not mostly, not quite a bit...entirely

I remember it too well. The day, in the midst of drudging a heavy burden, when that subconscious thought came before I could stop it, "God I'm scared to trust you."

Immediately it sounded funny. Scared to trust God? If I'm not trusting Him, who am I trusting?

As I worked through this in my mind I realized, in this situation, if I decide to trust God 100% then I have no control. But, because I had no idea what to do in the circumstance, I realized that it was time to trust God 100%. Not 75%. Not 90%. Not 99%. 100%! Completely. Not holding on to anything. Nothing. Giving up everything that I normally try to do in my own strength.

I was scared to do it. Typically, when I let go 75% or 90% there's still that little bit of room left in there for me-- there's a little bit of me still able to do something, to try something in my own strength.

But really, was I scared to trust Him because I thought he'd mess things up? I thought he'd let me down and hurt me? Truthfully? I did think that. I thought, what if things don't turn out how I think they need to and when I want them to, that would be all wrong then and then I'd suffer.

I know! I know! My life is full of seeing God doing amazing things, things we didn't expect. My kid and husband are the obvious big ones.

Just like the Israelites who forgot God fed them manna from heaven or parted the Red sea, I also forget. Of that I am ashamed and embarrassed.

Then again, on Sunday, the Vanden Bosch's ventured out into the Bush of Moz to do an audio Bible distrubution-- to make the Word of God available to those who have never heard it for themselves, for those who can't read (I'm amazed at how the Pastors can hardly read the scriptures in their Mother-tongue-- it's almost painful for me to hear). The Bible distribution went well and was full of hope and encouragement. Then came the time in the service when people come forward to be prayed for. Of course, since we are the white visitors they'd like us to pray for the people. I gravitate to the area of the floor where the women and children are kneeling, I don't feel right to pray with the men. I start asking their names. What is their problem? Each one, something similar, "Corpo. Bessa. Tosse. Capisa", my body, congestion, cough, hot body, in dialect. As I laid my hands on their heads, some full of ringworm and fungus, some were burning up. In my nursing mind I try to start diagnosing. "Malaria, pneumonia, malaria, arthritis, malaria." Then, as I prayed, I was humbled. I was humbled to be there-- to be able to come just with my faith, the little bit that I have at times. I was reminded of the woman who was healed by just touching the edge of Jesus's gown (Mark 5:28-34). Or the time when Jesus said, "Go your faith has healed you." (Luke 17:19)

I was awed by each of these precious one's faith. They had the faith to come forward for healing. What else can they do? They're too far from a hospital. It's not likely that they get to the hospital each time they have a fever or headache. Nor is it realistic for me to bust out my nursing degree and tell them what they need to do. In that moment I knew that no matter what amount of education I had, or what initials I'm able to have behind my name, it wouldn't matter. "Go, your faith has made you well." My faith and theirs was going to make a difference today. Only that.

So, am I scared to trust him? When there's nothing I can do do I still think that holding on to something in my strength is going to make a difference?

I knew this day it didn't. So, humbly I prayed in as much faith as I could muster, that he was going to take care of these sick children. These woman who had pain, he was going to touch. And all the wounds inside that no one was mentioning to me, I prayed to God that he'd deal with those as well. Because, aren't we all broken, aren't we all in need of enough faith to trust him 100%? Not mostly, not quite a bit-- ENTIRELY!

the heart of my man

Of course you keep learning things about a person once you're married, this I didn't need to be told. But on Sunday I realized how lucky I am to be here, learning about my husband. Being here we're able to really be part of each others lives, as a couple and as a family. I'm sure no matter where we were, I'd come home and share and vent about a days work. And, I'm sure I'd ask Chad every day how work was for him, but would I be able to go with him and see him in action? Would I be able to be part of what his passions are? Would our daughter be able to serve along side him to see what he's dedicated his life to?

I've only been able to see Chad "in action" a couple times now but again on Sunday I was awed by his heart and his love for what he does. The couple times I've seen him I've delighted in his passion of sharing the word of God with a people group we've both come to love.

Many of you have shared in the journey Nede and I have been on for many years now. Now, we've added the journey that God's had Chad on for almost 10 years with Audio Scripture Ministries (ASM). Below I've uploaded a couple of videos about Chad and his work.

This first one is more specific to the work he's done in Mozambique:

And here is a general video about the international work of Audio Scripture Ministries:

Please, if you'd like to hear updates from Chad more specifically regarding his ministry, email me and I'll have him put you on his mailing list. 

It's an honor for Nede and me to be able to be a part of Chad's  ministry. I look forward to sharing more as we learn and grow with him.  

it just looks weird

Last weekend we were all a bit unwell. We didn't leave the house on Sunday. We did pull a book off my shelf that I've had for years, but never read, "Sunday's Best: Messages from today's most outstanding Christian leaders". The first one was by my friend (I wish), Francis Chan. As Chad read aloud to Nede and me it was one of those times I was awed again, awed at the perfection of what I needed to hear right now. At one point I actually said, "Can you skip this part? I'm feeling a bit convicted."

It was about being courageous. And how we become less courageous as we grow older-- "God is strong-- am I?" And as he read, of course, I'm convinced. What do I have to fear? I have the Spirit of the living God living in me. My heart gets it when Francis says, "What I'm saying is that we're children of the most powerful being in existence, and it looks weird when we're scared."  Of course it does. But why is it so hard?

The whole Bible is about being strong and courageous-- about people doing wild things like sleeping with lions and being in furnaces (no thanks!). And even when we grow up hearing and believing the power of God's perfect protection and provision, it doesn't take long until the world tells us not be believe this foolishness.

A couple nights after reading this we were praying with Nede, I did (in my head) exactly what Francis said, I've believed the lies of the world. I thought, "Oh, when Nede realizes that what she's praying isn't possible." She, with so much hope and confidence, prays regularly, "Lord be with the poor people, help them to know you and trust you. Be with all the people in the world to have a good night of sleep and to know you. Thank you for everything in the whole wide world, we love everyone in the world."

Oh, the lies from the garden that I believe and that I'm ready to teach my child! No! I won't, I don't want to! I want to be the one learning from Nede, not her learning the lies I've believed over my years of falling-- falling further from my child-like faith. Francis says, "There was a confidence that my God will come through." Nede's got it. She's said it to me before, while rubbing my back, "It's okay Mommy, God will help us." And it is true! When did I lose my confidence?

I too want my faith to get stronger, not weaker, as it has been. I don't want to get more timid, I want to be more bold. I don't want Nede to make the transition in her prayers from where she is now, to where I am. I want to pray like Nede. There is a confidence that MY GOD WILL COME THROUGH.

For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, "Abba! Father!" Romans 8:15

I cry out, "Abba! Father!"

perfect

"Mom, I look like both you and Dad right?"
Quizzical?
"I have brown eyes like you and black hair like Dad, right?"
"Yes. Yes Neds." :)