Unto the Lord Overcomes Doubt

So yeah….preachy as it may be, it’s the truth.

Doing everything as unto the Lord is a perfect tool for overcoming doubt.

I was totally stumped a week ago while trying to do something that I do every day. I write. I write well enough that I barely have to edit my school papers, and I still get an A. I write to our staff and its natural and easy, not perfect but not difficult. It’s usually very easy for me to fill up a page with words and letters.

But last week I was totally stumped. I was an emotional train wreck crying, missing my husband who was hard at work in Africa, and loosing sleep. I had to try to pull myself together, or admit that I wasn’t able to get that letter done properly at the time that I wanted to get it done.

It was basically due right away. I learned that I needed to write a letter and send it asap. I didn’t do well. Usually, I do fine under pressure, but that was pretty bad. So, today as I took a few minutes here and there to work between a family hang out day (special 'during the week' family fun day because our meemaw was in town yesterday and today - and she needs to see her great-grankids!) we still had work to get done though. In between my sister doing haircuts, and my mom and meemaw playing with the baby and boys, my hubby and I snuck away to our computer and phone to connect with our team on the ground in Chimoio. Lots of talking, lots of chatting, and lots of laughing! We love our team! It’s great to have amazing people connecting with us and sharing our vision for the kids at the center, and for our hearts to love the lost and share Jesus.

Well, everything was crossed off my list – except one thing. I really needed to try again on that letter. I hate turning in things late – homework, office work, ministry work, you name it. Turning in something late is uncomfortable. How can we know what the response will be? I don’t. I sent in my first draft maybe ‘on time-ish’ but it was stinky. This was going to be better. I could feel it. My hubby is home, so I have stopped crying….I was crying just because I missed him. Seriously, I love him. Love being with him, ministering with him, raising our kids with him, having team meetings with him, having team conference calls with him, love discussing things with him and ....well you get the picture. It’s my preference that we do life, ministry and fun together.

Even though my hubby was near by, I still felt a bit unsure of how to try again. So I started my Word document with an unappealing attempt that got cut up and deleted . I stopped and typed my prayer. I have always loved writing or typing prayers, but this was a little different than asking for help.

I just wrote:

Dear Jesus,

If I was writing this letter to you, I would know exactly what to write.

Then I wrote the letter. When I was done, I changed the ‘who to’ and took out that first line.

Here's why it worked to overcome my doubt about a response from the person receiving the letter:

When I’m talking to someone or writing to someone who I know is thrilled to read my letter because they are absolutely, passionately in love with me then there is no doubt showing up in my letter. My words come across clear and concise – sometimes concise, I am pretty wordy. I’m less rambley writing to Jesus because I know that he knows. I don't have to try to explain. He already knows. I am more confident because I’m not trying to sell my abilities, skills or vision, I am telling him that I agree with his heart of the matter. His love makes my abilities shine, his love refines my skills. His Holy Spirit gives me vision! It’s not a matter of explaining who I am and what I'm doing, but that I understand why I am doing what I'm doing.

I am not explaining anything to Jesus that he doesn’t already know, I’m telling him that I am excited about his dream for my life. I am happy to tell him what I can see on the path that he put in front of my feet. It’s not about me getting things right and shiny and perfect. It's about me thanking him for being with me as I go forward. It’s changes what I'm doing to be Jesus focused, not me focused. It's ultimately me loving Jesus in other people that overcomes doubt. I don’t have to worry what people will think of me. Those who love Jesus will bear witness with my heart for them and our beautiful savior. Those who don’t yet know Jesus will be drawn closer to him.

Its simple! Loving Jesus helps us love people – all people.  When in doubt, fix your eyes on Jesus. It doesn’t have to take hours and hours, it can take a simple line in a letter that redirects your attention to the lover of your soul. It can take an instant to change a dreaded task into a triumphant victory – no matter the present outcome. By fixing our eyes on Jesus we successfully love the people around us. That is the greatest outcome! Its an eternal one.

Our God is practical! Never wasting a moment. Never losing ground. He is always loving each one of us. He is always gently drawing us closer to him. If we look for Him in every little detail of our lives,  we will always find him. That’s a promise.

