Not My Home...
I have been back in the United States just over 36 hours. It took me 36 hours to get from East Africa to DFW. Somewhere in those numbers is a calculation that should balance out and return me to "normal." But as I look at the disheveled boxes (assembled by my sons late last night) I know I am no where near normal and won't be anytime soon. It doesn't take a calculator to understand I am in a state of chaos.
Two days before I left for Tanzania, the management company hand-delivered a letter informing all residents of the demolition of our "homes." For some, this apartment complex has been a place of comfortable residential community for over 30 years. Yes, you did read that correctly.
Apartments are often thought of as "transitional" places to live; when you first move away from the home of your parents, while you are at school, until you get married, after you get divorced, until your "real" and stable life of home ownership begins. But reality is not a Milton Bradley version of "Life." "First you start out with two thousand and a car." Oh, if things were that lyrical on the way.
"I wonder, "Will I ever make it- arrive in God's presence?" I'm on a diet of tears- tears for breakfast, tears for supper. All day long people knock at my door, pestering, "Where is this God of yours?" These are the things I go over and over, emptying out the pockets of my life." Psalm 42:2-4
I am leaving this "sanctuary" of eight years to create a new one just up the road. As I look at the mountain of boxes and all my "stuff" I am definitely overwhelmed. As soon as I officially vacate this place for the next - I will be back on a plane off to serve the Marine Special Operations Command (MARSOC) in South Carolina (August 17-23).
Somewhere covered in the stack is my suitcase that still needs to be unpacked. I cried this morning (again or still) at the thought of the task at hand. I cried because I want to be effective and efficient and out in the Harvest Fields. I pray for this next week to be a "Forrest Gump" one. You remember when he was being chased by the bullies with his clanking leg braces on? His friend Jenny cheered him from the sidelines, "Run Forrest, Run!" The things used to straighten him up fell by the roadside. He was RUNNING!
"Do you see what this means - all these pioneers who blazed the way, all these veterans cheering us on? It means we'd better get on with it. Strip down and start running and never quit!" Hebrews 12:1
We had an extraordinary time in Tanzania. Over 700 women (and men) heard teaching on the love of Christ and His grace, mercy and mission for those who follow Him. 150 Maasai tribal women received the gift of the Living Word of God. All attendees were given certificates of achievement. And we fulfilled Jesus instructions to His disciple Peter, to "feed My sheep." Each day those in attendance were served a hot meal to sustain and nourish them. Many walked over 3 hours to attend and would have a 3 hour walk to return to their village. Recounting those hardships and difficulties eases the thought of packing and moving in 105• heat.
In 1996, John Piper gave a sermon on "Doing Missions When Dying is Gain." He recounts the story of two Moravians. They knew they would never return to the "sanctuary" of the homeland they were leaving. They knew there was a nation of lost souls that needed to hear the love of Christ and the only way they could was if someone WENT. They sold themselves into slavery and headed to the West Indies.
As the boat drifts out into the harbor they lift their hands and say, "May the Lamb receive the reward of His suffering."
I lift my hands in praise to the Lamb for the world He has allowed me to witness.
I lift my hands in praise for the nations who have responded to the Good News and will send out missionaries to distant lands
I lift my hands in praise at the chaos, for out of chaos came Creation!
I lift my hands in praise for THIS IS NOT MY HOME!
I lift my hands in praise, for worthy is the Lamb!
Move over Moravians
Charlynn adrift
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