God’s Answers: Marcella & Jorge

Thank you to all who bring our baby Church at Park Lane before the only God who hears and answers. Here’s one quick example of how God is hearing and answering prayers…

Jorge, a new believer at Park Lane church, had been praying that God would arrange for him to take his first vacation in 2 years. God answered by having him lose his job a few weeks ago. He and his family were over at Matt and Nathan’s apartment when he got the call, and there were many tears. Tears of sadness and tears of fear. In light of the awful job market here, it was easy to understand why they were suffocating beneath a blanket of fear. I felt afraid for them too. When you’re already scraping to get by, a job loss could easily lead to homelessness. After praying together, Jorge explained to me with a tear stained smile that this wasn’t the vacation he had in mind.

Over the next days we got to pray together a lot and have conversations about God being in complete control and completely loving us, even when hard things happened. We talked about how following God doesn’t always mean that the road gets easier.  We prayed a lot for peace and trust with God’s plan as well as purpose and courage during the waiting.

At the time of the job loss, Marcella and Jorge were living in an apartment complex that is way nicer than Park Lane. They were planning on renewing their lease, but with Jorge’s job loss they felt they needed to move into Park Lane where the rent is a lot cheaper. They had felt God directing them this way since soon after they came forward at the revival, but Jorge told me they didn’t out of fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of jumping off their standard of living high dive, fear for the spiritual and physical safety of their family, and fear of roaches and rats. Satan of course played on all of their fears to keep them from moving forward, but they persevered. With a little push from above the faith to obey they moved in a couple doors down from Nathan and Matt.

Shortly after they moved in Jorge told me, “I guess I needed God to send a big fish to swallow me and spit me out here, but I’m glad He did.” The next day, after a few weeks of time off with his family, and after he got moved in and settled, he got a call from an old friend that offered him a better job than he had before. He started his new job a few days ago and loves it.

Watching their faith grow through their childlike obedience and God’s clear demonstration of His sovereignty and love has helped our faith to grow too. Please keep Marcella, Jorge, and their two children Emily and Matias in your prayers as they continue to grow in their faith.

Actually…

I don’t know if you’ve ever heard the sound of an angry mob, but there’s a distinct sound. It’s kind of like the crowd noise at a football game, but a lot darker and angrier. You’ve heard it once, you carry it with you somehow and can quickly recognize it the next time. Well I was lying in bed last week and I heard the angry mob sound outside my ground level window. It’s one of those sounds that makes the hair on your neck stand up as the adrenaline surges and your body braces, all before your mind even comes around to processing what’s going on. It’s kind of like the times when I’ve heard gun shots outside my window and without thinking roll off my bed onto the floor.

Well once my mind caught up, I peered through the blinds to see what looked like a scene out of one of those pro wrestling brawls where all the guys are fighting each other at the same time. It took a second before I realized that this was a real deal rumble and it didn’t take long after that for it to click that I was witnessing the party we’d all been at earlier in the club house gone south. The racial tension was thick when we were there earlier, kind of like a storm you feel brewing before it’s even on the horizon. Mix in some alcohol and the dark and you’ve got a recipe for the old fashioned drunken brawl I was watching through my bedroom window. I could see men, women and people too young to even be watching the fight let alone participating, all swinging away to the tune of screaming and yelling. Instead of running outside or calling the police though I didn’t do anything. I just stood there saltified like Lot’s wife.

As I stood there staring into this writhing mass of brokenness, my fear turned into overwhelming discouragement. As I crawled back into bed, several familiar questions crawled in with me,

“Why are you even here?”

“How is this any place to raise a family?”

“Is this the kind of difference you were hoping to make?”

I’m telling you, it was a dark night. Like the kind of lingering dark that wakes up with you the next morning. To be honest, this drowning discouragement isn’t a stranger. We sleep together more regularly than I’d care to admit. There’s something attractive about wallowing in it on the front end, but it always leaves me feeling dirty, worthless, and infected with despair.

