The Finger

I cut my finger really bad at work the other day. We were trying to fix a malfunctioning Robocoup and silly me - I stuck my finger into a moving blade. I could have lost part of my finger, but thankfully, I simply sliced off a bit.

The Guatemalan women at my job taught me to put coffee in a wound to stop the bleeding, dull the pain and help the healing process. I immediately ran to our cafe to rub freshly ground espresso powder in the cut. I was gushing blood, however, and I dropped to my knees in pain. I sat on the floor with paper towels, trying to contain the blood into the garbage can. I applied pressure and put my hand above my heart. 

I looked up through my tears as the cafe girls stared at me. I think they were in more shock than I was, considering the blood everywhere. “What time is it? When does Sandy get here?!” I yelled. Sandy is our front-end manager and former RN. She was scheduled to be here any minute. Good. I sat and tried to keep myself composed. 

As I waited there, my morning devotion came to mind:

"Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus." (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18)

Sandy came in, 9 o’clock on the dot. She walked behind the counter, put her bag down and saw me there, sitting on the floor, hugging the blood-stained garbage can. “Oh, boy,” she said. “Good morning!” I replied, with a teasing smile. 

She took me in the back to inspect. Looking at the wound, she said I probably needed stitches. Because of our mutual aversion to hospitals, we decided to just bandage me up. We had no first aid kit, so she went across the street to a drugstore for supplies. God bless America.

As I waited, I continued meditating on my morning devotional, a message on 1Thessalonians by Graham Cooke:

     "The will of God is always tied into His nature. The will of God is to make you like Him. We are all made into His likeness. Therefore no matter what is occurring in our life, the opportunity to become like Christ is always instantly, immediately, constantly available to us.       If you are in distress you will learn how to be like God in those moments. If you’re facing opposition you can face it, learning to be like God, enjoying opposition.        It doesn’t matter what the situation is, the ability to become like Jesus is open and available to us and sometimes the situations around our lives dictate for us what God wants to be in us and what we can actually be in Him. That way, if we adopt that way of thinking, life makes all things possible to us but especially if we face it with joy and with thanksgiving."

Sandy returned minutes later, and the bleeding, for the most part, was under control. With bandages in hand, she said, “OK, let’s see it.” Now, the cut was on my middle finger. As she began to expertly attend to my wound, I sat there, middle finger extended, flipping her off, giving her the bird. 

She looked at me amused as we both sensed the irony of the situation. You see, I did not like Sandy. Not too many people in my workplace did. She had nicknames like “Sand-Paper” because she rubbed people the wrong way, and “Sandy-Bot” because she had no mercy for human emotion. She was difficult to work with, to say the least, and I often reacted negatively towards her in the past. She knew that I, like many others, had a general disdain for her. So as I stood there, middle finger extended, she began to dryly chuckle. “You’ve been wanting to do this for a looooong time....haven’t you?”

Previously, my answer would have been a definite in-your-face ‘yes’. She made my days very difficult when I worked with her. But for months, I had been crying out to God to change my heart, to help me love this horrible woman, to make me more like His son, Jesus, who loved the unlovable.

Realizing this was the perfect ice-breaking moment,  I said, “There was a time when I would have loved to have flipped you off. But now that I can, I don’t want to. Sandy, to be honest...I love you.” Without flinching, without any change in tone or emotion, she replied, “I love you, too. Always have.” And with that, she finished bandaging my finger and went on her way.

And that’s when I realized that it was God’s will for me to cut my finger that morning. It was purposed in Heaven that Sandy and I would have a moment of reconciliation, and God saw it fit to wound me to bring it about. Praising Him, I prayed, “If that’s what it takes Father to make me more like your Son, then You can wound me all You want!” I found reason to rejoice and give thanks. The pain and anxiety of the morning seemed to dissipate, so much that I was able to go back to my kitchen and finish out the day. 

While working a verse came to mind:

"If I gave everything I have to the poor and even sacrificed my body, I could boast about it; but if I didn't love others, I would have gained nothing." (1 Corinthians 13:3)

It occurred to me that I am about to go on another overseas mission trip. And yet here in America, at my job, was a woman to whom I had not truly brought the love of Christ. God was giving me the opportunity to make things right with her. He was answering my prayer to soften my heart. I was to first go and be reconciled to my sister; then offer myself to the mission field. (Matthew 5:24) Perhaps if I hadn’t of been so stubborn, I wouldn’t of had to slice my finger off to get to this point. Regardless, God was faithful. I was able to tell her I loved her.