Just think - Doing life for Jesus and to Jesus removes doubt that can muddle up normal thinking and processing. It really will change everything in our lives that needs changing. One detail at a time, one thought, prayer, letter, or deed turned towards Jesus is transformed into a loving, kind reflection of Christ to the world around us. As we love Jesus more and more people will keep falling deeper in love with Jesus and his beautiful bride. Lets be that beautiful bride. That’s the whole point! We all want to be desperately and totally loved!

We want to hear Song of Songs poetry written to us about being ravished by our beloved. We want to be lost in the one who calls us his dove. We want to be his favorite.

We are.

No doubt about it! We are totally, completely and perfectly loved! That’s good news worth sharing!

Lots and lots of love,

Missionary Momma Mia

Writing writing everyday but not a blog in sight

I would have thought that title was followed by blank nothingness...this is my beautiful failure.... really I've been so busy writing to my hubby, the Iris Chimoio team, the office, or school everyday that there are so many days I didn't have words left to blog!!! 

Its so funny how many words are in front of me every day, and how often I am writing those words. Yet, there isn’t always anything to compose as a blog. Blogs are so journally, so free feeling in my brain. But so many people have an outline. I don't have an outline or a blog in mind.

Tonight is one of those nights.... I have written some blogs, and felt like I couldn't post them yet. But tonight, I have written a page of reading response to one of my summer classes text books in less than an hour. Did an edit, turned it in online without any concerns. I’m so confident about that, and rightly so. I guess. I have 100 percent on every assignment thus far. I can handle structured writing, but on Friday I even bombed that. grrrr. I mailed a strange email and haven't gotten a reply. must fix it!!!!

I had a weird feeling about writing after some interesting correspondence that left me questioning my ability to write anything. I tend to bounce things off of my hubby when I have a particularly stinky attitude. Anything that I am taking too personally, or not giving the person on the other side of the story the benefit of the doubt, I bounce off him. He is happy to re-direct my focus, and get me to look at the heart of the matter. If I can’t see that, the heart of the person I am about to smush.

No need to smush people. no smushing - leave that to Jesus and Holy Spirit. He's so very good at correcting and convicting us. His perfect kindness leaves us just almost unaware of his subtle ache for holiness. He doesn't pound us with guilt when we're in the wrong.

Deep sigh.

I don’t like my attitude. I hate when I have smushed someone and I didn’t wait and bounce my communication ideas off my hubby. He has a totally different personality than me, so all of my typical 'Jennifer'' assumptions are almost always so far off it should be funny. It would be funny if I didn’t take those particular things so seriously. Man are we different. His personality is far more introverted than mine, and his humor is sooo differnt. Very very diff-er-nt.

I’m kinda laughing at non-funny things like inside jokes, spelling mistakes and isms. Those barely translate in our international relationship. I’m looking at him when he’s laughing at something I think is entirely inappropriate – for example: kids playing with food or something yucky. We are different. He sees the kids having fun, I see the kids personally undoing all my cleaning efforts in order to specifically break mommy’s heart.

Right….that is an exaggeration, but good to think about. Most kids are not forward thinking enough to produce a perfect strategy that completely unhinges their mommies or daddies. It's usually funny little quirks about our personalities that we like to call buttons or triggers, and our little pumpkins or random colleagues have inadvertently discovered them.

I wish my personality had less quirks. Thankfully my hubby really does even me out so that most people think I am a pretty sane, reasonably kind person, who is sometimes even gentle. That is, in fact, the love of my life rubbing off on me. And, I specifically asked God for that when I was a teenager praying for my future husband every night. I had a list of personality traits, character qualities, special dates, and physical attributes I asked for in my future hubby. I literally asked that he would be my help-meet in building up my character where I recognized that I had flaws and shortcomings. He is the answer to my midnight prayers. He is the single most important person in my life, next to Jesus.   

I’m so happy the love of my life is on a  plane coming home. I will wait a couple days to send anymore not urgent emails, so as not so send something that makes me cringe when I go back and read it later.

