Prayer Reminder

Just a reminder that from Sunday to Thursday, and perhaps longer, I will not have internet access. I will have my computer so that I can continue to record my thoughts as I serve in whatever way needed during the second mission trip to Tetlin, AK. Please, please don’t forget about me. Pray for me and the others on this trip that we could reach this small Native group in a more profound way than has been done before. I’ll share all the details when I return.

Love.

Alaska Mission Week Two

I noted in the original post about the second week Alaska mission trip that we’d be serving several Anchorage community agencies. A more recent note from the mission leader indicates a change of itinerary. We’ll be making a road trip to Tetlin, a 97% Native village about 8 hours northeast of Anchorage. The population in Tetlin, according to the 2000 census, was 117 (64% men, 36% women) and the median age was 30. The average household income in 2008 was about $16,000.

Our agenda includes prayer walking, after school basketball games to connect with the youth, a service in the Tribal Hall, serving the elders, a prayer walking trip to Northway village, cleaning the school, and on the way home a stop in Tok and Tanacross villages. What an exciting opportunity to visit these remote villages to grow my understanding of the Native Alaskan cultures and to see how God can work in these places.

Reflections on Mission Trip #1 and My Second Year Purpose

The trip contributed to my overall understanding of how short-term missions works (at least some of them), my expectations related to impact, and My Second Year mission purpose. How did I break down walls, build compassion, and show grace?

Breaking down my own walls came when living in one house with 65 people where revealing my heart was met with warmth rather than rejection or judgment. I was so pleasantly surprised by this realization, but you know how God can be. Breaking down my own walls came when I mustered the courage to talk socially with the seniors and the children. This may seem an odd thing but I would much rather listen and observe someone else talking socially than be the initiator. I think I did pretty well. Breaking down my own walls came when Brenda learned about my story and just came to me and hugged me. Something about her sincerity and her compassion just melted my heart. Breaking down walls for others may have come when I practiced listening and drawing them to talk more about their stories. I have to admit that I was afraid to ask the Natives about their stories given the high rate of incest and suicide. I was afraid I would not be well equipped to respond effectively. Ugh…God, I need more courage to be your ambassador.

Building compassion occurred when several mission people shared their stories and I was able to listen and pray for each one of those who opened themselves up. We really shared some wonderful moments together. Building compassion occurred when I found myself forming assumptions about things people would reveal and I stopped myself. Instead I asked questions to learn more rather than to close off the opportunity to show interest or concern.

Showing grace, well…I have to admit I probably received more grace than any of these others actually needed from me. I often found myself thinking about how I’d organize the mission experience differently and then quickly reminded myself that I don’t know enough about the details to make such an assessment. I allowed myself to be flexible and to go with the flow by meeting Brenda’s needs and expectations. I’m sure this has little to do with grace but maybe the practice in flexibility counts for something.

Overall, it seems My Second Year purpose was fulfilled to varying degrees and in varying ways. But the purpose was mostly fulfilled in relation to the mission people rather than the Nome locals. I’m not feeling like I’ve done well in extending myself out into the community in the way I hoped/expected. I do know that I have high expectations but I also don’t want to make excuses or give myself a pass where one isn’t due. I did learn a lot, I helped a lot, and I made some great friends. I’ll keep practicing.

Reflections on Mission Trip #1

As I reflect on the first week mission trip to Nome, and my first mission trip ever, I feel so privileged to have been a part of the two most major events in Nome – the basketball tournament and the Iditarod. I am well suited to contribute in such practical ways.

I have to be honest and say that I found myself filling more practical needs than spiritual needs. I’m tempted to feel guilty about this from a mission perspective, but Brenda pointed out that there was a time when her teams weren’t welcome in Nome because of the fear they’d cram religion down the throats of the people. Today, however, non-religious groups call the church asking for practical help from her teams on a regular basis. For example, the big events bring more celebrations, which results in more drunkenness. A number of the mission guys were asked to work security patrol in the evenings and early mornings, which required preventing those who were drunk from passing out in the street and freezing to death…literally. As another example, caring for the musher’s dogs in the dog lot gave them, as one musher commented, “peace of mind that no one was disturbing [his] dogs.”

Faithfulness in helping the community on a regular basis results in building trusting relationships with school and agency leaders. These relationships may also lead to opportunities to share Jesus and to minister to spiritual needs. So, while my one week presence may not have had this major impact I was hoping for (who am I to think I’m that good), my presence contributed in some small way to the bigger momentum being built by God through Brenda with the Nome community.

Southern Hospitality

The week has come to a close. As I reflect on a big part of the group I spent the week with, the best thing I can say to characterize the experience is that it was something akin to living with the Clampets times 10. There were two large groups participating, along with a few couples, and both groups were from the south – one from Ware Shoals, South Carolina and another from Mountville, South Carolina – and somehow there was a group from Louisanna too. Most participants were well into adulthood although there were a few just older than college age’ish folks in the crowd (Justin, Lendell, Marianne, and more).

A particular group from Beaverdam Baptist Church in SC was so full of personality I think I even ended up with a southern drawl. The men were all heavily weathered, had big round bellies, grizzly beards, a bucket full of attitude, and deep southern ways. It took me almost the whole week to really know the difference between big John, Randy, Jim, and Jeff. Then there was Pastor Phil, Ron, Dave, Bingo, and Sambo. The women gave these guys just as much guff as they gave one another. Seriously, this was an absolute comedy show.

