On Assignment Part 3

Hi Dad,
I spent about 2 hours talking to Ink tonight. Things have evolved so much since I wrote the last post about this.  I am amazed by the transformation in her.  Truly amazed.  I told her tonight that I was posting this story and that I told people she had been mean to me and that I was worried about it because I didn't want to hurt her.  She was so great.  "But I WAS mean to you Becky," she said.  And I told her, "I know, but the Lord has also given me eyes to see how much oppression you were under.  And since that time you have been so amazing."  I told her that I didn't want to hurt her by pointing out her failures. I told her how much I admire her because every thing the Lord has asked of her to make situations right she has been obedient in.  She's been doing all the hard and humbling things.  She's poured herself into becoming a Godly woman full of the Spirit and is making hard and good choices over and over.  I told her she was making the choices that lead to people seeing a new depth of character, allowing her to build trust, and growing her in influence--which is true authority.  I've never seen such a 180 degree turn in a person.  It's truly a blessing to see.
So I'll share with you quickly that the e-mail I received from Ink that morning was a request to pray, and a request that I would let her know if the Lord gave me a word for her.  She and her family were under an enormous assault, circumstantially and spiritually, and she needed help.
I went to prayer for two hours.  The Lord did not give me one word, but four pages of notes.  Along with some specific directions.  I called Rev. Mary because I've never really been in the position where someone has ASKED me for this type of thing.  Often the Lord gives me words or insight or shows up when I am with others, but no one had ever had an expectation of me like this before.  And many of the things the Lord told me were quite personal.  So I didn't know if I should just pray about them or if I was to tell her. 
Rev. Mary said to me, "Becky, what did she ask you for?"  I said, "She asked me for a word from the Lord."  She replied, "Well then she asked for the prophet." 
Something in my universe sort of groaned at that point.  I knew she was right.  And I knew that was what the Lord had given her in me.  But I wasn't sure if I was ready to call it that.  I know, Dad, you don't like word.  It comes with so much baggage. 
But in its simplest form, the prophet is simply someone who speaks to people on behalf of God. 
Actually, Ink had asked me for the priest (someone who speaks to God on behalf of people) AND the prophet.  And I was given the task of ministering to her in both capacities. 
We talked  the next day and she told me that the Lord had told her to call me on Sunday night and she hadn't, and that later, she woke up in the middle of the night and in her words, "You were in my room." 
Of course, I wasn't, but God was making His point.  So she e-mailed me on Monday morning.  I met with her and her mother on Wednesday.  The Lord had directed me that I was to pray for her Spiritual Healing.  We talked for about two hours, and I knew when I was supposed to pray over her.  It happened very naturally and I knelt at her feet and held her hand.  As I prayed I could see the wounds in her spirit.  As I saw them, they opened up and she began crying these wrenching sobs, and then as I continued to pray I saw healing oil being poured into each wound.  And as I saw this her sobs subsided and she became calm.  We prayed for various things over quite some time, and then when we were done she looked at me with eyes wide and exclamed, "I want to be able to do that for people!"  I wasn't exactly sure what she was referring to, but she said, "At first when you began to pray for me I thought you were squeezing my hand really tight, but then I realized it was like a burning tingling sensation.  It traveled all the way up my arm and into my head.  Then I realized it was the Holy Spirit.  It was so amazing and healing and....I want to be able to do that for people!!!"
I had not felt the tingling or anything other than a firm grasp of her hand, but I knew that the Lord had answered the prayer I had prayed before I went in.  "Lord--Ink needs to know that these words are not from me, but from You.  So Your Spirit needs to bear witness to her.  Your Spirit must go with me so that my words do not come with human wisdom but with divine power.  And I told Ink that I hadn't done that for her that it was a work of the Holy Spirit through me, but that it WAS a blessing to be used by God to do such a beautiful work of healing in her life. 
Then I told her to be careful what she asked for.  She might think twice if she knew my path to this place.
A few days ago we had another conversation and she gave me a very comforting compliment. "You know," she said, "what you did the other day--it was different from a lot of other people who sort of have "prophetic" gifts.  It was so gentle and soothing.  A lot of people who seem have these gifts are well, arrogant, and abrasive." 
I nodded. "I know what you mean."  I told her.  "When I first started to understand what God was doing with me I fought it tooth and nail.  First of all, I didn't even believe in it.  Second, I had this picture in my head of what a person with these gifts was like and I was determined I would NEVER become that kind of a person.  It wasn't who I was."  It wasn't until two years ago, when I was out in Seattle with Ted that Ted said to me, "Maybe who you are becoming doesn't look like anybody you've ever seen."  Why don't you just take one day at a time and figure out with God what it should look like." 
It seems a simple thing to say, but it gave me the freedom to have this gift and still be me.  To see it as something that would manifest itself through who God had already made me to be.  Something that fit me.  That was a true expression of God in me.  Much like a work of art. 
So perhaps I've finally found my paintbrush. 
So there it is, Dad. 
This is who I am becoming.
And no it isn't a once in a life time occurance.  A woman who has blessed my life greatly came back into my path with difficult in her own journey.  I went to prayer for her and we met this week.  I was able to bless her with some words from the Lord as well.  They were confirmation and clarity to what the Lord had already been showing her.  And it was so wonderful to bless her in that way.  And we talked about what a good God He is to bless our lives with others in the body who can minister to us in this way. 
And here's the thing.  I have peace.  I have such gratitude toward God that He has brought me to this place.  And I am so thankful that He has taken me to His school to shape me into the minister He wants me to become.  I hope that I can continue to minister in a way that is deeply pleasing to my God, and of great help to those He calls me to.  And I hope to always speak to them in the voice of the Shepherd.
You know what?  I wouldn't trade it for an MDIV.
B

On Assignment, Part 2

I'm tired, but if I don't keep up with this story, I'm never gonna finish because stuff keeps happening and things are getting better and better. 
So when I got back from Brazil I stopped in to pick up my check and let them know I wasn't anxious for hours and would love to hold off until the summer.  I really wasn't sure if I wanted to go back, and really didn't think I could handle being around Ink.  Before I went to Brazil, she was just so demeaning and I was beginning to feel the tension rise in me whenever I knew I needed to go into work. The money wasn't worth the stress.  But again, I felt a stay on my spirit not to quit.  Then sometime in March, Ink called me and let me know they had restructured things.  Her sister-in-law would be running the weddings and Ink would only be in the restaurant.  She wanted to know if I would be the assistant manager for the weddings--that way I wouldn't be working directly with Ink.  I would only be working the weddings and they would pay me a comparable rate to what I would have made working in the restaurant.  AND I would get to work with her sister-in-law who I knew was really struggling and could use the encouragement.  I said yes, knowing this felt like God's way of keeping me there, and protecting me. 
I began working in May and things started off poorly.  Ink seemed to always be changing things and frustrating her sister in law and I always got stuck in the middle.  One morning I was very discouraged and made my way over to Rev. Mary's for our weekly time.  I was so down we just ended up talking and then she prayed over me.  It was amazing the insight the Lord gave her about the situation.  It was like she was pulling the arrows right out of my back.  She said I got caught in the crossfire.  She had a few words from the Lord for me about the situation.  One I found of great comfort, she said that the Lord put a limit on my time there, and if things did not change He was going to pull me out.  She also said that the Lord said that at times my tongue could be "biting" and that He was just going to remove that completely from me.  I hadn't even told her about my struggle of being caught in the middle of the gossip--but from that time on I found it was never an issue.  Then she also said the Lord showed her a picture of me walking into the reception hall and that she could see the demons screaming because of the glory of God upon me as I was walking in.  I never walked through that door without thinking about that and wishing I could see it myself.  It was of great encouragement to me. 
There were several more situations over the weeks that were trying, but each time the Lord showed me He was using me, and reminded me that He would yank me out if my assignment was over. 
Then, about three weeks ago I was at work and picked up my pay check before heading up to the wedding.  I checked it because sometimes they forgot to sign my check, and noticed that it was significantly lower than it should have been.  I looked at my rate, and realized that they had docked my pay by 1/3 for a full two weeks worth of work.  I was not happy, and it's a good thing I had to walk all the way across the parking lot to find Ink.  I had time to remind myself of a number of important things. 
So by the time I found Ink I was quite civil and said, "I think there's been a mistake, at least I hope there's been a mistake.  I've been paid the wrong rate." 
She looked at me and said, "Look, I'm not the one who writes the paycheck, but if that is what the owner has decided to pay you, there is nothing I can do."  "I know I agreed to pay you more, but I have no power to make that right with you." 
I looked at her and quietly and with a bit of disbelief I said, "It's just so wrong." 
"This is what I deal with all the time," she said. "I have no power to honor the agreements I've made with people."  "And these guys love a fight, so I don't know if you want to get into a fight with evil."
As she said it, this little thought went through my head that was something like a question, "Well isn't that exactly what we are supposed to be doing?"
I took a deep breath and said, "Look, I don't know what I'm going to do, but I will pray about it before I do anything drastic.  What I would like for you to do is ask them to adjust my pay for what I have already worked.  IF they want to adjust my salary from here on out, then I have a choice to make if I want to stay at the adjusted rate."
So at this point, every blood cell in my entire body wanted to quit.  And I went home that night and just felt awful.  The money really wasn't a big deal.  It was the idea that someone would be that unfair--to decide without telling an employee that they were going to pay them less than had been agreed upon and then basically say, if you don't like it you can leave.  It's just so wrong.  Who treats people like that?  I knew Ink was between a rock and a hard place, and I knew I had to wait and see what happened. 
Well, two days later I got an e-mail.  They would adjust my paycheck for the hours I worked, but from that point forward, my position was no longer available.  However, if I wanted to be a server at the adjusted rate, I was welcome to stay and serve at the weddings.  So now I  find Igot a pay cut, and I got demoted. 
I wanted to quit even more.  But every spiritual piece of me knew God didn't want me to.  It was so clear that I knew for me to do that would be a direct act of disobedience. 
So two weeks ago, I pulled my white server shirt out of the closet and showed up at work to serve.  Of course everyone working there knew I got demoted, they just didn't know why.  The Lord gave me a lot of grace though, and I just kept thinking, the only thing that is hurting right now is my pride, and I know that being humiliated right now is an act of worship.  This is an act of worship.  Eventually I was able to enjoy myself and the routines of the night.  Another interesting thing that happened that night is that before I went to work, the Lord reminded me that I had several dishes that I had borrowed from the kitchen to bring home food in.  He said very clearly, "I want you to take those back tonight."  I found two of the three and made sure I returned them, because He seemed very serious about it.  It wasn't a big deal that I had taken them home, but I kept them so long that I had begun to worry that they would use it as an excuse to yell at me so I had avoided returning them.  It was as if He was saying it was important there wasn't anything on my part that needed to be made right. 
As I left work that night, I remember being glad it was over, and being glad that I had been obedient.  I even thought, I like being a server better than being in charge of anything.  It's a lot less pressure.  I thought that would pretty much be the end of the story, but it was actually a new beginning. 
Monday morning, I got an e-mail...