It’s maybe how Elisha’s servant felt in 2 Kings 6 when he went out one morning and sees that he and Elisha are surrounded by enemy warriors. It was no mirage, they were actually surrounded, and the enemy army actually wanted to kill them. The reality of what the servant’s eyes see pulls him straight under, and who’d blame him, right? I mean, nobody is going to tell this guy that’s about to be killed to chill. Well, except Elisha, who actually had faith. He’s actually put his hope in what he can’t see. Elisha casually asks God to, “Open his eyes so he can see,” and as God opens his natural eyes to see the supernatural army of God riding around them in flaming chariots, the servant suddenly gets it.

You have no idea how badly I want to see life with eternal eyes like Elisha. To be able to calmly stare down an impossibly huge army and either see flaming chariots or a ticket to eternity with God… and to be completely at peace with that option. To be led by God Himself instead of by a fear of loss, or pain, or discomfort… I dream about consistently living this kind of life, but too often I wake up to find myself with the servant’s eyes, dragged under the waves like Peter on the water at the sight of the storm that was raging around him.

I’ve been thinking about Elisha a lot lately. How’d the guy just have faith like that? It’s been encouraging for me to be reminded that Elisha didn’t just wake up one day with a sweet set of eternal eyes. It seems like he grew into it by the choices he made. Like when Elijah came to his house and invited him to come follow him, Elisha chose to literally burn his life savings and future earning potential by setting his plow on fire and killing his 12 yoke of oxen. He then chose to be discipled by Elijah and to submit to his authority. Then after his mentor Elijah left him in a blaze of flaming chariot glory, he consistently chose to say yes to God’s calling on his life, even when following God must’ve looked dangerously irresponsible.

So Elisha didn’t choose the path God had for him, or what happened to him on the path, but he did choose to get in the car and let God drive him down whatever path God felt like driving him down. No loopholes, safety nets, or singing with his fingers buried in his ears, just unwavering surrender and obedience that was fueled by actual faith in God.

I’ve found that I’m great with the whole following God part, until his plans involve the death of my plans and the road He wants to lead me down actually involves faith. It’s in moments like these that I come face to face with what I actually believe about God. Not what Moody Bible Institute, my parents, my church, or the Mission believes, but what I actually believe about God.

Is He actually all-powerful, all-knowing, all-loving… or isn’t He? Is He actually trustworthy, and not in some kind of ideological cliché kind of way, but can I really actually trust Him with every part of my life? All my money, my time, my energy, my gifts, my future, my kids… Is God actually enough for me? Is His plan actually better than mine? When He and I disagree, who is right? What if His plan involves death, like the plan He had for His own son?

If God put these questions on a written test I could ace it no problem, but what about a life test? That’s going to be the test that’s graded in the end, right? Not just what I knew, but how I lived in light of what I knew. When that moment in time comes for me when my faith becomes sight, and I actually stand before King Jesus, He’s not going to be asking me if I knew what the great commission and the greatest commandment were. I have a feeling though that we will absolutely be talking about what I did or didn’t do with them. It’s embarrassing how wide the chasm still is between my walk-answers and my talk-answers. Sometimes I wonder if the reason I still struggle so much with the life test is because I still think I’m good enough, smart enough or whatever enough to live out the correct answers on my own.

I could be wrong, but I’m slowly coming to realize that the all important first question on God’s life test has little to do with how I live, but rather how I die. When I’m realizing that I’m not good enough, smart enough, brave enough or anything else enough to pass the life test, I’m getting the first question on the test right. When I lose my life for His sake and surrender all of me to God, I can’t fail because He can’t fail. Elisha wasn’t the mightiest man of his day, he was the weakest man of his day, who yielded his life to the one and only almighty God.

