Jesus, Immanuel

In our predominantly Christian corner of East Africa, the prosperity gospel is often preached in churches and curses are often pronounced by witch doctors in villages.  We have less encounters with other religions than with skewed interpretations and applications of our own religion.  As with anywhere in the world, there is still more room for the Gospel to go forth, to take root, and to grow deep.  In our particular context, the message of Christ has gone forth and taken root in many hearts, but the soil is shallow and the roots are thin.  As Jesus himself said, faith is easily uprooted in those conditions (Matthew 13:20-21).

Our main ministry is discipleship.  With the intention of deepening and strengthening roots, we work to impart the truth of who God really is and how he interacts with us and our world.  This deeply matters because who God is – and isn't – shapes not only how we live our lives but how we relate to our Savior.  It also impacts the meaning of this time of year and how we celebrate the distinctly Christian holiday of Christmas.

Earlier this year I sat outside a Buddhist temple with my nine-year-old son and talked about what God requires of us.  Our family had traveled to Thailand for a missions conference and had the privilege of visiting two temples during our time there.  The first temple we visited was particularly memorable because of its design.  We had never been to a place like that before and our fantasy-loving boys were instantly enamored with the dragons carved into the temple architecture.  Truth be told, I was enamored too.  But it wasn’t just the dragons that intrigued me.  The entire building was magnificent, clearly constructed with care and tended to with honor and respect.  The red walls complimented the gold columns and statues and perfectly matched the red, white, and gold patterned tiles on the floor.

We admired the devotion of the Buddhists who had originally built the structure as well as the worshippers visiting the temple that day.  We ourselves had walked through the temple, first taking off our shoes like everyone else, and marveled at the architectural masterpiece we found ourselves in.  Incense filled our noses with unfamiliar scents and filled our minds with questions.  The numerous Buddhas sprinkled throughout the temple drew our attention again and again.  The entire experience proved a powerful conversation tool for talking with our boys about religion.  We talked about why people were lighting incense, why they knelt before the Buddha, why they walked laps around the temple.  The experience ignited their minds.

It was at the second temple we visited, with a golden Buddha as tall as the building itself, that our son asked me pointed questions about God and people as we sat outside putting our shoes back on.  “Why are all these people doing this?  God said we don’t have to do stuff like this to be saved.”  My son was right, but these people didn’t know that.  When I told him such, he heaved a huge sigh.  His heart was full of the truth of God and full of the grief that comes with knowing other people are unaware of that truth.  I told my son the worshippers walking in and out of the temple were doing what they thought was best, or even necessary, to please God.  They wanted to please God, which is good.  But our human nature thinks we need to do something to win God’s approval, to do something to earn salvation.  “But we don’t need to,” my son said.  And he was right, because he knows who God really is and who he isn’t.

Sometime later, back in Kenya, I read The Iliad with our boys as a part of our homeschool history unit on ancient civilizations.  What stood out to us was how often the Greek gods meddled with the minds of men and women for their own selfish ends, or, perhaps worse, for their own entertainment.  It was shocking, really, to read about gods who came to earth to dwell among men but who did so to take advantage of them or to prove their own power and authority.  Those gods deceived their worshippers, tearing them down in order to build themselves up.

After Ancient Greece we studied Ancient Rome, and then had the privilege of visiting Rome during travels to Europe for a leadership conference where we walked the same ancient streets as emperors who attained godhood upon their deaths (and sometimes were worshipped as a god during their lifetime).  God didn’t have to come down; God was already here, an inherent deity running through the veins of a man in power over an empire.  This “emperor god” had his own interests at heart – that of expanding the empire and ensuring his supreme authority by enforcing submissive “peace” throughout the empire, the same “peace” that destroyed Jerusalem in AD 70 and used the spoils of war to fund the building of the Colosseum back in Rome.

This year, our globally mobile lifestyle helped us think about religions around the world, both ancient and contemporary.  Learning about the gods of other religions helped us learn about our own God too – who He is and who He isn’t.

Our God is love, and our God is near.  He is Love Come Down, not to have his own needs met but to meet our needs instead.

