permission to learn::fear of change (6)

Adel Torres writes from California, where she is wife to Pastor Jose, mother to toddler Toby, and is expecting baby #2 later this year. She is a missionary at heart, and spent time in India, Nepal and other countries before marrying a pastor in the States. This series of posts was originally published on Adel's blog "This Journey, My Home", where she writes about her life, insights, and mission stories. 

In his allegorical story “Who Moved My Cheese”, Dr. Spencer Johnson tells of four characters in a maze. The two rats and two “little people” spend their days running around the maze looking for cheese. One day, they find a generous supply, and after finding it in the same place day after day, the settle into a routine.

One day after a very long time, the cheese is gone! The rats, simple creatures as they are, scurry off to find more, but the Little People wait for the cheese to come back the way it was before. They resented this unexpected change of events, and they had lost the flexibility they had when they were used to running around for more cheese. Besides, since they had become comfortable, they were fearful of stepping out into unfamiliar territory again to find more cheese.

Finally, becoming weak from hunger, one of the Little People puts on his running shoes and starts looking for more cheese. Intimidated at first, he encourages himself by envisioning more and better cheese in his future. And one day, sure enough, after lots of running and little reward, he finds himself in a room with a much wealthier supply of cheese than the one he left behind. His friend stays in the cheeseless room, starving and resentful.

One very valuable lesson the first Little Person learned is:
“The quicker you let go of old cheese, the sooner you can enjoy new cheese.”

If I wrote the story, it would go something like this: The cheese doesn’t disappear, it just grows old and stale. The little people stay and keep eating it because they are so accustomed to it that they don’t notice it getting gross. When presented with the option of looking for new cheese, they react with incredulity and suspicion at the idea that anything should change.

Old cheese tends to do that to people, ya’ know. And all the while a room full of delicious, fresh cheese awaited them somewhere else.

Sound familiar?

Change can be intimidating under any circumstance, but resistance to change can be especially detrimental to personal and collaborative growth on a spiritual level. Certain worship styles, traditions, and even beliefs can become so dear to us that, that, when faced with something new or different, we resist out of our own emotions, mistaking our preference for God’s way.

Don’t misunderstand me: tradition isn’t our enemy.

There are many beautiful traditions and beliefs that ARE God’s way and should not be compromised for any reason. We just need to know what’s what. Once again, when faced with changes that affect our personal beliefs or corporate habits, it’s a call to scrutinize “the way it’s always been” and to educate ourselves about what is truly God’s way.

Jesus had to deal with people who thought things should always be done the way they had always been done. He identified the problem in a gentle parable: “No one puts new wine into old wineskins, or else the new wine will burst the skins, and it will be spilled, and the skins will be destroyed. But new wine must be put into fresh wineskins, and both are preserved. No man having drunk old wine immediately desires new, for he says, ‘The old is better.’"

Are you willing to be a new wineskin?

discontentment
I have to mention this antithesis of the Fear of Change for those few of us who seem to thrive on change. I sometimes feel like I’m always gazing at the horizon, always expecting something wonderful, rarely living to the fullest in the present that is given me. Ambitious, visionary, and sometimes living with the misconception that the grass is always greener around the next bend.

I think I’m starting to get to the age where I realize, hey, this is life, quit expecting it to get better. Kind of a sad realization, but what good is denial?

I’m convinced God has something to teach me here, now, or He wouldn’t have me here. There’s only just so much I can change, and there’s no use grumbling about what I can’t change. Like people, for example. If God put someone in my path that rubs me wrong, and I can’t change them, then He must have ordained them to teach me! Same with life’s situations.

Now... Go take on the day….

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permission to learn::MOUTH ALMIGHTY! (5)

Adel Torres writes from California, where she is wife to Pastor Jose, mother to toddler Toby, and is expecting baby #2 later this year. She is a missionary at heart, and spent time in India, Nepal and other countries before marrying a pastor in the States. This series of posts was originally published on Adel's blog "This Journey, My Home", where she writes about her life, insights, and mission stories. 

the teacher complex
Sometimes we’re so busy thinking about how to change the people around us, that we forget to look out how we need to be changed. I have a problem with this. My mind is often so full of what I could teach someone, if they’d just listen to me, that I’m in danger of missing a chance to learn. I perseverate sometimes, creating elaborate, eloquent, and ego-shredding tongue-lashings in my head.

Seriously, sometimes I lose sleep thinking of things I would say to someone if I had the chance. If nothing else, I get to work on perfecting one of the most valuable lessons I’ve ever learned in life—keeping my mouth shut!

And that’s no small thing, really.

I’m sure you’ve heard the saying that God gave us two ears and one mouth so that we could listen twice as much as we talk. I heard a public speaker excusing himself recently, saying that he was given the “gift” of public speaking but not of listening. Hogwash! How can a man be an effective communicator without listening to, and learning from, the people he wishes to reach? Whether a person is gifted with public speaking skills or not, talking too much is a disease (and sometimes, I think, an epidemic).

