This from Bill:

Working with college students and teaching in the Seminary, I am frequently confronted with the idea that the Bible is just the invention of men. This morning, in my quiet time, I was reading Galatians and noted that Paul confronted the same issue! That lead me to the following thoughts:

^{Gal 1:11} “I want you to know, brothers, that the gospel I preached is not something that man made up.” – People often say that they don’t trust the Bible because it is just teachings of men. Paul addresses this directly, continuing to say, ^{Gal 1:12} “I did not receive it from any man, nor was I taught it; rather, I received it by revelation from Jesus Christ.” Paul is saying that he is a prophet like Moses; that is, just as God and Moses met on the mountaintop, where God revealed the Law to Moses, Jesus did the same with Paul, explaining the Gospel of salvation by grace through faith. Paul didn’t just think of it. He didn’t make it up. Jesus revealed it. Some people, even some Christians, are not comfortable with that. They like to think that the Gospel evolved, naturally. It did not. It was a supernatural, burning bush, shining light, knock-you-off-of-your-horse-on-the-road-to-Damascus epiphany (God appearance). 

The question is, does God really speak? Does God really appear on the scene? The notion of the Gospel being invented by men or just a collection of human teachings presupposes that God does not appear on the scene, or that God does not talk or reveal things miraculously. In Paul’s context with the Galatians, some humans have added to the Gospel, to make salvation a thing of grace plus works. Their fallacy was thinking that they could add to what Jesus had miraculously revealed (like they could improve on His revelation). The modern day fallacy is that God doesn’t reveal anything; i.e., that Moses never saw a real burning bush and that Paul never actually met the resurrected Christ. Paul’s first-hand testimony to the Galatians doesn’t allow for either.

Bringing hope and the Gospel to Iquitos

I love ministering in Iquitos, Peru -- in the Amazon basin (a. k. a. jungle). We have two LACCC schools there: Victoria de Jesus in Belen and Luz del Saber in Punchana. The district of Belen floods every year, so our students have to walk to school on a network of planks, above the water. It's often scary, dirty and stinky. But it's also a blessed adventure filled with lovely people (like Venice, Italy, but without plumbing). I thank the Lord that we can bring hope, food, education and (most of all) Jesus to these beautiful kids. Thanks for making it possible. Below are some of my favorite photos from my trip last March, when the flood waters were high. You can find more pics from this trip here: 2014-03 Iquitos.

Pastors Fernando and Jose are great friends and I'm honored to work with them bringing the Gospel and hope to Iquitos.

Where did you drop it?

You can see more from this trip here.

University Evangelism

This from Bill:

Lena and I began the past year with a strong emphasis on University ministry. Here, in Peru, we call Chi Alpha, La Red Universitaria de Las Asambleas de Dios -- the University Network of the Assemblies of God. It's been an exciting experience for both of us. Lena is doing multiple evangelistic Bible studies with students from various campuses, and both of us have taught at churches and national youth leaders conferences about how to start a campus ministry. The pictures above and below are of us teaching on Evangelism. These pics were taken at the "Christ - Light of the World" church in Trujillo, which has six small groups on 5 campuses! I'm a big fan of using a white board, instead of PowerPoint slides (because I like the organic nature and the intentional emphasis on content over form). After I teach, I take a picture of the white board and invite the students to do the same. Looking at these boards reminded me of what a great time we had! After taking the college students and leaders through some basics of university evangelism, we hit the streets and had a blast talking with people about Jesus. I was very proud of Will, my younger son, who (with unassuming warmth and friendliness) is an incredibly effective evangelist! 

For this event, we were joined by our friends Shawn and Melissa Pallotta, who (along with their kids) have a very prophetic ministry. Shawn and I taught on making godly decisions.

Some of the evangelism themes we covered included: 

1) The power of your personal testimony (Rev. 12:11). 
2) Basic components of the Gospel (1 Cor. 15). 
3) Apologetics -- explaining why the Christian faith is reasonable (that is, it's requires faith, but not blind faith). Also, Jesus claimed to be God, therefore he is either a Liar, a Lunatic or the Lord (hint: it's the last one!)

4) The best 3 questions to do Evangelism: If you died tonight, do you know where you would go? If you were in front of Jesus and he asked you why he should let you into heaven, what would you say? And, the best question of all: How can I pray for you?

Peruvians love their late night soccer matches, which provides a great way to make friends and share the Gospel with your neighbors. These pics are of Colton (above) and Antonio Pallotta (below) playing.

Colton and Antonio also teamed up for some street evangelism, outside the C&T Restaurant.

Why I disciple

This from Bill:

Matthew 28:18-20 is the Great Commission, in which Jesus commands us to "make disciples." But, that isn't what motivates me. On an emotional or motivational level, the reason why I disciple people is that I’ve had a life changing encounter with Jesus that is real and profoundly positive. It’s not like everything that happens to me is positive, but experiencing Christ and being transformed by Him – that has been overwhelmingly positive. I strive to introduce others to Jesus and his way of life because I want them to have as good a life as I have. I frequently challenge young adults who are making self-defeating decisions to imitate my life, because I know that I have a better marriage and a happier life than the vast majority of the world. “For I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes: first to the Jew, then to the Gentile. (Romans 1:16)”

Merry Christmas 2014 from the Luz y Verdad (Light and Truth) School

The Vultures of Iquitos -- a photo journal

The national bird of Peru is the "Cock-of-the-Rock." It gets its name from the practice of building its nests on rocky cliffs. It is rare and beautiful. 

But, in popular culture, the Cock-of-the-Rock is overshadowed by the massive Condor -- which is worshipped by indigenous peoples throughout South America.








