Be Careful What You Pray

 

“…the voice of the Lord saying: ‘Whom shall I send’...”  Isaiah 6:8

I’d always heard people say “be careful what you pray for because you just might get it” and wondered what the negative might be on that.  It seemed like it would be a good thing to receive something you had wanted. Once we began serving in ministry, I learned that when you ask God to send help somewhere, be ready to pack your bags.

Following our service in Georgetown, God continued to allow us to respond as part of disaster relief teams to help the families impacted by South Carolina’s “historic flood.”   We prayed that God would send volunteers, so He answered that prayer by having Jack become the director of RebuildSC in April 2016.  RebuildSC, a grant-funded initiative of SC Baptist Disaster Relief, was created to rebuild houses damaged in the flood.  Jack provided assistance to the two work sites: Georgetown (coordinated by Georgia Baptist Disaster Relief) and Johnsonville (coordinated by North Carolina Baptists on Mission). We are forever grateful for our neighboring states who gave selflessly to help us. When Hurricane Matthew’s destruction in October 2016 caused damage in both SC and NC, North Carolina Baptists on Mission left Johnsonville to address the devastation in their own state.  Jack and I moved our camper to the parking lot of Johnsonville Baptist Church and became the on-site coordinators.

What amazing volunteers God sent to serve in Johnsonville!  More than 2600 volunteers came from 13 states. They represented 392 churches of 17 denominations and 14 colleges.  They installed metal and shingle roofs. They rebuilt floor joists, replaced sub-floors and installed laminate flooring. They rebuilt windows, doors, ceilings and walls. They built steps, ramps, decks and porches. They replaced toilets and showers and sinks. They installed cabinets and shelves.  They restored families by showing God’s love.

In June 2017 we moved our camper to Marion County and began ministering in the town of Nichols which had been under 3 ½ feet of water for a week and a half following Hurricane Matthew.  Again, God provided volunteers to serve the families whose lives had been forever changed by rain.

Just as we thought RebuildSC was winding down, Hurricane Florence hit South Carolina in September 2018 and we moved to Conway.  Through the generosity of North Conway Baptist Church, Jack and I lived in a Sunday school classroom for eight months as we coordinated volunteers to serve.  The program ended in September 2019 but God gave us one more family to serve…

The Rain. The Flood. Now, Go.

“The rain. I feel the rain. I feel it falling down on me. “ The lyrics of that old gospel song ran through my head as I watched the newscasts of the deluge of rain on our South Carolina towns. I don’t know why God brought it to mind.

It was a regular song at my grandmother’s church. I can see her clapping her hands to the rhythm of the song – clapping being acceptable in the Church of God at least thirty years before it started surfacing in our Baptist churches. She beamed brightly as she sang. The joy of the Lord was so evident in my grandmother.

“It’s the Holy Ghost rain and it’s falling down on me.” She’d look heavenward as she added an extra little clap into the beat of the music. She was one of the happiest people I’ve ever known. My grandmother is in Heaven now where there are no floods, no pain, no suffering.
 
As Jack and I prepare for our second disaster relief deployment to the Georgetown area, we are aware that it is already getting difficult to get volunteers to go to the flood zone. We all have such busy schedules that it’s hard to fit an emergency into our calendars. It will be a long recovery and many thousands of volunteers will be needed. We, as South Carolinians, need help.

Thousands and thousands of volunteers have been through Southern Baptist disaster relief training and have never had the opportunity to minister to the survivors of a disaster. There is room for everyone to be involved. This is the time to ask God how you will serve.

Maybe we need a little more rain, and I’m not talking about the weather. Maybe we need the Holy Spirit to rain on us, filling us with love for our neighbors in need, filling us with so much compassion that we get on our smartphones to rearrange our work schedules, our play schedules and yes, our church schedules. To many victims of disasters, we are the only Church in their lives. We have been called to be witnesses. It’s time to stop making excuses and go.
 

