Update

It's been almost a year (10 months) since I wrote a post on this blog, so I doubt very much anyone is still keeping up with me, but I wanted to drop a line here anyway, because I go back through my blog every once in awhile, to see what I was thinking during such-and-such a year.


And I certainly do shake my head over some of the things I've written in the past. How dramatic I can be at times! How wordy. How arrogant. How ecstatic. How depressed. How excited over little things. How hopeful.

Yes, life has its ups and downs. And yes, we grow and change as life passes. Someday I'll look back at my now-self, and shake my head over some of the things I'm doing and thinking. But I'll also grin, tongue-in-cheek, as I recall the way my nephew has me wrapped around his finger, or how ridiculous I get on Saturday mornings when I'm excitedly telling customers at the Farmer's Market that they NEED a pumpkin cream cheese muffin to make their morning happy.

I'm sure I will smile when I remember my trips to Honduras this year (that's where I am in the above photo) and, as sure as I'm alive, my heart will thump then as it thumps now when I think of that place. It will squeeze up tight and ache to be there, because I miss my "second home" as soon as the plane leaves the runway and heads towards the clouds.

I'll thank God for a very strange summer, that had me learning in a new way what it means to ask God to provide for my daily bread, and also what it means to have Him direct my steps day-by-day when I can't see my feet. I'll sigh when I think of how I called myself "Job" - not because I suffered anywhere near like that man did, but because everyone around me agreed that God Himself was not just allowing trouble to come into my life, but seemed to be actually going out of His way to point it in my direction and, unlike Job, I flunked the test and got really mad at God for "picking on me." But after I sigh I'll get down on my knees and thank God for forgiveness and for giving me new eyes.

This morning I sat in church and listened to a Sunday School lesson that reminded me I need to spend time every day quieting my heart to reflect on what God is doing, and who He is, and how much I love Him, and how much He loves me. And I mean just sitting and thinking - not reading, not doing another job while I'm thinking, but just sitting and talking to Him about how we're doing. It's especially important  in this season of my life that I remember to do that, because lately life has become a really big swirl of activity. 

This year God confirmed something He's been hinting at for a long time in my life:

I'm meant to do missions.

I don't know how to say that, exactly. "Called to be a missionary," sounds pretentious, considering how much respect I have for missionaries. But "It's what I'm meant to do," focuses too much on me, and, "It's what makes me happy," sounds like a really selfish reason to do anything.

But here's what I do know: "missions" is to lovingly invest in the lives of others, at the expense of other things you could be doing, for the sole purpose of making them worshipers of Christ.

And I don't have anything else I want to do.

We live in a world chock-full of options. My generation ....we have the world at our fingertips. We can pursue almost anything! And God has been so good to me, with opportunities I can't even begin to count. I spent last year with the goal of trying as many new things as I possibly could - things I was afraid of, or had never dared to do.

The more I tried, the more this thought was cemented in my mind: I don't want to do anything else. My very soul comes on fire when I am actively involved in sharing the gospel with people, loving people, sharing with them, and crying out to the Lord for them. And things that I hold dear - things I would never consider doing without - I throw away without a second's thought when an opportunity to share the gospel presents itself. My priorities have arranged themselves without talking to me about it - the things I thought were important were somehow nudged a little lower on the list, and this one thing has become a consuming desire with a strength that, to be honest, scares me to death.

You see why I must make more time to be quiet before the Lord - this consuming desire can become a runaway train, and I must know what it is that is taking possession of my heart. I must know Who He is.

I don't know yet how God is going to direct me. I don't believe "missions" is completely expressed in the idea of "sell everything you own and move to another country". If that's all it were, an atheist business man could do that. Missions is a heart attitude. It's a goal. It's a way of life. It's wherever you are.

So it's very simple, as a new friend told me a few months ago: "If God's called you to missions, then mission." 

 And that's my current adventure. It's including everything from forming a close relationship with an unsaved college student, to getting involved in local prison ministry, to starting a children's Bible club at a local after-school care, to volunteering in a mission board office, to planning a mission trip to the other side of the world, and another to Honduras.

In the middle of all of that, just like Paul made tents, I'm balancing three part-time jobs. I love each of them, and each of them give me more opportunities to witness, but, wow, do I feel stretched for time! (Everyday stuff, like laundry and dishes and baking have become precious treasures that are often hard to achieve!)  

Anyway, that's where I am right now - happy, very content, but in the middle of a big learning process, as I figure out how to best spend my time, and try, in the middle of the craziness, to remember that DOING is nothing, if I'm not BEING, and that starts by spending a ton of time with my best Friend.


  

Virginia Earthquake

Saturday, as I sat on top of a mountain (yes, really!), I told two friends that I really needed to write a blog post about "the" earthquake, but that it would be senseless to write so late. I mean, honestly, everything that can be said about it has been said about it, right?

All except my bit of the story.