Then there is the ignoble vulture. It is extremely common and not at all impressive—unless you like animals that eat garbage and cool themselves off by pooping on their legs. It is to the Amazon basin what rats are to New York -- ubiquitos, filthy and very large. If Ansel Adams can be famous for his pictures of National Parks and Annie Liebovitz can be famous for her photos of celebrities, then I thought that maybe I (Bill) should try my niche at a lovely collection of “The Vultures of Iquitos, Peru.” These shots were taken on the playground of Luz del Saber (one of our Latin America ChildCare schools) in Iquitos.

Sinless

This from Lena:

I was in the market today and noticed as one of the vendors bowed her head to pray before she ate her lunch.  I was touched at her reverence, and asked her if she was a believer in Jesus.  I wasn’t really looking for a witnessing situation—just a moment to connect with a Jesus lover. 

The conversation continued, and I asked if she was an evangelical believer.  She said no, but that she was a Christian.  I had never met people here before saying that they were Christian, but denying being an evangelical, apart from an occasional Catholic.  I asked her what she perceived the difference to be, and she informed me that she doesn’t sin anymore.

Really.

I told her that First John was a great book in the Bible, and that it says that he who says he is without sin is a liar, and the truth isn’t in him.  She looked shocked, and questioned my version of the Bible (just for the record, she was King James only, but in Spanish).  She was new to this path, but not very shaken by my challenging words, and invited me to come to her church so I could understand better.

I left my new friend, telling her that I wasn’t interested in an argument, and I encouraged her to get into the Book herself, so that she could start to sift things that are taught in regard to the true teachings of Christianity.  I was afraid to push her—I have heard stories of people starting out with the Jehovah’s Witnesses, or the Mormons, and becoming disillusioned when they realized that what they were learning was not true, and throw all of it out together.  I left a bit deflated, and angry that someone had routed a soul’s honest attempt to follow Christ as a repentant sinner.  Now she is “sinless.”  I feel sorry for her family and friends, who now have no way to speak into her life, as she is currently completely free of sin!

Peru is a minimally literate country.  Latin America in general is not a print-rich region of the world, but compared with the rest of Latin America, we fall toward the very bottom.  This creates vulnerability among our believers, because many of our brothers and sisters here have never read an entire book of the Bible---and I am talking about faithful ones!  These are the 20% who do all the work, lead the worship, and facilitate cell groups.  So what happens when a false teaching comes along?  The heresy sensors don’t go off, and the church is often fighting off bad teaching.

Bill and I are passionate about Peruvian believers becoming strong in the Word.  This is one of the reasons Bill is teaching in the seminary this year, even though it comes at a high cost in time and effort.  We need pastors and leaders who handle the Bible well and teach their people to read it and study it for themselves.  This is also a reason why I am doing an English conversation group based on the life of Christ aimed at university students (nonbelievers and believers combined).  We want to get people into the Word by all means possible until it penetrates—separating even the bone from the marrow.  It never fails to do the same for me!

Lena teaching university students about discipling new believers in Argentina

Bill giving our first pitch to Peruvian youth leaders on the importance of university ministry

Mark Randall Memorial

On September 25, I was in a small bus crossing the border from Peru into Bolivia. Lena called with the news that my friend, Mark Randall, had passed away. Mark was one of my closest friends. We worked together in XA since 1989, when I was serving at the University of Louisville (with Joe and Jayne Zickafoose). We worked together on the SALT and SICM planning teams. We also vacationed together. My kids loved going to "Uncle Mark's" lake to go skiing. Mark was one of the friends who continued to call me, long after we moved to Peru. And he was one of the friends that I called whenever I had a hard decision to make. He was filled with faith and had a very good head for business. He was an inspiration, especially in the area of Evangelism. 

It was painful to not be able to go to his funeral--especially since I wanted to comfort his many disciples, who were like children to him. Mark never married, but that didn't stop him from having a lot of love in his life. He loved my kids like they were his family. He also loved his XA disciples the same way. He had a gift for encouraging the best in others and steering them to use their gifts for the Gospel. As such, the verse that came to mind when I heard of his passing was Isaiah 54:1, “Sing, barren woman, you who never bore a child; burst into song, shout for joy, you who were never in labor; because more are the children of the desolate woman than of her who has a husband," says the LORD. (NIV)” 

Since I couldn't be at the funeral, I decided to make a video of what I would have said. I posted that video here.

I'm grateful for Mark and I have no doubt that on September 25, Jesus said to him, "... Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness! (Matt. 25:23)."

When We Ask Jesus to Leave.

 This from Lena:

Everyone else had given up on the Village Scary Guy.  You know who I am talking about—the one who sets your spiritual Geiger counters to the tune of the William Tell Overture.  The Bible clearly states that folks re-routed their paths to avoid the lifeless zone where he wandered.  Where everyone else took their u-turn,   Jesus headed straight in his direction and cast a whole crew of demons out of him and into a herd of pigs worth a fortune.  The townspeople react like a mother who just found her toddler “decorating” her new Coach bag with permanent marker.  They weren’t happy. 

To Jesus, the treasure of one soul was worth the porcine fortune lost in one glorious episode of rescue.  The freedom of one soul was worth more than a treasure trove of bacon and pork chops.  Can you imagine how much even one of those pigs cost?  Can you imagine how freaky it was to see the Village Scary suddenly sane and harmless-looking at the same time you see a herd of dead pigs floating in the river?  It was disgusting, gross, scary, and messy.  So they asked Jesus to leave.

This one fact—that they asked Jesus to leave—won’t leave me lately.  I can’t stop feeling broken over their desire for him to leave. 

