Knowing

Wow. I haven't been a very good blogger, lately. It's not that there's nothing to say... it's just that I haven't had the words or creativity to say any of it. Something's coming, though, I can feel it brewing. Sometime in the next few months, I'll be writing about the Emergent Church, specifically reviewing what I remember of Rob Bell's Velvet Elvis and Brian McClaren's A New Kind of Christian. We had an incredible, incredible SIM women's retreat, this last weekend, and talked about it, a bit, so I'd like to articulate some thoughts. But I can't be bothered with all of that, just yet, because I'm into all of the end-of-the-school year jazz, end-of-Paraguay-jazz, preparing-for-the-next-step-jazz (i.e. grad school applications and car shopping), reading up on election news, and irresistible Skype calls. Did I mention irresistible Skype calls? And on top all that jazz, Joel Rosenberg's Dead Heat is consuming (ha!) every "spare" moment I have. But no worries. At the rate I'm going, I'll know how the world ends by tomorrow evening, at which point I may find time to blog. Until then, though, I just came across something I wrote back in March 2008 that may serve as a backdrop to the Emergent Church stuff that I post, later. Thanks for reading :)

Knowing

March 25, 2008

I used to know a lot more than I do, these days. I knew how to be a good Christian. I knew how to inductively study the Bible using the historical grammatical method. I knew the difference between inerrancy and infallibility, and how all scripture was God breathed and good for teaching, rebuking, and training in righteousness. I knew the difference between the civil, moral, and ceremonial codes of the Torah, and that we only have to follow the moral ones because we’re not a theocracy and because Jesus fulfilled the ceremonial part. I knew that God demanded the genocide of the Canaanites because of the cancerous affect their idolatry would have on the purity of Israel’s worship to YHWH. I knew that the conquest was a physical foreshadowing of God’s final judgment. I knew that Israel’s social injustice and spiritual idolatry ticked God off and sent them into exile. I knew that Ezekiel saw His glory depart and then return only with the incarnation of Jesus. I knew that the Sermon on the Mount was idealistic and impossible to keep. I knew that I was saved by grace through faith, because I had believed in my heart that God raised Jesus from the dead and confessed with my mouth that He is Lord. I knew how the Church sold out during the era of Constantine. I knew that I could never participate in such things as the Crusades. I knew that Martin Luther was a hypocrite and anti-Semite. I knew that Hitler used Luther’s speeches to in support of killing off the Jews. I knew how 1948 was a fulfillment of OT prophesy. I knew, though, that God was not pleased with Israel’s treatment of the Palestinians, and would certainly hold them accountable. I knew why the US trade laws needed to be changed. I knew why debts needed to be cancelled. I knew why Christians should never be Rich in an Age of Hunger. I knew that churches shouldn’t remove people from positions of leadership because they were going through a divorce. I knew that girls should never, ever get into the horizontal position with their boyfriends. I knew that Mormans and JWs were certainly not going to heaven, themselves, and were barring multitudes from entering. I knew that missionaries should never impose their home cultures upon indigenous churches. I knew that US Christians should give all their money to starting these churches, yet shouldn’t allow them to become dependant upon foreign money. I knew that missions was to be incarnational, meaning missionaries were supposed to be poor, yet missionary children should never have to actually suffer for their parents’ choices. I knew that God willed that family always comes first. Always. I knew that I, personally, was responsible to free sex slaves in Asia, sweat shop workers in India, Israel, Palestine, coffee growers in Africa, and child soldiers in South America. And I needed to save people from AIDS. I knew so much.

Except Jesus. Sure, He was my Savior. But I didn’t know Him. Since then, everything has changed. Now, I hardly know anything. Anything. Except Jesus. Somehow, I believe that He is merciful and loves me. Somehow, I believe that this love causes Him to point out things in me that are serving as a barrier between us. Somehow, I believe that this love knows my desire to do right and know Him. Somehow, I believe that He knows that I know that I don’t know and He’s ok with that. Somehow, I believe that He knows about my craving for Him and craving for my flesh, yet my desire to let it go, yet my fear of being without it. Somehow, I believe that He is my Shepherd and will unstop my ears so that I can hear and recognize His voice. Somehow, I know that He knows I am just dust and has mercy on me, this rich, spoiled, selfish, wimp of a white girl who is desperate for Him. Somehow, I hope that He won’t let me go to hell. Somehow.

