***********Fear and Future cliffnotes available at page bottom*******************
It was supposed to be one of the conversations that would bring clarity. One that would bring focus, and confirmation, but when it ended, I was left with more questions that when we begun. More questions, and yet small, growing excitement at the potential.
When God first called me to follow Him, I resisted. I didn't resist His salvation. I didn't resist the cross, that is a free gift given to all who will take it. What I resisted was His call for discipleship. The "deny yourself, take up your cross and follow me." That's the part I didn't like. Though salvation is free, discipleship costs, and I knew that. So when God called me to follow Him, I was reluctant. In my argument with God, after I had exhausted my final reason, He trumped them all when He said to me "Micah, I'm going to do something, and you can be a part of it or not. You decide." So then and there, nearly 10 years ago, I laid down my hopes and dreams to follow Him, wherever He led. And in that moment I accepted the privilege to participate in 'something' greater than myself, 'something' of lasting significance; all the while, not knowing exactly that that 'something' would be.
So here we sit ten years later, still trying to clearly define what the 'something,' is. What that 'something' looks like in a practical way. "Please God, what is it that you want us to do? Why have you placed us here? Why have you given us these passions and abilities? What is it that you want us to do with them? Why have you allowed us to see such needs." Each question forming a piece of the puzzle of that when put together will show the will of God. But unlike most puzzles, there is no front of the box to look at, no pre-filled life resume to follow. Just the darkness of the unknown and God.
As we have been asking you pray about the generality of our future, I want to detail a little bit of the specifics of these pieces.
First is the piece of passions and abilities:
Marla and I share a deep desire for mentoring and discipleship. Although the preferred age groups are different, we both like to teach. She likes working with the children, and I like working with people a little older. We also have passions and/or abilities in hospitality, contribution, the development of ideas and strategies. We also like sports and the out of doors.
The second piece of this puzzle has to do with perceived needs here where we are. On the local level, our church is growing and expanding. Marla and I have had the honor of helping to develop future leaders, and starting some new ministries. As the church grows and becomes more and more established, we would love to stay where we are, lending a hand where needed as we have been doing these past two years. On a national level, the denomination that our local church is a part of has been undergoing major revitalization. We have a strong leader with a clear vision, and much work to do to accomplish that vision. The name of the denomination is "Missionary Church," and as of yet, have not sent one missionary to another country. In my experience there is little of a mission mindset in the general population of these churches. This needs to change. The denomination, that is around 50 years old, is a healthy denomination. But one sign of health is reproduction, and as of yet has not reproduced, or even had much of a desire to reproduce what was done here in another country. I look around me and see a generation of potential missionaries. Missionaries that could have great impact on the planet, they just need to be woken up.
I also see great need within OMS Brazil in the next 3 to 5 years. In 2 years the current field leader will retire. The next missionary family in terms of seniority is returning on furlough with uncertain plans of their return. What this means in terms of field leadership and direction, and how it relates specifically to us, I don't know...but the need isn't hard to see.
Combined with these other two pieces are the counsel of friends and supervisors, the prayers of you all, and the peace of God. Hopefully we'll be able to present a clear vision of what we'll be doing in Brazil when we are in the states this spring for furlough. (by the way if you’d like to have us visit you, your church, small group, friends…and share about Brazil, let us know…) But I won't lie, there is fear in the unknown. There is the part of us that screams for the security. A safer plan that doesn't have so many "what if's." A plan where we would know where Samara would grow up. A plan that would know if we were to paint a wall today like we want to that we'd be able to enjoy it for years to come. A plan where we'd finally be able to unpack all of our boxes...for good. But I don't know if that is what God has for us. But I know where He has brought us. And I know 'how' He has brought us. Though it has not been easy, He has brought us to a good place. And we have to trust, in a very practical way, that His plans are for our good. To give a hope and a future.
I see our empty suitcases sitting in our storage room almost every day. They serve as an ominous reminder that where we are is only temporary. That one day, very soon, we'll be traveling again. We'll be packing up our things in boxes and filling our suitcases. We'll be living from a car and from the houses of our parents. We'll be without our own space or routine heading into a future that is uncertain. A future who's plans are based on perceptions and speculations. And I guess fear will always surround uncertainty. But it is what we do with this fear that will mark our lives. I was reading a book recently that was dealing with this issue of fear. It used the example of a little girl learning to swim. On the side of the pool, with her toes over the edge stands a little girl trying to decide what she is going to do. Her father is in the pool with open arms waiting to catch her. She knows he is there, but can he be trusted. Surely there will be water that goes up her nose. Surely the water will be cold, and what if he looses his grip on her. The decision that she makes standing on the edge of the pool has consequences. If she jumps, she'll find that her father can be trusted. She'll find the water is cold, but not too cold. And the next times she finds herself on the edge of a pool, she is more likely to jump. If she backs away now, and lets her fear dominate her, the next time she is at the edge of a pool, she is more likely to once again be dominated by that same fear. The decision has consequences both ways.
For those of you who knew me growing up, you know I rarely let my fear keep me from jumping into any body of water (not necessarily a good thing). But as I have gotten older, it gets harder to make such decisions. When I got married, I was no longer living just for myself, I had my wife to consider. And now that I'm a father, I have my family and their security to think about. But I cannot loose that edge. God did not create me to be dominated or ruled by fear. As God was with me when I was single, so He is with us now. As He provided for me then, so He will provide for us in the uncertainty of the future. I have to fight to keep fear from having a foothold.
There is one fear, however, I never hope to loose. A fear that has served as a motivation for me for the last 10 years. It is the fear in the knowledge that one day I will have to give account for what I have done with what was entrusted to me. One day God will ask me what I have done for Him with what he has given me. And in that day, packing boxes and interest rates won't mean a thing. I want to be found faithful. I want to hear Him say "well done."
As far as prayer requests…. Between writing the previous paragraph and this paragraph, I jumped on-line to check how Marla’s application process was going on her permanent visa. After typing in the necessary protocol numbers we found that her visa had been denied. Hmmmm, now what? After checking, and re-checking that what saw was right, we drove down to the federal police to ask them what we could do. They said we could pay a big fee and contest the denial, or we could start again, and this time apply for permanency for Marla on the basis of Samara being a Brazilian (and Marla being her mom). They also said that these type of visas should be pretty much automatic, but it still means waiting another 4-6 (based on our previous experiences) for the visa to be processed and approved. So that may back up our original plans of being in the States mid-April. Anyway prayer for this process would be appreciated. We would also ask for prayer for the arranging of all the details while we are in the States, as well as wisdom on how to arrange for our absence from Brazil. This includes everything from packing, housing rental agreements, to preparing the ministries we are involved in to function without our presence.
We are trusting God for His timing and guidance and thanking you for your prayers and involvement in our lives and this ministry.
in Him, for Him
Micah and Marla
Ps. The first picture is of me leading a bible study group that we have on Saturday nights. The second picture is of Marla teaching in one of the Sunday school classes, and the third is a picture we had thought to send out as a Christmas card…better late than never
***********Fear and Future Cliffnotes*************************************
This email followed our last few months quest to find out what God wants us to do in terms of a long-term future. We had thought we were nearing an answer when a couple of conversations opened our eyes to a reality and a need we hadn’t previously seen. Instead of focusing down, we got a bigger perspective. It’s kind of exciting, and yet kind of scary at the same time. The rest of this email was a commentary on how we handle fear. The decisions we make when faced with a difficult situation have consequences. If we raise to the challenge, the next time we are challenged we are more likely to raise yet again. But if we shrink back because of fear, fear can get a foothold, and dominate our future decisions. Our prayer requests our more for our future. Marla’s permanent visa, our furlough plans, and wrapping up things here. Thanks for your prayers and support
********************************************************************
Friday, February 27, 2009
Nov. 21, 2007 - Thankfulness Unplanned
**************"Cliffnotes" check at page bottom*************************************************
As I watched the policeman follow the stretcher through the emergency room, I thought to myself in retrospect, I never had really pictured myself in this situation. Yet there we were awaiting the results of the exam.
The week had started pretty normal, as any other. I was busy about the work of the church, and Marla had her hands full with Samara, and arranging our upcoming travels to Sao Paulo. We had been putting off the visit to the nearest US Consulate since Samara was born. We knew we needed to go register her as an American, and apply for a passport and social security card for some time, but the very thought of such a hurried trip to the world's second or third biggest city with a baby, made it easy for other things, to become priority. But finally the plans had been made. The appointment had been set up, the bus tickets purchased, and a cash advance given to cover all the consular fees. We were to leave on Monday night at 11:40pm, travel through the night, arrive in Sao Paulo at 5:45am the next morning, take a taxi to the US Consulate, have our appointment at 9:30am, go back to the bus station to meet some friends for lunch then finish off back at the bus station to meet our 7pm bus that would bring us back to Londrina. That Friday night Samara woke up with a fever. This being her first sickness of any kind, we were a little nervous. So at 4am (our time), we called one of our good friends in the states who works as a nurse at a medical hotline. She put our minds to rest and we went back to sleep. The next day (Saturday) Samara's fever was higher, but we kept it under control with some infant Tylonal. Sunday, her fever went even higher and she was more sluggish, and lost her appitite. Sunday night we resolved to take her to her pediatritian to get his advise on our upcoming lightning trip to Sao Paulo. Monday morning Samara's fever had broken, but Marla took her to the doctor anyway, just to get his opinion. He said she was fine and that we should go ahead with our travel plans, so we started to get ready. Monday afternoon the fever returned but only for a few hours. We went to the bus station like normal, got checked in, and boarded, all with her asleep in her car seat next to Marla. She had a rough night waking up screaming every couple of hours, which in turn woke up everybody else on the bus every couple of hours, but what do you expect, it's a night on the bus right. Everything went according to schedual when we got to Sao Paulo. We got off the bus, took a taxi to the consulate. Arrived earily enough to pick up breakfast at a little place across the street, had our meeting, and by 10:30, had all of our applications submitted, and were walking out....mission accomplished. We were feeling pretty good about ourselves on a bright sunny day, and had an hour to spare before we needed to make the 30 minute trip back to the bus station to meet our friends. In the taxi we had passed a nice looking mall, so decided to return there to kill the hour. Being a city holiday, the stores in the mall were set to open at noon. The very time we had marked to meet our friends. So for the next hour we strolled through the mostly empty mall and wished we could stay a little longer to take of advantage of American stores such as Applebee's and Starbucks, (which we hadn't seen since leaving the United States over a year ago.) But a promise is a promise, so we left the mall, and took the subway to return back to the bus station.
Like planned we met our friends, being a little late because we had never taken the subway in Sao Paulo, and it took longer than we thought. We got caught up over a fast food meal in the bus station before going with them to a different mall, that was on their way home. All during this time Samara was extra fussy, and we were not able to comfort her. It was then that we began to notice a rash that was starting on Samara's face. We'd been told that a rash often follows a fever and not to worry so we continued with our friends. Because of a church comittment they had made much earlier, our friends Marcus and Julianna could only hang out a couple hours, but it was great to see how they were doing. Because most of everything else in the city was closed due to the holiday, the mall was packed to such a point that navigating our stroller through the crowd became pretty difficult. It was there that Samara started to scream. And I'm not talking cry, but scream. She would not be consold, she would not calm down. So after about half an hour, we found a babychanging room, where Marla was able to calm her down give her some pain medicine and eventually put her to sleep in her stroller. We had just a few minutes left to be with our friends before we walked them back the the Mall exit closest to the subway stop, and hugged them goodbye. About 5 minutes later, Samara woke up again screaming and wrything. We tried a quiet dark hall, just to get her calmed down, but to no avail. After another 20 minutes we desicded to look for a pharmacy in the mall. After the security guard told us the phamacy was on the ground floor we broke the big mall "no-no" and took the stroller down 2 escalators, to arrive at where we thought Samara would find relief. The pharmasist was very helpful and very concerned, and Samara was growing more and more agitated. Her rash had spread over her body. They called a nearby doctor's office, only to find it closed because of the holiday. They told us the name of a hospital and suggested that we leave immediatly. Now in my mind I'm thinking: babies cry right? Granted Samara doesn't scream that much, but she'll calm down right? And the rash is weird, but our bus leaves in 3 hours and we need to be on it. After one deeply worried look from Marla I said, "what was the name of the hospital again?" A fellow customer, Marine, said "I'll go with you if you want." Marla shot me another look, the kind that said "she's a complete stranger, this is a big city, we'll be fine." As the pharmasist walked us to the nearest taxi, I looked infront of us, and saw that lady from the phamacy and thought "I have no idea what I'm doing, I'm not even from here, and we'll need all the help that we can get." So I yelled to her, and she hopped in the front seat.
Marina paid the taxi as he dropt us off at the emergency exit. The hospital attendant told us we'd have to enter from the other side of the hospital, but viewing the condition of Samara, ushered her and Marla right in, as Marina and I went to the main entrance. When we entered, Marla was already there giving the clerk some of Samara's infomation. When the asked for local contact information, Marina gave hers. Screaming the way she was, Samara went right to the front of most lines, and with in 30 minutes of being in the pharmacy, she was in front of a very good pediatrician. Marla and our new friend Marina were with her, as we all couldn't go, and I wouldn't be as much of a help a Marina could be. After a few minutes, the four left the examining room, with a request for 3 tests. One blood, one urine, and one for Rubela. Once a fever had been ruled out, all the nurses seemed to pay no mind to the screaming infant in front of them. That's when Marina really stepped in. I'm not sure what she said, but what ever it was, we were moving once again. By 5:30pm we were standing at the door where they take blood tests. The room was small, and there were seats for people to wait for the results of their tests in the larger room in front, which just happened to be the emergancy room where the ambulances were bringing injured people from all over. As I stood talking with Marina, I looked in and saw that they had just tried to get a blood sample from Samara but had missed, she was screaming and flailing, and her blood was all over. That was the last straw for Marla, in tears she left the room and said "Micah they want me to hold her down, and I just can't, I just can't." So in I went, looked our screaming little girl in the eye as I pinned her shoulders to the examining table so they could take her blood. The blood was drawn, the bandaid put on, and there we were on those seats in the emergancy room awaiting the result that were supposed to come by 8:30pm (an hour and a half after our bus was to have left for Londrina). Marina took the paper so that she could get the rhubella test that would be available in 10 days. We exhanged e-mail addresses, hugs, and with that our Sao Paulo angel left the hospital.
So there the three of us quietly sat. In the emergancy room of a hospital I never even knew the name of. In a neigborhood, I don't think I could ever get back to if I had to, once again alone in one of the world's biggest city, knowing that we'd miss our bus home. We were physically exausted from the previous night's bus ride. Emotionally spent from the previous 4 hours. Yet I tell you the truth, the longer we sat there, the more we realized how truely small our problem was and the more thankful we became.
