Miracle Upon Miracles

    "Lord, don't let it die on me now!" I pleaded as my van and I came to a stop at a stop sign.  I was supposed to be meeting up with a church friend for lunch.  My van had been having more and more difficulties.  The truth was, I needed a new vehicle badly.  I didn't know just how badly!

     After stopping at the sign like a good, law-abiding citizen, I took my foot off the break and applied it to the gas pedal.  Nothing.  "Come on!  Don't do this!"  As if it understood me, the van lurched forward, but it wasn't promising.  I didn't know what to do!  Looking up, I saw a garage to my right.  I had used them before, and been satisfied.  Knowing my van might not go much further, I saw this as Providential as I pulled into the parking lot.  God hadn't let me get stranded in some inconvenient place.  That was something to be thankful for.  

     I had just gotten my tax refund, and I found myself wondering how much of it would be going into this repair.

     After checking it in and giving the mechanic my cell number, I then found myself with a new problem.  I was supposed to meet up with my friend.  The restaurant was three miles away, and we were supposed to meet in ten minutes.  I walk fast, but not that fast!  

     This was when a second miracle occurred (the first being that my van was almost dead right near the mechanic).  I looked up and saw that the bus was coming to a stop right at the curb!  It was the bus that went right by the restaurant!  I could just make it!  I hopped on and paid my dollar-twenty-five.  I arrived just as my friend Ruth was getting out of her car. 

      We enjoyed a pleasant lunch.  Somewhere in the middle of it all, the mechanic called to tell me some very bad news.  My van was too far gone.  Now what?  

     I told Ruth, and the two of us prayed together.  

     "I have an idea," Ruth said after we finished.  "My husband wants to sell cars to auctions.  He might be interested in buying it from you."  A quick call to her husband revealed that yes, he was interested.  He offered me $100 more than the junkyard would have paid me.  "If you can get it to our house," he added.  

     By this point, I saw too much of God at work to doubt the car would make it the few miles to their home.  

     This left only one problem.  Yes, I had my tax refund, and now the triple-digit check I would be given for my van, but how would I afford another vehicle?  

     Just then, my phone rang again.  This time, it was my sister.  She and her husband were getting ready to move from California to Idaho.  They were significantly down-sizing, and wanted to know if I wanted their second car, free of charge!

     Ruth and I were overwhelmed at how fast this was all coming together.  We rejoiced, thanking the Lord!  We made the plan.  She would drive me from the restaurant to my van.  I would drive it (praying the whole time it would make it!) to her house, following her.  She would then drive me to my sister's, and I could get my new (to me) car!

     As I followed Ruth to her house in my dying van, a scripture came to mind. Isaiah 55:12 You will go out with joy and be led forth with peace... That is exactly how I felt as I drove.  The sun was shining brightly.  God was at work.  It was so clear.  I felt deep joy surging through my being.

     To quickly wrap up the first part of this miraculous story, my clunker van made it (Ruth's husband paid me right away and then sold it within a few weeks).  I got my "new" car from my sister.  I was able to get it smogged (a California requirement for cars) before the shop closed.  The next day, I was able to switch the title and insurance to my name.  This was great!  God had really provided!

     If the scripture theme of the first part of this story is Isaiah 55:12, the verse I would give to part two is this: John 12:24 ...unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains alone, but if it dies, it produces much fruit.  

     I had owned my car four days.  I had told everyone how God has miraculously worked everything out.  I was coming home from work that day.  It was late afternoon, and the sun was sinking.  I was almost home.  The traffic light was red, so I slowed down, preparing to stop.  Quickly, though, the light turned green before I was stopped, so I sped back up and entered the intersection.

     CRASH!  I felt an impact hit the side of the car, right behind me.  I heard the sound of medal crumpling.  I was spinning.  It happened too fast to be afraid yet.  

     I came to a stop facing the opposite direction, on the other side road, but still in the intersection.  What had just happened?  At that moment, I felt real grief.  In one fell swoop, I had lost my miracle car.  What did it all mean?  It wasn't my fault.  My light was green.  

     I tried to get out, but the door was smashed shut.  

     "Ma'am, are you alright?" a woman ran to the side.  

      I rolled down the window.  "I can't get out."

     "Maybe you should stay inside," she advised.  "It wasn't your fault, by the way.  I saw it.  The other driver ran a red light."

     I appreciated her reaching out, but I had to get out of the car.  I climbed to the passenger side and got out.
     "Janelle, are you okay???"  

     I turned to see Mrs. Dawson, a woman I knew from Bible study. 

     "Mrs. Dawson?"  

     "Yes!" She gave me a hug.  "My family saw the whole thing.  We'll help you make the report to the police."

     The Dawson family are very special people.  Salt of the earth.  I later found out their daughter, twelve-year-old Chrissy (one of my former Bible students), was sharing the gospel with the other driver and her hysterical daughter.  Only God could have orchestrated that.  

     A police officer blocked off the intersection and took the report.  Paramedics looked me over.  

     The other driver apologized profusely.  The setting sun had blinded her, and she had thought her light was green.  She took full responsibility right away.  

     The Dawsons gave me a ride home (before going back to give the other driver and her daughter a lift).  They prayed with me before they left me.

     I got inside my house, and I broke down crying.  How could this have happened?  I was so sure God had worked everything out for me to get this car...now it was hopeless!  I slept fitfully all night.  Every slamming sound (car doors outside, etc) woke me up with a start.  

     The long and short of it was this: my car was totaled.  My heart was heavy.  But here's where things start getting really amazing.

     The other driver's insurance covered me to have a brand-new rental car for two weeks, and paid me a very generous check for my totaled car.  A friend found out about a man a few blocks from me who was a car dealer, but sold them at his house.  I took a test drive, and fell in love with what was to become my new car.  It had a salvaged title (meaning it had been totaled at one point, but repaired).  It was in excellent condition, but because of the salvaged title, it was being sold for a very low price--half the amount of the check from the insurance company!  All this and I still had my tax refund and the amount I'd been paid for my van!

     That car, my Ford Taurus, has proven to be a faithful car.  Not long after all this, I met and married my husband.  We lived in the San Bernardino mountains.  The faithful Ford Taurus kept us safe on the winding (sometimes icy) mountain roads.  It faithfully got us halfway across the country when we moved from California to South Dakota.  It continues to faithfully get us where we need.  God knew exactly what He was doing all along.  Had I gotten in the accident with my dying van, I surely wouldn't have gotten such a good check.  Had I not gotten in the accident and just kept my sister's old car, I would never have learned as much as I did about God's redemptive power.  Plus, this car is a little bit better.  God knew all this!  

     Whenever my faith is weak, I look back on this miraculous series of events.  God clearly showed me Himself at work all through this.  My van dying right at the mechanic; the bus pulling up right then; Ruth's husband willing to buy the van; my sister wanting to give her car to me right then; my van making it to Ruth's; getting my sister's car smogged and registered in my name so quickly; the accident at that exact moment in time; nobody being hurt; the Dawson family being right there and minstering to all of us involved; the other driver taking complete responsibility; the insurance getting me that rental; the very generous check; the inexpensive vehicle being sold just blocks from me.  These things don't just happen.  They're not coincidences.  God was involved in all of it.  

     I don't even believe this experience was so unique.  I think God is always at work in our lives.  He just showed me in a very concentrated way.  It might not always seem dramatic like that, but God is always faithful.  

Call of the (Really!) Wild

Monkeys at Victoria Falls, Zambia.  Right after I took this picture, they stole our lunch!

 

    "Well, here I am," I thought as the plane took off from the Detroit airport.  The last several months were now a blur of letter-writing, car washes, getting shots, and overall just psyching myself up for this.  Now, the time had come.  I was with my three teammates, leaving the United States behind.  My feelings were a mix of delightful anticipation, uncertain fear, and devastating weariness from our recently completed two-week training.  "Keep your chin up," I whispered to myself.  "Everyone's counting on you."  Everyone, meaning my family, friends, and church back home.  They all loved me and believed in me.  That love, mostly based in Riverside, California, would have to reach me halfway around the world, and carry me through a place where no one loved me.  This was before the Internet was widely accessible (even many of my friends in the US didn't use it, and it was virtually nonexistent in Zambia then.  Also, no telephones of any kind).    