I used to have so many beliefs that tethered me to God as ropes hold a boat close to the shore. I never strayed far, and everyone thought I was really close to God. And I was, geographically. And often times in content, too. But now most of them have been compromised. In their place, God has thrown me a single chord stronger than all the others. But it’s the only one. If I lose it, I’ve got nothing else. I’m scared. And yet comforted. Let us fix our eyes, then, upon Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith, who is surely able to do more than we can ask or imagine, and keep us from stumbling and present us before His glorious throne without fault and with great joy.

an ode to my sister

The following is actually something that I wrote in July '06, but in light of a few recent conversations with full-time moms, I thought I'd re-post it. You all are my heroes.

At the end of this year’s family vacation in California, I told my sister that the next blog I do would be called, An Ode to my Sister. Spending the entire week with her, her three little boys, and her husband, I was constantly awed by her selflessness. Good moms are nearly always on the clock. They don’t have the luxury of leaving their work at the office. They are always in charge. They are always Mom. Always. And the thing about my sister, is that she never ever complained. Her boys would never know they were wearing her down to the bone. She never made them feel like a burden. Never. She had amazing self-control. I can’t even begin to count the number of times my feelings of frustration and exhaustion would have gotten the best of me. But not Danielle. She always smiled. She always spoke kindly. Even on the plane ride home, after an entire week of running, she sat between her 3 and 4 year old and played with them the entire 4 hour plane ride home. She is my hero. I always talk about how I want to be more like Jesus. Well, for all of my reading, serving, presenting, and teaching, I pale in comparison to my sister, the stay-at-home-mom. And really, when I see the cost of completely giving up my comfort, time, goals, self, for the sake of others, I’m not sure I really want to be like Christ quite that badly. It’s one thing to talk about dying to Self when you know you always have the choice of whether or not you want to die. Danielle surrendered the right to chose the moment she had kids. Dying isn’t optional for her. She never just checks out and goes to her room when she needs some time alone. She’s always on the clock. Always. She is my hero.

more inspired by merton stuff

Hey, all. I just read an exciting article on BBC. In light of my last post, I thought it appropriate that I pass it on to you. Check it out and let's be sure to be lifting up the Synod, the Catholic Church, and the Italian people in prayer, this next week! Remember Isaiah 40:8- "The grass whithers and the flower fades, but the Word of the Lord stands forever."

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/7653456.stm

Also, here's the amazon.com link to Merton's book, should anybody be interested. But remember my warning- it's not for the faint at heart. It probably took my 5 years to get beyond the first 50 pages! :)

http://www.amazon.com/Seven-Storey-Mountain-Thomas-Merton/dp/0156010860/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1223254402&sr=8-1

merton quotes

Last week I finished a great book that I’ve been trying to find the motivation to read for several years, now. My uncle had recommended it and I’d bought it, probably back in 2002, but every time I picked it up it bored me to tears so I never made it very far. This time around, though, I couldn’t wait to read it, every night. So instead of giving a summary, which would be impossible to do, I’m just going to share a bunch of my favorite quotes. To give you a basic framework, though, this is a spiritual autobiography. Thomas Merton wrote it in his early 30s, 6 years after entering a Trappist monestary (a very strict order in the Catholic Church). Since I’m sharing so many and you may not want to read them all, I’ve put my favorites of my favorites in bold :) Now, for Merton, himself…

[Languedoc, France] was long wild with heresy, and with the fake mysticism that tore men away from the Church and from the Sacraments, and sent them into hiding to fight their way to some strange, suicidal nirvana (43).

And Catholics, thousands of Catholics everywhere, have the consummate audacity to weep and complain because God does not hear their prayers for peace, when they have neglected not only His will, but the ordinary dictates of natural reason and prudence, and let their children grow up according to the standards of a civilization of hyenas (56).

Who prayed for me? One day I shall know. But in the economy of God’s love, it is through the prayers of other men that these graces are given (109).

The love of pleasure is destined by its very nature to defeat itself and end in frustration (117).

I went into the dark, austere old church, and liked it. But I was scared to visit the monastery. I thought the monks were too busy sitting in their graves, beating themselves with disciplines (125).

