Sprawled on the couch, my roommate Kathy half-heartedly stroked our puppy Phoebe’s ears and nodded her agreement.  “We are waaay past the honeymoon stage.”

Several months into our first year of teaching English in northeast Asia, the initial wide-eyed enthusiasm over the novelties of living in a foreign country had worn off.  My students who were once so sweet and obedient were now often unengaged and uncooperative.  Shopping among the tanks of live eels and barrels of squirming silkworms at the fresh market no longer felt like an adventure.  Getting stared at in the streets of our remote town and having strangers ask to take pictures with the wai guo ren (foreigners) had lost its appeal.

I knew God had called me to live in Asia for this year, and I had been excited about building relationships with my students and sharing my faith as opportunities arose.  But on days like this, I was tempted to put a bag over my head when I walked out the door, and pray that people would just leave me alone.

Grabbing a notebook, Kathy started scribbling furiously.  “What we need to do,” she decided, interrupting my personal gripe-fest and pity-party, “is to think of all the things we like about living here.”  She showed me a lined page with the title Things We Love About Asia on the top.  We came up with several items together right away, laughing at some of the memories they sparked.  It was amazing how quickly we filled the page!  Here are a few of our entries:

#8 – Riding the number 10 bus to the end of the line, just to see where it goes, for only 12 US cents.

#16 – Signing autographs in my middle school students’ notebooks.

#20 – The six-year-old students standing up at the beginning of class and saying in unison, “Good morning, Teacher!”

Over the weeks and months, we added new items to the list that we kept on our coffee table.  When I was having a particularly bad day, the list reminded me of some of the things I could thank God for.

#21 - Quiet mornings with my coffee and my Bible and my worshp music playing.

#22 – Walks along the river with my dog in the early evening as the sun sets.

Naming the gifts God has given us is an act of receiving, Ann Voskamp explains in her book One Thousand Gifts. “Thanksgiving is the evidence of our acceptance of whatever He gives,” Voskamp writes.  “Thanksgiving is the manifestation of our Yes! To His grace.”

Writing our list didn’t change the circumstances of our life in Asia.  Kathy and I still sometimes had uncooperative students, language difficulties, cultural barriers, and daily irritations of life as a foreigner in our small rural town.  But as we intentionally looked for and named the everyday gifts strewn on our path, we were reminded of what a full, rich life we have, and our hearts were in a position to give thanks!  Giving thanks in ALL things is a daily choice – make it a lifestyle!

Going Vertical!

MJ

“Always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Ephesians 5:20 (NIV)

“Have you seen my purse?” I asked our smiling and attentive waitress.  “It was right here, hanging on my chair.”

Staffed by the particular people group that my team was praying for and trying to minister to, this riverside restaurant in my small East Asian city was a favorite place to take guests.  Though it was a bit pricey, we liked to give them our business and interact with the servers. 

The waitress’ smile never wavered.  “No, Miss, you didn’t have a purse there.  You must have left it at home.”

I was starting to feel like I was losing my mind.  Our table was at the far end of the restaurant, and I was sitting with my back to the wall. No one had gone behind me except our waitress…

Suddenly it hit me.  When I took out a business card to give our waitress, she had to have seen the cash in my wallet (a whole month’s salary that I’d just received that morning), plus my cell phone and digital camera.  It must have been the waitress who stole my purse. And the whole staff of the restaurant seemed to be in on it, backing her up on her claims of innocence.

“How could they DO this?” I fumed inwardly.  “The whole reason I left the U.S.and moved to Asiais for THESE people!  I’ve lived here all this time, prayed for them every day, tried to show the love of Christ to them, and this is how they repay me???”

For months I didn’t want to even walk past that restaurant.  I stewed in anger.  One day as I walked along the river, I realized that Satan was using this to try to turn me against the very people I had come to serve.  He would love to steal my joy and poison me with bitterness.  

Repenting of my wrong attitudes, I chose to forgive the waitress and staff of the restaurant.  Reluctantly at first, I began to pray blessing over them and their business, and slowly God changed my heart.  Eventually, by God’s grace, I was able to enter that restaurant again and face that waitress with a smile and the love of Christ – the love that repays evil with good.

