The Willem

Lessons from Nepal

// December 19th, 2009 // No Comments » // Perspectives, Reflection

My best friend from childhood recently got back from over a year of teaching English in South Korea, but had an opportunity to go hiking in the Himalayas before coming home. The following is a poignant note that I asked permission to post here, because I thought we could all benefit from reading it.

After spending a year abroad there are literally countless stories and experiences I could relate to anyone interested enough to hear them, however few were as poignant as those I had while traveling in Nepal. I may or may not have had a chance to share much with you about my recent trip through the Himalayas aside from photos, but of all the experiences and stories the trip sent home with me there is one in particular I feel compelled to express.

On the 16th day of the hike we were making our way from a village called Tatopani to another named Ghorepani, a distance of 9.9 miles and elevation gain of 3,756 feet. Traversing along the trail, through river valleys that would make Paul Bunyan proud and beside mountains that invoke a small dizzy spell when your eye attempts to find their peaks, we passed numerous smaller villages. The inhabitants of these villages were ever busy using handheld scythes and hoes to harvest their small patches of terraced farmland, spreading grain to dry on flat areas they were able to claim from the slopes, herding mules which carried regional fruits and resources to neighboring districts, and catering to the occasional tourist who would stroll through awe-stricken at the natural beauty and simplistic lifestyle surrounding him or her.

Though much of the low mountain population have spent the length of their years living in villages just like these, there is a hint that the same may not always be true. Along the trail bounce bright eyed and energetic youngsters dressed in skirts and blouses for the girls, and shirts and ties for the boys. Happily they are making their way to school, playing and laughing. For these students school is no less than one hour’s walk up the same steep slopes foreigners pay thousands of dollars to prove their cardiovascular prowess on. I would occasionally walk to school when I was a child, yet only while watching these children did I appreciate not having to dodge trains of mules trotting down my path, as well as the odiferous presents they so indifferently leave behind. The oil spots and sidewalk cracks I used to hop over seemed to pale in comparison.

About half way up a particularly steep portion of the trail, devoured by winding rock steps, we stopped to take a water break and enjoy the visual fruits of the effort we had just put in. As we sat for a minute to gaze across the valley and note the technique of the nearby woman rhythmically cutting her grain stalks from their roots, two groups of children came to my attention. The first was made up of about 20 or 30 boys and girls rushing up nature’s Stairmaster with plastic chairs hooked through their arms like an additional backpack. Curious why they had chairs, I inquired, at which point our guide explained that today was exam day, and that they took their own chairs in order to make sure everyone had a place to sit. Just so we’re clear, these kids were hiking, not walking, an hour to school, dodging mules and mule feces, and carrying their own chairs so that they could take a test. You can believe my children will someday hear this story on test day.

I almost didn’t notice the second group, this one made up of three girls standing off the trail just to the side of a small teahouse where the mountain had allowed another small flat space to rest. These girls stood and watched the other children passing by them; they were not on their way to school. Instead of neatly folded uniforms they had weather worn clothes, the reds and browns stained by dirt. Their backpacks were replaced by baskets, half as tall as they were and filled with fruit and firewood, which they carried with a sole strap hiding their hairlines. Their demeanor was not one of excitement like the other kids. It was one of fatigue. They were a short distance from their destination, home was just up the hill, but they remained immobile and looked on as the other children elevated toward their scholastic endeavors. Looking in their eyes it was plain to see that they desperately wanted to follow and to attend school that day. Again curious, I asked why they were not included in the procession of students. Our guide politely informed us that there were still those who did not allow their daughters to go to school because they were just that, daughters and not sons. Instead the parents keep them at home to labor in the fields. As I turned my attention back to these three girls a remarkable thing happened. Though he phrased it more delicately than I, our guide’s words hit me with a force I didn’t expect, and although we spoke different languages no words needed to be exchanged in order for me to now understand every ounce of what these girls felt. Their longing gazes brought a sadness over me, and as we strapped on our backpacks to follow the last of the chair toting school kids up the hill my steps turned to autopilot and I became lost to the world.

