what Norman Rockwell forgot (or, the Webb FamFest 2014)

every year, there is this special day in America where we celebrate good food, all the good things we have, the bad things we don't, and the long-held family traditions.

we call it Thanksgiving.

a perfect, massive turkey with all the dressings, served from the left by a petite brunette weighing no more than 125 pounds to a manly man, head of the household as he proudly surveys his brood of perfectly behaved children, all eager to share their loving reflections of this past year and hopes for the year coming.  their hair is perfectly arranged and the china is gleaming. 

HA!

sorry- that was the Norman Rockwell poster that was probably true for one family once.  it was not our family. ever. but tell you the truth, i'm mostly okay with that.  if a picture is worth a thousand words, he captured 1,000 excellent, lovely, true words of what it means to belong to an American family.  this nation is truly blessed and i love the idea of celebrating and setting time aside solely to remember these blessings and praise the source of them all. 

i also love all the other stuff that can't fit into a painting.  what makes each family unique, what makes the best stories.  that family NR painted ain't got nothing on ours!

here's what Norman Rockwell forgot:

the full story of Turkey Day starts several hundred miles earlier, where every good American joins all the bad Americans in the craziest dance ever, all the players surrounding themselves with literal tons of metal and fly in all directions, all over the nation, going many, many miles per hour.

now, i love people.  what i DON'T love is people in cars. they are 5,000 of the 5,010 reasons I adore driving overnight.  the crazies aren't there.  they steer with one hand and with the other, they are eating, or drinking (a variety of liquids), changing radio stations, taking medications, changing clothes, shopping, video-chatting, texting, singing, screaming cuss words at the GPS, cutting nails, or slapping children in the backseat. 

funny: the telepathic mind games we play so we can edge our way in front of that Handicapped-license-plated lady in the old Ford car so we can set our cruise control and just GO.

funnier: the horrible knowledge that it does not matter what speed you set your cruise control to.  Eventually, the Handicapped lady, and the jerk in the jacked-up pickup truck are going to realize that you are "first" and that this is not "fair" and they ABSOLUTELY MUST BE IN FRONT OF YOU.  one of them will get in front of you, and then set THEIR cruise control for 2 mph less than you and refuse to go in the slower lane.

funniest: knowing that it also does not matter what state you are in, or what the sign says, be it 70, 65, 60, or 70 again.  the traffic pace does not change one whit.  you find that Handicapped lady's back bumper and stick to it.  set your cruise control to hers, and don't fight it.  

laws mean nothing when a good family vacation is at stake.  speed limits, state borders, and let's not forget our favorite: that moment when you are soaring down the middle lane of a 5-lane highway that is splitting into 2 highways, and suddenly a big ole' minivan realizes that they are one lane to your left, but they NEED TO BE IN THE FAR, FAR, RIGHT-EST LANE RIGHT NOW.  they need to stay on Interstate 40, not Interstate 81, and they ignored all the miles of signs, warning lights, GPS and Mapquest directions, backseat drivers and all the other cars who spent their time productively by safely and calmly getting into the proper lane.  NOPE.  let's just play with people's lives in our new, fun version of the Russian Roulette.

eventually, hopefully, you will arrive at the predetermined relatives' home, feeling, looking, and smelling just like you think you would, after being trapped in a metal, mobile cubicle for countless hours. good thing relatives are never stressful.  if you're in my family, you don't need to wait until The Feast before diving right on in to the arguments- we had the Pre-Feast Dinner.  Picture half a dozen people.  some with Law degrees, some with art or English degrees, some with NO degrees, all with opinions, debating huge controversial issues.  nobody in our family has an "indoor" voice.  we have 2 settings- Loud, and Louder. we all have opinions, and the presence or lack of food in our mouths doesn't change the opinion or the need to immediately share it with everyone, who is doing the same thing.  we sound like animals- we're not, i promise.  

i think just about every family that sets time aside during the year to get together has SOME sort of family tradition.  some families have the tradition of having NO tradition, but for some reason it's those traditions that draw them together even if they seem to do the opposite. 

