A Stirring in an Amish Valley--and a Possible Move for Us

 When Timmy called to talk to me a couple days ago (which he did for 45 minutes!), he said that Sunday morning an Amish family with seven children showed up at church! The parents had been converted, and consequently were excommunicated from their Amish church. 

But another man in church who is involved with the Amish up "in the valley" near that area says he feels there is a stirring of the Spirit in that valley.

And this Amish family at church, converted and excommunicated, are a testimony to that stirring!  

We have been hearing the same thing about Native American ministry, into which we are traveling in just a few days, down to New Mexico to head up a crew remodeling an empty office building into a school for missionaries to the Navajo near Grant,

since the present school building is bursting at its seams.

Despite the inroads and waves of c o v i d decimating some of the Native American population,

it may be creating more openness and hunger for God

as people look at unexpected losses, death, and eternity

straight in the eye. 

A stirring among the Native Americans...

                                          and a stirring in our own hearts in relation to that.

It looks like there may be some upcoming changes in our lives. In recent years, we've been making  Mission Helps trips to South Dakota to work at various missions under Society of Indian Missions. SIM used to have seven missions, and another mission under All Tribes in New Mexico just joined. We visited that one in New Mexico a year and a half ago, a mission founded by our friend Ward French back in the 1960's. Ward and Naomi French are on one or more boards in these missions.

The President of SIM, Keith Lavery, is son-in-law to Dale and Judy Sherman who used to be president of SIM till Dale died of cancer two years ago. Keith became president after that and had been after Jonathan for years about coming up and being maintenance director for the mission. And every time we'd go up there, I would wonder if we were a fit there.

When Jonathan first brought this possibility up to me, I was both shocked and not at all surprised. I had been feeling restless, like a change was coming, and had long been wondering about moving to South Dakota and helping SIM up there. I was shocked because I didn't think Jonathan would ever move or sell this house that he worked a year and a half to build, but I was not surprised to hear him ask me about going back into missions again.

 

Without hesitation, my answer was yes.

 

We drove up to South Dakota a couple weeks ago to meet with staff and spend the weekend helping, and I loved the native American colors even in the towels and wash cloths of one of the missionary's homes. Keith Lavery gave us applications to fill out. Those were sent in this week, and we are waiting for approval.

 

Although Jonathan wishes we could move right away, he has a contract of sorts to finish four stick-built houses, and so we wouldn't be able to move until late this year. Still, we are starting to make plans that direction. I have already sold a heavy armoire (a huge cabinet with doors and shelves and drawers) that I didn't want to take with us, but the only trouble is that now I am running all over the house trying to find the things I used to have safely stowed in that armoire!

Some of our family is leaving Saturday, Lord willing, for a week in New Mexico heading up a crew remodeling an empty office building into a school for a little Navajo mission school that Seth and Melody Yates said was bursting at the seams. 

 

There is a stirring in Amish valleys, among native Americans, and in our own hearts.

Stir on, precious Wind of the Spirit of God!

Stir on!

Crystal and Timmy--the Away Children

Crystal talked to me on the phone last Saturday and then sent me this photo of her later.

Am I just biased or is she really just as beautiful as I thought she was? 

And then she sent me a picture of a couple cousins with her, but I hope it is okay that I kept looking at my own sweet daughter! 

She had a few days off of school for sickness and then for snow days, and was up with her relatives over the weekend.

And then I got a phone call this morning from our Timmy who is now in Bible College, but who, in the photo above, was only 11 years old. 

I guess I actually taught him some piano lessons so he would know a little about reading music.

He took Elements of Music I last semester at Penn View and enjoyed it, even if he did have to get up in front of his class and direct a song a time or two! 

Now Timmy is pleased to be taking guitar lessons this semester under Jeffrey Anderson, who used to be the bass singer in the Penn View quartet, and is now on staff at Penn View and one of the song leaders at Beavertown Church. 

Timmy also told me that since Blake Cassady, who used to be freshman class president, stepped down due to being so busy with PR work now, Ryan Hoffman was voted in as class president for this semester, and Timmy was voted in as vice-president.  

Our country boy says he had no idea how to be president!

He's learning a lot. He's loving speech class, where he has already had to get up in front of class and have three speeches--an introduction to himself, a personal experience, and a pet peeve. He chose to talk about rain in winter for his pet peeve!

Since this particular speech did not have time limits, other students were going on and on for 8 to 10 minutes, and all 16 or however many students had to give their speeches in a one hour and twenty minute class! So Timmy got up and talked for just two minutes! 

"I didn't really have a lot to say, anyway!" he admitted.

I guess others did indeed have a lot to say.