On Assignment

Good Morning, Dad.

I know you've been up for quite some time this morning. I'm guessing you have a few miles under your belt, you've had a couple cups of coffee and have been to the padaria for some fresh bread. (I'm so jealous.) I've awake since about six but didn't want to admit it. But I finally made some coffee and have been thinking about what to say and what not to say about this past week to you.
It's funny, I know it's going to be hard to tell you about this week because I know that it is going to rub up against so much of your theology. And yet your the person I most want to share this all with right now. I want to tell you because I want to share it with you but I don't because I don't want to feel rejected. But the truth is, I know it's important for me to share it BECAUSE I need to own my journey even if you don't approve or agree. It's part of me not allowing your approval to become idolatrous to me. It's part of me not being afraid to acknowledge God's calling on my life. Funny how sometimes it's the people we love the most that are the hardest to share with.
Now see...I've judged your reaction and set you up so that your all defensive before I even begin and that's not fair. I'll try to give you the benefit of the doubt that you will be open minded. (Just letting you inside my head, dear Daddy.)
Where to begin...well Julie Andrews says the very beginning is a very good place to start. Last year when we were planning to come to Brazil--I needed a way to earn some money. I had been praying about it, and one day picked up the Merchandiser and saw an add for a serving position. I remembered the restaurant...Matt and I had been there twice, once for our anniversary and once for Valentine's Day. It was a beautiful restaurant on a beautiful piece of property. It was part time and I just decided to call. I had served the summer before college in a restaurant, and so wasn't completely inexperienced, but it had been a long time. I got a call back that same day and ended up going in for an interview that same afternoon. The woman who was hiring was a Christian and we talked very openly about our faith. I let her know how little experience I had and she said that she wasn't unwilling to train someone if they were the right person for the job. She said she and her husband were going to pray over the decision and get back to me within a week.
It was interesting how things sort of developed. Now I know that the Lord spoke to them and they knew that God had placed me there and they were to hire me. (I didn't know that at the time.) I just knew that God was providing a job for me when I didn't have to hire a sitter and I wasn't away from the kids for large chunks of my week. And I loved the beauty of the grounds. The restaurant was beautiful.
It was sometime after that I learned more about the situation I had walked into. The Inn was owned by two men. The Christian couple that hired me were the Inn Keepers, and were living at the Inn and managing the business. (I'll call her Ink here forward.) They have sort of a work to own agreement with the owners.
The more I worked there, the more I began to see evidence that all was not well with the situation. And as I learned more I realized there was a reason the Lord sent me there, but I was not exactly sure what it was. I began to see that a lot of what was happening behind the scenes was not above board, and I felt the pressure the couple was under to follow unethical practices. As I prayed for them the Lord told me very clearly that He wanted them to have this land, but that they needed to do things His way. I also saw that there was an enormous amount of oppression coming at them and the importance of spiritual warfare in the situation. I knew it was a "word" but I honestly wasn't sure what to do with it.
One afternoon, I was working a weekend wedding, which I did when the restaurant closed. (I usually got assigned to the demanding bridezillas because they discovered that my presence seemed to be soothing.) In a lull, Ink took me out back and out of the blue she looked at me straight in the eye and accused me, "You know something, don't you?" I felt a bit uncomfortable, because since I had been working there we didn't seem to be on the best of terms and there's nothing like telling your boss the sort of message I had, but I sensed a "go" from the Lord and began to tell her something pretty close to this. "Well, I'm telling you this because you are asking me, but I know the Lord wants you to have this land. But it seems that you are trying to get it unethically and justifying the means by the end. The Lord is saying to me that you need to do it His way in order to receive His blessing." Then I told her what I saw. "Every time you go into the presence of the owners, it's almost like they paint you in black tar (spiritually). It's like they are rubbing off on you, covering you in oppression, and it is incredibly important that you cover and cleanse yourself in the blood of Christ when you interact with them."
Ink softened visibly and acknowledged everything I said was true and very helpful. I assured her I would continue to pray and I was so encouraged, because I thought for sure now things between us would be much better. Instead, everything got worse. Ink and her husband were showing signs of cracking under all the pressure. It began to be evident there were some real struggles in Ink's life. To put it in her words to me this week, she was very angry and was being really mean. I did not escape her wrath and many times I would come home in tears to Matt. It was as if I could do nothing right no matter how hard I tried. If I was great with my customers and they loved me and complimented me and gave me a great tip I got in trouble for spending too much time with them and letting them "rot by the windowsill". If I tried to be friendly with the chef in the kitchen then we obviously didn't have enough to do so we were given extra chores. And eventually we were sent an e-mail that there was to be no talking in the kitchen. It was on the verge of ridiculous and I was sorely tried. To make matters worse, Ink's sister in law is a baby Christian and works at the Inn. She was in tears most days because she was cracking under the way Ink was treating her and trying to understand how this was Christan behavior. "If that's how a Christian is supposed to be than I don't want to be like that," she would say to me. I felt torn. I tried to help her see the truth about God and herself, but it was hard not to do that without calling out Ink's behavior as wrong. I constantly felt like I was on a tightrope between being a light and enabling gossip. It was such a struggle. I was so relieved when I went to Brazil in December. I asked them if they would agree to not working until the busy season began in May/June of the following year, and was secretly hoping the Lord would release me from the job completely.
(OK, Dad, we are off to church. I did tell you the Lord gave me a Church, right? He told me where to go. I love it when He makes it clear like that. I had gone to pray with Rev. Mary for a mission's team that is going to Africa from the church and when I walked in the Sanctuary the Lord told me that was where I was to go to church. It's where Mary and Steve go. You'll like it. It's BIC (think Messiah) and one of the teaching Pastor's--Josh--graduated from Biblical Seminary--I really enjoy his teaching--finally feels like home. The girls like the Children's program, which is important too.)