So when I come face to face with the pharisees and the prostitutes, the impossibly huge evil army and those they’ve surrounded, the divorcers and the divorcees, the abusive parents and the abused children, and even the angry mob that’s brawling outside my bedroom window, I can rest and find courage in knowing that God Himself gets to pass the test. I just need to let Him. If He chooses to use me, that’s His call, but either way, the resources and the results are actually in His hands, and I can experience courage when I’m discouraged and scared, hope when it’s raining despair and hopelessness, joy in the midst of sorrow, peace when everything is falling apart, and love for the most unlovable... actually.

My Rosorn Summer…

So a couple of weeks ago we had our official last event of the summer. We took some youth to and led worship for this back to school youth rally thing. When it was over, we took some pizzas back to Park Lane for eating and discussion with our youth. After discussing the rally thing, we each shared our thorn and rose from the summer. With the rose being the best part of our summer and the thorn being the worst part of our summer. (I bet that was probably already obvious for you, but just in case it wasn’t obvious for you, I included an explanation of the whole thorn/rose metaphor.)

Anyway, after thinking about it for a while, I concluded that my rose was also my thorn. My high was also my low, the best part was the worst part, the peak was also the valley, ok, you get it…

So my summer roseorn was seeing this dream I talked about in my last post born.

It reminds me, at least a little bit, of the births of all my children. The whole process of childbirth was magical and beyond beautiful, but it was also really non-beautiful too. In addition to the pain associated with watching someone you love deeply in agonizing pain, pretty much everything that came out of that wasn’t baby was super gross. All the pain and grossness made the baby finally arriving that much more more beautiful.

I think sometimes the most beautiful roses are the ones with the biggest thorns. Think of Jesus. What if halfway through getting beat up, He throws off the Roman centurions and screams out, “Victory”. We’d all probably be like, “You go Jesus”, but we wouldn’t have that fall-on-our-faces in reverence, awe, and respect that we feel when we process the power and love required to endure all that torture, to willingly die and then to raise Himself from the grave. That’s bring-a-tear-to-your-eye beautiful.

And that was the cyclical pattern of my roseorn summer. Torture, followed by death, followed by resurrection. Instead of a crown of thorns and a cross, I was tortured by w a y weaker stuff. Stuff like having our door being knocked on 20-30 times a day, usually when I was in the middle of something or late at night when I was asleep. I’ve never been one of those people that are cool with minimal sleep and who long to be working frantically all the time, so doing ministry from before sunup till after sun went to sleep felt like torture sometimes. Not only because I felt tired, but also because I saw less of my wife and kids this summer than ever before. I’m a hermit at heart, so there were times when it felt like torture to have very little personal space or opportunities to be alone, still, or quiet. It was torture for my feeble haystack of a brain to constantly have to be keeping track of handfuls of needle-like details, especially with people always around to watch me lose them. Did I mention that I hate to fail publicly? It was also torture to watch people I love fall prey to satan’s deceptive and destructive lies and then to not be able to talk them out of it. It was torture to have to trust God to provide for three times our pre-summer expenses without any income. Oh, and then there was also regularly having our stuff get stolen, or vandalized. Pour over all of that the heat that felt like an outfit made out of molten lava that I got to put on every time I stepped outside. That stinking lava outfit made everything harder and more uncomfortable.

So instead of a cross or a whip or the sin of the entire world, I was reluctantly and yet effectively brought to the end of myself by all these “thorns”. They acted like cinder-blocks that would keep getting added to my backpack until I couldn’t take it any more, and then I’d collapse with a crunch like a tin can with a fridge delicately placed upon it. I’d often ask the Lord, “What about how You said Your yoke was supposed to be easy and Your burden was supposed to be light? Because this feels like anything but light and easy.” I’ve never come to this place of crushedness so stinking frequently in a season.

It was in these desperate moments of despair as I lay crushed, crying on the floor with no more strength, no more fight left in me, these uncomfortable, yet life giving words of Jesus would pass through my mind like a broken ammonia capsule under my nose…

“Yet not my will, but Yours be done.” “For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.”

“If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.”

“Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.”

