Did You Catch One?

“Did you catch one?” asked 4 year old Cameron as I reeled in my lure from the front of my grandpa’s pontoon boat. “No, not yet. But I’ve already caught five keepers, Cam,” I replied. I’d caught 6 fish in less than an hour—and I was not the only one catching anything—yet still Cameron wanted to see more fish catching, more action, more entertainment.

Children often ask for more. You give one a cookie and she immediately wants another one, before she’s finished chewing the first. You throw a kid in the air to hear him tickled with glee, and then the first thing he says is, “Do it again!” …and again, and again.

I may have more discipline now when it comes to asking for cookies or patience in fishing, but I’m still guilty of a childish desire for the next thrill.

Sitting with my back against our dwindling campfire later that night, I told my cousin, “I want to see another shooting star.” We had just seen a meteor zip across the sky and explode in the earth’s atmosphere, but I wanted to see another. My verbalized wish was almost immediately granted with a quick flash across the night sky. Then I caught my next thought: it was “More!”

As adults we may have more years than children, but we often operate on the same principles—only with more tact. We’re better at covering up our selfish desires and more subtle about our need for thrills.

Driving up to Nebraska this week I had 10 hours alone in the car to reflect on my summer in Central America. I rejoiced in all the beautiful moments and sights and relationships, but I also had the same, old doubts resurface. Where is this God I’m trying to follow? Why don’t I feel him? Here I’ve just had a refreshing summer full of examples of God’s faithfulness in my life, but still I ask where he is.

The key is remembering.

The Bible talks often of remembering what God has done for us. Old Testament rituals and celebrations emphasized re-living miraculous works of God. Yet the Israelites still forgot God as quickly as he blessed them. Communion/The Lord’s Supper is a sacrament to remember what Christ has done for us, yet we still turn back to sin. I have to keep choosing to turn to God and remember what he has done for me.

The morning of fishing and stargazing, I read Psalm 23. The psalmist says the shepherd “makes me lie down in green pastures,” “leads me beside still waters” and “restores my soul.” Here I was sitting next to my Grandpa’s green lawn and the glossy, still lake with a peace of soul. The last time I read the chapter I was in a bus headed into San Salvador. I’d read “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for you are with me.” Little did I know I’d end up staying in a dangerous part of town that night, but I was kept safe. It’s important for me to continually remember what God has done in my life. With my child’s memory I quickly forget the small blessings and miracles in my life.

We need habits of returning our minds to God’s wondrous works, and often the best way is reading the Bible. Lord, help us remember what you’ve done for us.

Resting in God's Amazing Grace: Summary of My Summer from the Side of a Volcano

For my last full day in Central America, I decided to hike Volcán Atitlán, the highest of three enormous volcanoes rising high above Lake Atitlán in Guatemala. Peaking at 11,600 feet in elevation, Atitlán towers 6,500’ up from the water with a steep grade for hiking

Being a difficult hike isn’t the reason why so few people hike Atitlán; stories tell it is too dangerous because of people. They say that trekkers are extremely likely to get held up at gunpoint or knifepoint, that the gangs or thieves steal your stuff  and take your shoes so you can’t chase them. Well, I was up for it. I’m adventurous, daring, in shape from a month hiking in Costa Rica. I just planned to get robbed and was practicing in my head how to explain in Spanish that I only have water, food and Bible verses (while trying to hide the iPod touch).

I set out after breakfast, excited for the day. I treaded quietly once I hit the trial, slightly paranoid about the stories (well, possibly more than slightly). I pushed up the mountain with a vigorous stride. I had a lot of ground to cover, a lot of work to do, to get to the top. Guatemalans working on the volcano also don’t seem to need switchbacks, so the trail was quite steep, feeding my ability to be an achiever in this hike.

After an hour and a half of strenuous climbing I had a spectacular view of distant Volcán De Fuego and Acatenango beyond the wide plains and other mountain ridges, and the conical peak of Volcán Atitlán loomed above. The beauty stopped my quick pace to stare out at the scene and let the valley’s breeze cool my perspiration. I’ve seen a lot of beauty this summer, and on the eve of leaving Guatemala I’m glad to reflect back on it and enjoy some more.

The volcanic rock trail was well used through the landscape, but not like recreational trails in National Parks. Coffee farmers, corn growers, woodcutters and lumber jacks use these trails, and there is a whole network of paths working their way up the mountain.

