Why don't I really believe it?

"We need only to recognize God intimately present with us and address ourselves to Him every moment. We need to beg His assistance for knowing His will in things doubtful and for rightly performing those which we plainly see He requires of us, offering them to Him before we do them, and giving Him thanks when we have completed them."

It sounds so simple, yet has proved so difficult. I can't even seem to form the habit of giving thanks after a meal (which my husband has told me was once customary in addition to blessing the food beforehand), much less seeking Him every moment. The psalms about seeking God passionately always (like 27 and 63) always spoke so deeply and beautifully to me ... but do I do it? So little.

"Brother Lawrence said we ought, once and for all, heartily put our whole trust in God, and make a total surrender of ourselves to Him, secure that He would not deceive us."

How many times have I tried to do so? Many times in my teens and college years. But not so much lately. Why? How is it I've become a bit spiritually cynical, unconvinced that ever I will be able to claim, "We ought not weary of doing little things for the love of God, who regards not the greatness of the work, but the love with which it is performed. We should not wonder if, in the beginning, we often failed in our endeavors, but that at last we should gain a habit which will naturally produce its acts in us without our care and to our exceeding great delight"? I act as if I don't believe that. Why? Was it the times I found God not to be who I wanted Him to be, the times He stretched me where I was secure, even tore down my whole box of understanding? Probably not that in itself ... I was grateful to learn, however uncomfortably. But perhaps it is that I have not since been satisfied with way to understand Him, His work in the world, and myself. Finding fault everywhere, do I now find Him nowhere?

Lord, how do I escape this trap, this pride, and learn to look with love instead? Let me consider all as having the advantage over me, seek what of You I may see in all things and all Christians which I have not myself, and delight to love, rather than to find fault.

Practicing our own discipleship: Business and love

"Brother Lawrence often experienced the ready succors of Divine Grace. And because of his experience of grace, when he had business to do, he did not think of it beforehand. When it was time to do it, he found in God, as in a clear mirror, all that was fit for him to do. When outward business diverted him a little from the thought of God a fresh remembrance coming from God invested his soul and so inflamed and transported him that it was difficult for him to contain himself. He said he was more united to God in his outward employments than when he left them for devotion in retirement."

How good it would be to find this grace. I am far more prone to be like Martha, worried and anxious about many things for my pride's sake. I call it responsibility, but if I were doing it out of love, I would see these things as gifts to be seen with gratefulness, opportunities to joyfully express my love. But instead I stress because if I don't get them done, it's a shame. Perhaps this is the good in the scatterbrained state I've been ever since having my baby, to make me realize how much I need to seek this grace to find what I need to do in God ... ha, and maybe the grace in God to do it right the first time, considering how often tasks turn out to be far more difficult than expected!

Perhaps that's even part of the reason I haven't ended up in Africa long-term. Maybe I've come out needing to learn of God more in the ordinary life than overseas where I would put it all in the context of "the mission" rather than a purer love that is content to do the same task in either place. Lord, teach and guide me still, to learn to love You with all my heart and in all I do.

Practicing our own discipleship: The faith to abide

"Knowing only by the light of faith that God was present, he contented himself with directing all his actions to Him. He did everything with a desire to please Him and let what would come of it."

Seriously? Is it just faith that keeps up an awareness of God's presence? I guess it makes sense if we remember that, as Kay Arthur taught me, "Faith is not mere intellectual acknowledgement. It is reliance." I acknowledge that God is ever present with me, but I am not relying on Him. Or, as Jesus put it, I need to abide in Him (John 15).

Lord, all that leaves me with then is to ask You to extend my faith, that I may indeed abide in You not just in spurts, but moment by moment. Show me where my weaknesses are, what hinders me from that kind of faith.