Oh, Jesus. Help me be more like you. I want to be more sensitive to other people and not assuming their motives, or their hearts don’t have the best in mind for me. I need to be less of a meany. Thank you for helping me. I don’t even get it. I don’t understand how just breathing a prayer helps me see that I am forgiven, helped, loved and created in your image. You love to see me lean deeper into your heart so that I can love more people with different personalities, giftings, experiences and walks of life. You love when I  lay down your job of convicting, and pick up love. I’m not Holy Spirit. When I try to judge people’s motives - Holy Spirit's job - it comes across pretty stinky (poopy duty) in a way that is motivated by condemnation. I just look into Papa’s God heart and know that he not only forgives me when I’m not reflecting him, he empowers me to become more like Him in that moment.

Who does that? Who loves so intensely that correction is a delight?

Only Him. Only Jesus.

Inside his great heart we find peace, love and joy!

Be blessed as you lean deeper into his heart!

Lots of lub,

Missionary Momma Mia

…see, I think that weird mis-spelling is funny. I’m a dork, but a bit of an emotional one. I’m glad he designed my emotions to reflect His, and he loves my quirks so much more than I do. You too!!! He loves your quirks and humor even more than you do! He’s laughing with us so much more than we realize- like a papa who adores his lil’ kiddos. He loves us with lavish love!!

Goodnight

Celebrating our brain's quirks

‘Well this happened’ is a pretty common phrase, and it's ok to say.

We all learn how to edit out mistakes that our brain previously thought was okay as we gain more education and experience. Our societies have certain standards that help maintain order, such as language spelling and grammar rules. We learn to speak our national language according to the standards that will produce the greatest ease of communication. However, as children and babies, the majority of us were probably allowed to say words with ‘baby sounds’ or our own baby words for various things like bottle, mother, father, food or pets. Lots of parents help their children edit out baby words before heading to elementary school. We expand our vocabulary and understanding of grammar in order to be better more mature communicators. Our brain edits out the habit of saying, “me want numnums” to “May I please have a snack.” Why? I think it’s because after a certain age,  one form of communication produces the desired result much more rapidly. (I think its because of the use of the magic word).

Some of us would rather not have communication norms and spelling and grammar rules. But, it would be really hard to understand other people. So, what am I trying to say? Every once in a while an adult has published a post, article or blog with a few small grammatical mistakes, or even left out an entire thought that caused a book to be revised only a year later. This stuff happens. It could be because word did or didn’t automatically change something. I tend to think that it is our brain being quirky and reminding us that we were once children. The learning process was, and is amazing. At the same time, our brains might need to edit out more childish thinking.

I think of spoonerisms or accidental ‘tongue twisters’ more like a quirk, a twitch, or a need for editing. It’s probably not so far out there that a spoonerism would interrupt our lives and be a major concern. It could be weird if someone hears the speaker switch sounds for the first time and it is considered ‘no laughing matter.’ Someone might throw out that is a sign of impending doom. I think that you are not necessarily on your way to a nervous breakdown because you said “spork and foon”. If someone said that to me, then I would have to say, ‘So that happened.’ or  “I’m sorry that’s not what I intended to come out of my mouth.” I usually laugh or argue that is not what I wanted to say!….

If it happens to you, learn your stuff! Know your stuff! And also admit when you aren’t sure and need to learn more about your stuff. Do some research about your quirk. My dad told me that a college professor was famous for switching the starting sounds of words around in a phrase, so that little quirk was given his name. That brain quirk became a ‘spoonerism’. Talk about celebrating his brain quirk! This is like fifth hand information. I don’t remember if I properly researched it. I was around twelve or thirteen the first time I was emphatically explaining something and it poured over my teeth incorrectly. I argued that that is not what I said. Dad helped me through it. Was there a college professor named Spooner? I think so. I believed him, and it calmed me from thinking my quirk was singular and a sign of doom.  

I mean seriously, does your leg twitch? Your nose tickle, or your eye blink rapidly? There could be some much deeper explanations for these things. But, if it is not interfering with normal routine or your life in general, it is probably something to look into in your spare time for curiosity sake and to learn something new about yourself.