…and then like those dead people jolted to life by those shocker paddle things, my eyes would snap open and I’d suck down a deep life giving breath. I’d be standing there like a new tin can with the fridge still sitting on my head, and the lava outfit on and the thorns still puncturing me every which way. Then it would slowly dawn on me that it wasn’t me holding up the fridge, or weathering the thorn storm, it was Him, and not in some kind of cheese-ball devotional cliché kind of way, but in a real, take my breath away kind of way. It wasn’t always as dramatic as all that. In fact, often times I’d just smile, wipe the sweat from my brow and in His strength lean into whatever thorns had just brought me to the end of me.

The thorny pain involved with regularly picking up my cross and dying on it made the experience of Jesus carrying my cross, and giving birth to life in me, that much more breathtakingly rosy. I feel like I’m standing here at the end of this summer season, looking at what He has given birth to in my life and in this community, and it makes me want to laugh and cry and praise the One that paid my debt and raised this life up from the grave all at the same time. It also makes me want to lean into learning how to die well so that I might live well.

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For the record, this summer being as full as it was, I spent all of my limited writing resources on prayer/praise email updates. If you aren’t on the list and would like to be, feel free to shoot me an email me at taussigs@hotmail.com.

What Would Happen…?

Over the past few weeks I feel like a significant ministry chapter has been completed and a new one begun. About three years ago, I felt this strong calling to follow the example of Jesus and live among a community of disciples whose burning passion and purpose was loving Jesus and sharing His Gospel with the hurting and broken people that we were to live among. God faithfully provided the evangelism piece as soon as we got to Arlington, and a month ago, brought us to live among the people we’ve felt called to bring the Gospel to.

It wasn’t until just recently though, with the arrival of Matt Wenger, Nathan Schad, James White, Josh Munyan and Molly Brittain, that God provided the last piece of the calling puzzle- a community of disciples whose burning passion and purpose is loving Jesus and sharing His Gospel with the hurting and broken people that we lived among. All of them but Molly (she sleeps somewhere else) moved in across the parking lot from us. It has literally been a dream come true and seeing them used by God so mightily among the marginalized has left me pinching myself pretty regularly.

It’s all left me thinking back quite a bit on when the whole “conversation” between God and I first started. It was the fall of 2006 at an event called The Altar. It was a youth group event that looked like a weekend of camping and connecting with God. It was a citywide youth deal, and I was going alone because none of our youth wanted to come. That was ok though because then it could just be the Lord and me.

Anyway, I remember coming into the weekend pretty encouraged. After 7 years of youth ministry, things were pretty stable and actually going really well. The morning after a long sleepless night (due to the noisy male deer that apparently weren’t very excited about a human being all up in their turf) I remember sitting on a log by a stream in the cool of the morning. As I sat there, a question was planted in my brain that I have spent the past 3 years trying to answer…

…What would happen if someone did ministry like Jesus did ministry?

For instance, when Jesus commanded, “Go and make disciples,” I wondered, “What if someone actually made disciples the way that Jesus did it?” You know, instead of the regular, grab a couple people for a few hours a week, type of discipleship that I’d been doing, I wondered what would happen if it was a 24/7 community of discipleship?

I also wondered what would happen if someone not only obeyed Jesus’ command to “Go and preach the Gospel,” but actually preached the Gospel the way Jesus did? Instead of hiding in the safety of a church, preaching to the already saved, like I’d been doing, I wondered, “What would happen if a band of “doctors” went out like Jesus and the disciples did, and brought healing to those that were desperately in need?”

I also remember thinking about how Jesus didn’t just love people from Heaven, but how He left everything and came down to live among the people He was loving. I remembered wondering what would happen if this discipleship and evangelism was being done by people that were living among the people that they were loving? Instead of doing drive-bys with the Gospel, like I’d been doing, what if someone actually parked the Gospel right in the middle of the place where the people in need were living?

