good sickness

I was hit with a cold bug this week. I started feeling not so great on Monday, stayed home from school on Tuesday, attempted to do something yesterday, but had no energy. Today I'm just starting to feel strong enough to actually get some reading done for my mid-term coming up on Monday. I even got a subbing call this morning, but was afraid to take it lest I make myself worse or infect my students.

Getting sick used to be fun as a kid. I could stay home from school, sleep in, receive extra attention from Mom, and watch movies. As an adult, it tears me away from my established routine and makes me think about life in a way I don't want to. That, and I'm responsible for the stuff I miss (like the Greek vocab quiz I missed on Tuesday).

Though my heart was inclined to spend time with the Lord, to seek him as my strength in the midst of my weakness of body, I found that all I wanted to do was sleep and amuse myself in my waking hours. Being groggy from medicine, I found that I didn't want to pay attention to any book, and only DVDs or computer games could keep me entertained and make me feel better. So most of the past two days have been filled with sleeping, movie watching, or resurrecting an old WWII computer game from my teenage years (except for a nice two hours Tuesday evening when Jessica came to visit me - she's a great girlfriend).

This morning I read a part of a paper on sickness by J.C. Ryle. One of his main points is that sickness is a gift from God, God's reminder to his mortal, fallen creation that life is short and to be lived for that which is of eternal consequence, namely, Christ and his Kingdom. I certainly wish I would have read this article before my sickness, but I am grateful nonetheless for the reminder that my body is fragile and temporal, and it won't last forever, even though I'm feeling better today. One day my life will end by means of sickness or age or violence, and my soul will face its Creator and have to give an account for the life He gave it.

May we take care of those eternal things now, and live as if we might die tomorrow, valuing only those things of ultimate importance.

getting back in the habit

It's the middle of October, and much has transpired since the second week of July. Apologies to my faithful readers out there who have been wondering where the heck I've been. The fact is, life just gets busy. Here's what that busyness has looked like lately:

First of all, there is a significant other in my life. Jessica and I have been dating for a month and a half now - not much time, but it's been delightful. We met about two years ago while I was in Kenosha for the summer after graduating from JBU, but weren't really on each other's radar screen until we participated in a mission trip to a Mexican orphanage in April. I was smitten by her godly demeanor, intelligence, and self-sacrificing passion for the children we were serving. So, I pursued. And miraculously enough, she responded! Thanks to God, we both live at home, are a part of the same local church, and have excellent parents and mentors to help guide us through the adventure of dating.

Also, I'm a full-time seminary student. Church History, Theology, and Greek are flowing through my veins. It thrills me to learn these things, and I am enjoying it greatly. No doubt it will get tedious and difficult after a while, but for the moment, I am content to buckle down and study hard.

On the side, I'm now officially licensed to substitute teach in the state of Wisconsin, so I'm learning how to wait for those 6 am calls from Salem Grade School to urge me out of bed and to the rescue of some poor, stranded learners. :)

jumping right in...

"Wow, honey," my mom exclaimed as she pulled out of our subdivision and drove to my carpool buddy's house, "I'm taking you to your third first day of school!"

It's true. My first day of class at grad school. Mom had taken me to my first day of school as a kindergartner, as a college student, and now as an MDiv student. I guess I'm just a momma's boy.

It's July 13th, and I'm in school. This is my first taste of summer education, as I dive into a six-week intensive Greek course to prepare myself for a semester full of theological learning. It's a ton of work, but it's actually rather exciting. I really enjoy learning the "guts" of a new language, especially the language of God's self-revelation. It's stimulating my brain and occupying the majority of my time.