     A few posts ago, I referred to my 2000 mission trip to Zambia (see the post Journey of Forgiveness).  I only touched on a very small aspect of that trip.  I want to share more about my craziest adventure ever!

     Backing up a little, I was a local summer missionary with Child Evangelism Fellowship's Christian Youth in Action (CYIA) program in 1997, 1998 and 1999.  Some of my happiest high school memories were my times with CYIA.  I made good Christian friends, learned skills in evangelism and teaching, and saw many children receive Christ as their Savior.  I will probably share specific stories from my CYIA years in a later post.  By 1999, I was a senior, among the oldest students.  I didn't know what the next summer would hold.  Our state director's wife gave me a brochure for the Overseas Summer Mission (OSM) program.  It was Child Evangelism Fellowship's program for college students.  It was very similar to what I had already been doing, but I would get to go overseas!  Exciting!

     I readily applied and was accepted.  I was originally placed on the South Africa team, but a month later, found out I was going to Zambia instead.  As I completed my senior year, my focus was more on preparing for the trip than anything else.  My church was very supportive of me, as I have said. They treated me as something of a hero.  

     Four days after my high school graduation, I boarded a plane at Los Angeles International Airport.  This was the first of eight planes I would board that summer.  This first one would take me to St. Louis, Missouri, where I would be trained.  I was very excited.  I fully expected it to be like my times at CYIA, only a bit more mature.  I wasn't prepared for how mature.  

     I could write a book about my two weeks of training in Missouri.  There were twenty-nine young adults, going to a total of eleven countries.  They came from all over the United States.  Most were very nice and godly.  A few, though, made me wonder about the screening process.  I am sure legalities were covered, because this was a professional ministry, but I still wonder how much prayer and discernment was used.  One difficult was one of my teammates (whom I call Tasha).  Another was a young man I'll call Herb.  He was twenty-two, four years older than me.  He seemed captivated by me immediately, and basically stalked me the whole two weeks.  This weird behavior included following me into a phone booth, sitting beside me at all times, following me, spying on me, touching me in any way he could, and talking to me in strange voices.  I was really uncomfortable, but everyone said I was overreacting and that it was just a joke.  Some joke.  The last night we were there, Herb made a clumsy advance that, while foolish, was still a very deep stumbling block to me.  When I declined, he had a royal fit.  Everyone was on his side and acted like I had the problem.  I felt really crazy inside.  I was also the victim of some gossip about the situation.  It was like we had our own bizarre little soap opera. 

