Joy and Resolve

My Dad lost his job last week. He was hoping to bank in one and a half more years for a retirement package. Nope. He'll get a small severance, but nothing like he would've had. He'll soon be a part of Rhode Island's 10% unemployment rate.

Paul and I splurged Friday on a dinner out. We strolled right on in, along with a party of thirteen, and were surrounded by empty tables. Normally, this place would've had a 90 min wait. Our waitress said that the economy is crushing them.

Our nation's financial plunge is pretty scary. Yet despite the recession, Compassion International's giving is up. More children are being sponsored now than ever.

What?

Paul stumbled on these quotes the other day from Francis Chan.

"In this universe, there is God, there are people, and there are things. We should worship God, love people, and use things. But if we start worshiping ourselves, we will ignore God, start loving things, and using people. This is a formula for a miserable life, but it characterizes many people today."

Okay, frankly, this often characterizes me. But I think I'm finally starting to get it. Well, maybe just a little. And based on Compassion's financial reports, I would say that I'm not the only one.

Is our economy causing us to get priorities back in order again? God, people, things? In Deuteronomy 10:21, it says, "He is your praise; he is your God." Our praise who becomes our love who becomes our life, lived out in the small things...

With Christmas music already cranking in the retail stores, I'm so hoping we'll approach the birthday of a King with great joy and great resolve. Joy to celebrate. Resolve to worship just One.

And as we worship, may we love others with the treasures we have received. Whether that be our own tikes or that waitress who is pulling a double or those Compassion children still waiting for a sponsor.

May the world see that He is our praise. He is our God. Yep, even in a financial meltdown.

Bailout Plan

Loved loved loved this post by Tim Glenn. It was posted on Compassion's blog. If you don't sponsor a child from Compassion, please consider doing so today. It sure does mean the world to us. I can't imagine them. Here is what he had to say:

“It’s extraordinary to me that the United States can find $700 billion to save Wall Street and the entire G8 can’t find $25 billion dollars to save 25,000 children who die every day from preventable diseases.” –Bono.

I don’t mean to make light of the current economic crisis in the United States, but there’s a part of me that wonders if we don’t deserve this.

As a country, we have been getting fat and lazy while two thirds of the world struggles just to stay alive. Not all of us, mind you, but collectively — as a country — we’re complaining not because we can’t survive but because our luxuries cost us more than we want to spend.

We want cheap gas and “affordable” four-bedroom homes. We want 200 channels on television and to be able to go out to eat two or three times a week.

As Americans, many of us believe we deserve those things. There’s a sense of entitlement. Meanwhile, on the other side of this tiny little planet of ours, someone is praying, pleading to God for a slice of bread.

So our government is working on a bailout plan. How can we maintain the “American way of life” without suffering the consequences of our decisions? A loan. We’ll loan ourselves money and turn a blind eye to the root causes of greed and selfishness.

We do that so well, don’t we? We attack problems by trying to change the circumstances, instead of battling the root causes. I know I’ve done it in my own life, so this is as much an indictment on me as it is on anyone else.

Then I start to think about the poor.

What is the bailout plan for that family living on less than $2 a day in a developing country? The family who struggles not with wants for luxury but needs for survival. Who will bail them out?

The answer, oddly enough, is us. Yes, the same “us” that’s struggling in the midst of this economic downturn. When our economy is bad, it trickles down to the poorest of the poor.

Higher food costs and fuel prices mean their $2 a day doesn’t go nearly as far. We have to look beyond ourselves, now more than ever, to be the church God intended us to be.

The Church is God’s bailout plan for the poor....

I’m not saying we should throw money at poverty and turn a blind eye to its root causes. I understand why Bono is frustrated over the lack of funds, I really do. But money alone won’t stop poverty.

It goes deeper than that. Besides, I think the Church can do better than any government. We understand the spiritual implications that despair and hopelessness cause. And no one can meet those needs better than the Church. If we’ll just be the Church.

This is a time to pray. Not just for the economic crisis in our country, but also for the ones hit hardest — the poor. And, there’s something else we can do: give more.