No really, you're thinking, I have something people should hear! And it may very well be true, but all in the appropriate time. If people aren’t asking for it, guess what? They’re probably not listening to you anyway! Not only will you be flapping your lips in the wind, but as long as your mouth is open and something is coming out, your ears are closed and so is your chance to learn something.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with an urge to share your thoughts as long as you don’t victimize unwilling listeners: just start a blog! ☺

motormouth
If you ever find yourself feeling like no one listens to you enough, there’s a chance you talk too much. Think about your conversations with people: is the amount of information shared more about you and your life, or more about them? A person who talks about themselves in conversation is dull company indeed, while a person who asks about others is considered a brilliant conversationalist.

You can’t go wrong if you commit yourself to asking lots of questions about someone else and not saying anything about yourself until your asked. If the person you’re talking to never asks about you, trust me, it’s not worth sharing yourself with them! Maybe they just need someone to listen to them, and you’re that person, or maybe they are narcissists, or just haven’t learned the art of brilliant conversation.

You might be thinking, I don’t talk about myself, I talk about other people. Ummm, let’s not even go there!

Here’s another good reason to hold your tongue: quiet people seem smarter. If you’re not convinced, open up your Google browser and type in “quiet people smart”. You’ll be surprised how many links pop up! Quiet people definitely give an impression of being smarter.

Whatever the truth is, I bet they take in more of what goes on around them, and therefore have more learning opportunities!

“Even a fool is thought wise if he keeps silent, and discerning if he holds his tongue.” Proverbs 17:28
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permission to learn::religious conviction (4)

Adel Torres writes from California, where she is wife to Pastor Jose, mother to toddler Toby, and is expecting baby #2 later this year. She is a missionary at heart, and spent time in India, Nepal and other countries before marrying a pastor in the States. This series of posts was originally published on Adel's blog "This Journey, My Home", where she writes about her life, insights, and mission stories. 

It’s really amazing what has been accomplished in the name of God.

Elijah scolded King Ahab in his own palace. Mary Magdalene, with her scandalous reputation, appeared brazenly in the presence of “godly” scholars to honor Jesus. David challenged a Giant at least twice his size and with as much more battle experience. I'm so inspired by these and other great people of faith!

“The greatest want of the world is the want of men,” says one of my favorite quotable quotes, “--men who will not be bought or sold;... men who do not fear to call sin by it's right name."

But it’s also disturbing what horrors have been done in God’s name.

Rome ravished thousands of faithful martyrs. Women are brutalized even today. Nations and church board meetings wage war. Demonstrators picket soldiers' funerals. Elderly ladies tell young women they can’t lead out in the church song service because of how they dress or look. Well-studied listeners bravely rebuke preachers for “erroneous” doctrine.

I’m always amazed how a “conviction from God” can make people feel that they have license to be so un-Christlike to each other. It’s nothing less than the spirit of terrorism.

But there isn’t a soul on earth that we can’t learn something from, no matter how wrong we believe they are. Next time you’re confronted with someone you think has it all wrong, maybe ask yourself a few questions:

• What journey did this person experience in order to arrive at the place they are today? 
• What might they have been taught that I’ve never heard before? 
• What kind of pain have they suffered? 
• What has God done to try to get this person’s attention, how much does He love them? 
• How is He asking you to represent that love? 

Then open your ears and your heart, whether to the rebellious teenager, the heretical pastor, or the psychic on the corner.
Being willing to learn from a person doesn’t automatically mean adopting their mindset or habits. It is certainly true that some people and belief systems are not safe. I’m not saying that we should subject our minds to things against our faith in order to better understand the world. But when we are exposed to them, which is unavoidable, we should always pray for spiritual eyes, to see people’s hearts.

God views every heart without shading His eyes. And He passionately loves each one! We can learn a great deal about the human heart and mind this way, we can learn to be grateful for a knowledge of God, and we can especially learn about our own prejudices if we are willing to examine ourselves. Everything that comes to us is a gift of learning.

So when SHOULD we stand up to wrong?

One, after we have spent so much time with God that our response to sin is first one of grief, and then indignation for the hurt that it causes.

Two, when we love the person so much that we long for their salvation, and our reaction to wrong is with the idea of doing whatever we can to redeem, not to destroy or discourage.

Remember what Jesus did in the face of the worst evil in the history of the universe? He submitted himself to his enemy, and gave his life to death at the hands of the sinners he loved. Are you willing to do that? If you can't confront wrong without keeping in mind that the doer is a child of a God with a precious heart, you might do well to keep your “righteous” indignation to yourself.

I’m not expert enough to share precisely how to tell the difference between "godly conviction to confront wrong" versus "self-righteous indignation". Each of us comes with our own set of biases that cloud our vision. Familiarity with these is the best defense against confusing them with conviction from God.

I can tell you a few things of which I’m sure: when God compels a man or woman to confront wrong, it does not lead to angry outbursts that disgrace God’s name. It does not wound. It will not make you feel smug and justified!

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” (Ephesians 6:12) Let’s not get confused between “spiritual forces of evil” and fellow human beings.

So what can we learn from people whom we believe are wrong?

1) About ourselves.
Examine your heart before reacting to error. Are your feelings in line with the Love of God? Be hard on yourself. Identify whether or not your feelings have something to do with things you’ve experienced rather than what you know of God.

2) About what we truly believe regarding the topic at hand. 
It’s easy to respond negatively to something that goes against cherished beliefs, without really examining our beliefs closely. We should be very sure that we are standing by truth, not man’s tradition.