The first guy they wheeled in, the guy that was followed in by the police officer, already had a bandage on his ankel. From what I gathered he had no documentation with his motorcycle when he wrecked it and was looking at loosing his motorcycle and a pretty massive fine. He was more angry than hurt. He hobbled off the bed with the help his family. The next that came through the doors, came through being carried in the big arms of who I imagined was her husband. She was sobbing grasping at her leg as he layed her down on the stretcher before checking in with the attendant. The nurses that entered just walked around her talking between themselves seeminly unaware of her existence. The next guy that walked in was dressed as if he was a butcher. His clothes looked as if he had come off of a motorcycle and his left hand was covered by a bloody rag. As I was talking with the guy about getting Samara's blood test results a police "special unit" vehicle backe up to the two big doors. In the back a dead kid. One police officer grabbed his hands, one his legs, and without a stretcher they carried him through the room, down the hall. I had not seen it, but when I left the room, Marla's hand was over her mouth, and there was a trail of blood from the back of the vehicle down the hall. About that time a nurse told us a more quiet place would be better for Samara to wait for the test result. So after walking a bit through the hospital we found a dark quite hall. Unlike what we've found in the states, people are allowed in much of the hospital, and there are waiting rooms for different departments sprinkled all over. We sat in some seats, in that dark hall and just exhaled. After about 20 minutes, a young guy wheeled what was probably his sister or his girlfriend in a wheelchair into the room next to where we were sitting. From the way it looked, we guessed the young lady was anorexic. He left her in the room with the doctor and sat just a few seats down from us. His shoulders sank as he sat, and his head fell into his hands, the strength that he had been showing just a few minutes earlier obviously exausted. With his fingers in his corn rowes he just sat there thinking, just a few seats down from me. I had just turned off my mp3 player and was gathing my courage so that I could ask him if I could pray from him when Samara woke up and started craying again. Then the mt arrived and began talking with him, and I kicked myself for the missed opportunity. On our way back to get the blood results we passed a hallway that was completely crowded, and one lady, about 50 years, old crying unconsolably by herself. And I thought to myself, that I had not seen so much emotional brokeness since the revival meetings when I was a kid, but unlike those meetings, there was no one here to comfort. It was like the Bible stories that you hear. People sick, or dying who fall at Jesus's feet. People are still sick, people are still dying. What a ministry one could have at a hospital so filled with brokeness.
After not being able to obtain a urine sample because Samara had been eating and drinking so little, (combined with an incompitent nurse who was assigned to extract the sample from Samara, only to strip her and prep her, then leave the room for several minutes only to return to find she had gone pee in his absence and the only urine that she had let go since 6 in the morning was now dripping down the bed)...lets see, where was I. Oh yeah, we left the hospital at 8:00pm with the results of Samara's blood test in hand. The pediatrician who first attended us had left, so we just took the results with us and hurried down the dark empty streets towards the subway station, Marla carring our sleeping baby, and I carrying everything else. We used our last two subway tickets, and entered the train. We had about 25 minutes to reherse what we would say to the bus company begging them to let us on any bus heading to Londrina that night, before arriving at the main city bus station. We got off the train and went directly to the Garcia Bus Company counter. We began our story, the clerk looked at our tickets, and said they had a bus leaving for Londrina in 5 minutes, and to go talk to the driver. We ran through that station, picked up some bags we had locked for the day in some security lockers, and made it down there in time. When we entered the bus, we were 3 of 5 people on board a bus designed to carry 50. We had three seats next to eachother. I guess the bus made some other stops to pick up some other people, but to be honest, I don't really remember. After our first stop, I closed my eyes and I was out for the count.
We arrived 5:10am the following morning, just 3 hours later than originally schedualed. We went home and prompty fell asleep. That day (Wednessday) we went back to our pediatritian, showed him the blood test results, and he told us not to worry. The temperature, the rash, was all probably roseola, which we had guessed. The irritability and screaming he didn't know. But Samara was better, and even now continues to improve. From the best that we can guess, we think that her loss of appitite put less food in her stomach. Then when we gave her some pain medicine, it really upset her stomach. She was far from home, and far from much of the things that normally give her comfort. She was also surrounded by so many new noises and sounds, and movement, she just went into overload mode, and tried to shut it out the only way babies know how to shut it out...screaming. Wow, how glad we were to be home. After we got back from the doctor we all took another nap, and in truth are still recoving even today. We are so thankful. Thankful that Samara will be fine and that we really are so healthy. Thanful for Marina!!! Thankful for the daily prayers of you guys and many others, Thankful to be home and be together. Thankful to our heavenly Father for his care for us. And thankful to be heading to sleep in a BED!We love you guys and we are SO thankful for you. We just wanted to update you on the last few days.
in Him, for Him,
Micah and Marla and Samara
**************"Cliffnotes" Thankfulness Unplanned*******************************************************
Not all adventures we take in life are pleasant ones. This email relayed what happened in an emergancy room in Sao Paulo, and what happened to bring us there.
1. We had planned a trip to Sao Paulo to get Samara's Passport, Social Security card and American Birth Certificate
2. Samara got a fever before we left
3. We checked with our doctor and went anyway
4. She got considerably worse in Sao Paulo, for unknown reasons
5. We ended up going to a hospital, accompanied by a lady we had never met before, seeing things we had only seen on tv
6. We got home ok, and Samara is getting better, and we are still recoving.
*********************************************************************************************************
As I watched the policeman follow the stretcher through the emergency room, I thought to myself in retrospect, I never had really pictured myself in this situation. Yet there we were awaiting the results of the exam.
The week had started pretty normal, as any other. I was busy about the work of the church, and Marla had her hands full with Samara, and arranging our upcoming travels to Sao Paulo. We had been putting off the visit to the nearest US Consulate since Samara was born. We knew we needed to go register her as an American, and apply for a passport and social security card for some time, but the very thought of such a hurried trip to the world's second or third biggest city with a baby, made it easy for other things, to become priority. But finally the plans had been made. The appointment had been set up, the bus tickets purchased, and a cash advance given to cover all the consular fees. We were to leave on Monday night at 11:40pm, travel through the night, arrive in Sao Paulo at 5:45am the next morning, take a taxi to the US Consulate, have our appointment at 9:30am, go back to the bus station to meet some friends for lunch then finish off back at the bus station to meet our 7pm bus that would bring us back to Londrina. That Friday night Samara woke up with a fever. This being her first sickness of any kind, we were a little nervous. So at 4am (our time), we called one of our good friends in the states who works as a nurse at a medical hotline. She put our minds to rest and we went back to sleep. The next day (Saturday) Samara's fever was higher, but we kept it under control with some infant Tylonal. Sunday, her fever went even higher and she was more sluggish, and lost her appitite. Sunday night we resolved to take her to her pediatritian to get his advise on our upcoming lightning trip to Sao Paulo. Monday morning Samara's fever had broken, but Marla took her to the doctor anyway, just to get his opinion. He said she was fine and that we should go ahead with our travel plans, so we started to get ready. Monday afternoon the fever returned but only for a few hours. We went to the bus station like normal, got checked in, and boarded, all with her asleep in her car seat next to Marla. She had a rough night waking up screaming every couple of hours, which in turn woke up everybody else on the bus every couple of hours, but what do you expect, it's a night on the bus right. Everything went according to schedual when we got to Sao Paulo. We got off the bus, took a taxi to the consulate. Arrived earily enough to pick up breakfast at a little place across the street, had our meeting, and by 10:30, had all of our applications submitted, and were walking out....mission accomplished. We were feeling pretty good about ourselves on a bright sunny day, and had an hour to spare before we needed to make the 30 minute trip back to the bus station to meet our friends. In the taxi we had passed a nice looking mall, so decided to return there to kill the hour. Being a city holiday, the stores in the mall were set to open at noon. The very time we had marked to meet our friends. So for the next hour we strolled through the mostly empty mall and wished we could stay a little longer to take of advantage of American stores such as Applebee's and Starbucks, (which we hadn't seen since leaving the United States over a year ago.) But a promise is a promise, so we left the mall, and took the subway to return back to the bus station.
Like planned we met our friends, being a little late because we had never taken the subway in Sao Paulo, and it took longer than we thought. We got caught up over a fast food meal in the bus station before going with them to a different mall, that was on their way home. All during this time Samara was extra fussy, and we were not able to comfort her. It was then that we began to notice a rash that was starting on Samara's face. We'd been told that a rash often follows a fever and not to worry so we continued with our friends. Because of a church comittment they had made much earlier, our friends Marcus and Julianna could only hang out a couple hours, but it was great to see how they were doing. Because most of everything else in the city was closed due to the holiday, the mall was packed to such a point that navigating our stroller through the crowd became pretty difficult. It was there that Samara started to scream. And I'm not talking cry, but scream. She would not be consold, she would not calm down. So after about half an hour, we found a babychanging room, where Marla was able to calm her down give her some pain medicine and eventually put her to sleep in her stroller. We had just a few minutes left to be with our friends before we walked them back the the Mall exit closest to the subway stop, and hugged them goodbye. About 5 minutes later, Samara woke up again screaming and wrything. We tried a quiet dark hall, just to get her calmed down, but to no avail. After another 20 minutes we desicded to look for a pharmacy in the mall. After the security guard told us the phamacy was on the ground floor we broke the big mall "no-no" and took the stroller down 2 escalators, to arrive at where we thought Samara would find relief. The pharmasist was very helpful and very concerned, and Samara was growing more and more agitated. Her rash had spread over her body. They called a nearby doctor's office, only to find it closed because of the holiday. They told us the name of a hospital and suggested that we leave immediatly. Now in my mind I'm thinking: babies cry right? Granted Samara doesn't scream that much, but she'll calm down right? And the rash is weird, but our bus leaves in 3 hours and we need to be on it. After one deeply worried look from Marla I said, "what was the name of the hospital again?" A fellow customer, Marine, said "I'll go with you if you want." Marla shot me another look, the kind that said "she's a complete stranger, this is a big city, we'll be fine." As the pharmasist walked us to the nearest taxi, I looked infront of us, and saw that lady from the phamacy and thought "I have no idea what I'm doing, I'm not even from here, and we'll need all the help that we can get." So I yelled to her, and she hopped in the front seat.
Marina paid the taxi as he dropt us off at the emergency exit. The hospital attendant told us we'd have to enter from the other side of the hospital, but viewing the condition of Samara, ushered her and Marla right in, as Marina and I went to the main entrance. When we entered, Marla was already there giving the clerk some of Samara's infomation. When the asked for local contact information, Marina gave hers. Screaming the way she was, Samara went right to the front of most lines, and with in 30 minutes of being in the pharmacy, she was in front of a very good pediatrician. Marla and our new friend Marina were with her, as we all couldn't go, and I wouldn't be as much of a help a Marina could be. After a few minutes, the four left the examining room, with a request for 3 tests. One blood, one urine, and one for Rubela. Once a fever had been ruled out, all the nurses seemed to pay no mind to the screaming infant in front of them. That's when Marina really stepped in. I'm not sure what she said, but what ever it was, we were moving once again. By 5:30pm we were standing at the door where they take blood tests. The room was small, and there were seats for people to wait for the results of their tests in the larger room in front, which just happened to be the emergancy room where the ambulances were bringing injured people from all over. As I stood talking with Marina, I looked in and saw that they had just tried to get a blood sample from Samara but had missed, she was screaming and flailing, and her blood was all over. That was the last straw for Marla, in tears she left the room and said "Micah they want me to hold her down, and I just can't, I just can't." So in I went, looked our screaming little girl in the eye as I pinned her shoulders to the examining table so they could take her blood. The blood was drawn, the bandaid put on, and there we were on those seats in the emergancy room awaiting the result that were supposed to come by 8:30pm (an hour and a half after our bus was to have left for Londrina). Marina took the paper so that she could get the rhubella test that would be available in 10 days. We exhanged e-mail addresses, hugs, and with that our Sao Paulo angel left the hospital.
So there the three of us quietly sat. In the emergancy room of a hospital I never even knew the name of. In a neigborhood, I don't think I could ever get back to if I had to, once again alone in one of the world's biggest city, knowing that we'd miss our bus home. We were physically exausted from the previous night's bus ride. Emotionally spent from the previous 4 hours. Yet I tell you the truth, the longer we sat there, the more we realized how truely small our problem was and the more thankful we became.
The first guy they wheeled in, the guy that was followed in by the police officer, already had a bandage on his ankel. From what I gathered he had no documentation with his motorcycle when he wrecked it and was looking at loosing his motorcycle and a pretty massive fine. He was more angry than hurt. He hobbled off the bed with the help his family. The next that came through the doors, came through being carried in the big arms of who I imagined was her husband. She was sobbing grasping at her leg as he layed her down on the stretcher before checking in with the attendant. The nurses that entered just walked around her talking between themselves seeminly unaware of her existence. The next guy that walked in was dressed as if he was a butcher. His clothes looked as if he had come off of a motorcycle and his left hand was covered by a bloody rag. As I was talking with the guy about getting Samara's blood test results a police "special unit" vehicle backe up to the two big doors. In the back a dead kid. One police officer grabbed his hands, one his legs, and without a stretcher they carried him through the room, down the hall. I had not seen it, but when I left the room, Marla's hand was over her mouth, and there was a trail of blood from the back of the vehicle down the hall. About that time a nurse told us a more quiet place would be better for Samara to wait for the test result. So after walking a bit through the hospital we found a dark quite hall. Unlike what we've found in the states, people are allowed in much of the hospital, and there are waiting rooms for different departments sprinkled all over. We sat in some seats, in that dark hall and just exhaled. After about 20 minutes, a young guy wheeled what was probably his sister or his girlfriend in a wheelchair into the room next to where we were sitting. From the way it looked, we guessed the young lady was anorexic. He left her in the room with the doctor and sat just a few seats down from us. His shoulders sank as he sat, and his head fell into his hands, the strength that he had been showing just a few minutes earlier obviously exausted. With his fingers in his corn rowes he just sat there thinking, just a few seats down from me. I had just turned off my mp3 player and was gathing my courage so that I could ask him if I could pray from him when Samara woke up and started craying again. Then the mt arrived and began talking with him, and I kicked myself for the missed opportunity. On our way back to get the blood results we passed a hallway that was completely crowded, and one lady, about 50 years, old crying unconsolably by herself. And I thought to myself, that I had not seen so much emotional brokeness since the revival meetings when I was a kid, but unlike those meetings, there was no one here to comfort. It was like the Bible stories that you hear. People sick, or dying who fall at Jesus's feet. People are still sick, people are still dying. What a ministry one could have at a hospital so filled with brokeness.
After not being able to obtain a urine sample because Samara had been eating and drinking so little, (combined with an incompitent nurse who was assigned to extract the sample from Samara, only to strip her and prep her, then leave the room for several minutes only to return to find she had gone pee in his absence and the only urine that she had let go since 6 in the morning was now dripping down the bed)...lets see, where was I. Oh yeah, we left the hospital at 8:00pm with the results of Samara's blood test in hand. The pediatrician who first attended us had left, so we just took the results with us and hurried down the dark empty streets towards the subway station, Marla carring our sleeping baby, and I carrying everything else. We used our last two subway tickets, and entered the train. We had about 25 minutes to reherse what we would say to the bus company begging them to let us on any bus heading to Londrina that night, before arriving at the main city bus station. We got off the train and went directly to the Garcia Bus Company counter. We began our story, the clerk looked at our tickets, and said they had a bus leaving for Londrina in 5 minutes, and to go talk to the driver. We ran through that station, picked up some bags we had locked for the day in some security lockers, and made it down there in time. When we entered the bus, we were 3 of 5 people on board a bus designed to carry 50. We had three seats next to eachother. I guess the bus made some other stops to pick up some other people, but to be honest, I don't really remember. After our first stop, I closed my eyes and I was out for the count.