Practicing our own discipleship: Cursed creation made new

Part of our training for anyone serious about long-term work with TEN3, whether as a teacher, administrator, or writer, is to read through Imitation of Christ and The Practice of the Presence of God. I read both soon after I joined TEN3. Imitation of Christ spoke very strongly to me, because I was in a situation (not related to TEN3) in which I was being very frequently rebuked and criticized, and was not used to that at all. Imitation taught me to take the rebukes graciously and learn some meekness through them, which was clearly what God wanted to teach me at the time. But I don't remember The Practice at all. I think it's time I revisit it. It has dawned on me I don't quite know how to live God's joy when life is, well, ordinary, and especially when I'm not excelling. I'm used to meeting whatever challenge is set before me, and doing it all with excellence, and instead I find myself in a messy house, behind on my thank-you cards, forgetting my meetings, and fretting about finances. It's time I learned from this man who found God in dishwashing. So here's my first gleaning. Perhaps you'll join me in this spiritual journey. If so, you can find his book available for free here.

Conversation 1

"During that winter, upon seeing a tree stripped of its leaves and considering that within a little time the leaves would be renewed and after that the flowers and fruit appear, Brother Lawrence received a high view of the Providence and Power of God which has never since been effaced from his soul."

Well, there's plenty to be convicted of right there. When is the last time I looked at God's wonderful works for what they are that they might impact me like that? So I prayed to see God's work in something around me, and had to look no further than on my bosom at my son. A few weeks ago we took the hour's trip to visit my grandmother in the nursing home and introduce him as her first by-blood great-grandchild. I broke down crying silently in her room because, though she did respond a little to my voice, she was too ravaged by dementia to open her eyes. It broke my heart to think that she started her life as healthy, hopeful, and nurtured as my little Nathanael, and is reduced to this, immobile, every breath a groan, scarcely able to put four words together. But today, looking down at my baby reminded me that God is making all things new. My grandmother will rise again, and with Christ's life she may be as vibrant and hopeful as a laughing baby. What a gift indeed Christ has given us to hope for, life so new and vibrant, never to fade again, but retaining also our hard-won maturity! What a beautiful victory Christ has won for us, that all the curse of sin--aging, death, want, strife--will be undone, and all that remains will be life full of both exuberance and wisdom, love both childlike and purified, joy both fresh and adamantine.

At our weakest point

"When I looked at your personality profile, I thought, 'What is this guy doing as the leader of this team? He doesn't have the right characteristics at all,'" a team consultant told Anthony years ago. "But then as I learned about your team members and what they have been through, I understood. They would struggle under a typical leader. But your gift set is just what they need."

We are indeed quite a team of odd ducks, trusting God to use us in our the strengths and great weaknesses He has given us. There is so much about our mission that is strong: our thoroughly reviewed strategy, our well-researched model, the many decades of experience our team members have brought to the table, our training that has lit up so many faces. But we've also pushed forward in the face of a lot that doesn't make sense.

Like, nearly a year ago, when Anthony prayed and sensed God telling him that it's time to move container-loads of equipment to Africa. And mind you, a container is about 560 cubic feet. Anthony's first thought was the same thought he had when he was first asked to start the best computer school in Nigeria, and again when he was asked to help it develop a bachelor's degree: "That's crazy!" This time, the leading seemed crazy because the few centers we have started struggle to recruit students. People want a quick and easy piece of paper, and that's not what we offer. Our prayer is, once we get students through who can show they know their stuff better than all those who got the easy piece of paper, our programs will have value; but for now, what sense did it make to send equipment to start more centers?

The answer our team got was that it did make sense when we consider that we're about discipling educators who will then be able to make whatever education their communities need. We have all the training material we need for that. We have a delivery platform via Moodle. If we can get people discipled and committed to transformational education with this, we can finally see our vision take off.

My reaction was also, "You're crazy," but for a different reason: "Um, Anthony, need I remind you that we stink at fundraising?" No, seriously, we have got to be in the running for the world's worst nonprofit when it comes to getting money. When Anthony was first asked to start the school in Jos in the 1980s, he tried to raise $30,000 for a computer lab. What he got was $300 and six ten-year-old computers. And that's pretty much been the story of our ministry ever since. We make plans to raise thousands of dollars for travel, equipment, communication, etc., and then go on doing our ministry with next to nothing. For the most part, we've accepted that if we're expecting our African siblings to build sustainable schools with their own limited resources, our training, and if they're lucky some secondhand laptops, then it's appropriate that the Lord would have us work with great limitations as well.