“But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be My witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”     Acts 1:8

Through It All

We were out of town on a mission project staying in our camper at a nearby campground.  There was only one place in the park to get internet, and I admit to using my magicphone only a couple of times to check email.

Having gotten the news that my biopsy results were “suspicious” and that surgery was recommended, I’d had a few days for my mind to begin creating various scenarios for the outcome.  Of course I’d been praying for healing, something instantaneous and undeniably God --something that would eliminate the need for surgery.

Millions of people live comfortable lives without their thyroids; in fact, six people in my family have had thyroid surgery.  None of them had cancer.  None of them had suspicious biopsies.  Surely mine won’t be cancer.

Of all the various scenarios I’d painted in my mind, the obvious first choice was to be healed, next would be that the nodule would be benign (something they wouldn’t know until after surgery and pathology reports) and no additional surgery needed.  The remaining possibilities were nothing I really wanted to consider.

Praying for healing.  Praying for wisdom.  Praying for healing.  Praying for peace. Praying for healing. Praying for guidance. Praying for healing. Praying for comfort. Praying for healing.  We both prayed for an answer, for God to speak to us.

One morning I awoke with the sun shining brightly through the camper window and the lyrics of a song running through my mind  “through it all, through it all, my eyes are on You. Through it all, through it all, it is well...”   an awesome song from Bethel Music.

I smiled.  That was the answer.  I just needed to keep my eyes on Him through this whole situation.  And, I loved another phrase from the song – “the waves and wind still know His Name.”  He, the One who is Omnipotent, is all I need.

The very next Sunday, we sang that song “It Is Well” at church, something I would have known in advance if I’d checked my emails since Beth, our worship arts pastor, posts the songs each week.  But God had known what the song would be. Tears flowed as I was engulfed by the words …..”through it all, through it all, my eyes are on You and it is well with me.” 

My surgery is in the morning.  Although there won’t be sun shining brightly through the window at 5:30 when I leave for the hospital, the words will shine through my anxiety.  My eyes are on You, through it all.

 

God Provided A Spoon

And God will generously provide all you need.  Then you will always have everything you need and plenty left over to share with others.  2 Corinthians 9:8 NLT

He sat there on the ground beside the road holding the tattered cardboard sign so familiar to all. Summarized, it indicated the bearer would “work for food.”  We were in the third car back from the traffic light. The sun was shining bright despite the mid-thirties temperature.

It was Thanksgiving Day and we were basking in the warm feelings of having just delivered forty-one meals to families in the Barksdale community.  We’d had the opportunity to pray with several people – for healing, for work, for a new place to live, for a church closer to home.  There had been one problem, though; we had too many pumpkin pies!

Since this was the first time we’d been a part of such a wonderful endeavor, we didn’t know to question the fact that the numbers on the recipient information sheets didn’t add up to the amount of food we had.   We’d given each family multiple pies, enough for each person to have 2-3 slices.  We gave two pies to a woman walking in the neighborhood who said she’d give one to her friend.  We knocked on doors to give away pies, hearing curses on the other side that changed to smiles and thank yous when the door opened and we stood there bearing pies.  Yet, we still had pies. 

Excited that God must have a reason for the extra pies, we prayed and drove, asking for His guidance.

So there we were, the third car back from the traffic light when we saw the man sitting in the grass.  I jumped out of the car, opened the back door, grabbed a pie and ran up to him. Knowing that sometimes people are seeking only money, I asked him if he’d like a pumpkin pie. 

We exchanged “Happy Thanksgivings” and I turned to run quickly to our car before the light changed.  Suddenly I realized something.  How would he eat the pie?  As I hurried down the hill, I turned back towards him and said, “I wish I had a spoon to give you.”

While buckling my seat belt and making a mental note to be better prepared, I was startled by my husband telling me to look.   He was pointing at the car ahead of us. 

Out of the passenger side window was someone reaching towards the man.  In the passenger’s hand  was a cellophane-wrapped spoon.   God provided a spoon.   The traffic light changed to green.