     By the time all the different teams flew out to their countries, I was already emotionally exhausted and depressed.  I felt humiliated by how I had been treated.  I just wanted to go home. Our team flew from St. Louis to Detroit.  We barely spoke.  I think all four of us were exhausted.  From Detroit, we were to fly to London.  We would be there for almost 24 hours.  I was excited about this!  Looking forward to that kept me going.
     Upon boarding our flight, I was sort of accosted by a British couple saying I was taking the wife's seat.  They were kind of angry and aggressive about it, and a flight attendant had to get involved.  I had to prove my seat was my seat (which I did by showing my boarding pass).  Upon being proven wrong, the couple chuckled happily and said, "Oops.  Sorry about that!"  I might have been able to laugh too, had I not been so weary.  But the last fortnight's drama in my life certainly wasn't their fault, so I forgave them on the spot.  I tried to relax into my seat, very thankful I wasn't next to Tasha (or even my nice other teammates).  I needed to be alone...but alas that wasn't to happen.  A happily drunk British man ended up sitting beside me.  His silly but harmless babbling kept me awake all through the flight.  He mostly wanted to ask me about rattlesnakes (since I'm an American, he naturally assumed I'm an expert on such things).
     Our day in London was a blast.  I really enjoyed myself.  We went to Buckingham Palace.  On the train through the city, I had a fun conversation with a little boy and his grandfather.  The little boy told me he was "four, but near five."   He said his birthday was "September the seventh."  I loved his perfect accent.  Of course, I was really the one with the accent there.  When I told the grandfather I was from the United States, he laughed and said, "You didn't have to tell me that, Yank!  As soon as you started talking, I knew you were from the States.  You have an American accent."  An American accent.  What a concept!
     So, before I go further, I had three teammates.  I'll call the two nice ones Mary and Rachel.  I had different things in common with each of them.  The three of us got along well, and could have been a wonderful team that summer.  We were all in it for the Lord.  Our fourth teammate was Tasha.  She had something of a split personality, and had major boundary problems.  When we had been at training in Missouri, she had been quiet, dull, and slow.  She didn't say much, and what she did say was harmless enough.  But in any given situation where she felt she could gain control, she seized it in shocking ways.  She was extremely manipulative when she could get away with it.  Long story, but she had already destroyed some of my personal property while at training.  In a passive-aggressive way, she had helped the loud-mouth spread rumors about me.  I hate to say it, but I knew early on that I did not like her.
     Arriving in Africa, a little alarm must have gone off in Tasha's mind: "Hey, nobody here knows American culture.  You can get the upper hand and control everyone!"
     She spent every moment criticizing me.  Literally.  No matter what I said or did, she had to contradict.  She twisted everything so our host missionaries (Zambian nationals) liked her and disliked me.  It got to the point that I had to be silent almost all the time. I got the reputation of being unfriendly, and as such, didn't really bond with people in Zambia.  I deeply resent that.  There is one exception to this.  I'll get to that in a few minutes.
     Tasha would criticize everything I said, even when I was teaching the kids.  If I set my Bible down, she would move the bookmarks in it so I would use the verses she thought I should use.  I had to keep my hands on my Bible at all times to avoid this.
     One time, our host asked me to peel potatoes.  They didn't have a potato peeler, so I had to use a knife.  Tasha came into the room and saw me doing it.  "You're doing it wrong!  Hold you wrist this way, so you're not scraping off half the potato along with the peel!" she ordered.
     "Thanks for the advice," I told her, continuing to do it as I had.
     "Aren't you going to change and do it the way I just said?"
     "No, but if it's that important to you, you can peel the potatoes."
     "No!" she shot at me.  "I  want you to do it, and I want you to do it the way I say!"
     "Look!" I stood up, raising to my full height (three inches taller that Tasha).
       Tasha ran out of the room screaming bloody murder.  She later claimed she thought I was going to stab her!  Of all things!  Really?
     At the moment, I was so furious I ran out the door and wandered around town all afternoon.  I cried and prayed.  I felt like I would lose my mind.  On this and many other occasions, God became my lifeline like never before.
     Another time, Mary and I were talking about our churches back home.  She shared her church was large and had several services every Sunday.  I told her that my church was pretty small (maybe 120 at the time).  I said we had Sunday school hour and one church service on Sundays.  I added that we had a Sunday night Bible study as well, but that I didn't usually go to that.  Tasha, who hadn't even been a part of the conversation, had a colossal fit about this, how it's a sin to miss Sunday night services.  She said I wasn't right with the Lord, and how the President could make it illegal to hold Sunday night services any day now, and I didn't go while I could.  I couldn't believe anyone could be this stupid.  First, the President doesn't have that kind of power to just make Sunday evening services illegal.  Presidents aren't dictators.  Secondly, our government could never disallow Sunday evening services because the Bill of Rights grants American citizens the freedom of Worship and Assembly.  But I don't think Tasha really cared about this.  She just wanted to start a fight with me.  In a moment of "weakness" I had tried to have a pleasant conversation with another teammate.  Whoops. Couldn't do that anymore.  Back to silence.  For the record, I did challenge Tasha in this instance, and she cried like a baby.  She told me I had better not write bad things about her in my diary.  I challenged this too, and she said she didn't want my heirs to read it a hundred years in the future and have a bad opinion of her.  I told her she had a choice about it by the way she treated me.
     One night at dinner, Tasha told our Zambian host family all about Herb, my "stalker" back at training. I kept asking her to stop, but she would't.  Pretty soon, everyone was laughing and joking about my most humiliating moment.  I wanted to crawl under a rock and die.
     The final big blow-up (and there were many others that I didn't share here) came when Tasha made a mean comment about California one evening (she was from the East Coast herself).  I politely told her she was mistaken in her information.  She began screaming like a lunatic.  At the moment, we were listening to a Christian cassette, and she was holding the box it came in.  She slammed it down and it broke into a dozen pieces.  She kept screaming and screaming until our hosts (the husband and wife) came running.  Then Tasha turned on the water words.  She made me out to be the proverbial "bad guy".  They hugged her and told her to forgive me.  If I could ever have committed a crime, it could have been that moment!  I wanted to scream, "Forgive me for what!?"  I literally hated everyone in the room right then.  I hated Tasha for the obvious . I hated our hosts for choosing her over me.  I hated Mary and Rachel for being cowards.  If they had backed me up, it could have put her back in her place.  The whole summer, it was like they resented my very existence for Tasha's behavior...instead of resenting Tasha for Tasha's behavior.  Any time I tried to stand up for myself, Rachel would look at me in resentment, and often, Mary would whisper, "Can't you let it go?" As if the problem was all mine.  Why couldn't Tasha knock it off?  Why was it all my fault?    I had just about nobody on my side, nobody to talk to.  Only God.  I had been eighteen for a few months, but that summer, I became an adult in every sense of the word.  I lost some innocence and idealism, but I found completeness in Christ.  Jesus was once in a foreign land too (Earth!), away from His Father.  Nobody completely understood how He felt.  He was constantly misjudged by others.  I identified with Jesus in a new way that summer of 2000.  I believe I shared in Christ's sufferings.
     All was not bad.  Remember my one exception?  My interpreter was wonderful.  Her name was Joyce (that was her real name).  She was a wonderful person.  I felt I needed to be careful talking about Tasha with her, but I could still talk!  She was the only person I could speak to all summer for longer than a couple minutes.  I would go to her home after we had finished ministry for the day (my teammates went back to our host house to watch the black and white TV set).  Joyce would fix us some tea and scones, and we would talk about the Lord.  She was an angel of mercy to me.  We are still in touch today.  I love her so much,  I may never see her again in person until Heaven, but when we do meet up again, I am going to give her the biggest hug.  God used her so much in my life.  We taught so many Bible clubs together, and saw Christ work in hearts and lives.
     The national language in Zambia is English, so people generally could understand us.  However, most people speak it as a second or even third language.  There are more than 70 tribal languages spoken in different regions of the country.  I met one man that summer who spoke fourteen different languages fluently!  The English they know is generally British, so our heavy American accents were a little harder for them to understand.  The more educated people there sounded like Londoners.  Most TV shows were British.  The few white people we ran into there were British.  I got to the point that summer where I had a hard time telling the difference between American and British accents on TV!  That's how bombarded we were with it.
     One Sunday, we visited a church.  The pastor was a white missionary.  He greeted us at the door and began chatting with us.  I couldn't quite pinpoint his accent.  It was beautiful, and sounded sophisticated.  At first, I was convinced he was from England.  Then, after a minute, I thought he must be from Australia or New Zealand.  After about five minutes, I couldn't hear the accent anymore.  I asked him where he was from, and he said, "Long Beach, California, United States."  Less than an hour from my hometown!  That must be how my accent sounds to British ears.  I loved it!  Just a fun little quirk of travel.
     Most of our Bible clubs were taught in schools.  Public schools are open to Christianity there.  School principals (they called the headmasters and headmistresses) were thrilled to have the American Christians come and share the Lord with the student body.  At every club we taught, children would make professions of faith.  Unfortunately, we weren't able to do a lot of personal one-on-one counseling with them, so only God knows the results.  Joyce and others did follow up after the summer was over.  Our statistic (for what it's worth) was that about thirty-five hundred children received Christ.  As I said, only God truly knows.  I did have a few personal encounters with children we had shared with, and they really showed understanding at having trusted Christ for salvation.  That was a good feeling.  Some of these children were orphans.  Many of their parents had died of AIDS.  Some of these children's only clothes were the school uniforms they wore.  Two little orphan sisters made me cry.  Here, I was alone in a foreign country, but they were alone in the world without family (except each other).  This was a reality.  Yet, they received Jesus, and came to know that hope that comes from Him.
     The only communication I had with home was writing postal letters.  Writing helped keep me sane and battle culture shock.  I would write to my family and friends.  We had been warned that it wasn't safe for us to lick the postal stamps.  Too many germs.  So I would affix stamps to envelopes using toothpaste. It worked every time.  All letters I mailed were received.  I found out upon returning to the States that people in my church had enjoyed my letters a lot, and had shared them in the congregation.  That made me happy.
     We were also warned to be careful about dairy, because a lot of their cows are unhealthy and carry disease.  So we pretty much avoided any dairy products all summer.  By the time I flew back to Los Angeles in August, I was craving a large strawberry milkshake from Burger King!  I made my parents take me there posthaste!  Best milkshake I ever had!
     The last thing we did before flying back to the US was to visit Victoria Falls.  That is the biggest waterfall on earth, supposedly one of the seven wonders of the world.  It is on the border of Zambia and Zimbabwe.  It was across the country from where we were.  It should have been an eight hour drive, but was more like twenty-four hours, due to the flat tires we received on the primitive road.  I used to complain that they're always tearing up the roads and making improvements.  After that summer, I realized why they did it, and stopped complaining.  The Zambian roads were covered with potholes.  They had been paved many years earlier, and pretty much left alone since.
     The ride to Victoria Falls (then following this, up to the airport) was a blast.  I barely had to be near Tasha.  She and my other teammates sat in the back of the trunk.  I chose to sit inside with Joyce and other other Zambians.  I felt some of them actually got to know the real me at that time, which was a blessing.  One of the men said that when I had come to Zambia, I had a very small heart, but by the end, it had grown.  I think this is his perception because I had been unable to speak when Tasha was around.  It saddens me that I wasn't able to truly be myself most of the time.  But that trip to Victoria Falls was wonderful (well, aside from having monkeys steal our lunch, then chase me!).  That night after seeing the Falls, we stayed in a guest house, and I got to room with Joyce.
     We flew back to London.  This time, we did not leave the airport.  I bought a copy of A Little Princess in the bookstore.  I wanted a copy of a British book that said, Printed in the United Kingdom inside.  That was my souvenir from England.  I read while we waited to board our flight back to the United States.  As my teammates slept by our bags, and I sat reading, I asked myself, "Did I pass the test this summer?" I still wonder that at times.  I think I did.
     Nothing could have prepared me for landing in the US.  As the plane came to a landing in Detroit, I saw a giant American flag out the window.  My eyes filled with tears, and a lump came to my throat.  I was home.  I wanted to kiss the ground.  I wonder if this is just a small picture of how it will feel to be truly home in Heaven one day?
     We had a recap back in Missouri.  I just wanted to fly back to California.  Herb acted awkward toward me.  The recap couldn't have ended soon enough.  I was delighted to fly back home!
     I was emotionally shaken up from that summer.  Returning to church was harder than I imagined.  Everyone viewed me as a hero.  In fact, the pastor told me I was his hero.  That was wonderful.  Everyone was so good to me, and I love them all so much. I just didn't feel like a hero.  I felt like a wreck.  I felt like a POW from a failed mission.  Yet here were these enthusiastic people, loving me, excited for me, wanting to hear wonderful stories of my trip.  By God's grace, I was able to share the good things He had done. I even was able to make some fun jokes about the difficult moments.  But no one ever knew the depths of my suffering.  That's okay.  It remained between God and me for a long time.  He wanted it that way.
     Missionaries may seem like heroes, but they are regular people God is using.  They struggle, doubt and cry out to God.
     Another thing that can be learned is that there is an effective way to deal with bullies.  Tasha was a bully, and everyone's passivity basically allowed her to reign sovereign.  That wasn't right.  She was sinning and should have been corrected.  Even someone saying, "That's not right.  You shouldn't say that," would have been helpful.
     I guess the biggest lesson that can be gleaned from my summer is discernment.  Ministries need to be discerning about the people they allow to serve.  Tasha should never have been involved.  Her support didn't come in, for one thing.  This should have been a wake-up call to the people in charge.  Sometimes God uses money (or lack of it) to guide us.  Herb should never have been there either, or at very least, his weird behavior should have been questioned by leadership.  Those in charge shouldn't be looking for warm bodies.  They should be looking for surrendered hearts.  It may mean less people serving...but it means better service.