At that moment of determining to follow Jesus, every truly-saved sinner knows what was going on in his own heart.  The sense that this Jesus is really going to “mess up my life”  is imminent.  He starts reviewing all the things he suspects this crazy savior—crazy enough to give his life for us willingly—is going to ask of him. The first rays of light in ages breaks into his creepy attic, and instinctively we know that a housecleaning is about to begin. 

Even more so, there are moments when seeking Jesus looks weird or even crazy…praying for someone with serious disabilities, cancer.  I suspect that casting demons out looks more orderly for those with a lot of practice, but so far my experiences have been crazy looking.  Following Jesus means that you begin to walk in a reality that is not visible, and you become a member of a Kingdom that has different rules than this earth. 

I remember a moment when I was still new in the Lord and I was in a coffee house with a friend.  She was such a sweet believer…the Lord had rescued her out of many things, and as we talked, we felt the presence of the Holy Spirit growing stronger.  There was an electric presence of the Holy Spirit that day.  We were talking about revival and how much God wanted to touch the little college town where we lived.  I remember thinking, “What are you up to, Lord?”  One of those famous local crazy guys was also in the coffee house.  If I had been alone, I probably would not have engaged him, but my friend had such a loving presence, and she began to talk to him.  She told him how much Jesus loved him and had such a sweet tone.  I was already feeling the presence of the Spirit, and I can’t tell you if it was the “mature” thing to do, but I started rebuking the evil spirits in my prayer language, and the guy threw his cup of coffee at me.  The owners asked us to leave, called the cops, and closed the coffee shop for the afternoon.  True story.

I know that there are those who will say that I was immature, that we shouldn’t have “gone there.”  To be honest, I am not sure it would play out like that in my life today.  I can tell you, though, that our hearts at that moment were set on following Jesus and seeing his Kingdom come, and that is how it ended!

 I have a hate/love relationship with these crazy moments when He wins me….I hate risk, and I am anything but an adventurer at heart,  but when He gets a hold of me, there is no telling what He will talk me into. 

I wish I could say that every time he has tried to break the part of me that prefers control to holy insanity, that he has won.  I don’t want to ask him to leave, ever…and yet, I know that my actions betray me.  There are days when you just know that if you step just one baby step closer to the Lord, you are going to be signing your name to some costly enterprise.  Costly perfume is going to pour, or some pigs are going over the cliff.  We reach that moment of decision and…we either take a step closer or step away.  Some say the cost is just too high and they ask Jesus to leave.  Others step into the crazy without regret.

Will and Abi talk to kids about life in Peru

Sometimes churches call and ask us for videos about our ministry or our life in Peru. This is one that was produced by three of our kids (Colton, Will and Abi) regarding their lives in Peru.

Will explains a Simple Electric Motor

Each year, the Shrader family has one or more entries in the International Christian School of Lima Science Fair. The 2014 entry came from Will, who built a small electric motor, then had to explain how it works. Will produced two videos: the first is entitled, May the Force be with you, is short and sweet (but to see it, you have to go here). The second is below.

Kingdom of Heaven Lessons in a Baby Church

This from Lena:

We have been enjoying a fresh season these last 8 months of seeing a baby church take shape!  We are part of an international team of missionaries who are working together to sort out the difficult task of forming our identity as a church and how we present it.  One of the great joys of this process is seeing people come to Christ and being witnesses to the transformation that is taking place—and also the great responsibility we have to correctly present the Kingdom of God to these baby believers!  As I have specifically focused on the Kingdom of God in my recent studies, here are a few scripture points that have stuck in my heart. I wanted to share them with you, too!

In the Kingdom of Heaven…

Mark 1:15 Repentance is a precursor for citizenship.  We can paint things as pretty as we like, we can try to de-uglify sin and make it sound as though they have just made an oversight until now….but if the recognition of our own sinfulness is not there, followed by sincere repentance, we run the risk of misrepresenting the gospel.  I remember being 18 at an Amy Grant concert, trying to convince myself that I was fine—that my dark little teenaged soul didn’t need rescuing (yeah-back then there was an altar call after an Amy Grant concert!  And tracts on the way in!).  It was a horrible experience.  I was so glad to finally walk that humiliating walk to the altar and lay my burdens down.  We need to not cheat others of the revelation of their own sin and need for a root change of heart.

Luke 11:20 Demons gotta go.  I am not sure why, recently, we have had so many encounters of the demonic kind—but we have had many in the last 8 months.  I think it is interesting that demons can even sit through a sermon politely, but once the individual starts doing serious business with God, demons get pretty angry about the breach of contract.  At first, I wanted to try to make sense of the fact that in 20 years or more of ministry, I have not seen anywhere near the consistent appearances I have seen in the last 8 months.  Now, I sort of wonder what was wrong before, that they were comfortable to hang out around me.  Perspective!

Luke 9:2 Citizens of the Kingdom of God are supposed to be praying for the sick!  I have heard testimonies galore of healings and I have been present for some healings…but I want a lot more.  I think we should be totally going for it.  I have heard that Heidi Baker became determined to just keep praying for healings until she saw them up close.  She prayed for hundreds before seeing anything.  I don’t want to quietly accept sickness.  If we don’t ask, we won’t receive.

Matt 21:31 Audacious sinners of the past who are now obeying Christ passionately are entering the Kingdom quicker than good religious talkers.  I think we all better take note of this one. What a dangerous place it is to be where you know how to play the game all too well; that is, to make people think you are on Jesus’ speed dial, when you are just playing a game.  It doesn’t matter if you are a missionary, pastor, worship leader, or the church’s accountant.  Obedience is where the blessing is—in the secret place, where nobody knows what you are doing.  But someone does. And we are not talking about yesterday.  Today.  Now. 