If a little quirk becomes intrusive in life then it is probably time to celebrate it enough to let your friends know: “Hey, sometimes I get super excited when I’m talking and this happens…..” When friends are aware of your little quirk it might become more clear if that is actually something that is intrusive, or was only a little bit embarrassing but not really a big deal. Celebrating a quirky brain, a little tick, or a bouncy knee might just ease the situation. It also give our friends and family permission to say something like, “I’ve never heard you stutter before, is that normal and I never noticed it?”

We might be able to identify real ‘red flags’ or warnings of too much mental stress, an oncoming migraine headache, or an indicator that our ‘mental wellbeing’ might be on the downslope.

I love to celebrate my little quirks called “spoonerisms”, but if I stutter I want to be told so I can figure out why I would do something I’ve never done before. A quirk could become a source of immeasurable concern if someone makes a big negative deal out of it. If we celebrate the way our brain works with it’s quirks and all, we might not be caught off guard by a little brain quirk mistaken for a red flag or vice versa. We could be spared from having an actual breakdown.

My point is, talk about how you understand what’s going on in your mind with friends and family. We all process things in an individual way, pretty similarly, but we have different foundations, languages, analogies, and belief systems. It is important to know and identify more about how we understand our own thought processes in order to weird, I mean weed out quirks and warnings or ‘red flags’.

I do believe it is better to be safe than sorry, so as a mommy, I would suggest celebrating and looking into your brain quirks and learning more about them. Don't be afraid of what you find. Take care of you, Love you!

That’s enough thinking for now. Well, its not a very missionary-ish blog. Its from my experience of missionary living though. Anyway, I’m not editing this again tonight….take my word for it. Missionaries need to research things like what culture shock and compassion fatigue does to thought processing and emotions.  We can get really quirky.....it's probably still ok for most of us....At least my friends and family can laugh with me. 

Here's to JOY and Lots of love!

Missionary Momma Mia

The shadow of injustice

It’s the sneaky little things that infiltrate our society that we pretend are ok because we have some level of dependency on those who willingly or unwillingly, or knowingly or unknowingly perpetrators of injustice.

I see the path of injustice throughout history. I examine the past to gain understanding and perspective. My husband and I might have an over developed since of justice, or there might be a purpose for our instinctive fight against the slightest sign of injustice.

How do we stand against injustice and fight? It’s simple. We keep going forward. We keep caring for our big family. We find joy in giving presents to our Mozambican children.In very poetic words we stand against injustice and fight by loving fatherless and motherless children, by extending grace those who have none for themselves, and by being a voice for children and women who don’t have a voice in a nation where there is little history of justice and peace.

My husband and I feel passionately about improving the lives of the poor in Mozambique, but we can’t walk around every day all day hounding the world around us with our sentiment. We have no desire to do that. It’s also not in our personalities. There are some who do, that is their social ability and gifting. We are so proud of their “yes” to Jesus. This is my ‘YES’ to Jesus. It might not look like much compared to awesome speakers, influential leaders, and gifted administrators (I study admin cause it’s not my natural talent, but a skill I need to acquire!) There are people who have more than enough, they live in the promise land! That’s great. I want them to draw me a map to get there.

I’m serious. But their path is probably perfect for their feet. I will get there on my path.

Me, I can’t pretend to want to speak in front of a crowd. Its not my dream. If it’s important then I will get up and say something, but it is not my passion. Nor is it my husbands. We are both passionate about worshipping God, and loving his children. We can do many things, but we aren’t that power couple who go into places leading people to Jesus and the mission field. We are terrible at that. Seriously. Not self-bashing. I’m just saying the truth is we are better at spending time with the kids, and taking care of their needs than other things right now. We are having to that from across an ocean for the last year and half and its crazy hard to hear problems and have to solve them over the telephone, or via emails. But we have managed. Now after such a long time, we are going back to our last home for a short time. I’m not sure how to face it? I’m not sure how to go forward? It’s not pretty.