“Study to show yourself approved to God, a workman that needs not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.” (2 Timothy 2:15)

3) About life: every person has a different set of life experiences. Every person you meet is a veritable encyclopedia of experiences you’ve never had that could help you understand our world better.

4) How to be more Christlike.
Patience, compassion, humility... If we can practice applying these attitudes to people who rub us the wrong way, we are on our way to being more like the Master, and it will come more naturally the next time.

5) That every person has a journey to walk with God.
A wayward kid is no more of a Christian after you scold him for the music he’s listening to. If he truly doesn’t know God, pray for God to reveal Himself and then represent Christ-likeness in your actions. If the kid DOES have a relationship with God, trust that the Holy Spirit will convict them of what is right, when the time is right. As PWs we have to be careful not to try to be the Holy Spirit to someone else. That's blasphemy.

Even parents, senior pastors, and regional church leaders are on a journey.

They are human. They stumble and reach out to grasp the hand of God just like anyone else. Their journey is often more painful because that they are held to a higher standard. We can do a great deal to encourage or discourage our spiritual leaders by our attitude towards them.

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permission to learn::suppression & arrogance (3)

Adel Torres writes from California, where she is wife to Pastor Jose, mother to toddler Toby, and is expecting baby #2 later this year. She is a missionary at heart, and spent time in India, Nepal and other countries before marrying a pastor in the States. This series of posts was originally published on Adel's blog "This Journey, My Home", where she writes about her life, insights, and mission stories. 

SUPPRESSION
I believe there some have experienced so much criticism in their lives that they survive in a small cubicle, surrounded by walls of self-doubt, unable to peek beyond or even understand that there is a world out there to learn from.

Some have built up a nice little mental living space for themselves, complete with carefully groomed creeds and perspectives that keep them entertained. Others live in dark emptiness, having learned that outside of those walls is pain, or a world which they have been told they are not valuable for. Their cubicle is little more than a coffin.

Such a person needs to be given permission to learn. He may not even realize how stuck he is, because his cubicle is so well stocked with his comforting library of dogma. She may feel like there is no purpose in learning or bettering herself because she has nothing to contribute to her world. He might even believe that he is too stupid to learn.

These kinds of limitations tend to apply to both the very old and the very young. I wonder, sometimes, for a person who has been in a cubicle for many years, and has been taught to stay there by, say, a critical spouse or a domineering religious conviction, how much hope there is of breaking out? With God, all things are possible, but people are especially in need of compassion and gentleness.

If you are reading this and feel that you are in danger of stagnating because of suppression, take this as your permission to learn! Remember, God doesn’t make junk, and there is no child of His on earth who lacks value or intellect to learn from and contribute to life.

He will teach you, and He will use you!

ARROGANCEWe’ve all known someone who simply refuses to be taught because they are convinced they are better than, and know more than, the people around them. I have little to say about this one, because I think the arrogant person is typically motivated by underlying shame and fear of criticism or rejection.

Probably every one of us has been guilty of responding with arrogance to a potential learning experience because we either feel threatened, or we think we’re superior to the lesson. If we feel threatened, that’s a sure sign we have something to learn, and if we feel superior to the lesson, the first thing to learn is that we are NEVER superior to ANY lesson!

(To be continued...)

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permission to learn::self-protectiveness (2)

Adel Torres writes from California, where she is wife to Pastor Jose, mother to toddler Toby, and is expecting baby #2 later this year. She is a missionary at heart, and spent time in India, Nepal and other countries before marrying a pastor in the States. This series of posts was originally published on Adel's blog "This Journey, My Home", where she writes about her life, insights, and mission stories. 

SELF-PROTECTIVENESS...
...From Judgment
Once a church member pulled me aside after church and told me I should never correct my husband in front of other people. I smiled and agreed, but inside I was a ball of rebellious emotions.

Was she sexist? What did she know about my relationship with my husband? Who was she to advise me on marriage issues: she’d only been married once, and he tried to run her over with a car! In fact, because my husband preached to that group in his second language, she and the other listeners corrected him throughout his whole sermon!

Even though in the back of my mind I knew it shamed my husband to be corrected in front of other people, and I was willing to try not to, I allowed a wedge to come in my heart between myself and that woman. I did not like feeling vulnerable to someone who I felt was judging me and misunderstanding me. I didn’t like her to think she had that liberty with me.

I put a wall of protectiveness up and kept a careful rein on myself in that circle from then on.

...From Hurt
We’ve all had someone who has hurt us. Sometimes the people closest to us know how to push our buttons like no one else does. They know where are weakest points are, and they love to drive an ice pic into them now and then.

Sound familiar? How can we learn from people like that? I’ll let you know when I have the answer. I just know the important part is being willing to learn.

...From Being Wrong
Some of us have this funny idea that we must be right all the time, and if we’re every wrong or make a mistake or fail, it will be totally devastating. This can be even more pronounced in those of us with religious convictions. Ironic, since the Bible doesn’t ever condone this kind of self-standard. In fact, God assures us that when our heart condemns us, to remember that He is greater than our hearts. (1 John 3:20)

This kind of impossible standard leads to all kinds of pit-falls. Besides preventing us from learning from common mistakes, it separates us from others. We cannot allow people to see our imperfections, because it hurts too much. And if we are ever nuts enough to convince ourselves we have arrived at flawlessness, then we become superior too, and often critical of others. Then we become the kind of person that others protect themselves from, and the cycle continues.