Blazing my way past coffee, corn and avocados, I rose above the clouds. I wondered why the hiking trail was going through corn fields as I pushed the large, green leaves to the side. Chance would have it that I’d gone the wrong way. I got to the top of the highest field. I was only about 1,000 or 1,500 feet from the peak of this volcano, but I could not continue any further with no path through the thick brush and cloud forest.

Oops.

Then in the tall corn stalks I saw Francisco, working at 10,000+ feet—a two-hour uphill commute from his home. The hard-working Guatemalan explained to me in Spanish that I’d taken the wrong way up, and the trail for the peak was a quarter of the way around the volcano. I understood enough to know that it was a very long way back and I’d made a grave error in coming up this way.

Running back down the trail I’d worked so hard to come up, I couldn’t help but be frustrated at myself for taking the wrong route. If only I’d gone the right way the first time. “Regresa” echoed in my head from Francisco’s instructions. You have to regress—to go back. If only I’d gone the right way the first time.

It’s a lot easier to go the right way the first time instead of having to repent and go back.

I was also frustrated that I probably wouldn’t be able to summit this volcano anymore. The setback from error was too critical to be able to make up enough ground before I’d need to head down before sunset and dinner. I kept hiking though, getting a fair bit further up the right path, and taking a few more wrong paths. I had to ask more Guatemalans for help. Some gave good guidance; some pointed me the wrong direction, making me appreciate the value of good advice. I had to call it a day before my legs got any weaker as I heard the thunderclouds drifting towards me. No mountaintop triumph today.

I hiked enough to have gotten to the top if I’d taken the right path. I would have made it in time. But after taking wrong trails, there was no way I could get to the top. I hiked all day for one of the biggest hikes of my life, but I didn’t make it. Sitting with the truth of my limitation is not easy. I want to achieve. I want to get there by myself.

Once I turned around to run back down, a fresh wave of joy hit me as I felt peace in not needing to get to the top. The journey has been beautiful, and that is enough. What a reminder to rest in God’s grace! Here on the last day of my summer sabbatical God reminded me that He is enough for me—His grace is enough—and learning to rest in that truth brings joyous freedom.

I ran down the mountainside in amazement as my eyes and feet thought quickly to hit the right rocks and avoid the dangerous roots. Being reminded that I’m good enough without achieving anything, I began to sing out the beautiful, old hymn, “Amazing Grace.”

Here are the words of the song with reflections on the themes of my summer:

Amazing grace! How sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me!

I once was lost, but now am found,

Was blind but now I see!

Looking back on the past two months, I’ve been able to spend much time reflecting on the grace that is in my life. I meditated on God’s Word in the Jungle House. I memorized Ephesians 2:8-10 in three languages: English, Greek and Spanish. I experienced God’s blessing on my trip. Living in the city, it is easier for me to forget the grace I’ve been given, but away from the human-created urban world it's harder to forget the God who made me. The more I think about grace, the more real it becomes… and the more I want to share it with others.

T’was grace that taught my heart to fear,

And grace my fears relieved.

How precious did that grace appear

The hour I first believed.

Even though I strive to fear God, I often fear man and strive to please them. Being in Central America provided me with time to remember God and to pray. I got away from big names, from big money, and from big things to do. I didn’t have to worry about my appearance, my clothing, my accomplishments. Grace is enough. Did I get to memorize scripture, study the Greek New Testament, and practice Spanish, according to my goals? Yes, but in freedom. I got experience freedom from the fear of man and relief from my normal busyness.

Through many dangers, toils and snares

I have already come;

‘Tis grace that brought me safe thus far

And grace will lead me home.

The hike was dangerous—I could’ve been robbed, broken an ankle, run out of water or been attacked by animals, but I wasn’t. God brought me through many dangerous circumstances this summer. Before leaving the US, I asked for prayers for health, for safety, and for protection from various temptations. God faithfully protected me from all kinds of sickness, disease, injury, crimes, and lusts. This is no small miracle for two months of traveling alone in Central America. Now I’ve been led home with habits of grace that I hope to continue until I reach my eternal home.

When we’ve been there ten thousand years

Bright shining as the sun

We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise

Than when we’ve first begun.

I spent the summer in some of the most beautiful places this world offers, in some of the most pleasant climates, with a most peaceful pace of life—but it wasn’t paradise. Life on this earth is still painful, lonely, uncomfortable, no matter where we go or how much money we have or spend. I look forward to a day when God reveals a new heaven and a new earth, and when the family of God comes together in glory.

Thank you for all your prayers for me this summer. I have many people to thank for your support, advice, and encouragement. Above all, praise God for his grace in my life.