But I'm thankful Timmy could decide to keep his pet peeve short. 

It is good to keep our pet peeves under control--to minimize their significance in our lives,

and to focus on positive things.  

Timmy also is loving his Gospels II class taught by Stefan Paulus. 

This week his assignment is to write a 2-page paper about what the gospel is.

He was discovering that putting into words what the gospel is, something that ought to be rather simple, was not something he felt confident about, and he was happy to be learning to do just that.

Timmy also has to prepare a 30-35 minute presentation with a power point for World Religions class under Michael Mason about a major world religion. For whatever reason, Timmy ended up with the choice of Taoism, a religion he knows nothing about! 

If any of my blog readers have had any friends or acquaintances who were Taoist, or who have any stories to relate having to do with Taoism, let me know!

It was just great hearing Timmy's eager and happy voice again! 

God, I Don't Want Your Grace to Be Sufficient! (Reposted from 2014)

 Dear God,

I don't want Your grace to be sufficient.

I just want this pain to go away.

I don't want Your grace, I just want this situation to get fixed.

 I just want this problem to resolve.

I just want this annoying person out of my life.

Dear God, I don't want your grace or anything.

 I just don't want to have to practice or have to take lessons.

I just want to play pretty music automatically.

I just want to always do everything right.

 I don't want lessons in character building or patience or humility or relationships.

I just want everyone to like me and approve of me--without me having to go out of my way to be friendly or act nice or speak to them kindly or forgive anyone or cooperate with people I don't like. 

 I just want cookies and cranberry bread and pretty red ribbons and sparkly stars. 

I don't want to go out in the cold and sing for people suffering from arthritis--

especially when my own heart is aching inside.

 I just want to stay home and listen to my favorite music.

I don't want to go sing for someone who can't get out of her chair on her own.

That would just add to my list of woes in my life.

Dear God, 

I don't want to suddenly go out of my designated, planned way 

to Christmas carol to old people sitting outside that nursing home smoking. Phew! It stinks. 

Dear God, people just stink!  

Why can't I be a hermit?

 Dear God, I don't want you to prune my bare, brown, dead branches.

Can't you see how ugly I appear when you do that?

 Don't you understand that it hurts when you cut parts of me off?

Dear God, why can't a second work of grace cure all my problems?

Why do you have to keep pruning and clipping--and making me cry?

 Dear God, why do I have to face temptation? Why am I tempted to be bitter about that person who has hurt me so bad?

Do I have to search for that way of escape, 

in order to bear it?

I don't want a way of escape. I'd rather not have to actually 

bear something. 

 Dear God, I guess I've made up my mind. 

I don't want Your grace.

I just want my comfort zone.

 But, God, I- I have to admit,

I'm finding it hard to say Amen.

 I'm a little afraid to say Amen, God.

I'm a little afraid that if that is really what I want, I'll be walking this long, lonely path

called life

all by myself.

I can't afford to walk this path alone, Lord.

And maybe, walking it with You means that I'll have to attend lessons in humility, and practice sessions in forgiveness and love, and lessons in what it means to walk in the other person's shoes 

until I understand where they are coming from. 

Maybe walking this path with You will mean that I will have to submit to things I won't like

or enjoy.

 Maybe it will mean ongoing pain.

Maybe it will mean that I will have to let go of my ongoing prayers for release from this ongoing pain, and instead get a grip on Your promise of

sufficient grace.

 Maybe it will mean that I will have to gulp back tears when I read this verse in Jeremiah 66:9 NCV),

"I will not cause pain without allowing something new to be born,"

says the Lord.

Dear God,

is the something new that you want to be born,

is it a new me in some area of my life that needs to be remade?

Dear God, I can't remake myself into someone who is just a little more

like Christ,

without Your grace.

Dear God, I'm willing to stop focusing on all this pain,

and instead look for the way of escape in order to bear it.

Dear God, I am willing to learn to lean harder on 

Your grace.

You said it would be sufficient.

God, can Your sufficient grace be sufficient for even this?

Dear God,  You said it would be. 

And now, Amen. 

Prayers for Ukraine

Just as I am finishing getting Treasures in the Sawdust in Ukraine ready for publishing, 

we keep hearing rumblings about the escalating tensions between R u s s i a and its neighbor Ukraine.

There were more than one prayer this morning in church for Ukraine and for God's hand to be over everything happening over there. 

We have personal friends there, including a special pastor, Pastor Roman and his wife Nadia and family. Roman had just called Jonathan a week ago.

