Mountain Biking and Missions

Back in July 2019, my first stop in the States on home assignment was Colorado, where I visited my brother Eli, who lives in another beautiful region of the world, where he is surrounded by mountains instead of jungles. He was excited to introduce me to one of his new hobbies, mountain biking.

That intense adventure with my brother in the Colorado mountains led me to reflect on intense adventures with Jesus in an Amazon village.

A few days after the bike ride, I jotted down some thoughts and analogies, which I will attempt to explain and share in the next couple posts. (I had been in the village right before visiting my brother, so the following reflections are based on experiences which had recently happened there).

For someone who has done quite a bit of road biking over the years, this experience was a first. The unpaved, rocky trails twisted up and down and through the mountains, impossible to predict.

Within the first twenty minutes, I didn’t turn sharply enough for a curve and flew over the handlebars. Losing control and wondering how hard I’d hit the ground was terrifying. Nevertheless, flying through the air, while not very safe, did bring a certain sense of exhilaration. And even from the vantage point of lying in the dirt, spitting some of it out of my mouth, the view of the surrounding mountains was beautiful. Thankfully, I sustained only some bruises, a tiny cut, and a few thorns.

This incident reminded me of a verse that had strengthened my heart on many occasions during the first several months of 2019.

“The steps of a good man are ordered by the LORD: and he delighteth in his way. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down: for the LORD upholdeth him with his hand.”  Psalm 37:23, 24

Many times in the village, when hitting sharp curves or unexpected major bumps in ministry, it felt like I had flown over the handlebars, and was lying bruised on the trail. The unpleasant sensation of tasting gritty dirt in those moments was surpassed by the delight of seeing God’s glory in the surrounding beauty and tasting the rich flavors of grace. Even though I sometimes fell into doubt, discouragement and even fear, the Lord upheld me and I was never utterly cast down.

Can grace ever be more precious than in moments when Jesus picks us up, brushes us off, pulls a thorn out of our knee, and reminds us that He loves us and that with Him as our Guide and Protector, we are more than conquerors?

You see, it doesn’t matter how rough or intense the trail is if the trail guide is fearless and competent.

Eli made the trail look so easy, zipping up and down each incline with grace and skill. Our expedition was his idea. He was the one who planned it and invited me to participate in an adventure that would have been foolhardy to attempt on my own. All I had to do was go along for the ride, confident that Eli knew what he was doing and that we would have a great time together. I felt honored and privileged that Eli included me in this aspect of his life.

Missions is Jesus’ idea. He is the One who is building His church, calling out His Bride from every tribe, language, people, and nation. He laid a plan which started before the foundation of the world and reaches to the ends of the earth. Jesus wants the villagers and the rest of their people to know Him and become His disciples, and He invited me to participate in this part of His mission. What an honor and privilege to be included in what He is doing!

It would be foolish to go to dark places and preach the gospel on our own.

But the expedition narrative changes with Jesus as our Master and Leader, our Trail Guide.

In Jesus alone we find confidence to set out on the winding, rocky path. We journey to jungle villages and other places knowing that the One we follow is completely dependable and worthy of our allegiance. While Jesus doesn’t tell us the details of what will happen as we obey His great commission, He promises that He will be with us always, even unto the end of the world.

We have counted the cost and realized that the joy and delight of relationship with Jesus far surpass the risk and danger of riding with Him. Believing that safety and health and comfort are overrated, we relinquish any perceived rights to these benefits. Moreover, safety and health and comfort are not actually guaranteed to anyone, no matter where a person lives and works.

Just as mountain trail biking isn’t the safest outdoor activity, life on the mission field is not safe. In recent months I’ve realized more profoundly the levels of risk and peril involved in this calling.

This journey has been lonelier and rockier than anticipated, so intense that it has required nearly every ounce of focus and concentration just to stay the course. All I could do was follow hard after Jesus, 40 hours/week of ACL* with my village friends, and just enough cooking and dishwashing and laundry to get by. There was no leftover physical, mental or emotional energy for anything else. So I streamlined routines, simplified life, and cut nonessentials. I stopped blogging, didn’t plan for home assignment, rarely even called family or responded to e-mails. It was survival mode.