Praising God for His attention to detail, we drove on.   It had been ten years since we had lived in Spartanburg but God reminded me of the location of an apartment community for members of a psychiatric rehabilitation center. 

With pies still left, we parked the car and walked up to one building.   I approached a man seated outside a slightly open apartment door.  Looking past him, I could see that there were a couple of people in the kitchen preparing Thanksgiving dinner, I assumed.  When I asked him if they’d like a pumpkin pie, you’d have thought we had been mistaken for the Publishers Clearing House winner notification team.

“I can’t believe it!” he said, jumping up from his chair.  “We were just saying that we had everything for Thanksgiving but a pie….a pumpkin pie.  I can’t believe it.”  By this time, he was giving me a big hug. 

“Isn’t it wonderful how God cares about even the little things?  He provided this pie for you guys, in fact, He provided two,” I smiled as I handed him two pumpkin pies.  “Happy Thanksgiving!”

After finding homes for the remaining pies, with hearts overflowing with gratitude for the privilege God had given us, we headed to a friend’s home to share Thanksgiving dinner.   Share Thanksgiving dinner?  Wasn’t that what we’d been doing all morning?  And, God provided the spoon.

Upheld

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

The journey has not been easy, and it is not yet over, but God has brought me far.

It was hard to go from being someone who was always on her way somewhere – by car or by plane, rarely stopping-- to being someone who got up in the morning for perhaps a half-hour, then returned to bed, hoping that would make it easier to breathe. 

During the most difficult times, we fought fear.  There was no reason to go to the hospital – what could they do?  I was unable to take the drug which would kill the mold in my lungs; it had been stopped by the doctors due to its effect on my heart. Oxygen didn’t help. The only peace we had was knowing I was completely in God’s hands—upheld in His righteous right hand to be exact.

My husband Jack – incredibly skilled in construction ministry and used to being able to fix anything—had to battle helplessness.   He sat on the edge of the bed and held my hand, he read healing scriptures to me; he prayed me through the most difficult breathing times.  He’d wake up multiple times each night to be sure I was still breathing.

And I was, only because God was holding me in His hand.

God provided a place for us to live near the construction ministry project He has given Jack to do, so we left Atlanta and are now closer to my physician.  My doctor agreed we were fighting this on physical and spiritual levels. What better way for satan to stop me from shining light on one of his favorite industries –sex trafficking of children -- than to make it difficult to breathe.

He hasn’t won.  God gives me the strength to continue increasing awareness of sexual exploitation; in fact, He has given me another opportunity to serve Him—speaking about pornography as the gateway to exploitation and how it’s all over His Church.

Greater is He who is in me, than he who is in the world.
               

Completely In His Hands

In His hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind. Job 12:10

It began with breathing difficulties. Many doctor visits and tests later, a single question….”do you have any mold in your house”…prompted a thorough search. Massive amounts of black mold, floor to ceiling in some places, were found in the basement of the mission house, the same place as the HVAC system. Some of the worst areas were directly under the room I used as my office.

My breathing worsened.  A culture confirmed that the mold had colonized in my lungs and a 16 week treatment of a strong antifungal medication began. Within two weeks, my breathing was clear but the medication was taking its toll. In another few days I would end up in the ER with the “dangerous, seek medical attention” side effects. Despite the ER doctor’s caution, I continued the medication believing it was my only hope at recovery from an infection with a poor prognosis.

I made it only 3 ½ weeks before my doctor stopped the drug that was affecting my heart. When I asked her if God could have used such a brief time to kill the infection, without hesitation she responded, “absolutely, He can heal you without any medication.”

And so began the journey.

A church gave us a place to stay while Jack did most of the mold remediation and replaced ductwork in the mission house. A company donated the chemicals necessary for cleanup. Another company donated the fogging of the entire house to ensure any remaining mold was killed. God provides!

We are now awaiting the results of an air test to determine if it is safe to return to the mission house we left in early December. It has been over two months since the medication was stopped. It seems odd to say that I am dependent on God for every breath since technically we all are, but without the medication I am completely in His hands.