Often time we go forward in a wobbly way. We aren’t always even sure if we can keep going forward the way we were before. But we make sure that kiddos have meals and get to school. We have Facebook chats with the older kids and read how their day is going. We pray with our kids and for them. We have WhatsAp conversations with the Iris Chimoio River of God team. We stay together across an ocean. It’s pretty amazing.

Funny enough, I can manage to write. I write to our kids, our team, our offices, our supporters. I want to do that more. I can even manage to write a blog. But it’s so quiet. No one is compelled to run to an altar and cry out to Jesus for the poor because of the words of my emotional blubbering. I have read books like that. Maybe one day, if it is important there will be something I’ve managed to write that causes hearts to be open, but its not because I’m chasing a story like a journalist, or performing a monologue like an actor.

I do want to witness the suffering of humanity, but not for the sake of journalism or suffering. But because I want to know Jesus. I know he is where there is suffering. I know he is JOY. What is JOY without understanding sadness? I am willing to go places outside of my comfort zone if only to see with my own eyes the depths of unspeakable love of Jesus poured out over his beloved creation when he took our sorrows and grief into his heart. It’s not the summation of the little and big sorrows of one individual person. The most immense sorrow of an individual is nothing to diminish, but it is so much more than our hearts can bear.

Jesus in all of his unconditional compassion bore up every single moment of suffering, sorrow and grief in all of history from the beginning of time when he spoke the words of creation to now and all of the days ahead of us. This is intense.

This is far more than anyone has ever suffered, he did all of this for love for us, even unrequited love. What can I do but look at the pain in someone’s eyes and weep with them. How can I not share in their moments of sorrow?

I have been surrounded by sorrow. I witnessed so much suffering and death in the first months of my life on the mission field in central Mozambique. I quickly learned that no one wants to hear the sad stories of children dying, and widows houses falling down around them. Not many friends could bear to hear the stories of mother’s abandoning their children because of absolute poverty and hunger. I learned that those stories only cause people to turn away. I couldn’t turn away. I learned to tell the happy stories of the babies who were saved, and the widows and single moms who had plenty to eat.

I learned who I could share my deepest sorrows with, and who I could share my victories with. 

Victories are celebrated by many. Sorrows are carried by few. The burden of sorrows and sadness is very lonely, and yet Jesus took it all. Every single moment, every tear, there is never a lonely sorrow or moment of sadness. His sacrifice means that we can grieve in his company, cry on his shoulder, and celebrate His victory as ours.

I’ll admit it, I don’t know exactly how to pinpoint why I’m so upset with the shadow of injustice that popped up over me and my husband tonight, but I kinda know what triggered it. I know that I have to face the little things with confidence and courage to continue to love our children. That courage helps me get through customs with presents for our children. That courage helps me face the soaring cost of food in central Mozambique. That courage helps me write a super emotional blog and post it for Mother’s day.

This is my mother heart. I don’t want to break yours. I would usually write something like this and close it away for no one to read. But my heart says that I want share this internal battle. I don’t have a soapbox to stand on. I don’t have a crowd saying she’s a rockin’ awesome missionary, a few good friends do cheer me on! I don’t have a bunch of things that, well,  I must not need. I do have this opportunity to share my heart before I lose courage.

So, I will leave you with my courageous thoughts:

Why is it that children and youth are intrigued by super heroes in the justice league? Why is it that lawyers and judges, police officers and public servants are impacted by super heroes? What is it about speaking up for the ones who can’t speak for themselves that causes us to feel empowered?

I believe it is what we would have wanted someone to do for us when we didn’t have a voice.

Find a fiercely victorious super hero without a dark shadow in their history and their character is probably shallow. We all want to know that there is someone standing for us on the other side of this battle. We want to know that there is someone cheering us on through this present victory. We all want to know that someone has conquered the darkness in the shadows.

What is in the shadow? That is a question that so many of us think we are prepared to answer. I long for deeper awareness. There is something in the shadow that looms over me, but I am almost never aware of. As soon as the light is shed on one subject, the shadow seems to fight back. It tries to grow stronger.

I’m not totally aware of the shadow that stirs my emotions of uncertainty tonight. If I was, I’m certain that I would insist on it’s silence. I don’t feel like facing another thing. What if Jesus is asking me to look past the injustice, past the darkness looming over me and into his beautiful face? Will I deny him this time? Will I focus on the darkness looming overhead, or simply press through to see the face of my super hero savior on the other side of this battle?