So, what do you want to hear? An explanation of where I was, what I thought, how I panicked? ...or an explanation of what in the world I was doing sitting on top of a mountain on Saturday?

That one is easy. I climbed up there. All 1.5 miles. Lovely climb. My favorite mountain in the world. It is nothing but bare rocks at the top, so the view is unimaginable unless you've been there.

So we were sitting on rocks at the top of the world discussing blogs and earthquakes.

Just in case you are a reader from another country, or the other side of my country, let me explain: I live in Virginia. On August 28th, an unexpected 5.8 earthquake rattled life all up and down the east coast of America. We felt it.

Everybody has their own story about where they were and what they were doing when the earthquake hit. I doubt we'll ever forget it. It was the first - and maybe the only - earthquake I've ever been in. (Honestly, an earthquake in Virginia?)

Actually, I didn't panic. It took me about 10 seconds to realize that this was not a plane overhead, a train close by, or our friendly neighborhood quarry giving off a long blast. The word "earthquake" hit my mind, and I suddenly knew. It took approximately 2 more seconds for my heart rate to kick into high gear.

My first thought was to warn everyone. "But who would believe me?" Honestly - in the midst of what could have been a emergency situation, for all I knew, I was worried about what people thought of me. I'd rather not analyze this part of my reaction.

My next thought was wonder - how bad was this going to get? And I wondered if I should try to find safety. A doorway was nearby, and I stood in it. The ground was still vibrating, and the loud rumbling continued steadily. A friend of mine stood in the doorway across from me. "Do you know what's going on?" she asked (she's from California).

"It feels like an earthquake!" I replied, trying to sound skeptical in case I was wrong.

"That's exactly what it is!" she replied.

We stood there in silence and waited for something to happen. I thought about the plates miles and miles beneath me, grinding over one another, affecting so many people. God was moving the world - and those atheists couldn't do a thing! I found it quite satisfying to think how frustrated they must be to realize it. Then I realized I was quite helpless - and the concept of my own insignificance in the realm of the universe nearly suffocated me.

I didn't know what to expect. When the noise and shaking just kept going, and going, and going, I began to wonder if something really big was going to happen. Would the building collapse? Would our town become a disaster area? Were people being hurt?

"This is what the end times will be like..." Then a breath of wonder caught in my throat. Could it be?

Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. It was over. We were still here.

My pulse was throbbing in my wrist and chest. My legs were having their own private little earthquake. But, strangely enough, the sensation in my mind was one of disappointment.

That's it? I wanted to feel it again, just to know I hadn't dreamed it.

A few minutes later, I realized why I was so disheartened.

It could have been the rapture.

But it wasn't.

I suddenly ached so much to see Jesus that my eyes got misty. "Why don't You come, Lord? When will it be?" There was no regret, no longing to live "a few more" days here. For that glorious moment, all I wanted was Him. And I was sad He hadn't come.

Then I realized what would have happened if that HAD been the rapture. There is so much to do! So many people to reach! So much to say! Reality slapped me.

Facebook came alive moments after the quake. I read the posts, imagining what facebook will look like moments after the rapture. What will they say? Oh, the panic that will surge in their hearts! The hopelessness of it all! My heart aches for them - and yearns to spare them that.

There is much to do, folks. Much to pray for. We've been given a precious gift - time. Time to work, and preach, and implore.

Let's not waste it.

Those long-promised pictures

(Note: I wrote this post on Wednesday, but it took me until Thursday night to load the pictures and publish it...just so there's no confusion. :)

Oh, there's so much I could catch you up on today! For starters, I just made a batch of chocolate chip cookies, and have a few cookie-making tips to share:

~ If you replace half your butter with shortening in an all-butter cookie recipe, you get softer cookies. (yeah, I know - health goes out the window!) Ditto for replacing white sugar with brown. Reverse the process to get crispier cookies.

~ Don't leave out the salt. It's important to the finished taste and texture. And sea salt is way better than regular table salt.

~ ALWAYS sample your dough! :) :)

Not to switch topics too randomly, but we're having missions conference at my church this week, and it's been wonderful. I'm both sad and happy that it's Wednesday, meaning the week is half over. Every night has been so good! I can't wait for each night, yet I wish I could relive the one before. The preaching has been great, the missionary presentations wonderful, and the fellowship before and after services absolutely uplifting.

That's been my favorite part this year - the fellowship. I love being a part of a church this size, where I can talk directly to the speakers and missionaries and get more stories from them after the service. I love asking fellow members how they are enjoying the week. I love eating supper together before the service, and discussing how the Lord has been working in our lives this week. I love inviting friends to come to church and having them show up!

Also, guess what the 24th of this month was? It was the 3-month anniversary of Heather and Eugene's (my sister and brother-in-law's) wedding! (Incidentally, the day also marked the 1 year anniversary of the time they started courting.)

In memory of that special day, I thought I'd post some of those pictures I keep promising. (These were all taken with our camera, not the professional photographer's.)