Is there any better place to be?

God Provides!

And my God will meet all your needs according to His glorious riches in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:19

It began with an early morning phone call asking if I was “in town.” With Jack serving in northeast Georgia and me traveling all over the place presenting workshops on trafficking, most people can’t keep up with us – sometimes, we’re not sure where we are!

“Yes,” I responded, “but I’m not dressed for the public yet.” That was my way of preparing people for the face that God gave me without the touchups.

“Well, we’re on our way out of town and have a few things we wanted to drop off and one of them I’d rather not leave on the porch; we’ll be there in a few minutes,” through the phone came the reply.

The mysterious “rather not leave on the porch” comment piqued my curiosity and I agreed to come to the door as long as they wouldn’t tell others just how bad it was.

In the time it took for me to brush my hair (like it made much difference), brush my teeth (it’s the right thing to do) and ensure my huge fleece robe entirely covered my comfortable, yet rather ragged night clothes, the doorbell rang.

There stood two of God’s earthly angels, arms full of bags of groceries. Stepping inside and sitting them down on the floor, they quickly headed back toward the door. I felt certain that my appearance made them wonder if I were actually preparing for Halloween.

“What’s all this?” the question fell out of my mouth which had dropped open as I gazed over bag after bag of what can only be called “manna.”

“Oh, I just bought too many groceries, and God told me I should share them,” she said, eyes moist with emotion.

My eyes were filling up with utter gratitude yet I couldn’t help chuckling inside at the fib --surely no one ever “buys too many groceries.” Everything can be stored until needed. It was clear that God was using her to meet our needs. But He wasn’t finished.

“Here.” She grabbed my hand and pressed some thick folded paper into it. Now there was no holding back the tears as I shoved the thick folded paper into my robe pocket.

“Thank you! This will really help with the medical bills that have started coming in.” I gave her an update, and we stood in the foyer, and this impeccably dressed woman prayed for the not-dressed-for-the-public missionary. Then she and her husband left.

I took the bags into the kitchen and began opening each one. Each and every item was something we could use. Most of them were things that were on my shopping list. Why should I be surprised – God can read.

God Is Mobilizing!

Who will rise up for me against the wicked? Who will take a stand for me against evildoers? Psalm 94:16

As I was preparing for my 51st presentation on sex trafficking and commercial sexual exploitation of children, I paused (translated “procrastinated”) to check my email. There, nestled amid the junk mail, was an incredible treasure – an email from a courageous woman whom God is mobilizing to join the fight.

Amy had attended one of my workshops in Michigan on trafficking and God used it to show her how she could shine light on sexual exploitation. Using the talent He gave her, she wrote and recorded “Lost,” a song about how Christ can be the cornerstone, can heal, and can restore those who have been lost to exploitation.

As I thought about the last year and all the places I’d been, the faces of God’s army began to appear.

o A woman in Florida wants to reach out to other mothers who never knew their daughters were being molested by a family member. She wants to teach young moms the warning signs.

o A church in West Virginia wants to reach pimps for Christ.

o Another church is going to start a Celebrate Recovery group for those in their congregation who are addicted to pornography.

o A woman wants to minister to wives whose husbands are arrested—she knows what it’s like to have everyone fall away, even friends from church.

And now, Amy will increase awareness of sexual exploitation of children by speaking out and sharing her musical gift. Through the internet, her message can reach the millions who have suffered in the silence that permeates our churches. She will shine light in the darkness and take a stand against this evil.

God is mobilizing His servants.
Go God! Go Amy!

Unlikely Messenger

He reveals the deep things of darkness and brings utter darkness into the light. Job 12:22

As I stood in the pulpit of a small country Baptist church with the bright Sunday morning sunshine beaming through the stained glass windows, it hit me. How much more unlikely a messenger could you find? A short round woman with a hyphenated last name speaking in a southern Baptist church. Only God could make that happen.