I remember thinking that Jesus probably had a pretty good idea about what an effective ministry might look like, being God’s Son and all, and wondered why no one I ever knew was doing ministry like He did. I knew lots of people with effective ministries, who were successfully doing things like discipleship, evangelism and community but the methods for doing these things didn’t seem to be the same as when Jesus did them. I remember thinking on that log for a long time and concluded that it would be pretty awesome for the person that tried to figure out the answer to that question with their life, so long as they stayed as connected to the Father as Jesus did.

So anyway, I’d been to this Altar event several times previously and at this point in the weekend I would usually end up asking (begging) God to set me free from the stress and pressure of youth ministry. His answer had always been a resounding, “No, not now.” This is why it caught me off guard when there on the log I felt like He invited me to take His hand and let Him answer this question that was now burning in my mind with my life.

I remember thinking, “No way. Now? How? Things are finally going so well. I was just wondering God, not asking…” I even tried to make a deal with Him there on the shore of the stream. I told Him that a big ask like that needed a big sign to validate it. Because really, how can I step away from everything I know without some loud sign, right?

Ok, so this is embarrassing, but there on the creek bank, I saw a butterfly and I decided that if that butterfly would land on me, that this would be the only sign I’d ever need or ask for. God can tell bugs what to do, right? So I stood there, and stood there some more, while this butterfly flew in circles around me. Getting ridiculously close and then flitting away. I even tried blocking the sunlight it was using to warm it’s wings with my hand so that it’d move. This went on for a really long time (I’m embarrassed to say how long) and then after a while I thought that maybe this was a test of my patience, so I waited even longer. Still no miraculous butterfly landing. Then, like a boot in my eye, Hebrews 11:1 came into contact with my soul…

“Now faith is being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you do NOT see”.

I remember thinking, “Ok. So, I’m supposed to be ok with just Your hand, that I can’t even see by the way? The only answer I remember getting for the rest of the weekend was Hebrews 11:1. Most of the rest of the weekend I remember wrestling with how to tell people about this new “calling” that I hadn’t really gotten. It wasn’t like I heard a voice speaking forth from a burning log, or had a miraculous butterfly land on me or anything clear like that. The internal wrestling got more intense though, so a few months later, I went on a 40 day date with God in hopes of getting further clarity. To my frustration, God was profoundly silent on the subject. I remember on the last day of that trip, while sitting on top of an inner-city park pavilion in a puddle of mixed emotions, I decided that sign or no sign, I needed to step down from youth ministry and pursue this invitation into the unknown. Shortly after coming to this conclusion, a beautiful butterfly landed on my hand. It just sat there opening and closing it’s beautiful wings while I cried like a school girl.

It’s been a long three years trying to hold on to His hand through the desert. He always seems to be leading me into places that aren’t on my itinerary; places where I don’t feel in control or safe. Just as soon as I get settled down and comfortable, He’s wanted to pack up and move forward. I still let go of His hand, a lot. Looking back though, He’s been so faithful even when I haven’t been, and by His power He’s carried us to where we are.

So, what will happen here? I have no clue, but I’m really excited about this next chapter.

Wanna Trade…

A couple days ago I brought our kids three used serviceless cell phones that came into the mission. Immediately they began discussing, quite passionately, who’d get which phone. Lydia was sleeping at the time so they decided, she’d get Caleb’s old broken phone, because, “She’s too young to need technology”. I’m thinking, “Guys, they’re all junky, just pick one”. Well, this went on and on, and even started getting heated so instead of solving the problem for them, I left them to fight over their worthless treasures.

After a bit, Titus walked out of the room with one of the phones. He was quiet for a bit and just stood there staring at his phone. As I was trying to figure out what was going on in his head, he looked at me with a forced smile, that was betrayed by a tear running down his cheek, and said “Hey dad, look at the phone I got”. I was confused until I noticed that he was holding the lamest of the three phones. So I asked him, “Why’d you pick the junkiest phone? Did they make you”?

“They didn’t make me dad… I wanted them to have the good ones”.