Just after their first kiss

Sisters!

Heather with the marriage certificate. :)

My family. We number 9 now!

The wedding party.

That's all for now. Maybe more later. :)

The Flea Market

This Saturday was the first weekend this year that The King's Strings was able to go out to our local flea market and do evangelizing.

For those of you who are newer readers, and hence didn't catch all my references to our flea market ministry last summer, I'll explain briefly:

(Here we are last summer.)

The bluegrass gospel group that three of my siblings and I are a part of, The King's Strings, has a desire to use our music to reach folks with the gospel. In past years, my own family has gone out to the local flea markets a few times on our own, or with a member from our church, to set up our church's tent and pass out tracts. That something our church has been doing for a long time, whenever someone volunteers to go out there.

When we first joined our church, a few older men had been doing the flea market ministry but, to be honest, it was a lot for them to spend an entire morning out there in the heat and everything, so they slowly were coming to the point where they weren't able to do it very often. My sister Heather and I thought "Hey, we're young and full of energy, and this needs to be done, so let's do it!" ...and our family unofficially became "the Flea Market People."

It was either the first or second time we set up at the market that our brother Curtis brought his guitar along. He played whatever hymns came to mind and even though, at that time, he was just beginning to "get good" on the guitar, lots of people stopped to listen and take our tracts. As Curtis played, we older girls manned the tent table, and Dad and our younger siblings stood out in the walkway to catch those who didn't get close enough to the table for us to reach them. We found out that little people are really good at getting anyone - even a gruff-looking person - to take a tract from their small hands. :)

Last year, as the warm weather came back and it was flea market time again, we realized that we now had a new weapon to use; we had a music group that year! Not all 10 members of our group could make it out there every Saturday, of course, but most Saturdays there were at least 4 of us out there, from 6:00 to 12:00.

We were thrilled to see the way music opens doors. Folks stood around our table for many minutes at a time. They clapped at the end of each song, and some sang along. They almost forced us to have a "donation bowl," and hence unknowingly supplied the funds to buy more tracts. They stopped to talk, and talk, and talk.

I have many good memories of last year at the flea market. Getting there in the dark at 6:00, or a little after....shivering in the cold, blowing on numb fingers....getting sunburned later in the day as the heat rolled in and bounced off the gravel paths...long conversations as we sat around while waiting for the crowd to pick up...talks with brothers and sister in the Lord whom we met at the market, and who were so excited to see young people out doing soul winning.

You see, that year the Market Ministry officially was given over to us young people, and we were the ones who loaded up the car, got up at 5:something in the morning, drove over to the market, set up the tent and table, and did the playing and passing out of tracts. Sometimes Mom or Dad, or our Pastor or another member from church, would join us later in the day, but sometimes we did it alone. And we loved it either way. I think we encouraged others, just by being young and being out there.

...Breaking strings...eating whoopee pies, given us by the lady who set up her tent next to us...talks with people who need the Lord...strolling around the market and giving tracts to the other people set up to sell things...

...and watching people fall in love.

I mentioned that there was always at least 4 of us out there. That would be me, my brother Curtis, my sister Heather...and our newest The King's String member; the banjo-playing Eugene.

It was his mother who set up next to us and fed us with whoopee pies when we got hungry, by the way. :) And his sister would sometimes join in and play with us on her guitar. But it was Eugene who worked under our tent, playing and playing and playing....and talking. He has a heart to proclaim the gospel, but it wasn't long before we starting wondering if he had a heart for something - I mean someone - else, as well.

Before the summer was out, Heather and Eugene were courting.

Ah yes, I said I'd give you a brief background on our flea market ministry, didn't I? Oh well. You know me; "brief" is completely relative. You must bear with me. I am in a writing mood.

Anyway....last year was a time of forming a lot of bonds with each other as we spent long hours out at the market. Often we were joined by 3-5 other members of the group, and we all got to know each other much better, and create lots of good memories.

This year, we were so excited to get back. Last Saturday is probably the only time we will get over there between now and the wedding, but in May we plan to be back in the routine again.

I noticed a difference this year. On Saturday, we played a little less, and talked a little more. We passed out a lot more tracts and had longer conversations about the gospel. The members who before were quite willing to be out there, but yet shy about doing anything more than playing their instrument, are now learning to put the instrument down every so often and go talk to people. There is an undercurrent of something different in the whole group. I'm excited to see what God will do with us this year.

On Saturday we had a long interaction time with a former Muslim who now rejects any religion at all. He was very hard and bitter and arrogant, but prayer can work miracles. Please pray for him if you think of it. I may never see him again, but he is on my heart.

I would also like to challenge you; what are you doing to proclaim the gospel of Christ? Every person has their own "niche," their own method that suits them best. We use music because it's a tool God's given us. I also like to use writing because that's another tool God's given to me. He may have given you other tools, but I promise you that if you're His He's given you something. Every saved person has been commanded to share the gospel. It's not an option. But don't think of it as a command, really; think of it as the only way to live. He's forgiven you! And those around you are condemned to hell. How can you NOT want to tell them how to be forgiven?