Ironically, the person we can learn the most from is often the person we feel the need to be most RIGHT around—that’s right, our spouse.

...From Being Consumed
I’m realizing this is one I especially struggle with. In trying to figure out why I shut myself off from vulnerability to certain people, I've concluded that sometimes I’m just afraid to be sapped. These people aren’t exactly harmful. "What do they want from me that I’m afraid to give them?" I have had to ask myself.

It’s not money. They want time, some of them, which I try to give. I listen politely, but not with my heart.

I think it’s really affirmation that I’m afraid to give. I don’t know if this possibly makes sense, I’m only beginning to recognize it myself. There are some people that seem to desperately need to be recognized, acknowledged, agreed with. Sometimes I don’t think they deserve recognition, sometimes I disagree with them, and usually I find their approach simply irritating. Something in me senses their vacuum for a connection that for some reason I am unwilling to give.

And what exactly would it take from me to do that for them? I don’t know. I only know sometimes I don’t feel capable, I don’t feel like I have enough for them, there are so many of them, and then to have enough for my family and myself. Enough of what? I don’t know. I don’t know!

Then there are cases where people do want more of our time and resources than we can give. And we do put up walls to protect those things. We need God to show us where the balance is on that, but I don’t think the answer is ever to close our hearts to anyone.

...From Being Devalued
Once I complained to my husband about feeling like I needed help from someone who had a good eye for style. He recommended someone he thought could help me. I couldn’t do it, because I already felt like a pathetic country bumpkin in that person’s eyes. I felt misunderstood, and couldn’t bear to confirm what I perceived was their opinion of me.

I’m not saying my reasons were right or wrong, simply that shame can prevent us from being learners.

Self-protectiveness causes us to build barriers around ourselves that keep us locked inside. This is something we do to ourselves, a survival mechanism in an unfriendly world. It's a natural result of a healthy mind, in most cases, and serves a purpose, but we also need to recognize when it is limiting us.

There are other things that can keep us from learning, most of which could be categorized under self-protectiveness, but may not always be as easy to identify.

(To be continued...)

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permission to learn (1)

Adel Torres writes from California, where she is wife to Pastor Jose, mother to toddler Toby, and is expecting baby #2 later this year. She is a missionary at heart, and spent time in India, Nepal and other countries before marrying a pastor in the States. This series of posts was originally published on Adel's blog "This Journey, My Home", where she writes about her life, insights, and mission stories. 

We recently sat down for a visit with a family friend who has been a great source of wisdom and support in our lives. As we chatted about life’s challenges, he told us about his early days as a teacher in a junior high classroom.

“When I started teaching,” he said, “I made it a point to establish right from the beginning that I was the teacher and THEY were the students.” He laughed, “Those kids spent the rest of the year making me a student!”

He went on to explain, “It wasn’t until I realized I didn’t have all the answers that I gave myself permission to learn.”

In fact, now in his work with teens, he makes it a point to listen most distinctly to the most difficult ones, because he believes they have the answers that will help him understand how to minister to others.

It reminded me of something I once heard said by Pastor Clarissa Sproul. If you have committed yourself to be a student of God, she says, you better realize that every situation in life is a potential learning opportunity. That means every PERSON in your life is your teacher! Every single person.

That challenged my thinking.

I thought I was pretty teachable, but when I started going through the list of “difficult” people in my life, I discovered a whole university's worth of potential teachers that I wasn’t especially comfortable with.

EVERY person?

That includes the Critical Church Member. The Schizophrenic off the street. The Guy who’s beliefs sound heretical to mine. The Difficult Family Member. And my own Spouse—ouch!

So what exactly is preventing me from being willing to learn in these situations?

There are a number of reasons any of us might refuse to learn, and that's what this series of posts is about. 

(To be continued...)

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why I'm afraid I'll never be a good pastor's wife...

Adel Torres writes from California, where she is a wife to Pastor Jose, and mother to Toby. Adel is a missionary at heart, and spent time in India, Nepal, and other countries before marrying a pastor in the States. This deeply transparent post was originally published on Adel's blog "This Journey, My Home", where she writes about her life, insights, and stories. 

Disclaimer: When I wrote this, I'd just had an "aha" moment where I realized that my sense of unfitness isn't from trying to meet someone else's or my own unreasonable expectations. Rather, my feeling of being misplaced has to do with my own belief system. This is in no way an effort to discredit or discourage pastors, or even an attempt to justify my stance. It's simply venting my confusion...

Whenever I say to someone that I don't feel like a good pastor's wife, I'm asked what I expect a pastor's wife to look like and if I'm trying to meet an unreasonable standard.

I don't know how to answer.

I'm the biggest believer in "being myself" and yet, strangely, I have found it virtually impossible to be true and honest in the position I am in. How does a pastor's wife struggle with challenges in her own relationship with God without discouraging others? How does a woman with a quick, sarcastic sense of humor CONSTANTLY bite her tongue? How does a pastor's wife take hugs from people who are professionals at back-stabbing her husband?

The answer, of course, is to love as God loves, but sometimes that's easier said than done. In the meantime, I can be the picture of serenity and sweetness while inside I am a brewing volcano of frustration. Or suppressing laughter for some irony I've noticed that would be scandalous to point out.