These people welcomed me with wide open arms. They started in on the heckling immediately, perhaps because heckling me relieved someone else for a while. And they really did dish it out. Wow. They had a firm determination to get me to eat grits. What a hoot! Along with this fierce heckling came a lot of love. They watched out for me, walked with me around town or to the various work locations…they had my back. What a wonderful model of community these folks shared and demonstrated. It was a real privilege to become friends with them all and to intertwine their lives into my story.

Let me not forget the other group from the south. They were the mature half of the SC group: sweet, helpful, and gracious. What a contrast.

Love all y'all!

The Voice of the Children

The current (Tuesday) temperature in Nome is 13° but it feels like -3° when you factor in the 40 mph wind gusts. As I lay in my bottom bunk I can hear the children screaming. That’s what the wind passing the corner of the upper bedroom sounds like. What if that sound mirrors the hearts of children screaming for freedom from incest and suicide and the seemingly-inevitable alcoholic future? Those tiny voices calling for help. Who will come?

What is the best way to break this cycle? We’ve spent the week engaging with the schools and working with their children. Every year at this time Brenda comes with a group of short-term missionaries – only a few of which are repeat participants – to reinforce the love of Jesus, but I’m not naive enough to believe my work will be enough.

Brenda’s vision is to serve the women and girls in Nome and the surrounding villages and to help raise then up out of the cycle of incest and all the lies the enemy plants in the hearts of those people as a result. Would you pray freedom for every woman and girl in this area?

Musk Oxen and Snow Machines

Play time is at a premium here but Pastor Landry arranged for the group to use his two snow machines to ride up the side of the mountain and see the herd of musk ox. The original trip was to have been two machines and a chase van. The original trip netted in a sighting that was too treacherous for the equipment. Tuesday morning one of the guys and I went out on the machines to scout their location before sending the chase van.

We found the musk ox – the woolly mammoth version of the bison – grazing on the lower side of a mountain. We parked the snow machine on the opposite side of that mountain and walked up to the top – watching for the stray ox that might have been grazing a little higher up. We came perhaps 50 yards from them before they acknowledged our presence. We had a beautiful view of the entire village from on top of that hill while the wind howled stronger than it did in town (perhaps 60 mph +).

The last time I was on a snow machine (although we called it a snowmobile) was very likely with my dad back in that year Michigan had piles beyond piles of snow (1976-77)? I do believe I enjoyed the ride, and reminiscing about my childhood rides, far more than I enjoyed seeing the musk ox.

Senior Center

Billy is 88 years old and was enjoying the company of Leonard and Johnny for lunch at the senior center. His dad came to Alaska from the country of Holland when Billy was 20 years old. His dad staked a gold claim and Billy and his four brothers worked that million dollar claim until the brothers rebelled for lack of compensation.

Leonard is 83 years old and moved from Montana to Alaska 54 years ago to escape the traditional lifestyle…for adventure. He is a very alert, politically active young man who is currently petitioning to get the smokers to move 50 feet away from the entry of the senior center.

Johnny is some number of years old and is native to the general area. He sat at the computer with a Bluetooth in his ear waiting for lunch to be served. I was in his seat. He, of the three gentlemen, was the most warm and welcoming responder to my invasion of their space.

I never expected that I would find two blue-eyed veterans of Nome sitting alongside the Native. Billy and Leonard said they had no need for Jesus. Some people do, they said, and that’s just fine. But they just don’t need him. They expect someday they might but for now they’re just fine without him.

Every ounce of defense to this type of comment failed me when faced with these two very opinionated non-native elders. Eternity flashed through my mind but I expected that telling them the pits of Hell are quite a bit warmer than Nome would be seen as a welcome change. I asked a few folks here at the church how they would have responded and they all got just as stuck as I did. They reminded me that God has to be the one to open their hearts. While I know that is true, I also feel like it’s a cop out. I don’t want to feel better about being unable to respond…I want to know what to say so I can go back there and tell them why they should care.

Doing Church

The longer I observe how the church we’re staying in operates, the more differences I see in how church is done here in Nome as compared to the many churches in the lower 48. I realize the difference could also be attributed to being in a small community versus a large city, but I almost wonder if Community Baptist Church of Nome and Pastor Bruce Landry understand church in a more authentic way.

The building is nothing special. The lower level contains a small sanctuary, some offices, bathrooms, and a few dorm-type rooms. The upper level is the pastor’s house and more dorm rooms. There’s no steeple, no stained glass, and no pews. The carpet is old, the paneling is plain, the bathrooms are small, and the walls are freezing. But everything works well enough…most of the time. A hot water pipe burst this morning – no hot water. Out back is a shed where freezer type things are kept alongside the snow machines that are essential to survival in the typically subarctic conditions. A point of advice, the lock on the shed will stick to your fingers if it’s cold enough and the chill is something you don’t even recognize as cold but is something more like a searing pain that shoots up your arm.

People come and go into this building as they wish. Kids come to play games, students come to get help with homework, elders come to string beads, and you never know who will show for dinner. It’s a safe community place where the pastor can always be found.

Everyone helps one another, they watch out for one another, they love one another even if they don’t share the same religious beliefs. There is a sense of real compassion for the people of Nome here. This is not to say there isn’t frustration over the drunkenness or incest or suicide rates, but these problems might be why it’s that much more important to function as a community.

What is it like at your church? Are the doors open for anyone to come and go as they please? Will there be people there to love on those who just need an ear? Are you being the real authentic church?