for example: we used to have no other tradition besides just getting together every Thanksgiving.  one year, my athletically inclined uncle said "hey- this is a fabulous time on a fabulous day with some fabulous weather-let's go on a fabulous walk together." so we did, and at least 2 of us had a truly fabulous experience.

the next year, he said "hey- this is a fabulous day with some fabulous weather, so let's continue our fabulous tradition of a Thanksgiving Walk."  yeah- they pulled out the Tradition word.  the siblings and i looked at each other, saying "what is this 'tradition' that you speak of?" but we all went anyway.

you see what just happened there? yeah- see, now it WAS A TRADITION.

and because breaking traditions in our family is like sacrilege, it is now decreed that every Thanksgiving, our family goes on our annual Walk. 

i just need to share this moment from our Walk this year, which was about as miserable as possible.  one sister that i drove 800 miles to see busted her knee, so she, sadly, couldn't come. poor thing.  the other sister had a baby to feed, and the grandparents weren't up to it, and neither was the aunt.  family politics were suddenly a huge deal, and i convinced my brother to come (either because he loves me, or is a complete sucker for my Sad Puppy Dog Face) so i'd have someone to talk to.  then strategy came into play and we changed the speed of our walking to position ourselves with the "right" relatives, as all those relatives were doing the exact same thing. don't deny it- EVERY family does this, in some form or fashion.

well, sometimes the Weather Pixies don't really care about your family traditions, which is why smart people check the weather forecast to see whether it is compatible with these traditions so dear to our hearts. 

we didn't.  nobody checked the forecast.  but daggum, we were going on that Walk!! 

which started with a steep uphill climb.

then it started raining. 

then my hands went numb.

then the family members caught on to our pace and tried to catch up. 

then we were all miserable and turned around early. Joel and I power-walked/jogged back as fast as we could, which wasn't too fast because i'd donated blood a day before and was bent over double- but still way faster than anyone else because this was the worst Thanksgiving Walk ever, and i was on the verge of a breakdown by the time we sloshed, soaking wet, back indoors after almost 4 miles of rain, cold, and avoiding each other in the sneakiest manner possible.

this of course, leads up to the actual holiday part.  we all borrow clothes, throw the wet ones in the dryer, and scatter all over the house into the groups of people that will cause the least amount of stress, to talk politics, watch movies, play blocks with the baby and toddler, take pictures, take naps, or help prepare The Feast. i am so good at dumping and smashing ingredients together.  i should get a medal.  Aunt Kathy gets The Bird ready to go and I lay claim to that left drumstick.  4 hours later the feast is spread.  4 minutes after that- carnage. i was somehow the second to last person to go through line, but i did get the drumstick.  because we got all the fighting out of our systems, between last night and the Walk, we get down to the serious business of eating.  that's what Thanksgiving is for, right?  well, we take this quite seriously, and happen to be excellent at eating. we are stuffed before the food is quite gone, but somehow manage to take care of those desserts, too.

a while ago, Jackson was blessed to host a couple of our Brazilian  translators as they were visiting the US for a while and decide to bop on up for a few days.  a favorite moment while discussing the cultural differences was their facial expressions as we tried to explain a good ole' American Thanksgiving weekend, which isn't over until

BLACK FRIDAY.

America at its finest, folks.  word of advice: DON'T STAND NEAR THOSE KITCHEN APPLIANCES, or you WILL get mowed down by that overzealous grandmother tearing through the store to get her greedy hands on the last crockpot on sale.  i mean, it's not like Thanksgiving is all about celebrating all the good things we have or anything… oh wait.  take that family picture before bed Thursday, because come Friday 3 am, we as a general public, devolve into stark-raving mad lunatics.  the idea that people have actually DIED by being trampled by the masses still astounds me.

but there are a few things that Rockwell managed to capture.  the aprons, bobby pins and ancient clothing fashion trends are gone, but the feelings he painted are timeless.