I only kind of believed him, so I went marching in to make sure that the two olders hadn’t just force fed him the lemon. As soon as they saw me, the frantic hand waving and the passionate explanations began, “Dad, dad, no, seriously, dad, he kept saying he wanted it. We even kept asking him ‘Why’, and ‘Are you sure’, and “Are you crazy” but he kept saying he wanted it”.

I stood there in disbelief for a second, processing what I’d just seen. My son just chose the eternal treasure of selflessness, over the empty treasure of selfishness.

Immediately I knew what I had to do. I went running to my closet and took down this serviceless smart-phone I’d gotten from the mission. It’s actually pretty cool and is fully loaded with a touch screen, mp3 player, video camera, paint program and more. I handed it to Titus and said, “Wanna trade”?

Everyone was silent for a second, but then as everyone slowly pieced together what was happening and why, and Titus reached up to make the trade, the room burst into cheering. It was like something off of the Hallmark channel.

We celebrated our one year anniversary at Mission Arlington this past weekend by finally moving into our Park Lane apartment. It was an awesome time of reliving the ups and downs and retelling and remembering the goodness, faithfulness, love and power God showered on us this past year. Our journey this past year kind of mirrored the experience Titus had with the phones….

There was the initial period of forced smiles betrayed by all the tears as we said goodbye. Knowing that obedience is best, but at the same time mourning over being separated from loved ones, and all the nice stuff we’d built our lives on, all without any promise of something better.

There were all the tough conversations with people that wanted to know, “’Why?”, and “Are you sure?”, and “Are you crazy?” . I never quite figured out how to answer questions like, “How do you know it’s His will?” and, “What’ll you do if they rape your wife or kill one of your kids?”. I hadn’t heard God audibly speak to me at the time, and still haven’t, so there were all the sleepless nights filled with prayerful tears spent crying out to God for crystal clarity, a guarantee of safety and unshakable confidence, none of which ever came.

Over the past year, the insecurities, sadness and fear slowly melted away and revealed this confidence, courage and hope that didn’t originate with us or our circumstances. This year hasn’t been comfortable, easy or relaxing, and we still hugely miss loved ones, personal space, and sleep. We still haven’t met our new Niece, Noel, or my sister Sarah’s new fiance, and that’s been hard. While on one hand, it’s been a struggle to give up many of the things we love, on the other hand though, we’ve never felt more fulfilled, alive and blessed. Blessed like spoiled children that’ve traded up and been given way more than they deserve. Maybe that’s boasting, but if it is, it’s boasting in Him and what He has done.

To God be the glory, great things You have done,
To trade my lame life for the blood of Your Son.
To fill up my cup till I drown in Your love,
How can I say thank You? No words are enough.

A Masterpiece & A Sonogram…

Over Spring Break 2009, 14 of Westbrooke Church’s finest descended upon the armpit of Arlington, Texas. Their mission was to be poured out like a drink offering to further Christ’s Kingdom. It wasn’t comfortable, it wasn’t clean, it wasn’t easy, safe or relaxing, but it was absolutely beautiful. Jesus painted a spectacular masterpiece here with their lives.

God also used their visit to give us a beautiful sonogram of a couple of almost born dreams that have been in the oven for a few years now- the dream to do full time discipleship and the dream to do it in the context of a full time community. What we experienced while living with the team, while they lived among the people God sent them to love, was a powerful confirmation of the path we’re on. It was also a validating and exciting foretaste of what’s ahead for us on a level that I can’t come up with words to describe.

Thank you for laboring with us in prayer ∞. 

The Calvary’s Coming…

Tomorrow between 3 and 4pm a group of 14 people from Westbrooke will be arriving in Arlington for a week of ministry at Park Lane. They’re going to be living in the apartment we’re going to be moving into at Park Lane. The apartment still has boards for windows, no electricity, and no water. Hello, and welcome to our little 3rd world country. This was all supposed to be ready by now, so this has been an exercise in trust for sure. I keep telling myself that God’s plans and God’s timing are ALWAYS best.

In the mornings we will be doing a variety of activities (visiting with folks, work projects, furniture and food delivery ect.). In the afternoons we will be doing Rainbow Express (VBS), and then in the evenings we’ll be grilling for the neighborhood and hanging out with the people.