Matt. 13: 1-23 You’ve got to sow a lot of seed to get some of it to stick. People are hindered from entering the Kingdom by  a variety of things—sometimes they are just blind to the truth because they are so lost in sin and haven’t been made desperate enough yet for an alternative.  These folks are the blank stares and social smiles we get when we try to evangelize.  Then there are those you have a good conversation with, but it goes nowhere. It may not have been because you did a horrible job—which you might have. But even the fact that you were trying calls them to wake up to their real need.  I am convinced that a lot of people don’t let on that they know Jesus is real because they know life is going to change radically the minute after they give their life to him.  Let’s not lie—that is very true.  You might lose your friends, your addictions (those are DEFINITELY gonna have to go), your comforts, or even your job.  All this to say—sowing is hard work, and you don’t have any control over the soil you are preaching to.  The only thing we can control is how much seed we scatter.  Let’s scatter a LOT.

Matt 13:31-2 Some of that seed you scattered is going to surprise you with how big and well it grows. If you scatter enough seed, you are going to get to see some folks really explode.  Maybe they will even pass you!  In our later years of campus ministry, Bill used to tell our university students that they were his last hope for greatness!  He said it jokingly, but he meant it.  “Grow as far as you can grow little seed!  Pass me up!”  That should be our heart for all we nurture in Christ.

Matt 13: 24-30 You don’t really know who’s who until the end.  I suspect that this dynamic is a little like reading our donors list.  We realized long ago, and with great humility, that some of the sweetest little ladies on Social Security are the most faithful and have been the longest, steadiest supporters. I think it will be that way at the final judgment.  I try to warn myself periodically to not become Miss Fancy Pants Missionary—because there may be some rude awakenings at the end, if I see some surprises up ahead of me in line!

I hope this list at least gave you something to think on.  I am so thankful for the opportunity to help form a new church and disciple the new citizens.  Blessings to all of you!

One of our sweet young believers giving her testimony of how the Lord has been changing her life!

Mario and Aaron -- Fatherless boys in Catacaos

This from Bill: Here's a recent video I made in Catacaos (Piura), Peru. It's a brief introduction to two very needy Latin America ChildCare students -- Mario and Aaron. Their father passed away last year, leaving their widowed mother with three kids. She's a faithful member of the church we work with. As you can see, they live in a grass hut, which has a dirt floor.

If you'd like to sponsor these boys, please let me know.

Bill and Lena's Peru Update - March 2014

Lena and I are grateful to serve as missionaries to Peru. We're also grateful to our friends who've partnered with us in this great adventure. Thank you!

Please click on the picture (at right) to see our latest update.

Bill and Lena's Peru Update - click here.

The Fun and the Folly

This one is from Bill:

It was a dark night in a strange town. I was in the mountain town of Ayacucho, which means “Corner of the Dead.” It is a town well known for spiritual warfare and is the same town where my transmission died in November. So, now I want to rename Ayacucho to mean “costly town” or even “Ouchy-cucho” (which is what Charo, the famous flamenco guitarist, says when she hears how much it costs to fix a transmission). Colton, Willy and I went there to give out Christmas gifts to students and orphans in our Latin America ChildCare program. We finished giving out the gifts and were heading for the bus station. The street was really dark and on a steep hill. As I crossed the street, I stepped onto a storm sewer grate that was broken. My leg went through a separation in the iron bars and I fell with my leg trapped in a small shaft. It was horribly frightening and left me crying out, “Oh God, Oh God, Oh God!” I also said some other things that might be translated to mean, “Oh no! Wow, what a surprise!” and “Oh boy! I wonder how deep this shaft is and if I’m going to survive!” Colton and I were sure that my leg was broken; but after I pulled it out of the hole (with help from equally frightened bystanders), I was able to walk. The only apparent damage was that my shin was scraped and bruised.

Two weeks later, still bruised but able to walk without pain, I found myself in the city of Trujillo, doing ministry with my friends Shawn and Melissa Pallotta. We went to Trujillo to do a retreat for college students and people involved in Campus Ministry. (College students + prophetic friends = my favorite kind of retreat!) Trujillo is on Peru’s northern coast and is famous for surfing and the pastor we were working with (Jhonatan Boulangger) loves to surf. So, with a few hours of free time before our afternoon session, we hit the waves. I got up right away and rode many successful waves that day. When I was taking off my wet suit, I noticed that my ankle was swollen. I thought it was from a bug bite and didn’t think much of it. A week later, back in Lima, I noticed that my leg was really swollen, again. After chatting with some friends about it, I finally came to the realization that it may have been a good idea to get my leg X-Rayed after that fall in Ayacucho. Sure enough, the leg was broken. The doctor showed me the X-ray and said that the Fibula (the smaller of the two bones in your lower leg) does not support your weight—which is why I was able to walk. He then explained that surfing with a partially healed fibula was the broken bone version of grinding your teeth together—thus producing a dumbfounded missionary with a swollen leg. So, that is the fun and the folly. Surfing with friends while on a retreat for college students was the fun part. But, surfing on a broken leg is great folly, no matter how much fun it is. Since the Fibula was already healing (and it’s really hot here), the doctor opted against putting it in a cast. I have to put my foot up for a week and give it a chance to heal. It’s actually working out well for me. Being forced to sit still has given me a chance to focus in prayer – which sometimes leads to an unintentional nap! And we all know that that is what my leg needs to heal.