The "Legend" of Thom

 

I am pictured with some students helping me evangelize at the county fair.  This was taken a couple years after the events in this story.  

    The reason this post is entitled as a "legend" is a bit misleading.  It is actually a completely true story.  But my friends and I have had so much fun reliving the craziness of it over the years that it has become "legendary" in our minds.  For this reason, I speak of The Legend of Thom!
     His name was Thom.  I'm sure he pronounced it as Tom, short for Thomas.  However, when we remember the events of that day, my friends and I call him Thom--with the soft T-H sound, as in think or throw.  There is a reason for this too, later on in the story!  Bear with me.
     It was 2003.  I was teaching an evangelism class in Riverside, California.  One Saturday, we had an opportunity to share the gospel at the Riverside County Fair out in Indio (note: Riverside County is huge.  Our city of Riverside is the county seat, but the fair was over an hour's drive east, out into the desert.  As such, it was not a part of my regular ministry area).
     The man who was in the process of becoming the ministry director in that area was named Thom.  He had sounded very devoted over the phone, and seemed enthusiastic that I was bringing a group out to serve.  I prayed for the children we would reach with the gospel.
     My group consisted of four of us that day.  All four of us were single then, but are all married now.  These were, my sister Barbara, one of my summer missionaries Heather, my friend Edith, and myself.  It was a fun day, four young women going on a little trip to serve.  We laughed and had easy conversation.  It was going to be a great day, we could tell!
     We arrived, and met Thom in person.  He looked a little quizzically at us, as if something did not please him.  He separated us.  Barbara and Heather were put directly working with him at a booth near the fair entrance.  Thom hung around, criticizing every move they made.  Heather had her purse draped over her shoulder.  "Give me that!" Thom grabbed it off of her.  "It's in the way!"  He threw her purse under the table.  Barbara and Heather exchanged looks.  As they began evangelizing with the wordless book, Thom would correct their efforts.  Barbara shared with a small sized Wordless book (instead of one of the larger ones), and Thom said, "Don't use that Mickey Mouse one!  Use this!"  Barbara looked at him, puzzled at his abruptness.  He scowled, "Don't give me that dark look!"  His efforts to correct them hindered them from being able to get the message across to kids.  "Let's pray he leaves," Heather whispered when he was busy talking with someone else.  Quietly, the two of them asked God to remove this man who was hurting the ministry so badly.  Heather was and still is a woman of amazing faith.  She once prayed for my car, and God fixed it instantly.  In this case, Thom left them almost instantly, and the two of them had a wonderful few hours sharing Christ with kids...
     Unfortunately, Heather should have prayed more specifically.  Maybe prayed that he would go for a ride on the Ferris Wheel and get stuck at the top for a while.  But she just prayed he would leave, and he left--to go harass Edith and me.
     You see, while all this was happening to them, Edith and I were sent to work at a booth with a puppet show going.  Puppet show?  Yes!  Even though our ministry had nothing to do with puppets, Thom had gotten puppeteers to do a little show that presented the gospel, after which Edith and I were supposed to follow it up with the wordless book.
     The puppet show was silly at best, disturbing at worst.  Our ministry shares the wordless book basically like this: We start with the gold page, which stands for heaven--from here we talk about God, His love, and holiness.  Then we turn to the dark page, which stands for sin.  It is not called the black page.  Black is a color, with neither good nor bad connotations.  The Bible never refers to black in negative terms. But God does speak in His word of sin being darkness (unable to see or find our way to God), and that is why it is called the dark page.  It's not the color, but the condition.  This is very important, especially in that a misunderstanding could seem racist.  From this point, we move on to the red page, where we talk about the Person and work of Jesus Christ (red being for His shed blood).  The clean page (not white page, though it is pure and white) is where we give children an opportunity to receive Christ as Savior.  The Green page is last, where we talk about spiritual growth.  This is an overview.  We use scriptures for every page, always opening our Bibles.  So...
     This puppet show was set to a cassette tape Thom and prerecorded.  He had these silly puppets talking about the wordless book.  They refer to the dark page and black, even emphasizing it.  The BLACK page.  As if to prove a point.  I was alarmed by this.  Thom was very new to this ministry, so perhaps he didn't know it was supposed to be called dark, not black.  His gospel presentation on the tape was very inadequate, so after it was over, Edith or I (we took turns) gave an in-depth message.  Children responded to this, and some truly came to a saving faith in Christ that day.  It was especially meaningful for Edith and she shared Acts 16:31 with some children.  Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved.  These kids prayed to receive the Lord that day.  It was wonderful.  Edith was beaming at what God had done...and then a shadow passed over us.  We looked up to see Thom approaching us.
     "What are you doing?" he demanded.
     "I just shared the Wordless book and those three kids got saved," Edith told him.
     "No, no, no!" Thom glowered at her.  "You should never, never, never open your Bible when you witness!  What were you thinking?"
     I was very perplexed.  Why wouldn't a Christian open his or her Bible in order to share the gospel?  The Bible is our authority.  And why was he so adamant?  I had graduated from the Children's Ministries Institute, our ministry's training school.  If I may say so, I was something of an expert on this method of evangelism, and I had trained the others.  What was he talking about?
     "Let me show you how it's done," he said arrogantly.  "Watch.  You'll learn something."
     The next group of kids was entering our area.  "Can we hear the story?" a little girl asked.
    "I'm not telling it just for you!" Thom shot at her.  "I want at least twelve kids in here first!"
     This led to a ten minute wait for more kids to come.  A few of the original kids had to leave.  When we finally had twelve children, Thom began his magic. "We start with this green page," he began.
     Green page?  That's supposed to be last.  Why talk about spiritual growth when we haven't covered the gospel?  Oh, but I found out Thom doesn't apply the green page to spiritual growth.
     "This green page stands for God's green earth." He made his fingers walk across the page.  The children looked perplexed.
     Thom turned the page. . "But this BLACK page reminds us that sin destroys God's green earth.  Sin is death and hell!"
      A few of the kids looked frightened.  At least they were spellbound.
     Thom continued. "This red page means Jesus died on the cross.  And the white page means you ask him in.  Let's all do that right now."  Here he prayed a generic sinner's prayer.  A few of the kids bowed with him, but not all.  After he finished he said, "Now you're all Christians."
     I couldn't believe this.  He hadn't even really explained the gospel in-depth enough for someone to understand how to make a decision for Christ.  He had not mentioned faith or repentance, or used one scripture verse.  His "God's green earth" thing almost sounded like a new brand of organic vegetables.       After the kids filed out, he said, "Let's see that was twelve kids.  Let's round it to the nearest ten."  He was writing on a clipboard.
     Why round it out when you knew it was exactly twelve.  I shrugged.  "The nearest ten would be ten.  Are you writing that you shared with ten?"
     He looked shocked.  "Of course not.  I'm writing twenty!"
     Twenty?  Edith and I looked at each other, not knowing what to say.  I have always been taught to get exact numbers when possible, but if I didn't have them, to give a conservative estimate.  This was downright lying.
     "That's why you never use a Bible," he said to Edith, as if his little presentation were a continuation of their conversation.
     "Sir, we always use the Bible," I told him.
     "Then you've received improper training."  Just like that.  I was mad!
     It was then my turn to share as a new group of kids gathered.  I was very nervous that Thom was watching like a hawk.  I didn't want him to interrupt the gospel message and prevent the true message from going out.
     "Hi Janelle!"
     I was startled to see two boys I taught in Sunday school run in to join the other, assembled children.  Great.  They knew the right way that I usually did it, and now would hear Thom correcting me and doing it the butchered way.
     "Hi boys," I tried to smile as they ran up to hug me before being seated.
     "Hey Janelle!" another voice called.  I looked up and saw my good friends, Paul and Loni, the boys' grandparents.  "We decided to bring the boys out to the county fair today.  We already saw Barbara at the front."
     Thom immediately began a conversation with my friends.  I was sort of glad, because if he was so engaged with them, he wouldn't bother me.  Of course, it annoyed me that he was basically sweet-talking them after he'd been so rude to us.  But oh well.  I shared the gospel without any ill effects.  A girl in the group prayed to receive Christ.
     I wrote on the clipboard that I had shared with seven kids and one had received Christ.  Thom frowned at me.  "Write ten!  And write that they all received Christ!"
     "But there were only seven--"
     "We're estimating!" he said as if I were an idiot.
     "But if we know the amount, shouldn't we be exact?"
     "I'm the director here!  And soon, everyone will do it my way!"  I wouldn't have been surprised if maniacal laughter had followed this grandiose statement...but it didn't.  Just his self-satisfied smirk.
     "I disagree with you, but since you're in charge of this event, I'll do what you ask for right now,"
     "Thank you," He spit it out.  His tone was curiously lacking in gratitude.  I suppose he figured this was the best he'd get.
     When we left that day, he put his face very close to mine and hissed, "Correction and rebuke are the way of life.  You don't need to mind me."
     I didn't say a word.  I took my volunteers and left.  On the way home, I learned Barbara and Heather's story.   I knew this wasn't right, and this power-crazed man shouldn't be in our ministry.  I called my boss, Mr. Dunkerley, when I got home,  He asked me to write a letter, documenting everything that happened, and send an copy to him and a copy to the state director of our ministry.  So I did...
    Later that week, Edith and I were talking about what had happened with Thom.  Mr. Dunkerley overheard us and said, "Tom?  Who's that?"
     "You know," I said, "The man at the fair I wrote about in that letter."
     "Tom?  I thought his name was Thom."
     And that is how he came to be pronounced phonetically!
     Our state director confronted Thom for his rudeness.  Apparently, the local ministry committee in his area had really been complaining already, and the state director hadn't taken it as seriously.  My letter gave their concerns credibility.  For this, I earned the respect of that committee, and I went back to do ministry at the fair every year until I left California.
     Thom never ended up taking over the ministry in that chapter.  The day he was confronted, he told everyone, "Fifteen-thousand kids came to our booth at the fair and every one of them got saved!"  Not a realistic statistic at all.  After being confronted, he frowned at me and demanded to talk with me privately.  I stepped outside with him, all the time worrying that he was getting rid of the witnesses,
     "I want to apologize if I offended you and your friends.  You know, Fred Rogers [of the famed Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood television show] died recently, and I realize I need to be more like Mr. Rogers."
     That was the last time I ever spoke with Thom.  I shared with everyone that he had apologized.
     "What did he say when he apologized?" Heather asked incredulously.
     "He said he needs to learn to be nice like Mr. Rogers."
     This led to everyone cracking up.
     "So," Heather said when she could talk again, "he didn't apologize because God convicted him to be more like Christ.  He wants to be more like Mr. Rogers.  Does he wear a 'What Would Mr. R. Do' bracelet?"  We all laughed again.
     In the following years when we would go evangelize at the fair, we had indirect run-ins with Thom.  He set up a booth of his own, and tried to compete with us.  He would send his friends and even his sons over to tell us how his booth was having more people saved in it.  What can I say to this?  What the Apostle Paul said in Philippians, when some preached Christ out of envy toward him.  But Paul didn't care about their motive, as long as the gospel was preached.  I tried to make this my attitude.  More than anything, I was kind of amused by it all.
     So, all these years later, we still remember Thom.  Whatever his motive, I hope God is blessing the truth he teaches.