The Walking Bridge

On Sunday night I was preaching on 1 Timothy chapter 4 verses 12-16 about Paul’s exhortation to this young man going into the ministry. Well, the first of 5 things he mentions is about “words and that includes doctrine” and how we use them. Right off the top of my head (and this of course can get preachers in trouble) in pops this “story” of me crossing that bridge in Porto Alegre on my way to the train station.
“Walking bridges” are quite common here in the big cities, built to cross over busy highways. Some are even rather high off the ground. I was heading back to Sao Leopoldo after doing business in the big city. It is normally a 45 minute commute this way since the train stops about 8 times to drop off passengers on the way. I remember waking up the rather long ramp to get to steps that would take me up to the bridge. There were lots of people heading in the same direction. I had a black briefcase in my left hand and I was in no hurry. It would probably take a whole 3 minutes to cross this bridge. People were walking in both directions. I briefly looked down to the busy highway below and was thankful for at least a small guardrail on either side.
All of a sudden there was a young man by my side talking to me. He said, "Do you see that man up there in the red shirt? He is watching your every step and he is helping me rob you. Just don’t get any ideas of running away from me. I want your money. If you don’t give it to me I will push you over the guard rail and you will die."
I do believe that my pace slowed, however I did not immediately go for my wallet. I was angry, but “thank God” not to the point of sinning or doing something crazy. I did what I usually do in difficult situations like these. I start talking. I asked a question. “What are you needing money for?"
He said, "Never mind, just give me your wallet."
I said, "I can’t just give anybody money without knowing what they are needing it for so give me a good reason."
He told me that he needed money for him and his buddy to buy train tickets. Well, by then we were already past the highest point of the bridge and into a gradual decent. At that point I told him I would give him some money to help him and his buddy out. I felt less threatened at that moment since there were people all around and so I asked him another question.
I said, "Do you and your buddy do this on a regular basis? This is dangerous stuff. I am a pastor and I spend all my time helping young boys like you find their way though life without this kind of behavior."  I actually think that he believed me. He probably hadn’t met anyone quit like me before and I think he knew he was going to get my money. He just didn’t know how much.
Once across the bridge his buddy stopped, we stopped and I reached for my wallet. There were people all around. I said, with a smile on my face, "Let me invite you two to our service at First Baptist Church in Sao Leopoldo." I told them where the church was located. I really was sincere and they knew it. I gave them passage money and a bit extra but not by much. I think they left shaking their heads but still happy they got something.
I have often wondered what life would be like for all of us if we would on a regular basis, “live the gospel daily” by how we speak, the tone of our voice, our facial expressions, by our behavior, faith, love and purity and use words only when necessary. Joseph in the book of Genesis said very little but his example was powerful.
I plan to go on a rabbit trail from the book of 1 Timothy this Wednesday evening just to share from the Bible about a person who spoke little but carried a powerful testimony that to this day affects you and me. The power of example vs. the example of power is something Bill Clinton gave a speech on recently. It was regarded as one of his best. Not so sure too many who know the life of Joseph would be all that impressed. Love you! Dad.

Stories

Photo by Bgrace

This morning Emily hopped up on my bed while the rest of the children were still sleeping and said excitedly, "Mom! Can we have Bible time?"  "I already prayed to God a couple of times today.  I've been sitting out on the deck waiting for you. Will you come out and have Bible time with me?"  She asked me yesterday if I would read her the story of David and Goliath this morning.  It was a little earlier than I was expecting, but I somewhat reluctantly dragged myself out of bed and put soy milk and maple syrup in my coffee (it's not as bad as it sounds), grabbed a Bible and settled in next to Em on the deck. 

She was sitting there with her eyes closed and her hands held together in prayer, fingers pointed to the sky.  I looked at her with a raised eyebrow and she gave up trying to keep a straight face. "I was praying!!" she laughed.  

We read the story of David and Goliath together.  I added a bit of commentary and Em interrupted whenever a question popped into her mind of any sort.  She came up with all sorts of interesting ideas about why everything was happening and what was going to happen next.  I kept saying, "Em, let me read the rest of the story!!"  She was especially intrigued with the whole chopping off of Goliath's head saga.  We read Psalm 18 afterwards and I explained that David wasn't only a great warrior, he was a musician too.  I explained that Psalm 18 was a song David wrote after one of his victories in battle.   

After we were done I hauled the chairs up from the basement for stripping and she helped me paint it on.  I made her wear safety goggles and gloves and she did great.  We worked quietly together for a while and it gave me time to reflect.

I really enjoyed reading that story.  It's been a while since I've read I Samuel.  I remember how much that story shaped me as a child.  David was but a boy, but he was the only one who saw the situation for what it really was.  It wasn't Goliath and the Philistines against Israel.  It was Goliath and the Philistines against the Army of the Lord.  David knew he could defeat Goliath in the Lord's Name.  Everyone else thought he was crazy, and his brother challenged his motives/his heart.  But for whatever reason Saul gave him his blessing (and tried to give him his armour, but it just wasn't a good fit.)

As I thought about how much that story helped me to have courage to do what the Lord was calling me to do when I was growing up, I realized how to say what I wanted to say about your stories, Dad. 

They shaped me.  A lot.  Growing up I would always think about how much more effective and useful I would be for God's purposes if my life were pure.  (Sure, there were times when legalism creeped into that, but for the most part, I think it was a helpful tool.)  I would think about how God helped you save yourself and the company of men you were point man for--how he used the skills he had given you growing up as a boy and helped you to see the enemy in time to get to safety.  I think the story about how you wouldn't have killed an enemy soldier asking for asylum, even if you had been ordered to, no matter what the consequences because it went against who you were--that story probably shaped me more than any other than I remember.  I wanted to be that kind of person.  I wanted that part of your story to become mine. 

But I also wanted you to write out your stories because I wanted to show something important.  Those were your experiences and they shaped you profoundly.  They taught you something about God.  They taught you about warfare.  They taught you about yourself.  So when you believed that God was calling you to a foreign field you trusted that He would take care of you and your family. A step that for some might have seemed reckless.  You learned to trust Him and stay calm and look for guidance in very difficult situations.  When you were accosted on the bridge and threatened with your life, you didn't panic, and you used the situation to bring light into a very dark place.  When you were kidnapped  with a gun to you and forced to put your head between your knees, you decided somehow it was an appropriate time to talk to your captor about his spiritual journey.  Some might think that a bit presumptuous or on the verge of ridiculous, but your experiences have trained you otherwise.  Your experiences tell of your witness of how God has protected you and led you and used you in situations that would have paralyzed others or caused them to question their calling. 

Today I was thinking about the morning we climbed Mount Katahdin.  The night before I was actually started to sense fear creeping in.  The whole ledge portion you had talked about was starting to press in a bit.  The portion that was only a foot length wide--you couldn't cross your feet and you had to lean into the rock and it was about a mile straight down.  I remembered a Psalm where it talked about the Lord's protection, and something about rocks.  I found it and felt like the Lord wanted me to read it out loud to us.  I read Psalm 91.  I remember your words after I read it.  You said, "Becky, it's really interesting that you chose that Psalm 91.  That was my Vietnam Psalm."  Now Dad, that's the closest I've ever heard you come to saying that there was a divine connection in something.  My experiences have shaped me in a way that I believe there was something more going on than a coincidence in that.  Looking back, I think that the Lord was saying that once again, like He protected you before, He would protect us on our climb. 

The funny thing is, the ledge didn't really bother me.  I was half-way across it before I realized, to my surprise, that it was the place you had talked about.  The CHIMNEY was the deal breaker for me.  I had a to jump blind (backwards) onto two inch wide pointed rock with one foot.  I knew you were going to help me get there, but my legs were shorter than yours and I couldn't get the other one loose to even make the jump.  Those extra couple inches made a huge difference.  The closest ledge down was as good as a mile.  (I mean, when you're comparing fall lengths I think anything past a 1/4 mile is pretty much a kiss good-bye anyway.)  I really didn't think I was going to make it.  It was the first time on the whole trip I felt the panic stronger than the adrenaline.  That's when I remembered Psalm 91.  I needed God to keep more than my foot from striking a stone.  (Thankfully I had studied poetic language and I knew that often times the poet uses a portion or a part as symbolic of a whole.)  I knew the Lord had brought that Psalm to my attention.  I knew He had protected Your life in Vietnam and taught you through that passage, and I knew that He would be faithful to His Words to me that day. He would be faithful to His Psalm. 

Then you showed me how to put my elbow into the cleft in the rock and slide it all the way in so I could support almost the entire weight of my body with my arm while I loosened my leg above enough to lower my other foot below to make the jump to the rock.  I think it was the only time during the entire climb I didn't mind your hand on my butt.  (That's another story...)  Though I was pretty sure if I didn't make it we both were in for a long fall.  But then--it was a Psalm He had given to us both--so I had to trust Him for both of us. 