Our God makes no demands.  He is graciously present – gracious because His very presence is an unmerited gift which expects nothing in return.  He chooses to dwell with us not to exact punishment or mischief or deception, but to demonstrate His choice of us.

Our God is hope personified.  We have eternal hope in Him because salvation comes to us, not because of us and our good deeds.

In the captivating book, God With Us: A Journey Home, Jeremy Pierre beautifully describes who our God is when he explains the two names of the Messiah: Jesus (The Lord Saves) and Immanuel (God With Us).  “These two names are only good news when they go together.  God With Us is dangerous news for sinners, unless he also comes as God is Salvation.  Together, these names are the gospel.”

Our family is rejoicing anew as we celebrate Christmas in Kenya this year.  We celebrate that God kept His promise to send a Savior.  We celebrate that God came near.  We celebrate that God came in love.  We celebrate that His coming is our salvation.  We celebrate that His salvation calls for repentance without penance.

We rejoice in these truths, and we proclaim them.  This is the Gospel, and we hope and pray it will not only go forth, but take root and grow deep in our corner of the world.

Reflections on Paul's First Missionary Journey

This summer I studied the life of Saul/Paul with our boys.  Although I've read his staggering story many times, several things jumped out at me this time around, particularly about his first missionary journey in Acts 13-14.  While countless books have been written about Paul as a missionary, I will humbly submit my own reflections here.

Paul's first missionary journey is packed with action, but it begins with the simple act of prayer.

Actually, even before that, it begins with worshiping and fasting.  "While they [prophets and teachers in the church in Syrian Antioch] were worshiping the Lord and fasting, the Holy Spirit said, 'Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them'" (13:2).  A group of leaders in the church intentionally spent time worshiping and fasting together, and in that environment the Holy Spirit chose to speak to them.  I find this as a powerful challenge to the Church.  Communal worship and fasting not only unites us, but invites the Holy Spirit to fill us and speak to us.  In this specific situation, He spoke about sending some of the Syrian Antioch church leaders on mission.

Paul already knew that God had called him to preach the Good News to the Gentiles, and also that he would suffer along the way.  Jesus made that clear during Paul's radical conversion experience on the road to Damascus (Acts 9:15-16).  So this instance of the Holy Spirit speaking was not Paul's initial call to missions.  Rather, I believe it served three other important purposes: 1) to inform the other church leaders that the Lord was indeed calling Paul to be a missionary; 2) to include Barnabas in the call; 3) to confirm to Paul that this was still what God wanted him to do.  Confirmation is a marvelous thing, and the Lord graciously provided it here.  So, after confirming the call, Paul officially embarked on his first missionary journey.  This is where the simple act of prayer begins Paul's life as a missionary.  "So after they had fasted and prayed, they placed their hands on them and sent them off" (13:3).

A couple things are important to note here.  First, Paul obeyed.  He heard God's call on his life and he agreed to it.  Not everyone is willing to obey what God says, but Paul does and thereby sets an example for the rest of us (not least of which because he said yes to something incredibly arduous).  Secondly, Paul and Barnabas were sent off with the support and blessing of the Church.  What the Church's support looks like will vary, but having its support and blessing is vital to a missionary.

The first stop on this journey was Cyprus (13:4-12).  There, as they were sharing the Gospel with the proconsul, they met direct opposition from a sorcerer and false prophet named Bar-Jesus.  To counter this hostility, God allowed Paul to oppose the sorcerer right back and even blind him.  (Perhaps Paul was remembering his own experience with blindness and how terrifying it was, but also how it helped to turn him to the Lord.)  The phenomenon of instantaneously blinding a man not only captured the attention of the proconsul but led him to believe in the power of Jesus.  We often think of miracles as some marvelous act turning a bad situation into something good - and often that is the case - but if we understand a miracle as being something only God can do, then the blinding of this sorcerer was in fact a miracle.  And it did, indeed, lead to something good: the salvation of the proconsul of Cyprus.

Sometimes, when we do what God asks, He moves on our behalf and it looks and feels like God is fighting for us.