Mushers and Their Dogs

During the musher’s banquet, I was surprised to hear almost every musher talk with a genuine depth and passion about the community they have developed among one another. During the training season, mushers share dogs, training tips, and trail advice. Along the Iditarod trail they encourage one another, offer dry socks, trade for warm shirts, or give dog booties. I was impressed by the sense of community they all share.

This closeness seems to come from some very important commonalities – the love of the race and the love of their dogs. I’m beginning to understand what this kind of community feels like when that common thread is Jesus. What a sweet and special feeling.

When visiting the dog lot – the place mushers leave their dogs after the race to be bedded, fed, monitored, and otherwise loved – I was struck by how small and how skinny these dogs are. Most have ribs easily visible under their skin. I read that the dogs eat and burn over 10,000 calories each day while on the trail. While in the dog lot, these beautiful creatures howled in a synchronized chorus reminiscent of something deeply spiritual.

Iditarod Legend Lance Mackey

I wrote about Lance Mackey in the Iditarod Starts Today post. He has an inspirational story after having faced stage four cancer and being in remission, and after having won the Iditarod this week for the fourth time in a row. What I love about his story is the perseverance and the love of life – he lives every day to its fullest. That attitude sounds so much like Rick and maybe a little like me.

Friday early evening when wandering around all four blocks of town – before I learned that I wasn’t supposed to do that alone – I was taking a picture of this sign that points to all the big cities nearby along with their respective air miles. You know the kind – 164 miles to Siberia. Well, appearing in the lower half of my photo was Lance Mackey. Good thing I’d studied his picture and watched his video or I’d not have known who it was.

Saturday we participated in a thank you breakfast for the volunteers and Mackey arrived to say thanks to us all, as did a few other mushers. I pulled up a seat near him and spoke of my admiration that he continues to press on after such enormously bad odds with cancer (i.e., didn’t expect him to make it out of surgery) and that he has this love of life and everything he does. He seemed to appreciate the brief personal conversation.

Later I went to the musher signing and did get his autograph on my Iditarod hat. Wasn’t sure what to say to all the other mushers I passed by.

The Life of These Shoes

According to our orientation document, removing shoes before coming inside a home is essential so as to prevent the deterioration of carpets and floors given the snowy and salty conditions. I’ve never seen such a huge pile of shoes in my life. 165 people stayed here last night which means 165 pairs of shoes littered the entry way and spilled into the “sanctuary” (which was about the size of an average living room).

Each of these pairs of shoes represents the life of someone committed to Jesus and the journey their lives have taken to get them here. Some of these journeys are long and some are quite short, but they’re all important and each intertwines through this mission experience.

A story of breast cancer survival belongs to one pair of shoes. A story of surviving a daughter’s molestation belongs to another pair of shoes. A story of a husband who shot himself to death belongs to another pair of shoes. I know my shoes tell a story too.

How interesting would it be to know the hurts and joys that belong to each pair of shoes. Every time I come in the door I say a little prayer over the life of the person who belongs to the shoes nearest where I lay mine.

Sending the Twelve (or 65)

Before we were sent into the community of Nome, we participated in a short orientation. We were advised that Nome is the vortex of evil for the state of Alaska. As an example, there is a safe-sex bar in town where people go who collectively want to have sex. If you go to this bar you know you will have sex. As another example, Nome has a suicide season. As snow melts a new year is signified and the harvest season begins again. This is a time when everything is changing and renewing and this is the time when many people think about stopping this process and consider suicide. As a final example, we were told that in nearby Kotzubue the incest rate is 100%.

Brenda made an analogy that Nome is the beach of the former land bridge and its residents are the first nation group to set foot in North America. As the “first born” these people are targeted for death in much the same way the firstborn were targeted in the Bible. I’d have to do some more reading and thinking about this, but the idea has at least some possibility. Whatever the reason, Nome is definitely a target of the enemy.

Brenda also pointed out that corporately we bring the presence of God to Nome. Christian’s en mass do not gather together here, there aren’t enough people. When as many people come for the mission week, we bring this corporate presence that would otherwise not exist. What an amazing opportunity just to have so many believers together in one place. What power.

Current Temperature: 16°

Musher’s Banquet

Sunday began with a very quaint church service that included mostly the short-term mission group and a few Natives. Immediately following that service we all headed out for various assignments related to preparing for the Musher’s banquet to be held that evening at the recreation hall.

The Musher’s banquet is an annual event following the Iditarod where awards and recognitions are handed out. Tickets cost $40, quite a sum for the locals. I’ve been told a box of Pop Tarts costs $16 so it seems that three boxes of Pop Tarts would have been well worth the cost of this feast. I learned that 800 tickets were sold, the maximum number the building can hold, not including all the volunteers, to satisfy the fire marshal (is there a fire marshal in Nome?). Every seat was full.

The Millennium Hotel from Anchorage caters the event and we’d spent part of Saturday helping with prep work. Prime rib (the most tender and tasty I’d ever had when cut from under a heat lamp), halibut, mashed potatoes, green beans, rice, rolls, shrimp, pasta salad, a Musher’s sleigh full of strawberries, and garden salad. For dessert…chocolate cake, coconut something, and cheesecake.

Upon arrival I was assigned to be a team leader on one of three buffet tables. My job was to manage an assistant and six runners by ensuring that the food was well stocked, the table was clean, and everyone had what they needed. It took just over an hour to get every diner through the line the first time. The fresh salad and fruit were hits; Nome residents seldom get such luxuries. Many returned to fill their plates numerous times to take home with them.