Kenosha is treating me well, especially the lake. Lake Michigan is beautiful and majestic, with ocean-like character. We sailed on Saturday with some friends, and I was struck with Psalm 36's description of God's judgments: "like the great deep." Praise God for his wide, unknowable mysteries revealed in the person of his Son.

the world between the worlds (farewell to Parral)

The past two days found me enjoying the hospitality of an elderly missionary couple in El Paso, TX, after having been picked up at the bus station in Juárez on the night of the 2nd. We crossed the border without difficulty (except for a few apples confiscated by the officials), and ate a late-night snack before hitting the hay. David, Kristen, and Kim all flew out yesterday morning, and I stayed with Carolyn and Freeman, my elderly hosts. I spent the night at their house last night (the 3rd), and am now sitting in the El Paso airport, awaiting my direct flight to O’Hare at 1:55 pm.

The title of this post is drawn from The Magician’s Nephew, when Digory and Polly find themselves launched into a “middle world,” a forest land filled with little pools that lead to other worlds. Using their magic rings, they discover that they can jump in and out of different worlds: England, accursed Charn, Narnia, or a multitude of unknown others.

It is a good metaphor for this “middle ground” I tread at the moment, suspended between Parral’s world of teaching, service, familiarity with injustice and poverty, Mexican cultural norms, and Spanish and the new world that awaits me: American wealth, convenience, academia, relative comfort, and a new church body to love and serve.

As I paused at my host’s home, I spent a great deal of time in quiet solitude, reading and writing, even composing a new song from Psalm 31 on my guitar. It’s been a long time since I’ve had so much quiet. The Lord guided my thoughts to the recent past which was full of activity at church and school, preparing for graduation, packing up my stuff, saying hard goodbyes and promising to keep in touch. Then I find myself climbing out of that pool, soaked with clinging memories, and I stand up in a quiet place, staring at a new pool. I see the hazy images of Lake Michigan, my parents’ home, my church, Trinity’s campus, and even hazier possibilities of future plans and aspirations.

I mentally prepare for the transition, hoping the old pool will still be accessible in my mind’s eye, and start to wade in. A roar of jet engines fills my ears, promising a new adventure of light and shadow, triumphs and challenges, new discoveries and relationships. Hoping the mist will soon become clear, I dive fully in, trusting in the deep magic that sent me into that old world in the first place, back out, and into the newness that awaits me.

the last day of school

Folks, we've arrived. After a week of taking exams, school is officially out. That is, for the students. We teachers still come to school and...don't do much. I'm just here, doing occasional jobs that arise (organizing books, cleaning out lockers, etc.), but for the most part, sitting at my computer, writing blog posts like this one and listening to some great music on MySpace (Sojourn Worship out of Louisville - give them a listen!).

The end came ungloriously, without much fuss and bother. High school got out two weeks ago, after finishing their exams. Junior high and elementary stayed until the past few days, taking one exam per day. Tomorrow, there will be no students here. A school without students is an empty thing, like an auditorium without orchestra or audience.

My fourth graders (aren't they cute?) had a party after their last exam today, and they invited me to take part. Maestra Ana Laura and I gave our goodbye speeches and prayed over the banquet of mom-provided food. What followed reminded me of a Sunday afternoon buffet, only at 9 am. Fried rice, empanadas, Jello, fruit salad, pasta salad, and guayaba pie were just a few items on the menu. All the children broke loose in joyous gluttony, devouring whatever they could in 15 minutes. With all the yelling of "Hey, are you gonna eat this?" and "That soda is MINE!", it was a colorful feast.

I probably won't see many of those kids again. It does sadden me, but as my dad advised me a week or two ago, it's also worth celebrating and praising God for what he's accomplished the last two years. A work of patience, love, forgiveness, and growth: on both parts.

first of the lasts

Today is our last parent/teacher meeting at the school. It is one of the first "lasts" that I am beginning to experience here in my beloved Mexican community. I put on my beloved blue tie, shine my battered dress shoes, and spray on a little cologne, remembering how I live in a culture that values personal presentation very highly. I arrive at the school and then remember how I didn't shave this morning. Oops. Hopefully my students' parents will think the scruffy look is professional.

