Dealing with Discouragement

I wanted to stay at home like we always do on Sunday nights. It is not so much that I am a stickler for routine. I just like staying home. So last week when I read in the bulletin that we had a special service to hear a missionary speak, I inwardly groaned. When the pastor asked for a show of hands, I raised mine slightly, not committing to anything. I knew I would go. I felt obligated as a former missionary. I also enjoy hearing missionaries speak. But my calendar was full. I had something every night along with substitute teaching almost every day. I did not like the idea of adding one more thing to an overloaded schedule.


Gabriel had his final drama performance where he was doing the lighting. I picked him up and we went straight to church from there. We had a small group of people there. 20 perhaps. It was a typical missionary service with slides showing their ministry and a question and answer time followed. Then he asked us to open up our Bibles. I was completely prepared for a "Go ye therefore" type sermon. I couldn't have been more wrong. I don't know why the other 19 people came because the sermon was for me.

And they journeyed from mount Hor by the way of the Red sea, to compass the land of Edom: and the soul of the people was much discouraged because of the way. Numbers 21:4

Our journey over the last 18 months has been long and weary. It has affected every area of my life - emotionally, physically, financially and spiritually - and left me drained and discouraged. We know that God has led us here but honestly there are days when I feel that He has dropped us in the middle of the desert and forgotten us. I wonder about His timing. Why is this process taking so long? Haven't I spent enough of my life learning patience?

And the people spake against God, and against Moses, Wherefore have ye brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? for there is no bread, neither is there any water; and our soul loatheth this light bread. Numbers 21:5

"Lord," I have prayed in recent months, "why did you have us leave Romania? We loved it there. Our friends are there. And I'm so weary of this hectic pace and this cramped apartment." I found myself becoming negative, critical and much discouraged. But God had prepared a sermon for me that night. I don't remember all the words that were spoken but those two verses slapped me in the face.


Life is often tiresome and discouraging. It's an uphill climb most days. And while discouragement is not a sin, it can quickly cause us to sin. I am still in the meditation mode on this sermon and I haven't sorted out all my thoughts just yet. But the discouragement has quickly evaporated and is being replaced by joy and gentle reminders of God's care from His Word. I am still on my long journey and I don't know when or where it will end. But God does and in that thought, that truth, I will trust.

But he knoweth the way that I take: when he hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold. Job 23:10

My Story - The Call Part 2

I did not marry that boy across the table. I finished both elementary school and high school without finding Mr. Right. I spent the next four and a half years in college, trying to earn my MRS degree. I still dreamed of being a pastor’s wife and attending Liberty Baptist College seemed like the ideal place to make that happen. Since the college did not offer a degree in Pastor’s Wife, I decided to major in Drama. That was fun for a season and while I still love drama, I realized it would be difficult to make it my career. So, I began my sophomore year with a more practical plan of becoming a teacher. I successfully graduated in 1985 with a BS in Elementary Education and failed miserably at any attempts on the MRS degree.

During those long and often lonely collegiate years, God gave me a tender heart toward missions and I surrendered to do whatever the Lord wanted me to do. I didn’t feel led to go to a foreign field as a single woman. There are many single missionary women and there is nothing wrong with that. It was not the path that I was to take. I did try to open a few doors in that direction but each time, they were shut tight. Right after I graduated from college, I had applied with the Southern Baptist Convention Journeyman program to be a short-term missionary for two years. They rejected me! I never found out their reason but just accepted it as God’s plan.

The next winter, I held in my hands a contract to teach in a Christian school in Korea. The excitement of going to a foreign land, serving God in what I was trained to do was intriguing. By this point in my life, I had taught for a year at a small Christian school. I had assumed that since Mr. Right was not at Liberty, that he must be at this church. Unfortunately, there was no sign of him. I was frustrated with my job and wanted to quit. I had to teach too many subjects to too many children in a tiny classroom on a meager salary. This wasn’t teaching. It was more like spitting out facts and giving tedious assignments at the end of the day better known as homework. There was always the hope that the administration would see my plight and divide the class in half, leaving me with only one grade to teach. But hope deferred makes the heart sick. My hope grew thin and my heart weary of my career and the everlasting absence of Mr. Right so I looked for opportunities elsewhere. I considered the contract. It was the perfect way out. There was only one obstacle blocking the way and that was the complete lack of peace in my heart. I prayed, cried and pleaded with God but the peace did not come. This was not the path that I was to take. I knew that if God wanted me on the mission field, I’d have to marry a missionary. But that didn’t happen.

Instead, I met John, a Richmond City Police officer. We dated for a solid week and he asked me to marry him. “Lord,” I prayed during our short dating relationship, “he’s not a missionary, not a pastor, not a ‘full time Christian service’ anything. Is this Mr. Right? Is this the man you have for me? Is it okay for me to marry someone who is not in the ministry?” There was no audible answer. Only peace. The peace that I searched for in the doors that I had tried to open. The peace I longed for in my years of searching for the way God would have me to go. At last I had stepped on the right path and the peace of God, which passes all understanding, had filled my heart.