I had an awesome team, we worked well together and had a very smooth, very clean food buffet. I’m so thankful to them all. Yea them!

After the meal and the ceremony were over, at about 10:00, we cleaned up the recreation center for the last time. Home and showered by midnight.

Current Temperature: 1°

Basketball Tournament

Every year Alaska Mission runs a concession stand during a week-long basketball tournament. The tournament is the largest in the world with over 50 teams that participate. While it’s not the all-stars, the players are of varied abilities, ethnicities, and most are vertically challenged. As I wrote this post, I’m overheard a conversation that described this tournament as the time when all the small villagers come from miles around to what ends up being a giant family reunion. With such a reunion the families drink too much and this is when so much incest occurs.

Friday after I arrived I was assigned to relieve the leader of the stand and when I introduced myself to the leader, she assigned me to the cash drawer. Flexibility. There were no cash registers, no formal counting system, just folks throwing money at me and telling me what change they needed. I mostly got it right. This was a stretch…change, disorganization, no accountability. You’d have been proud of me.

Each night after the tournament, around 10:00, the entire crew of 65 people was responsible for tearing everything down, putting it away, and cleaning the entire recreation center. Bedtime would have been around midnight had there not been a team meeting and worship time following.

The proceeds raised during the tournament go to the Nome women’s shelter and to Logan, an autistic boy who responded to the Iditarod dogs by speaking his first word and would benefit from a Paws dog. I can’t think of two better beneficiaries of our efforts.

Iditarod Finish

One of our jobs as volunteers is to welcome in mushers when they approach the finish line. When the siren sounds we head to Front Street to welcome them along with several hundred other people. I arrived just in time to welcome Lachlan Clark and his dogs. He pulled off Norton Sound onto the street and the crowd cheered for about eight blocks before he pulled up onto the mound of snow holding the official finish line markers.

After an 1,150 mile race, Clark was received by camera people and interview questions to which he responded with kind tolerance. I imagine he might have wished for a hot tub, a good meal, and a soft bed. The dogs were received by infinitely more people who hugged, petted, and otherwise cooed over them. They responded with licks and wags, and then lay down on the ice until the reverie subsided.

This year all the mushers finished the Iditarod in record time and all are in before the big musher’s banquet we’ll host for them today. Today, I’ll be preparing the recreation center, preparing more food, serving the more than 1,000 people present, and cleaning up when we’re done. Through this practical ministry, I hope to be an example and to let God’s power flow through me as I come in contact with the mushers and the natives – like Jesus when the woman touched the edge of his garment.

Movie Review: The Blind Side

Was The Blind Side about helping the less fortunate? Or, was the movie about how people can be blessed by helping the less fortunate? Perhaps it was about an appropriate combination of both?

I often think of doing something for someone in need, just like Leigh Anne did for Michael, but I never do? Why? What prevents me from helping others in this way? Leigh Anne reflected on questions of security only after she’d invited Michael to stay. Leigh Anne had abundant financial resources. Do I require security and finances to be “ready” to help? Must the situation qualify as comfortable and convenient before I’ll be willing to participate? Must I have what I think I need before I’m willing to give someone else something they need?

Enough with the excuses. I realize safety is a real issue but if I am listening to the prompting of the Spirit there might be an abundance of ways to help that I could never even dream up. Paul said that those who are led by the Spirit are children of God (Romans 8:14) and so I should expect the Spirit to lead me…but I need to know how he does it.

Current Temperature: 14°

Flexibility

About a month ago, mission one organizer sent an email telling me they had my flight number and mission two organizer sent a payment receipt. That’s it. As I packed for Alaska, I realized how little I really know about the logistics of these mission trips. I guessed about most of what I might have needed to pack. Would I be inside most of the time? Outside? Would I be on my feet a lot? Would I be eating all fish? Would I have any free time? The questions are limitless.

My operations management nature wants to think the organizers are not very good organizers because we all know a last minute confirmation would have been useful and that more details would ensure a better experience for participants…right? Maybe not. I find myself remembering the post The Beginning of … What! that acknowledged a few of my less-than-lovely qualities, two of which included inflexibility and detail-orientation.

What’s funny is that I find myself thinking about the fact that I know so little of the details and perhaps a little of how I might have handled things differently, but I really have no worries about any of what might come my way. It’ll be a big surprise and I’m good with that. I’m not anxious, annoyed, or even irritated about having no clue what to expect. As a matter of fact, I’m kind of excited about all the surprises that lay ahead.

Please pray that this lack of expectations on my part leads to a greater sensitivity of the moving of the Holy Spirit so that I can be in the right place at the right time to meet the right needs. I’m sure the Twelve had no expectations when Jesus invited them to follow him (Matthew 4:19) and look what they helped start.

Current Temperature: 16°

Flying to Nome

As I fly to Nome, the view is worth recording. We passed no visible cities, not like flying between Grand Rapids and New York or anywhere else in the lower 48, but instead a water inlet full of melting ice chunks that gave way to snow covered mountains as far as could be seen. The sharp peaks turned to something smaller – based on a 34,000 foot view – with ribbons of white winding their way through the valleys. No green, nothing that looked like trees, but rather trees that looked more like moss on a hillside. One ribbon, a mature river, snaked back and forth in a tight winding pattern, while others meandered seldom off the straighter path. Occasionally the land became one solid piece of white with few peaks and valleys – a glacier maybe? A very large smooth white surface comes into view…what must be ice on water. The edge of the land, some places with a great cliff (based on the shadows cast by the sun), marks the transition from land to water. Unalakleet, Norton Sound.