P.S. I posted the picture at the top of the page to try and make it look like I'm in control. The picture directly above tells a more complete story. You can see from the wake behind my board that I had just cut off Colton. I was heading straight for the folks to my left and had to swerve to avoid wacking them in the head. So, I cut to the right and screamed, "Colton, look out! I can't steer this thing!" Thankfully, Colton ditched out on what was turning out to be one of his best waves of the day. My son gave up his "glory wave" so that 1) his dad would look good riding all the way to the shore, or 2) to save his life!

P.S.S. 40 years ago, my mom and dad planned a trip to Hawaii to celebrate my father's 50th birthday. He was really looking forward to surfing. Just before they were to leave, my father had the first of a long string of heart attacks. He never got to Hawaii and never got to surf. Now, whenever I get in the big waves (whether I'm surfing or boogie boarding), I dedicate the experience to dad.

P.S.S.S. For those who might be tempted to think that by surfing, we're living "high on the hog," I'd like to clarify two points: 1) We don't even own a hog, and 2) it only cost me $12 to really damage my partially healed leg.

God's Got Your Numbers

This from Lena:

Every once in a while these days, I slip up and count out 6 plates instead of the 5 our family now requires.    We left one of our best legacies (our 19 year-old Hannah) back home in the States this past summer.  I hate when I miscount, because it usually brings with it a pang of missing my oldest  daughter, my no-nonsense, type-A extrovert sunshine.  My Peruvian motherly friends are wonderful for consoling me, as most of them find the thought of sending their sweet baby birds out into the world for the sake of education a ghastly proposition.   Still, like the rest of my American Mom friends, I believe in the value of giving that little birdie some help out of the nest. 

Almost ten years ago, we had no plans to go full-size on the mini-van.  Our cap family-size number was 5—a very practical number that we had settled on because at the time there was a three-child cap in missions of the Assemblies of God, and we felt that we would go into missions some day, and wanted to go with the Assemblies.  We decided to plan 2, and leave a little room for a surprise, but something had happened years earlier that planted a tiny questioning seed about whether our numbers were going to line up with God’s.

Years earlier, when we were trying to get pregnant with our second child,  we received a cryptic phone call from a member of our church. 

Prophetic Lady: “Pastor Bill, do you know whether or not that baby your wife is carrying is a boy?”  (She did not know that we were trying to have a baby, and for all we knew at the time, I was not pregnant.)

Bill: “My wife isn’t pregnant.”

Prophetic Lady: “Oh, I see.   Well, you do know the families___________and___________---do you know that I prophesied their babies?” (This is not an exact quote, just so you get the drift).  “Well, Pastor Bill, can I ask you how many children do you plan on having?”

Bill (read in slightly uncomfortable tone): “Uh…two?”

Prophetic Lady: “Why not four?”

That phone conversation never left us completely; especially because just a short while after, we found out we were indeed pregnant, and we were having a boy!  We laughed about it through the years, how surprising it was that our sister knew before we did that we were pregnant with a boy, but never in a mocking way, as if the entirety of that word might not be true.  Bill and I both believe that God can and does at times speak prophetically into the lives of his children.  We also understand that the best-intentioned child of God needs some room for error, so we weigh these things against the Word of God and what actually comes to pass.

Years passed (around 6 of them), and the desire to go into missions grew, and it went into overdrive when we received a prophetic gift of two alpaca sweaters (you will have to read about our call in this blog for THAT story!).  The day we received that gift was within 24 hours of us finding out that we were going to have Abigail.  The fourth baby.  The not-planned baby.  The baby that would disqualify us for missions with the Assemblies, arriving at the same moment as the call.

Except for it didn’t disqualify us.  We didn’t even know, but at that time the child limit had been lifted.  We also had not taken our age into account, because previously we would not have qualified because we were over 35.  Over 35, four kids….and headed into missions.

When I think of how all of that converged, I am in awe of His math. He knows all our numbers….the happy ones and the sad ones.  He knows how many kids we will have, the day we lose our parents, the day we graduate from college.   He knows how many houses we will live in, and even the house addresses.  He knows the day you lost the baby, and that that same baby is now safe and happy with him.  The mature among us acknowledge that all those numbers are best left safely in his hands, without us trying to cajole Him to a pre-mature release of information. He shares what will be to our benefit, and we trust Him with the rest.

When I think of what I would have missed if my plan had been the end of it, I am filled with thankfulness.  I can’t imagine life without our little number 6, and I can’t help but wonder what other mysterious un-planned numbers He holds that I wouldn’t ever choose for myself, but will treasure some day.  Those mysterious numbers can be like a gift so well-chosen, and yet you hadn’t thought of before….and over time, it becomes one of your favorites.  

Wood Piles and Sweaty Little Scripture Books

This from Lena:
It was the wood in the garage that did me in.  It pulled me out of denial, basically. The wood is stacked every which way in my parents’ garage.  It is evident that my dad thought through how he was going to keep all that stored…there is a sort of order to it, even though the overall appearance is chaos.  Piles and piles of it.  What was it that he was planning on making?  He clearly had enough lumber to make a tree house, a tool shed, AND replace the picnic table he made 30 years ago.   Interspersed are dry, stripped   chair frames with a broken leg or lacking a seat that he was going to fix and refurbish for someone so long ago that we don’t remember who owned them.

Emotionally, people generally deal with belongings of their departed dear ones in one of two ways.  They either cling to it for dear life, as if it actually WAS the person who is now gone from this earth, or they robotically pitch it the day after the funeral because it hurts to look at it.  I lean toward the pitch (to the frustration of my more sentimental momma and sisters), dreaming of what I would do if I had 24 hours and free reign to purge, but the wood did something else in my heart besides propel me to throw it to the curb.  It tore a hole in a veil of denial in my own heart.