But Providence, that is the love of God, is very wise in turning away from the self-will of men, and having nothing to do with them, and leaving them to their own devices, as long as they are intent on governing themselves, to show them to what depths of futility and sorrow their own helplessness is capable of dragging them (136).

I, whose chief trouble was that my soul and all its faculties were going to seed because there was nothing to control my appetites- and they were pouring themselves out in an incoherent riot of undirected passion- came to the conclusion that the cause of all my unhappiness was sex repression!... Day after day I read Freud, thinking myself to be very enlightened and scientific… I don’t know if I ever got close to needing a padded cell: but if I had ever gone crazy, I think psycho-analysis would have been the one thing chiefly responsible for it (137).

I don’t know how anybody who pretends to know anything about history can be so naïve as to suppose that after all these centuries of corrupt and imperfect social systems, there is eventually to evolve something perfect and pure out of them (150).

[I was] like so many others- a Communist in my own fancy- and I would become one of the hundreds of thousands of people living in America who are willing to buy an occasional Communist pamphlet and listen without rancor to a Communist orator, and to express open dislike of those who attack Communism, just because they are aware that there is a lot of injustice and suffering in the world, and somewhere got the idea that the Communists were the ones who were most sincerely trying to do something about it (150).

And that was the end of my days as a great revolutionary… The truth is that my inspiration to do something for the good of mankind had been pretty feeble and abstract from the start. I was still interested in doing good for only one person in the world- myself (164).

(in describing his cross country days at the university) Perhaps I would have been more of a success as a long distance runner if I had gone into training, and given up smoking and drinking, and kept regular hours (173).

The life of the soul is not knowledge, it is love, since love is the act of the supreme faculty, the will by which man is formally united to the final end of all his strivings- by which man becomes one with God (209).

How deluded we are by the clear notions we get out of books. They make us think that we really understand things of which we have no practical knowledge at all. I remember how learnedly and enthusiastically I could talk for hours about mysticism and the experimental knowledge of God [note- academically/ theologically speaking, mysticism is that part of spirituality where the individual has a personal relationship/ experience with God. Merton is here referring to what is typically assumed to be commonplace in evangelical Christianity.] and all the while I was stoking the fires of the argument with Scotch and soda… all one night we sat… in a big dark road house outside of Philadelphia, arguing and arguing about mysticism, and smoking more and more cigarettes and gradually getting drunk. Eventually, filled with enthusiasm for the purity of heart which begets the vision of God, I went on with them into the city to a big speak-easy where we completed the work of getting plastered (224).

I had come, like the Jews, through the Red Sea of Baptism. I was entering into a desert- a terribly easy and convenient desert, with all the trials tempered to my weakness- where I would have a chance to give God great glory by simply trusting and obeying Him, and walking in faith, the way that was not according to my own nature and my own judgment. It would be a land that was not like the land of Egypt from which I had come out: the land of human nature blinded and fettered by perversity and sin. It would be a land in which the work of man’s hands and man’s ingenuity counted for little or nothing, but where God would direct all things, and where I would be expected to act so much and so closely under His guidance that it would be as if He thought with my mind, as if He willed with my will. It was to this that I was called. It was for this that I had been created. It was for this Christ had died on the Cross, and for this that I was now baptized, and had within me the living Christ, melting me into Himself in the fires of His love (248).*

The only answer to the problem is grace, grace, docility to grace (225).

If you don’t want the effect, do something to remove the causes. There is no use loving the cause and fearing the effect and being surprised when the effect inevitably follows the cause (255).

There is nothing wrong in being a writer or a poet- at least I hope there is not: but the harm lies in wanting to be one for the gratification of one’s own ambitions, and merely in order to bring oneself up to the level demanded by his own internal self-idolatry (258).

“I can’t be a saint,” I said, “I can’t be a saint.” And my mind darkened with a confusion of realities and unrealities: the knowledge of my own sins, and the false humility which makes men say that they cannot do the things that they must do, cannot reach the level that they must reach: the cowardice that says: “I am satisfied to save my soul, to keep out of mortal sin,” but which means, by those words: I do not want to give up my sins and my attachments (260).

America… is a country full of people who want to be kind and pleasant and happy and love good things and serve God, but do not know how. And they do not know where to turn to find out. They are surrounded by all kinds of sources of information which only conspire to bewilder them more and more (269).