Last Sunday, Jonathan and I and three of our children had the privilege of visiting a Slavic church near Denver. Back in October at the Denver Airport on our way to Salem, OH, we met several men from this church. After hearing them talking in Russian and seing one praying over his food,Jonathan had greeted them in Russian, and of course, they clustered around and we got just a bit acquainted before they had to leave for their flight. But we had asked them about their church, given them one of my new books, and now we finally had a chance to visit the church.

 

Inside we were welcomed and told that it was a "special service," i.e. the monthly communion service. I thought that most Slavic churches have communion the first Sunday of the month, which is one reason we picked this last Sunday of the month to go up. I knew communion services are extra long!

The church provides ear phones for guests who need someone to translate. So we were led up to about the fourth row of seats from the front, and then given 5 sets of ear phones. This church has a choir which filed in just before service.

There was a beautiful shiny black grand piano, and wonderful musicians, as well as singers. You can pretty much count on beautiful music at a Slavic church of any size. They sang with piano some, and some a capella. Two songs were familiar, including "Near the Cross," which was familiar enough that Jonathan and I were able to follow the Russian words on the screen and sing along. I was transported back to Kiev where we used to sing that song a lot in Ukraine, especially on communion Sundays. Carrie noticed the minor chords in most of the Russian songs. The two choir songs were beautiful.

But what brought tears to my eyes was when the congregation, after praying aloud together (they all lifted in prayer together rather than one praying while others were quiet as was typical in Ukraine) began to quote the Lord's prayer together in Russian. All of a sudden, I understood the words and was able pray along with most of it, if I could stop crying long enough. It was so precious to hear our dear brothers and sisters in Christ praying in our beloved (albeit difficult)  Russian language.

 

There were at least four or five men who spoke in some way up front, usually with prayer and a song in between. Hannah counted that we prayed nine times! The pulpit was over to the side, as usual, in Slavic churches. One leading man came back and let Jonathan know that if our hearts were ready, we could participate in the communion service.

 Anyway, then there was a final prayer, and I thought the service was over, but  then everyone sat down. There was more speaking, and more singing, and then there was another prayer, with everyone kneeling, facing forward instead of burying their heads in the chairs, just as they did in Ukraine. At one point there was a benediction, but then we sat down again. Then there was a long, long, long list of announcements. And then anyone who had greetings to share from other churches or people could do so. Then  final prayer. And then FINALLY, about 12:30, we were actually dismissed.

 The three children who went with us got a real taste of what a Russian-speaking service is like.

And I got a little taste of my beloved Russian-speaking brothers and sisters in Christ once again.

Pray with us for the safety, courage, and peace of our brothers and sisters in Christ in these Slavic nations.

Horses and Holiness--a Mother's Meditation

Yesterday Rose drove our van on our way home from taking supper in to Jonathan's dad. Since Rose and I were the only ones in the van, I decided to just ask a little about her life lately and how things have been going with her following her farrier friend around, working with horses. 

Horses is one of Rose's first loves. And next week she's starting an intensive 6 or 8 weeks of farrier school. Being a farrier means you take care of horses' hooves. (We won't discuss how much farrier school costs, but Rose has been industriously saving up for it.) She has to drive an hour and a half Mondays through Thursdays to attend. This means she has to have her own vehicle. 

Happily, about a week ago, she was able to purchase an old pickup that delighted her in many ways. Pretty teal color, running well, pristine condition on the inside--which looks good to a girl that has shared vehicles with working construction guys like her father and brother, and a big family van that gets trashed within a single trip to town, no matter how hard her mother tries to insist on gathering up the apple cores and orange peels and water bottles and boots and papers and books. 

But then three days after Rose purchased this old truck, someone who had been stopped behind an accident in the exit lane pulled into her lane on the interstate. Another vehicle was to the left of Rose, and there was nothing to do except brake and wait for impact, which happened very close to simultaneously. She and her truck are waiting on insurance issues right now since it was the other guy's fault and he has another insurance company than our good one. Wait, wait, wait. 

Meanwhile, I am seeing what is happening and thinking back to only a couple weeks beforehand when I had a prayer between me and the Lord. Trained in Bible college, and having a dad who insisted that every one of us nine children attend Bible College and prepare for full time Christian service, I can't completely erase that from my mind. How I would love for all seven of my children to attend Bible College and go into full time service for the Lord!

But guess what? Sam is in construction and volunteers as a fireman. Carrie loves to milk the cow and raise puppies and do anything but study at Bible College. And Rose is following her dream of working with horses and is starting into farrier school next week. 

Me? I'm going to my sunny bedroom window and laying a prayer out before the Lord: "Lord, if You don't want Rose to go to farrier school, would You close the door?"

And then she crunches her truck that would take her to farrier school! 