(*Acquisition of Culture and Language)

With God’s help, I tried my best to keep my eyes on Jesus and the people He sent me to, and not let anything else waste precious energy and attention. Nevertheless, a few minor crashes occurred, but by the grace of God, no injuries worse than scrapes and non-life-threatening wounds. I’m entering home assignment bruised and weary, yet with a spring in my step and a smile that emanates from a secret, deeper place of joy than I even knew existed a year ago. This is still the best life ever, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Is This Your Jungle?

Three months ago, if you had asked where I would be in June, my answer would have been, “In the jungle!”, with an audible exclamation point in my voice and a visible one on my face.

Due to the pandemic, I have not yet been able to return to the jungle. But would you like to hear some of what God taught me there in the past?

I actually started thinking about this topic before leaving the States. It was a snowy February afternoon in Lewis County and I was off on another adventure to spend time with someone.

As I hopped in the blue car I thanked God once again for dear friends who had lent me their vehicle for the entire eight months of my home assignment. Their generosity made it possible to meet up with financial supporters and other friends, visit my grandparents and run errands, serve in a variety of ministry opportunities, go on adventures with siblings, and arrange speaking engagements without making transportation arrangements for each event.

 

Photos featuring the car that allowed me to drop off Eli at the airport, plan surprise birthday picnics, hike one of the 46 peaks with the whole family, and go to the church building countless times, for services, music practice, studying, playing piano, fellowship, and ministry.

Driving down the road and enjoying the beautiful scenery of pine trees adorned by snow, I realized how much life was about to change in the upcoming transition.

Returning the car to my friends seemed symbolic of letting go of independence and freedom in returning to my village home. Not only would I no longer have a car to drive, there wouldn’t be places to go or a schedule to plan.

In the village, my routine is determined by the plans of my friends. Our outings include going to the gardens and the river and deep into the jungle. Just so you know, those adventures are far more epic than trips to stores or coffeeshops or restaurants.

But one downside is that I can’t organize a daily routine or meet up with people or go on spontaneous adventures whenever I get cabin fever. Absolutely not! Unless my friends are going somewhere and invite me to go along, I am “confined” to the village limits, since it is considered socially unacceptable and dangerous for a woman to go anywhere alone. The one exception is that when school is in session, it is fine for me to walk the 7 minutes up the path to attend classes, as long as I inform someone of these plans.

In the jungle, the number of friends I can see is very limited. Unless there are visitors from other villages, the maximum number of people in the village is 40, but the actual number is often as few as 15.

During my first two years there, there was no internet, thus, no contact with the outside world.

Does that sound like the kind of life you would choose? Well, some of us do! And I am so blessed and grateful that Jesus sent me to the jungle!

The jungle has undeniably been a place of isolation and separation from the life I had known, far removed from the two worlds I abandoned to become part of a third.

Yet it was there, as my friends taught me verbs, tones, sneaky switcharoos, and cultural norms, God taught me a lot about life, community, holiness, and dependency on His Spirit – lessons that I probably never would have slowed down enough to learn in North America.

I quickly learned that I love small and simple. Having less people around and less options available means having more time and focus to invest in relationships with new friends, immersed in their world. In choosing to become “poorer” as far as options and luxury and independence, I found myself richer in many other ways.

Rather than caging me in, the apparent restrictions opened doors to wide spaces of unimaginable freedom. Limitations led to an adventure of depending on Jesus in a deeper way. He taught me more about what it means to abide in Him, to just live, to be who He created and called me to be.

The jungle has changed me forever. More accurately, Jesus has used the jungle as a tool of sanctification and transformation, faithfully continuing the good work He is doing to make me more like Him.

These aren’t jungle photos, but the journey from monarch caterpillar to chrysalis (look closely inside the jar) to butterfly is an unforgettable picture of transformation.

I long for the day I am allowed to go back and learn more from Jesus and from my village friends. It will be wonderful to be reunited with them so we can spend hours together every day, on epic adventures or just sitting on benches, engaged in conversations while swatting away the bugs. It will be wonderful to once again eat granola for breakfast and rice for lunch 7 days a week, with the occasional surprise meat or fruit, without needing to plan a menu or buy groceries for at least 3 months.

Please understand that my love for jungle life and friends does not mean it is always easy to be there. It hurts my heart to be far away from family and miss out on seeing my nephews and nieces grow up. Going for weeks without a hug is harder than I ever imagined. While in the jungle, I long to worship and fellowship in community with other believers in a language I understand. And those are just normal feelings of loss and longing, not to mention out-of-the-ordinary situations.