Leaving Cyprus, Paul and Barnabas ventured on toward Pisidian Antioch (13:13-52).  Upon entering the synagogue and being invited to speak, they boldly preached the Gospel.  They were so convincing, "the people invited them to speak further about these things on the next Sabbath" (13:42).  When they returned the next week, however, some Jews were jealous and spiteful of their popularity and made it clear they were no longer welcome.  They "talked abusively against what Paul was saying.... They stirred up persecution against Paul and Barnabas, and expelled them from their region" (13:45, 50b).

Sometimes, when we do what God asks, there are mixed results and it looks and feels like God hasn't made up His mind about what's happening.

They moved on to Iconium where they also received a divided response (14:1-7).  Although "a great number of Jews and Gentiles believed" Paul and Barnabas ultimately had to flee because of "a plot afoot among the [unbelieving] Gentiles and Jews, together with their leaders, to mistreat them and stone them."  This was the second time in a row a visit had ended poorly.

Sometimes, when we do what God asks, we experience the joy of fruitful ministry only to be rewarded by an attack from the enemy, and it looks and feels like God is playing a joke on us.

They fled to Lystra and, persevering, continued preaching the Gospel (14:6-20).  One day Paul encountered a crippled man who'd been lame since birth.  By the power of God, Paul healed the man.  The crowd that witnessed the miracle could only understand it in light of their own Greek worldview and thus interpreted the act as the gods appearing among them.  They're not far from the truth - "the living God, who made heaven and earth and sea and everything in them" (14:15b) was truly there and had truly worked a miracle in this man's life - but they're in need of further explanation about this one true God they are confusing with their false gods.  They ascribe godhood to both Paul and Barnabas which, understandably, upsets them greatly and thus ensues a back-and-forth about what really happened.  The public spectacle consumes enough time that the apostles' enemies from Pisidian Antioch and Iconium have time to catch up with them and convince the crowd to stone Paul.  He'd successfully escaped being stoned by them earlier, but now he is caught and stoned in the end - stoned so badly that he was presumed dead and his persecutors disposed of his body by dragging it outside the city (14:19).

Sometimes, when we do what God asks, it ends in shambles because God doesn't protect us and instead allows us to suffer great persecution.  (Notice that Paul wasn't given the ability to blind any of his enemies in Lystra like he had on Cyprus).

Remarkably, Paul soldiers on and together with Barnabas he goes to Derbe and preaches the Gospel yet again (14:20-21a).  Seemingly, all goes according to plan in Derbe and they "won a large number of disciples without any disruption to their ministry (14:21).

Sometimes, when we do what God asks, he gives us a break and lets us not only experience success but lets us bask peacefully in it too.

Paul and Barnabas then decide it's time to return to Syrian Antioch, where they'd began this journey, and they choose to go back the way they'd come, passing through Lystra, Iconium, and Pisidian Antioch.  What fortitude!  To go back to the places where they'd been stoned, run out of town, and persecuted!  They are either complete fools with a glutton for punishment, or they are so convicted of their call and filled with the Holy Spirit that they can't help but take the risk.  I believe the latter is true.

As it happens, their return trip continues without a hitch.  Paul and Barnabas strengthen and encourage the believers in these places, specifically reminding them "we must go through hardships to enter the kingdom of God" (14:22).  Paul is surely saying these words to himself as well, remembering that part of his initial call included the injunction from Jesus, "I will show [Paul] how much he must suffer for my name" (9:16), but Paul wants other believers to know they are also included in this reality by virtue of being a follower of Jesus.  Paul's sufferings are unique in their prevalence and difficulty (see 2 Corinthians 11:23b-27), but all followers of Jesus should expect to face trials and sufferings.  Paul wants them to know this so they can be encouraged that their hardships are not in vain.

Along with encouraging them, Paul and Barnabas also appointed elders in the local churches.  They ran into nary a problem on the way back to their home base.  Why?  Perhaps they kept quiet as they visited those cities again.  Perhaps their influential enemies were all out of town.  Perhaps God placed His hand of protection over them.  Who knows?  Regardless, they were successful and the churches were strengthened and encouraged.