My dad was an awesome guy.   He was happiest when he was downstairs in his workshop , working on a piece of furniture.  My dad was a printer who worked in a constant drone of heavy machinery, and often arrived frazzled and exhausted—and yes, crabby-- to three giggly girls.  The three of us knew to leave him alone if he was reading or in the bathroom (we fought over who had to interrupt him to ask him something many times) but we also KNEW that if Dad was downstairs in his workshop listening to jazz music, it was the best time of all to talk to him.  When the conditions were right, one of us would feel the change in the environment and head downstairs for a heart to heart.  He was his best there—kind,  thoughtful, wise---and contented.  He loved furniture, wood, the smell of varnish.  At the root, I know exactly what my dad was thinking when he lovingly gathered each stick of lumber.  Each one was a little creative dream that was brewing in his heart.  Those dreams started small, but grew.  There are woodworking magazines in the house, bookmarked with the seeds of a project.  I don’t really know if he ever started preparing to make these things.  I just know that there is a ton of wood out there, and that somewhere in my teen years, most of the wood dreams slowed to a narrow trickle.

I do the same thing with quilting fabric.  My rate of production as a quilter is similar to some plant in a botanical garden that only blooms once a decade.  I take pictures of Spanish tiles in Peru that I want to reproduce in a quilt.  I page through Pinterest when I am bored and look for ideas.  I have three quilt projects that are undone and sitting to my side, untouched for at least a year.  I totally understand the wood. 

I also understand---and this awareness has come through the pain of losing my dad---that the dreams we will have on this earth will end.  In my 20s, I lived like life was an eternal proposition.  I was full of dreams, but the push to see them come true was somewhat vague, and seemed far off. 

Now in my 40s, I have lost my dad, whose dreams are still out in the garage, untouched.  My back hurts and it takes a few seconds when I get up to work out the kinks.  I wear progressive lenses and sensible shoes.  OK, so I have always worn sensible shoes, but that is beside the point.  I don’t really want to be inspired anymore…I want to be confronted.  I want to dangerously rip the rest of the veil off that I caught a glimpse of in the garage that day, because if I don’t, I might die with way too many bins of fabric.  I don’t want my kids to rummage through my belongings with sadness for all the things I dreamed of but never dared attempt.  And that is a real danger—much sadder than trying and failing and dragging a wood pile to the curb.

 I want them to treasure just a few things of mine.  I have been working for the last year on Bible memorization, one book at a time.  I am not fabulous at it at all.  Every verse seems to be a fight.  But when I die, my goal is to have a huge stack of these little booklets I use to memorize as I walk, and that my kids will be tempted to fight over them because of the meaning and perseverance it produced in my life--although if they don’t, I will understand, because they are really sticky and gross!  But you get the picture.  I want them to want my recipe book, because I put a lot of care into making them good meals.  I want them to even HAVE enough quilts so that each one can have one (as of today, only Hannah owns one)--a few things, and not too many wood piles.

So, I am carefully examining my wood piles these days.  I am fairly confident that some of them will be thrown to the curb, because not all wood piles are created equally.  Some I would have liked to do, but the time has passed.  Some I have tried to get rid of, but they keep on finding a way back into my heart and announcing their permanence in my life, the way a truly God-breathed wood pile does.  It hurts to tell myself the truth about the things I have delayed, as though God would just drop them into my life without my investment, but truth is always harder at first, much more fruitful later.  When I think about what I want my kids to find in the garage at the end of my life, the answer is:  a car!  That would be fabulous.  A few woodpiles aren't the end of world, especially because that means I was still dreaming when I went home.  But mostly a car.

Crying Like a Baby in Moquegua

I cried about 10 times each day of our clinic health outreach with HealthCare Ministries of the U.S. Assemblies of God and sponsoring missionaries Chris and Debbie Bowser.  We were in Moquegua, Peru, where our friends and colleagues are planting a church, and wanted to do something to bless the people of Moquegua.  Moquegua, like so many small towns in the countryside of Peru, has limited healthcare.  Anything that requires a specialist means a 4-hour drive to Arequipa.  I primarily worked the optical room, which was surprisingly dramatic. These are the reasons why:

1.       Smiling Aymara. The mountain people of the Andes are stoic, to say the least.  It is often very hard to get them to smile at all when there is a camera around.  They have very hard lives, many just barely meeting the most basic of their needs.  Many of the older Aymara people would come with an intense desire to see.  There were maybe 10 older saints who came with a burning desire to read the Word of God.  As they would try on the reader glasses, the smallest hint of a smile would begin to spread across their face as they read in Spanish John 3:16… “For God so loved the world (cue the start of a grin) that he gave his one and only Son (cue the tears—more ours than theirs, but sometimes together).  Outstanding.

2.       The blind see. One boy came in who was 19 years old.  Right about Hannah’s age.  He also had another thing in common with Hannah.  He was practically blind without glasses.  Once we began the exam, it was obvious that he needed a super-strong lens. He also told us he had never owned a pair of glasses (we were told over and over again by the people of Moquegua that most of them cannot afford to buy a pair).   My daughter has had a pair of glasses perched on her nose or lenses in her eyes for 15 of her 18 years.  All those years, this boy who needed it just as bad as she did went without, and somehow managed to learn to read and write.  I asked him if it was the first time he had ever seen that clearly.  He said “Yes.” No emotion.  I had a complete breakdown and had to fight to pull myself together.  Dear Jesus, what must it be like?

