And He said, "Follow Me..."

Someday, when I look back on years past and highlight the growth each year brought to my journey with God, I’m sure that I will stop at the summer of 2013 and mark it as one bringing the most change in all of my teenage years.

Strangely enough, as an adult, I was more clueless about life plans than at age five. From a young age, I had my life mapped out, and was sure of God’s specific calling for this life. I pursued high school and then college with determination to complete the “necessaries” paving my way into the wide world beyond that of my home. Life swirled with business – recording music, organizing benefit concerts for my sister’s Youth for Jesus journey, finishing my last college classes, juggling an intense externship at a local family practice, and then switching to the routine of work as a medical assistant at a clinic in town. But as I adjusted to a new schedule and became more independent, I faced young dreams with a new uncertainty.

August sunshine glistened warmly off of the little white church nestled in the Connecticut valley. I sat near the front and close to the piano, as usual, and listened as a youth spoke golden words of truth that sent home the realization…

“Friends, we cannot go if God does not send us…”

That’s what I was afraid of.

I am asked to surrender my own ambition, in order to make way for the willingness that must be present in my heart to go wherever He calls. I am asked to be willing to fulfill the humblest position of a servant in this world, that His dreams be fulfilled through me.  Who am I to say that that they are insignificant?

……………..

Months later.

Growing up, I had great dreams to travel across the world and share the gospel with those who were thirsting for Christ. I pictured myself treading through the darkness with a light that could never be hidden nor suppressed. I longed to see chains broken, hear cries of victory, and watch the world be transformed by God’s glory.

At my current time of my life now, I imagined that I would already be in some far-off place, caring for the hurting and hopeless, serving through evangelism, and touching hearts.

 But here I am, working at a small medical clinic in my home town, tempted to feel dissatisfied with my duties at home and in the clinic because it doesn’t feel like I’m doing a missionary work of any significance. This wasn’t my idea of being a missionary. 

Maybe that’s why a patient’s thoughtful question almost caught me off guard.

“Do you read something inspirational every morning?”

 I looked up after tossing a stethoscope around my neck, surprised.

“Why, yes,” I replied.

“I can tell,” he said thoughtfully, then continued. “What was your thought for this morning?”

 Placing away a blood pressure cuff in its proper place, my mind raced with thoughts. It was taking a chance to tell him. One patient’s complaint could severely damage my prospects as the clinic’s new medical assistant. Who had ever been so forthright about their religion in this establishment? But I saw that he was in earnest, waiting expectantly.

 “Through being faithful in the little things and serving others, I have the opportunity to point them to true happiness and hope.” My voice slowed, savoring the thought that I actually dared to continue on… “The happiness that can only be found in God.”

Following that experience as days and weeks passed, I found more opportunities to share my faith. I saw people clasped in heavy chains openly struggling for freedom and truth, while others were hiding behind a mask of smiles but carried heavy burdens on their empty hearts.

And slowly I realized that while I had been waiting for young dreams to come true, He had already placed me in a mission field. He called me to let go of future dreams that I might concentrate on the here and now. Live in singleness for His glory. And trust that I could go anywhere, absolutely anywhere, He sent me.

“Go into all the world…”

What if He does not send you across the world? What if “go” means go to your neighbors, your friends, your co-workers, and the stranger on the street in your hometown, until the whole world is flooded with light?

He may still have that place for me in India, or China, or South America someday, but the realization hits me that my mission-field is my corner – whoever that includes, wherever I am.

Sometimes it is as if I’m walking through the darkness with my little candle, hoping that others see it’s shining. I pray for the chains to be broken from the pain and hurting I see on many faces, and find songs of victory on my lips as I realize this: I don’t have to stand here, waiting for the dreams of tomorrow, when He has given me riches of blessing today.

I stand in an exam room, realizing that God sent me to my home town.

The man sitting in front of me pauses, thoughtful deep brown eyes looking up.

