to accept the Facetime call. Jeff had only been in Africa 2 days, and I wasn’t sure if we’d be able to talk via Facetime at all. But here he was, calling. We huddled up anxiously on the couch, holding up the screen in front of our faces, waiting for the connection to come through. We waited … connecting connecting connecting.
And there he was! Clearly tired but full of joy, Jeff sat on his bed beaming into the screen. Heidi quickly began jabbering, telling every detail of our beach trip, holding up her new stuffed pony and gemstone sandals. Jeff listened long before sharing tidbits of his life-changing adventure through Uganda, following in the footsteps of our good friends Paul & Pam Hunter from Next Generation Ministries.
At the end, before hanging up, Jeff got face to face with Heidi on the phone.
“Heidi, I want you to do one brave thing, then tell me all about what you did. Ok?”
Heidi looked seriously, receiving her charge.
“Ok, Daddy.”
We kissed the phone-screen and said goodbye. I didn’t mention the brave-thing, but I loved that he challenged her with that.
See, my little darlin’ doesn’t come by bravery easily. Perhaps she gets it from her Mama. (smile) Caution comes quickly, and both my kids would always rather play it safe. I joke that I don’t have a thrill-seeking bone in my body.
But we don’t have to be dare-devils to be brave.
It was the next day when we were playing outside at Riversong, my parents country home. For months Papa had urged Heidi to take off her training wheels, but she refused. No way. She had no intention of ever doing such a thing. But this morning, Papa drove off for a trip to town, and as we pulled out her bike she paused. For just a moment she looked down at her bike, then up into my eyes. Then she said it quietly,
“Mama, let’s take off my training wheels.” I grinned, but didn’t make a big deal (I’ve learned the hard way that over-exuberance kills the moment for my kids), quickly found a wrench, removed the wheels, and held the bike steady.
“I’ll run along behind you and hold that seat,” I promised, but no sooner had we started than she called back,
“You don’t need to hold on.”
And just like that … she was off. Riding like the wind, golden-tipped curls streaming behind her, face full of light, open-mouth smile:
“Look Mommy! I’m riding! I can’t wait to show Daddy!”
You’d think she was born on that bike, the way she speeds around that driveway now.
That night, we curled into bed together, her little arms around my neck, her sweet-breath right on my face as she whispered,
“Mommy, I did one brave thing.”
“Yes, sweetie-girl you did.”
The next day she jumped up when the phone buzzed, holding up the screen while she waited for the connection. “Daddy! I did it! I did one brave thing! I rode my bike without training wheels.”
As I sat and watched the joy on her face, the joy on Jeff’s face, I couldn’t help but see the Father’s heart for us, His kids. He knows we’re afraid. He knows we’re not naturally courageous. He knows we’re prone to fear, caution. He knows that spiritually-speaking, we’re not much for thrill-seeking.
But He asks us just this: Do one brave thing.
You don’t have to raise the dead just yet. Maybe pray for a mundane miracle. Maybe give 10% of your income even though you don’t know how ends will meet. Forgive that person who hurt you so long ago. Trust Him with that relationship that’s gone haywire. Give extra kindness to the person who’s just so hard to love.
What is your one brave thing?
May today be the day you take off those training wheels … and ride like the wind.
Your Father will be so proud.
{Thanks for reading.}
On heaven and healing
“Heaven’s so wonderful. Why do we see it as a bad thing to go there?”
Her words made sense. She was making the point that, if we really meditated on heaven, if we really could comprehend how glorious eternity would be, then we wouldn’t get so up in arms about sickness and death. Cancer? Who cares! It just means we get to go to heaven sooner!
In her view, any terminal diagnosis was just a fast-track to glory.
True. Sort of.
Again I find myself stuck with trying to fit a novel on a post-it-note. But, this slightly skewed line of thinking leaves us limping along in powerless prayer.
Heaven is awesome. Let’s study up on heaven. It’s going to be glorious. No pain, no sin, no sickness, no funky relationships and disappointments. Food and music for eternity–a party! Super fabulous bodies–no flab, wrinkles, or thick ankles (ok that might be my wishful thinking). It’s going to be great. Our ultimate hope is most certainly in heaven.
But, quite frankly, we have work to do here.
Sometimes we act as though our desire for healing is because we just don’t understand how awesome heaven is. It’s exactly the opposite!
BECAUSE I understand how awesome heaven is, I want to take as many people as I possibly can with me there. I want to display the power of God here on this earth, doing the works Jesus did, so that countless throngs will see His power and bow the knee to the King of Kings. The result of Jesus’ miraculous work was that throngs of people followed Him. In Acts, when the disciples were preaching and performing miracles, thousands of souls were added to the Kingdom. Surely, some of those would fall away once they learned the hard way of following Jesus, a way of trial and hardship, but there was no denying the power of God.
Can God add people to the kingdom without signs and wonders? Of course! Can He save people without our help? Of course! If we stay quiet the rocks will cry out! But we miss out. If we ignore His mandate and His promises, we miss out on the greatest adventure of the ages, the epic rescue of souls for the eternal glory of heaven.
Never in scripture does God “heal” someone by taking them to heaven. Jesus never answered a cry for healing by letting them die, He never responds, “If you only understood how good heaven is, you wouldn’t be asking me for healing.” That’s not to say God doesn’t bring good out of sickness and death, God can bring good out of anything (Hallelujah!) and He always does, but let us not dilute our prayers by allowing that lurking doubt remain in our minds. When Jesus healed it was real, physical, observable, and complete.
Ok, Kari, but are you actually SEEING this? Where’s the proof?