Of one thing I am convinced: I desperately need to experience God's love so that I can be more gracious with others. That is something that I EARNESTLY pray for, and often I am so discouraged by my own hardness!!!!

But I'm sure I'm not the first pastor's wife to struggle with that.

There's also a deeper and more perplexing reason I'm afraid I'll never fit in the pastor's wife role. Deep down, I'm afraid I don't really believe in pastoring. I have such a hard time believing that so many Godly, educated, able-bodied men need to babysit populations of informed, capable, well-groomed pew-warmers while more than half of the world is starving to know about Jesus. I wish that the last 4 1/2 years had convinced me of the need for such a thing, but instead I have seen congregations in which part of the people resist leadership while those who don't resist are mature enough to lead themselves (and maybe some overlap between the two).

As I understand it, (at least in the worldwide denomination we serve) roughly 10% of American resources go to reach the 60% of the world that is untouched by the gospel. That means 90% of money, supplies, and people-power is spent on the 40% who are Christians or who already know about Christianity and don't want to be Christians.

That is a really big deal to me, and I can't seem to get over it no matter how much I pray for contentment in the role that I am in. "No one should hear the gospel twice," says a friend of ours, "as long as there are people who have never heard it once." Believe me, I see an allegory of this played out every week at potluck (especially at the dessert table). I believe in this strongly.

But I am obviously missing something, because I believe God led us into pastoral ministry, and that He has continued to do so. I've been waiting a long time for the Mission Boat to pick me up, and all the while God has gently been saying to me, "Wrong boat, honey, at least for now." I pick up mission magazines and I don't read them because they make me cry. I can't understand this passion, this burden in my heart that I believe God has put there.

For me, pastoral work and what I have firmly believed is "my overseas mission calling" have been in direct conflict. But this is where God put me. It is agonizing, and confusing. It has taken its toll on my faith.

I don't know what the future holds. God MUST put love in my heart. Will He fill in the missing piece of my belief system so that I see pastoral work as more of a valid and necessary calling? Will I be a pastor's wife forever?? I'm trying SO HARD not to think of that right now! Sometimes I'm thankful I can't see into the future.

Whatever it is, it's in God's hands. Today I'm taking it one day at a time, walking through the doors that open, praying to be a better wife and mother, and learning to trust that God will save the World (with or without me).

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communion

Four times a year our church celebrates the Last Supper with a foot-washing ceremony and partaking of unleavened bread and grape juice. Every time we show up and I see that white cloth draped over the dishes, I stop in my tracks for a minute, suddenly feeling exposed at the core of my selfishness. I guess that's why a lot of people don't come to church when we're celebrating Communion.

I stand in that moment of vulnerability, wishing I'd done my repentin' before I got to church and had showed up with my heart bleached and starched with nothing to be remorseful of. What's amazing is how many times it's right after a fight with my husband or a fall to temptation. I want to run away. I don't measure up. I deserve a spanking, not to partake of this symbol of purity and selflessness. And every time, in that moment of shame, I remind myself that this is exactly what it was meant for. If that blood was shed for the chief of sinners, certainly it was shed for a disgruntled pastor's wife who never quite feels like she makes the cut.

And it's not just a reminder that forgiveness is always mine. It's a reminder that Jesus measured up, and I can stop bearing the shame of my own shortcomings. It's a reminder that He finished the fight and won the race and He holds out the victory cup as a free gift to me, the guy who straggled in last. It's all there, symbolized by that sip of red juice and that crumbly cracker. All that's left is for me to remember the lesson more often than four times a year. Four times a day might be about right....

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breaking out

I always thought of myself as an outgoing person before I became a pastor’s wife. I dove head first into being a partner to my husband, attending meetings with him and trying to pull together events. I quickly became discouraged and disillusioned by “culture shock” and found it harder and harder open myself up and play the social butterfly. After three years in our district, I’m ashamed to say there are many people I’ve never gotten to know.

I recently experienced a pangs of guilt as watched the familiar figure of a single dad with his two bored-looking kids file into the pew in front of me. I had never talked to them. The boy, about 12 with freckles and spiky blond hair, had made himself infamous by making rude and disrespectful comments to some of the other patrons. The girl always looked like she had just crawled out of bed with a vacant stare and rumpled hair.

After the service I overheard the father trying in vain to talk his kids into coming into the fellowship hall for lunch. The kids sauntered around like they didn’t care. “Are you guys going to come in?” I asked.

To my surprise they immediately said, “Sure,” and walked right inside.

I found myself near the girl once inside. I guess I’d been too intimidated by these kids to be friendly. So I forged ahead and started asking the girl questions. I had never ever learned her name. I was again pleasantly surprised by how easily she opened up, and by what I learned about her. It was so neat to see how the kids and the people sitting around them opened up and chatted during lunch.

The same afternoon we went out to a grassy spot by the lake with some other church members. In attendance was a family we hadn’t gotten to know well. This particular church has been divided by prejudices which had prevented some valuable friendships from forming. It was beautiful to watch walls begin to come down after so much strife and prayer.

A few days later I was surprised to get an e-mail from the couple’s daughter, a girl who came across as sullen and superior. Even though I always suspected she was just shy, I’d never been successful in drawing her out. Now she was writing me a little note, a casual hand reached across the gap to make friends. I felt honored and motivated to pull down my own barriers and try harder to find the hearts buried in the people around me. Why does it take so long?

