Wednesday, March 9, 2011


I've now been back in the good ol' USA for over a week.
I apologize.
The 2010-11 Discipleship Training School class has now been graduated. :) [Great job, guys. I love you all!]
And I have found myself in meetings about what this year's DTS will look like.
It's a hard gear to switch, let me tell you.
BUT- this week is my week off.
To recoup and get on track for the busy spring.
*also, to let you all know in a nutshell what happened in Thailand this year!
The new believers in Thailand are still so heavy on my heart- sometimes it doesn't feel like reality, jumping back into the work here!
But God is so good.
I sit here, on a Monday afternoon in a classy little cafe'. As I listen to the talk around me I determine that the delicately grey woman in the corner must be Mung. It's refreshing to hear someone speaking another language. I'm reminded how only just over a week ago I was in Thailand. It seems so distant now. Not just held apart from me by the ocean and landmass barricades, but by this nagging feeling inside of me.
I reach up and touch my necklaces. There are 3. The first, from my dear LaMud, that persevering saint of a 13 year old. My heart breaks with love for her. She reminds me of my sister, Josey.
The next necklace, a simple black cord. No ornaments on it, from Urt. A 10 year old Evangelist I left in charge of a Bible study group. Urt loves to dance.
And the last, an army tag style cross. This one is from a bungle of 2nd graders I taught, who are so vulnerable and precious. "Prat Jesu!" they told me as they put it around my neck. *Beaming* because they knew His name and the knew how much I loved Him.
I'm unashamed to cry here in this little cafe'. If there's one thing I learned, it's that I must share my heart with everyone. Even with the bearded man eating a cajun chicken panini across from me.
I pause and take a warm sip of my Latte' Miel. "It's good to have real coffee" I think.
On my lap to one side of this overstuffed chair lays a book I am reading, "The Lessons of St Francis".
St. Francis. Such a simple man. I want to know the joys of simplicity like him. To hear God in everything. And also, what makes a Saint a Saint? So many thoughts!
Everything is so complex here. No wonder people can't hear God anymore!
On the other side of my lap is my black Bible, worn from it's traveling but oh-so beautiful.
And I think to myself "This is it!". This is what it's all about. The Gospel of Christ, the Word of God! His words on earth. How privileged am I to hold this in my hand. I'm crying again.
But, a new fervor has risen in my heart. This book I have can save that bearded man's marriage, it could turn his life around. No, my job isn't over. My mission has only begun. Yes, Lord! I pray. Send me back to my dear Thai disciples any day. But above all, Christ, let me know this book! After all, in it are the words of life, right? My mood decidedly lightens as I realize I had looked away from life's center.
The shock and awe of coming home again has taken it's tiring toll. But the rebound has come. I will fight sin until the day I die. Whether I am here, working at YWAM Northwoods with fellow followers, or with a church of new Thai converts full of fire and passion. Or even if I work at walmart someday helping people who have empty souls. Lost sight of my goal? May it never be!
I sit here and praise God for the things He has done. And not only that, but the things He will do.
I am ready now to walk out the door and hear the little bell above it ring. But I feel different then when I came in. I am walking out unto my mission field. And that little bell is praising the Lord.

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