That’s right . . . more. I know it sounds odd, but what if, instead of hording our money during this time of economic struggle, we decided to be more giving? Wouldn’t that be something?
Imagine the headlines: GIVING TO THE POOR IS UP — EVEN AS STOCKS DECLINE.

At the very least, we can’t afford to cut back on our giving. The poor simply cannot survive if we do.

I don’t know what giving more means to you. It could be sponsoring a child. It could be giving to a fund that feeds the hungry.

Maybe it means going on a mission trip and getting your hands dirty. But this is the time to do it. Now. Not tomorrow. Not to change circumstances . . . but to attack the roots.

Of Life and Loss and A Bring It On Kind Of Hope

Today was my 5K. I was going to run it pregnant. They say it's fine to run these things pregnant as long as you don't get out of breath. The night before the rupture I ran the race in its entirety in a hefty 45 min. I was barely jogging, but I wanted to protect our little one. I felt strong and healthy and amazing.

Twenty eight hours later, my feet couldn't hold me. I reeled from pain, head spinning, eyes unable to focus. The doctors first diagnosed me with food poisoning, then gas. I was sure hoping for monstrous gas, as that would mean that I hadn't food poisoned our family (or Aunt Suzy) or lost a baby.

When we heard the latter, our hearts sank. I couldn't stop wiping away tears. As they wheeled me into surgery (which was sort of fun- they rammed me into a door) I remember praying for Jesus to hold my hand. I'm sure this was anesthesia driven, but I thought he laughed and said that my hand wasn't good enough. He was going to hold me. Weird stuff.

When I woke, I felt somewhat hopeless. At the same time, I felt the God of all hope carry me through something that I didn't think I was strong enough to handle. Maybe it was the morphine or maybe it was some crazy infusion of the Hulk, but the first tangible words I remember thinking were, "Bring it on."

Me? Bring it on? Who did I think I was? I'm a wimp about all things. But all of a sudden it was like I knew Who God was. He felt stronger to me than ever, more real, more there, more present, more good. I felt like with God I could tackle the world. He gave me grit and hope to fight stuff bigger than me. Not me alone. But, God with me. Together. Bring it on wasn't taunting more pain to come my way. But it was my way of saying, "Hurt just blasted you. But you're going to make it. And you don't have to do it alone." Bring it on.

Remember the first diagnosis as food poisoning? It wasn't out of the question as I've food poisoned people before. Okay, maybe just one. My roommate Andrea when we lived in Korea. But it was just an innocent mishap with frozen pizza. Anyway, I thought my lack of culinary skills had struck again.

The afternoon before the rupture, I had made Paul's great aunt a bunch of mini chicken pot pies. While I was chopping carrots, I couldn't get these words out of my head. Assuming they were for Aunt Suzy, I wrote them down in a little card and sent it with the meal. What I didn't realize was that those words were also for me.

If God is for us, who can be against us?
Who (or what) shall separate us from the love of Christ?

In the book of Romans, Paul says that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Not trouble, hard times, persecution, famine, nakedness, violence...not death nor life, not now or later, not anything.

So I began to think. If no pain in this world can separate us from His love, then every pain in this world can cement us to His love. Not so much the pain in and of itself, but what He does with the pain. How He heals it. How He loves us through it. How He holds out hope if we are willing to open our hands and accept it.

And come on now, though this ordeal was bad in my eyes, it's nothing in comparison to the hurts around me. There are widows and orphans and displaced people groups and single moms working their tales off and HIV ravaging a continent. There are slaves and children in a messed up foster care system and teenagers trying to find their way. There are homeless families and dads burying sons too early and marriages falling apart and thousands of children dying today cause of the food crisis. And then there's my neighbor and I've heard her crying next door.

Nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

My Jesus' love is the only thing that can heal any of my scars. All of the physical ones outside of my ability to control. And all of the self-inflicted ones from past failures, fears, and forgetting a very real God who wanted me to know Him. Not simply as Savior, but more completely as Lord. He has made me whole. But it would be a travesty to hoard this healing for myself.