When I decided to write this post today, I remembered that I have your Bible because you forgot it last time you were here.  (Also not something I chalk up to coincidence.)  I looked up Psalm 91.  You wrote over top of it..."My Vietnam Psalm" and to the side "My Kidnap Psalm".  And then over verses 11-12 you wrote this, "Every time I take off on a plane I take confidence in this."  Over verse 15 you wrote, '"Airports, assaults, difficult situations."   

Dad your experiences have taught you that the Lord speaks to you through Scripture, and that you can trust His Words.  You have taught me that too.

My experiences have taught me that the Lord speaks to me through Scripture (Logos) and also through His spoken Word, (Rhema) and that I can trust His Words. 

I hope that He will continue to teach us through our stories, and I hope that we'll have many more stories of our adventures together.

Now, will you please write out the stories of your kidnapping and of the bridge for me?

Love you,

B 

Happy Father's Day

Photo by Daren Mark Richner

I was thinking about you this morning, Dad.  I'm looking forward to having you and Mom around in the fall--it's always when I miss you most.  The Richner thanksgiving was always fun...and Grandma's Turkey Rice soup the day after was always the best ever.  I tried for years to make it like she did but couldn't figure out what she put in it to give it that flavor.  I finally figured out she put some of the turkey gravy in it.
Of course your being here means we'll celebrate Emily's and my Birthday together.  (And maybe Matt and I will have babysitters for an Anniversary weekend away!)  I'm also thinking you will need to get your return tickets for after Grace's Nutcracker performance.  Oh--and did I mention we are repainting the whole house?  I'm so looking forward to being with family.
But that got me looking ahead to your retirement.  I know you keep putting it off.  Now you're saying maybe a year, maybe two.  All I know is that I can't even really imagine what it would be like to have family living near me.  I've haven't had that since I was 18.  I keep thinking how great it will be to have you guys over for churrascos and get together for Sunday dinners.  I'm thinking it's about time you disciple Grace (Lord help us!) and Emily will ask you questions that will throw you for a loop for sure.  Sarah will only want one thing--for you to swing her.  Though she may let you pull her on the bike too.  Matt will love having a golfing partner I can't say no to (there's a place across the street from Roots that's only $10.00) and I will love having a shopping buddy (I mean Mom).  And Sam...I think it would be a good idea if he spent every other weekend with you.  ;-)
Ok, so this ended up being a post about ME instead of you.  But maybe it will make you smile to know how much I'm looking forward to being with you.
Love you Dad,
Becky

PS I will write a response to your other posts.  Just haven't quite put it all together in my head yet.

Promoted

We were a recon unit with the 1st Air Cav and were made up of approximately 28 men. We normally had three squads of 8. I was the first squad's point man. I would remain so as long as I remained healthy (alive), would be on R & R for a 7 day leave, or injured. I never held another position during all my time in the field. The eight men had titles. They walked in the following order: Point man, who concentrated on his front and cleared a path well enough to allow the machine gunner get through the bush unimpeded. Next was a rifleman who carried extra machine gun ammo and had the title of machine gun assistant. He would normally carry a tri pod for the machine gunner who was one spot back. The machine gunner was normally a stronger then usual athletic type because he had to carry the M60. He was the MVP of the unit when we were in trouble. Next, another rifleman, then the commanding officer, his radio-telephone operator, a rifleman with a grenade launcher instead of an M16, and then another rifleman or possibly two. Most often the lone medic would walk up front with the squad leading. He usually was one who never even carried a weapon for most of them were “conscientious objectors”. I had the utmost respect for all of them. Squad #2 and squad #3 followed with pretty much the same order.

Squads daily rotated walking the point because the lead squad was always under extreme pressure..
On this particular day in August of 1969 I was the number 17th man. I had walked the point on the previous day and it was a “no brainer” that we were moving through dangerous territory. There were “signs” and we were all a bit edgy. We did everything to stay off the trails mostly choosing to make our own for safety sake.
For the past two weeks we had been adjusting to a new lieutenant as our company commander. He was a West Point trained leader and a bit more aggressive than the previous commander who had served his 365 days and rotated back to the USA. He was getting used to us and we him. We called him “sir” even though he didn’t wear his stripes out there in “the boonies” as we called it. Snipers were known to try to take out the people they thought to be the key players.
We were all known by our last names. We were never encouraged to develop close relationships. We were never on a first name basis. You can imagine the reason why. I have forgotten the last name of the young man walking point that day. I just knew that he was every bit as good as I thought myself to be and maybe more. Yet, on that day his life no doubt changed. He walked our company into a bunker complex which is usually “death written all over it” but this day was different. The bunkers were empty except for one. From that bunker the enemy exploded a rocket towards our unit. I could hear the metal pellets smashing the bamboo trees all around me even though I was 17th from the front . We were always very careful to observe the rule of having adequate space between each other. We were all well trained. We always seemed to be at the top of our game when “edgy”. It was so, on this day. Everyone hit the ground and those in front immediately responded with fire power. The M60 was on automatic with the assistant by his side. Squads 3 and 1 were too far back to contribute to this fight. We were all at the ready from all sides. The company commander and telephone operator were super busy at this point relaying information back to headquarters and almost immediately there were “Cobra” helicopters diving toward the bunker with “mini guns” and rockets launched for effect. I could see very little from my position as to what all was going on. I was curious though and wanted to know the whole story. The “Cobras” left. There was silence for a time and then all of a sudden there was another “laud burst” of firepower. It sounded like our weapons.. We learned to tell the difference. Then “the silence."  The “fire fight” was over. It was getting dark and we bedded down for the night.
I wanted to know what took place up front and if our point people were ok. I was relieved to see him sitting near his gear, quiet and pensive. He told me what happened. I quietly went back to my position for the evening, reflecting on the information I had received.
I was convinced that I needed to have a talk with the commanding officer. He wasn’t much older than I and I did respect him and I knew he respected me. He invited me to sit down and asked me what was on my mind. It was a quiet conversation of course, but one we might categorize as “a divine conversation”. It lasted but just minutes.
I said, “Sir, had you given me the order you gave the point man today, I would not have been able to obey you. I understand that the three injured men in the bunker were waving a white flag to surrender and you chose to have them finished off by the point man and machine gunner. They obeyed, I would not have.”
"Why not, Richner?" was his question. I told him that my conscience would not have permitted me to do so, since they were asking to be taken as prisoners. He gave me his reasoning behind the order and I respected his decision. I gave him mine. We knew where each other stood and the next day we were all out searching for the enemy. He was my commanding officer and I walked the point when my turn came up for the next 30 days.
Then, on a day I will never forget, my commander came up to me and said: “Richner, today a helicopter will be coming to drop off supplies and you are to return with the chopper for your next “very important assignment”. Congratulations, You have been selected as the 1 Cav. Brigade Commander's radio, telephone operator and driver. You will receive training for your new responsibilities as soon as you arrive. Your replacement will be arriving here today with the supplies.” He shook my hand and wished me well. Later, my fellow E company comrades shook my hand before climbing onto the supply helicopter and off we headed for Tay Ninh.
The rest of my time in Vietnam I would be working for Brigade commander Colonel Collins. I would be taking him coffee at 5 am in the morning to his command trailer, serving his meals, taking his clothes to be cleaned and picked up, shinning his shoes, handling his jeep radio and picking him up from the helicopter pad and running him to the hospital. He was the kind of leader not everyone was blessed to serve under. He taught me a ton.
I was especially impressed with how he handled injured soldiers and even those who lost their lives. Echo company lost their share including a number of “point men”. I was one of the more fortunate ones and I attribute that to Providence and that conversation with the West Point Lieutenant. Yes, we are to obey those in authority over us, and especially in the military. Opportunities do present themselves every once in a while when someone needs to step up and have a quiet conversation with their leader when he is convinced he “just must”. And leave the rest with the Lord.