like, that family that is so easy to take for granted- they're there.  sometimes that's good, and sometimes you just have to laugh, knowing that one day you'll look back and be thankful that memory is so far past.  the Walk is one of those.  i love how it was during that exact timeframe, when my fingernails were legit blue and my shirt soaked, that 3 of my favorite extra-familial people called or texted to check in on me.  one real-time selfie answered all their questions.  but they were there for me, too, just like family of a different sort, and part of what we celebrate even if the celebrating appears to be lost in all the chaos. and i got a lot to celebrate.

i got sister time- long, late hours of it.  i got brother time- short and brief, but still there.  i will get, soon, my own personal copy of The Webb Family Picture, which is another tradition, and another moment to laugh about- later.  much, much later.  i got moments with some pretty great people that i haven't seen in ages, and even a few more pictures for proof that we were in the same place at the same time! i got 20+ hours of driving time, time spent singing loudly for nobody to hear, time spend to pray, time spent just to be quiet, still, breathe.  i got Pilot coffee.  i got to relive memories of some of my favorite people ever who now live all up and down I-40, as i passed their towns and cities.

we're all pretty good at complaining, but i gotta say we do know how to celebrate the good things, and maybe once i've recovered from the Walk in about a year, i'll once more join those crazies barreling down I-40 to do this all over again.

to remember- the good, the bad/weird/confusing/embarrassing.  to celebrate- freedom, family (all kinds of family, not just biological), food (stay away from my drumstick).  

i'll be the one hugging that old handicapped, speed-demon lady's bumper.

two birthdays at once!

i'm sitting here in the living room on the largest couch ever, staring at a 6-foot Christmas tree plastered with all the decorations we could get from Goodwill, with strings of lights around the walls that just take this experience to a whole new magical level.

i know people are "supposed" to wait until after Thanksgiving before it's proper to play Christmas music or decorate, but this is plenty close enough for me.  my roomie has friends over to help decorate anyway, so now that the hard work is done we are watching our favorite Christmas flick- Elf.  yup. it's okay to be jealous.

i'm not usually too much into holidays, but there really is something about Christmas. i've heard all about how Jesus couldn't possibly have been born in December, and how the Wise Men couldn't possibly have made it until Jesus was 2 year old and back at home (although i heard the theory that they had a head start and actually were at the stable in Bethlehem. either way, i'm easy), but however the whole thing went down, the point is that- it went down.  it actually happened.  a larger-than-time Being somehow became a human, broke through time and space and landed in the middle of nowhere surrounded by an entire nation of people worn out after 400 years of oppression and spiritual darkness.  Christmas set off  the hugest thing to ever happen to earth.  all so that we could do what we were meant to do- give God the glory He deserves through the relationship soon to be restored.

now that's the kind of birthday that you celebrate every chance you get, even weeks in advance.  if Hobby Lobby can keep their ornaments out on shelves since July, then if we made it almost to Thanksgiving before Elf, i think we're doing pretty well.

now, this year- today in particular- i'm a bit more sentimental towards birthdays, mostly because His birthday is the only reason i'm celebrating my own birthday today as well.

it's been 5 years.  not everybody gets to turn 5 twice, and even fewer remember when they did- either time.  i've got a lot of memories that i'd be okay with not ever remembering, but there's one at least that i hope to hold on to forever.  forever and ever, if i can help it.  it's the one good memory that blots out the others i don't need.  after so many years of struggle and doubt and debate and confusion that were all pointing me straight to my own grave, there were a handful of faithful friends who fought back, quite valiantly, because i wasn't really able to fight.  i was a bit useless, i must say, so i'm glad i was surrounded by people who had all their spiritual armor on. 

so every year, this day in particular, i like to just chill.  and remember.  and say thank you. to the friends, to the family, to the church, all of whom God used to work out a plan as huge on the personal level as the first Christmas was on a world-wide level.  He rocked my world that day, and i just think it's awesome how so many others were able to share in it. so:

To FBCJ (in particular) but my whole Church family (in general):

it's been 5 years since a scared hopeless little lamb  entered the Fold and accidentally became a member of FBCJ. not once have i ever regretted that- there were just other things on my mind that day ;)

this Thanksgiving season, there's not much i'm more thankful for than my church family.  i've been given a biological family, a work family, and a church family, and am blessed to have some people a part of more than one of them. the FBCJ crew is the local subset of a much larger group who are included in my thanks, my memories, my thoughts.

to reiterate what the pastor and several others said last week,

thank you.

thank you for being the ones who listened, prayed, cried, spoke.

thank you for sharing your lives, thoughts, families, Cubbies, food, homes, time, love.

thank you for opening your arms, your doors, your hearts.

for being there when no one else was,

for walking beside me when i couldn't stand

for praying when i had no more words to say,

for always, always, always pointing straight to the Cross

for showing me the Jesus i'd heard of but never seen before, and

and for continuing to do so ever since. 

the end :)

"i can't today"

i told myself "i can't today.

i'm stuffed with burger and ice cream sundae.

i don't have the strength; i'm not in the mood

to run in a gym full of gross sweaty dudes.

one more piece of my life just withered away,

crying 'cause i don't even know how to pray."

the frigid trip there is at least half of the pain-

if you've done it before, you can do it again.

all the old rules, of course, still apply:

you keep on running til you can no longer cry.

plug in the iPod, let the songs be your prayer.

whip out the sweat rag, pull back the hair.

chase your reflection each tenth of a mile,

every step, every breath one more reason to smile.

the sweat  and the tears soon you can't tell apart,

and you feel the shirt vibrate as fast as your heart.

let go of the cares-they're just weighing you down.

ignore the hair frizz, that undignified crown.

don't stop to assess, take a break or a drink.

there's more in you than you could hope, wish or think.

find it and haul it out- put it to use.

it's oh-so-much stronger than Gatorade juice.

the Spirit that prays when you can't on your own

is the one who won't ever just leave you alone;

He holds you together and gives your feet wings,

who looks down from heaven and over us sings.

we've all got our "treadmill" that laughs in our face

when we're fresh out of strength, patience, hope, faith and grace.

whatever the trial, no matter its size,

the victory's coming- run after the prize.

if you've told yourself you "just can't" today,

get up on the treadmill now anyway.

i'm 1000% sure you'll be totally okay-

and you might accidentally run a 5K :)

sticks and stones and dead men's bones

I love those moments when a thought just pops up, a question just burns in your brain, or a revelation suddenly arises that makes you smile.  these moments, for me anyway, are rare, which i guess is part of why they're so special.

good glory, i hope this makes sense to whoever reads it.

I was considering again moments from my past and how in so many ways, for so many years i was nothing more than a modern-day Pharisee.  my early life revolved around following rules, codes, standards and policies that would make any Saul of Tarsus proud.  we would have had to add a whole second row of tassels on our robes, and heaven forbid we not tithe every single penny we received from our weekly allowance, which when we were 5 years old, was 25 cents.  so we were also good at math- which is a given (i forget which tab "homeschool" fits under- i think either "standards" or "codes"- but included was the Thou Shalt Succeed decree.  failure was not an option). we were filled with guilt if we forgot to tithe, do our morning devotions (because to do it in the evenings, or even after breakfast was classified as "wrong"), or even have too much Apple Cinnamon Cheerios with our plain Cheerios.  like the front-row Pharisees of old, we were generally applauded by peers and looked up to in our teeny tiny Christian community as being role-models. 

and also like the front-row Pharisees of old, i was even more tangled than those tassels, caught up in the little things but missing the big picture.  missing it entirely.  everything good about the Gospel buried under the rulebooks. plagued by doubt, fear of failure, shame, the need to please others, justification through the Law of Moses.  and the Law of Mom.  i'm not even sure which one i held in higher regard, to be honest.

so, just like the front-row Pharisees, i turned into a blind and bitter "Christian," with no answers for the situations i was trying to fix but couldn't.

in one of the last discourses Jesus gave in Jerusalem, in that last week before his impending execution, Jesus suddenly goes off on those front-row Pharisees, ripping to shreds their rules, codes, standards and policies.  he calls them children of hell.  a brood of vipers. hypocrites. blind guides. 

whitewashed tombs. absolutely stunning on the outside, gorgeous rocks, gardens, plants, probably markers or nameplates to remember their loved ones locked away inside.  on the inside, well, there are the loved ones' bones.  corruption. decay.  germs galore. a stench to turn even this nurse's stomach.