He has come that we might have life and have it to the full. But when you're scarred by the brokenness of this world, sometimes you can't see beyond your own pain. That's why we need to meet people where they're at, where their scars are. John Perkins says that we need to be sensitive to people's needs as they define them. "Their needs as they feel them. And we love them around their needs." This takes more listening than talking, more seeking to understand than striving to be understood, more getting dirty in the trenches than appearing clean in the pews.

It's ladling soup at the homeless shelter and searching for lice in unclean hair. It's buying new clothes for children at the trailer park so that they can look nice when they go back to school. It's giving money to organizations that help fight child trafficking, because children deserve the right to be children. It's hearing the same old story from your grandfather, because he doesn't have anyone else who will listen. It's seeing with your own eyes what is going on in Africa. It's adopting a child from India or rescuing one from the foster care system. It's loving the children you've got like crazy, even when you don't feel like it.

It's messy and inconvenient and sacrificial and more than you want to know and tiresome. This is love. This is what Jesus came for. He consistently met people where they were and sometimes just offered water. Then He shared with them their real need for Himself -for the author of life to heal deep, brutal scars, hidden in their hearts. By His wounds we are healed.

I'm not sure how you're scarred today. But every hurt matters to a God of love. I'm not sure who around you is crying. But if you have been healed by Jesus, there is no greater honor than to give your Hope away. Maybe physically first, then spiritually. No matter what kind of hideous pain is standing in front of us, we can say, "Bring it on," cause we don't go it alone. We hold a God sized strength inside us, a God sized hope, a God sized love that can heal any wound.

Nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

This is my beautiful Savior.

Purposed

The world is not mine to save,

but I can serve the mission of the God

who has already done so.

Tyler Wigg Stevenson

Passivity Breeds Injustice

In a Hand Full of Stars, Rafik Schami tells his story about growing up in poverty and political oppression in Damascus, Syria. As Rafik is confiding in an old friend about a horrific, unwarranted encounter with the police, his friend says, "Whoever forgives injustice, gets more injustice."

"Could Rafik's diary rouse us all to ask ourselves whether our passivity about the injustices in the world has simply allowed them to multiply faster?"

- Marva Dawn

In Unfettered Hope: A Call to Faithful Living in an Affluent Society, Marva explores the issues of poverty, injustice, and racism among other things - and our responsibility to this crises as followers of Christ. I just concluded the first chapter today and it is incredible.

She implores us to "expand our grief at tragedy to encompass the world" by comparing the stats of September 11. In no way does she belittle the 2,800 lives lost in our country that day, but she does put things into perspective.

The stats for 9/11, according to the UN Food and Agriculture Organization, concerning deaths from starvation and other preventable conditions on that same day:

Victims: 35,615 children
Where: poor countries
Newspaper articles: none
Special TV programs: none
Messages from the president: none
Bills before Congress to deal with crisis: none
Military alert level: unchanged
Minutes of silence: none

And to conclude, a stat that makes my stomach turn. Sorry. I am all about taking care of animals as pets and such, (when the kids are older, we are thinking of having a little Fido running amuck, so I'm not pointing fingers or anything!) but not to the exclusion of human lives. The UN Development Program says that to meet basic health and nutrition needs for the world's poorest people, it would cost $13 billion more a year. Here's the killer. Americans and Europeans spend more than that on pet food yearly. You have got to be kidding me.

Ellen

Enclosed you will find a letter here, written by my friend Kristin's sister, Kassie. Kassie is doing amazing work with the Peace Corps in Togo, Africa. This is her story of a beautiful baby girl named Ellen.

Since Ellen is not an isolated case - in giving her our time - we are giving a generation of children our time. And maybe our time will grow compassion in us. And maybe then, we will fight against these injustices and take Christ's commands to heart.

He asked us to care for the least of these.

Ellen's story, as told by Kassie:

A few months ago, I wrote some of you to tell you about a little girl named Ellen who lives in the compound next to my house. Ellen was abandoned at birth by her mother, and was then brought by her father to Kabou-Sara to live with extended family members. She never was given breast milk, and she was without it for a few months in the very beginning of her life, making it difficult for another woman to start giving her milk (which is usually done) because she probably would have gotten sick.