Sometimes, when we do what God asks, His favor is abundantly clear and His kindness and generosity knows no bounds.

Paul's first missionary journey is a study of contrasts.  So much success and so much struggle.  As a missionary, the struggles have a way of catching my attention in particular.  I can't help but wonder how I would manage if faced with the same animosities and despairs.  I can easily imagine that I wouldn't have the same fortitude or commitment that Paul did.

As we studied Acts 13 and 14, one glaring question presented itself: "In the face of so much opposition and persecution on his first missionary journey, why didn't Paul give up?"

I've been tempted to think that Paul just had an overwhelmingly intense personality - the kind that never runs out of energy or passion or vision, the kind that truly runs their race.  (And to be honest, missions definitely attracts an uncanny number of those personalities.)  Maybe that's part of it.  There's certainly enough evidence in Scripture to attest to Paul's fiery and zealous persona.

But there's more to Paul's steadfastness than a strong personality.

We must remember that he had a blessedly clear call from the Lord.  And what a gift!  To know without doubt what the Lord has invited you to do?  Such a thing should never be taken for granted.  Paul had this, and he took it seriously.  The Lord informed Paul at the very beginning, on the road to Damascus, that he would be preaching the Gospel to the Gentiles (and also suffering along the way), and then the call was confirmed at Syrian Antioch.  So whether the mission was going well or not, Paul could always remind himself of that clear call from the Lord Jesus Christ and could therefore stay the course with confidence.

The other incredibly important thing to remember was Paul's motivation to share the love of Christ.  He did not give up despite opposition and persecution because his desire for others to also know the transforming power of Christ was so great that he could do nothing else but press on.  Paul well knew what it was like to live in darkness, to be separated from God, to live for self and self alone.  He knew what bitterness and anger taste like.  He knew that hatred and vengeance lead to destruction.  He knew the agony of living with a complete lack of hope and peace.

He also knew life, light, joy, and shalom when he surrendered his life to Christ.  Because of that, he couldn't stop sharing the Good News with anyone who would listen.  Paul wanted others to have the same experience he had of learning to trust and love the Savior.

Not everyone can claim a clear call from the Lord, but every follower of Jesus can be motivated by His love and grace and forgiveness.  Like Paul, that motivation should compel us to not give up being a witness, by word and deed, to the love of Jesus.  Wherever we find ourselves in the world, we can pursue being a source of light in this dark world.

As for me, I'm encouraged by this part of Paul's story.  The Lord helped him throughout his entire first missionary journey.  God strengthened him, empowered him, granted him courage, brought other believers alongside to help and assist him, and brought him back "home" to testify to what God had done and to receive a time of rest and refreshment (14:26-28).

I'm encouraged to not give up, and to believe that the Lord will watch over me and provide for me as He sees fit, like He did for Paul, and to trust that what He sees fit is truly for my good and for His glory.

Faithfully

This year marks seven years since we moved to Kenya.  Africa had been on our hearts and minds for more than a decade before we moved here, and now we've spent the past seven years pouring our hearts and minds into living and loving here.  This place, this life, is home.

Although a myriad of reflections come to mind, the one at the forefront has to do with a song.  Since my memory is terrible, I can't remember when it became pivotal to us.  I can't remember when Eli made the connection between this song and our life, or when he started singing it to our boys at night.  But many years ago the song became an anthem of sorts, and ever since it's been a way of putting into words what we sometimes can't voice ourselves but resonate with completely when we hear the familiar opening strain and subsequent lyrics.

"Faithfully" by Journey has reminded us of the call we pursue and the commitment we make every day, to the ministry and to each other.