Journey of Forgiveness

    I hate to confess this, but there is a person in my life I am struggling to forgive.  Several, actually, but one in particular.  What's worse, this person is a Christian (or at least purports herself to be).  Think I'm terrible?  Well, I confess that forgiveness has been one of the biggest struggles of my Christian life.  However, this isn't because I wish to be bitter.  For so long, I used the word without really knowing what forgiveness actually means.  I have read books, listened to messages, etc. but it wasn't until recently that God really brought a new understanding to me from His word on this subject.

     I'll clarify really quickly to say that I don't struggle to forgive when the one who has wronged me is genuinely sorry and makes it right.  In this post, I am referring to forgiving wrongs suffered from someone who maliciously intended harm, and is not sorry.

     There are a lot of messages out there about what it means to forgive.  Some well-meaning believers have given me the wrong messages about it.   

     I have been told that to forgive is to forget (in essence, pretend it didn't happen).  This is not only unhealthy, but usually impossible.  Some hurts go deep, and asking the injured party to make believe it didn't happen is unfair to their wounded spirits.  The scars this person may bear are a testament to the fact that a wrong was done.  Denying it, or even minimizing it, is a lie (which, in turn is a violation of God's word).  

     Another message I have been told is that to forgive is to excuse the wrong, and even allow it to continue.  This leads to more sin on the part of the perpetrator, and deeper wounds on the part of the recipient.  Nobody becomes more like Christ in this scenario, and God's goal for us is Christlikeness.  Therefore, this is not God's plan for forgiveness..  

     Some have said that if I still feel hurt or frustration, I am unforgiving.  For years, I believed that.  Now, my response to that is this: Is Jesus unforgiving, because He still has the holes in His hands and feet?  

    My honest opinion is that most people are not healthy enough to deal with issues.  Many people, especially in Christian ministry, are peace-at-all-costs types.  They feel we should keep our mouths shut when someone is bothering or hurting us.  They feel that if the injured person confronts the perpetrator, the resultant argument is the injured party's fault.  For this reason, I have had a lot of people on my case.  For example...

     The summer I was eighteen, I served on a mission trip to Zambia, Africa. I worked with three other Americans, all young women about my age.  Two of them were very sweet girls.  I'll call them Mary and Rachel.  The three of us would have made a dynamic team.  However, the fourth team member, whom I'll call Tasha, was another story.  She was very rude and negative, especially to me.  I could write a whole post about that summer (maybe I will eventually), but for the moment, I'll summarize.  Tasha basically declared war on me the moment we met.  She was slow and lazy, and most people wouldn't take her as a trouble-maker.  She was very passive in situations with a lot of people.  I came to see that when she knew she couldn't get control of the situation, she was like this.  However, when the situation could be controlled, she became an aggressive monster.  Being the only four Americans in a third-world country was definitely something she could control.  We were with people who didn't understand American culture at all.  Tasha got the open-hearted Zambians to see things the way she wanted them to be seen.  With me, personally, she criticized EVERYTHING, from the way I washed dishes in our host home, to the way I peeled potatoes, to the Bible verses I used when sharing Christ.  She would move the bookmarks in my Bible in order to make me use the verses she thought I should use.  One time she jumped all over me because she didn't like a pronoun I used!  Yes, you read that correctly!  She attacked me for a pronoun (I said the word they--meaning the kids we were teaching--and she felt I should say we, because we're all God's people.  Saying we--including myself in it--wouldn't have even made sense in the sentence I was saying!).  It was hell on earth to be with her.  I couldn't breathe without her having to attack me.  She spread malicious gossip about me to anyone who would listen.  A few times, I tried to confront her (since nobody else did).  She raised such hell it wasn't worth it.  One time, she had made a mean comment about my home state.  I politely told her she was incorrect.  She screamed at the top of her lungs and smashed a plastic box she was holding.  She continued screaming until our host (a Zambian) came running in.  She turned him against me.  It was all my fault.  Our host hugged her and said she should forgive me (I was fuming!  Forgive me for what!?).  Tasha sniffled and said, "I'm not sure if I can forgive her!"  Our host hugged her and soothed, "I know." Mary and Rachel were quiet and uncomfortable, and refused to engage.  I liked them, but resented that.  Tasha was dead wrong, and she needed to be brought to account.  If the other two had backed me up, she couldn't have gotten away with her garbage.  I was always made to feel that I was in the wrong if I ever confronted her.   Rachel would look at me reproachfully whenever I tried to stand up for myself, and Mary would whisper, "Can't you just let it go?"  I put up with this for six weeks!  I nearly lost my mind, and ended up in counseling later on, due to depression and nervousness I developed on that trip.