Ellen is a beautiful two year old little girl, who I knew really needed help of some kind. Her body, being extremely frail—so much so that when she was naked, her skin literally just hung off of her bones. At least two years old, she was unable to walk. (She looks about 10-12 months). I bought enriched flour and decided to start preparing enriched porridge for her. I did this for about a week, until I stopped because I thought it was important for the family to learn how to prepare it and feed it to her. I had said that I would be willing to keep purchasing the flour, if they would prepare it for her and give it to her on a regular basis.

I also called other Peace Corps Volunteers who worked with Nutrition and HIV/AIDS organizations, seeing if there was a possibility of an organization taking Ellen on as a member…perhaps giving her an HIV test (because she had never been taken to the doctor before her), or perhaps providing nutritional supplements or food so that her body could become strong.

On Wednesday, April 9th, I came back home from being in Togo's capitol, Lome. My neighbor, Justine, who had been helping translate information I had to the family in the local language, told me that Ellen had died at 2am that morning.

Her guardian noticed that Ellen had become extremely weak, had taken her to the hospital in Kabou where she was given medicine, but Ellen wasn't able to get the medicine into her body in time. She was just too weak. It was just too late. It was horrible news to hear. When people say, "Oh, well if you can just touch one person's life…it'll all be worth it." --this was that person for me I thought. She was the first little girl in Africa…actually…I can honestly say that it was the first person that I could associate with that saying.

I remember two nights, so vividly, where I just sat down on a little wooden stool, blowing on spoonfuls of porridge, and feeding them to her. Her eyes, and her little hands clutching the goblet of food so tight, like it was some prize that she won and never wanted to give away. The day after I first fed her, Little Ellen scooted (she was never able to walk, so she would just scoot in her little dress, bare-bottomed with no underwear or anything) through the dirt, maybe 50 yards from her home to mine, and just sat on my front step, looking up to me. She NEVER left her house, unless someone picked her up and carried her somewhere. This was the only time I had ever seen her move anywhere…and it was to come sit on my step.

I just knew she wanted something…I just didn't know what I had to give. She wanted a chance at life…that's all. Though she couldn't speak, her eyes screamed at me, saying "WHAT ABOUT ME?!". I will never forget her eyes…how empty they looked. She wasn't even given a chance.

I find it very strange that I wasn't there the day that she died. I'm always in my village it seems. If I would have been at my house that morning, and seen Little Ellen, I don't know what I would have done.

-- Kassie Eberle

So in Love...

I long for the day when every village, town and city has congregations of Christians so in love with Jesus Christ that they lead scores of people to accept Him as personal Savior and Lord every year - and so sensitive to the cry of the poor and oppressed that they work vigorously for justice, peace and freedom.

- Ron Sider

Restoring Beauty

To lose the chains of injustice
To set the oppressed free
To share your food with the hungry
To provide the poor with shelter
To clothe the naked
To not turn away from your own flesh and blood

To get rid of the pointing finger and malicious talk
To give good news
To bind up the brokenhearted
To proclaim freedom for captives
To comfort all who mourn
To provide for those who grieve

To act justly and to adore mercy and to walk humbly

To live towards God and to not act like we've already arrived

Will catch the gaze of the world and restore beauty back to the church.
Forgive us God. Forgive me.

I Am Not...

I am not a wife, a mom, a daughter, a sister, a friend (my relationships)
I am not an educator (my training)
I am not an early childhood teacher, youth group leader, children's church coordinator, or writer (my work)
I am not disciplined, motivated, creative, independent, idealistic, sensitive, or encouraging (my gifts)
I am not scheduled, impatient, anxious, busy, perfectionistic, or critical (my weaknesses)
I am none of these.
I am a naked soul clothed in the righteousness of Christ.