During the next few days, she followed up with necessary care. As she cleaned and re-bandaged my finger, we had precious moments. We laughed. We confided in one another. I made her lunch. We hugged.

Graham Cooke was right. God uses everything to make us more like Christ, even distress, pain, flesh wounds. In all things we can rejoice! I watched myself heal. As new tender skin formed around the finger, it became a reflection of my heart that was new and soft towards this woman who was once my enemy. 

I had a new heart. My blood brought reconciliation.

I was becoming more Christlike.

“...for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”

Lè Bondye Voye Ou...

"Lè Bondye voye ou, li te peye bòdwo a." 

(When God sends you, He pays the bill.)

Plans for my Haiti trip caught a few snags, hit a few bumps in the road. By the time we worked out all the details, the trip was a little over a month away. 

I didn’t have much time to get prepared and raise support. No worries, I thought, there was a missions board meeting that week where I could easily make a request. However, that month, the board decided to make some cuts and pull support - not the best time to ask for money. I remained quiet. 

At the meeting, emphasis was on investing wisely and having a good return on money spent. Dollars should translate to souls in heaven, they decided. Fair enough.  So I’m riding my bike to work a few days later and began to pray...

“Aren’t I a good investment, Abba? Am I not a high-yield missionary? Am I not your chosen daughter?” I prayed. “You called me to ‘go’ and you called me to bear much fruit. How am I to make disciples of the nations unless you send me? Please, Daddy...pay for my trip.” 

No sooner did I say an ‘amen’, when I saw a dollar bill on the ground! I hit the brakes, spun the bike around and reached down to pull the money from the grass. It was as if my Heavenly Father was saying, ‘Of course I will pay for this trip!” I put that dollar in my back pocket and rode off, full of faith. 

That night, I was at a Bible study which ended with small group prayer time. I asked for prayer, inviting my friends to agree with me that God would finance this trip. That same night, a young man approached me. He had been raising support for his own trip to Nicaragua and received a surplus. He wrote me out a check for half of what I needed, on the spot. The next day, another couple hundred was donated by a friend and medical missionary to Guatemala. “Tax refund,” she said. “God told me to give towards missions.”

I spent the weekend praising God. Early Monday morning I received a call from the pastor of a local church who is going with us on this trip. “Kristin,” he said, “the church and I have decided that we want to sponsor you ourselves. Whatever your balance is, we would like to cover it.” And with that, all of my support was raised. 

“My yoke is easy and my burden is light,” Jesus said. 

Believing what the Lord says in the Word is effortless. I am so glad the the Lord has already made promises to me in His Word about missions work. The only work I have to do, is believe. God gives us rest and surety that He will pay the bill. 

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God."  Phillipians 4:6

"And we are confident that he hears us whenever we ask for anything that pleases him."  1 John 5:14 

"And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father."  John 14:13 

"The LORD will fulfill His purpose for me; your love, O LORD, endures forever--do not abandon the works of your hands."  Psalm 138:8

Learning To Slow Down

I experienced culture shock when I moved to Florida. Having lived in the city of Baltimore for several years I became used to an accelerated, hard, driving pace. Baltimore itself was loud and fast and mean. But the seminary I was attending was also very performance-oriented. I worked hard, studied hard and tried hard to prove to my teachers and peers - and God -  that I was good enough to hit the mark. I got all A’s in seminary -  then I burned out. 

On my first day in Florida I went to open a bank account in the small, quiet, rural port town I now lived in. I walked into the bank, signed in and sat down. I sat - and sat -  and soon found myself tapping my fingers, then tapping my foot, then pacing the empty waiting area, then finally asking a young bank associate -  why the long wait? ‘Ms. Schon, according to the sign in, you’ve only been here 9 minutes.” In Baltimore time, that translated into about two and a half hours! I should be in and out of here by now! “The bank manager should be with you shortly.”

Trying hard keep to keep my foot from tapping, the door of the manager’s office finally opened. I lept out of my chair then stopped. I saw the bank manager, a middle-aged Haitian-American woman in a smart navy-blue dress, assisting an elderly couple out of her office. On one arm was a frail, gray woman, well into her 80’s, on the other arm, a wrinkled, bald, crouching man, perhaps in his 90’s, walking with a cane, slowly. He would take a step, pause, inch his wobbling cane forward, then take another feeble step and pause. I sat back down and watched in painfully slow motion this couple being patiently escorted out of the bank. 