“Tell me of Saul on the road to Damascus. I haven’t heard that story before…”

 And so I tell him. I describe how the persecutor in all of his self-righteousness thinks that he is working for God, when in fact he is fighting against Him. Prepared to destroy, he is stopped on a pathway to fall helpless in a blinding light.

‘“Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?”’ I recount Christ’s words, marveling at a new meaning to the ageless story, suddenly touched by the tender pathos of Jesus’ cry. I continue, ‘“You’re kicking against the pricks.” Then, Saul saw the nail marks in Jesus’ hands, and knew that it was the Lord. God is speaking to us, but all too often we shut up our hearts from listening. Just as Saul kicked against the pricks on the road to Damascus, trying to drown out the voice of conviction.”

 The man is all ears, eyes riveted on mine. “A lesson for us today.”

There’s no reason why I cannot dream for Him in my hometown. Nothing makes this place less of a mission field than China, or India, or South America.

It is in the here and now that we are the missionaries.

Let us dream for God, but at the same time be willing to adopt His dreams if they conflict with our own. His are the sweetest.

He said “follow me,” so I surrender.

Borrowed Time

July 29, 2013

More than 6,000 in my country die each day –

But one out of these precious six-thousand today strikes closer to home.

Just a few months ago, a chest x-ray revealed a relentless cancer, spreading through his lungs; eating away at his body; and leaving him shocked, frustrated, and desperately fighting for life.

Clinical staff spoke of him in quiet tones, aware that the dying man was not emotionally prepared to breathe his last.

He arrived at the clinic – confined to a wheelchair pushed by a family member. Only his hollow coughs and the pumping of his oxygen tank broke the silence. He waited, face expressionless.

What can you say to a dying man?

“How are you doing, Fred?”

He looked up from his wheelchair with sad eyes as I led the way for the mournful procession into an exam room.

“Okay,” he paused. “I have no appetite. I can hardly taste anything anymore.”

As I took his vital signs, I glanced at his three relatives sitting by the side of the room. They shared quiet whispers as I worked.

What can you say to a dying loved one’s family?

“Have you been enjoying the summer weather?” As the words spilled from my mouth, I wondered why I even asked.

They shrugged, and glanced at each other. “I guess,” one replied.

Of course. Who would be enjoying the weather today when they knew a loved one would not be enjoying it with them tomorrow?

Wrapping a blood pressure cuff around his right arm, and placing the chest piece of a stethoscope, I listened to his heart’s steady rhythm.  In maybe a matter of days, this heartbeat will cease.

I paused before I left him, wishing that I could speak with him further, assure him of God’s faithfulness, and pray with him.

Before turning to leave, I softly placed my hand on his denim sleeve. “It was nice to see you again, Fred. I hope you have a good day.”

He nodded, looking up at me. “Thank you – and you too.”

I paused in the clinic hallway, closing the door behind me and trying to hold back a flood of emotions.

------------

It was the last look, the last interaction I would have with him in this world. I wonder what I could have done more to help him, and if the little that I did do made any difference to poor Fred.

My heart sank at the news of his death, and I wondered if he was prepared to die.

But oh friends…

Sin is a malignant poison, eating away at the souls of every creature. Humanity fights for life, desperate for love and peace, but so often turning away from its only Source.

The Lord never promised that our trail would not be marked with pain and tears as well as peace and joy. He never said that our hearts wouldn’t break and be broken again. But in this reality we find the beauty of His tender mercy – He does not promise to remove hardship and sorrow, but instead plants Himself by our side, to stand as our shield and support through every storm of life.

No pain is too great to overpower “the love that will not let me go.”

How do I dare to relax and enjoy the prospective “peace and safety” of today, when I know that precious souls lying in my pathway could spiritually (or physically) die tomorrow?

Waiting for a touch of love and compassion, yearning to know the peace that passes all understanding.

What is my life saying to this dying world of ours?

We’re living on borrowed time. More importantly, on God’s time. Are we living like it?

Simple Encounters and Sowing Seeds

Dr. Jesse slid her chair across the floor and eyed me, mentally calculating her words.