Is it time now for us to actually succeed in raising thousands of dollars to equip our partners? Going on our track record, it's wishful thinking, but we serve the God who says His power is made perfect in weakness, so let's see what He will do with us at our weakest point.

Shamed by a "scammer"

A colleague recently shared this video series with us. The lesson he learned with others' reactions from it is that sharing the difficulties we tend to skip in our communications (like how hard it can be to send money to Africa) actually engages and impresses people. Someday, we should chronicle better what all we and especially our colleagues in Africa go through, frustrating as it can be at times, for the sake of this ministry.

What I got out of it, though, was a lesson about myself. I am not nearly as saintly as a missionary should be. I learned that because I saw quickly that I would not be nearly as patient as this vlogger. Not for a stranger who messaged me online, anyway. For my colleagues and friends in Africa, heck yeah I've crunched ideas through meetings, phoned my way through logistical pains, taken calls at 3am, advanced and gifted money personally, lugged a dozen laptops through airports and hotels, driven an hour to get papers for a chance for one of their sons to go to college, and more. But if it's somebody new, unconnected with the rest of my life, I usually don't have the patience to find out if I can bless them. I notice that even when my husband and I go to a store together. He strikes up conversations with at least the cashier, and usually about three other people in the store too. I usually assume a conversation with a stranger I'm unlikely to see again is not worth the effort. Kenneth is always thinking that there might be a way he can evangelize or just bless the people he meets in some way. I guess the number of times I've poured so much into a possibility of helping people and seen the plans fizzle has made me want to hedge my bets on whom I invest in.

Which is quite ironic since I once presented my ministry to a church with the theme, "Invest in the lost causes." I meant that in one sense because Africa seems so "hopeless," and yet we keep presenting that our vision is for the African Church to rise up and take the lead globally in education and the spread of the Gospel. That was also an unspoken appeal for certain loved ones connected with my audience at that time. I wanted people to invest in those I loved, even though it would seem fruitless. Have I forgotten my own plea? On the other hand I only have so much time, I can't reach everyone int the world. Shouldn't I invest it where I already have obligations, where I know I can make a difference?

How did Jesus do it? He had many disciples He taught over His ministry. He had twelve He particularly spent a lot of time with, prioritizing their learning, sometimes going to a remote place alone with them. He also made time for people who came to him to ask questions or get help. He also stopped and made time for the strangers who hollered or reached across a crowd for His help. And He even reached out to people who wouldn't have initiated conversation with Him (Jn 4:7-9, 5:6). He couldn't have talked with everyone He passed, but He made time for all sorts of people and met their needs. May I learn from Him how to reach out and love those He gives me the opportunity to, when to put in the extra effort on a long shot, and when to focus on my prior commitments.

Contemplations of a new mommy

This time I promise I have a really good reason that I've been on break from my blog, at least for this month. That is, if you consider having a baby to be a good enough reason! Nathanael was born on September 7 at 11:52pm. For those of you who like birth stories, I'll tack it at the bottom of this post, plus a picture (it's a breastfeeding pic, conservative enough my husband had no problem putting it on Facebook, but just in case that would offend anybody, you've been warned). But, first, a thought worth sharing for everyone. Having a child is one of the most transformative experiences God gives us, but so far, there's been one really prominent lesson for me.

Ever since we took our baby home, the MercyMe song "Joseph's Lullaby" has been in my head. What sticks out particularly is the line "This world can wait for one more moment; go and sleep in peace." It's startling to think that the Savior was here, finally physically present in this world to save us from sin, and yet the world still had to wait for Him to eat, sleep, and grow. Yet looking at my little son as he drifts off, it's unthinkable that it should be any other way. To see a baby, so perfectly precious and totally needy, it becomes clear that the world must wait aside for him.