Here I was delivering a message about sex trafficking of children and the slippery slope of pornography into child pornography. I talked about how the offenders are in our churches and how God was tired of those who call themselves by His name destroying the lives of children. I talked about how it was His time to shine light on this issue and how He was going to start in His own House!

I shared the story of a pastor we know—a pastor with a wife and two children --who was arrested for child pornography. I wondered aloud what would happen to his family. I wondered what his church could have done to minister to him when he first became involved, before he slipped down that slippery slope. I wondered what could happen if we as a Church started talking about pornography. How many more of him are there?

Unfortunately, I knew the answer. There are thousands. In my research I learned this was not an isolated case. Although that thought sickened the human side of me, the missionary side recognized the need to minister to the offenders. God still loves them; He will hold them accountable but He still loves them. We must hold them accountable and we must love them.

God must really be ready to shine light on this evil if He's using such an unlikely messenger. We must be ready for what He brings into the light.

Ruth Fields October 24, 1920 – December 30, 2010

While we wait for the blessed hope—the glorious appearing of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ. Titus 2:13

This past week we celebrated Christmas yet it was not the joyous time it should be. We wanted to celebrate the birth of our Savior but it was just too hard; we were caught in our own pain, avoiding the holiday and its ever-so-empty seat at the table once occupied by Dad. All those with experience say that you just "get through" the first holiday.

Last Christmas we were waiting for Dad’s imminent departure. Every activity was bittersweet knowing that it was our last with him. We spent day after day waiting –then on January 11, one day after his 90th birthday, Dad decided to go on to his Heavenly home.

This week we were in that place again—waiting—this time for Mom. We waited; although we knew where she was going and who she’d be with, it was still hard. We told her we loved her, that she’d soon see Dad, and that she’d soon be whole again. They were words we meant but our hearts struggled to say them.

Mom joined her husband of 68 years this morning and is now in the presence of her Savior.

It can’t get much better than that—except for all of us to be together. For that we must wait. We wait for His glorious appearing. Come quickly, Lord.

You’ll Put Your Eye Out

I couldn’t help but laugh and remember the recurring line from the wonderful holiday movie A Christmas Story. Set in the 1940s, nine year-old Ralphie had only one thing on his list—a Red Ryder BB rifle—but he’s told over and over how dangerous they are and how he could shoot his eye out. Despite the danger, he continues to make his voice heard.

With the line “you’ll put your eye out” running through my head and my right eye closed-yet-fluttering in pain, I put my plate down, got up and ran to the sink to flush my eye with water. The foreign object – the croissant flake -- was dislodged in moments.

Yes, as I bit down into my homemade breakfast sandwich, a hard, sharp flake of the overly-toasted croissant flew upward and lodged in my right eye. In all the years since the invention of croissants, have you ever heard of anyone being injured by a flake? It just sounded like something satan would do when he knew I needed to do a lot of reading that day.

Apparently I haven’t been doing much that bothered him until now. Throughout our ministry there have been times that activities didn’t go as planned and we knew satan wasn’t overly thrilled with the fact that we were swiping people from his claws and leading them to the One who would give them Eternal Life. But he never really seemed to spend much time on us.

Sure do miss those days! Since I’ve learned that Atlanta is a hub for exploiting American children, God has given me opportunities to speak in churches across the nation on sex trafficking--encouraging them to get involved by ministering to the victims and reaching out to the offenders within their congregations. We must shine light on the darkness that satan has hidden there. No wonder he has kicked discouragement into high gear.

God has begun to bring those who victimize our children to judgment. Despite the danger, we must open our eyes and continue to make our voices heard.

Do you fix your eye on such a one? Will you bring him before you for judgment? - Job 14:3

Can I Go With You?

How can they believe in the One of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone telling them? Romans 10:14

I dreamed of Dad last night—actually him and Mom both. It has been so long since I’d been able to talk to them; Dad, because he died seven months ago and Mom because her alzheimer’s took her memory and her ability to communicate quite a while back.