“What church do you go to?”

This was not the first time I had been asked this question. Friendship evangelism (often with adults) was something that I loved to do. And after every experience where I would end up sharing my faith, I felt even more indebted to my Redeemer. I wanted to do more for Him than ever before. The happiness and peace that I experienced from serving Him was thrilling.

I had come in for a regular check-up at the local clinic, and Jesse was asking me the usual questions that doctors tend to ask teenagers.

…“So tell me, do you have plans concerning education? You’re homeschooled, right?”

“Yes,” I smiled, “I am accountable to a high school up in Maine called NARHS.”

“Do you enjoy learning at home? I’ve met homeschoolers that have more friends than I do,” she laughed quickly, “and then others that are more socially lacking.”

“Oh I love home schooling!” I replied. “I enjoy being able to work out my own schedule and learn things at home that I wouldn’t have normally been able to at school: such as being a homemaker, cooking, childrearing, etc. in addition to my school work.”

“So do you feel like you have enough friends?”

“Oh yes. You know that every person we come in contact with will have an influence over us, which can be either negative or positive. What I enjoy about home schooling is that I can choose my friends much more carefully. And I have some very good ones.” I smiled faintly as I thought of a few in particular.

She nodded and tucked a wisp of dark hair away from her face. “So let’s say that you complete high school. What are you going to do then?”

“I’m planning on taking a correspondence course on Christian counseling.”

“Oh,” she nodded. “What then?”

“I’d like to spend time doing foreign mission work. But honestly, I want to go wherever God leads me, and to fulfill His mission for my life wherever I am.”
She hesitated, and I watched her carefully.

“Now I know many people your age are thinking about dating,” she went on to the next question on her list. “Have you ever thought or are you thinking about getting into a relationship?”

“I think that the world’s kind of dating is not worth my time,” I replied. “It is a bunch of young people fooling around with emotions, and all too often it ends with broken hearts. I don’t want to be like that. I want to be able to give my whole heart to my future husband - not broken pieces. So I won’t get involved in a relationship until I feel the Lord is leading me in that direction.”

A soft expression rested on her face. “Good, very good.”

It was then that she asked me about my faith. I was sure it wasn’t among the list of general questions she was supposed to ask.

I told her that I went to the little Seventh-Day Adventist church in Newbury.

“Oh?” she asked. “I knew some Seventh-Day Adventists up in Maine…they would invite me over for tofu egg…” she stopped. “….casserole? I can’t remember what they called it.”

After a few minutes, she brought up the subject again. “Now Seventh-Day Adventists…do they go to church on Friday?”

Now it was my turn to puzzle. “No,” I shook my head, “they worship on Saturday. We take the 4th commandment literally when it says the “seventh” day.”

“But are you sure it’s not on Friday? Every Friday night when I drive by that little church on my way home, I see cars parked along the road.”

“Vespers!” I exclaimed. “That’s what you’re talking about.”

“I hope you don’t mind me asking these questions,” she turned to me. “I grew up in a family of pastors, but I am still trying to figure things out.”

“I don’t mind at all. I love hearing about other people’s faith and what makes them believe what they do. I want to study the Bible for myself and know what I believe, because when you grow up in a home with particular beliefs, it is very natural to follow along with whatever you’ve been taught. There are so many churches in America…and I want to be sure that I’m in the right one.”

As I left the office, my heart was praising God for yet another opportunity to share His influence. “What a joy to serve Thee, oh Lord. I want to do this for the rest of my life!”

The ability to serve Him was an honor that I knew I didn’t deserve. I didn’t see anything in myself except unworthiness and merely being willing to serve as His instrument.

The only way I could think of it, was that His beauty melted my incapability by His sweet presence. I smiled happily, praising Him that I had the privilege to bear His image to a dark and dying world. And what comforted me as I pondered this experience, was that I knew His love during the course of my life wouldn’t just change the hearts that I touched - but mine too.