Love Like A Gangster

I grew up in suburban America, and the gang culture I encountered upon our arrival in El Salvador was shocking to say the least. El Salvador is notorious for its criminal gang culture. The gangs are brutal and show little mercy. They threaten slum communities, extort shop owners, and keep school attendance low because kids are afraid of getting recruited at school. Rival gangs kill each other driving the homicide rates up throughout the country. 

Most people in El Salvador come into contact with gang members, and the influence that they hold over the society, each and every day. We have some gangsters involved in our ministry, and most of those we serve live in communities controlled by gang members. Many of the women I work with personally are fearful of the gangs, and live at their mercy. 

I was speaking to these women last week at our Valentine's Day party and we were talking about true love and what it looks like in our daily lives. As part of our discussion, I asked the women to tell me the best example of love they have ever seen. I expected them to share the love they have for their children, or perhaps the love between and man and a woman. Instead, one of them made a very different observation. 

"The best example of love I have seen is the love that gang members have for each other."

Heads nodded in agreement around the room, and several women went on to explain that gangsters respected each other, served without question or complaint, and were willing to die to defend the honor of a fellow gang member. They were closer than brothers, and constantly looked our for each other. Despite the violence, aggression, and cruelty, these gangsters knew something about true, sacrificial love. 

For the rest of the day I replayed the conversation over and over in my head. I felt a stab of guilt as I realized these women were seeing love between gang members clearly and undeniably. Did they see love from me? From our ministry team? What about from missionaries and churches here in El Salvador? Tension and back-stabbing are often the norm as ministries compete and tempers flare. What kind of love are we showing? Can we even come close to this gangster level of love? 

What about in my daily life? When people see me, do they see love? Or do they see someone in a hurry, aggravated with the heat and culture? Do they see someone willing to sacrifice, or do they see someone losing patience with her children? What about those marital disagreements that balloon into bigger problems and a shortness of grace? 

Am I radiating honor, respect, and sacrificial love to those around me? 

The truth is that I am falling short in this area. It is easy to focus on what I have had to sacrifice for others, instead of on what has been sacrificed for me. Jesus has a love that rises above what any gang members could ever show. He laid down His life for not only His closest friends, but also His enemies. He laid down His life for me, so how can I not pass that kind of true love along? 

I don't have a death threat hanging over my head if I decide to turn my back on those I love, but I do have the promise and hope of life compelling me to love each and every day. I know I have much to learn and far to go, but I'm praying that God can give me a true and unrelenting love…a love that sticks closer than a gangster. 

I would love to hear about your experiences…what examples of love are evident in your culture? Have they helped you to see your own calling in a unique way? 

Advent

Several thousand years ago, Jesus arrived on a chaotic scene. He was born into a land with political strife, and He was born into an oppressed people. They lived in a state of longing, waiting, and hoping for more.  God’s people couldn’t understand why God wasn’t speaking, or where He was. He had been silent and here they were beaten down, struggling, and confused.

Into the chaos, Jesus silently arrived. Humbly, quietly, where He was least expected and where He was least hoped for. Into the space of a dark night in a dirty corner came the great Deliverer.

I can find myself in that chaotic place…right now I am in one of those seasons. Dear missionary friends are hurting, a women in our ministry is in crisis, and bad news seems to be in our local paper every day. Add some homesickness and the stress of the holidays and it is easy to feel broken down. Sometimes I feel like I'm doing it all on my own and I wonder why God doesn’t say what I want to hear.

But there is also an unseen longing and hoping that cannot be shaken. It can’t be shaken because Jesus steps in where He is least hoped for, and sometimes least wanted. The Deliverer arrives in our pain, our confusion, and our exhaustion. He arrives in such a way that we often don’t see Him coming. But He is there.

Jesus comes into that place with a promise, and with a reason to hope. Advent means coming and this season of light and yearning brings a glimpse of something more. The heavens opened and poured out on that silent night so long ago, so that every silent night to come would not be the end. The chaos will not win, and the darkness cannot hold us.