We arrived 5:10am the following morning, just 3 hours later than originally schedualed. We went home and prompty fell asleep. That day (Wednessday) we went back to our pediatritian, showed him the blood test results, and he told us not to worry. The temperature, the rash, was all probably roseola, which we had guessed. The irritability and screaming he didn't know. But Samara was better, and even now continues to improve. From the best that we can guess, we think that her loss of appitite put less food in her stomach. Then when we gave her some pain medicine, it really upset her stomach. She was far from home, and far from much of the things that normally give her comfort. She was also surrounded by so many new noises and sounds, and movement, she just went into overload mode, and tried to shut it out the only way babies know how to shut it out...screaming. Wow, how glad we were to be home. After we got back from the doctor we all took another nap, and in truth are still recoving even today. We are so thankful. Thankful that Samara will be fine and that we really are so healthy. Thanful for Marina!!! Thankful for the daily prayers of you guys and many others, Thankful to be home and be together. Thankful to our heavenly Father for his care for us. And thankful to be heading to sleep in a BED!We love you guys and we are SO thankful for you. We just wanted to update you on the last few days.
in Him, for Him,
Micah and Marla and Samara
**************"Cliffnotes" Thankfulness Unplanned*******************************************************
Not all adventures we take in life are pleasant ones. This email relayed what happened in an emergancy room in Sao Paulo, and what happened to bring us there.
1. We had planned a trip to Sao Paulo to get Samara's Passport, Social Security card and American Birth Certificate
2. Samara got a fever before we left
3. We checked with our doctor and went anyway
4. She got considerably worse in Sao Paulo, for unknown reasons
5. We ended up going to a hospital, accompanied by a lady we had never met before, seeing things we had only seen on tv
6. We got home ok, and Samara is getting better, and we are still recoving.
*********************************************************************************************************
Oct. 10, 2007 - October Update
**********No Cliffnotes, Marla writting a news update******************
Unlike many of the emails that we send your directions, we wanted to give some updates and information on some of the things that we have asked you to pray about.
Our first prayer request was for our future. We asked prayer, not just for our immediate future but long term. After much prayer, and giving up some of our own hopes and dreams, we feel very strongly that we are to stay here in Brazil. I have never felt so fulfilled in what I've done as I do here. From everything to helping our pastor with the leadership of the church, to discipleship groups, to reformatting the Sunday school program, God has blessed and grown the things that we have had the privilege to be involved in. Though it's hard to look far into the future and not see things like family camping trips on the weekends or watching our kids play in highschool basketball games, we rest in the confidence that God has gotta have something great for us down here too.
Second, Marla had asked for her friend Linda. And since this is Marla's thing, I'll let her write
Hey everybody, Marla here...
I'd written a while back about my new friend Linda. Just as a recap we met last year at the local health clinic and occasionally would see one another on the street and chat for a few minutes. Then we moved to a new house, had a baby and she came by to see us and after visiting each other a few times we decided to
walk together two mornings a week and we've been doing that since April. Linda is from Sweeden and married to a Brazilian guy. She has had a difficult life
having a mother who's been an alcoholic Linda's entire life, and growing up in foster care since about age 7. As a young teenager Linda went to church with a friend for awhile, but her foster mother got to where she would not allow it and Linda didn't like having to sneak out and fight with her foster mother about church so she quit going. So anyway over the last several months we've become better friends. We'd talk about everything under the sun, and many times our converstaions would move in the direction of spiritual things.
Linda has a deep hunger for peace in her life and a lot of questions about the Bible and God and Cristianity. So we'd talk and several times I prayed with her about specific situations or struggles she was going through. I invited her to church the Sunday Micah's parents gave their testimony (end of July) and she came. And she has been coming to church with me every Sunday since! I was able to give her a Bible in english (which she speaks fluently) and also invited her to a special afternoon time we had with some women from church where we made scripture journals. She told me the last time we walked that she's been getting up 1/2 and hour early in the mornings to read her Bible and write notes, thougths, verses or prayers in her journal. I am praising God that she is responding to Him. One Sunday that we'd had communion at church she kinda looked at me and wasn't sure if she was supposed to take it or not. After the service we were talking about it and about what it means to have Jesus as your personal savior and we read Romans 10:9 together and talked about how you accept the free gift of salvation by confessing and believing. And I said something about praying and asking Jesus into your heart to be Lord of your life. She was like "Marla, I think I did that when I was 13...does it still count?"
God is moving in Linda's life and her heart. And I praise Him for her friendship and for the ways he's using Linda to challenge me in my personal spiritual walk. I thank you for your prayers for her and ask that you please don't forget this woman. She has a lot of hurt and mistrust and fear in her heart and I ask you to join me in praying for her to continue to respond to God and to surrender her life completely to Him, and allow Him to heal and rebuild and give new life. Also for her Husband who at this time has no interest at all in God. And for her little boy Adriano who is coming to church with her each week. That seeds of faith will be planted in his young heart.
Third we had asked prayer for our support account. We hadn't given many details other than falling value of the dollar and increased finacial need because of Samara. A long time ago, before we even came to Brazil, I promised to write with openness and clarity. The purpose of this was not just so that I could journal what was going on, but to give you a better picture of the things we face, and to give you a better picture of what being a missionary is like. We have remained committed to sharing both the highs and the lows of this road. But when dealing with things like money, we have kept it vague, because money can be a sticky subject. But about a week ago, I felt a bit convicted that I hadn't really been completely open with you all. So with a recommitment to openess and honesty, I'll fill you all in. When we arrived in Brazil about a year ago, we had a pretty good black balance in our missionary support account (about $12,000). For the first 3 or 4 months the incoming $ matched, more or less what was being expended, so our support account stayed more or less the same. Then about that time we got an email from our headquarter office. We had been opting out of a lot of benifits that OMS requires of the career missionaries. We had been doing this to protect that black balance. But about 8 or 9 months ago, OMS headquarters said, you guys have been with the mission for 6 years already, and are signed on for at least 2 more, so you can no longer opt out of the benifits (retirement). So our monthly expenses went up about $600/ month. Then we got some emails from some of our most faithful supporters, who's finanicial situations had changed because of loss of a job, or switching jobs, or living on a fixed income, who physically could no longer support us finaicially on the level that they had been. Then the amount of rent that we pay was increased pretty substantially. The combined result of all of these things was about $1,200 more was going out monthly than what was coming in. About 5 or six months ago, when this really started to become apparent, we committed ourselves to prayer. We didn't want to just see the need, and jump on-line without seeking God. So we have been praying every since. Marla and I wrote into headquarters and took a voluntary salary reduction of about $350 / month, to help keep us in the black, but even with the salary reduction, our black balance is being reduced by about $900-$1,100 per month. As of the end of last month our black balance had been reduced to about $6,800.
Every month we receive a report, emailed to us, detailing incoming funds and from who they came. Every month we read over that list, and feel so incredibly blessed. We know so many are already giving sacrificially, and feel honored to be representing you all in Brazil. And behind those names that we read every month, we know there are so many more lifting us up in prayer. Folks, we never take for granted the prayers that you all pray. In a field that seems plagued by health issues, security and safetly problems and traffic that terrified my Mom, we are thankful for every prayer, and pray often for you in return. When Samara was born we were blown away by the generosity of so many of you. Everything from clothes, to handmade blankets, to checks, to a videotaped babyshower, and another that was webcammed. Words cannot expressed how loved we felt by you all. And yet in the back of our minds, this need remains. We have hesitated a long time in writting this email because of the gratitude that we continually feel. And yet at the same time it wouldn't be fair to let you guys ,who have been so involved in the other aspects of this ministry, be left in the dark. If our support account goes into the red, our salary will be cut, and if it gets farther into the red, we will be pulled out of Brazil to go back to the States to raise more support.
Through all of this, we have not felt (even a little) abandoned by God. From the beginning His timing has been perfect. And we know that God's plan, done God's way, never lack provision. Though many of your names are on the checks that go to OMS monthly, it is God to whom we look for our support. We are confident that in His time, He will provide, through His channels. And rest assured, that when He does, you all will be the first to hear.
Thank you for your faithfulness,
in Him, for Him,
Micah and Marla and Samara
ps. The attached picture is of the 3 of us on a new trail we found a few weeks ago
Unlike many of the emails that we send your directions, we wanted to give some updates and information on some of the things that we have asked you to pray about.
Our first prayer request was for our future. We asked prayer, not just for our immediate future but long term. After much prayer, and giving up some of our own hopes and dreams, we feel very strongly that we are to stay here in Brazil. I have never felt so fulfilled in what I've done as I do here. From everything to helping our pastor with the leadership of the church, to discipleship groups, to reformatting the Sunday school program, God has blessed and grown the things that we have had the privilege to be involved in. Though it's hard to look far into the future and not see things like family camping trips on the weekends or watching our kids play in highschool basketball games, we rest in the confidence that God has gotta have something great for us down here too.
Second, Marla had asked for her friend Linda. And since this is Marla's thing, I'll let her write
Hey everybody, Marla here...
I'd written a while back about my new friend Linda. Just as a recap we met last year at the local health clinic and occasionally would see one another on the street and chat for a few minutes. Then we moved to a new house, had a baby and she came by to see us and after visiting each other a few times we decided to
walk together two mornings a week and we've been doing that since April. Linda is from Sweeden and married to a Brazilian guy. She has had a difficult life
having a mother who's been an alcoholic Linda's entire life, and growing up in foster care since about age 7. As a young teenager Linda went to church with a friend for awhile, but her foster mother got to where she would not allow it and Linda didn't like having to sneak out and fight with her foster mother about church so she quit going. So anyway over the last several months we've become better friends. We'd talk about everything under the sun, and many times our converstaions would move in the direction of spiritual things.
Linda has a deep hunger for peace in her life and a lot of questions about the Bible and God and Cristianity. So we'd talk and several times I prayed with her about specific situations or struggles she was going through. I invited her to church the Sunday Micah's parents gave their testimony (end of July) and she came. And she has been coming to church with me every Sunday since! I was able to give her a Bible in english (which she speaks fluently) and also invited her to a special afternoon time we had with some women from church where we made scripture journals. She told me the last time we walked that she's been getting up 1/2 and hour early in the mornings to read her Bible and write notes, thougths, verses or prayers in her journal. I am praising God that she is responding to Him. One Sunday that we'd had communion at church she kinda looked at me and wasn't sure if she was supposed to take it or not. After the service we were talking about it and about what it means to have Jesus as your personal savior and we read Romans 10:9 together and talked about how you accept the free gift of salvation by confessing and believing. And I said something about praying and asking Jesus into your heart to be Lord of your life. She was like "Marla, I think I did that when I was 13...does it still count?"
God is moving in Linda's life and her heart. And I praise Him for her friendship and for the ways he's using Linda to challenge me in my personal spiritual walk. I thank you for your prayers for her and ask that you please don't forget this woman. She has a lot of hurt and mistrust and fear in her heart and I ask you to join me in praying for her to continue to respond to God and to surrender her life completely to Him, and allow Him to heal and rebuild and give new life. Also for her Husband who at this time has no interest at all in God. And for her little boy Adriano who is coming to church with her each week. That seeds of faith will be planted in his young heart.
Third we had asked prayer for our support account. We hadn't given many details other than falling value of the dollar and increased finacial need because of Samara. A long time ago, before we even came to Brazil, I promised to write with openness and clarity. The purpose of this was not just so that I could journal what was going on, but to give you a better picture of the things we face, and to give you a better picture of what being a missionary is like. We have remained committed to sharing both the highs and the lows of this road. But when dealing with things like money, we have kept it vague, because money can be a sticky subject. But about a week ago, I felt a bit convicted that I hadn't really been completely open with you all. So with a recommitment to openess and honesty, I'll fill you all in. When we arrived in Brazil about a year ago, we had a pretty good black balance in our missionary support account (about $12,000). For the first 3 or 4 months the incoming $ matched, more or less what was being expended, so our support account stayed more or less the same. Then about that time we got an email from our headquarter office. We had been opting out of a lot of benifits that OMS requires of the career missionaries. We had been doing this to protect that black balance. But about 8 or 9 months ago, OMS headquarters said, you guys have been with the mission for 6 years already, and are signed on for at least 2 more, so you can no longer opt out of the benifits (retirement). So our monthly expenses went up about $600/ month. Then we got some emails from some of our most faithful supporters, who's finanicial situations had changed because of loss of a job, or switching jobs, or living on a fixed income, who physically could no longer support us finaicially on the level that they had been. Then the amount of rent that we pay was increased pretty substantially. The combined result of all of these things was about $1,200 more was going out monthly than what was coming in. About 5 or six months ago, when this really started to become apparent, we committed ourselves to prayer. We didn't want to just see the need, and jump on-line without seeking God. So we have been praying every since. Marla and I wrote into headquarters and took a voluntary salary reduction of about $350 / month, to help keep us in the black, but even with the salary reduction, our black balance is being reduced by about $900-$1,100 per month. As of the end of last month our black balance had been reduced to about $6,800.
Every month we receive a report, emailed to us, detailing incoming funds and from who they came. Every month we read over that list, and feel so incredibly blessed. We know so many are already giving sacrificially, and feel honored to be representing you all in Brazil. And behind those names that we read every month, we know there are so many more lifting us up in prayer. Folks, we never take for granted the prayers that you all pray. In a field that seems plagued by health issues, security and safetly problems and traffic that terrified my Mom, we are thankful for every prayer, and pray often for you in return. When Samara was born we were blown away by the generosity of so many of you. Everything from clothes, to handmade blankets, to checks, to a videotaped babyshower, and another that was webcammed. Words cannot expressed how loved we felt by you all. And yet in the back of our minds, this need remains. We have hesitated a long time in writting this email because of the gratitude that we continually feel. And yet at the same time it wouldn't be fair to let you guys ,who have been so involved in the other aspects of this ministry, be left in the dark. If our support account goes into the red, our salary will be cut, and if it gets farther into the red, we will be pulled out of Brazil to go back to the States to raise more support.
Through all of this, we have not felt (even a little) abandoned by God. From the beginning His timing has been perfect. And we know that God's plan, done God's way, never lack provision. Though many of your names are on the checks that go to OMS monthly, it is God to whom we look for our support. We are confident that in His time, He will provide, through His channels. And rest assured, that when He does, you all will be the first to hear.
Thank you for your faithfulness,
in Him, for Him,
Micah and Marla and Samara
ps. The attached picture is of the 3 of us on a new trail we found a few weeks ago
Sept 12, 2007 - The Funk
*****No Cliffnotes, Just Micah writting about being blue.. and gettin past it********
There are those days, those weekends, in which we often find ourselves where something isn’t quite right. Though we con’t put our finger on it, we know that something is missing, something has changed. It is in these days, during these times that something seems to hinder thoughts and feelings that have come to be normal. And this feeling, this hinderance, this thing that is not quite right, I have come to call “the funk.” “The funk” is different than other things that often have similar results. For example when you begin to get sick, or are sick, or when you have unusual amounts of stress in your life. Though the symptoms are the same, the primary characteristic of “the funk” is that it’s cause, it’s root is indefinable. Such was my case last night.