© CLUTCH, 2010 unless otherwise sourced.
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the garden

It wasn’t anything to look at, really. Just an ugly patch of land next to an empty cow pasture, scattered with scruffy weeds and a few dead tomato plants from last year. Scraggly, leafless branches from a peach tree pretended to stand guard on one side. There was a reason the house stood with its windowless wall toward the hard, lifeless ground. 
Slowly, almost imperceptibly as the days passed, the cold began to melt into the warmth of early spring.

One day the gardener came to tear away the old dead plants and turn the soil. With sharp, painful strokes, his till slashed through the hard surface, grinding the weeds and leaving the flesh of the earth exposed and vulnerable. The children came and sunk their bare feet into its rich, soft warmth.

Before the weeds had a chance to reclaim their forbidden ground, the shovel began his work of forming the pliant surface into hills and valleys and furrows in preparation for the unseen plants that would someday take root.

The shovel gouged pits then tossed in the black, foul-smelling steer dung. Back and forth, in and out, up and down it went in that lifeless ground, always with a vision of what would be.

At long last the first little green tomato plants were put in place. They hardly looked like anything worth getting excited about, dwarfed as they were in the midst of their small craters, and the great expanse of brown stretching out around them. By sundown their little leaves looked sadly down at the ground, seemingly overwhelmed by the job ahead of them.

Small packets of seeds were brought. There were little wedged sunflower, squash, and cucumber seeds, round peas and okra, flat peppers and eggplants, none of them much bigger than the tip of your finger. There were seeds so small a light breeze could have carried them far and away, never to be seen again. All were dry as bones, some hard as little stones. They disappeared into the deathly darkness of the earth with only a whispered hope of return. And there they lay.

And as they lay invisible, I waited. I waited and wondered what, if anything, was happening. Were their dry little hearts being stirred to, or were they lost forever? Was a teeny sprout forming, even now, drawing strength and life from the drop of rich food in the seed?

Each day, the water soaked the unbroken surface, calling through its liquid voice for life to come forth. Day after day only the silent brown face looked up into the sky. The little tomatoes and other seedlings began to gain a little strength, but the seeds seemed lost.

After seven days, wonder of wonders, a tiny bit of green showing through the brown! Then two more, then three, and the first one had become two tiny leaves! The peas pioneered the surface. They grew quickly, soon reaching tiny spiraling tendrils into the warm air, looking for something to climb.

After many days came the squash, with bigger, bolder leaves breaking the surface, and then the sunflowers. They all looked nearly the same at the beginning, just two plain little green leaves, some smaller than others. There wasn’t anything very special or distinguishing about them. But, ah, they were life, green life coming from brown dirt, black dung, dry seeds, clear water, yellow sunshine, and the miraculous hand of God.

From a distance, what was once a patch of dull brown became speckled with these bright spots of living green. Many many days passed. The blossoms came to the fruit trees and then the leaves. The sun became hot in the afternoons. The weeds surrounding the plot began to age and yellow. But on that once ugly, dray patch of ground, the green was overtaking the brown.

The leaves and stems stretched and stretched and stretched towards the sunshine, some faster and some slower. From those tiny seeds, sunflowers shot skyward, drinking in every drop of sunlight that came their way. Pumpkin vines began to spread their fuzzy arms along the ground. Squash plants sprouted like green fountains.

The sun beat down with all its might. But for all its withering fury, the plants only responded with stouter gladsome greenness. At the end of the hottest of days, they seem to be only bigger and lovelier for all the torment.

And then, between the leaves little blossoms opened their happy faces. Bright yellow, white, purple, all of them stating a silent promise. As they withered and faded, their bases began to grow fat. Next came skinny flat pea pods, tiny green tomatoes, thin cucumbers, and shiny purple eggplants. They grew and they grew. Some of them changed color. Above it all the tops of the tallest plants began to swell and grow fat, fuzzy bulbs.

And one day, without warning, their protective leaves opened, and bright yellow and rusty red faces of sunflowers appeared. In the morning they watched the sun rise in the east, following it through its heavenly course until at last the witnessed it sink into the west, with colors to match them.

The plants draw the water and nutrients from that dull brown earth, and as they drink in the sunshine, they work a miracle in their members, and out comes the beautiful, rich fruit, red, green, yellow, purple, orange….

What machine could ever compare? What factory has made anything so magical and sweet and refreshing as a tomato straight out of the garden? Or what man-made process produces anything that snaps like a fresh bell pepper or cucumber?

What can money buy compared to standing in the middle of the greenness on a warm summer evening just after the sun has set, breathing in the special smell of tomato leaves, plucking a handful of cherry tomatoes here, a fat zucchini there, a bouquet of fresh basil there, watching the moon’s brightening reflexion shimmering in the watered troughs?

"And the Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your soul in drought, and make your bones fat; you will be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose waters fail not." Isaiah 58:11

© CLUTCH, 2010 unless otherwise sourced.
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in praise of cockroaches

If there is one insect I really hate, it's a cockroach. I spent some time in a village in the Philippines, where there must have been a dozen different kinds.