Wow. I'm challenging myself. Blogging is so convicting.

The rest of my guest post

The rest of my guest post at Keeper of the Home is up today! Check it out if you'd like. I'd love to know what you think of it!!!!


P.S.
Thank you SO much to those of you who prayed for our evangelism/musical outing on Saturday! ALL of our players ended up being able to come after all, which was wonderful. Several of us (including me!) were burnt to a crisp by the sun, but our time out there was a TON of fun. Dad says he and our other "tract distributors" passed out several hundred tracts, which is great! I'll try to post more of an update as I have time. I just wanted to thank y'all for the prayers. :):) We need them!

Please pray.

We just found out that we will probably be missing 3 vital players in our group when we preform tomorrow at the festival. Please pray that everything still goes smoothly as we figure out how to compensate for the parts they usually play and sing. We will absolutely miss them a ton! They add a lot to our group. But I know God is still perfectly in control, and very able to bless our efforts. To Him be all glory!

Yikes!

I'm busy, busy, busy! Tomorrow The King's Strings plays at a festival in a small town some distance away from us.

For some time, we've been working on getting matching outfits. I volunteered to take care of making the shirts/ironing on the logos. This performance is our deadline.

Shirts. For 11 players.

What was I thinking? Was I thinking?

Okay - I'm joking. I'm actually have fun doing these shirts. I'm glad the rest of the group is letting me do them. ...But I am definitely feeling the pressure as time ticks away and I still have 6 shirts to finish.

I'm also feeling the pressure of expectation. We found out recently that this festival has been featured on the front page of their local newspaper, along with a photo of The King's Strings. Underneath the photo, amongst descriptions of other attractions there, is the following:

"...Music will also fill the air on Franklin Street. The featured group is The King's Strings from Goode. Band members range in age from early teens to early 20s, and they play bluegrass and gospel, bluegrass style. They will be performing at 11 a.m. on the porch of Basket Creations."

Wow.

It's strange, ya know. I get SO excited when we get an opportunity to play somewhere. But then I start hoping nobody has too high of expectations of us. After all, we're just amateurs. ...Well, most of us are. Some of our players are quite good. But some of us are just...well, normal.

I said at lunch today that we're Amber-tures. (amateurs) My poor brother, Curtis, the king of good jokes, nearly cried. :):):)

I get afraid, sometimes. Not of performing, exactly...I LOVE that. It's just fear of what folks think of us before we play compared to how they think after we play.

But is that right? Who are we playing for, anyway? Sure, we want to be good at what we do - but WHY? Why is it so important what folks think?

Am I remembering "...playing strings for the King of kings; we are The King's Strings"? Am I wishing that God would make me an expert right away, without going through the growing process of learning to play well?

Oh how fun that would be! Wouldn't it be nice to do something right the first time, without falling on your face, getting up, and trying again?

But what would I learn through that? I know what I'd learn; self-pride and self-reliance. And I'd miss out on the character-formations that happen in the learning process. Do I really want that?

Sigh. No, I guess not. Not in my heart of hearts. But it's tempting, sometimes.

Sheep

Here's a thought from one of this week's messages:

In biblical Israel, being a shepherd was a mundane job, but it was an important one. Everyone knew that the sheep you were watching were possible future sacrifices. It wasn't just the wool and meat the sheep provided that was important - shepherding was a religious job as well.

The shepherds were most often not the owners of the flock. Even David wasn't looking after his own sheep; they belonged to his father. The shepherds were the servants of the master, and they watched out for his interests by caring for the sheep.

If by chance a sheep wandered off, a shepherd was responsible to go find it. Remember the parable Jesus told about the lost sheep? Have you ever caught that phrase "...if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the WILDERNESS, and go after that which is lost, until he find it?"

Why does the shepherd leave the other sheep to the mercy of wolves, lions, bad weather, and other possible dangers and go after one sheep? Why? Ever wondered?

He has quite a situation on his hands. One sheep - wandered off somewhere, perhaps dead. Ninety-nine sheep - in the flock, under his eye. "Ugh, that stupid sheep! I can't leave all these ones alone! It's probably dead anyway - why go find it? A long hike, a fruitless search... I'll just leave it to whatever befalls it."

Very tempting way to think, huh?

But - and this is what I didn't know until this week - in Israel, a shepherd was required to go after that missing sheep...and prove that he had done so. Not so much that he needed to find a single, solitary lamb - though it was valuable livestock - but to show his master that he, the servant, was caring for the master's interests. To show that he wasn't slacking off on his job.

Even if it was a dead sheep that he found at the end of his search, he was to search. And he had to bring back something - a limb, a bloody skin, a piece of bone...or a living lamb. He could not return empty handed. To do so would leave him with no way of proving that he didn't just say "Oh, let the sheep rot - I'm certainly not going after it." He would have no way of proving that he cared.