Walking Trees

“Saddle up! In ten minutes we meet at the chopper pad”! Just the words we never relished hearing. This meant just one thing. We were off on another assignment. They were called Charlie Alfa’s. In laymen’s terms “Combat Assaults.” At that time I had no idea that 25 of these special assignments would win all of us an “air medal”. I have no idea who was keeping the books on these things nor did I ever care. I suspect that every “grunt” assigned to the First Air Cavalry qualified after just two months of combat service. Our “gear” was always ready. We were on “red alert” every time we were on “stand down” resting in a secure place until called. We always wanted to know what we were heading to and for what purpose but rarely did we get much if any information. We were just told that an enemy unit was spotted from the air and we were to go out and investigate. It was to be a “quiet” investigation. We were “echo company” and our specialty was recon. That means we were specialists at gathering information behind enemy lines with the intent of not coming into contact with the enemy if at all possible. We were to find the enemy and since we were only about 28 in number we tried to avoid fighting at all costs. That was for the bigger combat companies, namely companies A, B, C, and D all of which had about 100 soldiers. We were however all from the 1st Air Cav. and proud to be known as such. There were five or six helicopters waiting for us and we piled in and in no time we were off. The only one who could give us information was the helicopter machine gunner. He said that we were hoping it would be a quiet landing. We went with an escort of two “cobras” and a small Loach helicopter so we knew this was serious stuff. Helicopters need open space to land in and once we got to the dropping zone about 20 minutes later we jumped off and hurried to a clump of trees and hit the ground and waited. The tree line was about two hundred yards in front of us from all sides. Our company commander was waiting for his next orders that would be given by telephone. About 30 minutes later I heard my company commander whisper “Richner prepare to move out”. He gave me the compass numbers and being the point man that day I did a quick check. While that was taking place everyone was also getting prepared to move towards the tree line. So as to not need to constantly check one’s compass reading while on the move I learned to pick out as large of a target as possible and head to that target. It was usually a large tree. By doing this we could pay special attention to what might be ahead of us.
The army gave me very little training as a point man. It was more a matter of instincts and vision and attention to detail. No one volunteered for this job. I only found out later that point men were basically replacing other dead point men. That is why I was there. I was there however because God assigned me to this task. This I was assured of. He gave me training back in the woods of Pennsylvania as a squirrel hunter. What more did I need? As my eyes were finding a large target, preferably a large tree at the compass reading my company commander gave me I was immediately alarmed. It was squirrel hunting 101 right before my eyes. I learned a long time ago as a boy that trees don’t move but squirrels do. About 200 yards ahead of me I saw small trees moving and stopping, moving and stopping and I had never seen this happen in all my life. I alerted my company commander and he asked if I was sure. I said, absolutely certain. He then got on the telephone and called for immediate help. We remained still in that little clump of trees. The 28 of us and we had no idea how many enemy soldiers were out there. One promise stood out in my mind. In our combat infantry training we were told that once the alert was given for help, we would just have to keep the enemy occupied with our M16’s for ten minutes. Help would then be at our sides. I personally don’t think they kept that promise. It seemed like light years. All of a sudden to my left a number of enemy soldiers not knowing we were in the clump of trees started heading in our direction. We did what our instincts and training taught us. We engaged “the heavily armed walking trees”. Artillery shells began pummeling the ground and tree line all around us. “Cobra helicopters with mini guns firing and a host of “flying angels (helicopters filled with 1st Cav. Grunts)” combat comrades were brought to our side by unites on “red alert”. Not one of those soldiers in that little clump of trees were injured that day. A miracle! I don’t think so. I call it Providence.
What an ending. Abrupt because I have a pastor’s prayer breakfast to attend in 15 minutes. Love you!
Dad

The M16

I was one of 6 boys growing up in a small rural town in Pennsylvania. “Guns,”as we called them were very important items. I had experience shooting a BB gun first, a 22 Remmington, an 18 and 20 and 12 gadge shotgun, a 4-10 and a few high powered rifles we shared during deer season between brothers. The 30 odd 6 was my favorite but rarely would my older brothers let me get my hands on that one.
When my number came up in the military draft I received a telephone call telling me that within the next few days I would be drafted into the United States Army and shortly afterwords would no doubt be sent to serve in Vietnam as a combat soldier. I had just graduated from college, was recently married and I already thought I was getting old at age 23. I figured I had one of three choices to make. I could either choose the Air Force, the Navy or the US army. I chose the Army since they had a two year enlistment option. I wanted nothing of any three year programs with a choice of assignments. God certainly wouldn’t let me go to Vietnam where I might have to kill someone. He would certainly keep me out of “combat”, so I thought.
Well, I joined the US army’s two year program which meant that I would have absolutely no options. I was at the mercy of the Army as far as what I would be assigned to do and where I would serve. I was first assigned to Fort Bragg North Carolina for basic training and then to Fort McClellan , Alabama for “advanced infantry” training before being assigned to Vietnam.
It was at Fort Bragg that I was first introduced to the M16 rifle. Before any of us new recruits would be permitted to handle this weapon we were all marched out to a target range for a first hand display of the power of the M16. Our company was about 100 in number from what I recall and we were instructed to sit “at ease” in these bleachers and were told to wait for the demonstration to begin in just a few minutes. We noticed out in front of the bleachers a number of targets at varying distances. Breaking the silence we heard the drill sergeant bark out “Attention”. We all stood up and waited for the next command. Into the demonstration area walked a number of soldiers, “vets,” with their M16’s. They had not loaded them as of yet but we could see their “clips” that in no time could be loaded and unloaded. We were then instructed to be “at ease” and seated. This was my very first experience at seeing anything so amazing in all my life in terms of firepower on display by a very small group of experienced soldiers with the M16. It was awesome. I had never seen tracers being used before. Real bullets with every 4th one a tracer heading out towards targets all over the field. Each magazine had 15 to 20 bullets. As soon as one magazine was emptied, the soldiers would eject the empty magazine and immediately reloaded the already filled other magazine. Each soldier had about 12 magazines. It was a demonstration that lasted but just minutes but the effect was exhilarating to say the least. We were impressed. I was amazed at what just a few guys could do in just a few minutes of time with that weapon. I sort of had the idea that we soldiers would be almost invincible against the enemy with a weapon like this.
Almost immediately after this display of fire power marched back to a conference room. We were then given the order to sit and pay attention. In walks this soldier, dressed in combat uniform holding the M16. He asked us if we were impressed with the weapon. We all said “yes drill sergeant”. In unison, of course. He then explained to us that as powerful as this weapon was, it had one major defect. There was only one remedy for the defect and only we (each individual) were responsible to make sure that this defect would be treated in such a way so as never to fail in combat. NEVER! Our lives and those of our fellow soldiers needed to count on it. He then went on to explain that in Vietnam as in many other war zones soldiers would need to fight on sandy soil. One grain of sand entering the firing chamber could and would shut down the weapon. In Vietnam we would be moving around the war zone in helicopters most of the time on combat assault missions (Charlie Alphas) they called them and soldiers would find them selves in the midst of a sand storm when being picked up and let off into the danger zones. We would have to always be absolutely certain that our weapon would fire. We would have to have this confidence without ever taking a practice shot. Why? We would never be allowed to give our position away to the enemy by making noise just to see if our weapon would fire.
We then watched the drill sergeant “disassemble” the weapon and then blindfolded put it back together in a matter of seconds. We were spell bound. Then he said that from now until we were assigned to a combat unit in Vietnam we would be given an M16 and train to take the weapon apart and keep it clean and put it back together again with full confidence that it would deliver the power it was designed to deliver. We were never allowed to call the M16 a “gun”. It was a lethal weapon, light, easy to handle, easily loaded, with semi automatic and automatic options at our disposal and designed to kill. But with one potential flaw. A dirty weapon was to invite disaster. We would need to be highly disciplined to keep this from ever happening. Our lives depended upon it.

Homework

Hey Dad,
I have some homework for you.  Am I allowed to assign you homework?  I want you to write 3 Vietnam posts.  The first about how you are supposed to keep your gun clean.  The second, the story about how you were on the ground and saw the "trees" moving.  The third story about how you became the general's driver.  In fact, why don't you just tell the stories to Mom how you would if you were talking to a group of young people and then have her type it as you talk?  She's pretty fast, I bet she could keep up.  I'd love to read the stories to the girls for Father's Day. 
Love you,
B   

Leaving...for good.