When I went to church, I had known something was amiss. I just guessed and attributed it to the fact that I had been working to resolve computer problems for most of the day, and had little success. But then the worship service started. The songs were the same, but for some reason, I could not seem to get into them. My mind wondered, I started to notice the singers that were off tune. I started to get annoyed when the PowerPoint slides were behind, and either consciously or unconsciously, I began to make a list of how things could be better. My thoughts were justifiable right? After all, how would the service appear to newcomers? But then I couldn’t get into the sermon either. Andy my prayers almost seemed to bounce back at me. I guess it was the prayer thing that had bugged me the most. The other shortcomings I could attribute to a fault in someone else. But the prayer thing? I couldn’t shake it something was off. I’ve known this funk before, and usually when I’ve been able to trace it down to it’s roots it’s had to do something unresolved in my own life. Soooo what could it be.
Prayer. Jesus a man of prayer, didn’t do all that much teaching on the subject, not even to his own disciples. After a year and a half of following him, and witnessing him, they finally asked him to teach them how to pray. There must be some secret right? Something that he hadn’t taught the masses so long ago on the Sermon on the mount. Something he could share just with his disciples, just with his closest friends. Not only did Jesus share with them the exact thing he had shared with the masses, he shortend it by a few words.
So there it was…. The format for prayer…given by Jesus himself. If we dissect it you have:
Recognition of who God is
Worship.
Submission
Supplication
Asking for forgiveness
Asking for protection
In the whole prayer only one thing was required of the pray-er… forgiving others.
Why is the forgiving of others so important? Oh, I know some of the psychological implications of harbored bitterness, but the day-to-day stuff. The little stuff. The little things that you tuck away in your mind for some future conversation that you’ll have. You’ll have these conversation with basically pure motives, to see the other person improve. To see the other person get better. But the problem is, in this world of crazy schedules, often times these conversations never happen. So there you sit, there I sit, with all of these minor things, minor irritations building in our minds. It’s hard to call these things areas of forgiveness, because after all, the things that happened were so small, they doen’t merit the title of “sins.” But they build just the same. And as they build in our minds, our fuse gets shorter. And our communion with God gets fractured. Jesus held forgiving others with such importance, he told the masses that if anyone has something against you…leave you sacrifice on the alter, and first be reconciled to your brother. Also the Bible reads that if we don’t forgive our brothers when they sin against us, God will not forgive us. And without this forgiveness our sin, our guilt remains, and communion with God is broken.
So there I was this morning far before Samara woke up debating with God, if these things I had harbored needed to be forgiven. Deserved to be forgiven. They were such little things. They needed to be righted. For the good of the church right? My input was valuable right? So I wondered in these early morning hours what then is the line between needing to forgive someone and needing simply to right a situation? Then God brought me face-to-face with my own motives. Did my motives in confronting the other person want to change an action, or want to change their feelings. Sure I had wanted the action to change for the good of the church, for the good of the system. But so too, did I want the other person feel a little bit guilty, a little bit bad. I wanted them to feel a little bit of the gravity of the situation that they had helped cause. And in that sense, I was wrong.
Forgiveness was needed, and I knew it. But like always, grace cannot be justified. When God extends His grace on me, I like it. But how could I justify extending grace to another? But like other things in life, forgiveness doesn’t rely on my emotions, or my thoughts, but on my will. Like getting out of bed in the morning, especially after a long night; I don’t feel like getting out of bed, and I can justify why I deserve to stay asleep, but sooner or later I have to decided to kick one foot after another off the edge of the mattress and start my day. And usually after I do, I feel better. And also just like getting out of bed, I have to decide to forgive everyday. Sometimes those same thoughts and feelings remain for a while, so everyday I have to recommit to the decisions that I made, until sooner or later those thoughts and feelings are gone. And we are restored.
The Bible says the “Prayers of a righteous man availeth much.” And our society today is in desperate need of true prayer warriors. If we are to do much in this world, if we are to do much in our minististries we have to be righteous. Our righteousness is dependant on us being forgiven, and or forgiveness is dependant on us being forgiving. Even in the little things, the small annoyances, the minor irritations.
There are those days, those weekends, in which we often find ourselves where something isn’t quite right. Though we con’t put our finger on it, we know that something is missing, something has changed. It is in these days, during these times that something seems to hinder thoughts and feelings that have come to be normal. And this feeling, this hinderance, this thing that is not quite right, I have come to call “the funk.” “The funk” is different than other things that often have similar results. For example when you begin to get sick, or are sick, or when you have unusual amounts of stress in your life. Though the symptoms are the same, the primary characteristic of “the funk” is that it’s cause, it’s root is indefinable. Such was my case last night.
When I went to church, I had known something was amiss. I just guessed and attributed it to the fact that I had been working to resolve computer problems for most of the day, and had little success. But then the worship service started. The songs were the same, but for some reason, I could not seem to get into them. My mind wondered, I started to notice the singers that were off tune. I started to get annoyed when the PowerPoint slides were behind, and either consciously or unconsciously, I began to make a list of how things could be better. My thoughts were justifiable right? After all, how would the service appear to newcomers? But then I couldn’t get into the sermon either. Andy my prayers almost seemed to bounce back at me. I guess it was the prayer thing that had bugged me the most. The other shortcomings I could attribute to a fault in someone else. But the prayer thing? I couldn’t shake it something was off. I’ve known this funk before, and usually when I’ve been able to trace it down to it’s roots it’s had to do something unresolved in my own life. Soooo what could it be.
Prayer. Jesus a man of prayer, didn’t do all that much teaching on the subject, not even to his own disciples. After a year and a half of following him, and witnessing him, they finally asked him to teach them how to pray. There must be some secret right? Something that he hadn’t taught the masses so long ago on the Sermon on the mount. Something he could share just with his disciples, just with his closest friends. Not only did Jesus share with them the exact thing he had shared with the masses, he shortend it by a few words.
So there it was…. The format for prayer…given by Jesus himself. If we dissect it you have:
Recognition of who God is
Worship.
Submission
Supplication
Asking for forgiveness
Asking for protection
In the whole prayer only one thing was required of the pray-er… forgiving others.
Why is the forgiving of others so important? Oh, I know some of the psychological implications of harbored bitterness, but the day-to-day stuff. The little stuff. The little things that you tuck away in your mind for some future conversation that you’ll have. You’ll have these conversation with basically pure motives, to see the other person improve. To see the other person get better. But the problem is, in this world of crazy schedules, often times these conversations never happen. So there you sit, there I sit, with all of these minor things, minor irritations building in our minds. It’s hard to call these things areas of forgiveness, because after all, the things that happened were so small, they doen’t merit the title of “sins.” But they build just the same. And as they build in our minds, our fuse gets shorter. And our communion with God gets fractured. Jesus held forgiving others with such importance, he told the masses that if anyone has something against you…leave you sacrifice on the alter, and first be reconciled to your brother. Also the Bible reads that if we don’t forgive our brothers when they sin against us, God will not forgive us. And without this forgiveness our sin, our guilt remains, and communion with God is broken.
So there I was this morning far before Samara woke up debating with God, if these things I had harbored needed to be forgiven. Deserved to be forgiven. They were such little things. They needed to be righted. For the good of the church right? My input was valuable right? So I wondered in these early morning hours what then is the line between needing to forgive someone and needing simply to right a situation? Then God brought me face-to-face with my own motives. Did my motives in confronting the other person want to change an action, or want to change their feelings. Sure I had wanted the action to change for the good of the church, for the good of the system. But so too, did I want the other person feel a little bit guilty, a little bit bad. I wanted them to feel a little bit of the gravity of the situation that they had helped cause. And in that sense, I was wrong.
Forgiveness was needed, and I knew it. But like always, grace cannot be justified. When God extends His grace on me, I like it. But how could I justify extending grace to another? But like other things in life, forgiveness doesn’t rely on my emotions, or my thoughts, but on my will. Like getting out of bed in the morning, especially after a long night; I don’t feel like getting out of bed, and I can justify why I deserve to stay asleep, but sooner or later I have to decided to kick one foot after another off the edge of the mattress and start my day. And usually after I do, I feel better. And also just like getting out of bed, I have to decide to forgive everyday. Sometimes those same thoughts and feelings remain for a while, so everyday I have to recommit to the decisions that I made, until sooner or later those thoughts and feelings are gone. And we are restored.
The Bible says the “Prayers of a righteous man availeth much.” And our society today is in desperate need of true prayer warriors. If we are to do much in this world, if we are to do much in our minististries we have to be righteous. Our righteousness is dependant on us being forgiven, and or forgiveness is dependant on us being forgiving. Even in the little things, the small annoyances, the minor irritations.
July 17, 2007 - The Courage to Dream
*************************************Cliffnotes available at page bottom********************************************************************
Few things are more damaging to faith than the death of a dream. An unfulfilled desire. What happens when something that we hoped for, or even prayed for, is never realized? Whether we recognize it or not, those events mark us. And when recognized, only we have the power to decide if those marks will be events from which we grow, or something that will dehabilitate us.
The ability to dream is a very human characteristic. No one has to tell a child how to dream, or how to use their imagination. It is instinctual. Just ask a kid on the street what they want to be when they grow up. Certainly the answers will very, but I imagine the younger the child, the bigger their dream. So what happens along the way that makes us stop believing? In short...life. The aspiring NBA star, never grows over 6 feet, and can't jump to save his life. The movie star is told that she isn't pretty enough. And the kid that wants to save the world only learns of the world's complexity of problems and beurocratic mess. So what happens? Step by step we downsize our dreams, to things that seem more possible, that seem more probable. Untill finally we arrive at the point where our lives are consume by pursuing goals that are in our own thinking "attainable." And yet, in my thinking, the most inhibiting part of this whole process, is how it damages and stunts our faith. The Bible says that without faith, it is impossible to please God. In the Gospel accounts of Jesus's ministry how many times do we read "go in peace, your faith has healed you."? We ask ourselves where are the miricles in the modern day, and I ask where is the faith. But I'm not asking of society in general, I'm asking it of myself.
Like a lot of kids, I grew up not knowing exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up. Like many others, I was involved in a variety of sports, and loved the challange and the thrill of athletic competition. As I got older, it was easy to see that if I wanted to keep being involved in sports, I needed to train harder, I needed to become better. When I started high school and had to make the desicion between playing football and soccer (two sports that both played in the fall) I chose soccer, not because it was my favorite, but because I knew I'd never grow to the size needed to play college football. Then in 1994 the World Cup was played in America. The world's biggest soccer event, actually the biggest sports event in the world, was being played on our home soil. The TV stations carried the games, and I became entranced by the idea, the dream of one day playing in such an arena. At the time, I was in high school, I wasn't dumb. I knew that I'd never get to play in a game like that if I didn't get much, much better. I wasn't naiive enough to believe sheer will power would take me to my goal. So I started to dedicate myself to my task. I trained harder. I did drills on my own at home. I joined club teams. I beleived that if I tried hard enough, with a big enough heart, with enough sweat, one day, my moment would arrive. And in truth, I did improve. I did get better. As a sophmore I was selected to be on the varsity team, as a junior I recieved league honors, but my senior year, I began to realize I was off pace if I wanted to play soccer, I mean really play soccer. I just wasn't as good as some of the other guys in the league. I wasn't even as good as some of the younger guys on my team. So then, I downsized my dream. Oh just to get a college scholarship doing something I loved, that'd be cool. So I wanted to play soccer in college, and use that soccer to pay for at least part of my education. But the problem was, there wasn't any school looking at me as a potential player. I couldn't blame them, our team was always near the bottom of the league, and my senior year, the year that was supposed to be a great year, our team got a new coach, who decided we were going to have a "building year." Out with some of the good senior players and in with mostly underclassmen who had "potential." So my dream downsized again. Maybe if I couldn't attract a college team, I could play as a walk-on, and then at least get a mandatory athletic scholarship for my involvement with the team. So when I finally committed to a school, I decided to try out as a walk-on. Well, George Fox was a smaller school, but had an excellent soccer program. But unfortunatly they had just joined the NCAA division III, which meant no sports scholarships would be given...period. Well at least I could still play. So try outs started, and I did ok. Good enough to make the junior varisty squad (actually I don't think they cut hardly anyone). So as I played that year on the JV team, I began to realize my dream of playing on the world stage was never going to happen. But at least, I thought, I'd be a good player on the varsity team one day. So I dedicated myself to the task with equal vigor as I had before.
My soccer skill began improving, I was getting better. In actuality, I was playing the best soccer of my life, just months before my sophmore season was to begin, I began to sense God telling me to let it go. Determined not to give up, I dedicated myself even more, fooling myself with the "I'll play for your glory God," mentality as I only persued further that which God was calling me to let go. Finally one Sunday, just two weeks before our season was to begin, I was standing in church, when I knew for a fact that God was telling me not to play. In a prayer, I said "God if you don't want me to play, you'll have to hurt me." Just a word of caution....this was not a very smart prayer to pray. That very day, God did just that. I went bridge jumping (also not a very smart thing to do). A group of us drove an hour and a half south into a national forest where a bridge was that sat 60 feet above a deep mountain stream. Since 60 feet didn't seem high enough to impress my friends, and because I had already done it before I climbed the tresses of that bridge to a point and stood 90 feet above the surface of the water. Overcome with confidence, that I had already made this jump before, and completely forgetting that I had challanged God to hurt me just hours before, I jumped. A few seconds later I felt as if both of my legs had been broken at the knees. With my arms, I dragged myself onto the rocks on the bank of the river and just layed there for a few minutes. I did managed to make it to the top of the hill, but for the rest of the day, could not walk, and could barely stand. I recovered slowly, one month before I could really walk again, four months before I could jog, and six before I could sprint. And for the first time in my life, I watched the soccer season from the other side. The spectator side. And as that soccer season wore on, my dream finally and slowly died.
The death of my dream of playing soccer, isn't unlike the death of so many other athletic dreams. You could probably just change a few names and details in that last narrative and describe the death of 10's of thousands dreams that die yearly and the athletes who started their quest so many years ago starry-eyed from some movie or TV program. But what was truely tragic about the death of this dream, wasn't the dream itself, but how it marked me. The ways that it changed me, ways that I am just now realizing. And what seemed to make it worse, was that it was God himself that was asking me to give up my dream. I had kept my dream alive longer than most people that I knew. I was no stranger to perseverance and persistance, so when that dream died so too died some of my ability to dream. A year and a half later it got even worse. After much prayer and searching I felt God calling me into some sort of "ministry," which was the absolute last thing that I wanted to do with my life. Confronted with the fact that God knows me better than I know myself, I conceded yet another defeat. I was empty, a blank sheet of paper, clay to molded, what ever metaphor you want to use, I was tired of trying, tired of chasing my own dreams...so in short...I stopped dreaming. I became ready to do the will of God, ready to go where he wanted me to go, do what he wanted me to do, but as far as a 5 year or 10 year plan... I had none. I had none because what if God showed up and changed it, or asked me to leave it, could I deal with seeing another dream die? Or what if just like playing professional soccer, what if my dream just proved to be too impossible. It was too expensive to watch another dream die.