Wow, did that hit home.

I've been commanded to search for lost sheep - to tell them of the Master. I am supposed to love them, but my primary purpose in witnessing is for the glory of God. I am to proclaim Him, and leave the results up to Him. Even if those results are that no one responds favorably. Even if no one repents. I still must go out. I must prove that I am obeying my Master, and I must prove that I care.

What will you bring back to your Master? We hope to bring back many living lambs, but even if your message is rejected, proclaim it anyway. Prove that you care. We can't return with bloody skins or mangled limbs, but God records our obedience. He'll know if we went out.

He will know.

Don't come back empty handed.

One reason why I've been busier, and posting less often:

Visit here to see what's occupied a lot of my time!

Check it out!

I just wrote a post over at another blog about the time we had on Saturday night. The King's Strings was asked to play at a missions conference. We had fun, were blessed SO much, - and also were all together for the first time! Read more about it (and hear us play!) here.

Tired but Happy

Whew!

We just got home minutes ago from a mission conference that The King's Strings were asked to play at. My family knows the Pastor at this local church, and so we were sure we'd be in for a wonderful time. We were not disappointed.

The preaching was excellent, the missionaries were ready to go, and the power of God moved among us.

There was an outdoor supper before the preaching started, and The King's Strings provided the dinner music. I'll have to write more about that later - for now; shower, and then to bed!!!!!!!

Thoughts

I've been thinking a lot lately about a certain characteristic of God. I'm not sure what to call it, because I don't know all the right theological terms. In my mind, I call it the complete-in-control-ness of God.

When I stop to think about it, I really get overwhelmed.

Some of you may remember me referring to the book "Mountain Rain," a biography of missionary James O. Fraser. I am still reading the book, and am becoming more impressed with every page turn.

It is a well-written book. As a writer, I appreciate and notice that. But the topic of the writing jerks my attention away from the way it is written. Is that not the sign of a good writer, anyway?

This book oozes the "in-control-ness" of our God. I had never heard of James Fraser prior to reading this book, and now I wonder why. His life is amazing. Or, rather, the way he was used is amazing.

He let God use him.

That's it. He labored for several years in tucked-away corners of China, casting seed on dry cracked ground. Nothing happened. The tribal people could have been modern-day Americans for all the way they received the gospel. Whoever said the ignorant savages are hungry for truth and light was just plain mistaken. Satan loves his high places too well to give them up, and mankind loves his sin too well to accept the gospel.

But then James Fraser got a prayer group laboring for him back in England. He wrote each member of the prayer group separately, and they wrote to him. Listen to what he says to them. This blows me away; please read all of it:

"...I really believe that if every particle of prayer put up by the home churches in behalf of the infant churches of the mission field were removed, the latter would be swamped by an incoming flood of the powers of darkness. ...Just as a plant may die for lack of watering, so may a genuine work of God die and rot for lack of prayer.

"One might compare heathenism with a great mountain, threatening to crush the infant church, or a great pool of stagnant water always threatening to quench the flames of Holy Ghost life and power in the native churches, and only kept dammed up by the power of God. God is able to do this much and more, but He will not do it, if all we out here and you at home sit in our easy chairs with our arms folded. Why prayer is so indispensable we cannot just say, but we had better recognize the fact even if we cannot explain it. Do you believe that the church of God would be alive today but for the high-priestly intersession of the Lord Jesus Christ on the throne? I do not.

"...I will not labor the point: you will see from what I am saying that I am not asking you just to give "help" in prayer as a sort of side-line, but I am trying to roll the main responsibility of this prayer warfare on you. I want you to take the BURDEN of these people on your shoulders, I want you to wrestle with God for them. I do not so much want to be a regimental commander in these things as an intelligence officer. I shall feel more and more that a big responsibility rests on me to keep you well informed...

"...Anything must be done rather than let this prayer service be dropped or even allowed to stagnate. We often speak of intercessory work as of being vital importance. I want to prove that this is an actual fact, by giving my best energies to it, as God may lead."

And he did. This man spent hours in prayer, asking God to move among the Lisu people. He went among them, preaching the gospel, then would return to prayer. Out he would go, then return to prayer. Still nothing.

Finally, he went to spent some time in a Chinese city. While he was there, away from the mountains, God did His work.

On Jame's return to the mountains, the people sought out him, asking how to be saved. Family after family, village after village, came to him begging for preaching. He would enter a village where before was only hostility, and find that half the families had already torn down their idol shelves, and "decided to become Christians." They only waited on him to tell them how to do it. God brought them to birth - James Fraser was, as he put it "only the midwife."
I wish I could give each one of you the book to read. The details really explain everything. This historical account sends shivers down my spine. Look at what God can do without help!

That sound terrible, doesn't it? Of all the audacity! Of COURSE God can do things without our help! But do we really act that way?