God has worked time after time to teach me not to be "worried and distracted about many things." I'm always wanting to be working, accomplishing, improving. My poor husband can testify that I get cranky with myself, and with him, when things pile up that aren't getting done. So I'd wondered how much crankier I'd be to have a baby constantly needing my time.

I'm not. Because the look of his sweet face tells me, "This is all I have to pay attention to now. Everything else can wait." Perhaps my son will be the one to teach me finally to live by love and not by the demands I place for myself.

The birth details

I had an astonishingly easy pregnancy. Heartburn throughout, some fatigue in the first trimester and last 3 weeks, and swelling feet were the sum total of my woes. I never even felt any Braxton-Hicks contractions until the last two weeks or so, and then they felt just like a mild 15-minute cramp. The 32-week ultrasound put baby's size in the 59th percentile, which was just the sort of number I hoped to see--bigger than the median, but not too big. My original due date was September 10th, but with the first ultrasound, my doctor changed it to September 4th. I was getting plenty of jokes about being due on Labor Day. Well, Labor Day came and I was crampy all day, but had no distinct contractions. I had my regular OB/GYN appointment Tuesday, and she found I was about 3cm dialated and 75% effaced. Cool, if just menstrual-level discomfort makes that kind of progress, I thought, this will be smooth sailing most of the way. Kenneth and I were hoping the baby would come the 7th so that he could stack his vacation time with his regular weekends and get nearly 3 weeks off.

Wednesday, I kept feeling pelvic pressure that would last 30 seconds or so. I kept checking its timing, but it varied greatly; sometimes 30 minutes apart, sometimes as few as 5 minutes. "This can't be labor," I decided, "It's too irregular, and I only feel it at the bottom of my uterus; it's probably just lightening." But it just kept coming, and it was getting stronger as the day wore on. I timed them one more time at 11:15ish that night, and it went 11 minutes, 11 minutes, 12 minutes, 16 minutes ... so I decided to go to bed.

In bed, I found the pressure was increasing, painful enough I couldn't sleep and even found myself shaking when it came. I decided to time it again. 8 minutes, 8 minutes, 8 minutes, 8 minutes, 7 minutes. "I'm in labor," I decided, and got up to finish packing my and Kenneth's's hospital bags. I kept timing the contractions, and when they hit 5 minutes apart, I called Kenneth at work 40 minutes away, asking him to come home and take me to the hospital. By the time we got there, which was about 3:45am, the contractions were 4 minutes apart. I was brought to triage, but the nurses took a long time getting to me because the receptionist could not find my paperwork. I thought surely I was close to active labor, but then it turned out I was only about 4cm, and 80% effaced. They let us walk around outside for an hour or so. There was a nice peaceful strip of sidewalk between sections of the building with bushes and flowers, so we walked down that, and I would lean on Kenneth whenever a contraction would come. When I went back to be monitored, the nurse said she was trying to sort out what she was seeing. I never really heard if she had an analysis or even what confused her, but my doctor came by about 7:30am. I was still only 4cm, but my contractions were still 4 minutes apart or less, so she admitted me.

However, soon after I was settled in my room, I noticed my contractions were coming slower and milder. Periodically through the day I walked the halls, squatted and lunged during contractions, and climbed the unit's 4 flights of stairs. In the early afternoon, since I hadn't slept all night, I sat on the birth ball and leaned against a table, and managed to get a couple hours' sleep that way. When I woke up, my contractions were about 10 minutes apart, and still weak. More walking and climbing to try to speed them up. Cara, my doula, also brought in a breast pump to try to increase my oxytocin.