Highway run into the midnight sun

Wheels go 'round and 'round, you're on my mind

Restless hearts, sleep alone tonight

Sendin' all my love along the wire

They say that the road ain't no place to start a family

Right down the line, it's been you and me

And lovin' a music man ain't always what it's supposed to be

Oh, girl, you stand by me

I'm forever yours

Faithfully

Circus life under the big-top world

We all need the clowns to make us smile

Through space and time, always another show

Wonderin' where I am lost without you

And being apart ain't easy on this love affair

Two strangers learn to fall in love again

I get the joy of rediscovering you

Oh, girl, you stand by me

I'm forever yours

Faithfully

Whoa-oh, oh-oh

Whoa-oh, oh-oh, oh

Whoa-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh

Faithfully

I'm still yours

I'm forever yours

Forever yours

Faithfully

I would not have felt a particular connection to this song on my own, but when Eli first told me what the song meant to him and why, I recognized how meaningful it was.

The song is about a musician touring on the road and spending long days away from his love, away from his family.  But if you replace the musician in the song with a medical missionary, it hits home for us.  (And, I would wager, it would hit home for any number of staff working at a mission hospital.  We have dear friends/colleagues who similarly struggle to balance life and ministry and who would definitely resonate with all of these thoughts.)

"They say the road ain't no place to start a family."

Medical missions ain't no way to start a family either.  Although Eli isn't literally travelling away from home most of the time, he gives a significant amount of time to the hospital and is gone from home because of it.  I vividly recall the lonely days and nights of taking care of our three little kids single-handedly while Eli took care of everyone else at the hospital.  Even now, our kids are familiar with the routine of calling Dad to say goodnight because he won't make it home before bedtime.  I don't feel the weight of it as much as I did when we had babies and toddlers, but it's never easy for the boys to say goodbye to Eli in the morning and then not see him again that day.

"And lovin' a music man ain't always what it's supposed to be."

The work of a medical missionary can often sound exciting and exotic - working in a remote, resource-deprived context and saving lives.  While that is true, it's also true that living the life of a medical missionary takes a huge toll on these healthcare workers who see more death than anyone should have to in a lifetime, and who feel completely inadequate on a regular basis to meet the insurmountable needs of too many people with too few personnel to bear the load.  And this life also takes a toll on the family members of the medical missionary.  When Eli comes home depleted after a long day at the hospital, it impacts us.  When he has to take phone calls at all times of day or night, it impacts us.  When he has to attend another meeting after the meeting he just finished, it impacts us.  "Lovin' a medical missionary ain't always what it's supposed to be."  It's not always glamorous.

"Through space and time, always another show."

We really resonate with this.  There's always something else to be done, always someone else who needs his attention, always one more phone call before coming home.  There's never an end to the work, just pausing until it demands to be picked up again.  And often the work follows you home.  One of the themes of medical missions is that there's never enough people to do all the work.  It's a reality that doesn't change, and a reality every medical missionary has to come to terms with and learn how to cope with.

"I get the joy of rediscovering you."

It is true that absence makes the heart grow fonder, whether you're literally not in the same geographic location or whether you're like ships passing in the night and much of life together gets exchanged for other commitments.  Eli's long days make the reunions all the sweeter.  When I get to have a full conversation with my husband, or when we get to snuggle on the couch late at night and watch a sitcom, is particularly sweet after days of mere snippets of conversation and a complete lack of time for real connection.  I also love how our boys display their joy at seeing their daddy again after he's been at the hospital.  They have a beautiful habit of running to Eli every time he comes walking home.  Their sweet shouts of "Daddy!" matched with the immediate forfeiture of whatever else they're currently doing in order to run and jump in his arms - every single time - gives me joy like little else can.

"Oh, girl, you stand by me."

Yep, I do.  Because this life is worth it.  It has its fair share of sacrifices, and it's worth it.  It's worth every life saved, every resident trained, every step forward in improving the overall healthcare of a continent in desperate need of better medical outcomes.

"I'm forever yours."

I made a promise to Eli the day we married to pursue this calling of medical missions together for as long as the Lord directed us down this path.  That promise remains.

"Faithfully."

Yes, yes, and yes again.

*********************************************

Boyce Avenue does a fantastic cover of Faithfully and it's worth a listen.

Legacy of Encouragement

It was our first year of marriage and we were at the Horn family farm in Cambridge.  Alma, who was in her early 80s, stood among the flurry of family and beamed up at us.