I don't mean we aren't to witness and testify and work for the Master. That is only rightful obedience. What I mean is that we often forget our place. We often think we must produce the results. We think we must change a person's mind, by arguing, by different approaches, by anything we can use to change their mind. We wear ourselves out doing work we were never assigned!

Another thought that has been impressed on my heart is the willingness James Fraser had to wait for a harvest. During that long time of preparation - years of work - he would have times of discouragement, but always returned to this hope: he had sought the will of God, and prayer confidently that the Lisu people would come to Christ.

God would not disappoint.

Of this James was sure. So he labored on, confident that things were happening under the soil, where he could not see.

Any gardener knows that a plant sprung suddenly up will have no strong root system and will wither away at the first blast of trouble. A plant that spends a long time "doing things" below the soil will be strong and healthy when it sticks its head into the sunlight. Do we think God didn't do this on purpose? Did not the same God make the human heart and the green plant?

Through this book, I have been encouraged to have patience. I laugh at little people who dig up their seeds in an effort to hurry things along. How I should laugh at myself now! Did I think I could hurry God?

Well, these are things that have been going on in my mind. Perhaps they will comfort and inspire your heart as they have mine.

God bless,
Amber

Books and Friends

Books are wonderful things. There are no replacements for them; not movies, not radio, not oral speaking. Books are in a class by themselves.

Why do you think God chose a BOOK to be the only item in the world that is both physical and spiritual? The Bible alone has that special distinction. ...And the Bible is a book. To me, that means all books are something special, because between their covers there just might lie something that tastes faintly - or strongly - of God's own book.

But if you think about it, books are really people. I mean, you can't separate a book from all the circumstances surrounding its creation, the way it sounds, the way it reads, and say "I love it."

If you love a book, you've fallen in love with something about it; the story plot, the perfect grammar, the glass-clear instructions, the gorgeous illustrations, the word pictures painted in your mind, the humor that keeps you laughing, the suspense the kept you turning the pages, the tragic parts that made you cry... It is the way a book is put together - worded - that makes you love it.

That explains why you can love a splendidly-told story and hate a dry history book, or adore a well-written biography and detest a jibbery novel. Some speak to you politely, elegantly, kindly, and others are full of themselves.

What makes one book differ from another? What is this "voice" that each book has?

If you are sold on a book, what is it you have bought?

It is the author you have bought. It is the author's voice you hear. It is the author's personality that makes a dry subject fascinating, and a potentially good story ridiculous.

It is the author you have fallen in love with.

This is why books are people. You don't read a book; you read a heart.

And that is why when we love the Bible we find ourselves falling in love with God. The author and His work are inseparable. Books are truly friends, and we should be as careful with them as with other friendships.

Read a lot, yes. Meet people - all kinds of people. But for your heart-to-heart friends, chose jewels. Choose people who love what you love, and who love you. And chose books whose authors love what you love. Chose friends - and books - who will lift you up, not drag you down. Chose books - and friends - who will teach you, and who are going or have gone to places you want to go.

...Hmmm...when I started writing this post, I only meant to say a few words about books to introduce you to a new "friend;" a very dear book I have only half finished but am already in love with. The author is a dear lady, and her topic is the missionary life of her father, James O. Fraser. I wanted to quote some passages to you, so you could be blessed as I was. I have ten pages I want to type out and share in their entirety!

But, alas, time is precious, and I don't believe I have enough of it at the moment to complete the post I've started. I shall have to save it for a future day, and simply leave you with this thought:

When was the last time you made a new "friend"? Before I started this book I've mentioned, it had been awhile since I sat down with no other purpose but to read. Reading blogs and researching topics on the web isn't the same as a good book. ...But I'm so glad I slapped myself awake and decided to do myself some good by finding a likely-looking book to open. It's also been a long time since I was so blessed.

Try it.

Malawi and Music

Last night, a missionary family visited our church. They are raising support to go to Malawi, Africa.

I learned quite a bit about Malawi that I didn't know before. For example, I believe there are 13 million people in that country, and the geographical size of it is about equivalent to Tennessee. The people of Malawi are well known for their kindness and warmth; Malawi is known as "the warm heart of Africa."

The country of Malawi is amazingly poor. Though only 20% of the land is fit for farming, that is the way 90% of the people make a living. Our Pastor was a missionary for 25 years, and has been many times to the country of Romania. He says that the Romanians are very poor, but they are sending missionaries to Malawi, and the Romanians are amazed at the poverty there.

David Livingston opened the country of Malawi through his explorations. Because of his work, the slave trade in Malawi was eradicated. From that time, the country had been open to the gospel, but it has also been a sowing place for the seeds of deception. Numerous cults, as well as the Islam religion in recent years, have been established there. True Christianity is rare.

Despite this, the people there (in general) are very open to witnessing. Even the Islamic circles have not yet developed the hatred for Christianity that is found in other Islamic countries. It is said that the Malawi people are quick to believe when the gospel is explained to them. They just haven't heard before.