During occasional times of crisis, it felt like the walls were closing in and I might be crushed. There was no escape or relief from fear and emotional pain that overwhelmed my heart. It was hard to stop thinking about stressful situations that were right there in the village, when I couldn’t even go for a walk by myself.

But Jesus held me fast and kept me from falling. His joy and grace and peace were more than enough.

The positive aspects of jungle living truly outweigh the negative. And in this adventure of walking with Jesus, even the pain and suffering are part of the blessing He gives.  

Now, can I share a secret longing of my heart? For the past four years, I have wished that you, my dear family and friends, could live in the jungle too, at least for a little while.

If only you could spend enough time there to give you a break from your fast-paced, crazy North American lifestyle. I have wished that you could trade all of that for solitude, quiet, peace, fewer commitments, and deeper relationships with fewer people at a time.

I have prayed that Jesus would somehow teach you what He has started to teach me about abiding in Him and just living, finding true joy in Him alone, and genuine delight in having less. I have wished that I could somehow include you in the precious and indescribable experiences He has given me in my jungle world.

And now, all of a sudden, the entire world has changed. Life, as we knew it, has been stripped away for a time. We have been isolated and restricted.

During this unwanted and unexpected transition, can you relate to any aspects of jungle life described above, friends?

Has your world closed in or become smaller in these days? In what ways has your routine been interrupted and your options limited? Maybe all you want is to get out of your house and escape stress and confinement, but you can’t really go anywhere, because it would be dangerous, or socially unacceptable.

Whether it be finances or relationships or opportunities, in some area of life, you probably have less. Maybe you even feel like you are less.

Do you ever feel like you are living in a different culture from the one you knew three months ago? We are so accustomed to having unlimited choices, options, and independence, that it is normal to resist or complain when they are suspended.

Please don’t get me wrong. I never would have prayed or wished for a pandemic or quarantine or lockdown. But I wonder if our loving Heavenly Father, who works all things out for good to those who love Him, might be using this crisis to answer my prayers for you in an unexpected way.

The work Jesus wants to do in our lives normally depends on our response, however. Will you allow Jesus to use this time to renew your heart and mind, transforming you and making you more like Him? What is He saying to you today?

Will you have the courage to make this your time in the jungle?

Even as your heart grieves the real and painful losses you are suffering, will you also look for the blessings and choose to be grateful for the good gifts of the present situation?

By God’s grace, will you sit at Jesus’ feet and learn from Him, asking what He wants to teach you in this time of isolation, cancelled plans, and uncertainty?

Walls and Peace

“Then the same day at evening, being the first day of the week, when the doors were shut where the disciples were assembled for fear of the Jews, came Jesus and stood in the midst, and saith unto them, Peace be unto you. And when he had so said, he showed unto them his hands and his side. Then were the disciples glad, when they saw the Lord.” John 20:19, 20

Jesus had risen from the dead. That’s what Mary Magdalene had told them, anyway. Yet there the disciples were, hiding behind closed doors, afraid.

What would become of them? They had left everything – houses, daily routines, lands, fishing boats, jobs and families to follow this Teacher from Nazareth. But three days ago, He had been crucified. Jesus’ death had put their dreams to death as well – dreams of deliverance and the kingdom of God. It was over. And now that the Jews had killed their Teacher, would they kill the disciples next?

And even if they survived, what were they supposed to do now? After all they had heard and seen and experienced while following Jesus, life could never go back to normal.

Or could it possibly be true? Was Jesus alive? Or was the women’s story simply the nonsense that it seemed?

We might expect the disciples to demonstrate more faith and maturity and spirituality at a time of crisis. They had spent three years doing life with Jesus, after all.

We might expect Jesus to appear to His disciples only after they had pulled themselves together or were emotionally stable. But He didn’t wait for that to happen.

Jesus came to the disciples where they were. Walls and closed doors and fearful disciples don’t stop our Risen Lord.

Jesus stood in their midst and simply said, “Peace be unto you”, or “Peace be with you.” And even before those words came out of Jesus’ mouth, His very presence with the disciples fulfilled His spoken words. Jesus not only gave the disciples peace, as He had promised to do in John 14:27; Jesus is the Prince of peace. Isaiah 9:6

It’s astounding that Jesus never rebuked the disciples. He didn’t say they should have trusted Him more or overcome their fear of the Jews.

He actually addressed their fear without mentioning it, or the external circumstances that caused it.