It wasn't that I wasn't person that had forgotten how to dream. It's that I hadn't the courage to dream. You see dreaming takes courage. Courage of being rejected, courage to take the risk of having your hopes fall flat. So in looking at what I stood to loose, I chose not to dream. Not to have a will. Of course I could spiritualize this lack of courage. Words like, "my will is to do His will." "I must deny myself daily and pick up my cross." And in fact, that view is Biblical. But there has to be another side of the coin. As I've been finding out more and more with God, atributes that we want to acribe to God, characteristics, so often aren't one OR the other, but both at the same time. For example: is God love, or just? One not diminishing the other. It's a thing or minds have a hard thing getting around, or understanding. But isn't our God just that: hard to understand, hard to comprehend? The Bible says "as far as the heavens are aboth the earth are my ways above your ways, are my thoughts above yours." We must stop thinking that we have to completely understand God before we put all of our faith in Him, because it will never happen.
So in all of this, how did the loss of a dream effect my faith. Well, in short, I stopped asking God for the impossible. I started believing that God would provide through the probable. Sure God would still provide, still show Himself to be God, but just in smaller ways...in more normal ways. My courage to dream, was related to my courage to ask. To ask for the impossible. To ask for the miracle.
This correlation between the faith of asking and the realization of miracles has been emphasized again and again for me in our weekly Saturday night Bible studies. We are studying through the Gospel of Luke. Right now we are in the middle of a bunch of miracles that Jesus is doing. And you know what He says so much after preforming such miracles? You know what He says? "Go in peace, your faith has healed you." It was faith that brought them to Jesus in the first place. It was faith that put them in that place of vulnerability. That place where everybody was looking, where everybody was seeing clearly their need. Doubt could have entered in, they could have given in, they could have "downsized" their dream. But you know what...they didn't. They knew exactly what they wanted from the Master, and they didn't settle for asking for anything less, anything "more probable." And you know what? They saw miracles. What if the friends who carried the paralytic on the mat, who dug a hole in a roof to lower their buddy in stopped short by saying or thinking "Jesus is busy. What will the owner of the house think? The guy has been a paralytic for so long, can't he just get by a while longer?"
This was no more clear for me than this week in our study. We were reading Luke 8:40-56. This was the story of Jarius, the synagogue ruler, who had the sick daughter who was on the verge of death. So this guy Jarius goes and finds Jesus to see if Jesus will heal his little girl. Jesus agrees and is on His way to Jarius's house when a lady who had been suffering from a bleeding desease for the past 12 years reaches out and touches Jesus. At that very instant Jesus senses that some of His power has gone out from Him. So He askes "who touched me." This woman fessed up to it, Jesus says "your faith has healed you." Then what happens. Someone arrives from Jarius's house and says don't bother Jesus anymore, your daughter is already dead. Then Jesus says the most interesting thing. He says "Don't be afraid; just believe, and she will be healed."
It would seem that the miracle that Jarius was hoping for was dependant on his beleif. What do you suppose would have happened if Jarius doubted? Do you suppose he would have seen his little girl raise up in perfect health? He had to have enough faith ASK for the miracle. To BELIEVE for the miracle. But you know the truely beautiful part of this story? Look at the order in which it happened. Jarius was on his way home with Jesus, with the solution to his problems, and just before his faith (the faith needed for the miracle to happen) recieved it's biggest testing. Jarius witnessed a miracle. And when Jesus stopped the crowd and ask "who touched me." When Jesus stopped and recognized publicly the other miracle that had just happened, I wonder if at least part of it, was done for the benifit of Jarius. So that the faith of Jarius could be strenghtend. Jarius's faith was strenghtend, and he did see a miracle. Without faith we will never ask for a miracle. Without faith we will never believe for a miracle, and without faith we will never see a miracle.
Do we in our day even want to see miracles, do we believe we will see miracles? Or do we downsize our dreams into the realm of "probable?" When we pray do we ask for the impossible? I could talk about evangelism teams that I met in India 4 years ago, who's main way of evangelizing is through preforming miracles. They ask people what they need, and they say "our God will do that, our God will heal you." And you know what? Often times God does preform the miracle. He does the impossible. They don't finish with the clause "if it's God's will." Oh, I know we should pray in the will of God, but if we truely know God, don't you think we'll also know His will. The problem of praying "if it's God's will" is that you're giving space for your doubt. You are afraid if something doesn't happen that God will look bad. If you know the will of God, let God worry about His own reputation, He's actually pretty good at it. In the book of acts, when the crippled begger asks Peter and John for money, they didn't say "silver and gold we have not, but what we have we give you, in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazereth, walk.....if it's God's will." Peter said walk, and the crippled begger walked.
Have I stopped asking for a miracle? Have I settled for asking for the probable? Here I am, writting how the death of an athletic dream stunted my faith, and I know of so many that wrestle with the loss of so much more. The loss of the dream job, the death of a loved one, a long prolonged illness. But I beleive the effect was the same. I stopped asking for, I stopped believing for miracles. But you know something? I have resolved to start again. To dream the impossible dreams, and let God show himself once again, to be the God of not just the probable, but the impossible. I used to carry a quote in my wallet from a speech of Nelson Mandela that reads "Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world...We are all meant to shine...We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us."
So where does this dream lead us from here? I don't know, but I love where we are. I wake up almost everyday thanking God for the opertunity to be here in Brazil. We get to see miracles happening, we get help lead an incredible new church. We get to pour ourselves into vibrant people who are hungry for God. And to top it all off, now I even get to play quality soccer 3 times a week. God has blessed and protected us here. We have been carried in a very real sense by the power of your prayers. Our family has grown, and we get to hold a beautiful baby girl everyday. I've even let my guard down and let Brazil into my heart. Before this was hard to do because what if God calls us to leave Brazil? What then? But with the courage to dream, comes the courage to invest and the courage to love.
Sure those thoughts, those doubts still come, and sometimes the fear of the "what if" starts to build. But I have resolved that the dreams of my life will not be dominated by this fear. That I still serve the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob. I can still dream the impossible dream. But this time it isn't based on my own skills and talents but on God. And I will let him prove that He is the God of the impossible. And know that this is not naiive youth speaking. I have had the privilage of being around men in their 60's, 70's and 80's. Men who have have been dealt their share of hard times. But men who still believe in the God of the impossible And it is these men who still see miracles.
Wheew, that was a lot, what about us? What about Brazil? What about my sermon that I preached a little over a week ago that I had asked prayer about. The sermon went really, really well. I preached what was on my heart to preach. At the end the end there was an evegelistic appeal. There were many teenagers and young people in our church whom I had never seen before. There were others that came that I did know, that had never been to our church before. The seed of the Word was sown, and God says in His word that it never returns void. Thank you for your prayers. The visit with Marla's folks was excellent. Our friend Kim Grimes is currently visiting, and my parents arrive in a week and a half. We'll write more about their visits and impressions in an email to come. I would ask for prayer for our support account. Because the value of the US dollar has been falling dramatically, and because OMS isn't letting us opt out of taking retirement anymore, our monthly need has increased. (Oh yeah, we also had a baby, which has also increased the need). We have been so blessed by so many of you as we read down the monthly giving reports that OMS sends us, we truely feel privalged to be representing you down here in Brazil. Please pray for new financial supporters who would join with us.
Thank you all so much for your partnership in this shared ministry
in Him, for Him,
Micah and Marla
ps. Picture definitions. If you notice most the pictures have Samara in them, actually, I'm beginning to think the camera only takes pictures of her. And the only reason we are in them at all is because we are in them WITH her. The first picture is of Marla's parents with Samara. The second is her first time to the pool (which she loved). The third is of a biking trip we did in Foz do Iguacu. The final pictures are self explanitory
*******************Cliffnotes: Courage to dream**************************************************
This email starts with the phrase "Few things are as damaging to faith as a broken dream." I then spend some time explaining how my dream of playing soccer on the world stage was slowly "downsized" and downsized by in life (and the fact I wasn't all that great in the first place). Untill my dream was either lost or downsized so much it fell in the world of "probabel." The problem is when we translate this to faith, we stop asking God, stop believing for things that look impossible, and thus miss out on seeing miracles happen today. But believing God for the impossible takes courage, dreaming impossible dreams take courage, but without this courage we will never see miracle. Prayer requests and praise notes: just read the last paragraph of the email above. Thanks
****************************************************************************************************************
Few things are more damaging to faith than the death of a dream. An unfulfilled desire. What happens when something that we hoped for, or even prayed for, is never realized? Whether we recognize it or not, those events mark us. And when recognized, only we have the power to decide if those marks will be events from which we grow, or something that will dehabilitate us.
The ability to dream is a very human characteristic. No one has to tell a child how to dream, or how to use their imagination. It is instinctual. Just ask a kid on the street what they want to be when they grow up. Certainly the answers will very, but I imagine the younger the child, the bigger their dream. So what happens along the way that makes us stop believing? In short...life. The aspiring NBA star, never grows over 6 feet, and can't jump to save his life. The movie star is told that she isn't pretty enough. And the kid that wants to save the world only learns of the world's complexity of problems and beurocratic mess. So what happens? Step by step we downsize our dreams, to things that seem more possible, that seem more probable. Untill finally we arrive at the point where our lives are consume by pursuing goals that are in our own thinking "attainable." And yet, in my thinking, the most inhibiting part of this whole process, is how it damages and stunts our faith. The Bible says that without faith, it is impossible to please God. In the Gospel accounts of Jesus's ministry how many times do we read "go in peace, your faith has healed you."? We ask ourselves where are the miricles in the modern day, and I ask where is the faith. But I'm not asking of society in general, I'm asking it of myself.
Like a lot of kids, I grew up not knowing exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up. Like many others, I was involved in a variety of sports, and loved the challange and the thrill of athletic competition. As I got older, it was easy to see that if I wanted to keep being involved in sports, I needed to train harder, I needed to become better. When I started high school and had to make the desicion between playing football and soccer (two sports that both played in the fall) I chose soccer, not because it was my favorite, but because I knew I'd never grow to the size needed to play college football. Then in 1994 the World Cup was played in America. The world's biggest soccer event, actually the biggest sports event in the world, was being played on our home soil. The TV stations carried the games, and I became entranced by the idea, the dream of one day playing in such an arena. At the time, I was in high school, I wasn't dumb. I knew that I'd never get to play in a game like that if I didn't get much, much better. I wasn't naiive enough to believe sheer will power would take me to my goal. So I started to dedicate myself to my task. I trained harder. I did drills on my own at home. I joined club teams. I beleived that if I tried hard enough, with a big enough heart, with enough sweat, one day, my moment would arrive. And in truth, I did improve. I did get better. As a sophmore I was selected to be on the varsity team, as a junior I recieved league honors, but my senior year, I began to realize I was off pace if I wanted to play soccer, I mean really play soccer. I just wasn't as good as some of the other guys in the league. I wasn't even as good as some of the younger guys on my team. So then, I downsized my dream. Oh just to get a college scholarship doing something I loved, that'd be cool. So I wanted to play soccer in college, and use that soccer to pay for at least part of my education. But the problem was, there wasn't any school looking at me as a potential player. I couldn't blame them, our team was always near the bottom of the league, and my senior year, the year that was supposed to be a great year, our team got a new coach, who decided we were going to have a "building year." Out with some of the good senior players and in with mostly underclassmen who had "potential." So my dream downsized again. Maybe if I couldn't attract a college team, I could play as a walk-on, and then at least get a mandatory athletic scholarship for my involvement with the team. So when I finally committed to a school, I decided to try out as a walk-on. Well, George Fox was a smaller school, but had an excellent soccer program. But unfortunatly they had just joined the NCAA division III, which meant no sports scholarships would be given...period. Well at least I could still play. So try outs started, and I did ok. Good enough to make the junior varisty squad (actually I don't think they cut hardly anyone). So as I played that year on the JV team, I began to realize my dream of playing on the world stage was never going to happen. But at least, I thought, I'd be a good player on the varsity team one day. So I dedicated myself to the task with equal vigor as I had before.
My soccer skill began improving, I was getting better. In actuality, I was playing the best soccer of my life, just months before my sophmore season was to begin, I began to sense God telling me to let it go. Determined not to give up, I dedicated myself even more, fooling myself with the "I'll play for your glory God," mentality as I only persued further that which God was calling me to let go. Finally one Sunday, just two weeks before our season was to begin, I was standing in church, when I knew for a fact that God was telling me not to play. In a prayer, I said "God if you don't want me to play, you'll have to hurt me." Just a word of caution....this was not a very smart prayer to pray. That very day, God did just that. I went bridge jumping (also not a very smart thing to do). A group of us drove an hour and a half south into a national forest where a bridge was that sat 60 feet above a deep mountain stream. Since 60 feet didn't seem high enough to impress my friends, and because I had already done it before I climbed the tresses of that bridge to a point and stood 90 feet above the surface of the water. Overcome with confidence, that I had already made this jump before, and completely forgetting that I had challanged God to hurt me just hours before, I jumped. A few seconds later I felt as if both of my legs had been broken at the knees. With my arms, I dragged myself onto the rocks on the bank of the river and just layed there for a few minutes. I did managed to make it to the top of the hill, but for the rest of the day, could not walk, and could barely stand. I recovered slowly, one month before I could really walk again, four months before I could jog, and six before I could sprint. And for the first time in my life, I watched the soccer season from the other side. The spectator side. And as that soccer season wore on, my dream finally and slowly died.
The death of my dream of playing soccer, isn't unlike the death of so many other athletic dreams. You could probably just change a few names and details in that last narrative and describe the death of 10's of thousands dreams that die yearly and the athletes who started their quest so many years ago starry-eyed from some movie or TV program. But what was truely tragic about the death of this dream, wasn't the dream itself, but how it marked me. The ways that it changed me, ways that I am just now realizing. And what seemed to make it worse, was that it was God himself that was asking me to give up my dream. I had kept my dream alive longer than most people that I knew. I was no stranger to perseverance and persistance, so when that dream died so too died some of my ability to dream. A year and a half later it got even worse. After much prayer and searching I felt God calling me into some sort of "ministry," which was the absolute last thing that I wanted to do with my life. Confronted with the fact that God knows me better than I know myself, I conceded yet another defeat. I was empty, a blank sheet of paper, clay to molded, what ever metaphor you want to use, I was tired of trying, tired of chasing my own dreams...so in short...I stopped dreaming. I became ready to do the will of God, ready to go where he wanted me to go, do what he wanted me to do, but as far as a 5 year or 10 year plan... I had none. I had none because what if God showed up and changed it, or asked me to leave it, could I deal with seeing another dream die? Or what if just like playing professional soccer, what if my dream just proved to be too impossible. It was too expensive to watch another dream die.
It wasn't that I wasn't person that had forgotten how to dream. It's that I hadn't the courage to dream. You see dreaming takes courage. Courage of being rejected, courage to take the risk of having your hopes fall flat. So in looking at what I stood to loose, I chose not to dream. Not to have a will. Of course I could spiritualize this lack of courage. Words like, "my will is to do His will." "I must deny myself daily and pick up my cross." And in fact, that view is Biblical. But there has to be another side of the coin. As I've been finding out more and more with God, atributes that we want to acribe to God, characteristics, so often aren't one OR the other, but both at the same time. For example: is God love, or just? One not diminishing the other. It's a thing or minds have a hard thing getting around, or understanding. But isn't our God just that: hard to understand, hard to comprehend? The Bible says "as far as the heavens are aboth the earth are my ways above your ways, are my thoughts above yours." We must stop thinking that we have to completely understand God before we put all of our faith in Him, because it will never happen.