I realized then, I had to slow down. SW Florida was not Baltimore. I took a deep breath. God was allowing me to adopt a new pace. 

However, my internal pace still wanted to race a mile a minute. I recently had a friend call me out on my impatience. Since he lives in the Dominican Republic, he has adopted an even slower pace. “Slow...down...life,” he said, “It is the way of DR and Haiti.” Meditating on this, I learned a few more Creole words and told my Haitian co-worker, while trying to wrangle from her an unfinished container of cucumbers, “Mwen pa yon pasyans blan .” I am not a patient white person! It got her laughing pretty hard. 

And of course, like any good ‘9-5’, my job gives me plenty of reasons to lose my patience. Currently, the reason is Jack. Jack is a bright young 19-year old who found his way into my department a couple weeks ago. The other day, I asked him to peel some carrots and cut them on a bias. Easy enough. 

He grabbed the peeler. “Did you know that carrots come in other colors besides orange?” 

“Yes, Jack, I did know that,” I replied, and watched him wave the peeler in the air as he continued.

“Did you also know that color is an illusion? Color is visual response to wavelengths of light. Light is perceived on the retina as a stimulus and is processed into a perception of color in our brain.”

“Oh, how interesting. After you get those carrots peeled, you can...”

“You know what else is an illusion? Having a job. I mean, I really don’t feel like I want to be working, especially since my whole paycheck went to rent last week. What’s it all for? Life has got to be more than this! Do you think I can get more hours? I really want some more hours. ”

“...put the peels in the garbage can over there.”

“Because there’s this new skateboard I want to get and these SICK new bearings and...”

“Jack... the carrots?”

“Did you know the Russian word for carrot is морковь? Here, I can write your name in Russian!” Pulling a small phrasebook from his pocket, Jack begins to write my name, and the names of all our female co-workers, on our assignment board - in Russian.

“Maybe it’s time we got to work, Jack?”

“Oh, OK. Um...I think I’m gonna get another cup of coffee first. Be right back!” 

So, as I finished peeling and cutting the carrots, I began to think. 

Today’s culture is breeding a generation of kids who have what is called “cultural ADHD”. The society these kids are growing up in - one of information overload, mushrooming technology, microwaves, drive-thrus, planned obsolescence, instant messaging, instant gratification, virtual relationships, twittering, flickering electronic distractions, over consumption of sugar and caffeine, lack of stable environment and anxious parenting - is affecting their development. Young children are being placed in front of television and computer screens until they are ready for their own laptop, cell phone and Facebook account. As their brains develop they become wired differently than children just a generation ago who read books, used cursive and played outside with their neighborhood friends. 

In effect we have a culture that cannot focus, cannot sit still, cannot follow instructions. They are overstimulated and impatient. Obviously it is difficult to manage these kids in the workplace. It tries my own patience, especially when there is work to be done, deadlines to meet, tasks to finish. 

But I see an even bigger problem here. I see an end-time culture that is almost physiologically incapable of ‘being still and knowing He is God.’

I know the feeling well. My own stress levels, inability to concentrate and memory-loss seemed to increase after I installed Internet in my home not too long ago. The more information I gather, the more topics I research, the more time I spend listening to the media, the more ‘socializing’ I do on Facebook, the less I feel connected to the Spirit. 

It concerns me. I am concerned for myself and for this new generation. I am concerned for Jack. My friend put it this way: “God leads us best when we are listening.” But how can we follow God when we can’t hear Him? When there are a thousand other voices competing in our minds, our emotions, our spirits...the only Voice that matters seems to become harder and harder to hear. 

I have found that I need to purposely and intentionally create quiet space. Jesus did this often by spending time alone away from the crowds. I, too, need to get away. I take fasts from the computer and social media. I gave up television a long time ago. I meditate. I go for walks. I set aside time to rest in Him, to do nothing but be still. This takes practice, it takes discipline. I prefer to practice yoga for a while just to get my nervous system quieted down enough to allow my brain to be still. I do what I can to...slow...down. 

I remember finally opening the account at the bank. I sat down at the woman’s desk and we began to talk. Since she was from Haiti, I tried to speak French to her,  which made her smile. She showed me pictures of her family that still lives there. She asked about my recent move to Florida, which brought me to tears. She gave me Kleenex and kind words. She happened to be a Christian and we shared sweet fellowship, ministering the love of Jesus to one another. We spent time together. We had relationship. Had I not slowed down, I would have missed it all.