I had accepted Lax’s principle about sanctity being possible to those who willed it, and filed it away in my head with all my other priniciples- and still did nothing about using it. What was this curse that was on me, that I could not translate belief into action, and my knowledge of God into a concrete campaign for possessing Him, whom I knew to be the only true good? No, I was content to speculate and argue (265).

… the world [of 1939] had now become a picture of what the majority of its individuals had already made of their own souls. We had given our minds and our wills up to be raped and defiled by sin, by hell itself; and now, for our inexhorable instruction and reward, the whole thing was to take place all over again before our very eyes, physically and morally, in the social order, so that some of us, at least, might have some conception of what we had done (271).

Once again, classes were beginning at the university. The pleasant fall winds played in the yellowing leaves of the poplars in front of the college dormitories and many young men came out of the subways and walked earnestly and rapidly about the campus with little blue catalogues of courses under their arms, and their hearts warm with the desire to buy books (283).

The monestary is a school- a school in which we learn from God how to be happy (409).

[on the virtue of Gregorian chant] Instead of drawing you out into the open field of feelings where your enemies, the devil, and your own imagination and the inherent vulgarity of your own corrupted nature can get at you with their blades and cut you to pieces, it draws you within, where you are lulled in peace and recollection and where you find God. You rest in Him, and He heals you with His secret wisdom (417).

There was, I could see, something of a difference between the community proper and the nocices. The monds and the professed brothers were more deeply absorbed in things that the novices had not yet discovered. And yet looking around at the novices there was a greater outward appearance of piety in them- but you could sense that it was nearer the surface. It can be said, as a general rule, that the greatest saints are seldom the ones whose piety is most evident in their expression when they are kneeling at prayer, and that the holiest men in a monestary are almost never the ones who get that exalted look, on feast days, in the choir. The people who gaze up at Our Lady’s statue with glistening eyes are very often the ones with the worst tempers (420).

*When I read things like this, or the writings of the saints, and then hear my fellow (non-Catholic) believers talk about how Catholicism is an impersonal works-based religion, I want to laugh, cry, and scream at the ignorance and smug pride of this assumption. I’m sorry. I know that I’m talking to many people that I dearly love and highly RESPECT in most areas. And know that I’m not judging YOU, but this part of evangelical, Protestant Christianity in which many of us have been raised. And I know that it's really not a Protestant issue, either, but a human nature issue. That's just the way we are. So if you’ve made these kinds of statements, I don’t think it’s a reflection of your heart, but of the Christian culture in which your beliefs about God have been formed. But really, you just don’t know what you’re talking about. I used to think the same thing when my beliefs about Catholicism were based upon what I'd learned from Protestants, as opposed to from Catholics, themselves. I know I’m idealistic. And yes, there are many, many, many Catholics who haven’t a clue as to the meaning behind what they’re doing, especially in areas like Paraguay, where the entire culture is “Catholic.” But the same can be found among Protestants. But if you would read the writings of the saints of old, or get to know the nuns and monks in your area, I think you’d be very surprised, humbled, and challenged by the depth of their faith in and Love of God.

meltdown monday

Just yesterday I was talking with a fellow missionary and told her that I wasn’t ready to build a theology on some observations I’ve made about possibilities in God’s kingdom. And here I am, at 5:35 in the morning, compelled to post them on the internet for anyone and everyone to see. Lord, have mercy. Reader, consider my idea and judge it for yourself, with the guidance of the Holy Spirit and through the lens of Scripture.

By the time you read this, you will have probably already heard economists speculate that the USA is in for a major financial crisis. Maybe you’ve lost your job. Maybe you’ve lost what you’ve saved for retirement. Or maybe you were in the RV industry and lost your job, last month, and by now you’re deep in bills that you don’t know how you’re going to pay. Perhaps you’ll be redoing your budget in the coming weeks and will consider areas where you can slim down. Please don’t let giving to the poor be one of those areas. If it is, I can almost promise you that such a move would be disastrous. When we’re in financial trouble, our natural reaction is to grasp more and give less. Fight that tendency. In fact, make a conscious decision to do just the opposite. Why? Because Jesus said “Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." And know that I’m not saying this as a missionary who’s worried about her support running out. I’m coming home soon. I won’t have a job. I’m in as much trouble as anyone. I do say it, though, as a young woman who’s been away from home long enough to conclude that the Bible is true, and often much more literal than what I’ve always assumed.