So in all of this, how did the loss of a dream effect my faith. Well, in short, I stopped asking God for the impossible. I started believing that God would provide through the probable. Sure God would still provide, still show Himself to be God, but just in smaller ways...in more normal ways. My courage to dream, was related to my courage to ask. To ask for the impossible. To ask for the miracle.
This correlation between the faith of asking and the realization of miracles has been emphasized again and again for me in our weekly Saturday night Bible studies. We are studying through the Gospel of Luke. Right now we are in the middle of a bunch of miracles that Jesus is doing. And you know what He says so much after preforming such miracles? You know what He says? "Go in peace, your faith has healed you." It was faith that brought them to Jesus in the first place. It was faith that put them in that place of vulnerability. That place where everybody was looking, where everybody was seeing clearly their need. Doubt could have entered in, they could have given in, they could have "downsized" their dream. But you know what...they didn't. They knew exactly what they wanted from the Master, and they didn't settle for asking for anything less, anything "more probable." And you know what? They saw miracles. What if the friends who carried the paralytic on the mat, who dug a hole in a roof to lower their buddy in stopped short by saying or thinking "Jesus is busy. What will the owner of the house think? The guy has been a paralytic for so long, can't he just get by a while longer?"
This was no more clear for me than this week in our study. We were reading Luke 8:40-56. This was the story of Jarius, the synagogue ruler, who had the sick daughter who was on the verge of death. So this guy Jarius goes and finds Jesus to see if Jesus will heal his little girl. Jesus agrees and is on His way to Jarius's house when a lady who had been suffering from a bleeding desease for the past 12 years reaches out and touches Jesus. At that very instant Jesus senses that some of His power has gone out from Him. So He askes "who touched me." This woman fessed up to it, Jesus says "your faith has healed you." Then what happens. Someone arrives from Jarius's house and says don't bother Jesus anymore, your daughter is already dead. Then Jesus says the most interesting thing. He says "Don't be afraid; just believe, and she will be healed."
It would seem that the miracle that Jarius was hoping for was dependant on his beleif. What do you suppose would have happened if Jarius doubted? Do you suppose he would have seen his little girl raise up in perfect health? He had to have enough faith ASK for the miracle. To BELIEVE for the miracle. But you know the truely beautiful part of this story? Look at the order in which it happened. Jarius was on his way home with Jesus, with the solution to his problems, and just before his faith (the faith needed for the miracle to happen) recieved it's biggest testing. Jarius witnessed a miracle. And when Jesus stopped the crowd and ask "who touched me." When Jesus stopped and recognized publicly the other miracle that had just happened, I wonder if at least part of it, was done for the benifit of Jarius. So that the faith of Jarius could be strenghtend. Jarius's faith was strenghtend, and he did see a miracle. Without faith we will never ask for a miracle. Without faith we will never believe for a miracle, and without faith we will never see a miracle.
Do we in our day even want to see miracles, do we believe we will see miracles? Or do we downsize our dreams into the realm of "probable?" When we pray do we ask for the impossible? I could talk about evangelism teams that I met in India 4 years ago, who's main way of evangelizing is through preforming miracles. They ask people what they need, and they say "our God will do that, our God will heal you." And you know what? Often times God does preform the miracle. He does the impossible. They don't finish with the clause "if it's God's will." Oh, I know we should pray in the will of God, but if we truely know God, don't you think we'll also know His will. The problem of praying "if it's God's will" is that you're giving space for your doubt. You are afraid if something doesn't happen that God will look bad. If you know the will of God, let God worry about His own reputation, He's actually pretty good at it. In the book of acts, when the crippled begger asks Peter and John for money, they didn't say "silver and gold we have not, but what we have we give you, in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazereth, walk.....if it's God's will." Peter said walk, and the crippled begger walked.
Have I stopped asking for a miracle? Have I settled for asking for the probable? Here I am, writting how the death of an athletic dream stunted my faith, and I know of so many that wrestle with the loss of so much more. The loss of the dream job, the death of a loved one, a long prolonged illness. But I beleive the effect was the same. I stopped asking for, I stopped believing for miracles. But you know something? I have resolved to start again. To dream the impossible dreams, and let God show himself once again, to be the God of not just the probable, but the impossible. I used to carry a quote in my wallet from a speech of Nelson Mandela that reads "Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world...We are all meant to shine...We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us."
So where does this dream lead us from here? I don't know, but I love where we are. I wake up almost everyday thanking God for the opertunity to be here in Brazil. We get to see miracles happening, we get help lead an incredible new church. We get to pour ourselves into vibrant people who are hungry for God. And to top it all off, now I even get to play quality soccer 3 times a week. God has blessed and protected us here. We have been carried in a very real sense by the power of your prayers. Our family has grown, and we get to hold a beautiful baby girl everyday. I've even let my guard down and let Brazil into my heart. Before this was hard to do because what if God calls us to leave Brazil? What then? But with the courage to dream, comes the courage to invest and the courage to love.
Sure those thoughts, those doubts still come, and sometimes the fear of the "what if" starts to build. But I have resolved that the dreams of my life will not be dominated by this fear. That I still serve the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob. I can still dream the impossible dream. But this time it isn't based on my own skills and talents but on God. And I will let him prove that He is the God of the impossible. And know that this is not naiive youth speaking. I have had the privilage of being around men in their 60's, 70's and 80's. Men who have have been dealt their share of hard times. But men who still believe in the God of the impossible And it is these men who still see miracles.
Wheew, that was a lot, what about us? What about Brazil? What about my sermon that I preached a little over a week ago that I had asked prayer about. The sermon went really, really well. I preached what was on my heart to preach. At the end the end there was an evegelistic appeal. There were many teenagers and young people in our church whom I had never seen before. There were others that came that I did know, that had never been to our church before. The seed of the Word was sown, and God says in His word that it never returns void. Thank you for your prayers. The visit with Marla's folks was excellent. Our friend Kim Grimes is currently visiting, and my parents arrive in a week and a half. We'll write more about their visits and impressions in an email to come. I would ask for prayer for our support account. Because the value of the US dollar has been falling dramatically, and because OMS isn't letting us opt out of taking retirement anymore, our monthly need has increased. (Oh yeah, we also had a baby, which has also increased the need). We have been so blessed by so many of you as we read down the monthly giving reports that OMS sends us, we truely feel privalged to be representing you down here in Brazil. Please pray for new financial supporters who would join with us.
Thank you all so much for your partnership in this shared ministry
in Him, for Him,
Micah and Marla
ps. Picture definitions. If you notice most the pictures have Samara in them, actually, I'm beginning to think the camera only takes pictures of her. And the only reason we are in them at all is because we are in them WITH her. The first picture is of Marla's parents with Samara. The second is her first time to the pool (which she loved). The third is of a biking trip we did in Foz do Iguacu. The final pictures are self explanitory
*******************Cliffnotes: Courage to dream**************************************************
This email starts with the phrase "Few things are as damaging to faith as a broken dream." I then spend some time explaining how my dream of playing soccer on the world stage was slowly "downsized" and downsized by in life (and the fact I wasn't all that great in the first place). Untill my dream was either lost or downsized so much it fell in the world of "probabel." The problem is when we translate this to faith, we stop asking God, stop believing for things that look impossible, and thus miss out on seeing miracles happen today. But believing God for the impossible takes courage, dreaming impossible dreams take courage, but without this courage we will never see miracle. Prayer requests and praise notes: just read the last paragraph of the email above. Thanks
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June 4, 2007 - Lovin
*******************************************Cliff Notes available at post bottom**************************************************************
"I love being a Mom" This is something I said to Micah the other day and it made his favorite moments of the day list. You see every night before we fall asleep Micah and I share our "highlights" of the day. For Micah these highlights are often centered around food and soccer so I was kinda suprised that he remembered that I'd said this and even more so that it made his list. But it really is true that I'm loving being a mom. Sure my days look a whole lot different than they did two months ago, sure I've got these little dried drool patches on the shoulders of my shirts, sure there are burp cloths thrown over the backs of all handy chairs, sure 4:00am and I are pretty well aquainted, sure many of those pre-pregnancy clothes still won't button and sure those curtains I started sewing two months ago are still not finished. But boy oh boy do I have a whole new appreciation for all you moms out there. And we just have one! A pretty cute one if I do say so myself. Samara is such a joy brings so much delight to our home. We love her to pieces!
Our days really do look different. Pretty much from the time we were married up until Samara was born, Micah and I spent the majority of almost every day together. Even here in Brazil we went to work together and were involved in many of the same meetings and ministries of the church. Since Samara's birth I've stepped back from most formal minsitry things at church and pretty much been at home the majority of my days. Micah not only kept up with all his old responsibilities, but he also picked up many new things to help take up some of the slack from where I had been. This has been an adjustment for us, one I don't really think we'd envisioned. We enjoyed spending our days together and working along side one another and we miss it.
We are both still involved in the leadership meetings at church and these usually entail a time of devotions and discussion as well as keeping everyone up to date on the different ministries and activities of the church. One thing that has been a focus in our church body lately has been a course called "Now That I'm a Member." It is designed to help people discover their spiritual gifts, learn about the assets and liabilities of these gifts and find ways to use their gifts within the different ministires of the church. It really is neat to see people understanding more about how God made them and gave them unique gifts as well as seeing them get excited to plug into different ministires.
I have been involved in the childrens ministry from the beginning of our time here and it's something that I really, really enjoy. The kids are just so cute and so excited every week for sunday school. They see us walking to church and come running up to ask "are you our teacher today, what are we learning." Our church building is a big concrete building with particle board dividers at the back for a few offices and two classrooms. Our sunday shool time for kids is during the main service on Sunday nights. Let me just say that someone is always coming into my class and telling us to "SSHHH." We taught the kids all kinds of creative ways to act things out, play games and celebrate without making noise and just using our bodies, arms and legs to cheer and show excitement. Over the last months we've had about 5 teachers rotating through the two classes (3-6 and 7-11 yrs old) and seven teenagers rotating as helpers. With the goal of training these teens to be future teachers, like a kind of teacher mentoring system. Several of our current teachers were wonderful to volunteer simply because there was a need for teachers, but they don't necessarily have a passion and love for teaching kids. The teens have been great helpers and have slowly been given more responsibility during the class time. They kept asking when they could start teaching on their own. So just a few weeks ago we offered a class one Saturday afternoon for anyone who wanted to learn more about teaching Sunday school. We told the teens that if they wanted to be teachers that they needed to come to this training time. A woman who has many years of childrens ministry experience in another church came and spent several hours demonstrating all kinds of creative ways to teach kids, different songs, games, dramas...Well three of our teenagers participated in this class and afterward were totally gung-ho to start teaching. So Elizia (the other lady who coordinates kids stuff at our church) and I decided to "turn them loose" so to speak. So this Sunday night Nathany (16) and Diorgi(13) are each teaching their first class and Elizia and I will be their helpers. I've no doubt that they will do great. They love the kids are are super inspired to have a more permant role as sunday school teachers. It's just been so neat to see them overcome their fears of being in front of the kids. At first most of the helpers seemed to be volunteering just to get out of sitting in the main services. They would pretty much just hand out snacks. But as the weeks went by and they began to get more comfortable and invest more in the younger kids, they slowly added to what they were willing to do, from telling the Bible story to teaching memory verses and leading games. I've really enjoyed getting to know the teenagers more too, they are so much fun and add a lot of creativity to the classes. So I'm pretty proud of Nathany, Diorgi and Thuany for taking the inititive to attend the training and now to become teachers themselves. Elizia and I will be their helpers just the first few times to help with the transtition, so that the little kids know that the teens are "real" teachers and to be respected and listened to. These kids stepping up to be teachers is a big answer to prayer in many ways. Several of our other teachers who have been helping but don't have the passion for teaching will now be free to pursue other areas of minsitry, and the teens who are starting to teach will have great opportunity to exercise their different gifts and abilities in the classroom as well as be role models to the younger kids. There are also several new people who are wanting to help with the kids ministry, so I look forward to seeing how our Sunday School program will be changing in the coming months.
Other big news in my life is that I have a new friend! Linda is a women that Micah and I happened to meet last year while we were in the local health clinic after Micah had dislocated his shoulder. She recognized right away that we were not Brazilians and that got us to talking. She herself is a very blond haired, blue eyed Sweedish lady and is married to a Brazilian. She has a little boy Adriano and they live about 3 blocks from us. Over the past year we'd bump into one another on the street and a few times she stopped by our house as she was passing by. We ran into one another on the street several months ago and I told her we were moving to a new house and where it was. A few weeks later she stopped by to see the house and to meet Samara. It's always been easy to visit with her and refreshing for me to visit with another women in English. So we chatted and she invited me to stop by her house sometime. I did and we ended up talking for a long time, both of us realizing that we were starving for deeper friendship with another woman. Not that I don't have brazilian ladies that I visit with...but it's still a bit labored to really talk, share our hearts and feel really close. So Linda and I sat and talked about all kinds of things. I learned that her mother is and has been an alcholic for many years, Linda was raised in foster care, and has very little contact with her family. When she was a young teenager she went to church with some friends but had to hide it from her foster mom. Eventually she decided that religion was not for her and has not had any interest since. She met her husband, Marcos, while they were both working in London. Linda was pregnant with Adriano when she and Marcos got together. She often talks about the difficulties she is having raising her son, and the screaming and yelling that goes on in their home. About how she really wants to be a good mom, but that she knows that Adriano is getting out of control. That she and Marcos fight alot. That her mother in law in involved in spiritism...ect One day I was at her house for a visit and she had been telling me about her struggles in her marriage and her frustrations as a mom so I asked if I could pray for her. I prayed for her and her family, that God would bless them and that she and I would be able to be good friends for one another. I also invited her to walk with me two mornings a week and we've been doing that for several weeks now.
A few days ago she asked me to go shopping with her. So we spent the whole morning together and I took her out for lunch. So we're walking around shopping and out of the blue she asks me "do you think people who are Christians have happier marriages and more peace in their homes than non-Christians?" Whoa, where did that come from. I was suprised...I know I shouldn't have been, I'd been praying for opportunity to share the gospel with her for many weeks. I knew that a seed had been planted in her life when she went to church as a girl and several comments she'd made over the past weeks led me to believe that she was/is looking for peace, hope and truth in her life. So here we were digging though a pile of handmade throw rugs and the opportunity drops in my lap. I'd like to say that I launched into an amazing, compelling presentation of the gospel then and there, but I didn't. I hesitated and sent up a prayer for help, wisdom and words. I talked about my marriage and how awesome it is to have Christ as the center of our home and to have a husband who loves the Lord first in his life. Linda looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. She was like " that means nothing to me." "What do you mean Micah loves God more than you." I realized that I was speaking "Christianese", that I was using phrases common to the believer, ideas that most Christians understand. I was talking to her as if we had the same foundation and understanding of who God is. I was not speaking her language. I felt pretty silly (for cryin' out loud I'm a missionary, I should have this down pat) By this time we were sitting down and finishing our lunch. I sent up another prayer for God to speak His words through me. And we started over with much more simply basics. Talking about God, do you believe he exists, who is Jesus and why is he important.... Linda was full of questions, and doubts and anger from how she had been treated by her foster mom for going to church. Full of fear about how her friends in Sweeden would view her if she ever became a Christian. Full of knowledge that her husband has absolutely no interest in spiritual things, and would prefer it if she felt the same way. I asked her if she believes in God. Her answer was that she believes in herself because everyone else disapoints, abandons and lets you down. But she said she'd like to read the Bible if she had one. So we sat and talkeda and talked and talked. I listened a lot. And in the midst of all her doubts and fears there was an open hunger for peace and freedom. She said "I know that my home is without peace." "I know that something is missing in my life." I talked with her about the salvation that is a free gift from God if we believe that Jesus died on the cross and rose again to save us. By this time we were pulling up in front of her gate. We said our goodbyes and promised to continue our conversations on our next walk.
