Friday, October 18, 2013

Pumpkins, shots, and beautiful feet: A challenge to Southern Baptists

One of my favorite pictures from our retreat--Dad and his boy share a moment on the Adriatic.

Me and my men...I am a blessed woman.

Working, working, working...making the schedule for volunteers was no little task.
How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news, who publishes peace, who brings good news of happiness, who publishes salvation, who says to Zion, “Your God reigns.” Isaiah 52:7

I'm taking a much-needed break from cleaning toilets this morning to write this. You see, today is the day Marc comes home. He's been gone a lot in October, and I've been really sick a lot in October, so our flat is, well, not the tidiest it's ever been. So I made this list on Monday of things I really wanted to accomplish, and deep-cleaning the toilets was on the list to get done before he came home. Now, I clean the toilets weekly. But this is the tooth-brush-wielding, gloves-and-a-sponge-and-serious-scrubbing kind of cleaning. Not glamorous, but definitely necessary. So why share this information with you? Because I do some of my best thinking when I'm scrubbing stuff. No kidding. And I was thinking about Christmas and Lottie Moon and our life overseas and the pumpkins I have to finish processing today, and it seemed like enough stuff for a blog. So here I am, taking a break, writing this blog. (Too much information? I'm fairly certain this isn't how Dickens or Austen or Bronte were inspired, but since I never claimed to be any of them, I guess it's okay to look into my process--just in case you ever wondered, "What made her think of THAT?" Now you know--toilet scrubbing made me think of that.) 

We can't get pumpkin in a can here. Maybe that's not a big deal for anybody else, but my family is pumpkin crazy, so I had to figure out a long time ago how to make pumpkin stuff from actual pumpkins, instead of just dumping a can of pumpkin into whatever recipe. (I bake them, season them a tiny bit, and process them with a food processor for storage, in case you were wondering.) I did the baking last night, while I was chatting with Marc and Hannah.  So today is the scraping, processing, and baking the seeds part of the process. Not really fun, but not something I mind a lot, if only because I love having it on hand for fall recipes. Plus, it makes the flat smell like Thanksgiving when they are baking. It's actually kind of lovely. And to be honest, it tastes better than the canned stuff. It really does. So it's worth it to me to go to the trouble of doing it for myself. A lot of my overseas life is like that. It's more convenient to have the stuff from America that's already done for me, but the 'real' stuff tastes better and is certainly healthier. I've learned to make a lot of 'real stuff' over the last six years, to the point that it seems normal to me. I don't think about pumpkin processing or making my own maple syrup or any of the other stuff I do here, because it's life as I know it and am used to it. Sometimes, life as we know it is simply a matter of getting used to doing things the hard-but-better way until it becomes normal. Sometimes, life as we know it is falling into old, ugly habits that entangle and bind us and seem too much trouble to get rid of for us to bother. Maybe that's not a problem for you, but for me--I have a whole list of stuff that, given the opportunity, will take hold and feel really comfortable for me, because they are easy. Anger, ugliness, bitterness...left to my own devices, these things are easy for me. Maybe for you it's laziness or complacency or any myriad of other 'deadly sins.' (Aren't they all deadly? For the wages of sin is death...) Or what about this one--getting so caught up in every day life and all its pettiness and struggle and minutiae, and forgetting to be broken for the lost around us. Europe is 99% without Christ. I have good news of great joy--salvation is here. But I live in a lovely city full of beautiful, kind, "good" people (at least for the most part). They do not see the need for their own salvation. And I haven't been everywhere in Europe by a long stretch, but my guess from speaking to colleagues is that they find the same attitude. Jesus? We are past that. That is in our history, not our future. But our neighbors are kind. They do not steal from us. They do not curse us in the street. How easy to become complacent and fail to be broken. My prayers this morning were for Vienna, for Austria, for my neighbors, certainly, but also for my own heart, that it would be broken by the darkness and lostness of this place.

What about you? Where are you broken for? I got tickled this week, because on facebook, some friends of ours from our home church were very excited to get shots. Lest you think them really strange, they were getting shots because they are going to another country on a trip, and they are making sure that they won't have any problems with things they might not be around very often in Middleburg, Florida. Their joy and excitement, even in the face of shots, which nobody likes, was palpable from 3,000 miles away. It made me smile and giggle a little. Because their excitement and joy is not about going to a place, but bringing Jesus to that place. Yes, they will see some neat stuff, for sure. But they bring Jesus. They are the people whose beautiful feet are bringing good news to the nations. And they are joyful at the prospect that God is allowing them to get shots and travel far away and minister to people whose language and culture is very different from their own. I love working with volunteers for that reason. Their energy and excitement and joy is contagious, and it often serves to rejuvenate my jaded heart. My friends and their excitement renewed my spirit. God honestly used their shots to boost my attitude and renew my commitment to what we are here, on this continent, to do. Their feet are beautiful, but their attitude and their hearts are gorgeous, too. 

Our organization talks a lot to churches about praying, giving, and going, about being on mission for Christ around the world. Gone are the days of 'bless the missionaries' kinds of prayers. If you are Southern Baptist, you likely have at least met one of your missionaries, whether someone has visited your church, your kids' camp, or your missions group. You've heard us speak, or one of our colleagues.  You have a face to put with 'missionary'--a real person whose life is invested somewhere that is not their own. Maybe you were moved to put an extra $10 in the offering plate for missions that morning. And whether it's $10 or $1,000, know that we are unbelievably grateful. We really are. But can I suggest something outrageous to you as we approach Lottie Moon Christmas Offering season? Pray about what you're supposed to give. Pray with an eye to the darkness of the world. Pray with the joyous attitude and beautiful feet of our friends from home. Pray knowing that every penny of the LMCO goes overseas and supports us and our friends and colleagues around the world. Pray and give out of a heart overflowing with the incredible blessings that God has poured out on you and broken for those who've never heard His name. Pray and give out of your own love--not for us, or even for the nations, but for the Savior whose birth we are about to celebrate. Pray and give with an attitude of joyful thanksgiving, because God saved a wretch like you. Pray and give so generously that even you are surprised by it. 

Well, friends, those pumpkins are not going to process themselves, and there is still a toilet to go. I know, I know... you're blinded by the glamor of my life. :) Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you have beautiful feet and are sharing the good news wherever you are, and that your husband is coming home tonight, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

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