Yay, Lord! Closed door! Whoopie-pie, she will now realize she really needs to be in Bible College, right? 

I couldn't help remembering my prayer when Rose and Jonathan (who was directly ahead of her on the interstate that evening) told us about her accident. 

But Rose knows how to pray, too. She might not be going to Bible College, but she knows how to pray. Her truck was all messed up, and now she was praying pretty desperately. And just like that, we get a call from an old friend who is a truck driver and needs someone to keep his pickup running every little while. Could our family keep it out here and use it every once in a while? 

Rose was elated! This truck is even standard shift, her pride and joy! So the truck is out there waiting for its first trip to farrier school Monday. God answered Rose's prayer, and the door to farrier school stayed open.

And then today I flip our Charles Spurgeon daily calendar and am caught by the title, "Horses and High Priests."

"On that day HOLY TO THE LORD will be inscribed on the bells of the horses." Zech. 14:20 

The horse was an animal used for commerce," wrote Spurgeon. Yet the prophet foresees a day when the same insignia will be on the horse as appeared on the most sacred garments of the high priest. 

The time approaches when ordinary things shall be consecrated things. In Christ all things become new. Even now, I may perform my daily labors as to the Lord. My meals then become sacraments, my house a temple; my table an altar; my speech incense; and I myself, a priest."

"Yes, every pot in Jerusalem and Judah shall be holiness to the Lord of hosts," wrote the prophet.

Not just preachers, pastors, missionaries, evangelists, Sunday School teachers, and Christian school teachers will be holy; but every ordinary worker, every common housewife, and every child. 

Not only temples and churches and altars and sacraments will be holy, but even horses and homes, pets and pots, dishes and dogs.

"Your presence at this table makes of our home a holy place,

dear Lord, and all outdoors is the house of God." 

In His Time--After the Waiting and the January Mondays

Yesterday was another January Monday--but that is okay--

except that January is flying by awfully fast!

It's a quiet Tuesday now, with the whole family gone, some to work and some skiing with friends.

Jonathan and I just got back from a quick weekend trip to South Dakota to survey some mission projects, help on Saturday, and other things.

I got to spend Saturday helping in the office--typing and editing articles for the next Indian Vision paper (particularly articles focusing on the life of Frances Montour who, with her husband Raymond, founded SIM and passed away last year), and helping Alanna Lavery get their family newsletter ready to mail. At just age 16, Alanna is a huge help to her parents' ministry--operating the folding machine, the envelope addressing machine, and checking the addressed envelopes against a list.

I stuffed about 342 folded newsletters into envelopes and helped to seal them. 

(And secretly thought how very much I love to help in an office--anything having to do with writing, paper, letters, articles, books--and words!

Words!

This morning in my devotions, some words spoke to me. 

They weren't just my words or the words of a family member or friend or preacher or missionary.

They weren't a missionary newsletter or a sermon.

They were God's words. 

I was reading Psalm 75, and it said, "When I choose the proper time, I will judge uprightly."

"When I choose the proper time..." 

The proper time. 

The right time.

So much hinges on the right time.

At the right time, this Psalm tells us, God "is the Judge; He puts down one, and exalts another."

"For exaltation comes neither from the east nor from the west nor from the south."

The judgment, the putting down, and the exaltations all come from God--

in what He deems to be the proper and right time. 

It's likely to not be our time, since His ways are so different than ours. 

But it's in His time.

He will judge.

He will work out the things that need to be worked out. 

As I scrubbed the crockpot and milk pans and the rest of the huge stack of dishes this morning, I found myself starting to sing a tender chorus that came to me, inspired by the verses I'd just read.

  

I ended up sitting at the piano and playing it through as I sang it over again--not too well, you understand, since I can't play really well in the key of D.

There are exactly two sharps in that key, and that is way too many for my unmusical brain.

But there I sat, trying to get the sharps right while I tried to pay attention to the words.  

"In His time, in His time.

He makes all things beautiful in His time.

Lord, please show me every day 

As You're teaching me Your way,

That You do just what You say

In Your time.

In Your time, in Your time, 

You make all things beautiful in Your time.

Lord, my life to You I bring;

May each song I have to sing

Be to You a lovely thing

In Your time!"

 

Our times of waiting, of boredom,

of failures,

of struggles,

of wilderness or dryness--

these times are not in vain.

They are not necessarily fruitless.

In these tough times God is teaching His children lessons--

lessons of faith, patience, trust, 

of letting go and relinquishing control,

of being brought down so that He and not we receive the glory. 

In His time--after all the wilderness wandering,

after all the January Mondays,

and after all the hours, days, months, and years of waiting,

God will judge,

bring down,

and lift up.

In His time!