Such thoughts about my host society make me reflect on the past two years, and what I've learned about living cross-culturally (as we say in the Bible Division at John Brown University). In my different cultural communication classes at JBU, I remember learning about "style switching," which involves learning the different values and behaviors of your host culture over time, then imitating them. To say that I've done that like a pro would be a lie, but thank goodness there's a learning curve, as well as plenty of grace bestowed by my Mexican brothers and sisters.

Many of my friends tell me, "No te vayas!" which means, "Don't go!" How am I to respond to that? I know I must go - I am convinced of God's call on my life - but it feels as if the roots I have put down here are being torn back up in an unnatural break. Although I know I will probably be able to come back and visit, things will certainly not be the same. As someone recently commented to me, "Saying goodbye is a little taste of death."

The other day, I counted the number of places in which I have lived for the past 6 years (counting dorm rooms, houses, apartments, etc.). The tally? Nine. Number of states? Four (including the state of Chihuahua). This period of my life has been very transitory, full of change and adaptation. And now another change will happen. Who knows how long that stage will last before more change occurs?

The point? Change is life, life is change. But oh, how it produces in me a longing for my true home, where I will be eternally at peace, never shifting, always abiding. My soul's ache in this temporal reality is for an Anchor, fixed in that eternal Reality, where rest is forever and faith is no longer necessary, for we will know him face to face.

back at it...one last time

Apologies to my faithful readers for my two-month silence. Much hath occurred this spring in my life here in Parral. The following is a brief summary:

1. Spring Break - I was heavily involved with our numerous youth activities during the first week of spring break (Mexico has two weeks, called Semana Santa), in which we decorated the house of prayer at the church, cleaned parts of the church building, and hosted a group of youth from San Luis Potosí, a large city in central Mexico. During the second week, I was able to take a bus trip up to Ciudad Juárez and meet the youth group from my church in Kenosha at an orphanage there, where we spent a week with the children, serving and loving them in whatever way we could. 

2. Swine Flu and a Trip Home - Upon returning from Juárez, we had classes for a few weeks, but then the global panic about swine flu began to hit the fan the last week of April. I had a plane ticket bought for the first of May to go home and visit my family and watch my brother graduate from college, but a nationwide school suspension and a generous move of my parents brought me home a few days early. I enjoyed a week in Kenosha, reuniting with different folks from the Body there and receiving much from good fellowship. Then my mom and I drove to Joplin and spent time with my grandparents for a day before going down to Siloam Springs and visiting my brother at JBU. After a sweet reunion with several JBU friends and professors at graduation (and hearing an excellent graduation speech from my bro), Mom took me to the airport in Tulsa, which eventually landed me back in Parral, after an overnight stay in El Paso with a delightful missionary family. 

3. A Big Decision - As the title of this post gives away, I have finally made the official decision to return to the States after this year of teaching is over. The school year terminates in early July, and I will moving back home and (hopefully) starting at seminary in the fall, as well as become involved in my local church in Kenosha and (again hopefully) find a part-time job as I go to school. It was a difficult decision in that I will certainly miss the people of the church and school down here, but God made it very clear that this is the right direction in which to head. 

So, I would covet your prayers as I finish this school year. I have two months to faithfully love and serve this school and church, and I want to do it with all my heart, unto the Lord. Please pray that I remain faithful and that I don't give into the temptation to mentally "check out" (believe me, that temptation is very real!). And if you have been praying for me and the work of the Gospel here, I thank you wholeheartedly! May our God continue to establish the work of our hands as we toil for his service and unto his glory.

putting your hand to the plow

Jesus once said that whoever puts his hand to the plow and looks back is not fit for the kingdom of God (Luke 9:62). My friend Ruth mentioned this verse to me yesterday when we were talking about what God has been doing in our lives. She said that God used this verse to challenge her to keep following the path that God had set out for her and not dwell on past failures. 

To be honest, I've never liked this verse too much. It always sounded overly religious to me, like Jesus wanted unreflective, robotic zealots for disciples. Never looking back and plowing straight ahead didn't sound appealing to me, because of the lack of reflectivity involved in such determination. I like reflectivity.