One of the things I’ve had to deal with, these last two years, is my response to the poor. Poverty, here, is much more visible than it is, at home, and I’m relatively richer, so I can’t ignore it like I could, before. As I said, earlier, my thoughts are nowhere near ready to confess, publicly (as I’m doing, now), but like Jeremiah, I feel that it’s burning in my bones, this morning. So, this may or not be theologically sound. Take it before the Lord and decide for yourselves. These last 2 years, I’ve concluded that I’m not responsible to judge who is and who is not worthy of my generosity. This conviction has come, largely, by an overall conviction about who God is and what His kingdom is like, but the most influential specific passage of scripture has been Luke 6:30-38. Here’s my (untheologically sound) interpretation, through the lens of the subject of giving to the poor. My commentary is in italics:

Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. Seriously. Like, literally. Do to others as you would have them do to you. Not, do what’s right, but treat them how you’d want to be treated. If you were poor, would you like someone to give you stuff? You bet! If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even 'sinners' love those who love them. And if you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even 'sinners' do that. And if you lend to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit is that to you? Even 'sinners' lend to 'sinners,' expecting to be repaid in full. Did you catch that? Lend to people even if you know you won’t be paid back? That’s crazy! Yes, but that’s the way of Jesus. Yes, that’s the way of love. But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. Not just lend to poor people without expecting to get anything back, but lend to your ENEMIES without expecting repayment! Then your reward in heaven will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. Did you catch that? Even GOD is kind to ungrateful and wicked men. Not only is God kind to those who aren’t “good investments” but He’s also kind to ungrateful and wicked men! One of the most annoying things, here, is giving to ungrateful people who EXPECT generosity/ handouts from the rich. But GOD is kind to UNGRATERUL men! Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. This is the key- We’re to be like our Father. We’re to become conformed to the image of Jesus. And this is what Jesus and God do. Do we think God to be naive? Do we think we have a better system? Do not judge who is worthy of your generosity and you will not be judged. Do not condemn people for the unwise choices that they’ve made to get them where they are and you will not be condemned. Forgive their ungratefulness and you will be forgiven for yours. I’m being serious. Stop assuming that all of this is figurative: Give, and it will be given to you. Seriously. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. He also told them this parable: "Can a blind man lead a blind man? Will they not both fall into a pit? Don’t try to discern who is worthy of your generosity, because you’ll mess up in your assessment of things. You don’t know because you still see through a glass dimly. A student is not above his teacher, If God, Himself, doesn’t withhold His generosity from the undeserving (but causes rain to fall on the righteous and unrighteous, alike), who do you think you are to do any differently? If Jesus gave generously to all without finding fault, do you really think you’re more educated or “discerning” than Him? but everyone who is fully trained will be like his teacher. Someday, when you get to heaven, you’ll join Him in judging the nations. But that’s because you’ll be like Him, then. Now, you still see through a glass, dimly. Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, 'Brother, let me take the speck out of your eye,' when you yourself fail to see the plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye. Even with financial stuff. How do you know how somebody got to be where they are? How do you know you wouldn’t do something different. DO NOT JUDGE. Instead, give generously to all without finding fault, for this is what your Father does. Be perfect, therefore, as Your heavenly Father is perfect.

So there it is. I really have nothing to say except WAKE UP, AMERICA! Not Wake Up, Walmart (Sorry, D). Wake up, United States of America. We have lived in plenty, yet we have not practiced generosity. After WW2, we were a generous nation. But since then, we have become one of the developed nations with the smallest percentage of our GDP given in foreign aid. Let me ask you a question, this morning. And please know that I’ve already asked it of myself and am begging God for a second chance. What percentage of your personal budget, above your 10% tithe, did you share with the poor, last year? The first 10% doesn’t count, as that’s a debt we owe to God, not a voluntary sharing with the poor. But of the 90% that remains, how much did you give away? We can criticize our country all we want, but since being away, I have determined wholeheartedly that God HAS blessed the USA. She DID honor Him. He HAS protected and provided for her. But what have we done with those blessings? And not just the nation, at large, but what have we, His children, done with those blessings? I fear that our time to decide may be running out. It makes me think of Jane Austin’s Sense and Sensibility, when the oldest brother is given his father’s entire inheritance, and becomes convinced that his father never intended that he share it with his less fortunate half sisters. Legally, he didn’t have to. But what’s legality among brothers? How have we, the family members with wealth, cared for God’s other children who have had to go without? And if the measure of generosity that we have used will, in fact, be measured to us, what can we expect from them, in future years?