And this is all that God asks of us. Slow down. Don’t be in such a hurry. Stop tapping your foot and checking the time,  checking your Facebook and texting back and forth. Stop Twittering and being distracted by all the flickering. Stop gathering information just because it’s out there. Turn off the TV, turn off the radio, unplug. 

Yet, in all of our impatience, God is patient. He waits. God is not scattered; He’s completely focused on you. He longs to connect with you in that Secret Place. He desires for you to be still and know that He is God, because in that place, you will have fellowship. Relationship. Intimacy. Connection. Power. Peace. He wants you to know Him and He wants to know you. Slow down. Be still, be still. He’s waiting...

Learning To Enjoy the Ride

Last week I hit a bump in the road, spiritually speaking. I was racing, as usual, toward my destination, full speed ahead. Hitting a bump in the road at high speeds is usually more troublesome than if you were to go over the same bump at a slower pace. If you’ve ever done this in real life, you know that the contents of your vehicle will be shaken and rattled and tossed throughout the interior. Well, now you have a picture of what my little head went through. 

The bump involved a glitch in my well thought-out plans about how I though my life should look in the next year. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, God laughs at my plans. And yet, He loves me. You see, my Father created me with a melancholic mind that is always turning, always thinking. If channeled properly, it can be quite brilliant, sensitive, creative, organized, articulate, artistic and in tune with the Spirit. On the flip side, the weaknesses of my temperament are over analyzing, perfectionism, worrying, over planning and generally driving myself - and everyone around me - completely crazy, especially when things are out of my control. God help us. 

I have some huge changes coming ‘round the bend in the next year. Think about it. A possible transitioning from beautiful Naples, Florida to an orphanage in rural Haiti is kinda huge. This has sent my poor little head into overdrive. I purposed to simply count the cost, but ended up over-analyzing, over-evaluating and over-thinking every little detail. From a systems-management point of view, I actually did pretty well. However, just when I thought I had my life and my future mission ‘all figured out’ ... BUMP!

Stormie Omartian, in her book, Just Enough Light for the Step I’m On, says this:

“(If you) suddenly feel like your life has come to a halt, don't be alarmed. Most likely, God is adjusting your way. Having God correct your course doesn't necessarily mean the one you were on was incorrect. But it does mean that something needs to change to get you headed in the direction God wants to take you.”

Again, one of my strengths, it seems, is to have deep communion with the Spirit. But I can also fall into the trap of having deep communion with my own thoughts.  God wants me to trust Him - not my mind -  with every detail, living a simple life of child-like faith. In His wisdom, God is doing what He can to rattle and shake me to make sure my life becomes a complete walk of faith, similar to that of Abraham, who “obeyed when God called him to leave home and go to another land that God would give him as his inheritance. He went without knowing where he was going.” (Hebrews 11:8) 

You see, in Genesis 12, Abraham was called by God to “go.” He wasn’t told where, he was only promised a blessing. So he left everything behind and went into the land of Canaan, a good land, possessed by a bad people, believing in God’s promises. Abraham was not given details, a plan or an itinerary. He just went. And God was faithful... 

This weekend I was talking to a dear friend. He is an obedient servant, whose walk of faith I admire. I looked to him for wisdom, burdening him with a million questions, and of course, details. I couldn’t see that I just needed to slow down and stop outstripping God by longing to do His will. He is the alpha and omega, after all. He is God. I need to learn that God did all the thinking and planning for me, before the foundations of the earth were laid. I need to just fall in line with what He is already doing and enjoy the ride. Apparently trying to help me out of my struggle, my friend broke it down to me this way, 

“God will show you. It is more like... take a step and God will be faithful. Take another step and God will be faithful....”

So simple. Childlike. And completely over my head. 

So today I fasted. I took a complete Sabbath from any activity. I slowed down. I took my foot off the gas. I didn't even get in the car. I stopped running ahead of the Lord. I stopped analyzing and trying to figure it all out. I simply rested in the Spirit. I enjoyed His presence. I got still...and realized He was God. 

Come, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
To the house of the God of Jacob;
He will teach us His ways,
And we shall walk in His paths.

Micah 4:2

How Do You Read It?