We were young and naïve.  We were also eager and hopeful and confident in our call (which often comes with being young and naïve).  The combination of being fledgling adults with such a clear yet highly unusual trajectory in life certainly made some people pause and question what we were thinking.  Other people didn't believe that we'd follow through with it.  Still others thought we were simply insane.

But that day at the farm, Alma looked at us as if we were more sane than insane.  She looked at us with joy and pride.  She knew of our plans - to go to Cameroon, then return to the States for medical school and residency, and finally go back to Africa for long-term missionary service - and she believed in us.

Her reassuring opinion of us newlyweds bolstered us because Alma and her husband Dale had done the same thing half a century before.  When they were young and naïve (and eager and hopeful and confident in their calling), they went to Asia and served as missionaries.

Alma saw a bit of herself in us.  We triggered memories and she told us of taking a boat to China and about their later transition from there to Japan.  She didn't give a sermon or a soliloquy (although her years of living overseas could certainly warrant such), but instead she spoke simple words of encouragement that made a forever impression on our hearts.  She encouraged us to stay the course of pursuing missions, even though it would take us years to get there.  She blessed the path before us and promised to pray for us.  That day, Alma created a milestone marker in our missions journey because her encouragement came from genuine excitement as well as first-hand experience.

Alma and Dale before sailing to China

Alma was Eli's great-aunt and she passed away this month at the age of 99.  Her husband, Dale, was Eli's Grandma Horn's brother, and although I never had the privilege of meeting Dale, we've been encouraged by him also.  A scrapbook we discovered at the farm during our first Home Ministry Assignment told a bit of his story of being called to ministry.  When one of his high school teachers asked why he was choosing to pursue ministry after graduation, Dale responded, "This is not my choice.  If it were simply a matter of choice, I would be choosing more scientific pursuits.  This is God's choice for me and I am just making His choice mine."

Alma clearly did the same, and together they obeyed God's choice for them by going overseas and eventually coming back to America when the Lord called them to return.

During our first year of marriage, when we were raising funds and putting things in order to go to Cameroon, we didn't even know what questions to ask Alma that day.  We couldn't possibly understand what moving overseas and ministering cross-culturally truly meant.  We thought it would stretch and grow us, but we didn't know how.  We imagined it would be a complicated mixture of joy and struggle, but we couldn't understand what that would look like day to day.  We had vague ideas but no concrete perception of how being a missionary would impact our hearts and minds.

But Alma knew.  And even though she didn't regale us with scads of stories of the triumphs and tribulations of life and ministry overseas, we knew that she understood what we would understand for ourselves someday.  She knew the delicate balance between ministry and family as well as the guilt when the balance fails, she knew the pressures of being responsible to supporters, she knew the depths of joy of cross-cultural friendships, she knew the satisfaction of toiling for something for years and finally seeing the goal realized, she knew the sensation of loving and loathing different cultural values, she knew the loneliness of not being able to articulate all the thoughts and feelings of missionary life in a meaningful way to anyone else but Jesus.  She knew things we were years away from beginning to comprehend.

That day at the farm was over 16 years ago, and although we've only been living overseas for 7 years now, we've come to understand some of what must have been in Alma's heart that day as she looked at two newlyweds wanting to embark on a similar path that she and her husband had taken.  And we appreciate her encouragement all the more now.  We understand the gratification of staying the course and actually moving overseas and raising a family here.  We are continually experiencing how the Lord transforms our worldview and increases our understanding of His ways - how He works in individuals and communities and cultures.  We know how blessedly diverse and beautiful the Church is.  We've seen that God's kingdom is built more with small bricks over time than giant blocks in a hurry.

But we understood none of this that day at the farm.  We couldn't have understood.  We were too young and naïve.  Thankfully, Alma saw people with potential, and she poured encouragement onto that potential and covered it with prayer.

Of all the legacies this 99-year old woman is leaving behind, that is the legacy she's left for us.  We can only hope that one day the Lord will put some young and naïve people in our path that we can encourage on their journey toward missions.  Because being encouraged by someone who's gone before you on such a unique and often questioned course can make an indelibly positive impact.

Eli's grandma and her brother Dale