Hello Becky,

It is Monday morning and I just finished reading the poem you wrote years ago about the train leaving the station. It was probably your dad heading towards Philadelphia and then to the airport heading back to Brazil. Poems that get memorized can be a problem especially if they get cemented into one's brain and do them harm by one's ruminating on the past, the broken, the way it used to be etc. I promise you that I will not try to memorize that poem you wrote from your broken heart. It would paralyze me no doubt.
It is never easy to say goodbye to the people and things we love the most--even things we have held to be foundational. Yesterday, at age 65 plus for example, I said goodbye to baseball. It was something I needed to come to grips with but still not easy. I needed to leave baseball emotionally for my own good and for the development of others younger than I. Soon I will leave it geographically too. I will help pitchers instead of pitching. I thought I was going to have to go in there myself and “save” the game in order for us to qualify for the playoffs. Fortunately, the game was “called” due to a time element that was decided upon prior to the start of the game. No new inning could be started after 12 noon. I would have tried to fix it. I would have gone in that game to try to fix it believing in my heart that I could somehow manage with all my past experience, savvy and one more curve ball or the famous knuckle ball that could still dance and mystify the batter. Thank God for established guidelines for the good of the game. I may wear a coaching uniform but never more a players baseball uniform. It is for the good of the game, and a great game. I remember the movie. Ha Ha!!!
Leaving mom and dad is never easy. Fathers and mothers often make it hard for their children to leave home as well. (Just you wait and see.) The leaving home geographically, financially and emotionally is one big adventure. Dad’s and old coaches can’t fix everything nor can loving moms nor should they think they have to. When will we ever learn that God designed it that way for the good of the game and for us too (with our partner in life) so that we will all live in dependency upon Him? God loves us and His “gracious love” is irresistible. I am super happy about that. And I am so confident that You find Him irresistible as well. You and God however are going to have to figure out the butterflies, the dolphins, the colors, the dreams and their interpretations however because they are completely foreign to me. So, I will pray that God will lead you and protect you and use you for His glory all along the way. And He will. Love you!
Dad

Leaving the Familiar

I'm so tired, Dad.  My back hurts from carrying heavy trays, my muscles hurt from helping Matt build the shed (we did finally finish today), my feet hurt from standing all day, and my ears hurt because the band tonight was so loud.  (Eight weddings down, about 20 to go).  I must be getting old!  Is this how it feels?   The rest of the house is asleep and I am nursing a cold hard cider:-) 
I've been thinking about this poem I wrote a while back ever since I left Rev. Mary's yesterday. Then I was driving home listening to John Mayer's "Stop this Train" and I just really wanted to post it tonight.  His song is actually a bit different than my poem.  "Stop this Train" is about not wanting things to change and wanting to hold on to the way things are with his family forever.  My poem--"Runaway Train"--is about the difficulty of me changing--leaving the safe, the familiar, the comfortable, and wanting to run back to the known, to where somebody else is responsible for the framework I live in.  It's about growing and stretching my wings and flying out of the nest and realizing it's really scary. 
I remember the first time I posted "Runaway Train" a couple of years back.  I think I called you and told you not to panic that I was OK.  I'm still OK.  Actually, the truth is, I'm more OK now than when I wrote it.  But I still feel the familiar pull back to the safety of what I've always known.  And sometimes I feel the need to be saved from where I'm headed.  But not for very long, and not enough to turn back.
Rev. Mary and I spent some time on Friday afternoon praying through some monuments that I had allowed myself to erect.  Things that I have allowed to hold me back from truly moving forward into God's call on my life.  I have let my need for the approval of those I love hinder me so often.  What if they don't see things like I do? What if they reject me because it doesn't fit their plans?  That sense of insecurity and fear has brought me much pause when faced with the idea of moving forward on my own.  But I know that if you truly love me, then none of that will matter to you.  I know that what you most want is for me to be obedient to the leading of the Holy Spirit.  It is certainly what I want for you.  So this poem expresses both the desire to stay in the safety and comfort of the nest, but it also acknowledges the need to learn to fly on our own.  The truth is though, we want the support and affirmation of those we love in the process of moving out of the nest.  Sometimes encouragement is there, but other times, because they fear for us, or for what it might mean for them, those we love are hesitant to encourage us to step fully into the care and direction of God.  At times we must push ourselves out of the nest--but doing so is a painful process--often laden with indecisiveness and vacillation.  This poem is about that.

Runaway Train

He’s taking the 1:15 to Philly
And the wind is getting chilly
Won’t let the tears steal a peek
Force a smile to my cheeks

Cause inside I’m wishing
You could make it all better
With a kiss and a “go get her”
To my dreams

Daddy don’t you leave me
My doubts they are screaming
That I shouldn’t be believing what I do
I’m tired and I’m weak
Just let me sit up on your knee
And tell me that story about the doctor and the bee

Let me go
On that train, that runaway train

I wish you could fix me
Except I’m not broke
Just hoping there’s fertile ground
Under this heavy yoke

Cause inside I’m wishing

You could make it all better

By believing what’s inscribed

On my heart

Daddy don’t you leave me

My doubts they are screaming

That I shouldn’t be believing what I do

I’m bruised and I’m strained

Just let me go with you on that train

I’ll tell you that story about the one that went away

On that train, that runaway train

Let me go

On that train, that runaway train. 

Originally Posted on Deep Calls

Jan. 18, 2008

Ride to the Other Side

“When Jesus heard what had happened…”

His cousin.

Once a baby who had lept in utero at Jesus’ wombed presence.
Once a prophet who spent his days preparing the way Jesus would walk.
Once a baptizer who immersed Jesus in water and witnessed his anointing by the Spirit.
Once a prisoner grappling with his call to be the greatest and the least in the Kingdom.
Now dead, murdered in a royal display of foolishness.

“Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me.”

For a moment, just stop and consider what Jesus might have felt. It occurs to me that one of the hardest things Jesus had to do might have been to let John die. What would it be like not to rescue someone from confusion, pain, and death when you have the power to save them?

“He withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place.”

It's not like Jesus got to deal with this in a vacuum. He’s traveling all over the place teaching and healing. People are crowding him so much the only place he can go to get away is in the middle of a large body of water.

I think it all must have been so hard to come to terms with.
I think he must have been so sad.
I think he must have been so tired.
I think maybe he just wanted to be alone.

“When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them, and healed their sick.”

The boat ride to the other side. That’s all he had…brief moments to grieve, to pray, to commune with John’s disciples. Then he stepped out of the boat and continued to do the work that gave John all the reason to leap, to preach, to baptize, to be imprisoned, and to die.

Sometimes I just wish I had more time…to rest, to process, to prepare, to pray. Sometimes all I have is the boat ride to the other side. I’m learning to cherish the boat ride. And believe that if I am doing those things which He moves me to do when He moves me to do them, the boat ride will be enough.
God grant us renewal before we step out of the boat.

Hello Becky,
For the past few days I have been rather troubled about “things” and have found myself “viajando na maionesa” or in laymen’s terms, daydreaming. I have been spending more and more time trying to understand Dallas Willard and figuring out where he is trying to take me while all the time people around me need help. Last night I went out to visit a family whose husband is back to using drugs again and part of his problem is that he is so stressed out on the job. He is a truck driver and has a daily route and the route is filled with challenges, bad roads, delays, etc. He has to be at work by 4:30 am and doesn’t get home until 8pm. He gets home hungry, tense, already thinking about tomorrow’s assignments and he comes home to an adolescent who needs his time and a crying baby and a wife who needs a loving husband. He can’t sleep well during the night and he may lose his job if he just doesn’t keep up the pace. So, I spent about 45 minutes with him and his family last night. I shared some scripture and prayed with them and we agreed to spend Monday nights for the next 6 weeks from 8:00 until 9:10 together over a cup of coffee or just a glass of water. Probably a hot cup of water would be better for him. Diet coke for me. Ha, ha!
Well, all that said to get to this point. There is so much going on these days in the world of trying to defend ourselves, our positions, our theology, side takings, and there is so much “noise” out there that create divisions, bad blood, etc. I think it has just plain “stalled” God’s program down of helping poor needy people out of serious problems and these problems may take up to 7 years to see resolution. In other words, it is keeping us from loving our neighbors as we love ourselves.
Why can’t we “quietly” go about sharing with others how God has been near and dear to us, and how he has transformed us and when the door is opened we share with them “good news”. Why do we need to “blast” it all over the internet or the news papers, or even from our pulpits? In other words, we do it without calling attention to ourselves, our beliefs, even our strong convictions that don’t sit all that well with the opposition. I believe we need to be able to spend more time just loving people all around us. We do that so we don’t have to spend so much time defending what is so dear to us and at the same time find time to love our families, our neighbors and let God defend His own program. Isn’t that why the underground church in China had and continues to have such success?
I know there is plenty inside these paragraphs that could be torn apart by even the most elementary thinkers and the “what ifer’s” however they do carry a lot of weight in my mind and my soul. When you and I find time out on the porch in October and walking up to the apple orchard in Etown, we will have plenty to talk about and without shouting. In the meantime, let’s be “heads up” with the needy all around us. Don’t interpret this as my signing off. I will be here every day in dialogue. But don’t get frustrated if I don’t answer your questions. Remember, Jesus rarely answered the questions and when He did, it created even greater dissonance. Love you just the way you are. Dad