So I've been on my knees a lot these past days, praying for Linda. Praying that the seed that was planted in her life as a young teenager would find suitable soil in which to take root. Praying that no matter how insignificant that little seed of a word of God appears, however feeble its life may seem, however deep it's meaning may be hidden, and however slow it's growth may be that I will trust God that fruit will come. And that I will have the boldness to not make it sound like salvation is just a matter of having a happy home, a better day or joining a new club. But to make a realistic presentation of the gospel. He that has the Son has life. He that has not the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abides on Him. (John 3:36) For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.(John 3:16) That I will show love by saying "Linda, what will you do with the person of Jesus Christ? Your eternal state hinges on your decision. If you receive Him and respond to Him you will be saved, but if you reject Him you will die." This type of presentation makes me super uncomfortable. Part of me says, "be careful, you don't want her to run away", but I feel the Lord really prompting me that she will not appreciate how wonderful Jesus is until she realizes how lost she is. I ask you guys to please be praying for Linda, that the soil of her heart will be plowed deep and that the seed of the word of God will have fertile soil in which to take root and grow. That she will respond to the prompting in her heart and accept the free gift of salvation that is offered and that she and I will be so much more than just friends, that we will become sisters.
This Friday my parents will be arriving from Alaska for a three week visit. You can imagine how excited we are to have them here and how excited they are to meet their first grandchild. We are also looking forward to my friend Kim coming back to see us in July as well as Micah's parents who will be here in August. It's so great to have family and friends come to see us and we are incredibly blessed that they are taking the time and spending the money to get here and spend time with us. We've also been so blessed by all the notes, messages and packages that many of you have sent. Samara has received so many beautiful things and is one well dressed little girl. Micah and I feel so blessed by your outpouring of love for her. We're continually astounded at your generosity, support, prayers and thoughtfulness. We thank you with full hearts for being such important parts of our lives and of the work that God is doing here in Londrina. You guys are so appreciated!
In Him For Him- Micah, Marla & Samara
pictures:
mking brownies: is of Micah making browinies with two boys (Diorgi and Breno) that he is mentoring on Saturday mornings
nene (baby): is of Isabella, a 2 year old at church who just ADORES Samara
the rest I think are self explainatory
************************************Cliff Notes : Lovin' ************************************************************************* *****
This email I talked about how much I'm liking being a Mom, the joys and challenges for me.
I also talked about how God has answered prayers in the evolving and expanding Sunday School program
And I wrote about my new friend Linda, who is a foreigner just like I am and who only live a few blocks away from my house. It's been neat getting to know her and though she is not a Christian she is hungry for Spiritual things.
Prayer Requests
* Thanksgiving for a healthy baby
* Wisdom and sensitivity as I talk with Linda about the Salvation message and as we build our friendship
*Traveling safety and connections for my Parents who are braving a Brazilian bus
* Wisdom for Micah and I as we learn how to balance ministry with family
* Wisdom for Micah as he has new and expanding roles in our church
"I love being a Mom" This is something I said to Micah the other day and it made his favorite moments of the day list. You see every night before we fall asleep Micah and I share our "highlights" of the day. For Micah these highlights are often centered around food and soccer so I was kinda suprised that he remembered that I'd said this and even more so that it made his list. But it really is true that I'm loving being a mom. Sure my days look a whole lot different than they did two months ago, sure I've got these little dried drool patches on the shoulders of my shirts, sure there are burp cloths thrown over the backs of all handy chairs, sure 4:00am and I are pretty well aquainted, sure many of those pre-pregnancy clothes still won't button and sure those curtains I started sewing two months ago are still not finished. But boy oh boy do I have a whole new appreciation for all you moms out there. And we just have one! A pretty cute one if I do say so myself. Samara is such a joy brings so much delight to our home. We love her to pieces!
Our days really do look different. Pretty much from the time we were married up until Samara was born, Micah and I spent the majority of almost every day together. Even here in Brazil we went to work together and were involved in many of the same meetings and ministries of the church. Since Samara's birth I've stepped back from most formal minsitry things at church and pretty much been at home the majority of my days. Micah not only kept up with all his old responsibilities, but he also picked up many new things to help take up some of the slack from where I had been. This has been an adjustment for us, one I don't really think we'd envisioned. We enjoyed spending our days together and working along side one another and we miss it.
We are both still involved in the leadership meetings at church and these usually entail a time of devotions and discussion as well as keeping everyone up to date on the different ministries and activities of the church. One thing that has been a focus in our church body lately has been a course called "Now That I'm a Member." It is designed to help people discover their spiritual gifts, learn about the assets and liabilities of these gifts and find ways to use their gifts within the different ministires of the church. It really is neat to see people understanding more about how God made them and gave them unique gifts as well as seeing them get excited to plug into different ministires.
I have been involved in the childrens ministry from the beginning of our time here and it's something that I really, really enjoy. The kids are just so cute and so excited every week for sunday school. They see us walking to church and come running up to ask "are you our teacher today, what are we learning." Our church building is a big concrete building with particle board dividers at the back for a few offices and two classrooms. Our sunday shool time for kids is during the main service on Sunday nights. Let me just say that someone is always coming into my class and telling us to "SSHHH." We taught the kids all kinds of creative ways to act things out, play games and celebrate without making noise and just using our bodies, arms and legs to cheer and show excitement. Over the last months we've had about 5 teachers rotating through the two classes (3-6 and 7-11 yrs old) and seven teenagers rotating as helpers. With the goal of training these teens to be future teachers, like a kind of teacher mentoring system. Several of our current teachers were wonderful to volunteer simply because there was a need for teachers, but they don't necessarily have a passion and love for teaching kids. The teens have been great helpers and have slowly been given more responsibility during the class time. They kept asking when they could start teaching on their own. So just a few weeks ago we offered a class one Saturday afternoon for anyone who wanted to learn more about teaching Sunday school. We told the teens that if they wanted to be teachers that they needed to come to this training time. A woman who has many years of childrens ministry experience in another church came and spent several hours demonstrating all kinds of creative ways to teach kids, different songs, games, dramas...Well three of our teenagers participated in this class and afterward were totally gung-ho to start teaching. So Elizia (the other lady who coordinates kids stuff at our church) and I decided to "turn them loose" so to speak. So this Sunday night Nathany (16) and Diorgi(13) are each teaching their first class and Elizia and I will be their helpers. I've no doubt that they will do great. They love the kids are are super inspired to have a more permant role as sunday school teachers. It's just been so neat to see them overcome their fears of being in front of the kids. At first most of the helpers seemed to be volunteering just to get out of sitting in the main services. They would pretty much just hand out snacks. But as the weeks went by and they began to get more comfortable and invest more in the younger kids, they slowly added to what they were willing to do, from telling the Bible story to teaching memory verses and leading games. I've really enjoyed getting to know the teenagers more too, they are so much fun and add a lot of creativity to the classes. So I'm pretty proud of Nathany, Diorgi and Thuany for taking the inititive to attend the training and now to become teachers themselves. Elizia and I will be their helpers just the first few times to help with the transtition, so that the little kids know that the teens are "real" teachers and to be respected and listened to. These kids stepping up to be teachers is a big answer to prayer in many ways. Several of our other teachers who have been helping but don't have the passion for teaching will now be free to pursue other areas of minsitry, and the teens who are starting to teach will have great opportunity to exercise their different gifts and abilities in the classroom as well as be role models to the younger kids. There are also several new people who are wanting to help with the kids ministry, so I look forward to seeing how our Sunday School program will be changing in the coming months.
Other big news in my life is that I have a new friend! Linda is a women that Micah and I happened to meet last year while we were in the local health clinic after Micah had dislocated his shoulder. She recognized right away that we were not Brazilians and that got us to talking. She herself is a very blond haired, blue eyed Sweedish lady and is married to a Brazilian. She has a little boy Adriano and they live about 3 blocks from us. Over the past year we'd bump into one another on the street and a few times she stopped by our house as she was passing by. We ran into one another on the street several months ago and I told her we were moving to a new house and where it was. A few weeks later she stopped by to see the house and to meet Samara. It's always been easy to visit with her and refreshing for me to visit with another women in English. So we chatted and she invited me to stop by her house sometime. I did and we ended up talking for a long time, both of us realizing that we were starving for deeper friendship with another woman. Not that I don't have brazilian ladies that I visit with...but it's still a bit labored to really talk, share our hearts and feel really close. So Linda and I sat and talked about all kinds of things. I learned that her mother is and has been an alcholic for many years, Linda was raised in foster care, and has very little contact with her family. When she was a young teenager she went to church with some friends but had to hide it from her foster mom. Eventually she decided that religion was not for her and has not had any interest since. She met her husband, Marcos, while they were both working in London. Linda was pregnant with Adriano when she and Marcos got together. She often talks about the difficulties she is having raising her son, and the screaming and yelling that goes on in their home. About how she really wants to be a good mom, but that she knows that Adriano is getting out of control. That she and Marcos fight alot. That her mother in law in involved in spiritism...ect One day I was at her house for a visit and she had been telling me about her struggles in her marriage and her frustrations as a mom so I asked if I could pray for her. I prayed for her and her family, that God would bless them and that she and I would be able to be good friends for one another. I also invited her to walk with me two mornings a week and we've been doing that for several weeks now.
A few days ago she asked me to go shopping with her. So we spent the whole morning together and I took her out for lunch. So we're walking around shopping and out of the blue she asks me "do you think people who are Christians have happier marriages and more peace in their homes than non-Christians?" Whoa, where did that come from. I was suprised...I know I shouldn't have been, I'd been praying for opportunity to share the gospel with her for many weeks. I knew that a seed had been planted in her life when she went to church as a girl and several comments she'd made over the past weeks led me to believe that she was/is looking for peace, hope and truth in her life. So here we were digging though a pile of handmade throw rugs and the opportunity drops in my lap. I'd like to say that I launched into an amazing, compelling presentation of the gospel then and there, but I didn't. I hesitated and sent up a prayer for help, wisdom and words. I talked about my marriage and how awesome it is to have Christ as the center of our home and to have a husband who loves the Lord first in his life. Linda looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. She was like " that means nothing to me." "What do you mean Micah loves God more than you." I realized that I was speaking "Christianese", that I was using phrases common to the believer, ideas that most Christians understand. I was talking to her as if we had the same foundation and understanding of who God is. I was not speaking her language. I felt pretty silly (for cryin' out loud I'm a missionary, I should have this down pat) By this time we were sitting down and finishing our lunch. I sent up another prayer for God to speak His words through me. And we started over with much more simply basics. Talking about God, do you believe he exists, who is Jesus and why is he important.... Linda was full of questions, and doubts and anger from how she had been treated by her foster mom for going to church. Full of fear about how her friends in Sweeden would view her if she ever became a Christian. Full of knowledge that her husband has absolutely no interest in spiritual things, and would prefer it if she felt the same way. I asked her if she believes in God. Her answer was that she believes in herself because everyone else disapoints, abandons and lets you down. But she said she'd like to read the Bible if she had one. So we sat and talkeda and talked and talked. I listened a lot. And in the midst of all her doubts and fears there was an open hunger for peace and freedom. She said "I know that my home is without peace." "I know that something is missing in my life." I talked with her about the salvation that is a free gift from God if we believe that Jesus died on the cross and rose again to save us. By this time we were pulling up in front of her gate. We said our goodbyes and promised to continue our conversations on our next walk.
So I've been on my knees a lot these past days, praying for Linda. Praying that the seed that was planted in her life as a young teenager would find suitable soil in which to take root. Praying that no matter how insignificant that little seed of a word of God appears, however feeble its life may seem, however deep it's meaning may be hidden, and however slow it's growth may be that I will trust God that fruit will come. And that I will have the boldness to not make it sound like salvation is just a matter of having a happy home, a better day or joining a new club. But to make a realistic presentation of the gospel. He that has the Son has life. He that has not the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abides on Him. (John 3:36) For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.(John 3:16) That I will show love by saying "Linda, what will you do with the person of Jesus Christ? Your eternal state hinges on your decision. If you receive Him and respond to Him you will be saved, but if you reject Him you will die." This type of presentation makes me super uncomfortable. Part of me says, "be careful, you don't want her to run away", but I feel the Lord really prompting me that she will not appreciate how wonderful Jesus is until she realizes how lost she is. I ask you guys to please be praying for Linda, that the soil of her heart will be plowed deep and that the seed of the word of God will have fertile soil in which to take root and grow. That she will respond to the prompting in her heart and accept the free gift of salvation that is offered and that she and I will be so much more than just friends, that we will become sisters.
This Friday my parents will be arriving from Alaska for a three week visit. You can imagine how excited we are to have them here and how excited they are to meet their first grandchild. We are also looking forward to my friend Kim coming back to see us in July as well as Micah's parents who will be here in August. It's so great to have family and friends come to see us and we are incredibly blessed that they are taking the time and spending the money to get here and spend time with us. We've also been so blessed by all the notes, messages and packages that many of you have sent. Samara has received so many beautiful things and is one well dressed little girl. Micah and I feel so blessed by your outpouring of love for her. We're continually astounded at your generosity, support, prayers and thoughtfulness. We thank you with full hearts for being such important parts of our lives and of the work that God is doing here in Londrina. You guys are so appreciated!
In Him For Him- Micah, Marla & Samara
pictures:
mking brownies: is of Micah making browinies with two boys (Diorgi and Breno) that he is mentoring on Saturday mornings
nene (baby): is of Isabella, a 2 year old at church who just ADORES Samara
the rest I think are self explainatory
************************************Cliff Notes : Lovin' ************************************************************************* *****
This email I talked about how much I'm liking being a Mom, the joys and challenges for me.
I also talked about how God has answered prayers in the evolving and expanding Sunday School program
And I wrote about my new friend Linda, who is a foreigner just like I am and who only live a few blocks away from my house. It's been neat getting to know her and though she is not a Christian she is hungry for Spiritual things.
Prayer Requests
* Thanksgiving for a healthy baby
* Wisdom and sensitivity as I talk with Linda about the Salvation message and as we build our friendship
*Traveling safety and connections for my Parents who are braving a Brazilian bus
* Wisdom for Micah and I as we learn how to balance ministry with family
* Wisdom for Micah as he has new and expanding roles in our church
Jan 16, 2007 - this Philistine
*************No Cliffnotes, Just Micah writting about finding courage to engage in spiritual battles********************************
"Oh, but you're a Routon" they used to say as we were growing up. It was a phrase used by our friends in high school to explain how come my brother and I never really got hurt. It wasn't that we played it safe either. Since we were born there has been a vein of adventure running through our very being. Growing us we tried every form of cheap extreme sports that we could think of. We jumped off of everything we could climb, from buildings to cliffs to bridges. I even remember once at a family camp when I was about 11, directing classes for some younger friends of ours how to jump off of the roof of a building and land 'safely' in the sand of the playground below, when their parents rounded the corner. My mom tells stories to this day of how shortly after we had learned to walk, she found us sitting on top of a swing set more than 10 feet off the ground. I guess Aaron and I didn't always grow up with a proper level of fear. And I'm not writing this with any form of conceit, fear can be a good thing. It's just that we never really got hurt, so we never really had a reason to fear.