At the center of this great white vastness cracks can be seen. Giant chunks of ice make straight-lined cracks, like the state lines of the central United States, and separate themselves from the main mass. Like something from a puzzle, the many-pieced white ice floats gently on the water. As the plane approaches the other side of the Sound and the impending land, the pieces of ice become larger with fewer cracks. Shadows of small fluffy clouds are cast on the ice below. Some ice melts and refreezes creating patterns of white and grey until they run into the land. I strain to see life, a polar bear maybe, to no avail. Those fluffy clouds overtake the view. The giant pieces of ice crush together making wrinkles around the edges. The dark water appearing between the cracks is all that is distinguishable as the cloud/ice colors wash together.

Speck houses dot the indiscernible shoreline, the entire bush village of Nome comes into view. A cross shaped runway welcomes us.

Arriving in Alaska

Cramming almost three weeks worth of gear, every layer of winter wear I could find, plus a big box of hand warmers into one suitcase was a near miracle. The question was, would said suitcase meet the weight limit? The case did meet the weight limit with two pounds to spare, but the security scanners didn’t love the chemicals in the hand warmers. After digging through my precariously packed suitcase to open and test the chemicals, the luggage was cleared. Oh drat, where’s my luggage lock?

Flights and other travel arrangements went as smoothly as they could have. Together with the woman sitting next to me – a medical records clerk stationed at Elmendorf Air Force Base in Alaska – we rented a movie player for the 6.5 hour flight (nope, movies aren’t free anymore). We watched The Blind Side and I tried hard not to cry through the whole thing.

I arrived at my hotel at about 11:00 p.m. (3:00 a.m. EST) last night. Slept until some little internal instinct said the clock read 3:30, my semi-normal wake up time at home, and then struggled to get a bit more sleep.

The lady making breakfast in the lobby, a Pittsburgh native, warned me to be sure to try all the foods offered to me in Nome as a manner of courtesy. She suggested there might be moose, musk ox, seal, and caribou and that some of those treats might be rather vile. Oh goodie!

I can hardly believe I’m in Alaska. I’ve seen the inside of the airport, the inside of a van, and the inside of my hotel room. Today, though, I expect to see some beautiful landscapes and some beautiful people.

Current Temperature: 33°

Leaving for Alaska

My plane departs at 4:40 p.m. today, stopping in Chicago on the way to Anchorage. Tomorrow I’ll get the next plane to Nome. I almost said that my journey is finally beginning, but you’ve been witnessing this journey for the past several months. You’ve been watching me work through my grief and healing, you’ve been watching me respond to a gracious God, and you’ve been seeing inside my heart. I hope you are not disappointed.

As I go, please pray that I would be protected from evil and that My Second Year purpose – to break down walls, build compassion, and show grace – would begin to be fulfilled. Pray that peace would continue and that the process of true transformation would be ignited and perpetuated. Mostly pray that the people I meet would find themselves loved a little more, hurting a little less, and at least one step closer to knowing the Source of all Love.

Watch every day as I post (depending on internet accessibility) the stories of the people I serve and the pictures of the land I see.

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand” (Isaiah 41:10).

Packing for Alaska

I began packing for the trip with the hope that all my winter gear would fit in one carry-on suitcase along with nearly three weeks worth of bare necessities. I knew the chances were slim, which was confirmed once I put the boots in the case…they pretty much filled up the space. I guess there is no getting around checking luggage.

-40° boots, ice grip thingies for the boots, hiking boots (tennis shoes aren’t warm enough), and slippers for walking around the church to and from the bathroom and such. Long underwear, Ricky’s goofy looking camouflage snow pants, and Max’s regular black snow pants. Scarf, pull over full face mask, mittens and over mittens that resist snow. Fleece jacket, winter jacket, and rain jacket. Regular clothes, sweats to sleep in, socks, undies, and the like. Yep, I might need all this stuff at the same time. I’ve also got to have three weeks worth of hand warmers, shampoo, toothpaste, q-tips, vitamins, laundry soap, and sun lotion (bright sun reflecting on the snow). My Bible, sunglasses, nail clippers, books, maps, instructions, and contact information are also needed. And my computer, of course…and some people think I need a phone. Am I missing anything? Oh ya, a towel…this isn’t the Hilton. What else?

What a lot of stuff! On one hand it’s embarrassing to own so much. On the other hand many of these items reflect a life lived in the joy of God’s creation.

IDITAROD UPDATE: Lance Mackey won the Iditarod yesterday for the fourth consecutive year.

Book Review: The Last Light Breaking

Nick Jans lived in Ambler, Alaska (2000 census population 309) for almost 15 years after having arrived in 1979. The Last Light Breaking is a collection of stories about his unique experiences related to living in an Arctic Circle, Inupiat Eskimo population. Recalling the Rethinking Alaska post about the mosquitoes, Jans is a great story teller.

He described the beauty of the Brooks Range as a place where “distant peaks sometimes appear inverted above the horizon, where you could walk for hours toward a hill you’d guessed was a mile away, where the sun rises at all points of the compass and sometimes casts pale ghosts of itself…” (p. 9).

“Fire at us” yelled a former Jans student. Jans described the tragedy of a house burning down in such a remote place. “There is no fire department in Ambler, no truck; only a few coils of hose and a large chemical extinguisher. In an emergency, people must depend on their neighbors and themselves.” “Fill all the pots and pans you can find!” he yells and then races 300 yards with his load of water (p. 174).