     I share this example to illustrate that many people I have been with have taken the passive approach to conflict and forgiveness.  This is clearly the path of least resistance, and perhaps the easiest thing to do.  But easy does not equal right.  I was fed--from this situation and others like it--the idea that I was wrong and sinning if I confronted someone who was wronging me.  This led to deeper confusion about forgiveness.  I didn't think I was ever capable of forgiving anyone, if that was what it was.

     The person I am currently working on forgiving is a woman I'll call Cassandra.  She and I taught in a Bible study together.  We had difficulties working together from the beginning.  For a short while, we seemed to be getting along, but that didn't last.  She wasn't half as brutal as Tasha from my mission trip, but she was very unkind and passive-aggressive (she said all her mean things in a cutesy, sweet voice).  I tried ignoring and confronting her alternately.  Nothing really worked.  When I wouldn't let her manipulate me and the situation, she lied about me to the people over us, and they kicked me out of the Bible study.  It was done in a very unchristian and unprofessional way.  If this wasn't enough, Cassandra sullied my reputation around town, and some of the Christian people I had thought were friends disassociated from me.  It was a very hard and painful time.  God has brought great redemption to my life.  In fact, I married my wonderful husband exactly two years to the date after I got kicked out of the Bible study.  With all that behind me, and so much good in my life, why am I still working on forgiving her?

     As I said, I didn't know what forgiveness really meant.  When this situation with Cassandra and the Bible study first happened, I struggled with real, dark, black, suffocating hatred, and I wished her ill will.  That scared me.  I had never known such hardness in my own heart.  I had never known what evil thoughts I was capable of.  Thankfully, I immediately repented of my hatred,and asked God to take it.  I told Him I couldn't stop hating Cassandra in my own strength, but I wanted to stop, and only He could help me.  It was an earnest prayer, and I know God heard me, because the blackness in my soul disappeared instantly.  I no longer wanted evil things to befall her.  I think God honored my desire to do right here.  So, if that is it, then I forgave her right then.  I believe, for certain, that God started the forgiveness process in my heart then.

     One of the wonderful things I have learned is that forgiveness, like all other Christian virtues, are instilled in us by Christ.  We don't have to conjure it up.  We just have to be willing to be willing to forgive.  

     But what about those bad feelings I sometimes still struggle with toward Cassandra, Tasha, and other people?  Just the other day, I was thinking about this when an image came to my mind.  It wasn't a vision, or anything as dramatic as that.  It was just a picture.  In my mind's eye, I saw Jesus on that cross.  And as He looked at the men who were killing Him and mocking Him, He was loving them.  The love in His eyes was like nothing I have ever seen in any human being.  And it brought me to shame.  I am incapable of loving people who hurt me...and nobody has hurt me the way they hurt Jesus.  Yet He loved them and forgave them on the spot.  I wept at my own inadequacy.  But then the Lord reminded me of the rest of the story...

     Jesus died, was buried, and rose again Easter morning.  After His resurrection, He appeared to His loved ones.  Mary.  John.  Peter, Thomas.  All the disciples.  In each way, His appearance was meaningful to the individual, and reflected part of their relationship to Him.  There are accounts in the gospels of His appearances after the resurrection.  Yet...he is never recorded to have appeared to those who killed Him.  He loved them and forgave them...but then was done with them.  He didn't try to befriend them or reach out to them after that.  He invested in His chosen ones.  

     And that is a model for me.  I can love people--with God's help--but I choose to enjoy and invest in my friends and family.  I cherish them.  God doesn't expect me to like Tasha or Cassandra, or track them down, or invest any further time in my life or mind on them.  I might always have irritation if they come to mind, but I have given it to the Lord, and am allowing Him to make me more like Jesus daily.  One day, in Heaven, I really will have that love that only Jesus could have.  And, since Tasha and Cassandra will be there, maybe we will be friends then.  In a twinkling of an eye, we will be changed.  

     I don't feel so unforgiving now.  I'm a work in progress.  I'm on my journey with the Lord.  So are you.  It's okay.  Just don't get off the path! 