My rich brothers and sisters, let us not clutch what we have with white and trembling fingers. Instead, let us this minute repent of our selfishness, give generously even in our poverty, and humble ourselves in acknowledgment of the mercy which brings us life.

God answers prayer

OK. So have you ever heard those stories where somebody is woken up in the middle of the night to pray for somebody else, and then found out, later, that God intervened at that exact moment in time? Well, I've been a little bit down, this month. July was absolutely incredible. I celebrated my second anniversary of coming to Paraguay, entered into my last year, here, on the field, hosted an amazing group from St. Mark, with Carol coming a week earlier and my mom and sister staying a week later, spent a wonderful week at a Spiritual Life Conference with the other missionaries, enjoyed (and stressed out over) a really successful "English Night" with my students at the school, and celebrated my 28th birthday. I think that's about all. August hasn't been quite so hot, for no circumstantial reasons at all. I think July was just so exciting that I crashed like an overstimulated baby. Besides going into the month on an emotional high, I started applying for grad school and setting ministry goals for these remaining months, here, so I think I became a little overwhelmed by the changes that are coming. Instead of trusting in the Lord's love and goodness, I'd spend a few days really struggling to get my thoughts under control and not spiral into a self-centered and faithless "the world is resting on Alyssa's shoulders and she's bound to screw it all up and who knows? maybe she's not even a Christian" realm of fear. I would try to take my thoughts captive, it was just taking a lot of effort. And when I say "crashed" let me clarify before you're tempted to send down a rescue squad- most people knew nothing about my quazi-crash. It wasn't obvious to others, but totally in my head. And it wasn't constant- just maybe 2 days/ week. Nothing serious, just discouraging.

Anyway, yesterday I admitted to my mom my frustration, and I knew she'd meant it when she promised to pray for me. Then this morning I forced myself to go on a 6 mile walk/run before church. One thing I've found is that when I'm spiraling into this kind of discouragement I've got to take care of my body. The physical and spiritual are SO closely linked! As a thinker, it's so much more natural to spend an extra hour in Bible study or prayer than to get my bootie out the door for a run. But the run is exactly what our brain chemistry needs to pull out of these tailspins. If anybody reading this is in a funk, as I like to call it, take care of your body! And this advice is not coming to you from a skinny "I love sports" exercize queen! I'm the poster child for "if I can do it anybody can do it." Get moving! Also, during my run I listened to worship music and forced myself to focus on God's goodness instead of my own limitations (again, not totally natural). Good move number two. Then church was just great. You can read about it in my other blog: http://www.paraguaydailyreflections.blogspot.com/.

But after church I discovered something that made the morning even more amazing (as if it could get any better). We took communion sometime between 10:30 and 11. Probably around 10:45, we were singing, and though I can't explain it, I knew that I was redeemed and loved by God, and that was all that mattered. God loved me. It wasn't anything crazy. It wasn't a huge aha. It was just a peace. It was as if something touched my forehead and said, "Be Still. You are loved." And somehow, I knew that it was true. This afternoon, I called my mom to tell her about all of the people who came to church, this morning, and at one point she mentioned that their Sunday School class had prayed that God would encourage my heart, this morning. Her best guess is that they were praying for me around 10:45.

SMMC trip to Paraguay

Hey, all. I thought I'd direct you to my July post the St. Mark Paraguay team blog. For those of you who don't know, I had an amazingly wonderful group of people from my home church come down in July to do a VBS for the missionary kids during our Spiritual Life Conference. I would be remiss to leave it out of my personal blog!!!

http://www.teamparaguay2008.blogspot.com/

Also, I just finished and sent out a prayer letter, last week. I'm assuming that most who find my blog will do so through my letter. But if you happen to have not received it and want to, just let me know and give me your e-mail address. Thanks!