Neither did Jesus resort to clichés or false hope or warm fuzzy feelings. He never told them that everything would be okay and that life would get back to normal soon. It wouldn’t, you know. There would be persecution and prison and conflict and death.

Instead, Jesus helped them see what they truly needed to know and believe.

He showed them His hands, through which nails had been hammered three days before.

He showed them the wound in His side where the spear had pierced Him.

The wounds were more than proof that this man who suddenly appeared in the room was truly their Teacher and Friend, risen from the dead. Although the disciples didn’t understand everything yet, Those scars were tangible proof of Jesus’ eternal love and absolute power. He had won the victory over sin and death.

This story is not primarily about finding peace in the midst of scary situations, you see. Our deepest need is peace with God. 

For this reason, while we were sinners, enemies of God living in rebellion against Him, Jesus died for us. Romans 5:8-10 The punishment Jesus suffered brought us peace. Isaiah 53:5 The blood He shed on the cross brought us near to God. Ephesians 2:13 Because of what He did on Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday, all who believe in Jesus can be reconciled to God.

That is the Gospel of peace, the rock on which we can build our lives as disciples of Jesus who trust in Him, weathering the crises and fears that come our way. No matter what happens in this world, we know that someday Jesus will make all things new. Revelation 21:3-5

Perhaps we can relate to this story from John in a deeper way than ever before. Most of us are currently staying behind closed doors more than normal, due to a situation that might be causing fear, anxiety, frustration and hard questions, such as the following, among others.

What’s going to happen to us? How many people will die in the coming months? What will life look life after this is all over? Will things go back to normal? Will we still have jobs and ministries and routines to follow? Or is this the end?

Like the disciples, I often fall short of reasonable expectations as far as faith and maturity and spirituality. Crisis doesn’t always bring out the best in me. I say words I shouldn’t or fail to say words that should be said.

March 22 is a textbook example. It even happened to be the first day of the week, the same day Jesus rose again and appeared to His disciples. I was anxious and crying, shut in with fears which had built a wall around my soul. My faith was wavering; I had no idea of how God was working in my life, let alone in the rest of the world.

That night, even though there was not any right or ideal decision, I was so afraid of making a wrong decision, that it was impossible to just get over it, or analyze the situation logically from all angles, or pull myself together. Even while asking Jesus for wisdom and guidance, I was not fully trusting Him.

But you know what? Jesus didn’t wait until I unlocked the doors by reaching a certain level of trust or emotional stability.

Jesus came through the walls of my fear, and stood with me in an unexpected way. His presence did not changed the situation or answer all of the hard and painful questions. Yet Jesus has spoken peace to my heart, calmed my fears, and continues to be my peace. And as I walk with Him, He will help me to trust Him more and become more like Him.

What are your fears or anxieties today, friends? In what way might you be hiding behind closed doors? Please do not be ashamed, even if you are falling apart. Don’t tell yourself that you should be meeting certain expectations of maturity or stronger faith.

Hear the words of Jesus today, as He comes to you in love and resurrection power, in the midst of any fear you might be facing. “Peace be with you.”

Jesus is alive. The Prince of Peace is with us. So let’s stop being afraid –  because of who He is, not because of who we are or because of the circumstances around us. Like the disciples, may we see Jesus and be glad!

A Getaway Plane, a Virus, and Resurrection

At 11:07, near Gate 75, I nearly fall asleep while typing, wondering if there is any point in even trying to capture these thoughts in a meaningful way. It is not only a moment of personal exhaustion but also of worldwide panic. If I don’t concentrate on something, though, I’ll fall asleep and miss what could be one of the last planes leaving for my other home.

It was supposed to be a flight out of Syracuse originally, then JFK. But at the end of a crazy day, I’m in Toronto, because the chances of actually getting back to Brasil from here seemed higher.

It’s only one day sooner than I was supposed to leave, and there is no denying the conviction that I need to get out before the door closes. As wonderful as the past 8 months of home assignment have been, the time has come to leave. Whatever happens in the coming weeks and months, my American home is not the place to wait it out.

After my dad and a friend from church dropped me off, I verified that the flight was still on time, then paused, overwhelmed with gratitude and relief tinged by uncertainty. The normal emotions of saying goodbye and heading off alone were accompanied by slight guilt for leaving a place and people that I love in a time of crisis.

Holding back tears, I wished my phone had enough battery left to watch the video of “Confidence”, the song four friends played and sang as a going-away surprise in church yesterday.

