Out of the Ashes

So it seems I write when my heart is grieved, heavy, or troubled. It’s not often I write when life is at it’s joyous heights. As I look back over the blogs of the last few months, most share the “nails of   life”. The hardships either I or those I care about are facing. And isn’t it true? It is in suffering that we grow and learn and find more of Jesus. It is the molding mechanism through which I see Christ more and am shaped into His likeness. The last 3 months have contained the grief of the loss of our little one from our own miscarriage in July; the angst of a family in the midst of divorce and ugly lies; the grief of sweet friends in the loss of their unborn baby lost at 5 months; and the restlessness of my spirit as I was confined to bed-rest with complications in our new pregnancy. Bittersweet was the taste I felt each day, grateful I was breathing and my baby was still alive each day. Bitter at the events and circumstances around me. In a profound moment a few wee

Some days my heart aches. I just don’t understand. I can’t rap my brain around the mentality of people here or some of the choices they choose to make.  Let me be fair in saying, it’s not India or Indians.  People all over the world make stupid, selfish, and ugly decisions every day. There are currently two little girls (maybe 3 and 5 years old) within the guardianship of 2 of our students. Their father died and their mother doesn’t want them. No one in the family wants them.   The mom left the country and just left them with the grandfather with hopes he would find a place for them. They showed up in our city expecting the boys orphanage associated with out work to take them in and find a place. The grandfather left them there knowing the boys home couldn’t take girls and knowing the leaders had no idea where to place them.   He just left. The record repeats in my head, “How could any mother do this?   How could any grandfather do this?   How is there not one person in t

(Pooja tikka mark) Many westerners have asked me what the Bhindi or red “tikka” mark means or why I am willing to wear it as a Chri$tian. Many people associate this mark with H!nduism. In my contextualization classes we were taught about finding the difference between culture and religion. The scripture is clear that we don’t want to do anything to compromise our Chri$tian faith and values. At the same time the go$pel is full of the liberties that Chri$t brought to us through the cross. We are no longer obligated to religious practices and rituals. Chri$t fulfilled the law. As we work with non-believers we don’t want to make Chri$tianity another religion. We don’t want to make following Chri$t more difficult than it has to be. Following Je$us doesn’t have to mean abandoning culture, it just has to mean abandoning any other faith or practices of that faith. As teachers, we have to help our disciples find this difference as they come to follow the Father more and more. We don

This month my husband and I miscarried a baby. I had heard women talk of their loss and sorrow before, but I never could understand their pain and the physical hardship until this “storm” swept over me. It was like I was undone. I could barely get out of bed, speak, or function at times. The tears and weeping seemed endless. I knew these things take time, and I knew God was good and faithful. My heart had peace and yet the tears still flowed unceasingly. I remember laying in bed one day and thinking I feel like someone died.   Someone did die, and though I never met them, I felt ever so connected to them as I grieved their loss of life. It’s a strange and surreal feeling. It’s hard to explain and put into words. At times I felt my body itself was grieving even more than my mind. Like my body knew it has lost something so real, and yet never seen. I was reminded of Job’s words, “Shall we not accept both the good and the bad from G0d?” For weeks before the miscarriage happe

I sat with a friend who has become like a sister this week. Slowly over the coarse of the last 3 years she is opening up about her religious background, family, and more. She believes in G0d, but I am not sure she has a walking and talking relationship with G0d. Yesterday, she opened up about the effects of her Father’s suicide and alcohol abuse in their family line. We talked about the damage it had done to her soul and mind. Her father had told her she was not wanted, and if she stayed in the home, he will kill himself.  Shortly after, he did kill himself, and of course my friend felt to blame. He spoke things over her no person should ever hear. Her story was pieces and shambles of despair, brokenness and heartache.  There was no joy, no life in her story. She felt that if her own father couldn’t love her how could anyone else. As she shared I prayed to the H0ly $pirit for direction and words. I asked if we could give over the past to the L0rd together in prayer, and ask Him a