It's a Date Then

     Yesterday evening, my husband Walter shared some news with me.  He was clearly excited about this.
     "Joshua Harris has recanted I Kissed Dating Goodbye and his other stuff!"
     Upon looking into it, I discovered the legitimacy of this.  Apparently, this happened last year.
     Why is this news to exciting to Walter, and so overall interesting?  Therein lies the story...
     My husband loves the Lord with all his heart.  As a young man, he enthusiastically attended Bible College.  I am glad God used the biblical teaching to shape him into the man I would eventually marry.  However, while there, he had some hard experiences, largely due to the above-mentioned book: I Kissed Dating Goodbye.
     This book was written by Joshua Harris when he was a mere 21 years old.  This book discourages dating among young people and instead encourages friendships.  In his sequel Boy Meets Girl, Joshua Harris encourages courtship, sharing his own experiences.  I will give my own commentary in a moment.
     So my husband entered Bible college.  Like many a young person, he thought he might possibly meet his future wife there.  He is an outgoing person, and was friendly to both men and women.  Occasionally, he would ask a girl if she wanted to sit with him at lunch or join him for a soft drink.  His motives were completely pure and above-board.  However, he was treated like a criminal for these innocent pursuits.  It turned out that I Kissed Dating Goodbye had replaced the Bible and Walter didn't get the memo.  In fact, he hadn't even read the book and had only vaguely heard of it.
     The Bible urges believers to guard their hearts (Proverbs 4:23), flee fornication, or sex outside of marriage (I Corinthians 6:18).  Beyond that, we are urged to love the Lord and others (Mark 12:30-31), wait on the Lord and trust His plan for our lives (Psalm 37:3-6), and be honest with others in all our dealings and intents (Matthew 5:37).  These scriptures all pertain to how believers are to be with one another and with the Lord.  This is really all we need as a blueprint for proper relationships.
     My husband's Bible college took these biblical admonitions and added the principles of I Kissed Dating Goodbye, much as the Pharisees took God's commands and added other, man-made rules to help keep these simply commands, thus complicating everything.
     One of this books points is that any relationship a person gets into gives a part of their heart away forever--a part that can never be taken back.  So, according to this logic, every relationship--no matter how pure--you have before you meet your spouse is a form of cheating your future spouse out of part of your heart.  For this reason, this Bible college reacted strongly and negatively to Walter's friendly attempts to get to know Christian women.  He was harshly rebuked, and his spirit was broken.
     In God's providence, we met and were married some time later.
     There is a lot I can say about that Bible college's legalism in this area, but this post isn't about the college (which I didn't even attend myself--I went to another Bible College).
     Here is my personal experience and opinion about I Kissed Dating Goodbye, dating, courtship, and how all of this affected my generation of Christians.
     I read I Kissed Dating Goodbye when it first came out.  I was about sixteen.  I thought it made some good points, but that's all it was for me.  It wasn't earth-shattering or life-changing.  I kind of read it and thought, "I like this and that from it, but not sure if I agree with him about such-and-such a point."  I shrugged it off and moved on to the next book I wanted to read.  I'll share what I basically agree with first, then what I don't.
     I agree that dating without a point is a bad idea.  The ultimate goal of a relationship should be marriage.  For that reason, I believe someone should only go out with a person they would consider a suitable spouse, and generally only at a time in life when marriage could be an option in the near future (which rules out most teen dating, but not all, and not in every situation).  If you want to call this purposeful dating "courtship" that's fine.  If you want to just call it "dating" that's fine too.  I don't feel any specific word is superior.  As someone born in the twentieth century, I tend to use the word "date".  While Joshua Harris' writings talk about courtship, they really just mean dating with purpose, which I completely agree with.  There are a lot of other courtship ideas out there that I disagree with (such as parents needing to supervise and control every aspect of their adult children's relationships, etc.).
     I disagree with the whole concept of how the book talks about giving one's heart away.  We should guard our hearts, especially early on in relationships.  But going out to coffee on a Bible college campus is not giving your heart away.  And guess what?  We blow it sometimes.  Our God is a God of redemption. Both my husband and I had significant others before we met.  These past boyfriends and girlfriends are not haunting our marriage!  They no longer have our hearts at all!  My whole heart belongs to Walter and his whole heart belongs to me.  Past relationships have nothing to do with anything.  This concept in the book made people who had had other relationships before they met their spouse seem like "damaged goods".  Our redemptive God can bring healing where needed.  Guarding our hearts is for our own good, not for the reasons given in the book.  This concept also leads one to conclude that we can't date at all until we've met our future spouse.  How can you possibly know someone is to be your spouse if you haven't spent at least a little time with them?
     So, here is my experience with the effect of this book and ensuring movement.
     In my parents' generation, Party A asked Party B out on a date.  If Party B was interested, they agreed.  From there, a possible relationship could happen, or perhaps Parties A and B would decide not to see each other again.  Pretty simple.
     In my generation, Party A liked Party B, but didn't want to give his/her heart away, so instead, he/she just did awkward things to get Party B's attention.  Once this attention was secured, Party A would back way off and watch Party B from afar, hoping for Party B to initiate some similar attention.  Often Party B would do as Party A hoped and try to get Party A's attention. Back and forth it would go.  No commitment would be made, but people around would sort of recognize them as a couple--but wouldn't officially say the word "couple" or "dating" or anything too "worldly" like that.  No commitment was ever made by Party A and Party B.  Finally, Party B gets so sick of it, he/she confronts Party A and asks, "Are we an item or aren't we?" Party A affects a shocked expression and says, "I just thought we were friends.  I didn't know you liked me that way.  Sorry, but I don't think of you in the romantic sense," and leave Party B feeling stupid, hurt and questioning his/her own sanity.
     Times have changed, haven't they?  Being in my mid-thirties and married, I have no idea what young college-aged singles are dealing with now.
     Sadly, I have been Party B.  Unlike my husband, I didn't come across it much in my Bible college, but instead, with my college-aged mission trips and college/career Bible studies.  One such experience was extremely hurtful and humiliating.  My "Party A" in this scenario pursued me, then denied everything.  What was worse, everyone treated him like the godly paragon of virtue and me like some hussy.  Another, less painful time involved a young man in a Bible study.  He went to crazy lengths to get my attention.  He threw his phone number at me and ran.  He invited me out to his car after church to listen to music.  So much happened.  We would seem to be building up to a relationship.  Then, he would pull back.  It went on and on, and I finally just pulled away.  Years later, we crossed paths and I confronted it.  Of course he denied it all.  Go figure.
     I have no regrets about this stuff.  I am glad these men didn't commit to me.  I am madly in love with my husband, and know he is the one God had for me all along.  I only regret that these men couldn't have honestly said, "Hey, I'm not ready for a relationship.  I know I started it, but I'm just not there right now."
     I knew girls from my mission trip experiences who were obsessed with the whole "courtship" culture.  They told everyone, "I don't date, I court." Their home-school groups didn't have a senior prom, because proms are worldly.  They had a senior ball.  So much holier.  Yet, in spite of these convictions, these girls were terrible flirts.  They often dressed in immodest clothes and rubbed up against the guys.  They used the right words, so they were never called out on their behavior.
     I think the whole I Kissed Dating Goodbye movement has left everyone very confused on the right behavior, and let a lot of bad behavior go on.  God makes it clear in the Bible the way we're supposed to "do life".  I'm convinced that the Bible is our only needed guidebook.  We have a God of grace, not formulas for finding the right person.  We know God's will for our lives by walking with Him daily.  He will lead and guide...and His plan looks a little different for each of us.  That is why I truly don't believe if sharing one's story as a model for all people's experiences.  I think our testimonies should encourage others to trust the Lord, not to copy us.
     I Kissed Dating Goodbye is not even the only book that has been a part of this.  It is the main catalyst, but it is not completely alone.  There are several, some newer, some older.  One I particularly dislike and do NOT recommend is Passion and Purity, by Elisabeth Elliot.  This was given to me after my experience with Party A.  It left me feeling dirty and bad--and I hadn't even sinned in my relationship!  It was very condemning to women who ask for clarification from the men who are pursuing them.  And for those who have given away their virginity prior to marriage, it acts like there's not hope.  So not true.  God redeems all how come to Him in faith and repentance.  We all need to repent our sins, be they sexual or otherwise.  As I said, the Bible is our only needed guidebook.
     It takes a lot of humility for Joshua Harris to admit his mistakes.  Unlike some, I don't think everything he said was wrong.  I just think he was young and zealous--plus other people picked up on it and ran miles beyond his intentions.  Like the rest of us, Joshua Harris has God at work in his life.  I pray God brings him grace and comfort as he works through the quagmire he partially created.

Kids Speak

    I have heard some of the sweetest, strangest, and funniest things from children over the years of ministry.  I'm going to share some of these anecdotes.  Hope you enjoy!

     *10-year-old Jessica was trying to share Christ with a friend.  She came to me, distraught.  She told me what her friend had said.  "She says Jesus wasn't really born on December twenty-fifth!"  Jessica looked as if she thought this quite a heresy.  "I told her, 'You check the Bible!  It's in there!  Jesus was born on December 25!'"  Well, at least she had an evangelist's fervor!

     *Six-year-old Kelly had indicated she wanted to receive Christ as her Savior in a Good News Club I was teaching.  I talked with her, and she seemed to understand what it meant to trust in Christ.  So I helped her pray the sinner's prayer.  Her prayer went something like this: "Jesus, I'm sorry for my sins.  I believe in You.  Come into my heart...and please let me have a lollipop!"

     *I was driving a group of students to AWANA.  My car started having trouble.  I said to myself, "I need to have the car's idle checked out."  Five-year-old EJ overheard me and asked, "Why do you have an idol in your car?  I thought you said idols are bad?"

     *When asked to name three of the Ten Commandments in a Bible Trivia game in my Sunday school class, nine-year-old Hannah said, "No smoking, do drinking, no doing drugs!"  

     *I always took junior high students to the fair to do evangelism.  When I share the gospel with a child and I talk about sin, I also ask, "Can you tell me a sin a boy or girl your age might do?"  This gets the child involved in the discussion.  Anyway, at the fair that day, I had Hannah (from the above anecdote), now age twelve.  Having heard me share the gospel for years, she copied my ways.  While sharing the story with a woman, Hannah asked her, "Can you tell me a sin an adult your age might do?"  I cringed and laughed at the same time.  The woman graciously didn't go into inappropriate territory, but said, "I guess if I park in a handicapped spot and I'm really not handicapped."

     *We had one really difficult boy in our church whom I'll call Tom.  He came with a lot of difficult behavior problems.  One day, he had been especially inappropriate, and I felt I needed to talk with some of the other kids' parents about what had happened so that if they heard it from their children, they would know it had been dealt with.  Anyway, as I was talking with one mother, this difficult boy Tom started walking back toward the church (he had walked home already).  Seeing him coming, I whispered, "Speak of the devil!"  10-year-old Camden overheard me and said, "Tom's not the devil, he's Satan's favorite demon!" 

     *First grader Johnny started the 23rd Psalm, "The Lord is my shepherd, which I don't want.  He makes me lie on green pastors and steals my soul."  He wasn't trying to be rude or funny.  He really thought that's what it said!

     *Seven-year-old Eric began the Lord's Prayer, "Our Father, who art in Heaven, Hollywood be Thy name..."