There is always hope. Sometimes it is silent, but it remains. There is always a chance that we will see more happen in our lives. There is joy in the sorrow and peace in the unknown because He has come, and He is coming again.

Killed By Comparison

Has anyone else ever played the "one-up" game? You know, the game where you suffer more, have more parasites, speak the language better, feed more orphans, build a bigger church, etc. Maybe you haven't played it, but you've seen in played out online, at conferences, or at church. 

Back in the olden days of missions, this thing called the internet didn't exist. People were forced to rely on very unreliable mail systems in the countries where they served, and international phone calls were expensive ordeals. Today we live in the golden age of communication…the tools of the missionary trade include email, blogs, Skype, FaceTime, Twitter, Pinterest, Facebook, and all kinds of international phone and texting services.

It seems like every other missionary is posting status updates and tweets throughout the week, plus sending out cleverly crafted e-updates with professional photos. I haven’t even mentioned trying to keep up with the ministry blog to maintain a perfect balance of words of inspiration, and requests for more funding please! Apparently to do missions today we need a degree in communications and tons of computer tech experience just to feel like we are keeping up a basic level of communication.

Then there is the pressure to network…to retweet other missionary’s tweets to show we are on board, to attend networking meetings, or local missionary retreats. The reality is that the pressure is there and it is absolutely exhausting.

By the end of the day, we are burned out thinking about everything we didn’t get done. A click of the mouse confirms our worst fears…everyone else is doing way better.

The comparison monster seems to lurk in the corners of churches and missionary field offices just waiting to rear its ugly head. The internet offers it the prime opportunity to sink its teeth into an unsuspecting victim. I’ve seen it happen…one missionary posts a picture of their new church, and another posts a picture of their outreach event. Someone ministering to the poor celebrates the number of meals distributed to a hungry community, and another posts a higher number. Yet another missionary talks of how much they are suffering, and someone else comments with “at least you aren’t dealing with what we are dealing with.”

Why do we do this? Why do we “one-up,” compare, cut down (even if it’s just in our minds), and feel threatened by other missionaries? Why do we hesitate to share ideas because someone might “steal” them? Why do we judge how another missions organization in our region is serving? Or not serving? Why do we let resentment and pride shape how we view our work and the work of others?

In short, why are we letting comparison kill us?

The reasons are many, and they all have to do with our own need for God. We have insecurities, personal failures, and weaknesses. We squirm when they are brought to the surface. Instead of acknowledging that maybe someone else does have something valuable to contribute, it’s easier to cut them down to make us feel better. It’s sick, and it hurts the growth of God’s Kingdom.

So how can we stop doing it? When we have so much at stake ourselves, how can we keep the comparison monster from eating us alive?

The answer is simple, yet sometimes is just so hard. Hebrews 12:2 encourages us to “fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith.” Maybe it’s time to take our eyes off of our newsfeed and focus them on Jesus. Maybe we need to look deep in our hearts and ask where we are finding worth…in how many shares our blog post gets? In how awesome our graphics are? Are we finding it in how well we speak the language, or how well our kids have adapted? These things clamor for our attention, but only Jesus deserves our worship, and when we take our eyes off of Him, we can fall victim to comparison. 

Anyone else relate to this? Maybe I’m not the only one who wants to give up when I see a beautifully crafted blog post by a mom who speaks in a perfect accent, can seamlessly recreate every recipe missed by her family, and still has time to maintain a dynamic ministry. Maybe I am not the only one who needs to worry a little bit less about what everyone else is doing, and focus a little bit more on being faithful to what Jesus is calling me to do today.

What about you? Have you seen comparison killing your ministry or the ministry of someone else? How can we stop the comparison monster from stealing our joy and the joy of those around us?

Answering The Tough Questions

"Mommy, what's a safehouse?"