Going Vertical!

MJ

“Do not repay anyone evil for evil. …On the contrary, if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. …Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” Romans 12:17,20-21 (NIV)

But something especially bothered Rhoda, one of the members of the tour group.  She had searched for a particular name in the room dedicated to those who helped Jews hide and escape from the Nazis, but the famous rescuer was nowhere to be found.  As they were exiting the building at the end of the tour, she decided to ask their guide about it.

“Do you know the story of Corrie ten Boom?” Rhoda prodded.

“Never heard of her,” the guide answered gruffly.

“Corrie ten Boom was a Christian woman from Amsterdam who helped save many Jews by hiding them in a secret room in her house,” Rhoda explained.  “Her whole family was arrested by the Nazis, and eventually all but Corrie died in a concentration camp.

“But what makes her story unique is what happened after the war.  Years later, Corrie met one of the Nazi guards who had been the most cruel to her and her family.  Immediately feelings of anger and hatred against this man rose up in her.  Yet she knew that only by forgiving him would she be set free.  Praying with each step for God to give her strength, she walked up to the former prison guard, looked him in the eye, shook his hand, and was actually able to forgive him in her heart!”

The tour guide, who had only been listening half-heartedly to the story, now got visibly angry.  “How could she forgive that man?  Some things shouldn’t be forgiven.”

Whirling away, he stalked back to the building, without even saying goodbye to the rest of the group.

Some things shouldn’t be forgiven. The tour guide was right.  That Nazi guard didn’t deserve to be forgiven.  The truth is that none of us do.

In unimaginable pain, suffering a slow death at the hands of unjust and cruel Roman soldiers, Jesus gasped, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:24).  He was talking about you and me.

I don’t deserve that kind of forgiveness.  I could never earn it.  I could never pay Him back.  I can only thank Him for His amazing grace.  And because Jesus forgives ME when I don’t deserve it, I can ask Him for the grace and the strength to forgive others – even when they don’t deserve it.

“Rarely will anyone die for a righteous person – though perhaps for a good person someone might actually dare to die. But God proves His love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us.”

Romans 5:8 (NRSV)

Sitting on the edge of my seat in the observation area, I was enthralled with the intricate process of glass-blowing, manipulating liquid glass into beautiful works of art. The shimmering bubble grew bigger and bigger, until, stretched too thin, the glass suddenly shattered.  There was a collective gasp from the audience as we stared at the once-beautiful object, now a pile of broken shards.  But the instructor just smiled.

“We recycle everything in our glass-blowing lab,” she explained, picking up a paper-thin fragment from the cement floor.  “Nothing is wasted.  These pieces will be melted down in the furnace so they can be used over and over again.”

The glass-blowers then started again, patiently dipping, heating, rolling, shaping, blowing, squeezing and re-heating the liquid glass.  Finally the finished product emerged – a glistening Christmas wreath, complete with delicately-shaped flowers, leaves, and a big bow.

As one year has ended and a new year is beginning, I’ve been thinking a lot about those shattered fragments on the floor of the glass-blowing lab.  There are areas of my life that seem to be broken pieces, destined for the trash.  Things I hoped for in this past year that didn’t come to pass.  Relationships that have drifted apart or aren’t what I wish them to be.  Plans that failed.  Great ideas that came to nothing.

It doesn’t seem fair.  It doesn’t seem right.  And I find myself raging at God sometimes, wondering why He allowed these things.  The verses in Romans 9:20-21 seem to be speaking straight to me today.  “But who indeed are you, a human being, to argue with God?  Will what is molded say to the one who molds it, ‘Why have you made me like this?’” (NRSV).

 When all I can see are the broken pieces, I can trust that the Master has a purpose in it all.  He gently picks up the jagged fragments and puts them all in the “glory hole” – the blazing furnace – until it comes out as shimmering, golden molten glass, ready to be re-shaped and molded according to His ultimate design.  He makes “all things beautiful in its time” (Ecclesiastes 3:11, NIV).