He described the reality of change when looking down from a plane over the Red Dog Mine, “I recognized the place I’d hunted caribou years before, and then the hill where I’d broken down once [on the snow machine], and another where I’d seen a sow grizzly with three cubs. All three spots were in sight of the road [leading to the mine]. I looked over at Paul [the pilot], muttering to himself under the engine’s roar. It’s just a road, I told myself. The country’s still there. I turned my face to the window and neither of us said anything more” (p. 207).

The author offered an in-depth sense of what life was like living among the Eskimos in the Brooks mountain range. It’s probably the best book on life in Alaska that I’ve read yet.

Parting the Red Sea

During the church service yesterday my pastor allowed me a moment to briefly share my mission journey and then he led the group to pray for me. What a wonderful revelation this experience was for me. People whom I’ve known more closely for many years were praying for me because they love me. People whom I’ve known only casually for a short time were praying for me because they love me. People whom I don’t know well at all were praying for me because they’re capable of loving before knowing me.

I realize the whole world doesn’t necessarily love me, but there was something so precious and revealing about some of these people who now know about my journey and are hungering alongside me to see the lives of the people I relate to changed. Becoming vulnerable to these people has awakened me to the power and wonderfulness of the body of Christ.

A beautiful young woman who grew up in Alaska approached me after the prayer and declared that this would be a journey where the waters are parted like Moses had done with the Red Sea. This is the second time I heard a message for me about the parting of the waters. I believe this image is very symbolic given the transition from the first to the second year of my grieving/healing journey, how Alaska will be a pivotal experience, and perhaps how this internal tug-of-war will finally be resolved. This young woman also declared that I would go with an authority over the enemy and that I should not be afraid but instead go with boldness…that the authority I have through Jesus would be strong in me.

“The waters were divided” (Exodus 14:21). Amen.

The Spaciousness of Love

The hallmark of a Christian life and relationship with God is love. In love, intimacy develops, which means that walls come down and vulnerability exists. Knowing and being known is one of the greatest risks of intimacy…and one of the greatest joys. Identifying with others in an intimate relationship helps us see through their eyes and helps us develop a shared purpose of shared loves.

Many people understand intimacy with Jesus as a one-on-one experience. Although an amazing gift, I am challenged to think of intimacy with Jesus as something much bigger. The more I get close to the One who loves me, the more I feel free to allow others to come close to me. Somehow that tight, personal intimate relationship with Jesus blossoms into a love for so many others. With Jesus, intimacy does not become diluted as more people are included.

Growing in intimacy with Jesus, my love can be transformed into something more spacious than I ever imagined possible.

God wanted an intimate love with the world so much that he gave his only son’s life just to have it (John 3:16).

Alaska is Pivotal

In my post called Mission Trip #1: Alaska, I talked about what going to Alaska means to me. It means having closure to the unfulfilled dream Rick and I shared. It means being awakened to my bucket list dream of serving in missions. It also means being obedient to God as he walks me through this transition from what I thought my life would be to what I know my life will become; through this transition of who I was to who I will be.

Looking forward to these experiences causes a little sadness, as I near departure that feeling seems to be intensifying. Yet, I know how pivotal this first mission trip will be. I’ll be letting go of that one last thing that was left undone and I will be looking forward to the adventure of My Second Year purpose that was specially designed by my Creator just for me.

I should not be surprised that my emotions are playing tug of war as the date approaches. I will not be surprised when God releases me from the old and helps me step into the new. This is not to say that I will never have moments of reflection or sadness, but instead that I will be free to move fully into this new journey.

Remember When...

Who will remember coming out of Madison Square Garden after a Cirque du Soleil performance only to turn and see the full moon shining through the fog right over the clock tower high up in the sky? Who will remember the reflection of the majestic, snow covered Grand Tetons in the sill evening waters of Oxbow Lake as the sun descended behind the mountain? Who will remember the pattern the bright stars make when watching from the Triple J on the very dark Top of Townsend?

Is beauty diminished when only one witness remains? Do memories fade when reminiscing is impossible?

As I prepare for this Alaska trip I think about the memories that I’ll be creating and I wonder who will remember them with me. There’s something about sharing such an experience with another person that is almost spiritual. Rick and I were blessed to have had some wonderful vacation experiences. Half the fun was looking forward to the vacation together and then reminiscing when we returned. Is it possible to find that sense of relationship created by a shared experience through the words I use to describe the experience to someone who wasn’t there? Will it be possible to find that sense of unity created by a shared experience through the photographs I take to show what my eyes saw to someone who wasn’t there?

Testimony of the Spirit

The orientation packet for the Iditarod mission did not include a lot of information about the evangelism piece of the mission. While I realize the mission is one of practical service, I do hope the group has time to talk about their previous mission experience and what has worked well for them. Testimonies of the Spirit would be so encouraging (1 Corinthians 1:5-7).

John 15:26 “When the Counselor comes, who I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who goes out from the Father, he will testify about me.”

Acts 5:32 “We are witnesses of these things, and so is the Holy Spirit, whom God has given to those who obey him.”

Romans 8:16 “The Spirit himself testified with our spirit that we are God’s children.”

1 Corinthians 1:5-7 “For in him you have been enriched in every way – in all your speaking and in all your knowledge – because our testimony about Christ was confirmed in you. Therefore you do not lack any spiritual gift as you eagerly wait for our Lord Jesus Christ to be revealed.”