I excitedly flipped through the pages of the new Church Cookbook. Being a specialty Chef by trade, I was eager to see my favorite creations in print. Much to my dismay, I found that both recipes I submitted were transcribed incorrectly. They each had typos that now rendered them as awkward, perhaps inedible dishes, if the recipes were followed. I was mortified. A while later, however, I began to laugh. “Holy Spirit, You did it again!”

Lately, it seems, my inside joke with God is Him wreaking havoc on my little melancholy world that I strive to keep neat, controlled, and compartmentalized with articulate, easy to follow recipes and plans. Ha! God laughs at my plans...

I recently received an e-mail from a young woman who ministers in Les Cayes. Talking about her experiences in Haiti, she said this:

“The way the Haitians live is extremely different than what we are used to in the States, and if you aren't already, you will learn to be extremely patient and extremely flexible.  These are two things that are essential in order to "successfully" live in Haiti.”

Patience & Flexibility. Definitely not my stronger character traits. So I prayed,  “Father, please make me more patient and flexible.” Big mistake! Within 2 hours, I was already drowning in a new trial, yet another error out of my control that made me seem more fallible than I was comfortable with. I could hear God chuckling...

God loves to expose the condition of our hearts. In Luke 10, a rabbi who had it all together - an expert in the Law - asked Jesus how to get into Heaven. “What is written in the Law,” Jesus replied. “How do YOU read it?” But the rabbi, who wanted to make himself look good, quoted the appropriate scripture and then asked, “Who is our neighbor?” 

Knowing that Jewish law’s definition of “neighbor” did not include Samaritans or Gentiles, Jesus told the rabbi the story of the Good Samaritan. By doing so, Jesus answered this rabbi’s question with another question: Where is your heart? The issue is not who your neighbor is. The issue is your own heart. Are YOU a good neighbor?

And that’s what Jesus does to us sometimes. He puts situations, trials and people - especially people - into our lives that BEG the question: “Are you a good neighbor?” God puts these ‘neighbors’ into our life so we can examine our own hearts. It’s not about who or what drives us crazy, but the crazy that resides in us. In most cases, our neighbor seems to be anyone - or anything - that takes us out of our comfort zone. If you are willing, He will certainly bring you to the end of yourself in order to reveal it to you.

The Samaritan was traveling when he found a man lying on the side of the road, left for dead. This naked, beaten man was not part of the plan, not penciled into the schedule, not budgeted for. But when will people in need ever be convenient? When will the sick and naked and orphaned and diseased and beaten and hungry and poor ever be convenient for us? But the Samaritan stopped what he was doing. He saw him, he took pity on him and he went to him. 

Jesus tells us to “Go and do likewise.”

Jesus has asked me to do this in Haiti. He has asked me to stop what I am doing, take pity on the children of this nation and go to them. This has not and will not be convenient for me. Haiti does not fit into my organized compartments of how a culture should be, of how a nation should be. I will need to be OK when plans go awry, when schedules are interrupted, when organization unravels and structure crumbles. I will have to expect misunderstanding, miscommunication and malfunction. I will need to be OK with mosquitoes, misery, meanness and mud. I will learn to live outside my comfort zone. 

It will be revealed that I am completely fallible. My 'recipes' will most likely be altered, and I will have to be OK with that.  Maybe I will have to follow recipes that make absolutely no sense and produce horrible results and have my name attached to them. Perhaps I will have to go back to cooking without recipes. One thing is for certain: my new kitchen consists of a large pot and some sticks. I will have to be patient and flexible. It's all about my heart. Do I love my neighbor?

How do I read this? 


In the end, God will not care how my recipes turned out. He will care how my  heart  turned out. When I am in Heaven, He will simply look to see if I have brought my neighbors with me. 

When the Heat Comes

It was Monday morning, and my workday was already doing everything Mondays are infamous for. There had not yet been any yelling, explosions or 'bullets' to dodge, common occurances in our workplace. Regardless, things had already begun to melt down and it was barely 8 am. 

I walked away from my kitchen to take a breather. I obviously needed a little more quiet time than I had given myself this morning. I brought back to mind the devotional I read before bicycling to work. It spoke of a passage from the book of Jeremiah:

 “But blessed is the one who trusts in the LORD,
   whose confidence is in him.
They will be like a tree planted by the water
   that sends out its roots by the stream.
It does not fear when heat comes;
   its leaves are always green.
It has no worries in a year of drought
   and never fails to bear fruit.” (17:7-8, NIV)

When heat comes.  Another translation puts it this way: 

“Such trees are not bothered by the heat.” (NLT)

And here I was, completely bothered. So much so, that that I found a co-worker in his office, and proceeded to sob uncontrollably on his shoulder. Yep, Monday morning and I’m already falling apart. Realizing that I came to work in my own strength, I began to repent and pray aloud for God’s help with my work week. “I can’t do it without You,” I sobbed. I expected my co-worker, usually quite compassionate, to console me. But this morning, holding my weeping mess of a self, he softly spoke these words:

“Suck it up, sweetie.”