One of the things I love about hiking is the opportunity for reflection it provides. I find nothing more relaxing or enlightening than walking silently through nature, and as we walked the remaining miles to Ghorepani, I thought. The sadness transformed to anger, (How arbitrary! Can’t they see their daughter’s faces?!) which over a length of time I can’t estimate evolved again into concerned inquisitiveness (Why do these parents think that’s okay? Why do I not? Who or what could do the work in their place?).

Ironically enough, the majority of us learned in school about children who don’t have the opportunity for education. Witnessing it in person, however, brought a different poignancy. It makes me feel profoundly fortunate to live in a place like America where opportunity abounds by comparison, however it also drives me to believe that simply ‘feeling’ fortunate is not enough. As my tread repeatedly left its print on the earth behind me my thoughts gradually clarified. I certainly would not argue that a life farming and laboring cannot find happiness, far from it, but imagine the tremendous obstacles these girls will have to overcome to pursue something different in life if they so choose. If they do want something different, how limited are their choices because of something as uncontrollable as gender? How many like them have little choice but to resign and accept the constraints of a reality they feel they cannot alter?

Have you ever met someone who has an amazing talent or opportunity and throws it down the drain? It makes you a little bit angry, doesn’t it? If you had that talent, or that opportunity, well you would certainly be making the most of it. Wouldn’t you?

Are you?

Opportunities for growth and betterment are literally everywhere, for ourselves, but perhaps even more importantly for others. Consider for a second what you’ve been given. The opportunities you started out with the day you were borne. They may be few or they may be many, but I’d be willing to bet they are more numerous than someone who is not given the right to an education because of their gender, and is thereby forced into a life of labor looking forward to an arranged marriage, which is still very common in Nepal. Regardless of your circumstances, you are more fortunate than someone. Regardless of your circumstances, you have more opportunities than someone. And regardless of your circumstances, you have the ability to prove your worth to everyone. It is the role of the powerful to protect the weak, not control them. It is the role of the fortunate to help the underprivileged, not pity them.

I will never forget the looks on the faces of those three girls. It was pain, it was jealousy, and it was desire. It is all too often moments like these, which pass in only a minute or two, that can strike a chord deep within you or can be forgotten in the buzz of the world around them.

A life spent in contemplation does little benefit without action to support it. Likewise, action without forethought can do more damage than good. I would challenge you who may read this to reflect on your own role; the role of the fortunate, the role of the powerful; and to summon the courage to act on your conclusions. May we all be blessed and strive toward the better we know is out there.

AAAAAAAAaaaaannnnnd……..Tears

// November 27th, 2009 // No Comments » // I just started writing and..., Perspectives, Prayer

I expected to cry today. I really did. I just thought it would be for different reasons. And I thought it would be once and then I’d be done. I was wrong. Very wrong.

It’s Thanksgiving Day, I’m thousands of miles away from my family or anyone I’ve ever considered family, and I couldn’t follow the traditions that I’ve had since the first Thanksgiving I remember. Football? No watching. No playing. Zilch. I’m good with that. I can deal with that. Apparently, they ended up being pretty lousy games to watch anyway. Solid. Datenut bread? Can’t make it here. Don’t have the stuff. (This is a recipe handed down for generations in my mom’s family that she taught me how to make. She made it every Thanksgiving and Christmas until she died, then I took over each year). Switching into pajamas after dinner? Nope. Shoot, half our people didn’t even want a pause between the two (I continue to be appalled by that idea) and I had to set up for a few other things.