When Dr. Hook came in and checked me about 6pm, she found my cervix hadn't progressed at all in the 11 hours since she first checked me that morning. My contractions were still 7 minutes apart at best. At that point, she presented two options: I could either go home and wait for active labor, or she could break my water. I was disappointed, and rather uneasy about having my water broken knowing that if that didn't speed up labor, I couldn't leave the hospital and would have to be put on pitocin. But, I hated the idea of having spent nearly 15 hours in the hospital for nothing, and then going home wondering how long it would drag on. So I decided I wanted to get it over with. She broke my water about 6:15; it was showtime! Except it seems my body didn't get the memo; an hour later, my contractions were even slower at 10 minutes apart. So pitocin it had to be. I had heard that labor is quite miserable with pitocin, but at least one mom also told me it's not that bad. Regardless, I was committed at that point. And with those two interventions I had to be kept in bed on monitoring, but at least that was an extremely adjustable bed; we had it basically converted to a chair for me.

By 10ish, contractions were rolling in at less than 3 minutes apart, and strong enough to make me shake all over. Cara instructed Kenneth to put gentle pressure on my shoulders to reduce the shaking and help me relax. For a while we tried a position turned around so I was on my knees leaning over the raised back of the bed, but I found that very uncomfortable, a combination of the effort it took to hold myself up like that and the pressure it put on my hips. I asked if I could sit on the ball instead. The nurses checked, and found I was nearly 8cm dialated. They decided the baby's head was deep enough that it was safe for me to get out of the bed, so I got to sit on the birth ball. That was much more comfortable, but soon the contractions were so frequent and strong, sometimes I got no break between them, and when I did, I needed Cara's coaching to successfully relax, because all I wanted to do was cry. I soon felt the downward pressure during the contractions that Cara told me to expect, but the next phase, constant pressure that becomes tremendous during contractions, wasn't coming. Though I'd had no back labor, Cara began to suspect that baby wasn't quite turned to the optimal position. She recommended I stand and lean over the bed to encourage him to turn. I winced at the idea, because leaning forward had been so uncomfortable before, but I got into position. On the next contraction, he did indeed turn, and let's just say that was the point I lost my composure. But Cara helped me get it back by reminding me this is what was supposed to happen, and Kenneth was all praises that I could do it. On each contraction after, I felt his head coming down. It was probably only four contractions when I said, "It feels like he's really close." The nurses checked and confirmed they could see his head, so that's when the doctor and a couple of aides rushed in. I was allowed to turn over on my side (which is a lot easier than being on the back), with Kenneth holding my leg up. I think it only took three contractions from there. That was the most intense few minutes of my life, of course, but worth it to feel him make his entrance into the world.

I had discussed delayed cord clamping with my doctor and was pleased to know that had been her practice for years, but in our case it turned out to be unnecessary; Kenneth said it shriveled in just seconds. The doctor pronounced the APGAR score 9-9.

I'm really grateful for UMC's practice of putting the baby skin-to-skin immediately with mom. After going through something as intense and incomprehensible as birth, the firs thing a baby needs in the wide, cold world is to with his mommy in the comfort of her arms. I can't say my mind was entirely on my sweet baby until Dr. Hook was done stitching my tear (I was sure she was going to make a mistake because my legs were still shaking so much, which of course she didn't), but I quickly fell in love with this beautiful little baby. He weighed in at 7lbs 10 oz and measured 21". He had deep dark blue eyes that are lightening up gradually, a full head of light-colored hair, which is still intact two weeks later. And he has his father's addiction to snuggling.

I named him Nathanael, first because it means "Gift of God" and I want to thank God for this incredible blessing. There are also several things I appreciate about the Nathanael of the Bible. I have to laugh at his skeptical and frank response to Andrew, "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" I love how Jesus gets his attention simply by revealing that He has always had His eye on him, and how ready Nathanael was to believe in Him for that one reason. It also impressed me that this is probably the only person we know of whom Jesus praises as soon as He meets him. Now, I've heard claims that Jesus was actually being sarcastic there, but it's always struck me as a real compliment, and something I do pray for my son, that he be, "an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no deceit."

Kenneth chose Ignatius as a middle name for Ignatius of Antioch. You can read his story here.

I thank God so much for such a beautiful, sweet, healthy baby for us to love and raise. I thank God for all He will continue to do in our family, and pray we may be loving and true to His Word so that He may have His perfect work in us.