My 9 year old daughter had just overheard a phone conversation regarding a safehouse where we minister to underage victims of sex-trafficking. I froze. How was I supposed to explain this one?

"Why did Herber die?"

Rewind to a few months ago when one of the young men in our street ministry died from years of alcohol abuse on the streets. We've known him since he was a teenager and the kids had seen him for years. There was just no way to talk this one away.

A week before the safehouse conversation I was driving my daughter to her violin lesson when I suddenly saw a dead body laying up ahead of us on the street. A man had been struck by a bus and his body was sprawled across the busy street as traffic crawled slowly by. I quickly told my daughter to duck her head and look away. She obeyed and thankfully was spared the scary sight of seeing the dead man. Later that day she asked me, "Mommy, what happened? I thought a gang member was nearby with a gun. Was he going to shoot us?" I told her carefully that someone had been hit by a bus, and that we were not in any danger.

All of these conversations brought a familiar guilt rising to the surface. Her tough questions made me ask a tough one of myself.

"Am I traumatizing my children?"

I find myself questioning this from time to time. Are we denying our children a trauma-free childhood? By taking them out of suburbia and raising them in Central America am I scarring them for life? Do they live in fear? Am I instilling that in them?

I struggle with this even five years into our adventure. A year and a half ago my purse was stolen right from the back of my chair while my kids and I were chatting with friends in a local coffee shop. My children were shaken by the experience wondering if it would be just as easy for them to be stolen from me. That night they huddled next to me in bed crying and shaking...convinced someone was coming for them.

Choosing life outside of our home countries can be a risky venture. I have meet expats who live in fear of being robbed, raped, or murdered. In foreign countries how can we help our children to understand the risks, but not be ruled by them?

Remember that life is not risk free. It's easy to fantasize about a life back "home" free from risks and pain. Life just is not like that and there is no guarantee that we won't be robbed or hurt in some way on home soil.

Find security in our obedience. When we are where God is calling us to be we can trust His provision, and His protection whatever may come. It is important for us to communicate this truth to our children consistently and confidently. If we show an example of fearfulness, they too will be fearful.

Focus on the positives. It's easy to get caught up in the "doom and gloom" of statistics and news stories. In fact, we can focus on this negative press so much that we forget about all of the wonderful joys to be found in learning a new language, discovering a new culture, and embracing all of the beautiful things in our host countries.

Use the tough things to remind our children of God's purpose for our family. It will never be easy to explain to my daughter that some girls need to live in special homes to keep them safe, or that violence exists, or that sometimes people die on the streets. As she grows up, I will share more and more about these things but for now it is enough to simply tell her that pain exists. Sin and suffering have tainted our world, but God is still at work. The amazing thing is that we get to be a part of it, and God has called our family to those who are hurting and that is a special thing.

Pray together. This is the most important and simple way to deal with these tough questions. As moms, we pray for wisdom to explain these things to our kids. When our children feel fear and uncertainty, we can go to our knees together to ask God to protect our family and to protect those we serve. We start and end each day in prayer, and my children have come to ask for it when they are feeling anxious.

It is not always easy to help our children fight down fear and worry, and honestly those are hard things for us to fight ourselves. Those conversations are tough, but our God is big enough for them and it's amazing to see how readily children embrace the part that they can play in serving the world around them. Watching their hearts open in love to the children that are suffering, and to the people without families is a beautiful thing to witness.

I have a few things to learn from my son and daughter as they trust their parents to care for them as they are serving, and to have simple faith that God is looking out for them. Just maybe I can learn to trust Him too, even as I ask Him the tough questions. I can trust that He is keeping us safe and using even the trauma and hard times to make us into who He wants us to be.

The Education Question

Where are the kids going to go to school?