If I’m listing off all this sad stuff that didn’t make me cry, you’d figure I only cried for happy things, right? Well, you’d be wrong. Don’t get me wrong; this day brings to mind so many blessings, both seen and unseen, that I’m brought to tears with overwhelming gratitude for the Jehova Jireh. The Almighty Father truly blesses me every single day, starting with the fact that I, an unworthy sinner, have been plucked from the clutches of death and made righteous in His sight, purified by the propitiation of Christ on the cross. The sacrifice of the Spotless Lamb truly does bring unbridled joy to my heart. However, what broke me today…over and over…over and over again, was another blessing. A blessing broke me? Yes. Let me explain.

Today, God blessed me with ears to hear and eyes to see. Today, God revealed the brokenness of my generation. He revealed the pain it causes Him each time a misguided soul, Christian or not, Catholic or Protestant, young or old, male or female, takes Him and His grace for granted. He revealed how much it pains Him to see each of us turns our back on Him whenever we decide that we can sin and make it up later. He revealed how much it breaks His heart when we are free to roam, free to blaspheme, free to indulge simply because “He’ll forgive me later.”

I’m not sure where Christ laid that out as the way to live. Wait, yes I am. Nowhere. That’s not the Biblical life-model. You know why? Because it stinks. You know why Christ modeled a life and Paul and the other Apostles carefully-sculpted the image of a life lived rightly? Because it brings righteousness. Not self-righteousness. Righteousness.

Do we even know what that is anymore? Honestly, most people don’t even try to figure out what it is. They just figure they’re covered because they mumbled some prayer after some guy who yelled at them about some other guy who did stuff so they’d be cool with some other guy who has a lot of weird names.

Salvation is worked out. Work it out. Work by the sweat of our brow is Biblically-prescribed

How does this strike you?
17To Adam he said, “Because you listened to your wife and ate from the tree about which I commanded you, ‘You must not eat of it,’
“Cursed is the ground because of you;
through painful toil you will eat of it
all the days of your life.
18It will produce thorns and thistles for you,
and you will eat the plants of the field.
19By the sweat of your brow
you will eat your food
until you return to the ground,
since from it you were taken;
for dust you are
and to dust you will return.”    Genesis 3:17-19

Yeah, sounds fun, huh? As soon as Satan entered our lives, so did hard work. Work existed before we had sin (Gen. 2 speaks of working in the Garden of Eden), but God makes a clear difference between the work we originally did in the Garden and the work we are now ascribed today. Because we allowed hurdles into our lives (Seriously Adam, you had to go and fail at being a real man? Thanks dude. Thanks a lot.), we now have the added burden of hard work.  According to Philippians 2:12 (So then, my beloved, just as you have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your salvation with fear and trembling;) we get to work out our salvation as well. What does that mean? As I read it, I’m pointed back to my original point: salvation is not an event. Rather, it is a process.

This process entails much. Constant failures, learning, stretching, denying one’s flesh (rather, slaying one’s flesh and replacing those desires with the Holy Spirit’s guidance and the will of God), and yes, repentance. What does repentance mean, though? Does it mean remorse? That’s not the Biblical model, so no. Does it mean empty words said to anyone who will listen (perhaps someone who is not an appropriate confidante for such sensitive information)? No, we know that’s not it either. Let’s take a peek at what our actual authority has to say about repentance.

2 Corinthians 7:10- Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death.

Pretty clear, right? This shows repentance is an understand of having done wrong, but in a Godly manner. Let’s keep going, on to one of my favorite books in the whole Bible.

Hebrews 6:4- For it is impossible to keep on restoring to repentance time and again people who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, who have become partners with the Holy Spirit

Okay, that’s pretty heavy stuff, right? Repeated restoration to repentance is impossible for those who have received the Holy Spirit? If someone corrected you with this scripture without referencing it, what’s the likelihood you would even believe that it’s sound logic? I would ask if you would be likely to even think that it’s Biblical, but I don’t want to imply that anyone reading this might, you know, not accept Biblical correction from others. Okay, back to the point. The vast majority of us would usually read this, try to swallow the rapidly-drying and rapidly-growing lump suddenly stuck in their throat, and say “okay, but how does that make sense? Why?” Let’s find out.

