Being the Church

I don't have any amusing anecdotes today about animals -- sorry. Lately I've been thinking about the American Church. One of the most incredible and the most discouraging aspects of trying to get to the mission field involves the Church.

Let's start with the positives. It is amazing to meet so many wonderful people who comprise the Body of Christ. People who love the Lord, who earnestly seek to live their lives in His love and grace and truth, and people who have a deep understanding of what we're doing and why we're doing it. I cannot fully explain what an incredible experience this is, and it's something that we could only experience doing what we're doing.

So, let's explore the Church's lack of vision. As I began to grow in my faith, and wanted to do more to serve others in the Name of Christ, I figured that this service would be in the American context. My own attitude mirrored the attitudes we come across now: why go to a foreign country when there's so much that needs to be done here? I used to believe that. I used to think that, especially with the expansion of the International Church, foreign missions was a romantic but outdated vocation.

Jesus has a beautiful sense of humor -- perfect in fact.

I suppose He figured my attitude into the equation when He called me to marry a man deeply in love with Germany, and then clearly led us into this process into foreign missions. God has clearly led us to Germany, and since He prepares my path before me, I can only conclude that God must have specific work for us to do there -- work that He has prepared in advance for us to do. So now as my heart has become increasingly burdened for the German people who don't know the Lord, and as I am convinced that foreign missions is still a necessary and viable vocation, I constantly come across my previous attitude manifested in so many others.

I try not to be offended or impatient. And recently as I was meditating on these issues, I began to ponder why foreign missions had been so socially acceptable at one point in time. And why is it seen as abandoning your own country now? I came to this realization: there are hundreds of thousands or millions (?) of churches, church plants, church home groups, Bible studies, and general gatherings of Christian fellowship. With this many people professing Christianity as their faith of choice, it should be okay for Kevin and I to go to another country and be a light for Christ in a dark place. There are enough people here professing Christian faith to be the Church to America.

There's also the financial aspect that has been discouraging. Kevin and I read a recent statistic that on the average in America, 95% of a church's funds go towards its maintenance of facility and staff. Now, that leaves 5% to go to outreach, and that just makes me sad.

I know, I know... this is an often visited issue by some of us -- and one that many people don't want to really take a look at. It's an issue I didn't want to take a look at for a time, but I can't help but think of it almost every day now as we are swimming upstream against the current of American Christianity.

Thank you !!! To the hundreds of individuals who believe in what we're doing!!! Who never cease to encourage us!!! You who have helped us along this journey!!! And to those of you who are stepping out and being the Church in this increasingly dark country -- May God bless your work!

And in case you didn't read my husband's similar blog, here's an incredible quote by Carlo Corretto -- an author I admire greatly:

How baffling you are, oh Church, and yet how I love you! How you have made me suffer, and yet how much I owe you! I should like to see you destroyed, and yet I need your presence. You have given me so much scandal and yet you have made me understand sanctity. I have seen nothing in the world more devoted to obscurity, more compromised, more false, and I have touched nothing more pure, more generous, more beautiful. How often I have wanted to shut the doors of my soul in your face, and how often I have prayed to die in the safety of your arms. No, I cannot free myself from you, because I am you, although not completely. And where should I go?

Turkey of Liberty?

For the 4 people that read my blog: sorry I haven't written in awhile. I was just too afraid that I wouldn't be able to top the Bear blog. In a haze of cold medicine and a lack of sleep the following came to.

So being Veteran's Day recently and just having been around our nation's capital, I've been meditating on the symbols of our nation. Yesterday Kevin and I walked around DC, and visited the WWII memorial. It was a very honorable memorial. Part of the memorial involves ginormous eagles carrying laurel wreaths of olive branches -- you know, for peace. There are eagles everywhere throughout the Mall. And usually they look fierce, and a perhaps a little mean.

This led me to think, naturally... why can't our national symbol be something friendly and approachable, like a koala bear or a puppy? I can feel the recriminating statements rising from your throats -- don't worry, 2 seconds after saying this out loud to my husband, and receiving his laughter of ludicrosity, I realized how ridiculous that would be.

1) When you've got as much going as our country does internationally, it probably doesn't hurt to have a national symbol that looks like it would gladly peck your eyes out.
2) The eagle really is majestic kind of animal.
3) The koala bear? That animal is in no way indigenous to our large and spacious nation.