The Fallout

Photo by Bgrace*

It was the end of 2008. Matt was reading a book called Cosmos and Psychology by Richard Tarnas. I think he bought it at the Library Book Sale. Every once in a while he would draw my attention to something he was reading. Mostly books like this are so outside of my sphere of understanding and interest that it’s a bit painful to give a good effort at listening. But something Matt read connected to some things I had been reading (posted Oct. 2008) so I paid attention.
The author was talking about Copernicus. Wikepedia explains that Copernicus is the man responsible for heliocentrism—the astronomical model in which the Earth and planets revolve around a stationary sun at the center of the universe. Copernicus published his theories on his deathbed. Thus he didn’t have to face most of the upheaval his theories against geocentrism (the earth at the center of the universe) brought about.
Galileo was one of his converts, but the Catholic Church condemned heliocentrism as false and contrary to Scripture. The Roman Inquisition tried and found Galileo “vehemently suspect of heresy” and forced Galileo to recant his support of it. He spent the rest of his life under house arrest.
The following is a long and tedious 2 page excerpt from Cosmos and Psyche. I thought about trying to condense and summarize it and felt I couldn’t do it justice—I’m not smart enough. (Have I ever mentioned how much I don’t like math and science?) But really, it is very insightful. So I’m going to post the excerpt and then try to explain why I connected so much with it.

“It was not primarily empirical considerations nor, in the narrow modern sense, “rational” factors that were decisive in persuading the early Copernican revolutionaries to pursue and elaborate the heliocentric hypothesis. These were necessary but not sufficient conditions for such a radical change. It was, above all, powerful spiritual and even aesthetic intellectual predispositions that made the crucial difference. And it was these predispositions…all supporting a mystical-mathematical cosmology that effectively transformed the significance of the rational and empirical factors.

…To adopt the Copernican idea in those first decades took above all an overriding passion for a certain kind of intellectual beauty and precision, a sensibility that so valued elegance, harmony, simplicity, and coherence as intrinsic qualities of the divine heavens that one would be willing to ignore both the evidence of the senses and the arguments from contemporary physics against the movement of the Earth, confident that in time adequate explanations could be found.

The first Copernicans had experienced a kind of inner conversion. Their epiphany was at once intellectual and spiritual, psychological and cosmological, and all their research and thinking served the new vision by which they were happily possessed. Their intuition ran ahead far in advance of all the theoretical and empirical work that had to be done before the new theory could be fully justified and grounded.

Tarnas quotes Galileo, “Nor can I have ever sufficiently admired the outstanding acumen of those who have taken hold of this opinion and accepted it as true: they have, through sheer force of intellect done such violence to their own senses as to prefer what reason told them over that which sensible experience showed them to be the contrary.”

For the Copernican hypothesis to be made reasonable, an entirely new conception of reason itself had to be forged: new ways of deciding what counts as truth, new ways of recognizing patterns, new forms of evidence, new categories of interpretation, a new understanding of causality. Long-established rules of scientific methodology had to be overturned. An entirely new epistemology (theory of knowledge) and ontology (theory of existence) had to be formulated. The nature of the Copernican revolution was so fundamental that what had to be rethought was not only all the conventional scientific theories but the entire established hierarchy of humanities place in the universal scheme of things: its relation to the rest of nature and to the cosmos, its relation to the divine, the basis for its morality, its capacity for certain knowledge, its historical self-understanding. Such a radical transformation could not happen overnight. For the cultural mind and psyche to support that transformation, the passage of entire generations was required, including the deaths of the many intellectual authorities who were incapable of escaping the hold of the reigning paradigm. The required change was not just physical but metaphysical: The entire world needed to be revisioned. In the end, the implications of the great shift—cosmological, religious, moral, epistemological, psychological, existential—were so far-reaching that it would take centuries to work them out, even to become conscious of them.

Gradually, the passage of time, and heroic efforts against powerful opponents and entrenched assumptions, brought about the complete triumph of the Copernican shift.”

OK, so if you are still with me, let me first clarify that I am not trying to say that I am some sort of genius that has come up with a new way of seeing the universe and am now trying to find some way of getting everyone to receive my enlightenment.
What I found incredibly helpful in these few paragraphs was the description of what happens when we have looked at the universe through a particular paradigm—and then that paradigm collapses. The author is so insightful about how something we may take for granted has so much influence on how we have constructed our world view. The fall out—if we care to notice and find cohesiveness and take stock of the implication--is inexplicably overwhelming. Yet, for these “believers” there was an intuition—a “knowing” you could say, that was more compelling than the evidence they had in hand. They possessed a faith that as they continued to study and learn, the evidence would eventually line up with their theories.
There was so much opposition to this heliocentric theory.  Theologians alone had great reason to reject it. If the sun did not revolve around the earth, than didn’t that imply that Joshua was erroneous when he said God made the sun stand still? This would require a faith that was able to understand the truth of Scripture in a new way. And let’s face it. Is it really necessary that we know that? I mean, how many Godly people of that day were able to fulfill their call to follow Jesus without knowing that the planets really revolved around the sun? If it were that important for us to know and understand, why didn’t God tell us…or Joshua for that matter?
Except that for some reason, God did, at that time, decide to use a few men to see the universe differently—in truth. Wouldn’t our world be different today in ways we cannot even fathom, had they not the courage to follow what they could see and not yet fully understand? But the violence they themselves had to do to their own minds, to see the possibilities in a different light were unimaginable. My guess is, in comparison, the violence done to them by others was probably near insignificant. But do I believe God gave them divine insight and strength and courage to do their work even if at times they questioned if they were losing their mind or even their own soul? Yes, I do.
Personally, Dad, this is what I feel I want to communicate to you from this about my journey:
I did not choose to destroy the paradigm through which I was raised to see the world and understand God. In that paradigm, I too would have believed that experiences like mine come from the imagination. When circumstances would occur that I could not explain, I would have reveled in the luxury of dismissal because finding coherence would not have been necessary for my survival. I believe God, not Satan, nor an overactive imagination was responsible for the demolition of my paradigm. I could give you story after story about why, but in the end belief requires so much more than circumstances.
What I did choose was to follow God down this path. I experienced an enormous amount of dissonance because at some level I understood it was a foundational change that would effect everything in my paradigm--how I perceived and interacted with God and His world, myself, my history and my future.  It was too much for me to process at once.  It was extraordinarily painful--actually I will use the term traumatic because I experienced text-book post traumatic syndrome.  I read somewhere that the trauma you experience is more intense depending on how closely it violates your most deeply held convictions.  You couldn't get any deeper than this--I felt like my God killed me (though I don't look at it exactly that way now) or that my God died.  And every time that my new attempts at understanding were called into question by the circumstances around me, the authorities over me, or my inability to defend myself I went through the trauma all over again--but worse because I didn't know how to believe I wasn't mistaken.  I didn't have any proof...only the same voice calling me to follow.
Why would God demolish my paradigm? I’m not sure I know the answer yet. But though there have been many times that I have doubted His goodness, I do believe He is truly good.
You may be right—you may not have needed the gifts of the Spirit (as I understand them) or foreknowledge or the ability to hear God speak words into your mind to do the will and work of God as He has revealed to you and called you. And the thought that keeps coming to me as I read your writings is that I’m not sure I would even want your paradigm to collapse as mine did. That is not a prayer I have or will at this point pray. I know what it cost me and honestly, I think it would cost you even more.
I do think that it would be helpful for you to understand the deepest source of my pain and I think this is a start.  I will explain further, as well as I can while still protecting what needs to be protected. A few months ago I wrote about Good Friday and wasn’t sure when the Lord would release me to post it. I think that now is time and I’ll try to put it up soon.
I hope this helps you to understand a bit more where I am coming from.
By the way—at the top of this post where Oct. 2008 is a different color—that is a link to an older post. If you click on it, it will take you there.  I found much comfort in those thoughts during that time in my life.
Love you,
B

*The picture at the top is one I took at Mt. St. Helens. 

 It is a type of flora that grows in the aftermath of a volcanic eruption. 

 It grows out of the ashes.  I keep this photo on my desk. 