Hebrews 6:5-6 – ⁵and have tasted the goodness of the word of God and the powers of the age to come, ⁶and then have fallen away, to restore them again to repentance, since they are crucifying once again the Son of God to their own harm and holding him up to contempt.

Now hold on just a gosh darn moment! Are you saying that God, in His infinite wisdom, knew that we would question His why and how, and then decided to (pause for a moment here, it’s a big deal) answer us in the very next verse? Who knew? Who knew we served a God who answers our questions and makes clear His desires and His commands? Did you know this? Why didn’t I know this? How many of you knew this and didn’t tell me? (Okay, so that last one is a whole separate post and probably will be the subject of many a sermon in my lifetime, so I’ll leave it alone for the moment.) Back to the passage. “And the powers of the age to come” is an entirely different doctrinal issue, so I’ll let it alone for the moment. The real meat I’m getting at here is the bit about repeated repentance being equal to repeatedly crucifying the Son of God, as well as “holding him up to contempt.”

Let’s take a peek at the word “contempt.” Dictionary.com describes it thus: “the feeling with which a person regards anything considered mean, vile, or worthless; disdain; scorn.” I’d like to settle on the word “worthless.” The Bible, in Hebrews 6 just said that when we repeatedly subject ourselves to sin, falling away from God, then respond to repentance over and over, that we are treating Christ as worthless. That just doesn’t sound good. I think I’ll try to pass. Oh wait, I don’t have to. It’s impossible.

This would probably be a good time to extend an olive branch called grace. If not to extend it, I’ll at least attempt to explain God’s view on grace. This passage (and the great majority of this post) concerns intentional, habitual, repetitive sin. (The kind of sin where you usually don’t notice it because you’ve grown numb to even remembering that it is a sin. The other option, and the one that makes more sense for this passage, is that they are the sins that afterward we recognize, and maybe even feel sorry for, but that we do nothing to reconcile. When we apologize to God, that does nothing, as the true definition of repentance is not found in remorse. More on that later.) It does not necessarily address incidental, non-habitual sins. (The kind of sins where afterward the reaction is “God, I hate that. Don’t let me do that again. Please forgive me Lord. That’s not my heart and I don’t ever want to do that. Ever.” You know, the sins that aren’t regularly in your life, so you recognize them and actually, well, repent.) God’s grace, accomplished through the sacrifice of His Son, Jesus Christ, covers this last type of sin, because we actually attempt to stay covered under this grace when we repent.

Imagine Jesus is walking next to you. It’s pouring down rain. Jesus has this super-awesome umbrella. When we’re walking with Him, we’re dry. No sweat (pun intended). No worries, right? Super. What happens if we take a rabbit trail? What happens if we suddenly start chasing after someone else or hanging out and walking with them? We become soaking, sopping, miserably wet, of course. To that end, we are living in sin. Absolutely covered in it. Repeated offenses will lead to consistent cold, clammy, angry wetness, which eventually leads to a miserable life, and probably to sickness. Here’s where repentance comes in. Repentance is a reversal of course. Does that mean instant dryness and a peachy-keen life? Of course not. Why not? Because while Jesus kept heading towards the Father because He is always focused on the goal, which is Heaven of course, (yes, He is always chasing after us, so the analogy breaks down) we were headed in the opposite direction. We have to include the economic law of loss here. Every block we were heading in the opposite direction of Jesus, we were actually moving two blocks away from him. Of course, the Lord works differently in each person’s life, but the principle applies. If we’re heading away from Christ for, say, three blocks, we are in effect six blocks away from Him when we have our moment of repentance. Let’s assume that it’s genuine repentance, so we turn and run to him. He’s still moving, so we’ll say we’re moving at twice the pace. We start six blocks away. He moves one block, we move two. Five blocks away. He moves one, we move two. Four blocks away. You get the point. Six blocks’ time for him, and twelve for us. Don’t forget the three other blocks away we were. We spent 15 blocks away from Him for three blocks’ worth of following the other trail. Now we’re back under the umbrella and nice and safe and cozy and dry, right?