This did get me thinking -- in all of my rambling range of thoughts (remember, the cold medicine and lack of sleep), what would have happened if our forefathers had chosen the turkey as our national symbol instead of the bald eagle, as they were tempted to do? How do you make turkeys look fierce or respectable at the UN? And the real question behind this rambling is: for Thanksgiving would we eat bald eagles?

Happy Thanksgiving everybody!!

Look Out Kids! There's a Bear on the Loose!

First of all I’d like to dedicate this post to Tom & Amanda Crandall, my friends from Alaska. Through their influence and guidance, I’ve learned most of what I know about bears. The rest of what I know has come from reading the Berenstein Bears as a child.

(Side note: From the Berenstein Bears I’ve learned the following things):

1. Bears eat honey.
2. Bears like to have adventures.
3. Bears go to doctors too.
4. Bears learn moral lessons from their mistakes.

So there’s a black bear loose somewhere in Tuscawaras County here in Ohio. That’s not normal. This isn’t “Bear Country”. First this curious little fellow was seen roaming the local streets of New Philadelphia, Ohio -- a sizable town in its own right. Next, he was spotted running through the local park – a favorite play area for children, with pool, carousel, rides, playgrounds. Then the bear was seen at the local beach at Atwood Lake, just a hop-skip-and-a-jump from our house!! That brazen bear swam across the lake and disappeared into the surrounding public forest. That made us all a little nervous. Our farm boundaries lie on the Tuscarawas/Carroll County border. So that freaking bear could show up any time on our doorstep. It doesn’t bode well that the guy over the hill from us raises honey bees!!! Holy Majoly!! Is anyone else sensing why 2+2 = bear here?!!!

Then there was silence…. No bear sightings. Nothing.

And then all of a sudden the bear was seen hanging out at the New Philadelphia high school. Again, that’s where children are. I think we can all agree that no one wants to see the bear hurt or hunted down. I have a great respect for bears myself –especially after watching “Grizzly Man” and seeing how they eat people. But why, and I ask this with all respect, CAN’T ANYONE FIND THE FREAKING BEAR???? I mean he was just out at the high school last week, we know he’s around!
Kevin and I have been discussing this for weeks. We expect to be seeing him very soon, in the front window of our favorite coffee shop, drinking a macchiato and reading the New York Times. Stranger things have happened I guess.

(2^nd Side note: I drive back and forth from Tuscarawas/Carroll Counties almost every day. I almost ran over a fox 2 weeks ago, sadly I did maim a baby bunny, and I just have a lingering feeling that some foggy evening as I’m driving home from work --- I’m going to hit the bear. I’m going to be responsible for killing the bear. I hate killing animals. Ask Kevin, I was crying after I hit the bunny. I can see it now in my mind: I hit the bear. The local T.V. crews are interviewing me, and the only words I can utter are, “…I can’t believe I hit the bear….”)

Look, all I’m saying is that I would really like it if someone, who has official bear-catching capabilities, would find the bear and remove him to a more bear-appropriate place (before I inadvertently hit him with my car). Perhaps Alaska?....

Nature Meets A Garden Hoe

So, our family was enjoying a peaceful evening out on the back patio earlier this week. We were eating pie, because my mom is amazing and makes pies very regularly. As we were talking we gradually became aware of some very angry twittering going on in the tree beside us. All mom says: "The wrens are angry about something." As the twittering, fails to subside, we go out and begin to look around the wren's bird house. Sadly, there was the last 1/3 of a black snake hanging out of the bird house entrance. My first reaction was to yell loudly for my dad, which I did. It was interesting how we began to work as a team to get the snake out of the house, and hopefully prevent any eating of the wren babies. Dad went to get the necessary tools, but I saw that he had neglected to get, in my mind at least the most crucial of snake tools, the snake noose.

Yes, we have a snake noose. There is a long legacy in my family of snake disdaining and snake disposal, and sometime during my childhood my dad felt it would be an asset to have an actual noose. So he made one, and we do use it. But I digress...

So back to the snake story at hand. My dad takes the house down and begins to dissemble it, inevitably forcing the snake to leave the house. My dad was waiting with the garden hoe. The snake didn't make it. Afterwards, my dad felt kind of bad. Black snakes are really good to have around. The eat rodents and other wily small creatures, but they also eat baby birds. There's one thing my mom can't abide -- snakes in our house or in the bird's house.