Hearing God

Hello Becky,
I pulled Dallas Willard's book off my shelf again and started reading it again. The book Hearing God===Developing a conversational relationship with God. I then looked up in my old documents and found something I wrote to myself during a meditation a few years back. It was entitled Hearing God speak. I read it through a few times just to see if my thinking has changed on the subject since that time a few years ago. I can't say that my thinking on the matter has changed. And you are absolutely correct in what you said conserning "seeing things through the lens of the teachers we have studied under and the lens of our own experience". Two of the 5 greatest powers that mold us Becky (according to Tozer) are the people we keep company with and the books we read or the "voices" we listen to. Obviously you have kept company with many I have not kept company with and you are well read from authors I have never even heard of. You have also listened to many other people (voices) that I have never chosen to listen to or would have --had I the chance (probably). Is it any wonder that we don't see eye to eye on a lot of issues.
Well, we are in dialogue mode and I will sign off for the weekend. Love you. Can't wait to get through the winter here in south Brazil.
Dad
Attachment:
God leads us and directs our footsteps and we need to put ourselves into position to hear His voice. We need to converse with Him daily. We need to be in His Word and consider ourselves every bit as important as the men of faith in past generations. He still is about saving the lost. He is still using His host of angels to accomplish His purpose. He says to them “Move and do this or do that” and they accomplish His purposes. He speaks to us as well to speak on this or that subject, to do this or do that or not to do this or that. Sometimes He says to wait upon Him. Sometimes we want answers now but He is not about to let us in on what He is doing. We must learn patience and in the meantime just grow in our reliance upon His goodness and grace. He is perfect in all His ways. What am I to do today? Keep on fearing Him and loving Him and listening to Him and be ready to go and do whatever He commands. It will always be doable with His enabling.
What is hard right now is that we are under supported. That is what the print out says. Is that really the fact though. Is God ever under supporting His servants? Will He not supply us with all of our needs through other means? We may have to practice better economy. We may have to let our need known to others. We may have to just ask Him about these things and get His ok on letters to write or pastors to call . We do however need to recognize that in His good time He will supply no matter what. Why, because He has promised to meet our needs. If we need to go back home to raise funds then we can assume that He wants us away from the field for His reasons or wants us back in the states to accomplish something there or He is in the process of teaching us something we need growing in.
God is really not needing us to have any special gifts of miracles or languages or healing powers these days to get the attention of anyone. They all have His Word and if they don’t believe His Word then there is little hope for them any way. He can put within them this disposition to trust His Word. We as His children do need to shine as lights in our character before the world so as to be living proof of what God and His Word has produced and by His Spirit is continuing to produce. We are new creations and living proof that something good, supernatural, uplifting, liberating, free has happened to us. God wants to call others to His Word and to His Message through us His disciples. We are to be daily guided by Him and listening to Him and empowered by Him to accomplish what He has to be accomplished now on the road to bringing about His final purposes here on this earth. Does He have to give people the gift of seeing into the future today? I think not. Does He have to give people the gift of healing to accomplish His purposes in the world today? I think not. He does the healing according to His will and purposes. We just pray that His will is accomplished in the life of that person and believe in the future goodness and favor and grace of God. If He chooses not to heal then I must just leave it to His Sovereign will and be content in that. He will give me grace to even find contentment in the difficult things.
Am I content with the growth of our people out in Cai? Yes and No. I am thrilled with what He has already done but I believe He wants to do much more. I am convinced that He wants that work to grow even more and that He wants to use weak vessels like Dan and Diana Richner and Randy and Sarah Southwell to move that work towards independent status. This is our calling right now and when He calls us to move on then that calling will be rather clear. What about God speaking to me about Marcio? Did God have to give me a special revelation in this matter? No! I do believe that God could not have made it more clear to me that this was not the time for Marcio and Catia to be working with us at Cai. Could I have been mistaken? I believe not! Do I need some kind of confirmation in the future such as hearing that Marcio has strayed from the good path? No, I don’t need any such confirmation. What I need is to be in position to hear God speak. Being daily in His Word and walking in obedience to His Word and Having the right desires in my heart and walking in humility recognizing that this is His work and not mine, are all key to hearing God and being directed by Him. I believe that Marcio is far better where he is presently because it is where God has directed his steps and God has even used me to help him get there and at the same time protected this work from being harmed.
What do I want God to speak to me about in the near future? I guess it is just the daily things. I want Him to speak to me about how to best help others ---principally my family and our people at Cai. I want Him to guide me in what to share with our People. I want Him to guide me and us as to where we should expend our energies and giftedness. I want Him to guide and speak to Maicol, Lu, Douglas, Daniel and Rodrigo and all of our people associated with this ministry so that they too will be guided into useful service and bring God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit great glory. Without Him we will all fail. Without listening to His Voice we will be frustrated and fail. Today Father, I want to hear Your voice and be led by Your Spirit and know and do Your will and I have every confidence that You will give me the grace to be successful in hearing Your voice, doing Your will and being all that You want me to be. If I fail then Father it will be my fault. It will be because I am living according to my flesh and am about doing my thing and not yours. If this happens I will be disciplined of course by a loving Father who will help me to confess and repent of my sin. Hopefully that will not be necessary today.

Thoughts About the Butterflies...

The butterflies and Emily who was three then and what God was at that time trying to show you was that she would “fly again” has certainly come true. She is now about to turn 9 if I am not mistaken and what a beautiful little granddaughter she is. I can’t wait to see her in October and November. I just love the fall season in Pennsylvania. I think this year we will all need to visit the apple orchard and pick some of the juiciest apples


On planet earth. Becky, having read your blogs to this point I must admit that I have real reservations that we will be doing a lot of diologue. I am not a debater and I am not near as intelligent as you are nor your teachers. My only hope in all of this comes from what the Psalmist said in 119:99 “I have more insight than all my teachers, for I meditate on your statues.”

Here are some things that raised a flag in the butterfly story but one that is actually common to many people. You said that you “began to see certain things and had a strong sense they were forthcoming”. You had a sense that some difficulties lay ahead for Emily. So you did what we are all instructed to do from the “sacred scriptures”, we pray. I will never forget when I kissed your mom good by and boarded an airplane with the destination of Vietnam back in 1969. We had no children at that time. On the airplane I had a sense that something bad was forthcoming and after my first encounter with the enemy on LZ Ike only two weeks after landing there I believed I would actually die there. So, I prayed and others prayed and God was gracious and now I am going on 66 years of age and still have a sense that bad things could be forthcoming. That of course is not all bad. In a way, that is why we have our children taking part in Sunday School and learning God’s ways and learning about a God who loves us and knows how to protect us and meet all of our needs in a sick, evil, dangerous world and that we are at war.

When you said in your blog that you followed the Lord to a yard sale not knowing where or what would happen when you got there I can sort of relate to that as well. You are a chip off the old block. It seems that when I am stressed out about something, I often get the urge to just go garage shopping or yard sale shopping and it doesn’t really matter where I am heading but any sale will do. I am not so sure I could blame all those visits on the Lord however after all these years of ministry. We do have strong propensities and I do know that fathers pass most of the bad ones off to their children so you might want to give your dad credit for that one.

You ended that blog with a very interesting word and this is one that I believe our diologue might be dealing with. Hopefully, it will bear some fruit. Here are your words: “The idea of restoration through a butterfly”. Becky, Emily is flying like the butterflies and so too are Grace and Sarah. So too is your dad at 65. It is just that he is flying in “slow mo”. You do remember though a time when your dad was not flying high. It was a very painful time and I never suffered anything like it prior to or thank God afterwords. It was a school I would never want to return to. I can say as the Psalmist said, “Before I was afflicted I went astray but now I obey your word.” For me it was something quite common of those who are in the ministry or heading into or out of the ministry. It has put many a flying butterfly into a mode of needing restoration. I was so naïve about the effect bitterness can have on anyone and especially since I felt justified in my opinions. God was gracious to me and to our family and I am thankfully among the restored and hopefully God will use me to help many others to the same flying status.

The butterflies on the beach that were so beautiful yet damaged and died before their time instead of beautifying God’s created earth challenged you and I can relate to that as well. That is why your mom and I are still here in Brazil. That is what ministry is all about. God is not willing that any should perish. They don’t have to either. We don’t need to be so intelligent and try to figure it all out. We don’t need to know it “all”. We don’t even need a special calling! There are plenty of butterflies in every neighborhood all over the world and they need rescuers like you and like me.

Well, by now you know that once you give me an open door I usually go through and pay the price afterwards. Just try your best to be gracious to this “old man” and try to respect your elders and remember to be slow to speak, quick to hear and slow to be angry. I have tried to follow this rule and that is why I have been very slow to respond to the butterflies posts. I may take even longer to respond to the post on dreams.

I do love you and always will and can’t wait to fly some together in ministry like we used to at Edwardo Menezes hospital with the aids patients who were not flying well at the time.
Love you much.
Dad