A woman walks down the hall many yards away. From that distance, her red coat looks like the one a friend has been wearing all winter. For a split-second, my heart jumps with a thrill of joy, then falls immediately when I realize that my friend, who I said goodbye to less than 7 hours ago is back in Lowville, and we won’t see each other for three years.

And already I miss her and her family so much that my eyes fill with tears, prompting the question,

“Why am I even doing this if it hurts so much?”

But now is no time for reflection or meditation, or meltdowns. I must stop thinking about friends and family and all the special memories shared in recent days. That will have to wait.

So I go into travel mode instead, and get in the Air Canada line to check my bags.

Having pushed aside the grief of departure, I suddenly remember how much I love airports.  As liminal places, where transition is the norm, not the exception, airports facilitate both reunions and farewells, and are portals for people embarking on new adventures.

If I lived in a city with an airport, I would go there frequently to get work done. It would be an ideal place to think and pray and write, with plenty of events to watch and people to meet during study breaks. Despite certainty that a direct flight was the wiser choice this trip, it was actually rather disappointing that this new flight eliminated my 11-hour study time during the intended connection in Miami.

But back to Toronto. In less than half an hour, in addition to checking two 70-pound suitcases, I was able to:

• Chat with an endearing family from Johannesburg, South Africa, whose holiday in Canada was cut short and who were very enthusiastic to hear that I’ll be doing Bible translation.
• Meet a lady who has to have a layover in Brasil and is hoping not to get stuck there as she attempts to find a way home to Chile in the midst of cancelled flights and closing borders.
• Help an Asian man figure out how to make water come out of a fountain. He expressed his gratitude enthusiastically with a series of bows and a huge smile.
• Encourage a young, exhausted-looking mom of a two-year-old boy, who had to cancel travel plans to visit his daddy in Trinidad.
• Talk with a man heading to visit his family in Pakistan, where, according to him, they are safe from the virus.

Did I mention that airports are delightful? Besides the thrill of every takeoff, I love meeting people, hearing their stories, making connections, and sharing Jesus.

Did I also mention that airports are confusing? Staying up all night to finish packing didn’t contribute to mental clarity.

Three proofs of my exhaustion:

• Trying to go through security with the baggage cart.
• Misinterpreting the gestures of an agent, thinking he was telling me to dump my water, which I was planning to do anyway, when he was actually directing me to a different door.
• Walking through security with my sneakers on the whole time, never even thinking about taking them off until other people were putting theirs back on.

In my defense, by the time the sneakers incident happened, I was focused on a new temporary life mission: Cheer Up as Many Security Workers as Possible in Two-Minute Encounters. Most of them seemed really grumpy and irritable, which totally makes sense with all they must be dealing with recently.

Unfortunately, the only joke that came to mind was one I made up today with a reference to the book of Habakkuk. Since that would not be universally appreciated, I stuck with smiling and making an extra effort to be grateful and friendly.

The security workers must have been almost as overtired as I was, since they didn’t notice my sneakers. Or maybe they simply chose not to say anything out of kindness, because this is not a typical night in a typical airport.

Today, nearly everyone who is flying is facing unexpected circumstances or life changes or cancelled plans because of a global crisis. And that goes for people who aren’t in airports as well.

A virus so tiny we can’t see it is changing our world in ways so huge they cannot be denied.

We are fragile, vulnerable, formed from the dust to which we are destined to return.

Yet disease and death are not invincible superpowers. They will not be the end of the story for anyone who is in Christ Jesus.

As He said to Martha, four days after her world had fallen apart, “I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.” John 11:25

If we believe in Jesus, we have eternal life today, right now.

We, as people of the resurrection, have the opportunity to breathe Jesus’ life to those who only sense the death and darkness, the chaos and confusion of these moments.

What words of life and hope and joy can we speak to people around us?

The Friday before coming back.

In the midst of isolation and social distancing and separation, will we encourage others, intentionally building bridges of relationship in new and creative ways?

Even though our specific situations and responses to challenge and loss vary, can we be honest about feeling some combination of frustration, fear, anxiety, grief, or other messy emotions?

Can the solidarity of knowing we are all facing sudden unprecedented change connect us to the rest of humanity in a way that wasn’t possible before?

Will we have the confidence to believe and declare that Jesus, the Resurrection and the Life, is still at work in and through our lives, and in this chaotic world?