3.       Just-in-time medical counsel.  One lady came in with her 4 year-old son.  He was a little charmer, but with a lazy eye.  As our time together unfolded, she admitted that he had been to see an ophthalmologist, and that he had counseled her to have an operation done right away.  She was worried that her son could lose her sight in the operation (before you judge, you should know that we saw a number of patients whose operations for cataracts and the like had been botched and left people blind), and wanted to wait until he was a teen.  We were able to be strong in advising her that if she waited, it would be too late and he would become permanently blind, like several other patients we had seen that week.  I told her that it was a God thing that she came to us, because it was clear that she was headed in the wrong direction.  We don’t know what she will do, but she at least knows. 

4.       The chance to be the hands that bring desperately needed relief.  One man offered as we were fitting him for glasses, “You know, I come from WAYYYYY far up in the farmland!” We asked him how he found out we were there.  He said that his family, who lives in Moquegua, called him when they heard about our clinic on the radio, and he rode 8 hours to get to us.  He had a family member standing in line (which by the second day started forming at 3 in the morning) to save a place for him.  Can you imagine wanting a pair of glasses so bad that you would do that?

5.       The Spirit of God was amazingly present, and He used us over and over again to share the gospel, call the backslidden back home, and sometimes just to speak a simple but powerful word of encouragement.  I felt the power of the Holy Spirit many times throughout our week in Moquegua.  I felt like a pump that had been seriously primed.  The awesome thing about ministering hours on end is that your soul also prospers in the middle of it!  Many moments there was a prophetic spirit that took over as we ministered.  One lady came back the next day to tell our counselor who led her to the Lord that she felt a strange heat in her body, and that she had come back to life again!  God is SO good.

6.       We had unknowingly walked into one of the most desperate health concerns of the people of Moquegua.  This mountain town is dry, sometimes windy, always dusty, and relentlessly bright with sunlight. It is ideal conditions for the development of cataracts and something called a pterygium, which is a fleshy growth over the surface of the eye that begins as the body’s self-defense against the sun and wind, but can end in blindness.  We didn’t count, but Jenny (our nurse optical team leader) and I are fairly certain that at least half of the people we saw over thirty—probably more—had one or both of these conditions.  By God’s amazing grace, we had a ton of eye drops to ease the dryness and sunglasses.  What a wonderful thing to be the means of relief for someone in pain and discomfort (almost all our patients complained of a lot of burning and pain).

I came home exhausted, but full--cried out, but still so moved.  There were tears of relief that we found anything at all that helped (only a few went away with no improved sight), tears of compassion when we listened to their sad stories,  tears of joy when a soul found it’s way home to the Father.  It was a great, sobby, sappy week.  So glad I went!

'

Jenny our optical team leader in action.

I had to have a pic with this lady.  She was a hoot along the lines of the woman with the unjust judge and begged us for help when we told her we didn't think we had the right lenses for her grandson. Praise God, we found something that worked!

The mayor of Chen Chen (burb of Moquegua) officially thanking us for coming at a Mother's Day event just outside of his office which we transformed into a clinic for five days.  He also joined us for our end-of-clinic banquet.

Deeper.

This from Lena:

Our first term in Peru was a whirlwind of adjustments.  New language, new culture, new everything.  We were blessed to have formed many new friendships that showed promise of taking root, even in the midst of the chaos that characterized those first two years.  We left for the States for itineration exhausted, yet certain that we were on the right path.

Now we are half-way into our second term, and as I contemplate the last two years, one word that jumps to the forefront of my mind is “deeper.”  Peru feels closer in every way…closer to that core that I consider my own heart, much more vulnerable.  Friendships have gone to a level where it hurts when there is dissonance, where real ministry, real honesty is taking place.  We are taking ministry risks that we didn’t the first round.   We struggle with how much of the beliefs we hold deeply are truly Biblical, and which ones are just truly American. Much of the free time that we spent in the past in the missionary community has been limited by the increased investment in Peruvians (this is really good, although we miss our other friends!).   We take the bus to scary parts of town.  I drive 50 minutes on Wednesday nights to be with the young women of our church (where taxis won’t go if you tell them honestly where it is), and I have dings all over our Speed-the-Light van to prove it.  There are even babies being named for us! 

Sometimes I fear being rejected by the Peruvian church over non-core issues of how we express our Christianity.  Sometimes I fear that I will be judged for my own sinful ways, which are all-the-more obvious through the eyes of another culture.  We Americans are boisterous and opinionated.  We laugh, we cry—so much of what we feel and think is right out there all the time, and I am a perfect specimen!  Peruvians are much more reserved, only trusting their heart with a few.  I wonder how odd I must seem, how often they have to extend grace to me, and I think that is what hurts the most….That I have come to bring grace, and instead, I find myself coming up short, and very much in need of grace from my dear Peruvian friends.

One day in particular, I was struggling with this issue.  My self-protective instincts cried out for shelter.  My flesh just wanted to run.  There are ways to still be a missionary and hide.  You can stay active in ministry activities, and no one has to know your deep heart.  You can keep it superficial if you work at it.  Don’t mix your lives with theirs.  Don’t open your home and all you do or don’t have to others.  Keep corners of your life insulated. 

But I can’t.

Jesus went all the way.  If the Father had given him a pep talk before He came to earth, I can imagine it might have gone like this:

“Ok, Son, this is going to be hard.  You are going to make yourself completely vulnerable.  You will always walk the earth knowing that they have no idea who you are, and when you teach, they are not going to get it.  Some people will start to receive you, like they were waking up from a long sleep, but that will be as good as it gets.  The rest will be ignorant and frightened of you—they will go straight to self-protection and attack you verbally and physically.  In the end, even the ones closest to you will abandon you.  But hold on, because what you do on this earth will rescue them in the end.”