The Family of God: Who's In?

Adoption into the family of God is a beautiful thing, but how do we know who our relatives are? In my last blog post I wrote about finding Christian brothers and sisters during my time in Costa Rica. These heart-encouraging friends came as a refreshing contrast to those who didn’t believe as I do. But while these friends definitely felt like fellow adopted brothers and sisters, other acquaintances seemed like distant cousins. How do I know if they’re even in the body of Christ? Are they just odd family members or are they posers? Since we’re all adopted, it’s hard to tell who is in the family and who’s not (if anyone’s excluded…).

Now I need to say very clearly: I don’t claim to know who is in the family of God.

I can’t know who’s in God’s family, because I’m not God; that’s why this post is difficult for me to write. Yet I do know what God has revealed to us about the adoption process and the signs for who’s in the fam.

Who’s in?

The Bible explains that through our sin and disobedience to God, humankind was separated from God. “God is light, and in him is no darkness at all,” says 1 John 1:5. God had to separate us from Himself once we took on the impurity of sin, and there is no way we can overcome the distance by ourselves. Because of our sin, the only possible result for a righteous God was punishment with death. “But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even while we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved,” explains Ephesians 2:4-5, revealing the beautiful redemption we can receive through Jesus Christ who died for us. 

So how do we get adopted? “Through Jesus Christ,” says Ephesians, in accordance with God’s pleasure and will. God wants us to be his family, and we can be… if we accept the offer. Jesus already died in our place, but the Bible tells us we must also humbly turn from sin—having faith that being in God’s family is worth following Jesus. 1 John 1:9 explains that “if we confess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” The simple but monumental step is the good news offered to us called the Gospel. I write about it often, but only because I can tell no more important story.

Okay, so I get it… I believe that Jesus died for my sins and rose from the dead. Now what? How do you know I’m in?

Well, that’s the tough part. We’ve all known way too many “Christians” who don’t act any different than anyone else. Yet the Apostle James says that “faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.” We’re supposed to be able to tell Christians apart because they obey the word of God—loving others, denying themselves, living generously. Jesus said, 

Let me give you a new command: Love one another. In the same way I loved you, you love one another. This is how everyone will recognize that you are my disciples—when they see the love you have for each other.

Christians are supposed to be marked by love. Historically, we often have been—Christians stand up for human life even when it’s mangled, imperfect, old, deformed, or dangerous to do so. Christians give up comforts to serve the poor. Christians die for the message they believe.

Addressing Christian Universalism

Why are not all people in the family of God? Why isn’t everyone saved? These are some difficult questions I’ve come to wrestle with through interactions here in Guatemala. Christian Universalism holds that all people will ultimately be reconciled God without any eternal punishment for sin. The view is extremely appealing. Who wants to believe that people are going to hell? Doesn’t that make God seem unloving?

The questions are weighty; answers are not easy. Exclusivism is quite distasteful. Last week I sat in a metal school building discussing these ideas with a friend. As distant sunlight trickled in through the door across dusty concrete floors, we both felt the burden of differing theologies/beliefs about God and salvation.

Looking to the Bible for truth, I’ve been studying Romans—a book I feel intimidated by for its dense theology. Romans 8 says, “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” For those who are in Christ Jesus. In Christ Jesus. Everyone? No, it doesn’t seem so. Saint Paul writes that “Anyone who does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him.” Hmm. He isn’t condemning anyone; instead, he is making clear that there is no condemnation for those adopted into the family of God through Christ.

Paul is rejoicing in the grace given to those of us who believe. I still must soberly ask, what about the others? Will they not be saved? Why not? In the next chapter of Romans, Paul writes:

What shall we say then? Is there injustice on God’s part? By no means! For he says to Moses, “I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion.” So then it depends not on human will or exertion, but on God, who has mercy.

God chooses who will receive mercy? It seems unfair to my human way of thinking. I wish Paul wrote more about those who are not in Christ Jesus. Doesn’t the Bible also say that God “is the Savior of all people,” and “love never fails”? These are tough questions, yet I have to humbly hear Paul’s caution: “Who are you, O man, to answer back to God?” I’m limited in my thinking by my humanity. I don’t understand the ways of God; but if His Word says some receive mercy and some don’t, I have to stop questioning at some point and believe. I know belief in condemnation is not popular. I know it’s not “tolerant” of other religions and beliefs. I think I’d rather believe all will ultimately be saved, but the idea doesn’t sit well with me.