We’re super excited to see how God will work this week. While living on property for the week will have many temporal disadvantages, we believe it will have many eternal advantages, and we’re confident that the Lord will provide many opportunities to know Him better and to make Him known.

I’ve come to expect that any time there’s opportunity for God’s Kingdom to expand there will be resistance from the enemy. We’ve felt it already to the point where lately we’ve been laughing about it. Not because it’s funny, but because it’s just so shamelessly obvious. The battle is real and I believe that prayer plays a key role in the outcome. This is why we need as much prayer as you can spare….

Regarding things to pray about… things that come to mind are unity, power, humility, brokenness, healing, strength, courage, salvation, boldness, flexibility, trust, patience, peace, love and compassion.

Here are the names of those on the team. Please pray for them, often.

- James White
- Sarah Todd
- Beka Todd
- Nancy Todd
- Dave Todd
- Michael Price
- Brian Price
- Ethan Price
- Sharon Price
- Matt Wenger
- Tom Willhite
- Dean Tomlinson
- Rachel Rice
- Nathan Schad

Thanks for joining us in this!

Wilderness Lessons 106 & 107…

Interesting how these wilderness lessons from a few years ago found me on a sermon binge over the past week and a half.  Nothing wrong with a good sermon, in fact, God has used many sermons to speak to my heart, but there is absolutely something wrong with being too lazy to connect with my Creator and to eat and digest His Word for myself. I get into trouble when a routine of being spoon fed someone else’s regurgitated thoughts about Jesus replaces being with Jesus.

So lesson 107 was originally recorded by my 8 year old maturity level. Needless to say it caught me off guard today when I realized what a graphically accurate picture it painted of my spiritual life. When I ditch my diet of Him and His Word, and start depending on other people I don’t even know to prepare and serve me my spiritual meals, I’m headed for a heap of trouble.

“Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear and come to me; hear me, that your soul may live. I will make an everlasting covenant with you, my faithful love promised to David.

-Isaiah 55:1-3

Dream Developments…

I remember when Hannah and I first heard about Mission Arlington. There was this initial overwhelming excitement as we realized that God had conceived a dream in our hearts. It’s all we could think about, it’s all we could talk about.

Then there was the next season of being pregnant with the dream and carrying it to term. There was still tons of excitement, but there was also some heaviness and discomfort that grew as the gravity of the dream grew.

Then there was the whole giving birth part. Wow. Labor is very nonpleasant, but the pain is quickly buried beneath a big bundle of joy when the dream is actually born.

So I feel like we’re somewhere in the second trimester or so of being pregnant with this dream to live among the people we’ve been called to love. We’re super excited, and feel the hand of God moving things along, but at the same time, there’s still a lot that needs to be done before the dream becomes reality and it’s hard to be patient.

The latest dream developments…

Last week Park Lane experienced a regime change in the office and maintenance departments, so professional work on the apartment has temporarily been put on hold while the dust settles. That hasn’t stopped work on the apartment by the Park Lane people and the Mission though.

There is still no electricity, water, or appliances, but with the help of volunteers from the mission and the neighborhood (one day we had close to 40 Park Lane people helping) the entire apartment has been painted, all the holes in the walls and ceilings have been patched and much of the 5 layers of linoleum flooring has been scraped up. It has been amazing watching everything coming together and changing for the better.

Just last week Lydia and I found a fancy pants front door at the Mission that someone brought in. It fits perfectly and will replace the plank of plywood we’ve been using. We just need to paint the door black and to get the door frame fixed and then we’ll be golden. Praise God for His perfect provision.

Anyway, just wanted to give an update on things. Thanks to everyone that’s been faithfully praying for us. We feel it like a strong wind at our backs, pushing us on.

Wilderness Lesson 104 & 105…

A couple of pointless and completely depthless lighter “lessons” from the wilderness portion of my 40 day date with God.