To see a field THIS white unto harvest makes my breath come quickly. What an opportunity! I am so glad this family is going there. And I'm glad I've had the blessing of meeting them, and getting to know them.

This family has seven girls, ranging in age from 12 to 22. They all sing, and six of them play instruments.

I don't remember if I've mentioned this before on my blog, but three of my siblings and I have joined together with three siblings from another family in our church to make a music group. The seven of us get together and practice almost every week, and whenever we can we do specials for church, visit nursing home-type places, or go out anywhere else we have an opening to play.

At the request of folks at our church, we've given our group a name; The King's Strings. Between the seven of us, we have two guitars (but three guitar players!), one banjo, one banjatar (a cross between a banjo and a guitar. Both of my brothers can play this), one violin, one flute, two mandolins, and three possible harmonicas (they don't all play at the same time). We also have a couple piano players amongst us, though that's not a very portable instrument. :)

The family visiting us had...oh, let's see...I think they had three guitars, one banjo, two violins, and four mandolins. Oh yes - the father can play the trumpet, and several of the girls can play piano.

...Can you guess where this is heading?

Yup; we had a deliriously fun time after the service was over. FIFTEEN instruments going at once! (One of my brothers was playing two at the same time, and one sibling who doesn't usually join in with The King's Strings decided to play the piano.)

One piano. One flute. One harmonica. One banjatar. Two banjos. Two violins. Four guitars. Three mandolins. (...or was it three guitars and four mandolins?)

Wow.

Talk about loud. Talk about complex! Talk about fun. We just played, and played, and played.

Missons Week, Day 5

There is something sad about admitting that our own precious country is in need of missionaries. But it is.

Today I'd like to introduce you to a family that is church-planting in a part of our country that is a spiritual desert. Until I met this family, I had no idea that there are many areas in the West where Bible-believing churches are so scarce that children can grow up never hearing God's name except as a curse word. I could hardly believe it when they spoke of meeting a young man, in a small town in Wyoming, who had no idea who Jesus was.

In America.

Our nation needs prayer. And we need to obey. Remember God's promise? If HIS people humble themselves, and pray, and seek His face, and turn from their wicked ways, THEN He will heal our land.

Sharing the gospel with others is one way of turning from our wicked ways - we are commanded to share, and if we do not, we are disobeying.

Please visit the King family's site today, and offer a prayer for them...and for our nation.

Missons Week, Day 4

"Today is exceptionally busy for me, so I don't have time for a long post. Missions week is fun but time-consuming!

Today, I'd like to know what missions projects you, my readers, are involved with right now. Passing out tracts? An unsaved friend you are praying for and witnessing to? A missionary you are corresponding with?

I'd like to know so I can pray for you. If you aren't involved someway, somehow, with something to spread the gospel, do some thinking and praying about it. It is the nature of a true Christian to reproduce."

Okay; this proves how busy today has been! I wrote out the above post, and had to leave the house before I could even finish. I guess I'll end with "good night."

Missons Week, Day 3

Welcome to Day 3 of our missions week. If you've missed the beginning posts in this series, just scroll down a little ways.

Today, I am asking you to pray for the three missionary families who were at our conference last night. All of them are on deputation, traveling around and asking churches to support them in prayer and finances. They are going to Nepal (involved with orphanages), Brazil (church planting), and Poland (teaching English).

It was fun to see the three missionaries meet one another, and to see their children talking to each other. The diversity of ways there are to spread the gospel is quite exciting. Each one of these families are going to be ministering in a different country, and in a different way, but they all have a heart to spread the gospel. Please pray for them as they prepare for the field.

Also, please pray for the people they are going to reach. Their hearts need to be softened and prepared to receive the gospel.

Missons Week, Day 2

Today, continuing our missions week, I invite you to visit the blog of a missionary wife and mother of five. This family is supported by our church, and my family has had the pleasure of meeting and fellowshipping with them on a few occasions. We were so excited for them when they reached the field in February this year!

Please get to know this family a little bit, through Ms. Nina's blog, then pause and pray for them. Being new in Portugal, they have special challenges; new language and culture being only two.

This year my family was able to get to know a German family that was spending some time in the states, and when I tried to share my testimony with the mother of that family, I realized for the first time what a hindrance language barriers are when you're trying to witness.

I had learned three or four German words, and the lady had learned a great deal of English. She was really quite good; but secular language school apparently doesn't teach words like "grace," "atonement," "substitute," "wrath," "judgment," "court," and "salvation." How does one present the gospel message without using religious words? It was practically impossible.

But cultural and language difficulties are minor compared to the biggest spiritual needs of a missionary - or any Christian, for that matter. They need spiritual strength. They need grace and wisdom. Just like me.

So take some time to think about the missionaries you know. Pray for them. Pray also for the souls of the people they talk with; that their hearts would be prepared to seek the Lord.