However, after my conversation with Ruth, I began to see the verse in a different light. If you're plowing, you've gotta face forward. Jesus isn't saying that we don't learn from the past or reflect on what we've experienced, he's saying that the Kingdom of God is about straight rows and well-plowed fields. If we're focused on what's behind us, we're plowing crooked. 

Recently, I realized that I most often look back as an escape. Life in Mexico is not hard. I don't suffer anything, just distance from loved ones mainly. My job is not enormously stressful or difficult. Things can be stressful at times, but no different than life in the States can be. But still I find myself desiring the "better life" on the other side. Like when my mom cooked my meals for me. Or when I had the freedom to learn new things and reflect deeply at college. Or gazing upon the deep blue of Lake Michigan instead of a dull Parral desert. And having put my hand to the plow, I look back.

I hate falling into this deception, but I do it almost every day: imagining a "better life" somewhere else than the place where God has so faithfully called and equipped me to be right now. And having taken the bait, I rue my "former life" and resent the current one that is brimming with possibility and discovery if I have eyes to see it. 

May God make us people of the moment and enable us to bloom where he has planted us. 

Philosophy class

Spring semester brings a new delight into my life: teaching Philosophy to ready-to-graduate high school seniors. I teach them 20th Century History in the fall, in which I greatly enjoy imparting to them my love for the past. But there's something about pushing these kids out of their comfort zone to think about their life from another angle and preparing them for the college world that really exhilarates me. 

We're about ready to finish up Unit I, a short intro to the subject of Philosophy. Now, I have to follow a boring government outline, but aside from that, I can do whatever I want. I try to draw out their natural hunger for meaning, which is especially keen as a blossoming young 17 year old. Asking the question, "What is life all about anyway?" is natural for them (or at least should be) at this stage or perhaps a little bit later in life. So I take advantage of this life-questioning and try to make them think for themselves about understanding reality in and around them. 

But as a teacher, I want to always submit myself to the probing question that Paul asks in Romans 2:21 - You then who teach others, do you not teach yourself?. That is, am I practicing the same kind of self-examination and brain-stretching that I ask from my students? Or am I contenting myself to an unreflective, tossed-by-the-wind-and-waves kind of life?

It's easier to reflect this way here, in a foreign country, where I see all the exposed cracks of Mexican culture and liberally point out its failures, starting with ranchero music and ending with its corrupt police system. I see how much better off I am as an educated, spiritualized, organized gringo. I see the values of my reflective and informed life, and I shake my head at this backwards society that knows no such thing and is governed by its sensual, materialistic passions. 

And then Paul hits me again: If I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.

This keeps me running to Christ. I love reflectivity, pondering the mysteries of life, but if I haven't any love, these mysteries are empty. Even if I do understand this culture, my own, or even grasp a full understanding on truth itself, it does me no good unless I love and am loved. I'll arrive at the end of all things and stand before Eternity Himself with empty hands and a forfeited soul. 

Jesus is still in the boat.

The summer before I came to Mexico the first time, I went sailing several times with my family on Lake Michigan. One of the most memorable sails was on a cloudy Sunday afternoon with a few friends from church. The wind and waves were technically safe, but the gusts and swells we encountered rocked the sturdy 27-footer in a manner that told my greenhorn sailing sense to be glad I was not at the helm. I trusted my dad through the trip, knowing that he wouldn't venture out into what he couldn't handle. But I found a new respect for the sailors of old, braving wild seas with limited technology far from shore. 

I'm sure that Peter and the rest of his maritime fishing partners knew the capricious seas on which they sailed, and that the storm in which they found themselves in Matthew 8 was no joking matter. Matthew records that the boat was being swamped by the waves. That makes my little Lake Michigan adventure sound like a pleasant day trip compared to having waves twice my height crash into the boat and threaten to send her to the bottom. 

And Jesus was sleeping. 