In the months leading to Dad’s death, he had become almost housebound due to the difficulty in maneuvering him into a vehicle. As the clock ticked closer, Dad would say “Can I go with you?” every time someone was going anywhere.

I’d try to take him somewhere every time I was in town and at Thanksgiving I rented a wheelchair-accessible van for three days. We went somewhere twice a day “just to get out.” Despite his pain and exhaustion, his smile beamed through as we drove around looking at Christmas lights or just went to the store to pick up medication.

Last night we were talking about church and Dad kept asking, “Can I go with you?” over and over. "Can I go with you this Sunday?” In my dream I had a sense that time was limited, that he may not make it until Sunday or that it might be his last Sunday in church.

How often we encounter people every day who by something in their actions are saying “Can I go with you this Sunday?” but we never actually invite them because they never actually ask. What if the “Can I go with you?” is a desire to have eternal life but we never share the way.

What if their time is limited and they never make it to Sunday?

Take 5 Minutes

I saw the tears of the oppressed—and they have no comforter; power was on the side of their oppressors—and they have no comforter. Ecclesiastes 4:1b

It was definitely a God thing. I was sitting in the living room of the future therapeutic, restorative home for girls who are victims of sex trafficking. The home wouldn't open for many months yet. I was visiting with the Founder of Living Water for Girls when my cell phone rang. It was someone from the North American Mission Board. They knew I served in the Atlanta area as a Mission Service Corps Missionary and wondered if I knew anyone who was working in human trafficking.

I laughed. As I began to talk about the issue and the home, I was consciously aware that God had arranged this moment. He began arranging other opportunities for me to share this burden with people who apparently had no idea it existed in the US, much less in their own backyard of Atlanta.

The more I learned the more of a sense of urgency I felt. When I learned that every minute 2 children are sold, I felt overwhelmed at the size of the problem. But I felt certain that as God makes people aware of the horrendous crimes being committed, they will want to do something. They will let Him use them to end this oppression, to be the comforter for these children.

One of the best ways to increase your awareness is to watch the video clip of the documentary film, The Playground. It's less than 5 minutes. Surely you can take 5 minutes to watch it.

By the way, during those 5 minutes, ten children have been sold.

Rescue the Girls

For He has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son He loves. Colossians 1:13.

Imagine having to earn $500 - $800 a day? Imagine that if you didn’t you’d be beaten or your family was threatened with death? How do you do it? What if you are only twelve? A 12 year old girl.

A year or so ago, I was attending the monthly meeting of the Mayor’s Faith-Based Roundtable and learned that Atlanta was a hub for human trafficking and commercial sexual exploitation of children—the second leading illegal industry in the US after drug trafficking, it has surpassed weapons trafficking. You can sell a weapon only once; you can sell a girl over and over.

I learned there are at least 300,000 American children each year rented and sold, girls servicing 15-20 men a night. They don’t even get the money.

How do they get there? Parents may sell their children for drug or rent money or they may be kidnapped or they run away. Within 48 hours, 80% of runaways will be recruited into the industry. The recruiter/pimp provides her shelter, food, buys her things and takes care of her. After a while, he says he needs a little extra cash. Since he’s been spending so much money on her, can she help him out a little? He tells her he has some friends coming over. He gives her some drugs to make her compliant and the process of “breaking” begins.

What is God going to do about it?
He’s going to use you and me to promote awareness of the issue, especially in our churches—the perpetrators are in our churches. These rapists have fish symbols on their cars and car seats in the back of their mini-vans.

God can use you and me to encourage law enforcement to crack down on the pimps.

And He can use us to minister to the girls. Help bring the girls out of the darkness and into the kingdom. Visit www.livingwaterforgirls.org to learn how.

Harry Fields, Sr. January 10, 1920 – January 11, 2010

When you are face-to-face with mortality, time stops and time races.