The year my youngest brother was born, however, was a very unusual Christmas.  My dad had unexpectedly lost his job a few months earlier, and it was increasingly difficult to provide for our family of six. Sitting us down in the living room one day in December, my parents explained to my younger brothers and me that we might not have presents that year. Though I was only nine years old at the time, I sensed some of the seriousness of the situation. I remember the quiet confidence of my parents as they prayed and entrusted our family to God, thanking Him for His provision for all of our needs.

Ding-Dong! The doorbell rang sharply on Christmas Eve. My brother opened the door, then called to the rest of us to come quickly. We all crowded in the doorway, staring in disbelief. There was no one there. But on the ground were bags of groceries, including a huge turkey for Christmas dinner, and wrapped packages for each of us!

Upon opening the gifts, we found toys and clothes for baby Daniel, wooden blocks for three-year-old Michael, a microscope set for seven-year-old Stephen, and a sweater with pink and purple hearts for me – exactly my size!

We never found out who left those Christmas gifts on our front step. There was no note or indication of the giver’s identity. Jokingly we called it our “mystery Santa.” But we all knew that it wasn’t Santa at all. God was taking care of us. That Christmas I learned more about the character of God as our loving Father, who provided not only for our needs, but above and beyond!

Going Vertical!

MJ

“And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.”

Philippians 4:19 (NIV)

What made this discovery border on the miraculous was that our family was living in Guatemala that year.  At twelve years old, I knew enough to realize that pine trees and fir trees don’t grow in a tropical Central American climate!  So we were all shocked to discover a cluster of full, pungent-smelling evergreens in Guatemala City’s central market a few weeks before Christmas – and at a very good price!

With great excitement, my brothers and I decorated our gorgeous tree with strings of colored lights and handmade ornaments of gold-painted macaroni and small photos bordered in red and green glittery frames.  But after only two or three days, some of the needles started turning brown and falling off.  In less than a week our once full and vibrant Christmas tree was looking bare and scraggly.  We were distressed.  What was wrong?

Peering between the brittle needles, we finally discovered the source of the problem.  The now-dying limbs were actually branches cut from another evergreen, nailed to a straight trunk in the shape of a Christmas tree.  No matter how much water we put in the base of the tree, none of it was getting to the branches and pine needles.  There was no life flowing through this tree.  Our tree was dead on arrival.

Like that ill-fated Christmas tree, often I give the appearance that I’ve got it all together and I’m doing fine on my own.  My branches look like they’re green and vibrant.  But when my own strength quickly dries up and I feel that I’m starting to wilt, I have to ask myself, “Have I spent time drinking from the water of God’s Word today?”  That’s the only source that can revive my soul.

What about you?  Is there life flowing through your branches?  Or are you slowly decaying from the inside? The health of your “branches” and “needles”- your words, your actions, your relationships – depends on your source of nourishment.  Soak up the life-giving water found in the pages of the Bible, so that you will be “a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season, and whose leaf does not wither!” (Psalm 1:3, NIV).

Going Vertical!

MJ

This is it.  She’s gone.  Heart pounding, I called for my parents.

“She’s still breathing.” At my mom’s quick appraisal I breathed a small sigh of relief.  But we weren’t out of danger yet.  I snapped into crisis mode, helping mom and dad maneuver my one-hundred-year-old grandmother into her bed.

As my mom and I scurried around checking Grandma’s blood pressure or putting a cool cloth on her forehead, my dad hardly left her side.  “It’s OK, Mom,” he stroked her hand tenderly, “We’re right here.  We love you.” Then, as he smoothed the sheets and adjusted the pillow under her head, I heard him murmur, “Thank You, Jesus.  Thank You, Jesus. Thank You, Jesus.”

Suddenly all the tension of the last several minutes came tumbling to the surface and I wanted to scream – Grandma may be dying! How can you be thanking God at a time like this? 

Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego knew what it was to face death.  The three Hebrew men were willing to be thrown into the fire rather than bow down to a man-made idol.  “If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand,” they boldly declared to King Nebuchadnezzar.  “But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up” (Daniel 3:17-18, NIV, emphasis mine).

Like those Hebrew men so many years ago, my dad chose to give thanks even in the face of death.  He was giving thanks not because he felt grateful for the circumstances, but because he was trusting in a loving God who is greater than the circumstances. 

Miraculously, after a few tense hours, my grandmother recovered from this incident and today is as perky as ever!  But before we knew the outcome, I had already settled the issue in my heart – Even if You take her home tonight, Lord, I still choose to thank You because You are good.  As I declared my trust in a sovereign God who loves me, my heart was filled with peace.

Do you have an “even if” faith?  Are you willing to give a sacrifice of thanksgiving in the face of pain, loss, or even death?  Settle it at the extreme – resolve to give thanks in the “even if” places in your life!

Going Vertical!

MJ

“He who offers a sacrifice of thanksgiving honors Me.”  Psalm 50:14, NIV

“You keep off my lawn with your roller skates, you hear?  And stay away from my geraniums!”

Underneath all the heavy makeup, full hoop skirts, long gloves, and that ridiculous hat, I was thrilled to be portraying the cranky Miss Jonas in my high school production of “Papa Was a Preacher.”

As I came off the stage, the superintendent of our small Christian school approached me.  “I had no idea you could be so mean and nasty!” he shook his head in disbelief.

The truth was, everyone was surprised by my performance.  My classmates and teachers only knew me as the painfully shy girl who kept her head down in the hallways and didn’t speak up in class unless called on.  Yet as “Miss Jonas,” I could yell and scowl and stomp around on the stage, things I would never dream of doing in real life.

Good Christian girls don’t get angry.  At least that’s what I thought. But I was angry.  I was angry at the injustices I saw at the age of twelve in Guatemala – kids living in trash dumps or begging for food at busy intersections.  I was angry at the hypocrisy of classmates who had all the right answers in Bible class, but would get drunk and high on the weekends.  And I didn’t know what to do with my anger.  So I kept it inside for years, until cranky Miss Jonas finally gave me permission to be angry - at least on stage.

David, the Hebrew shepherd-turned-king, was angered by evil and injustice too.  But rather than let his anger build into explosive rage, he repeatedly and passionately vented his feelings to God.  “How long, LORD?” he writes in Psalm 13.  “Will you forget me forever?  …How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart?”

Yet David was not just railing against an empty sky or hurling his complaints into a void.  He knew that God heard him and cared about his pain.  “But I trust in your unfailing love;” David concludes, “my heart rejoices in your salvation.  I will sing the LORD’s praise, for he has been good to me.”*

It wasn’t until years after playing Miss Jonas in that high school production that I was forced to confront my anger honestly.  The first step was realizing that it is OK to be angry, as long as I don’t take out my anger in sinful ways.  Now when I recognize anger starting to build, I take it to Jesus.  I know He’s not shocked or threatened by anything I say, and He still loves me after I vent all my rage.

How do you deal with anger?  Do you scream into your pillow?  Go for a run?  Take it out on a punching bag?  Consider taking your anger to Jesus.  He’s waiting.  He’s listening.  He cares.  “Tell me more, my child,” I imagine Him saying, “Tell me more.”

Going Vertical!

MJ

*Psalm 13:1-2, 5-6 (NIV)

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes glued to the pen-and-ink illustrations of the large spiral-bound book, I listened with rapt attention as my teacher brought to life the story of a feisty little Irish girl named Amy Carmichael.

“So, believing that God hears and answers prayer, young Amy knelt beside her bed one night and asked God to please change her brown eyes to blue. She went to bed happy, confident that He would answer her prayer. But in the morning, Amy was crushed to discover the same brown eyes staring back at her from the mirror.”

Fingering one of my long braids, I sighed softly. I could identify with Amy. Every time I read of Rapunzel’s shining golden hair or Goldilocks’ curly tresses, I imagined how much prettier I would be if my stick-straight dark brown hair could be transformed into soft blonde curls.