I’m glad you asked. No, I’m not. While I have seen some “small” miraculous healings in the last month (a broken leg re-aligned where it had been mis-aligned, and a severe blood-sugar problem completely corrected), if I only look at my own experiences, I will quickly lose all hope.
When Peter looked at the waves, he immediately sank.
But I will not lower God’s Word to the level of my experience, I will continue to believe and pray and obey and repent and trust God to raise the level of my experience to His Word.[bctt tweet=”I will not lower God’s Word to my experience, I ask Him to raise my experience to His Word. “]
What does this mean for my mundane? When I pray in faith for my children’s sore throats, I am simply taking every ordinary opportunity to display the power of God. When I pray for my mom for the gazillionth time, I am simply practicing how Jesus said to pray and not give up. When I pray for Kara, I am standing on the promise of God and asking for His power to be so miraculously displayed in her life that thousands come to faith in Him.
Sacred Mundane? You bet! The power and presence of God invading our ordinary days:
Heaven on earth.
{Thanks for reading.}
Mishaps into Miracles
The conference was scheduled months in advance. I knew Jeff would be in Africa, but my parents happily agreed to come with me and watch the kids there at the coast. Perfect. I rented a small beach-house, right by the conference center where I’d be speaking. All set.
Until mom broke her leg just before the conference. Now what do I do? I have a conference, a beach house, and 2 kids. Hmm…
Of course, I prayed. Then I texted my mother-in-law. Could you come? She already had another trip planned. Next, my aunt and uncle. So sorry, it doesn’t work for us. Because it was a Mon-Wed conference, it had to be someone either retired or who didn’t have any normal weekday commitments and who would feel comfortable sharing a tiny house with us and taking care of my kids … i.e. there aren’t very many of those people!
But every time I prayed, I has this strong sense: Wait. Trust Me.
Days went by. Wait. Trust Me. With just a few days before the conference, the question crossed my mind. Where is the line between faith and irresponsibility?
Wait. Trust Me.
Then, just a couple days before the conference, Dutch asked if he could stay with my parents instead of going. Of course! I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of that, but it’s way easier to do things when it’s just Heidi and me. She’s a great little sidekick. Then, one hour after he asked that, the coordinator for the conference emailed and said she’d be bringing her two little girls and a hired helper, and that Heidi was welcome to play with her girls with the hired helper during my teaching sessions! This now meant that Heidi and I had a 3-day Girl’s Beach trip to ourselves, complete with a house and childcare provided during my teaching times.
In the course of an hour, what seemed like a test turned into a treat.
A mishap into the miracle.
But that wasn’t it. More miracles and mishaps were ahead.
The day of the conference, we got Jeff on the airplane to Africa, and met up with my parents to hand Dutch off. It was a gloriously sunny day, and we happened to be just blocks away from my dear lifelong friend, Janae, who I rarely get to see because both our lives are so busy. Just the week before, Heidi had been asking if she could please play with Janae’s daughters sometime. I texted her to see if we could swing by on our way to the beach. Our convo –>
By the time we swung by her house 10 minutes later, her kids already had their beach toys ready to go! “Just like old times!” She said with a smile, reminiscing to our college days when impromptu road-trips were a common occurrence.
That afternoon we laughed as the kids splashed in the freezing ocean. They came back to our beach house and huddled up around the fireplace while we made dinner then walked to the park, pushing them on swings and finally getting hours to catch up after way, way, way too long.
Late that night, she loaded up her kids for the long drive home. Just as they were pulling out, I remembered that I’d forgotten Heidi’s favorite breakfast cereal, a treat for our trip. I told Heidi quietly, and in the perfect storm of missing daddy, and saying goodbye to friends, and feeling a little out-of-place in this new house, she started crying. (Yes, crying over Cheerios.) I comforted her, and told her it’d be ok, and we waved goodbye and headed inside. We curled up in bed, but she still cried softly, missing daddy. I kissed her tears, and we prayed.
Then my phone buzzed.
Something’s on your porch. 🙂
Heidi and I ran to the front door. There it was. A big yellow box of cheerios and 2 pints of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. In college Janae and I used to eat B&J together, almost every day. I hadn’t tasted the super-rich, delicious ice cream in years.
Heidi jumped up and down, holding the yellow box. It’s silly, maybe, it’s just a cereal, but we poured her a little bowl as a bedtime snack, and it was just the little gift, the little kiss from God, to comfort her heart and make her feel loved.
The next day, still basking in God’s love, Heidi and I went to the conference. Again, a little mishap–the childcare option fell through. Now what do we do? My session was scheduled to begin at 2:00pm, and at 2:05pm I was sitting on the floor in the hallway holding my daughter, wiping her tears, assuring her it’d all be ok. Would it?
“I’ll tell you what sweetie-girl. I’d LOVE to have you with me while I speak. It’d be such a treat for me. You can sit at my feet, ok?”
And so she did. I sat behind a conference table, and she sat at my feet, playing with her stuffed animal and typing notes on my phone. At one point she tooted loudly while I was talking. Yup. It was all fairly awesome adventure.
The rest of the conference went on without much more mishap, but later, after getting home, I received a message from a dear gal who’d attended:
God used you a mighty way when precious Heidi was under the table. Your gracious love for her in that time really taught me a few very important things about my daughter. God got my attention! Thank you for letting your change of plans be for is glory.
That last line has so stuck with me, it’s become my prayer: “Lord let my change of plans be for Your glory.”
In His hands, all mishaps turn to miracles.
{For whatever mishaps you meet this week, may you place them in His hands, in trust, and watch Him work them into miracles. Thanks for reading!}