…

umm.  yeah.  Jesus said that. to the front-row, super-spiritual religious elites.  a tomb. a pretty vessel chock full of DEATH.

you're probably looking for the encouraging part now, right?  good- here it is.

i just went back and confirmed the timing on this speech of his, and when i flipped back and forth a couple times between Matthew 23 and John 10 and 11, you see something pretty cool.

immediately before the Triumphant Entry, something absolutely epic happens.

he receives word that one of his best friends in the town of Bethany (2 miles away from Jerusalem, and one of Jesus' stopping points) in on his deathbed and Jesus' healing is required immediately. 

so Jesus….doesn't go.  he waits. for 2 whole days.

Lazarus, unknown to the messenger, is probably already dead before Jesus hears of this, because by the time Jesus shows up the mourning is in full swing and the body has already been cleaned, prepared and locked in the grave for 4 days.

Lazarus's sisters, Mary and Martha, both have separate conversations with Jesus on his arrival.  Jesus asks to see Lazarus's body, and Mary, full of grief, confusion, impeccable common sense, says, "Eww. Jesus, that's gross."

Martha had already run out to meet him, and also to question why he refused to come earlier to save them from this incredible pain. 

Jesus then takes this fantastic opportunity to boot her faith up several levels and tells her :

"your brother will rise again."

Martha said to him, "i know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day."

Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die."(John 11: 23-27)

then He walks right up to that beautiful tomb full of a dead man's bones, convinces several hesitant guys to roll the stone away, and then demands that those dead man's bones get up and walk on out.  and they do. 

the Resurrection had come.

a short amount of time later, that Resurrection was in the Jews' religious center- Jerusalem, speaking to a synagogue's worth of tombs, calling them what they were, angry at their sin, condemning it, calling it out.

but just as importantly, offering life to any of those dead bones who would step out and receive it.  

He's shouting out: HEY!! you're DEAD!  but true life is LITERALLY RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!!

i have very little doubt that many of those Pharisees hearing that speech hadn't heard about Lazarus.  a bunch of them were likely there at the tomb and had witnessed firsthand what happens when Jesus gets too close to graves and talks to them.  those who weren't there, were told immediately by those who were (John 11:45-47).  the whole episode at Lazarus' re-birthday was meant to bring the spiritually dead to a new spiritual life, just as his speech to them in Jerusalem days later, with this miracle fresh in their minds. 

i remember that day when, -after months of wrestling together through these incredibly difficult issues and circumstances surrounding me, shedding tears and prayers, talking and listening- my pastor and i had reached a point where he called my salvation into question, citing as proof the guilt, anger, self-righteousness and pride that had become so evident.  and i suddenly, immediately felt the immense burden of sin- MY sin- that i'd never realized before.   i looked down that night at my shaking hands wringing out another tissue and envisioned the blood dripping off them, the spiritual death i'd caused, how far i had strayed.  how much sin could be covered up and made to look oh-so-spiritual.  how the mask of religious piety was nothing more than a death mask, hiding the corpse of a soul lurking underneath.  i was a whitewashed tomb, choking on all the crud that filled me up.

but that calling-out wasn't just a judgment.  it was an invitation. this tomb's bones were finally ready to be introduced to the Resurrection and to be summoned from the depths of the grave, out into the light.  i knew the theology and was kinda ticked by Jesus' timing, just like Martha.  i had so many questions i wanted answers to, just like Mary. i had a stone-cold heart and eyes blinder than a bat, just like a Pharisee. 

but the Resurrection had come.  to me.  called me by name.  and i changed from a Pharisee, a Saul, a tomb, into a Lazarus, a Mary, a Martha with eyes opened now to a whole new life.