This is my Prayer of Identity. Its purpose is to help me remember who I am, instead of trying to be what others want me to be. When I strip away the layers of performance, ability, or expectations, what remains? Who am I without my role as a wife or mother? Who am I without my education or work? What is my value without accomplishment?

I suppose that I waste a lot of time being what others want me to be, as opposed to what God has uniquely created me for. I also suppose that my view of myself impacts my view of others, whether I intend it to or not. Jesus said that love does not seek its own. If that is true, and I believe that it is, what layers of expectations do I throw on others? Do I love regardless of how someone measures up or fails in that regard?

I think I need to quiet the voices of others more and live loudly the voice of my God. He says," You are precious and honored in my sight and I love you." Not because of the roles that I live out, the successes or failures of each day, or the approval or disdain of others. He loves me just because. And that means that I need to love just because.

Speaking of Community...

We awakened yesterday morning to hear that some close friends of ours had lost everything they had in a fire. Though we are thanking God for their lives, we also are grieving with their loss. Everything is gone, just like that.

The Oesterling family is one of the most respected families in our church. We think the world and more of them. They've got three girls in our youth group - Heather (a freshman in college), Aprille (a high school junior), and Christin (an eighth grader.) Their parents, Lon and Sharon, live out their faith daily by helping those in need. Because their kids see an authenticity in their own lives, they are following their parents' example. The girls have been on missions trips to Mexico City and Africa and are the first to volunteer at the homeless shelter. Recently, they have pretty much adopted a family in the area who live in poverty. They have loved on these four kids like you wouldn't believe and those kids adore them for it. We see it in their eyes every Sunday morning at church.

Now, it's our turn to love them. If the church is fulfilling our role as the church, then we need to love, give, cry, encourage, support, sacrifice, and show them the goodness of God in the midst of a pretty bad deal. This is community in action. Please pray for them as they seek to trust God while they are rebuilding all that they know. Pray for the body of Christ to make love evident to them in very practical ways. Pray for their circle of influence - including those 4 kids that I mentioned above. Pray that those kids and their parents would see Jesus in their response to this loss. And pray that God would so pour out His goodness on this family that they would hardly even know what to do with it all.

If by chance, you would like to send a note of encouragement or give a specific gift in their name, please email me at kristincharles@hotmail.com. I will get back to you asap about how you can help. Thanks so much.

A Gesture of Hope

Nothing is sweet or easy about community. Community is a fellowship of people who do not hide their joys and sorrows but make them visible to each other in a gesture of hope. In community we say," Life is full of gains and losses, joys and sorrows, ups and downs- but we do not have to do it alone. We want to drink our cup together and thus celebrate the truth that the wounds of our individual lives, which seem intolerable when lived alone, become sources of healing when we live them as part of a fellowship of mutual care."

-Henry Nouwen

I stumbled across this quote today and fell in love with it. In our individualistic society, we often shun community because we think we can do everything ourselves. So every evening, we escape into our places of refuge and lock the doors. We don't know our neighbors and sometimes we don't even know our friends.

I will admit to you that I am one of the worst offenders. It's really hard for me to connect with people sometimes. One, because I'm so awkward and often uncomfortable in my own skin. I feel like people won't really like the person that they get to know. Second, when I invite others to live life together with me, they see my vulnerabilities. And then I am found out, unmasked, transparent. In this case, it's good for me to remind myself that none of us have it all together, ever. And in the realization of that, there is freedom.

The truth is, I know that I need others. We all do. God created us to laugh with each other and to cry with each other. He created us to challenge one another and to confess our failings to one another. Too often I find myself concealing weakness or minimizing hurt. And I assume that I'm not alone in my guise of perfection.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is this - call me to community. Yeah, I need tons of alone time, but I also need others. And if we get together, I'll look past your inadequacies if you can pretend you don't see all the clutter in my living room, that annoying eye twitter of mine, or the fact that I can rarely piece two legitimate sentences together these days.

How Does God Allow Evil?

I asked God how He could allow suffering.

And He said, "I don't. You do."

-David Kuo

Paul directed me to this blog entry today and it coincided with some reading that I got to do today - all about bringing our presence into another's pain - loneliness, poverty, disease, hopelessness, whatever.