I feel that universalism sucks the power out of the Gospel. If all will ultimately be saved, what’s the point in belief? What’s the point in following God in this life? Why all the talk about faith and belief in the Bible? Why all the commands? Wouldn’t it be easier to say, “Enjoy life and the fact you’re all okay.”?

If all will ultimately be saved, I’m wasting my life trying to tell others about what I believe. It’s that simple; the point of Christian Universalism is pivotal for me. If I’m wrong, which I very well could be, then I’m causing people unnecessary trouble by preaching this Gospel. If I’m wrong, then I’m giving my heart unnecessary burden by praying for “the unsaved.”  But if my beliefs are in line with truth, then I absolutely ought to tell anyone I can that salvation is available to them. I absolutely ought to be less “open-minded,” because one way will prove to be right in the end. I’ve put all my chips in trusting Jesus Christ.     

So there it is. I’m a mere human, so I don’t entirely understand the work of God. I appeal to the Bible because I don’t have anything else to hold on to. I don’t have any experience of the afterlife or any view into heaven. What I do have is what I believe to be the Word of God given to us in a written form, and it’s truer than anything else I’ve ever read. God is God. I am not. Jesus tells us the mysteries of God are such that He has “hidden these things from the wise and understanding and revealed them to little children.” Ultimately I have to trust God as my Father and rest in gratitude for the grace I’ve been given.

The Family of God

The body of Christ, as we call the community of those who believe in Jesus Christ, is more than a social group. A body is an intimately united and complex whole made of symbiotic parts. We need each other in the body of Christ; we by necessity have mutual dependence. We are family. I love being in my community with other believers in the United States, but this summer had a different objective for me.

I chose to spend last month alone in Costa Rica. I came by myself. I rented a small, isolated house for solitude. Even so, I wasn’t trying to cut myself off from the Body of Christ. I need community. Coming to Costa Rica alone helped me experience Christian community in a new way, as I recount in the following observations and stories…

When I am in a more secular context, the joy I feel when I meet Christians around the world is increased.
When I find an English speaker, especially with a warm American accent, after having to communicate in Spanish or with body language, I can talk at ease; similar is the peace I find in conversation with another believer. Like the pride I feel for my country gazing upon the embassy of the United States of America, so the confidence I feel in my faith looking at a cathedral. We feel a connection with things familiar to us more poignantly while in a foreign context, but the connection to other Christians goes deeper--a connection of souls. 

Characteristics of the Family

The community of those who profess a belief in Jesus Christ is a family. We use familial terms—brother, sister, mother, father. We operate in a gift economy; we give tithes and gifts generously without requiring reciprocity. These are not commercial transactions (and shouldn’t be, for the church loses her identity when she becomes a business).

In the family of God we can immediately trust each other and desire to get to know each other, even if we’ve never met, just as you extend yourself to someone who shares your blood and DNA at a family reunion. Churches are like the homes of my relatives—I’m welcome there, as if I belong and have part-ownership.

I went to a couple of churches for a few weeks in a Costa Rican city near the Jungle House. No churches there were in English, so I found it a bit hard to follow the sermons and communicate with others. But I did find joy in the one day a week where I had an immediate community of people I’d never met. The Iglesias helped give me a sense of what the Lord told the Apostle Paul in Acts: “For I have many in this city who are my people” (18:10).

Unexpected Brothers

One evening after watching the sunset on the beach, a young, Californian surfer dude took notice of my Biola shirt. Immediately we were in a greatly encouraging conversation, discovering commonality of purpose in being here to learn God’s Word and sharing a joy for getting to be a part of His mission. I never saw James again, but our exchange heartened my spiritual life all week. Perhaps the best part of meeting James was that he introduced me to another “hermano”—a brother in Christ—Juan, whose fruit stand we had been standing under.

Juan, a middle-aged Tico with a loveable potbelly and a gentle, irresistible smile in a stubble beard, quietly moves around his frutería as he works and interacts with buyers and sellers. One day while waiting for the bus I ducked under Juan’s canopy to avoid the rain and buy a plantain. I asked him very simply in Spanish, “So you believe in Jesus Christ?” His answer, as he put his hand over his heart and his eyes teared up with deepest sincerity, I will never forget: “Es mi todo.” When Juan, a man of few words, said “He’s my all,” he conveyed that Jesuscristo is all he lives for, all that has sustained him through hardship, all his hope in life. I’m trying to make him my all too.