One morning I woke up excited about my new stash of fresh apples that had been delivered from town the day before. I was horrified to find them COVERED in inch-long roaches, having a regular fiesta! I didn't want to spray bug spray on my precious apples and I was too mad to let them live. In a flash I grabbed a fork and had 6 of them impaled before they knew what hit them (pretty impressive, since cockroaches see the world in slow-motion).

So you can just imagine that when we moved into our new home here, I was not at all impressed to find fat black roaches infesting my new garden plot. I am going to get RID of these roaches! I thought. I used bug spray on a lot of them and then turned to google for answers. You can find anything online, right? What I found wasn't what I had expected. I was sure there was no good purpose for roaches, but I was wrong! I was surprised to discover that roaches are good for composting. The roaches and I would simply have to coexist, because I love gardening.

This year we had a compost pile for the first time. It was rich, smelly, fluffy, red-brown. And FULL of roaches and other insects. I must confess I can't say I LOVED getting in the middle of it with a shovel, but I knew that if my plants could talk, they would take one look at it and say, "YUMMY!"

I had plenty of time to contemplate on this in the warm sun of that early spring day. It's really neat how God's taken so many of the ugly things of this world and used them to make something beautiful. Just like 1 Corinthians 1:27 says God has chosen the foolish things of this world to confound the wise.

I only pray that He will use the little irritations in my life to work within me the kind of beauty that will come from my garden in a couple months.

© CLUTCH, 2010 unless otherwise sourced.
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Some Home-Makin's

So last week I got all creative and made some yummy things in the kitchen. It seems like no matter what else I let slip through the cracks, I always manage to spend a good deal of time with sculpting tasty (and some NOT so tasty) inventions. This time my batting average was so good, I thought I'd share a few recipes.

The "No Knead Bread" recipe was really an exciting discovery, because while I love home-made bread, I hate kneading. I know, I know, someone already asked me why I don't use it to get my aggression out, but as I told them, it just won't work unless I can knead on the floor, and not only is the floor not clean enough, but neither are my feet and knees! So, with that appetizing picture in your heads, here is the link http://www.nytimes.com/2006/11/08/dining/081mrex.html) (I'm not going to write out the recipe here, because the directions are long) The dough must sit 12-18 hours, but compared to regular bread, this is very easy.



This recipe is something of a template you can do all kinds of exciting things with! I made one loaf with 2 cups whole wheat flour to 1 cup white, and with a tablespoon of brown sugar (would have used honey, if I had it). For the other loaf, I chopped up fresh thyme, oregano, and sage from my garden and mixed it in. It was DELICIOUS warmed and dipped in spinach dip. In the future I want to try rosemary bread, kalamata olive bread, roasted garlic bread, cheese bread....

The recipe calls for a covered oven-safe pot, such as a dutch oven. I don't have one, but I'm definitely on the lookout for a deal on one now! I just put the dough in a pan and covered with foil, rounding it out to give the bread room to rise a little.
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My next trick was coming up with a quick potluck dish after I burned the beans. So here's a rough recipe for the pasta salad I made that actually turned out quite tasty:

On package spiraled pasta (or whatever kind you like)
One bunch asparagus, cut into spears and steamed gently
A handful of sliced red and yellow sweet peppers
A bunch of fresh spinach, chopped into big squares
1 small can mushrooms (I didn't have any fresh)
--The rest you'll just have to use your judgement on amounts, since, as you can see, I cook by dashes, pinches, and splashes:
vegetable oil
sesame oil
balsamic vinaigrette (Might be better with an asian style vinegar, like rice vinegar?)
Soy sauce
Roasted sesame seeds (I'm crazy about these. I do them in a skillet or under the broiler, mixing frequently. I put them in all kinds of things because they're so flavorful and healthy)
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Seasoned Potato Wedges

3 red potatoes washed and cut into wedges
1-2 Tbsp olive oil, depending on how low-cal you want them
1 tsp lemon juice
2 tsp salt
2-3 Tbsp ground rosemary (if you don't have any ground, just throw it in the blender)
1 Tbsp nutritional yeast

Mix all ingredients in a bowl and spread on an un-greased cookie tray. Bake at 350 until cooked through, turning occasionally. Increase temperature to 450 and brown on both sides to your preference. Again, these are estimated amounts, so you might play with the recipe to get it just how you like it. My PW loved these so much, he's making them right now!
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Home-made Yogurt

This is an easy one to find a recipe for online, but some of them are so complicated and I just don't know why. Most recipes recommend using a candy thermometer and following very strict guidelines for temperature, but I know the yak-herders in western Tibet don't have candy thermometer and they seem to manage alright. The first time I made it, I had no candy thermometer and it came out fine. Here's what I do:

1. Pour as much milk as you want into a pan. I haven't noticed much difference in flavor between low-fat or regular milk. Bring to a boil SLOWLY, stirring occasionally to prevent scorching. If you use a candy thermometer, temperature should be at least 180 degrees.
2. Remove from heat and let cool until it's the temperature of a nice hot bath, but not burning (110-115 degrees). At this point you can add sugar, if you like your yogurt sweet. Personally, I like it plain. Add a dallop of plain yogurt with live cultures (it will say on the container).
3. Maintain this temperature for 6-8 hours. I know, this is the tricky one, since burners and ovens and crockpots don't go that low. What I've done is wrap the pot in towels and put them in a warmed oven (i preheat oven to "warm" then turn off, do this a couple times before retiring for the night), and then I leave it 'til morning.
4. In the morning, it should be set up. If you've made it sweet, you could add fruit or jam. Tastes great with homemade bread....
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Chocolate chip Oatmeal Cookies

Last but not least, must have some cookies! This isn't my recipe. I just used the first recipe I found online and they turned out so yummy! I actually used carob chips in and attempt to be healthy, but I can't say they were all that healthy....