Keep going forward.

Keep going forward with Jesus. He's always with us! 

Lots of love, especially for courageous moms!!!! 

Missionary Momma Mia 

Gloriously beautiful failure

I learned from my mom really early in life that a mistake has the potential to become gloriously beautiful.

Some of my earliest memories are of my mom painting. I remember her with a paintbrush in her hands, paint on her fingers, or in her hair. In the 90’s she sprinkle painted onto clothes and the paint was splattered around the garage. I as so small looking at my beautiful mom with a smile on her face as she painted on t-shirts, rocks, canvases, wood and crafts.  In fact, my mom painted on almost any paintable surface. She still paints, almost every day.

I remember when we would paint together during our summer breaks from school. She would make salt-dough for us to mold and then paint. Sometimes the figure would be a mess, and she would just tell us to use our imagination. Sometimes we painted on thick watercolor paper, and I was so meticulous that any ‘mistake’ really upset me. She would tell me not to worry, that what I thought was going to be a little flower could now be turned into something new like a tree, or a person.

My big splotches of color could change the entire image and I could just have fun with it. When I relaxed and just followed the paint across the paper it turned into something that I really enjoyed, and even felt proud of. I’ve noticed that my mom was teaching me from her own experience. Some of my favorite paintings of hers are her sketches from her journal, or a painting that was totally different from the original idea or sketch because she accidentally used the wrong color, or the wrong stroke of the paint brush.

I love it. I’ve learned to celebrate mistakes as opportunities. It might be seen as a failure from the original plan’s point of view, but so often I’ve seen these mistakes become gloriously beautiful.

Here’s to letting mistakes become gloriously beautiful failures. 

Missionary Momma Mia

Sweet Restoration

I attempted to sing a song this evening. It was a riot! I just fumbled through too many of the words and missed musical cues and intros. Yet, people’s kindness towards me is inspiring. I love when people are looking for potential and assessing skill instead of harshly criticizing faults.

I may not have presented a perfect rendition of a lovely song, but at least I enjoyed trying. I’m more timid that people may think. Just because I can bust out a tune and make listeners who are music critics think it was spot on, doesn't mean it was true to the sheet music.

I wasn’t spot on tonight! It felt like a beautiful failure though. It was very enjoyable to present a gift back to Papa God after he has blessed me with such a sweet restoration of my soul, and the sweet message of a song that had been lost for me until yesterday. I had the courage to try to sing again, my heart was so tender towards Papa God.

Music isn’t just very important to me, it’s important to my life and my relationship with God. I love to sing. I sing every day. I worship in my car, the shower, and hum while I’m getting groceries. 

When it comes to music, I am pretty picky about how I ‘feel’ while listening to a song. Music that touches my heart sticks with me from the moment is touches my heart. Sometimes my feelings are my own interpretation of the lyrics, and that is why I love when people sing for me or worship over me. The singer’s heart comes through the lyrics and their interpretation of the message is touching. Maybe you don’t get what I mean by that. But as much as I love to sing, I love to listen to someone else sing beautifully and soulfully. Today, I had the opportunity to be the person who sings to bless someone else. That was special. I wonder what will come of it. A fun evening or the start of something new?

To all of my friends who have worshipped with me. I miss your voices, your guitar strums and drum beats. I miss the flute and bass. I haven’t led worship in a small group for such a long time. I haven’t had worship practice for a while. Singing with my family makes me literally pine for more community worship.  I wonder if I could sing with a band again? It will be different from singing to my boys at night, or singing in my car on my drive to class. It is commitment. This time if God brings people into my life who are talented instrumentalists and vocalists, I never want to lose the thrill of hearing them play and sing. I don’t want the work in the music to defeat the soul of the music.

A line from a song comes to mind:

“Speak to me Lord for your child is here listening” a song I heard as a teenager. The prayer is so heartfelt. I feel that prayer tonight.

Thoughtful,

Missionary Momma Mia