This Week...

...Our church has started our annual mission conference.

Every year we have been blessed with a Spirit-anointed guest speaker at our conference, and this year is no different. Pastor Alun McNabb has already been a great blessing to us, when he spoke at church yesterday.

The focus of our meetings is not missionaries alone; rather, the purpose of the conference is two-fold. We meet and fellowship with some of our missionaries (or new missionaries), so that we are better able to pray for them and, most emphasized, we search our own hearts and come before God in order to be equipped for our own missionary lives.

In regards to the first focus, I've decided that I'd like to share with y'all some of the missionaries we pray for, and ask you to offer a prayer for them this week. If only ten of you do this, and I share a new missionary five days this week, that's 50 more times that the throne room of Heaven has been entered in behalf of these missionaries!

Today I invite you to visit the site of the Zwingles. My family has been blessed by getting to know this couple personally. They have a burden for the country of Russia, and they are both filled with zeal and energy; ...and it's contagious! Please browse their site to let them tell you about themselves in their own words, and then pause for a moment and pray for them.

Now...in regards to the second focus of our mission week; our own hearts....

Every day, I am learning more of the importance of this matter. My own missionary life. The life of a missionary and the life of a Christian are the same. I am called to preach the gospel to every creature. How, where, and when differs for every Christian, but we are all called.

All.

I wish you could all feel the atmosphere in our church family right now. We have been praying and praying for the Lord to burden our hearts for the lost, and to make us witnesses. I believe the Lord might answer our prayers soon - maybe even this week.

I've been praying for revival in my life, and telling people that I want it, and telling God I want it... I've also been acting as if "revival" was some mysterious thing. As if it only happens when you get worked up enough, serious enough, spiritual enough.... and in the end, only God decides if you're dedicated enough to receive revival.

But reading through my Bible recently, I've made a personal discovery that is quite life-changing.

I started spotting people in the Bible who were spirit-filled. People like David, Joshua, Josiah, Paul, Stephen...people who were used by God. People who had personal revival.

There was a common factor in all their lives.

It was so simple, it blew me away.

They obeyed.

They obeyed.

They obeyed.

They all had a enormous delight in God's law. They all knew God's law. They knew His Word backwards and forwards.

They all broke the Ten Commandments; and knew it.

But they obeyed this command; Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy might. EVERY time they sinned, the repented with bitter tears. They went back to the narrow way, and walked therein.

It was so simple. God used those who obeyed.

I'm not talking about obeying to earn salvation; that's another matter. I'm talking about which Christians are used of God to do mighty works. Isn't that real revival? Being used? The ones used were the ones who obeyed. Not the ones who were mysteriously spiritual. Not the ones who prayed long prayers (though they all were pray-ers).

Salvation isn't given to those who try their own ways, but to those who use the Way God has set out in His Word. Likewise, I believe revival isn't given mysteriously to those who are "spiritual enough," but those who obey what they have learned.

Picture it. A Christian who is constantly witnessing. He is kind and loving. He is not easily angered. He assembles with the believers every chance he gets. He tithes. He keeps the sabbath day holy. He obeys those in authority over him. He cares for the poor and widows. He guards his tongue. He searches the scriptures. He humbles himself. He loves the Lord with all his heart, and his every action shows it. Wouldn't we say this is a revived Christian? Yet all he's doing is obeying.

God promises to save all who come to Him; He will in nowise cast them out. He also promises to bless those who obey. He blessed David with revival. He blessed Joshua with revival. He blessed Josiah. He blessed Paul. He blessed Stephen.

Why didn't I see this before? Lord, forget about making me "extra spiritual." Forget about making my prayer life amazingly complex and flowery. Forget about making me perfectly poised in every situation. Just help me obey!!!!

When was the last time YOU passed out a tract?

If you have any heart for the Lord at all, you can't help but be moved by this:


Christians Attacked, Children Beaten for Distributing Bible Tracts:

" On April 2, pastors and members of the Manna Ministry in Krishnapuram, Andhra Pradesh, were beaten by a group of 20 Hindu extremists.
"Believers were returning from an evangelistic outreach when their car was stopped by the attackers. One of the ministry's leaders, Pastor Gopal, sustained serious injuries. The militants also tore up the Christians' evangelistic tracts."
Ask God to heal Pastor Gopal. Meanwhile, on March 17, school children from Toopran School in Telungana Village, Andhra Pradesh, were threatened and beaten by Hindu extremists while they were distributing Bible tracts in the school compound.
"A group of Hindu extremists stopped the school children from further distribution of tracts. The extremists beat the children and threatened them."
Pray believers in Telungana Village will be encouraged and protected. Pray that Indian Christians will continue to share the gospel with boldness despite increased persecution. Ask God to use their testimonies to draw nonbelievers into fellowship with Him."

I got this from my sister's mission blog. You can visit her at http://pray-without-ceasing.blogspot.com/