When we first contemplated moving overseas to do mission work, this was one of the big questions that kept me up at night. Everyone seemed to be asking it...our parents, friends, and our donors. Where were we going to send the kids to school? Public schools were too dangerous, private schools too expensive, and homeschooling is illegal where we live. I  spent a lot of time researching and trying to decide what we were going to do. The kids were young at the time, but with our daughter soon approaching Kindergarten age it was a question that needed to be answered.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago, when we sent our children off to 2nd and 5th grades at a bi-lingual international school here in the city where we live. To them, school in two languages with kids from all over the world is totally normal. Eating lunch outside every day and wearing uniforms are standard. In fact an American classroom would probably seem very strange.

It hasn't been easy, and I have had my fair share of headaches dealing with the educational system here including many struggles for one of my children who has special needs regarding education. Thank God we have made it through and as we start our fifth year of school, I can say confidently that our kids are getting a good education.

But how did we get to this point? If you are planning to move overseas anytime soon, you are probably wrestling with this question. What are the pros and cons? Can we afford it? Where will our children feel most comfortable? In this post, I am going to lay out a few options for education with some pros and cons for each. I would love to hear feedback about everyone else's experiences too!

National Public School is an option for many families and a great way to immerse your child into the local language and culture. It may be free in some countries too, which is always a plus! It can be a great way to make connections with neighbors and national families, but it could potentially be dangerous for your child or cause them to have weakened English language skills.

National Private Schools are also an option similar to the one listed above and they may have a stronger academic program and even include English if it is a bi-lingual school. If you want your child to attend a Christian school, this could be a great option for you as well, and the costs may be much more affordable than an international school. A local private school may or may not be accredited in the United States or Europe.

International Schools offer a bi-lingual education and are usually accredited in the United States and Europe. They also have more of an international community so your child may feel like they “blend in” with everyone else who doesn’t blend into your host country. These schools can be quite expensive, and also can have a very mobile student body meaning that your child will be saying hello and good-bye to new friends quite often.

Boarding School is another option that seems to be less common in recent years. These schools require spending a lot of time apart from your child starting at a young age, but if there are no other local educational options this type of education could give your child the academic tools they need to go on to a university. A boarding school also may be designed specifically with the needs of missionary kids in mind, and offer a family atmosphere for them.

Homeschooling is another option that works well for many missionary families, and gives them great flexibility for working around ministry events and home assignments. It also offers the child the bonus of spending a lot of time with parents throughout the school day. This option may be difficult for families who live in a country where homeschooling is illegal. Another potential setback could be the homeschooling parent(s) and children do not have as much exposure to learning a new language.

One thing that I have learned is to not be afraid to advocate for my child, and to approach school administration in kindness to see what I can do to help offer more resources at the school. It also doesn't hurt to ask local schools if they offer any kind of discount. We learned that an international school in our city gave a discounts to families that worked as missionaries or with non-profit organizations. This information allowed us to pursue this school for our children. In addition, I joined the Parent Committee and do as much as I can to be present at my children's school throughout the day so that I can have a hands-on understanding of what they are learning and any struggles they may be going through. 

We have all had different experiences as moms trying to balance ministry, and giving our children a solid education...whatever that looks like. Sometimes it can seem impossible, but I just want to encourage you that God cares even about where our kids go to school. This year, as I sent my children off to a new year, God spoke quietly to me reminding me that when He called us here, He knew just what our children would need to learn and grow. 

I want to hear from everyone else! What educational options do you have in your current situation? If you are considering a move what questions do you have for those of us who have school age kids on the mission field? We would love to hear some feedback about your experiences! 

Notebooks in every color covered in plastic is standard for El Salvador...any strange "back to school" requirements where you live???

Just Barely

I remember starting our journey on the mission field and feeling like I was taking my first steps onto a big, tall mountain. The adventure was thrilling and the climb surely seemed possible. God felt so close, like He was breathing there right beside me. So many days He still does, and the adventure is still thrilling.