In a strange sort of consciousness, I had begun having flashes of memories of my Dad when I was little. There he is working in his shop, making paint. There he is, tilling the garden. There he is, working on the truck. There he is, napping on the porch after supper. There he is, playing games with me. There he is, teaching me how to build things. There he is, teaching me to ride a bike. There he is, picking me up and spinning me around in his arms. There he is, reading the paper with my head on his shoulder. There he is, always having time for me.

Then all too soon, there he was, with labored breathing, saying that he’s so tired, he doesn’t feel good and asking me to help him. Outwardly, I fought to keep the tears inside. Inwardly, I grit my teeth as I questioned God’s purpose.

Watching my father die was the hardest thing I’ve done in my life so far. On Sunday, January 3rd, the hospice nurse and several of our experienced caregivers agreed he was in the “actively dying” phase and we had 12-24 hours. We said our goodbyes and waited. Time moved slowly. Monday passed. Tuesday passed. Wednesday passed. Thursday passed. Friday passed. Saturday passed. Sunday, January 10 was his 90th birthday. At 7:45 Monday morning, Dad died with my head on his shoulder. Time had raced; we wanted more time.

I have no doubt that my Dad is in Heaven and no longer has a gaping through-to-the-bone hole in the side of his head from cancer. I have no doubt that he is reunited with friends and family that went before him. I have no doubt that I will see him again.

God had to watch His Son die a horrible death with holes through His hands and His feet. There was a purpose: It was all for us, so we could have the eternal life that my Dad is now enjoying in the presence of God.

My biggest problem with the whole thing is that if I live as long as most of the women in my family, it may be 45-50 years before I see my Dad again.

I miss you Daddy!

The Last Two Months

The last two months have been full of activity--the busiest one being a move from one mission house to another. The church who so graciously allowed us to live in their mission house now needs it for a prospective church planter who will help reach the unchurched people in the neighborhood and show them the way to Eternal Life. Another church about 10 miles away has offered us shelter for a time.

The last two months have been full of activity---the most important one being traveling back and forth to SC to spend time with Dad as he draws closer to the time he leaves here. It has been interesting to watch ourselves try to continue our responsibilities as usual with the underlying sadness of having to say goodbye to a loved one. We have tried to reframe the situation by recognizing that Dad may very well celebrate the incoming New Year in the presence of Jesus Himself but the sadness continues.

No matter how well we know that our loved one is securely in God’s hands, that He will guide them Home and that He will watch over them until we are one day reunited, the sadness continues.

There is a very simple reason for that. We weren’t designed to ever have to say goodbye. We weren’t designed to die. God created us to live forever and ever in His presence. Unfortunately things went awry in the garden of Eden and our punishment was death. How horrible it would be if that were the end of the story!

A couple of thousand years ago, a very important thing happened at a very busy time when people were travelling because of a census. Jesus was born in Bethlehem--God’s own son. He was sent to settle the account once and for all. We can now live forever if we accept the gift of Jesus’ payment on our behalf. We can now have an underlying peace that we will once again see our loved ones who know the Lord and go before us.

I told my Dad I’d see him in Heaven…but it’s still sad.

Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in Me will never die.” John 11:25-26

Ask

If any one of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God. James 1:5a

Sometimes we ask God to tell us what to do and then we wait. I’ve been doing that for several months about a specific issue.

As volunteer missionaries, we work on the projects at hand and beg God to tell us what to do next. When we’re faced with a decision, we ask Him to be very clear so we won’t miss His direction. We’re afraid we’ll miss Him if He uses a still, small voice. We ask Him to use a billboard or send us an email!

There is an issue that God keeps bringing to my attention – human trafficking and the commercial sexual exploitation of children. He has allowed my path to cross with several groups working in the field.

I asked God if He wants me to get involved in such a ministry.

He has allowed me to help churches get involved. With His help, I wrote a grant to fund the mental health component of Living Water for Girls, a home for girls ages 12-17 who have been rented, sold and traded right here in Atlanta.

I have gotten phone calls from people I don’t know asking how they can help minister to these girls.