cool things happen when Jesus talks to rocks. and if there are any other front-row Pharisees out there, i hope you hear him calling you out of your tombstone, too.

your Resurrection is here.  it's calling.  are you going to remain inside your whitewashed tomb or are you going to step out when you hear your Resurrection and Life beckoning you?

head down, hands up

there is a short list of hymns and songs that have had quite an impact on my life, one of them being "I Surrender All," specifically Brian Littrell's version, because that's the one on the CD i bought, never imagining how that WOW Hymns music would affect me.

i still remember that moment- that cool fall night in October 2009 when i was utterly fed up with a crap load of circumstances that i couldn't control or change or easily deal with.  i slammed those nursing textbooks shut with great vigor and took to the almost deserted sidewalks of campus with the cheap iPod i had and just walked for ages, listening to these modernized hymns, knowing there were something in them that i was missing- just having no idea what it was.  then this song came on for about the thousandth time, right at the very end of the walk.  i collapsed against the decorative column outside the dorm and just listened.

didn't try to figure anything out. 

didn't try to over-think anything or understand. 

i just listened.  and then it hit me- and i understood. or at least understood a bit more.

the ASL sign for "surrender" is literally throwing both hands up over your head, palms open and upward.  now, no matter how big and strong your hands are, whatever is in them is up for the taking.  you can't hold anything back without getting carpal tunnel, can't even keep a pencil without seriously cramping that pinky. 

you. can't. keep. anything.

when good old Brian was singing "I surrender all," he meant ALL.  EVERYTHING.  which is a whole lot, people.  it's everything. it's actually more than every single thing- it's not just things.  "Everything" includes the not-things as well.  they're not tangible, they're invisible, have no weight, don't fill up a backpack like they fill up a life, yet need to be shoved onto the altar as well.

what hit me was all the not-things that i'd been holding on to.  not-things like self-esteem... grades... importance... my sanity.  (well, that last one was borderline).  some anger and frustration. the "need" for control.  emotions, ideas, circumstances, plans, dreams, motivations.  my altar up until that point was just too small. some of the not-things had slipped off the edge and fallen back within reach of my hands which were only half-heartedly in the surrendering pose, eager to maintain control of those few bits of my chaotic life that i could still grasp.

surrendering means you don't get to control things. you control NONE of the things.  head down, hands up, palms facing the sun, over your head- you're not really in a good position for taking, negotiating, bargaining, bossing, begging.

it's a really good position for obeying, however.

Abraham's defining moment only happened because he was (spiritually speaking), in a surrendering position.  he heard, "You need to surrender ALL," and he opened his hands over his head, with every thing and every not-thing in his palms and said, "take it.  take it all.  i can't hold on to any of it." 

i'm willing to bet those hands were shaking a bit when he heard the "all" that was required of him.  giving up his entire future, his life, his crowning achievement, his social status, his sanity, his ethical code- that and even more.  it was all hanging in the balance.

he wasn't given a guarantee, like, "hey- if you pretend to give this up to Me, i'll give it all back and then some by this date." 

he was given a command. "surrender this. to me. here."

head down, hands up.

he walked like that all the way to the mountain.  all the way up the mountain. building the altar.  all the way until the knife was up in the air.  

the neat thing is that once your hands are empty of the things and the not-things,- when it's all surrendered and gone,- they're empty to be filled by all things and more.  it sounds a bit contradictory at first, and some times it looks downright heretical or backwards or wrong. putting your kid on a handmade stone altar, with a lit torch in one hand, blade in the other- probably not what the heathen-turned-faith champ was expecting, especially because the God who GAVE him that impossible miracle kid now wants him BACK.

understanding isn't part of it.  obeying is.  obeying is all of it.  i probably won't get a ram for a Christmas present this year. but there are promises that i have that not even Abraham had.  it's just those promises come after the altar.

time to get these hands off the keyboard and up in the air. time to climb the mountain and make that altar a bit bigger again.  time to surrender again, obey again.

head down, hands up.

a moment (Brazil 2014, part I)

i'm finally getting around to writing some of what i meant to write a month ago, or at least fleshing out some thoughts and ideas. 

if anyone has an idea of how to post things like PowerPoint to a blog, let me know.  until then, i'll just have to copy, paste, and keep typing ;)  you know b  now i can't stop after just a paragraph or two!   i spend for-freaking-ever on collecting some of my favorite pictures and memories into a PowerPoint, because i far enough behind in the tech realm to do it any other way, and now i can't find a way to share it with anyone outside my church. i just now- literally, JUST NOW- figured out how to add a couple pictures to these blog-things!! :P
see- look at this!! look!!!!!!