I lifted my tear-stained face from his shoulder, in shock at first, but then looking into his eyes, I sensed Holy Spirit. He did too, and we both started to laugh, deep belly laughs that now had me crying tears of joy. We had tapped into God, and the fruit of the Spirit was JOY. 

And this is exactly what we are to do...suck it up! The secret to Jeremiah’s tree is that it had spread out its roots by the river, tapped into it’s life-giving moisture... and drank. As Christians, we are to do the same thing. Our taproot is our soul in contact with Jesus, sharing His life and bearing His fruit. (Meditation, Jim Downing, NavPress)

A Christian can be quite pathetic when they try to live life without drawing daily nourishment from God. Trust me, I know. There is no growth, no fruit. It is ‘bothered by the heat’ and ‘worries in years of drought.’ But a real Christian is tapped into the Source. As Isaiah puts it:

“And the remnant who have escaped of the house of Judah
Shall again take root downward,
And bear fruit upward.” (37:31)

Let’s face it: life is hard. Heat, drought, storms, pain, trials, temptations...it will all come our way, guaranteed. But if we are tapped into the Source of all strength, we will be able to endure. We will even be able to count it all joy, facing life’s daily challenges with a smile on our face for the world to see. But we must plant ourselves by the River, we must be willing to daily receive the nourishment we need. 

Endurance athlete David Goggins once said, “Every morning I take a giant suck-it-up pill, and wash it down with a refreshing can of hard.” 

Thankfully, we needn’t be so stoic or self-reliant! God has promised to care for us. 

“I, the LORD, will watch over it, watering it carefully.” Isaiah 27:3

Planting ourselves can be as easy as resting in God’s presence, spending time in His Word, or simply being still and knowing He is God. 

We have a God that will supply all the strength we need to endure. And endurance is important in a world that can be treacherous, especially on Monday mornings. The apostle Paul likens the Christian life to a race that we must run with endurance so we can win the prize. (1 Cor 9:24)  When we have the strength of an almighty, omnipotent God, we will be more than conquerers. We will win the prize. 

Goggins says this about running: “Running is running. It hurts, but that’s all it does. The most difficult part of the training is training your mind. You build calluses on your feet to endure the road. You build calluses on your mind to endure the pain. There’s only one way to do that. You have to get out there and run.”

So I ran back to my kitchen. I ran back into the heat with joy in my heart. And with a smile on my face, I finished out my day. 

RED TOMATOES

I start my workday like every other...

“Bon jou, madame...buenas diaz, senora.”

Near the time clock is the workstation of my coworkers Marie and Rosa, Haitian and Mexican, respectively. Each morning I find them hard at work, chopping vegetables and bagging fruit, sometimes harvesting freshly grown sprouts and wheatgrass for our busy organic market.

Part of my morning routine is to gather fresh produce I’ll need to create that day’s meal. And lately, my mornings include Creole lessons. Widmy Romelus, our produce stocker, is a brilliant 19-year old Haitian-American and the best Creole teacher an blan fanm could have. Though his English is impecable, he took it upon himself to make me ask for my produce list in Creole, not English.

“Sa ou vle jodi a?” What do you want today? My response is usually a wince and a moving an ear closer, my sign to him that he needs to repeat that a little slower, please. “Ki...sa... ou... bezwen?” What do you need? It was through Widmy that I learned my first Creole word, ‘zaboka.’ Fitting, as I love avocadoes. Mwen reme zaboka.

One day, I needed tomatoes. I approached Widmy. He stopped what he was doing and smiled as I timidly approached. “Mwen rele tomats wouj,” I said, and Widmy let out a hearty laugh. “Do you know what you just said? You said YOU WERE a red tomato! Non, ou VLE tomat wouj," and he continued to chuckle. 

I walked back to my kitchen, blushed red as a tomato I’m sure, but with a box of beautiful local romas in hand. So that morning,  I confessed to be something I’m not. Innocently enough, but It really got me thinking...how often do we do that? How often do we make confessions about ourselves that are simply not true?