Preheat oven to 325.
Whip with egg beater:
1 cup butter, softened
1 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar

Add and whip:
2 eggs followed by 2 tsp. vanilla extract

Mix dry ingredients together, then mix with moist ingredients:
1 1/4 cup white flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt

Stir in:
3 cups quick oats
then 1 cup chocolate chips and 1 cup *chopped walnuts

Drop by spoonfuls onto un-greased tray. Directions say to bake 12 minutes, but I baked them at least 15. Supposed to make 3 1/2 dozen.

*Chopping walnuts is another thing I find a hassle. Put your walnuts in a ziploc bag and run a rolling pin over them a few times until they break into the size of pieces you want.
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Someday when I can work out ingredient amounts, I'll share my tabouli recipe. In the meantime, happy cooking and eating!

© CLUTCH, 2010 unless otherwise sourced.
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hiding in thee

Nearly every time I put my little boy back to bed after nursing him in the night, he lets out a darling little baby fart. One of the things that's so gloriously wonderful about babies is their complete ignorance of themselves. Here in a world where we're always being told we need to know ourselves, stand up for ourselves, and look within ourselves, I'm convinced that true fulfillment comes from being outside of ourselves. No wonder God told us to be like little children.

I was pondering this state of selflessness recently after another look into the life of Christ. This God-man slept, ate, and breathed the will of His Father, which was to bring light and life to suffering humanity. A quote by Hudson Taylor, early missionary to China, has lodged itself forever in my mind, "Measure your life by loss instead of gain. Not by the wine drunk, but by the wine poured forth. For love’s strength standeth in love’s sacrifice. And whosever suffereth most hath most to give."

A recent Bible lesson in our church was on meekness, this unassuming state of being which was once considered to be pathetic and weak. To me, meekness looks like being invisible with the image of Christ shining through. I hunger for that invisibility. I am the kind of person who easily takes personal offenses to heart, and I'm often too quick to withdraw from people. I pray for that "Christ esteem." I long to be so unaware of self and so connected with Christ that when negativity comes my way, I can smile knowing that Christ takes it on my behalf.

The other challenge is letting God take things on my husband's behalf. The lady who calls and chews him out for every little thing doesn't have to ruin my day. Or the lady who needs him to know about every good deed she's doing in the community. Or the man who subtly uses his influence to undermine my husband's leadership. I'm sure you all have these kinds of people God is challenging you to love.

You've heard it said that you can never love another person until you've learned to love yourself. I'm not so sure about that. But I do think I can only learn to love these people as I learn to hide myself and my identity, my feelings, and my rights within the Lover of my soul.

© CLUTCH, 2010 unless otherwise sourced.
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introducing::Adel Torres

For as long as I can remember, the one thing I always wanted was to be a missionary nurse living in a hut in some far-off land, telling the story of Jesus to people who never heard it before. Most nights during my childhood I drifted off to sleep with images of steamy jungles, headhunters, and thatch-roofed huts like in the bedtime stories Mom read to us. My dad was involved in ministry (though not pastoring) and his work took him across the sea on many great adventures. Each time we watched as his aircraft lifted off the runway, I couldn’t wait until the day I was the one taking off.

On one of those trips my daddy didn’t come home, and one little 8-year-old girl began longing for heaven like a grown woman. More than ever, I wanted the world to know the Good News so we could leave this lonely, painful planet behind and have that long-awaited reunion. In high school I found Jesus in a whole new way, and invited God the Father to be MY Father. I earned my nursing degree and watched many runways slip away behind me as I explored horizons told The Story in the Philippines, Albania, Nepal, India, and a few places in between.



I prepared myself for many things, none of which was being married to a pastor. In the midst of wedding and mission plans, God slipped my husband and I a temporary assignment to a 3-church district in what I have heard called “pretty much the only place in California that is just dead.” Many of our church members here have never been outside of California. Once, while I was preparing to share a mission talk, someone looked in the bulletin and asked me, “What is ‘Nepal’?”

After 3 ½ years of restless yearning for slipping runways, I am still struggling to learn the contentment Paul had in whatever state he found himself. I am less likely to attend a women’s ministries meeting or lead out in the Bible lesson than I was when I first came. But here in this “dead” valley of California, I have experienced the most amazing journey ever with the birth of my son in the Fall of ’09. For me, being a mother to my darling son Tobiyah ("Tobi") and a good wife to Jose, the man I love, are 99% of what being a pastor’s wife is all about. The other 1% is available for the church. And 100% of that must be recommitted every day to this God I am still learning to trust.




(I am natural child-birthing, exclusive breastfeeding, non-vaccinating, vegetarian, home-remedying, nature-loving, gardening, stay-at-home, and do-it-yourself. Incidentally, I DO shave my legs.)

© CLUTCH, 2010 unless otherwise sourced.
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