My Story

March 14th will be the one year anniversary of our departure from Romania. I am sure that many events during our years there will never be erased from my mind while I am still on this earth. Some are a dim memory already. It is time to write them all down. I wrote the following over a year ago while we were still in on the field.

It was about a month ago when John told me that he felt like the Lord might be telling us that it’s time to leave Romania. After ten years of being in the ministry, I am not sure how I feel about that. Part of me would be relieved of the burden of ministering in a foreign, post communist country. We have spent years trying to learn the language and culture in order to communicate the gospel. We have given up conveniences taken for granted in America in exchange for third world medical facilities. We have left family and familiarity for loneliness and frustrations. We gave all that we knew how to give, not for the sake of pride, not because we were special but because God asked us to. Another part of me would be excited about whatever adventure the Lord might be planning. Where will we go next? What ministry does God want us to be involved in? What miraculous things will I be praising Him for in the coming year? There is a part of me that would be terrified. We are comfortable where we are now. I do not know if I could ever be fluent in the language but I don’t have a problem carrying on a conversation. I wish that I could say that I have the gift of tongues. However, God decided that gift was only for a certain time period. I do however seem to have the gift of accents. I have done a lot of traveling over my lifetime and it does not take very long to pick up the local accent, totally unbeknownst to me. I have sat with a group of women in Romania on several different occasions and talked with them for a while. They were amazed to discover that I was not Romanian and insisted that I had no accent. Missionary life is far from easy but what is known is more acceptable than what is alien. Saying “Yes!” to God and packing up when He hasn’t told us where to go is more than frightening. After the relief, the excitement and the fears, there is the rest of my heart – the biggest part that will be crushed to leave the friends that we have made over the years. Belongings can be sold or put in boxes and shipped across an ocean, but how do I pack up my heart? Or how can I survive if I leave it behind?

God has been whispering to my heart that it is time to write my story. The words that I have to put on paper will never rival Corrie Ten Boom’s. They will not be considered newsworthy like the sinking of the Titanic and appear in every newspaper and I am sure no one will ask to make a movie about my life. My hope is, however, that perhaps through my journey a soul will be inspired. Maybe the lessons that I have learned will encourage another to step out on faith and live a life blessed by God.

Goals for the next 2 weeks

John and Gabriel left this morning on a mission trip. They are going to spend 12 days in the beloved country of Romania ministering to those we won to Christ and reaching out to friends yet unsaved. Part of me longs to be there with them, seeing friends once again. The rest of me is glad to avoid the long trip and inevitable jet lag. The girls and I will miss the men being gone, (Gabriel is hardly a boy anymore.) but we have some plans and goals to accomplish during this time. Here are a few of mine:

• Organize paper work
• Learn to French braid
• READ!
• Blog more often
• Watch LOST
  
• Begin writing my book

What's happening at your house?

The Very Beginning - Almost

Life is far from boring right now but there are not many blog worthy events to write down. So I thought I would write some more about our lives as missionaries and how we got there in the first place.

If I were to give my story a title it might be, “Lord, here am I, send me. But what are you going to do about my husband?” I spent four and a half years in college, trying to earn my MRS degree. I dreamed of being a pastor’s wife and attending Liberty Baptist College seemed like the ideal place to make that happen. However, I ended up with a BS in Elementary Education and failed miserably at any attempts on the MRS degree. During those years, God gave me a tender heart toward missions and I surrendered to do whatever the Lord wanted me to do. I didn’t feel led to go to a foreign field as a single woman. There are many single missionary women and there is nothing wrong with that. I don’t think I’m cut out for it. Right after I graduated from college, I had applied with the Southern Baptist Convention Journeyman program to be a short-term missionary for two years. They rejected me! I never found out why but just accepted it as God’s plan. Later, I all but signed a contract to teach in a Christian school in Korea. But I had no peace about that. I knew that if God wanted me on the mission field, I’d have to marry a missionary. But that didn’t happen. Instead, I met John, a Police officer; 100% cop. It was his life. We were married in April of 1987 and I just knew he’d be a cop the rest of his life. Asking John not to be a cop was like asking a fish not to swim or a bird not to fly. It was in his blood. He lived to write people tickets. The faster they were going the more he loved it. And he hated rainy days because he couldn’t run radar. I never mentioned to John that I felt the Lord had called me to missions. And I never asked God to make him a missionary. My prayer for him during the early years of our marriage was that he would be closer to God and the spiritual leader in our home. Well, the Lord certainly answered that prayer and in April of 1991 John told me that he felt the Lord calling him into full time ministry. I was surprised and not surprised.