(*savors moment of victory*) anyway. well, here's an effort to put some words into what some of you have seen from the facebook pictures, or if you haven't seen them… here's some words.  :P

one of the many "little" things we saw (or specifically, did NOT see) was the rain.  our first full day in Brazil was completely overcast and featured quite the downpour that several Brazilians said was abnormal, even though this is their winter.  in years past, we have often spent a bit of our first sunday in getting some of the block-laying work done, so give us a head start on monday.  this year, however, it just was not possible.  not at all.  all our organizing of materials happened- indoors in a room the size of a shoebox- as somehow, about 35 suitcases and as many bodies squeezed in there to get sorted and shuffled around.  but 30 seconds outside, and you could forget the idea of being dry.

so instead of working, the other church members we were with brought some guitars and inside the adjacent old building immediately behind the work site, they just started singing.  and we sang along. and kept on singing. and singing.  and then when we had to go back to our hotel, we all took turns with a "popcorn prayer," celebrating the work that we knew would be done, praying the rain stopped soon- but celebrating, knowing that very good work of some type WOULD be done, regardless of whether or not the rain came or went.  and that's all we got done that day.

 

monday morning there were maybe 2 tiny, wispy, little clouds visible, and a couple puddles.  that. was. it.   what a "Hallelujah" went up that morning as we gathered around a pile of blocks, ready to get to work!

at least 2 days, there were some sprinkles while we were eating breakfast at the hotel, but each day it stopped before we were on the bus.  on friday, there was a brief but intense, shower during our on-site devotional when Ms Sue was sharing the gospel with the workers, but the roof was already on the chapel and was doing what every good roof does- keep the rain off everything we needed to stay dry.

and then, on at least 2 of those work days, we looked up and saw the brightest, clearest rainbows i've ever witnessed. and by standing on top of the old building behind the chapel, we were able to see the entire rainbow- almost 180 degrees of color, stretching from one tree-line horizon on the left to the opposite tree-line horizon on the right.  the biggest one was even a double rainbow, that just seemed to be centered right over our worksite.   the work day was almost over, but i still just had to take several minutes to stand up there,

above the trees,

above the work,

above all the other team members,

above the noise,

above the food and friends and fun and VBS and translators and street-preaching/praying  and everything else happening. 

my feet were stuck up there, and i didn't fight it.  i just stood there, free to… just stand there and stare at a giant rainbow.  the rainbow was stuck too, and didn't go away for quite a while.  so i didn't, either.

next time you see a rainbow,- or a sunset, or a flower, or some "insignificant" momentary sliver of nature,- that’s asking to take your breath away, stop whatever you’re doing and let it. 

just let it.

what would happen if you just let it?  what if you really did, literally, just:

put down the book, pull over the car, take the conversation outside- or just stop talking for a minute.  SMELL THAT ROSE- do it.  pick up the pretty leaf… do it.  take the stale loaf of bread and feed that fat, domesticated duck at the pond. just do it. i wonder how much i miss out on because my non-brazilian moments are so full, that i forget the value of having a moment that’s nothing more than me and Jesus sharing a rainbow. 

what else does a moment need?

surrounded

it is so hard to wrap my mind around some things: what the world looks like to a bumblebee, how a plane flies across oceans, SmartPhones that are smarter than me, how an invisible virus or a tiny pill can have incredible effects in a body, and the idea that right now, as i sit in my air-conditioned room near all the comforts of a first-world town there are, on the other side of the planet, hundreds of humans hiding in caves and mountains.  hiding from other humans.  eating anything near-edible, drinking anything wet they can find.  sanitation and hygiene are a dream.  in every direction, there are enemies offering an impossible choice: surrender your God, or die. 