1 John 4:2 “This is how you can recognize the Spirit of God: Every spirit that acknowledges that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God…”

1 John 5:6-8 “And it is the Spirit who testified, because the Spirit is the truth. For there are three that testify: the Spirit, the water and the blood; and the three are in agreement.”

Falling in Love with Jesus

As I sat in the Chicago airport waiting for my flight to Colorado Springs, I listened to the song More Like Falling in Love over and over. What is it about the 60 men and 3 women in their black business suits waiting for the same flight that prevents me from standing, lifting my arms, and twirling around as I worship the One I’m falling in love with while Jason Gray sings this song via YouTube?

The song lyrics describe exactly the way I want to love and to be loved. They perfectly describe how I am falling in love with Jesus all over again. They describe this deep, romantic, head-over-heels, amazing love I have for him. I never thought this kind of love was possible…um, appropriate…for a relationship with Jesus. But I’m finding I’m so willing to give myself up to him without reservation, without inhibition, without fear. He truly is soothing that deep heart ache that misses the love of my husband and friend.

“In that day,” declares the Lord, “you will call me ‘my husband’; you will no longer call me ‘my master’” (Hosea 2:16).

More Like Falling in Love

Give me rules
I will break them
Give me lines
I will cross them
I need more than a truth to believe
I need a truth that lives, moves, and breathes
To sweep me off my feet
It ought to be

More like falling in love
Than something to believe in
More like losing my heart
Than giving my allegiance
Caught up, called out
Come take a look at me now
It's like I'm falling, oh
It's like I'm falling in love

Give me words
I'll misuse them
Obligations
I'll misplace them
'Cause all religion ever made of me
Was just a sinner with a stone tied to my feet
It never set me free
It's gotta be

CHORUS

...It's like I'm falling in love, love, love
Deeper and deeper
It was love that made
Me a believer
In more than a name, a faith, a creed
Falling in love with Jesus brought the change in me

CHORUS

My Grief is Not Wasted

Sometimes I wonder if my grief experience will be of any use to the people I serve on these short-term mission trips. I, perhaps naively, sense that my response to this experience is pretty unique and may not resonate with others who are grieving deeply. I also don’t sense that “grief counseling” will be an emphasis in this year of ministry work. This is not to say that the occasion will never arise but instead that it will not be a focus.

I welcome the opportunity to share about the wonderful life Rick and I had, about the joy and the pain that creates deep, meaningful love. I welcome the opportunity to share about that sunny afternoon when the police knocked at my door. I welcome the opportunity to share about this amazing journey of hope and healing, and about this Jesus who loves me so tenderly.

I know these experiences aren’t wasted even if they’re never shared in the context of grieving. Yet, I believe that God will honor my story and use it to help me be a blessing to others and to help me allow others to be a blessing to me. Knowing this, I can go with confidence about the direction my service will take and with a heightened awareness of those moments, just the right moments, when God will chose to speak to someone else through my life in some quiet way.

“But everyone who prophesies speaks to men for their strengthening, encouragement and comfort” (1 Corinthians 14:3).

Can Watching Movies Build Compassion?

Rick used to record movies at work and bring home the VHS tapes for us to watch. He’d recorded so many movies that I still have about 50 to watch even 15 months after he died. The Hallmark movies were typically my favorites, but inevitably he was the one to cry his way through them. Who didn’t cry through a Hallmark movie, right? The answer was…me. I was just not a crier. My lens tended to be one of intellect, rationality, and logic more so than one of compassion. This is not to say that I never cried at movies (Beaches, Pay it Forward, Jerry Maguire), but generally I approached movies with a sense of detachment.

Given Rick’s death, you might not be surprised to see me cry during movies especially when someone dies. But no! I don’t cry when people die tragically (perhaps my heart isn’t ready to go there yet?). Instead, I cry when people do nice things for one another, when they hurt, when they overcome impossible odds. I cry when watching movies or television, when listening to music, or when reading books. Something inside is moved, my world gets a little off kilter. What is this thing?

I realize crying is not necessarily a measure of compassion and crying about movies might not even count. But I also find that this reaction is new for me. I find this response is ever so slowly transferring to my response to people, whether I know them or not. What does all this mean? I don’t know but what I love about this new awakening is the positive effect it’s having on my relationships…ever so slightly, little by little.

Please do not read that I am a cold-hearted person or that I don’t care about the people I love. Please also don’t hear that I perceive myself to all of the sudden be the most compassionate person either. I am just acknowledging a possible change, a transformation.

“Oh, that my head were a spring of water and my eyes a fountain of tears! I would weep day and night for the slain of my people” (Jeremiah 9:1).

Iditarod Begins Today

Today the Iditarod begins in Anchorage and will finish when the last mushers reach Nome. Last year’s winner came in on March 18 at 11:38 in the morning which means there is a good chance I will see the arrival of this year’s winner. The current standings for the 2009 Iditarod revealed that Lance Mackey of Fairbanks, Alaska won the 2009 Iditarod for the third consecutive year. Sebastian Schnuelle of Whitehorse, Canada came in second in the 2009 race. John Baker of Kotzebue, Alaska came in third in the 2009 race. The musher listing for 2010 shows that all three are racing again this year. It seems prudent to be familiar with the faces of the likely winners given that I’ll be serving the mushers in some way while in Nome.