“In 1895 Amy Carmichael signed up for missionary service and sailed to India,” our teacher continued. “Horrified by the plight of young girls sold as slaves in the Hindu temples, she began to rescue and care for them. But it was dangerous work. The temple priests didn’t want the girls to leave. So in order to not attract unnecessary attention to herself as a foreigner, Amy decided to dress in the colorful native saris. She even used coffee to make her pale skin darker!”

“Finally Amy realized God’s wisdom in not answering her childhood requests to change her eye color. Blue eyes would have been impossible to hide, but her dark brown eyes were the same color as the Indians that jostled her in the streets! Over the next fifty-six years, through Amy Carmichael’s rescue missions, she became ‘Amma,’ or mother, to over one thousand abandoned and abused children. All this may not have been possible if God had answered her prayer and changed her eyes to blue!”

Mouth gaping, my ten-year-old brain tried to take this in. So God has a reason for making my hair brown instead of blonde? I couldn’t imagine what that reason could be. But I thought that if Amy Carmichael could trust God’s purpose in giving her brown eyes instead of blue, then I could maybe trust Him too.

Years later, as God took me to Latin America and to East Asia, I realized that my dark hair was a blessing. I was able to blend in more with the crowd, crossing some of the cultural barriers and prejudices against outsiders. Though I certainly couldn’t pass for Guatemalan or Chinese, I didn’t stand out nearly as much as a blonde or red-head!

The God of all the universe has a specific purpose for YOU. Even if you never understand it all, you can trust Him to use everything in your life, even the difficult or painful things, for good.

“I am God and there is no one like me, declaring the end from the beginning and from ancient times things not yet done, saying, ‘My purpose shall stand, and I will fulfill my intention,’ calling a bird of prey from the east, the man for my purpose from a far country. I have spoken, and I will bring it to pass; I have planned, and I will do it.”

Isaiah 46:9-11 (NRSV)

Observing his little brood, the naturalist was struck by how content the turkeys were.  Days were filled with the thrill of the hunt for grasshoppers in the tall grasses, the excitement of exploring the swamps and trees of their surroundings, and the cheerful chatter with one another in chirps, squawks and trills.  Even predatory snakes didn’t cause alarm.  The turkeys simply showed the serpent who was boss, pecking at him tauntingly, then playfully jumping out of the way when he attempted to strike.

“As humans we have this peculiar predisposition to be always thinking ahead, and living a little bit in the future,” Hutto reflected.  But these birds didn’t appear to be anxious about where their next meal would come from, or distressed if they got caught in an unexpected rain-shower.  Every challenge was a welcome adventure, and every discovery a source of pure joy.

For the wild turkeys, Joe Hutto says, “the world is not better a half a mile through the woods.  It’s not better an hour from now.  It’s not better tomorrow.  The wild turkeys reminded me to be present.”

I don’t know about you, but I could learn a few things from those turkeys.  How much time and energy do I waste worrying about things I have no control over?  I know my Heavenly Father is a good and dependable provider.  My experience shows me that He always gives me what I need.  Yet I repeatedly am consumed by anxious thoughts about my future.

Maybe Jesus was thinking about wild turkeys when He reminded us not to be anxious about tomorrow.  He says, “That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life – whether you have enough food and drink, or enough clothes to wear. Isn’t life more than food, and your body more than clothing? Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to him than they are? Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?” (Matthew 6:25-27, NLT).

What is keeping you from fully enjoying this day that God has given you?  Are worries about the future stealing your joy of the present?  You can trust Him to care for your daily needs.  Relax and follow the example of the turkeys – enjoy THIS day that He has given you!

“So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” Matthew 6:34, NLT

Going Vertical!

MJ

*Hutto, Joe. Illumination in the Flatlands. The Lyons Press: Guilford, Connecticut, 1995.

*My Life As a Turkey, © 2011 THIRTEEN and Passion Pictures (http://www.pbs.org/wnet/nature/episodes/my-life-as-a-turkey/introduction/7268/)