So hopefully that was our snake adventure for the summer. Usually there's one a year. There's an infamous story about my mom and the snake that dared dome into the house during my sister's wedding preparation. It wasn't pretty. My mom found it in our bathroom closet, and as she startled it by coming into the room, it began to descend down the hole from whence it came. She, being under a great deal of stress from wedding things, had had enough. She grabbed the snake and pulled hard.

Now, some of you may know that snakes' scales cling very hard to surfaces. It's really hard to get them off of something they've attached themselves to. That big black snake was no match for my mom, though. She pulled hard, and scales came flying off, and that snake was hers. Now some of you have met my mom. She's great -- the most graceful, loving, sweet, motherly mom you'll ever find. We all saw another side of her that day though. She marched down to the garage to find my dad, snake in hand. She flung it at his feet, and declared that if he didn't dispose of that snake she was going to get out her scissors and cut it into a million pieces. To this day, my dad swears all he heard was undiscernable angry noises coming from her lips. We laugh about it now...

Any way, I know they serve a grand purpose in the nature cycle. But I think snakes are icky.

down on the farm

Since living back at the King farm where I grew up, I've been enjoying the spring. I love the farm, and today was an especially beautiful day. Everything is lush and green against a deep blue sky, and there was a bold breeze rustling the leaves and bringing the scents of clover, mint, and sweet hay grasses.

So much has happened since we moved back here. Being in the same places I used to roam as a child, and now looking on them with 20 additional years has shown me that some things never change. Some things do though, and some things still need the touch of change. And I've realized that just in the last year I've had to grow up in so many ways.

Since we've begun this process towards the mission field, I've had to lay aside my desire of pleasing everyone. I've also had to let go of any care of what people think of me. And when some whom I love don't understand why we're doing this, I feel like I'm failing them greatly. I've had to let that go, and some days it feels like some deep part of my soul is being ripped out because I've yearned so long for their approval. Dying to the self. Knowing that Christ need be my only source of approval and acceptance. Lessons I've not truly learned until now. Thanks be to God.

But I'm finding there's a part of me that doesn't necessarily need to grow up. The part of me that skips and dances when no one's looking, picks flowers for my mom, laughs gleefully as the lambs race around, twirls around under the big maple tree, and loves happy endings. I'm just fine keeping that part of me the same.

Oh yeah... I have a blog...

That thought has crossed my mind once or twice in these several weeks since I wrote my very first blog. I almost forgot what I named it. That's not a promising sign. Sorry, to you all who've been waiting for more! And thank you Mr. Burly for your blogging etiquette advice, I took it to heart. However, I hope you don't mind my often use of symbols, such as -- and ... .

Anyhoo... Kevin and I began our first, official diet together. We don't make good food choices, or exercise appropriate portion control. But I think that the root of it all, is that we simply love food. The tastes, smells, sights, and preparations that go into a meal are a real joy for us.

We gave up breads and refined sugars. So, I've been eating a lot of salad lately -- which, with the right salad dressing, can be a marvelous thing. But I find myself dreaming of McDonald's french fries. Often.

I've done a little research on the topic of dieting over the years, being interested in helping the individuals who go to extremes, and it amazes me how many people are consumed with the desire to look differently. Almost everyone falls into this category, myself included. So now that we've entered this arena, I'm getting a personal perspective on the mindsets, restrictions, rewards, and travails of dieting.

I'll write more later. This artificially flavored chocolate rice cake is calling my name, and it's going to be yummy...

Ponderings On The Beginning

I've considered creating a blog for quite sometime now. The reason I haven't -- I couldn't come up with a blog name that I liked. Silly I know, but the truth. So today as I was thinking, it came to me -- model of redemption. There's a phrase that I think of often. "I'm not a model of perfection, but a model of redemption." I would love to be perfect, and do everything as I ought to do. But I don't. I mess up often, and that phrase reminds me that it's okay that I'm not perfect. I'm not supposed to be.

What's more is that God knows I'm going to mess up, and the amazing part of that is -- He still cherishes me. When I mess up, He sets my feet back in the right direction. When my heart is broken, He binds my wounds. I am a model of redemption, because of His love and grace.

So, that's the story behind my blog name. As I write, that will be a recurring theme. Let this online blog-o-rama begin!