Dear God, I pray these men would see you in the trail marked for their journey, in the beauty of your white world, in the loyalty of their dogs, in the cheers of the people, and in me as I welcome them to Nome. Show up today as they depart and give them an endurance for this race that they’ve never known before. Finally, I pray that they would acknowledge you in all these things. Amen.

Conflicted?

Various observers of My Second Year journey will have different perspectives about what my journey means, what is right or wrong for my journey, or some judgment about the validity of my journey. I appreciate that idea so much so that when someone questions me I prayerfully examine their criticism.

Am I conflicted about the issues raised? Absolutely. On one hand, I am so thankful that there are people in this world who love me enough to raise questions when they see something they are fearful about. I’m thankful these people have never had a grief experience that forces upon them some change that is extraordinarily difficult. On the other hand, I am saddened that there are people in this world who may not have had a truly intimate experience with God. I’m sad they may have never had an experience so profound that their whole being, the whole way they live their lives is transformed forever.

Just in case there are any lingering questions, let me try to explain my journey in a new way. I am in the will of God. I am doing what He has called me to do. I will not waver. I will not be discouraged. I will not be distracted. Out of the mouth of my son and in the words of my husband, “If this is what you feel God wants you to do, I think you should go for it!”

“It is the Spirit who gives life; the flesh is no help at all” (read John 6:63-65).

Book Review: Serving with Eyes Wide Open

The book addresses the need for cultural intelligence when doing short-term missions. Livermore points out that “the combined income of the 447 wealthiest people in the world is more money than the combined income of 50% of the world’s population” (p. 22). This, among various other snapshots, opens my eyes to the enormity of global issues. By all examples, a reader might begin to wonder whether he or she would be doing more harm than good in serving on a short-term mission trip.

A focus on cultural intelligence provides ways to nurture growth and effectiveness when serving. Read the book to learn about knowledge CQ or the level of knowing about cross-cultural differences often gained through study. Learn about interpretive CQ and about the accurate interpretation of the cues received from cross-cultural experiences. Understand perseverance CQ to measure the degree of commitment in pushing through cultural conflicts. And know about behavioral CQ to develop the ability to act appropriately when interacting cross-culturally.

The author does not promise that the most culturally intelligent individual will emerge following the reading, but instead prompts readers to be mindful and to practice some of the skills before serving in short-term missions. The book was a great read only if you’re willing to deeply explore your own attitudes and to be humbled by the ignorance you may have been in before reading. In the end, the lifelong journey of short-term missions and cultural intelligence are worth the effort so that I might love others better.

Is Healing for Today?

My pastor teaches that physical healing is for today. I generally tend to land on the fence, though. One thing I know for sure is that God cannot be limited by what I think or believe. I know that he is big enough to do whatever he wishes according to his purpose and glory. And, I believe he does sometimes heal people because of the requests of his people.

I know that I know that I know that God heals the heart. He gives grace and peace and mercy and forgiveness, which are healing agents. Why, then, would God not also give physical healing? God told the disciples to preach and to heal, why would the preach part be for today but not the heal part? I pray healing over people and believe it is possible but I doubt that it will happen. What is the root of my fence riding? Why do I believe and yet hesitate? How is my ambiguous attitude hindering others? Do I need to let go of old attitudes and make room for his supernatural power?

Baptists, those I’ll be serving under for this Alaska mission, do not believe the gift of healing (or speaking in tongues) is for today. How shall I conduct myself when faced with a need for healing? Should I have the boldness of Christ or should I behave according to the customs of the people there?

“Accept him whose faith is weak, without passing judgment on disputable matters” (Romans 14:1).

Teaching, Preaching, and Healing

“Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the good news of the kingdom, and healing every disease and sickness among the people” (Matthew 4:23, 9:35). He also empowered the disciples to drive out demons, cure disease, preach the good news, and heal the sick (Luke 9:2). “So they set out and went from village to village, preaching the gospel and healing people everywhere” (Luke 9:6).

Is this empowerment for today? Can I claim this authority in Jesus’ name? I more easily accept the empowerment given to preach the Gospel. Although I’m embarrassed to say that I seldom practice this gift, this empowerment is socially acceptable and even expected of Christians today. But what about healing the sick? Some people argue that the power to heal the sick is not for today. Questions and doubt surround the idea of physical healing because sometimes people die even when healing is claimed in Jesus’ name.

What does this mean for me? Should I teach, and preach, and heal while on these mission trips? I think the answer lies in loving and being devoted to those I serve (Romans 12:9-21).

Handing Out Tracts

Integrating mission with the Iditarod creates opportunities to connect with people, opportunities that would otherwise not be available. I hope to take advantage of every such opportunity to the best of my Father’s courage. The orientation document says that we’ll be given 50 tracts to hand out and should do so each time we shake someone’s hand. I have to admit that I’ve never been a big fan of tracts and at the same time I cannot identify the specific reason for this attitude. Perhaps fear. Perhaps the cheesy factor. Perhaps they’re outdated. Perhaps they’re impersonal.

My own resistance/attitudes, though, are a stumbling block for those in need of God’s Word. Discounting tracts as effective also discounts God’s ability to meet people where they are. Tracts are not intended to replace personal sharing but they are a way to open the door to a deeper relationship. I need to change my attitude, be familiar with the information specific to the tract, and rely on God for courage. Doing something is better than doing nothing.

Charles Spurgeon said, “When preaching and private tale are not available, you need to have a tract ready…get good striking tracts, or none at all…therefore, do not go out without your tracts… Let each one of us, if we have done nothing for Christ, begin to do something now. The distribution of Gospel tracts is the first thing."