my first thought was one of confused wonder at how vicious people can be, how far they will take their anger at God and attempt to defeat Him by forcing His people to cave to their demands.

my second thought was just wonder… and anticipation.

everyone, even non-religious folks, knows the popular Bible stories and all kinds of illusions to Noah's Ark, Jonah, the Nativity, and a handful of the "really cool" ones.

but one of my favorite stories is one you don't hear much about, tucked away in the middle of a chapter in II Kings:

daily life in the East. a cruddy king ruled the nation, people did whatever they wanted, their first faith pretty much abandoned and the easiest person to blame was the prophet, who was just trying to bring his nation back to God. every year nations would go to war and fight over cities, livestock, trade routes, people, money and gods. faith was an integral part of the early humans' life.  they saw a clear connection between the physical and spiritual.  if the Philistines won the battle against the Moabites, then clearly Dagon was a better god than Baal, and if you offer enough sacrifices to either, neither, or both, your fortune will change.

problem: Dagon and Baal got nothin' on Jehovah, forgotten though He may be. and then Elisha, the prophet given the massive task of awakening Israel to this revelation- God hasn't forgotten you; return to Him and your basket of blessings will overflow. follow your own way, and He will let you- just know it's got some undesirable side effects.

so one fine spring Syria, who's been antagonizing Israel decides to take out  the city Elisha is residing in at the time- he knows too much, he's rooting for the "wrong" God, and they'll prove it by taking him out.

so Elisha and his assistant wake up one morning and see what would make any normal human tremble.

the whole city is surrounded.  soldiers, horses, and chariots beyond counting. there's no possible way out. the choice: surrender, or die. 

Elisha's servant feels the knot in his stomach, looks at his master and says (loosely paraphrased), "what the crap are we gonna do?!?!"

and Elisha just smiles and says, "nothing."  he just knows God's got this.  so he just prays, "God… let. him. see."

God answered- he saw.  all of a sudden, the barrier between visible and invisible, physical and spiritual, real and REAL- was ripped to shreds.  the sunlight paled in comparison to the newfound vision the servant now had.  he saw the soldiers. he saw the horses. he saw the massive army blocking the entire city in…

but the mountain that he and Elisha were standing on was completely full of a far more formidable army.  chariots of fire, surrounding them, encasing them and protecting them, against which nothing could stand.

Elisha prayed again, God struck the human Syrian army with blindness and confusion, and Elisha led them off to a completely different city before they realized they'd been duped and made a spectacle of themselves and their "god."

that army is still out there.  ISIS will know. they can force Nazarenes to their knees and make them say whatever they want about God, claim that Allah is greater and has won this battle, but…

that army is still out there. 

they may seem invisible, or impotent, or absent-

but i know that those mountains in Iraq are full of chariots of fire. 

i still can't smile like Elisha, and my blood pressure is probably rising more than his did over this desperate situation,  but underneath the horror stories there are glimpses, however brief or dim, glimpses of those angel soldiers keeping watch over their charges. 

i pray for eyes to be opened to the bigger Reality. for food and water to reach those who are clinging to their faith more than to physical life, but also that they see those chariots and know that they are not forgotten- by us or by God.  for the eyes of the terrorists be blinded and for them to leave- and then to realize that there is only one true God who protects His people and avenges all wrong in His own time. for the spiritually blind ISIS members to see the Way, the Truth and the Life, to drop their weapons and find mercy and grace on the only mountain it comes from; for them to run to Calvary, not Mecca and choose forgiveness and life over hatred and death.  

that army is still out there- you are surrounded!  which army surrounds you, and whether or not that sounds like good news to you will change depending on which camp you're in- and you can switch. if there's hope for me, then there is hope even for ISIS terrorists who come to faith.

Nazarenes- take hope.  that army is out there- you are surrounded and safe!  non-Nazarenes- take heed.  that army is still out there- you are surrounded!