Do you ever catch yourself saying things in your head like “I can’t do this...I’m a failure... I am unable... I am ashamed... I am not good enough... I am no good... I am damaged... I’m a mess.... I am ugly... I am unlovable... I am _________.”  Feel free to fill in the blank, as I’m sure we all have old tapes that we play, perhaps only subconsciously. We don’t even realize how damaging these thoughts are to our minds, emotions, spirits. Even our physical health can be affected by harboring negative confessions. These ingrained thoughts are nothing but lies that need to be unlearned.

So that morning, as I diced the entire box of tomats wouj, I began confessing in my mind what I knew to be true:

"I am A child of God... Saved by grace through faith... Redeemed from the hand of the foe... Led by the Spirit of God, a new creature... Redeemed from the curse of the law... Kept in safety wherever I go... Strong in the Lord and in his mighty power... Living by faith and not by sight... Rescued from the dominion of darkness... Justified, an heir of God and co-heir with Christ... Blessed with every spiritual blessing... An overcomer by the blood of the lamb and the word of my testimony... The light of the world, an imitator of God... Healed by His wounds... Being transformed by the renewing of my mind... Heir to the blessings of Abraham... Doing all things through Christ who gives me strength... More than a conqueror." *

Now, being a complete beginner at Creole, it is difficult to figure out what to say to Widmy. I have no foundation on which to build. Some days, I get confused and resort to ‘kitchen Spanish,’ which I have to use all day, “Por favor, con permiso, lo siento, donde es el cuchillo grande, mucho caliente, gracias chicka....mucho delicioso!”  It really amuses Widmy, when I start speaking some version of Sp-aitian, perhaps with a little French thrown in. “Donde kote est la wouj fey lechuga a?”

Life can be confusing. There are so many voices. Your past may tell you one thing, the media may program into you another, the people in your life that hurt you definately have a message. Sometimes you just default to the voices you've heard. There is, as well, an enemy of our souls who doesn't want you to know the Truth of who you are in Christ. He is hard at work bringing these opposing voices to you. Thankfully, we don’t need to be ignorant. Truth does not have to be figured out...God has already given us everything we need in His Word. His Word is our foundation, Jesus the cornerstone. We need only to read...

One of my favorite passages in Scripture is Ephesians chapter 1. This is my go-to chapter when I’ve had a horrible day, when all else has failed and I need to know who I am in Christ. In fact, I read it aloud to speak a little truth to the atmosphere:

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the Beloved. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight making known to us the mystery of his will, according to his purpose, which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth. In him we have obtained an inheritance, having been predestined according to the purpose of him who works all things according to the counsel of his will, so that we who were the first to hope in Christ might be to the praise of his glory. In him you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, who is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of his glory.” (Ephesians 1:3-14)

Works every time. 

The days are just better, when you are able to rest in the truth. With Widmy’s help, I complete my shift and come a little closer to speaking Creole. As I clock out of another day, Rosa and Maria are usually still there, hard at work. “Buenos noches, amiga....Bon swa, m’zanmie. Muchas Gracias. Merci anpil.”

And thank you, Jesus, for the Truth that sets me free...

*Taken from a poster I have hanging on my bathroom mirror... 

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How It All Began...

It was 1998. I owned a ‘headshop’ and just became a radically converted Christian. In my little store, where I sold pipes and papers and incense, I would listen to Christian radio and tell Bible stories to my unsuspecting customers. "Would you like screens with that...and have you heard about the woman at the well?" It was here that I first learned what a 'missionary' was. On a local radio station I heard about people smuggling Bibles into China. 

Freshly afire with a new love for Jesus, my heart was now completely stoked. Missions!  I wanted to tell everyone about the Good News! I knew then that God would use me for missions work.  I was a gypsy; adaptable, multi-talented, multi-faceted. I was tenacious and passionate.  Lining my trench coat with a 100 New Testaments and crossing dangerous borders was right up my alley. 

A few weeks later, when a friend invited me on a missions trip to Haiti, I immediately said yes! All I had to do, he said, was come up with my share of the gas money for the twin-engine plane out of Miami. No problem; I still sold drug paraphernalia and business was good. I had my mission field! But my friend’s pastor, who knew me since my teens, pulled me aside. This would be a difficult trip, he warned. It’s all men, it’s to a dangerous part of the island, you’re a new believer and a woman with more zeal than wisdom. Do...not...go. 