As a follower of Christ, when we bring our presence, we bring the presence of someone much more significant than ourselves. We enter into the face of suffering with the God of all hope, all comfort, and all compassion. We make our invisible God visible.

Henry Nouwen said that, "Compassion, to be with others when and where they suffer and to willingly enter into a fellowship of the weak, is God's way to justice and peace among people."

We need to not allow suffering anymore, when it is well within our power to do something.

I Saw What I Saw

As many of you know, this is my favorite musician, Sara Groves (with Crowder coming in as a close second.) Paul got to attend one of her concerts during the Cincinnati Youth Conference, for which I was quite jealous. But that's okay, I play her music constantly at home. Anyway, the following is a video to one of her songs, "I Saw What I Saw." It is quite moving, so please take the time to watch it. It's a reflection on her most recent trip to Rwanda.

Broken Hearted

If you have food in your fridge, clothes on your back, a roof overhead, and a place to sleep, you are richer than 75% of the people in this world.

If you have ANY money in the bank, some in your wallet, and some spare change laying around, you are among the top 8% of the world's wealthy. 92% have less to live on than you.

If you have never experienced war, imprisonment, torture, or starvation, you are ahead of 500 million people in the world.

If you can attend church without the fear of harassment, arrest, torture, or death, you are more blessed than three billion people in the world.

I write these stats not to invoke guilt. For whatever reason, God has allowed us to live in a wealth of resources, freedom, and comfort. We shouldn't feel guilty that God has given us so much. We should be ever so thankful. However, legitimate guilt is the guilt of ignoring the men, women, and children who do not have what we have - and spending the majority of our time, gifts, and possessions only on ourselves and our families.

If I am being completely honest, I am so guilty of this that it makes me sick. And when all is said and done, I will have no defense in the end. "Everyone to whom much was given, of him much will be required." (Luke 12:48) So I pray that God will break my heart into a million pieces for those crying around the world and those searching for hope right next door. And maybe, just maybe, the breaking of my heart will finally invoke action. Not just here and there action, but an everyday committment to entering into the poverty of others with the riches of grace.

Oswald Chambers said, "If through a broken heart, God can bring His purposes to pass in the world, then thank Him for breaking your heart."

Break, break, away, Jesus. I just can't keep making excuses.

Integrity Asserted

If I have denied the desires of the poor
or let the eyes of the widow grow weary
if I have kept bread to myself,
not sharing it with the fatherless-
but from my youth I reared him as would a father,
and from my birth I guided the widow-
if I have seen anyone perishing for lack of clothing,
or a needy man without a garment,
and his heart did not bless me
for warming him with the fleece from my sheep,
if I have raised my hand against the fatherless,
knowing that I had influence in court,
then let my arm fall from the shoulder,
let it be broken off at the joint.
For I dreaded destruction for God,
and for fear of his splendor I could not do such things.

-Job, on what we should all hope to attain for those in need

"A Church Wrecked For the Community Around Them..".

Here's an excerpt from an interview with a guy who has chosen to be homeless so that he can love the people around him to Jesus. I'm not advocating that we all go sell everything we have to live on the streets, but the article has some great things to say that hit home hard with me.

If there were one thing you could say to the world, what would it be?

Lets live like Jesus. Just live like Jesus. Jesus showed His love for us by giving up His life for us, hoping for the same from us. Our lives are consumed with time wasted, money blown, relationships ruined, all for the sake of the American Dream. The Church even seems to strive for this so-called Dream. Jesus reminded us not to store up treasures on earth. He believed in simplicity. He urged His disciples to give up everything for the sake of the gospel. He didn’t believe that the Church was a physical building, but that we are the Church. Wherever we are, God is. Jesus taught us that we are blessed from God to be a blessing. If we have "stuff," it is to give it away. Jesus taught that there is so much more to life than food and clothing and shelter. And He said that when we decrease and downsize our lives, we are more able to bless others. He taught us to love; yet we so easily forget. I want to learn the way Jesus loved. Love is my mission statement.