     *I had one of my Good News Clubs memorize the books of the Bible.  11-year-old Cameron took a long time, but finally got them all.  Along the way, here are some of his tries:  "Genesis...Exodus...Ludicrous"  At the end of the Old Testament: "Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, Anaheim!"

     *I had a group of my Sunday school kids over at my house to bake cookies.  One of the boys, Justin, got very hyper and out of control.  He and another boy got a little bit destructive in their silliness.  I had to ask them to sit in the living room for a minute (to help them calm down).  When I went in to talk with them, Justin was crying.  Before I could say a word, he said, "I have sinned against God and against you!"  From then on, he behaved himself.

     

Reviews and other Ramblings

    I have not written in a while.  I have decided this post will be a reflection of what I have been doing.
     As is often the case with me, I have been reading a great deal.  I always enjoy reading reviews of books, so I will review the literature I have been reading.

     My first review will be of The Angels Walking Trilogy, by Karen Kingsbury.  Ms. Kingsbury is a very talented author.  Every one of her many books that I have read is a page-turner.  However, her books are not what I consider old friends who make me feel good. They are more like the codependent friend who calls me at 2AM with their drama.  Her characters suffer more than any real person I know of!  The characters of Angels Walking are no exception.
     This series focuses on the lives of two young couples.  Each book begins and ends in a meeting of heavenly warriors, sent on the task to intervene in the affairs of men for the sake of a child yet to be born.  This child will grow up to be a great teacher and evangelist. For this reason, the stakes are high.
     When the angels are on earth, they interact in human form, sometimes as police officers, sometimes as neighborhood people.  The human characters believe they are interacting with other humans.
     More than any other books by this author, I feel the salvation message was very clear.  I liked that the main characters who were not believers in the beginning came to salvation in the course of the story (some of them were already believers).  I also like the themes of purity and the sanctity of life that ran through the series.  Ms. Kingsbury's values line up with scripture, and I appreciate that.  It's great reading a book with the right message.
     This series also had a lot of exciting twists and turns, taking the characters from Florida to Los Angeles to Africa.
     As for what I didn't completely relate to or agree with.  First of all, the book constantly talks about people from Los Angeles feeling they have no need for God.  My point of view is that this is not a Los Angeles problem, but a whole world problem.  Being from the Los Angeles area myself, I know many, many churches, Christians and ministries in LA and surrounding areas.  All the great revivals of the 20th century happened in Southern California. People forget that.  This author did.
     I am not sure I agree with the author's view of the Sovereignty of God.  Several times in the story, it referred to things not going as the angels planned, even to the point of human life lost prematurely.  I believe God has more power than that.  I can't claim to know or understand everything about the workings of God, but I know His counsels stand.  If it is not God's time to call a believer home yet, they won't be called home.  We're not left to the mercy of angels bungling the plan.  I believe the author's point was that there was a battle going on in the spiritual realm.  I completely agree with her on this.
     I do believe angels sometimes come in human form, but I believe they much more often work behind the scenes.
     These books were similar to (but more spiritual than) the TV show "Touched by an Angel."
     In conclusion, I enjoyed this series a lot, especially how everything all came together at the end.  I had wanted to read this trilogy for a while, but wanted to wait until all three were written!
     My favorite books about angels, demons, spiritual warfare, etc are "This Present Darkness" and "Piercing the Darkness" by Frank Peretti. If you're looking for a deeper theological read that is still exciting fiction, I'd recommend these two before the Angels Walking Series.

     I have also recently read (for the umpteenth time) "Little Women" by Louisa May Alcott, and it's sequel "Little Men".  These books are truly old friends that I enjoy returning to.
     I first read "Little Women" at age twelve.  Like the central character, Jo March, I wanted to be an author, so I was hooked at the first chapter.  This book is a coming of age story.  It is set in Civil War era Massachusetts (written shortly after, in 1868).  The feelings, experiences and adventures in this book are timeless.  The story follows four sisters in their journey to womanhood.  It chronicles their triumphs, failures, joys, sorrows and loves.
     SPOILER ALERT: Every time I read this book, I truly find myself hoping Beth doesn't die.  The chapter that makes me cry the hardest is when Jo and Beth go to the seaside and Jo discovers Beth is dying.  At that point Beth has given up the fight and accepted her impending death.
     SPOILER ALERT: The first time I read this book, I still thought Jo would marry Teddy (Laurie), even after she had rejected his proposal.  I was shocked when Laurie married Amy.  However, after reading this book numerous times, I can see how there is subtle foreshadowing that Amy will end up with him.
     Little Men, the sequel, is a sweet, mostly fun book.  There are a lot of little life lessons in there, such as self-control, forgiveness, and ambition.  As most of the main characters are between ten and twelve years old, this is not quite a "coming of age" tale.

     I'll end with a different sort of review.  I have also re-watched the three Chronicles of Narnia movies (The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe [2005], Prince Caspian [2008], and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader [2010]).  I own these movies, but hadn't watched them in several years.
     My husband and I are fans of the CS Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia. Earlier lsst year, we enjoyed listening to the audio books on a long trip.  I have read the books numerous times.
     As for the movies...both last decade and now, I enjoyed the casting, the score, and the scenery of the movies.  I'm going to review the movies individually.
     The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe: Georgie Henley shines as Lucy Pevencie.  My opinion is she is the best cast actor in the whole film.  She's absolutely adorable.  The story takes an interesting liberty.  It begins with the London Blitz in World War II.  The Pevencie family must vacate their house, but Edmund runs back in to rescue a photograph of their father (who is off fighting).  Peter runs in after Edmund, and both are almost killed when the window crashes in on them.  Peter loses his temper at Edmund, who just looks sad.  This establishes Edmund as hurting and missing his father.  This is not how he is in the book.  In the book, Edmund is more the nasty little brother.  The movie tried to give him more psychological reason for his later treason.  I prefer the book, because it gives the analogy of total depravity.  Also, this early scene establishes conflict between the two brothers.  I find Peter's character in the movie quite disappointing.  In the book, he is noble and good.  In the movie, he is sarcastic and mean...less likable than Edmund, really.  I felt Susan had a bit of a bad attitude too.  The movie disappointed me in these things, but overall, I still love it.  The coronation scene is a wonderful climax to the story.  The very best part of this movie is a bonus scene that takes place a few seconds into the ending credits.  Lucy is approaching the Wardrobe, hoping to get back to Narnia.  She is stopped by the professor, who says "I don't think you'll get back in that way.  You see, I've already tried." You can see the longing in his eyes.  An understanding passes between Lucy and the professorand she asks, "Will we ever go back?" He replies, "I expect so--but it will probably happen when you're not looking for it.  All I'm saying is to keep your eyes open." Smiling, they join hands and walk away.  Behind them, Alan's outline can be seen in the wardrobe, and the audience can hear Him roar.  This scene is very powerful.  Aslan represents Christ.  He is always there.  Even when we don't see.

  Prince Caspian.  I felt this movie was very sarcastic.  I hated the way Peter treated Caspian.  That is in no way based on the book.  I guess the producer's idea was to demonstrate how Peter would feel after being a king, then having to be a normal kid in high school.  I think he's a little jealous of Caspian too.  I like Edmund and Lucy's development.  Lucy is learning to follow Aslan by faith.  Edmund is very humble.  Susan's little flirtation with Caspian is not based on the book, and didn't seem to fit, but I think it was put in to be interesting.  Susan has sort of a blah personality in both films, so it was hard to relate to her.

     The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.  This is my very favorite of the seven books.  I think this was the kindest, gentlest movie of the three.  The sarcasm is way down.  Perhaps that is because Peter and Susan are barely in it.  Or maybe because this movie had a different producer.  Edmund, Lucy and their cousin Eustice are drawn into Narnia through a picture of a ship.  This movie has a lot out of order from the book, and a lot of extra stuff.  Still, I felt it captured the essence of it well.

     If you have read all my ramblings, I thank you.  If you know these books or movies, give me your opinions.