Wrong. Here’s the hardest part of repentance. It takes time to dry off after you get under that umbrella. It takes time to heal. (We know that God does miracles today. I have seen it. I have experienced it. He delights in deliverance. However, more often God works through victory and processes of obedience.) Don’t forget all the distractions trying to draw you back into the tempest at every corner, every store window, and all the stumbling blocks trying to trip you up along the way. Just because you repent and run back to Christ doesn’t mean the enemy won’t try to mess with you. Getting dry is one incredible challenge. Staying dry is an entirely different animal.

Speaking of rabbit trails, I seem to have gotten myself lost on one here. I started writing this about the tears I shed today for my generation and ended up preaching for 2000+ words. Shweet.

What I intended to write about all sparked from a conversation this morning after I was asked for my opinion on tattoos. I’d gotten halfway through the sentence where I usually set up my opinion about there being a difference between pre-marriage and post-marriage tattoos when I was cut off and informed that “It doesn’t matter if it’s going to be someone else’s body someday. God will give you someone who will like it or someone who will forgive you for it. We all have pasts, you know?” I was appalled. I was completely at a loss for how someone could disrespect their future spouse in such a way. I still haven’t said anything. Not for fear, but because I know this person well enough at this point to realize that it is something God will teach in His perfect timing, because this person is growing in relationship with God and constantly pushing closer and closer. Soon enough, God will bless this person with the wisdom and prudence necessary to understand the statement uttered.

We all have pasts, yes. God forgives them when we humble ourselves and take refuge under his umbrella of grace. However, we all have futures, as well. We all have futures that we need to keep in mind, that we need to guard, just as we guard our hearts. What respect for the holy covenant of marriage do we hold if we maintain an “I can do that, my future spouse will forgive me for it or God will give me someone who isn’t bothered by it,” outlook? Even more importantly, what respect do we have for Christ if we maintain that attitude towards the holy covenant of faith in the Son of God? I think we pretty clearly covered that earlier in this post, didn’t we?

This is what God showed me today. This is what brought me to tears and indecipherable babble multiple times throughout the day. The enemy has strongholds in each of us, and the stronghold he holds in this young person is clearly one of deception as to the importance of the future, the covenants involved, the eternal consequences of every action, and you know what? It will be torn down. It will be abolished. It will be sanctified by holy fire in the name of Jesus Christ. There will be restoration. There will be healing. There will be Truth. Truth the person, the man, the god, the savior, the messiah. Truth will prevail as He always does and always will.

Hey, whaddya know? I’m crying again. It’s a different cry this time. It’s the cry of victory. A victory not yet felt, but one surely coming. Amen.

My Whole Heart

// September 21st, 2009 // No Comments » // Perspectives, Reflection, Strongholds

God’s been stretching me a lot lately. One of the major areas is to trust in Him for everything.

We often talk about being made strong in our weaknesses by giving God the opportunity to work through us, but what about becoming stronger in our strengths? So frequently, we pridefully believe that we can do something without God’s blessing or assistance because it falls into one of our so-called strengths. I want to challenge that pride. To arrogantly proceed without seeking God is sin, and we do so every day.

When I came to Mexico, I considered verbal communication to be my biggest strength and gifting (both on a preaching and a relational level). While I have the opportunity to speak in English with my team members and to build them up and encourage them, I can rarely communicate while doing ministry. This is an area of growth for me, as I’m learning that even my biggest strength can be as nothing to simply showing God’s love. Honestly, I can’t even hold a full conversation with an eight year old kid, so I’m learning to allow God to work through me more freely.

The thought I really am trying to convey here is that God deserves your whole heart, rather than just the parts you think you can’t manage on your own. Give up your weaknesses, give up your strengths, watch Him create something wholly new. It’ll blow your socks off.