No doubt he was tired from his long day of teaching, healing, and casting out demons, but seriously...he was sleeping?

You know the story - they wake him up, thinking they'll be dead in a few minutes and he's their only chance out of this mess (they were right). He reprimands them for their lack of faith and then directs his attention to the tempest, saying, Peace! Be still! 

I like how the Eugene Peterson puts it in the Message: The sea became smooth as glass. The men rubbed their eyes, astonished. "What's going on here? Wind and sea come to heel at his command!"

I imagine myself in the disciples' place, and I would flipping out and wanting to wake up Jesus thinking he'd drown too, if he didn't wake up and do something fast. You know, Jesus would have been caught off guard, he wouldn't have...known what...to do.

He was in control the whole time, asleep and awake.

I'm trying to believe this is true. I wouldn't say life is a tempest right now, perhaps somewhere between a Lake Michigan rumble-tumble and a Galilee gale, but life and all its noise is making me lose sight of peace. I feel like Jesus is sleeping and thus isn't in control or doesn't really care. 

Father, give us: eyes to see that Jesus is indeed with us in the boat, an understanding of your desire for your glory and our good, and the faith necessary to trust in your sovereign promises.

pray for Antonio

I arrived early at church yesterday, thinking I would be needed to help with the praise band. Turns out that I didn't, so I began wandering around and greeting folks that had arrived. A young man I had never seen before was sitting by himself in the back, so I went over to introduce myself and talk to him. His name was Antonio, and he had just arrived in the city as a soldier of the Mexican army, and was involved in training in a nearby town. I asked if he was a Christian, and he said no, but several of his friends had given him music and sermons from the pastors of our church to listen to, and since he was in the area, he wanted to visit and find out more.

It turns out that Antonio knew next to nothing about the Christian faith, but felt that all his attempts to be a good person and please others were coming to nothing. So I explained to him that we are all like that. We try to reach a place of rightness, to be good, but we can't. And I told him about Jesus, who makes us right in the eyes of God despite our having offended God through ignoring him and thinking that we can do it all ourselves. 

Tears came into his eyes as he explained to me how he has been wanting to make his life better, but he knows he can't. God had obviously been rubbing this sore spot, drawing Antonio to himself. 

The service began, and the Gospel was preached. After church, we sat there in those blue plastic folding chairs at the back of the auditorium and Antonio gave his heart to Jesus.

Please pray for him, because he doesn't have many friends and knows very little about Jesus, but I think the essentials are becoming readily stuck in his heart. Like a newborn baby is completely dependent on its new environment, so this newborn is going to need a lot of help. So please pray for him to know and believe the truth of the Gospel deep down, and that it would bear good fruit.

ready or not...

Classes started again today for Elementary and Junior High, after two days of cultural adjustment and preparation. I read my 4th graders a story from their reader and am trying out a new discipline system with them, to see if I can maintain a little more order. Wednesday is my double trouble day with my 9th graders, so we kicked right off with some good ol' passive tense. 

Church life has been interesting since our arrival at the Parral bus station 5:30 Monday morning. After sleeping an hour or two, we got to school around 10 am (classes hadn't started yet - it was a prep day in the office). Somebody told me how the youth group had started an entertainment fast and a two-prayer-meetings-a-day routine, wanting to re-connect with God. It caught me a little off my guard, but I'm learning to roll with the punches as they come. 

I sometimes find myself struggling with the spirituality of the body I'm a part of down here. It's intense, to say the least. Not legalistic, not even overly charismatic, just very intense. Everything is urgent, it seems - urgent to know God, to recapture a right spirit, to establish justice, to raise money for a project, to worship rightly. And these things are good, but instead of communicating zeal, it often gives off a sense of unpreparedness, a lack of structure and organization (not uncharacteristic for a latin church). But is that just my North American cultural bias talking? Should Christians seek sanctification in a long-term "process" way, or short-term "we need this now" way? Thoughts are appreciated...