Somehow I submitted to his counsel, and I pulled out. Sure enough, the men who went faced some pretty serious spiritual warfare and vodoun attacks that brought them back white as ghosts. Someday, I thought, I will make it down to Haiti. In the meantime, I sold my head shop and moved in with a pastor and his wife who discipled me, trained me in the Word of God laid a solid foundation in me. This pastor’s wife, a director of a women’s inner-city Rescue Mission, agreed about my call:

“You’re well suited for missions. You do not succumb to the trappings of western culture. You’re flexible, resourceful. You can bend, adapt. Besides, you are CALLED... AND, you like food that tastes like it’s been harvested off the bottom of a boat!”

My first real mission field, however, was not overseas. I ended up buying a house in the inner-city of Albany, in a ghetto known as West Hill, full of gangs, prostitution, drugs. In my first two weeks there, a drive by shooting occurred in front of my house. Three months later, a young man was shot in the chest in my backyard. Every morning, I swept garbage and crack bags off my sidewalk. I also planted perennials. I planted flowers. I grew tomatoes. I chased drug dealers off my street. I taught the neighborhood children how to water the trees I planted. I did prayers walks in the morning . If I walked in the evening, I was commonly mistaken as a crack head or prostitute, typically the only reason a white woman would be in the neighborhood. “Hey, baby, how much?” My reply to the unsuspecting johns was something like,  “Jesus loved you soooo much that he died on the cross for you. Repent and be saved!”

During my walks I would find little barrettes, ones the little neighborhood girls wore in their plated hair. Each time I found a barrette lying on the street or sidewalk, I would say a prayer for the girl who had lost it. I saved those barrettes I found. I kept them in a large jar. Several hundred prayers of protection from the dangers of the ghetto, health for minds, emotions, bodies and a saving knowledge of Jesus’ love. 

Years went by in the ghetto. The Mayor of Albany thanked me for the transformation that occurred on my block since moving in. Things had in fact had quieted down, the streets were less mean. A group of friends and I started a Bible Club and lunch program for the local children. Now they proudly kept the streets clean, though the crack bags had long since disappeared. The only real trouble I had was how to keep the city squirrels from digging up my tulip bulbs and eating my tomatoes.  

This is when the man who invited me on the missions trip to Haiti years before came back into my life. He had made several trips to Haiti since I saw him last.  We began courting. He was a buffalo and hay farmer by trade, hardworking, handsome and strong. We planted a garden together. I created an irrigation system that impressed him so much, he dreamed of homesteading in Haiti together. I dreamed of a dozen adopted Haitian babies climbing all over me as we shared our love of farming and Jesus with the nationals.

After a couple of years serving in a little country church together, we woke up from our dreaming, amiably split and I was off to Bible college to study missions. He visited me in college on his way down to another Haiti trip. I loaded him up with balloons and bubbles and candy for the children. I studied hard in school and ended up traveling to several other countries - Turkey, Ukraine, Mexico, Hungary - on short term trips. I also helped plant a few churches here in the states. And then I married a missionary, or so I thought. This man, whom I met at one of our church plants, had spent ten years on the foreign field. But after we married, the only traveling he did was outside our marriage. 

Our separation brought me to Florida. It was the most difficult season of my life. My divorce and the Haiti earthquake happened somewhere around the same time. I barely remember either;  too much pain and destruction. I felt just as decimated as the images on the television. Nothing left to do but trust in God’s faithfulness and keep pressing on...so that’s what I did.

A couple years later, the dust had settled, and I began to rebuild my life. I had a new career, was knitting in to a fabulous new church, making new friends, learning how to enjoy my life again. I was on Facebook one day, and it ‘suggested’ a friend to me because we had a mutual friend and both read one of my favorite books. Why not? I thought, and friend-ed him. He ended up being a missionary to Haiti. I realized God was letting me know I was ready to get back into missions work again. It was time. 

This new ‘virtual’ friend ended up being a fantastic person of God who encouraged me, prayed for me and spurred me on, exactly what I needed. I went to several missions fairs and conferences to further stir myself up. I also went to see Roland and Heidi Baker (whom I had met years before in the ghetto) so they could pray for me. Within weeks, the doors to missions starting flinging wide open. God was making it clear that now WAS the time. So here I was, a few hundred miles from Haiti, in a new church with a huge heart for missions. My 14 year wait to get to Haiti was coming to an end....