I don’t at all claim to have walked in this sort of rejection, but my frail human soul fears it.  I confess that I am the kind of person who struggles not to analyze the small talk after the party.   (“What did he mean by saying I looked healthier?  Was he saying I looked FAT?”)  I hate feeling misunderstood, and I hate even more being understood perfectly and being wrong or sinful.

Deeper is harder.  Deeper is an emotional rollercoaster.  Deeper is unknown.  It is also an adventure.  When I risk going deeper, I feel like I am doing what I was sent to do.  When I don’t, I am miserable. 

So deeper it is.  

My devotional life

This from Bill:

Recently, a friend asked about how much time I spend in prayer and how I do my daily devotions. Here's what I wrote:

The answer on how much time I spend praying is: Not enough! My daily devotional regimen is 1) listen to the Bible in Spanish while working out on the elliptical at 6:30 Am. Usually for 20-25 minutes. I usually listen to one or two chapters. 2) Listen to or read 1 chapter of the Bible in English with my kids at breakfast, while discussing it's historical or literary context, proper interpretation and how to apply it to our lives. That's about 15 minutes 5-6 days a week. We leave for school at 8:00 AM. 3) After I drop the kids off, I read the Bible in Spanish out loud (so as to practice my pronunciation while edifying my Spirit). I usually read 1-2 chapters. In English I read much more, but I can’t pull that off in Spanish, yet. I believe it is important to read whole books of the Bible and not skip around from one chapter to another in a disjointed manner. God wrote Ephesians with a specific intent--whch is interpreted correctly in it's context. Therefore, I read the books from beginning to end. I do jump from New Testament to Old and back, but always reading complete books. I outline the chapters and write notes about the book's general argument and how that chapter ties into the book’s theme and also, how it applies to my life. I also journal and pray in English/Spanish and/or tongues. The combination of reading, journaling and praying usually takes about 1.5 hours--except on Mondays, when it's about 3 hours. How do I do that and work a regular office job? First, my hours are flexible. Second, I put in plenty of time in the office. I'm usually in the office between 9 and 10 AM and I work until about 7:00 PM. After dinner, I may put in 1-2 hours more. I try not to work on Saturdays, apart from leading the Young Adults group on Saturday nights. Sometimes that means I have to do sermon prep on Saturday afternoon.

I can't tell you how much time is spent in prayer, versus Bible study or journaling; since I don't separate them much in my brain. When I'm reading the Bible out loud, I think of it as one form of prayer and praise. When I'm journaling, I'm often writing out a prayer. My goal for the whole process is to be honest with God. I see that as an important step towards hearing God's voice. That is to say, often we already know what God wants, but we have to be honest about our own motivations and desires before we can even see clearly. So, on a normal day, I spend a minimum of 2 hours in Bible study and prayer. In addition to that, a few days a week I go out for walks at night, during which I pray in tongues and English. This is in addition to the times when I'm praying while in transit or doing repetitive tasks. For example, when I'm riding the bus, I'm praying in tongues very quietly. (Here, a white guy on the bus looks pretty silly, since white guys drive luxury cars. So, a white guy mumbling to himself is just one more notch on the odd scale!)

Another strategy/tactic for one's devotional life is memorizing scripture. Lena does this every morning while going on a long walk. That way she gets the Word in her and she gets her heart beating. I do this sometimes on the elliptical. Be cautioned, this takes commitment. It bares incredible fruit, but at the cost of being very dry. Once you get the Word in your memory, you are much stronger in your faith and convictions. It is the primary key to hearing God's voice.

All of the above is somewhat separate from the practice of worship in my life. Worship (singing to and about the Lord) is a form of prayer--especially in that my goal is to open myself up to God's presence and enjoy the experience of His intimate presence. I do this in the car, sometimes with the help of a CD, but often just acapella. I also do it with the guitar. It used to be a daily practice, but now that I'm out of XA ministry and spend more time in an office (working with Latin America ChildCare), I don't do it as regularly. On Saturdays, we do family worship. Here I train the little ones to give their all in worship, and I train the big ones how to lead worship. We talk about the theology of the words and music, how to transition successfully, what kind of response we're looking for from the congregation, how to help people experience God's presence, how to do a good job without becoming puffed up, how to lead a Pentecostal/charismatic worship or a non-tongues and prophecy evangelical service. Of course, we have a general objective of experiencing God's presence and learning to be proficient on whatever instrument we happen to be playing that day (e.g., drums, guitar, violin, piano, percussion or bass). This is about 1 hour long for the little ones (who just want to watch TV) and goes longer for Hannah, Colton, Lena and Myself.

The final aspect of our daily devotions is sharing what we're reading, praying about, journaling about and what we think God is saying. Lena and I talk about this every day. We also share it with the kids, when it's appropriate. The community factor imperative in discerning the Spirit. God speaks to us when we bring things out into the light.

In terms of church activities, we all attend at least one Sunday service. The kids have chapel every week, as well as their respective Bible studies. Lena is in two women's groups. She and Hannah also help me in leading the Young Adults/College age group on Saturdays. I also preach/teach/lead worship in other churches on a regular basis.

I usually advise students to shoot for a 30 minute quiet time as a bare minimum. That should include some degree of Bible reading (two to three chapters a day), journaling and prayer. I don't do all three every day, but I do try to do all three every week. That is, some days are mostly reading and some are mostly prayer or journaling. One important goal for all of it is listening. Being able to adjust what you do enables you to respond to your current needs and gives you another option when the process gets boring. The goal must be to hear God's voice, know God's will and/or have God's perspective. That is very rewarding and takes much of the drudgery out of the discipline.