On another beach day, after talking with different people searching for spiritual significance apart from the God of the Bible, I stopped by Juan’s fruit stand and with sadness mentioned to him, “There aren’t many Christians around here.” Juan was the only other Christian I knew in town. He nodded with understanding, then gave me a reply that was the exact encouragement I needed, quoting Jesus’ words: “Where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I with them” (Matthew 18:20). That’s powerful. Even with different languages, cultures, backgrounds and ages, Juan and I had in each other a bond in Jesus Christ that stirs the soul.

The Search for Donald

The day I was discouraged by the lack of Christians in my little surfer beach town, I had actually been hoping to find a missionary from the U.S. who I’d heard about through a new neighbor. She said Donald and his young family helped transform a small community with love and described something about this family of Christians made her take notice. I was so desperate to find the brother in Christ I’d even asked a random guy at the coffee shop if he was Donald, perchance, thinking he matched the description I’d been given. I prayed the entire week that somehow I’d be able to meet Donald. I needed the encouragement of my family in Christ.

On the eve of leaving my quiet corner of Costa Rica, I walked along the beach and stared out at where the river pushes itself into the ocean with colliding currents and waves. As the rains came and soaked my body and my jeans, I stood questioning why God wouldn’t let me meet Donald. I don’t know what gave me such a strong desire to find him, but I felt confident I would meet him and had not been able to. His phone hadn’t work when I’d tried to call; I couldn’t find him in the streets of the small beach town. Now I was wet and discouraged.

Finally, the morning I was to take buses back to the capital, San José, I tried Donald’s number one more time. He picked up. I told him of our mutual friend, and inquired if we could meet before my afternoon bus. He told me he would be leading a basketball camp the next town over from the hostel where I’d stayed. Perfect! I walked the 4 kilometers to the school and came up to the group as complete stranger. But I was warmly welcomed by a pastor from the mission trip group working with Donald. I got to meet the team of Americans from a Baptist church in Georgia and talk with a few of their pastors—Oh how encouraging! I walked into a family reunion after only expecting to find one brother!

Eventually I did get to meet Donald. With great gratitude to God, I got to share with Donald a love for Costa Rica and a heart for the people. Donald isn’t a missionary superstar; he’s more than aware he hasn’t been to seminary and his Spanish isn’t great. He calls himself an amateur, but humility is exactly what makes Donald exceptional. He’s a guy from the pews who followed his faith to the point of packing up his family and moving to a foreign country to love people with the good news of Jesus Christ. He’s faithful, and he has a heart for people.

After a sincere, meaningful prayer with Donald, two of the pastors drove me back to get my stuff for the bus and listened to me tell stories of God’s faithfulness in my life as they blessed me with lunch and $20. I didn’t deserve any of it. I’m just a child of a God who has a whole lot to give.

Ana’s Hospitality

Back in San José that evening, I was again welcomed into Ana’s house. Ana is the one who left work to pick me up from the airport when I first arrived in Costa Rica, and helped orient me and get my bus to the jungle house. She’s wonderful, and is a sister in Christ. I’d never even met Ana before coming to her country; she welcomed me with motherly care because of an email from my aunt, who knew Ana when her family lived in Costa Rica as missionaries.

Ana exhibited the best of hospitality while I was with her. She bought my dinners, made me impressive breakfasts, packed my lunch to-go. She gave up her room for me (though I didn’t know this for sure until I facebooked her nephew after I left). She worked her schedule around me, even taking two half days off work to show me around San José. She even gave me gifts: a coffee thermos and an LED keychain flashlight.

Ana didn’t have anything to gain by her generosity to me. She was just being faithful to use her life and resources as God’s. I have a lot to learn about being in the family of God from a more mature believer like Ana.

I love being in the family of God. I love the fellowship of other believers. I love that this community is spread all over the earth, where I can show up in countries and find that God has people there. The family of God transcends time and space. Indeed, much of my encouragement on this trip has been from writings of men of the Bible, long dead, or from prayers and emails from friends and family, who are in other parts of the world. Participation in the worldwide community of believers is a magnificent gift of encouragement for those who follow Jesus Christ.

Perhaps the most beautiful thing about the family of God is that no one has earned her place in it. None of us deserve to be called God’s children or receive part in his inheritance. We’re all adopted. Ephesians 1:5 says, “In love God predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will.” Again, Galatians 3:26 tells us, “So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God in faith.” I don’t merit the benefits of being in the family of God. I’m adopted in, through my faith in Jesus, and I’m incredibly grateful to have such a wonderful family.