I have asked God if this is what He wants me to do. I have waited and asked and waited and asked.

In the last two days, I have gotten two emails from state and national organizations asking about this type of ministry. Somehow they had gotten my name.

E-mails? Did I miss something?

Time

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die. Ecclesiastes 3:1-2a

Time passes quickly these days.

Since the death of BW, we’ve spent time trying to figure out what’s missing from the break-in that occurred the day before he died. Jack has taken the engine out of his truck and is waiting for God to provide another one. I presented a program on mental health to our Great Physician Servants Health Ministry Leaders and was reminded just how much I love the field of mental health and those who suffer with mental illnesses. Jack spent a few days working at the new home for girls who have been trafficked. I completed one major grant and helped out with another. Jack went to Toccoa, GA, with a Disaster Relief team after the floods. I went to Austell, GA, as a Disaster Relief Chaplain to help families devastated by the floods. We went to a Campers On Mission rally to learn ways to minister while on the road. We went to the Myrtle Beach Fall Motorcycle Rally where we did health screening and shared the healing Gospel of Jesus with bikers. We got to have lunch with Jack’s parents and celebrate his Mom’s birthday before they made their regular migration to Florida for the winter. We just returned from visiting my Mom & Dad and learned the results of Dad’s P.E.T. scan. The cancer is back and there is nothing that can be done.

Time stops.

Every Creature

Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, singing: "To Him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb, be praise and honor and glory and power, forever and ever!" Revelation 5:13

Last week our 16+ year old cat, BW, died. He had been a member of our family for nearly 15 years and had brought much joy and laughter to our lives. He was a beautiful black-and-white cat who had come as a 'free gift with purchase' when we bought our house in 1994, so we don't know his actual age. When we left Spartanburg, SC, in 2003 to go to our first assignment as missionaries in War, WV, he became an inside cat and was a constant companion to us in a strange place and a strange new lifestyle. He was the first thing we saw every morning -- sometimes from 2 inches away!

A friend emailed the verse above to confirm to us that animals indeed would be in Heaven. Throughout the last week, as we've grieved the loss of our beloved pet, God has used other friends to comfort us and remind us that God created animals first and He knows when even a sparrow falls. Certainly, a 12 pound cat does not go unnoticed by our Father.

Just this morning in church I looked up at one of the banners hanging on the wall of the sanctuary. "Let everything that has breath praise the Lord." It didn't say "everyone." It reminded me of Genesis 1:30 that refers to animals as having "the breath of life." Then the words of the Doxology rang out "Praise Him all creatures here below."

I sat quietly thanking God for being the Comforter that He is. When I get to heaven and am reunited with my Grandmother and other relatives and friends, I believe that among the "creatures" there, I will see those, like BW, who shared my life here on earth.

Living Water

He will lead them to springs of living water. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Revelation 7:17

Recently, I was blessed with the opportunity to visit a very special place. It is a new home for girls that is almost ready to open. The words beautiful, peaceful, restful, restoring, comforting, tranquil and safe immediately came to mind as I entered the door. In a few weeks, in a setting that most of us would expect on a church retreat, God's chosen servants will minister 24/7 to those who surely fit into the categories of "forgotten," "invisible," "the least of these."

In few weeks, this home will become the place of transformation for young girls ages 12 - 17. They will come there, often in the middle of the night, escaping the horrors of human trafficking. They have endured the unimaginable atrocities of the commercial sex trade and have somehow survived. Most are shells of what they were or could be. They have pulled as far from the pain as they can and it will literally take an act of God to reach them. They have no more tears to wipe. They have survived by building walls.

Please pray for the girls who will be brought to Living Water for Girls. Pray for the therapists, nurses, teachers, counselors and other staff who will help them rebuild their lives. Pray for the Board of Directors and for the Founder who has tirelessly followed God's direction in establishing this place. Pray that each girl will hear the healing Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Pray that God will show you how you can become involved. Then do what He says.