But sometimes the climbing is rough, and we reach places that we just can’t pass. Things like the death of a parent, a cancer diagnosis, or a tragic accident. They knock the breath out of us and bring us to our knees.

Or maybe the slow deaths are the ones that leave us gasping for breath along the trail. The personality conflicts and unmet expectations, the children that don’t fit in, the ministry burnout and the endless language learning.

The weight of the ministry pushes down hard like two hands pressing on our back. Somehow our training didn’t prepare us for how our hearts would break for these people and for this place.

The mountain climb no longer seems possible.

A few weeks ago our family went hiking on the Santa Ana volcano here in El Salvador. Our children were giddy as we started the climb through cool woods. They raced up and down around us on the trail running and playing. They laughed and shouted and it was such an adventure.

The path began to wind in and out and around trees and rocks. Our son stumbled, surprised onto the path. His knees were dirty and he got up but he was no longer running and giddy.

We walked up and up and the sun beat down hard and hot through the trees. Dust swirled around our feet and the stones got bigger. Back and forth and up and down and we began to sweat. Our footsteps were light in the cool of the trees, but much heavier out in the sun.

My husband led us higher and higher on the mountain. Soon lava rocks and boulders made it hard to see what was just ahead. We had to be cautious, watch our step and shade our eyes from the sun. Our son fell behind.

“Daddy? Daddy!” A small voice echoed through the trees and rocks. “Daddy? Where are you? I think I hear you, but I can’t see you!”

The answer came, “Hey buddy, I’m right here. Stay on the path and follow my voice. Can you hear me?”

“Yes Daddy, just barely. “ My brave boy soldiered on and what started as fear, soon became a game. Around each bend he would call out again, “Daddy? Daddy? Where are you?”

“Here I am, keep climbing…can you hear me?”

“Yes Daddy, just barely.”

On and on it went up the mountain over the rocks and through the dust. My boy kept climbing following his daddy’s voice, even though he could barely hear it. But as long as he heard his dad, he knew his way.

But soon a barely-there voice just wasn’t enough. My son grew tired, he tripped and fell. But this time he didn’t want to get up, the trail was hard. The sun was hot, and the dust was thick.

So his Daddy stopped and picked him up and held his hand and together they climbed the hardest parts. The parts that were stony ashes left years ago by a volcanic explosion. The parts that were last steps through a barren wasteland where nothing grew, and sulfur still swirled. The ashes made the rocks treacherous but my son was renewed and yearned more and more for the summit.

Together they reached it, and it was worth the struggle and uncertainty along the way. They saw a turquoise lake and green fields. Distant mountains and blue skies opened up before them. It was beautiful.

So many days I feel just like my son. I am on a trail that twists and winds and sometimes it is cool and lovely, and sometimes it feels like I am just lost and dusty. I call out in a feeble voice.

“Father…Father, where are you?”

It’s almost like I hear His voice, like it’s barely there. It is just loud enough to keep my foot on the path, and to show me the way. But I trip and fall, and barely miss crevices and drop-offs.

There are moments that I reach the wastelands of my journey. It is dark and gray and tears choke out the joy and I am scrambling just to gain my footing, just to take a step. The top of that mountain looks so far away.

But God is there too and He grabs my hand and He reminds me that the wasteland is not forever. This scrambling, this striving, this loss is not forever. There is something coming. There is something to hope for, and it is a world with no teenagers forced into prostitution, no addictions, no cruelty, no stillborn babies, no devastating disease, no children abused, no poverty, no war, no broken hearts, and no more death.

One day the struggle will be worth it, and the only thing that will matter is that I followed His voice and took His hand. We will climb together, my Father and I, and He will show me the world above the wasteland where all is new, and all is whole, and it will be beautiful.

That day is coming and I hope and yearn for that summit. But for today there is work to be done, so I will stay the course and follow His voice even when I can just barely hear it. 

What about you? What makes the "climb" hard? What has brought encouragement to you?