Now before you start thinking that such a pain tolerance must have been great in sports, let me explain something. Though God blessed us with an ability to escape injury, we were not blessed with what coaches call "coordination." Determination, strength, and a decent level of speed we had...but coordination...forget it. In 7th grade basketball, though I could run the court all day long, I could not quite ever get the ball through the hoop. My sophomore year in high school, I made the varsity soccer team (quite an accomplishment for a sophomore). Though I sat the bench alot that year, when my coach would finally put me in, his last minute instructions to me weren't: "score a goal, make good passes, or use your head," but instead "establish a presence." So in I'd run, chasing the ball as hard as I could, usually knocking someone down in the process. It wasn't that I meant to mind you, it just seemed to happen. I'd like to say that being in Brazil has changed all of this, that my soccer skills have developed to such a point that I now play with what they call "finesse," but that wouldn't quite be true. My skills have developed, and I do score alot more goals, but one of my Brazilian friends recently told me that I play like a truck without brakes. So when I'm picked for our weekly games, deep down, I'm not sure if it's because they want me to score goals, or if they don't want to get hurt. But they keep playing and I haven't sent any of my friends to the hospital since college.
But growing up, this fuzzy line between fear and wrecklesness carried into some other areas of life as well. From driving to my spiritual life, I have never felt hindered by what some would call "reality." But then slowly things started to change. When I was starting to surf, I was never afraid of the big waves until I watched Aaron get sucked out to sea during an Oregon storm, and he disappeared from sight for more than 2 minutes. I was never afraid of jumping off of things until a bad water landing from a 90ft bridge kept me from walking for a couple of weeks, and running for months. I was never afraid of trying new tricks on my roller blades until I lost 2 front teeth and messed up my wrists for years. Now my toes hurt weekly from soccer, I've got a permanent lump from a dislocated shoulder, and to top it all off I now use reading glasses. All this before I'm thirty.
Marla says, I've finally gotten smarter. Like when we are at the beach this past December, we decided not to surf at the beach that had bone crushing waves. Aaron eve decided to check the depth of some water BEFORE jumping in. I don't know. This contrast was brought to light this past weekend when I was hanging out with a 12 year old boy. He was on his bike riding wheelies down the street, and climbing to sit at the top of various public workout equipment, while I was busy telling stories of what I used to do when I was growing up. "I used to...", used to. Have I now become "a used to." Now to be honest the physical implications of the question doesn't worry me. I know I'm getting older and need to take care of myself, it's the spiritual implication that have me thinking.
Just as things happened physically that made me stop and think, so too have things happened spiritually that have effected me more than I first had first thought. One was last year. I started an accountability group with about 3 other guys. It was a great time when we would come together weekly, be completely honest with one another, encourage each other, and uphold each other in prayer. These 3 guys were either young believers, or newly recommitted believers. But then the world and it's cares came and started to choke the new spiritual life of 2 of these three. It's funny reading the Bible. In Jesus's parable of the sower, the seed lands on 4 very different types of soil. What is interesting is that 3 or the 4 types receive the Word of God (we might call this 'conversion'). But of the 3 types of soil that receive the Word, only 1 actually reproduces in any significant way. As people working in churches we hope and even expect that every new convert will be this 4rth type of soil. And when things don't turn out like we expect we become disappointed and discouraged. And so it happened with me. Last May I left Brasil with 1 of my 3 avoiding the rest of our group as well as the rest of the church. By the time I got back in September another one had left the church, not involved anywhere else. I know these aren't my guys, they belong to God, but gosh, I had seen their hearts, I had seen their desire to serve, I had seen how they were willing to take a stand for Jesus, only for the devil to trip them up. And it's not just that either, there are other things too. Being married has changed things a bit, and I imagine have children will change things even more. Now my wife is amazing, and her parents have raised he to know her provision comes from the Lord, but living with the "I'll go anywhere, anytime" mind set has gotten more complicated for me. Since being in Brazil I have also seen the power of macumba (witchcraft). 'Storming hells gates' was alot more romantic to talk about before I saw people I knew suffering physically and emotionally the effects of evil incantations.
Just as there is a line between fearless and wrecklesness, there exists a line between having a healthy respect of something and fearing that thing. So when 2 of the original 3 in my guys group asked me to start the group again, even enlarging it, I had to face this fear. Fear of what? Fear of something happening. Fear of leading some into a deeper spiritual existence where they and their family will be attacked, fear of seeing some fall. But the God we serve is not a God of fear, but a God of boldness and of courage. So what difference does courage make anyway? Is not the situation the same whether you have fear or have courage? Let me illustrate this with a story that came from this week's sermon. This story is found in the book of 1 Samuel. The setting: early in the kingdom of Israel. Saul is the king, and you have two opposing armies camped on opposite hills with a valley in between. Everyday a giant name Goliath comes out and demeans the Israeli army. A small shepherd boy arrives on the scene appalled at the audacity of this giant, and faces him in battle. The bible says that after he chose 5 smooth stones, and exchanged some words with the giant he "ran to the battle line." We all know what happened next, he killed the giant. But what really happened to the two armies? From a strategic point of view, their situation changed very little. One less giant on one side, and a small shepherd holding the head of Goliath on the other, but strategically very little changed ...but courage arrived, and it was contagious. The whole Israeli army raced through the valley to the other camp, destroying the Philistine army. What changed? Courage arrived.
Just as fear is contagious, courage is also contagious. One of my favorite happenings of the Bible is also about David. There he was rejected by his king, running for his life, and the down and out people of society started to be drawn to him. The Bible describes the scene in 1 Sam 22:1-2 as "David left Gath and escaped to the cave of Adullam. When his brothers and his father's household heard about it they went down there. All those who were in distress or in debt or discontented gathered around him, and he (David) became their leader." Sounds like a real group of winners huh? But they rallied around David, they rallied around his God. And do you know what became of group of distressed, indebted, discontented men? They became known as David's mighty men. In time, they themselves would kill giants and defy entire armies, and single handily kill 300 men with one spear. Courage is contagious.
And today do we serve a different God than that of David. Is our God any less able to do the impossible? Any less ready? So why then do we fear? We fear because will focus more on our situation than on God. In our story of David and Goliath, listen where David's focus was: 1 Sam 17:36 "Your servant has killed both the lion and the bear; this uncircumcised Philistine will be like on of them, because he has defied the armies of the living God. The Lord who delivered me from the paw of the lion and the paw of the bear, will deliver me from the hand of this Philistine." David never even gives the giant a name...he just calls him "this Philistine."
His size of his faith had nothing to do with the size of his problem. In fact you could say that the size of his faith could only be measured by the size of his problem. And so it is with us.
So the business with this guys group; I would ask for your prayers. I would also ask for your continued prayers for Marla and I down here. Having a "healthy respect" for this type of warfare means we know that battles are won on our knees, and on your knees. We covet every prayer offered up, and will keep you posted on requests for prayer. And if the tone of this e-mail started in an air of fear it let it now end with a sense of confidence because the God we serve is a big God, eternal and never changing.
"Oh, but you're a Routon" they used to say as we were growing up. It was a phrase used by our friends in high school to explain how come my brother and I never really got hurt. It wasn't that we played it safe either. Since we were born there has been a vein of adventure running through our very being. Growing us we tried every form of cheap extreme sports that we could think of. We jumped off of everything we could climb, from buildings to cliffs to bridges. I even remember once at a family camp when I was about 11, directing classes for some younger friends of ours how to jump off of the roof of a building and land 'safely' in the sand of the playground below, when their parents rounded the corner. My mom tells stories to this day of how shortly after we had learned to walk, she found us sitting on top of a swing set more than 10 feet off the ground. I guess Aaron and I didn't always grow up with a proper level of fear. And I'm not writing this with any form of conceit, fear can be a good thing. It's just that we never really got hurt, so we never really had a reason to fear.
Now before you start thinking that such a pain tolerance must have been great in sports, let me explain something. Though God blessed us with an ability to escape injury, we were not blessed with what coaches call "coordination." Determination, strength, and a decent level of speed we had...but coordination...forget it. In 7th grade basketball, though I could run the court all day long, I could not quite ever get the ball through the hoop. My sophomore year in high school, I made the varsity soccer team (quite an accomplishment for a sophomore). Though I sat the bench alot that year, when my coach would finally put me in, his last minute instructions to me weren't: "score a goal, make good passes, or use your head," but instead "establish a presence." So in I'd run, chasing the ball as hard as I could, usually knocking someone down in the process. It wasn't that I meant to mind you, it just seemed to happen. I'd like to say that being in Brazil has changed all of this, that my soccer skills have developed to such a point that I now play with what they call "finesse," but that wouldn't quite be true. My skills have developed, and I do score alot more goals, but one of my Brazilian friends recently told me that I play like a truck without brakes. So when I'm picked for our weekly games, deep down, I'm not sure if it's because they want me to score goals, or if they don't want to get hurt. But they keep playing and I haven't sent any of my friends to the hospital since college.
But growing up, this fuzzy line between fear and wrecklesness carried into some other areas of life as well. From driving to my spiritual life, I have never felt hindered by what some would call "reality." But then slowly things started to change. When I was starting to surf, I was never afraid of the big waves until I watched Aaron get sucked out to sea during an Oregon storm, and he disappeared from sight for more than 2 minutes. I was never afraid of jumping off of things until a bad water landing from a 90ft bridge kept me from walking for a couple of weeks, and running for months. I was never afraid of trying new tricks on my roller blades until I lost 2 front teeth and messed up my wrists for years. Now my toes hurt weekly from soccer, I've got a permanent lump from a dislocated shoulder, and to top it all off I now use reading glasses. All this before I'm thirty.
Marla says, I've finally gotten smarter. Like when we are at the beach this past December, we decided not to surf at the beach that had bone crushing waves. Aaron eve decided to check the depth of some water BEFORE jumping in. I don't know. This contrast was brought to light this past weekend when I was hanging out with a 12 year old boy. He was on his bike riding wheelies down the street, and climbing to sit at the top of various public workout equipment, while I was busy telling stories of what I used to do when I was growing up. "I used to...", used to. Have I now become "a used to." Now to be honest the physical implications of the question doesn't worry me. I know I'm getting older and need to take care of myself, it's the spiritual implication that have me thinking.
Just as things happened physically that made me stop and think, so too have things happened spiritually that have effected me more than I first had first thought. One was last year. I started an accountability group with about 3 other guys. It was a great time when we would come together weekly, be completely honest with one another, encourage each other, and uphold each other in prayer. These 3 guys were either young believers, or newly recommitted believers. But then the world and it's cares came and started to choke the new spiritual life of 2 of these three. It's funny reading the Bible. In Jesus's parable of the sower, the seed lands on 4 very different types of soil. What is interesting is that 3 or the 4 types receive the Word of God (we might call this 'conversion'). But of the 3 types of soil that receive the Word, only 1 actually reproduces in any significant way. As people working in churches we hope and even expect that every new convert will be this 4rth type of soil. And when things don't turn out like we expect we become disappointed and discouraged. And so it happened with me. Last May I left Brasil with 1 of my 3 avoiding the rest of our group as well as the rest of the church. By the time I got back in September another one had left the church, not involved anywhere else. I know these aren't my guys, they belong to God, but gosh, I had seen their hearts, I had seen their desire to serve, I had seen how they were willing to take a stand for Jesus, only for the devil to trip them up. And it's not just that either, there are other things too. Being married has changed things a bit, and I imagine have children will change things even more. Now my wife is amazing, and her parents have raised he to know her provision comes from the Lord, but living with the "I'll go anywhere, anytime" mind set has gotten more complicated for me. Since being in Brazil I have also seen the power of macumba (witchcraft). 'Storming hells gates' was alot more romantic to talk about before I saw people I knew suffering physically and emotionally the effects of evil incantations.
Just as there is a line between fearless and wrecklesness, there exists a line between having a healthy respect of something and fearing that thing. So when 2 of the original 3 in my guys group asked me to start the group again, even enlarging it, I had to face this fear. Fear of what? Fear of something happening. Fear of leading some into a deeper spiritual existence where they and their family will be attacked, fear of seeing some fall. But the God we serve is not a God of fear, but a God of boldness and of courage. So what difference does courage make anyway? Is not the situation the same whether you have fear or have courage? Let me illustrate this with a story that came from this week's sermon. This story is found in the book of 1 Samuel. The setting: early in the kingdom of Israel. Saul is the king, and you have two opposing armies camped on opposite hills with a valley in between. Everyday a giant name Goliath comes out and demeans the Israeli army. A small shepherd boy arrives on the scene appalled at the audacity of this giant, and faces him in battle. The bible says that after he chose 5 smooth stones, and exchanged some words with the giant he "ran to the battle line." We all know what happened next, he killed the giant. But what really happened to the two armies? From a strategic point of view, their situation changed very little. One less giant on one side, and a small shepherd holding the head of Goliath on the other, but strategically very little changed ...but courage arrived, and it was contagious. The whole Israeli army raced through the valley to the other camp, destroying the Philistine army. What changed? Courage arrived.
Just as fear is contagious, courage is also contagious. One of my favorite happenings of the Bible is also about David. There he was rejected by his king, running for his life, and the down and out people of society started to be drawn to him. The Bible describes the scene in 1 Sam 22:1-2 as "David left Gath and escaped to the cave of Adullam. When his brothers and his father's household heard about it they went down there. All those who were in distress or in debt or discontented gathered around him, and he (David) became their leader." Sounds like a real group of winners huh? But they rallied around David, they rallied around his God. And do you know what became of group of distressed, indebted, discontented men? They became known as David's mighty men. In time, they themselves would kill giants and defy entire armies, and single handily kill 300 men with one spear. Courage is contagious.
And today do we serve a different God than that of David. Is our God any less able to do the impossible? Any less ready? So why then do we fear? We fear because will focus more on our situation than on God. In our story of David and Goliath, listen where David's focus was: 1 Sam 17:36 "Your servant has killed both the lion and the bear; this uncircumcised Philistine will be like on of them, because he has defied the armies of the living God. The Lord who delivered me from the paw of the lion and the paw of the bear, will deliver me from the hand of this Philistine." David never even gives the giant a name...he just calls him "this Philistine."
His size of his faith had nothing to do with the size of his problem. In fact you could say that the size of his faith could only be measured by the size of his problem. And so it is with us.
So the business with this guys group; I would ask for your prayers. I would also ask for your continued prayers for Marla and I down here. Having a "healthy respect" for this type of warfare means we know that battles are won on our knees, and on your knees. We covet every prayer offered up, and will keep you posted on requests for prayer. And if the tone of this e-mail started in an air of fear it let it now end with a sense of confidence because the God we serve is a big God, eternal and never changing.
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