Elisabeth introduced me to him in her books. When I would tell my friends that I planned to marry Jim Elliot, they would roll their eyes and remind me that he was not only 50 years older than me and already married, but he was, um, dead. But I was not dissuaded. The bar had been set.
I still put Shadow of the Almighty in the top 5 most influential books I’ve ever read. My life changed as I read Jim’s story–a young man who was my age and yet totally and completely sold out for God in a way I had never seen or experienced.
Elisabeth didn’t put much of herself into her books about Jim, so I didn’t start getting to know her until I ventured out into her other books. If I was in love with Jim, then soon after, I wanted to be Elisabeth.
We are given the present within which to choose whom we will serve, knowing that this moment affects the next and we are accountable for it.
Elisabeth was no-nonsense. Blunt. Witty. Very smart. Tough, but gloried in being a woman. She showed me what it meant to obey Christ. She wasn’t into emotionalism or feeling sorry for herself. Her mantra was Trust and Obey. Period. Yet she knew suffering: She waited five years to marry the man she loved, and then three years later, lost him to Indian spears. She was a widow and single mom for 10 more years, during which she went back to the remote Indian tribe that murdered her husband. Her second husband died of cancer after four years of marriage. I think she earned the right to talk about suffering.
Joy comes not in spite of, but because of, sorrow.
Her faith was unwavering. Her joy was infectious. She still is the most inspiring person I’ve ever known. She is such a part of who I am that I have to remind myself I never met her in person.
When I met Gil in 1998, not only was he full of passion and vision for the world, but he was a huge Elisabeth Elliot fan too. That was the clincher for me. I had found my Jim Elliot.
Elisabeth died yesterday, June 15, 2015, a good and faithful servant. May her death remind another generation of young people they need to be inspired by Elisabeth and her Jim.
It is nothing short of a transformed vision of reality that is able to see Christ as more real than the storm, love more real than hatred, meekness more real than pride, long-suffering more real than annoyance, holiness more real than sin.
I started this blog in January of 2007….eight and a half years ago. Grace had only been home for two months, and my first post was about how my name in Tanzania had changed to “Mama Grace” once I became a Mom. It’s still a name I relish.
This blog was named after her, back when Grace was actually little. But also because Grace is my favorite word in the English language, and everyone really does need a little grace in their lives. Or a lot, actually.
For a number of years, I mostly chronicled our lives in this space. Over time, I got more reflective. I have always loved writing, as demonstrated by the dozens of journals I kept through my childhood. My favorite class in college was Advanced Composition. But still, my readers were primarily family and friends who knew me.
Then, two and a half years ago, one of my former education professors from The Master’s College, Dr. Adams, submitted this post to Tim Challies, a popular Christian blogger. He linked to it, and for the first time, I was getting thousands of hits instead of dozens. Since then, he’s linked to my posts lots of times, bringing me many more regular readers.
It’s been intimidating to realize that there’s people out there who don’t know me, but want to read what I write. Writing publicly like this feels a little like those dreams where you look down and realize you are naked. And I often post with fear and trembling, knowing that the internet is not always very friendly to its writers.
I realize my blog is still a very tiny fish in a gigantic sea, and I am content with that. But I just want to thank you today, for reading and commenting and sharing what I write. I am truly honored and humbled. Your encouragement has spurred me on think more deeply and write more carefully. I am so thankful for you!
I love writing, but I hate technology. I don’t get web design at all. A couple months ago, it took me about three hours to get the Facebook box linked to my blog. When I finally figured it out, I realized it should have taken me five minutes. Yep. Dumb. So I was extremely grateful when the talented Suzanne Hodson of Olive Branch Studios in San Jose agreed to design a header for me. It looks fantastic, and I feel so professional now!
So, in honor of my brand spankin’ new header, and to thank all of my faithful readers, we’re going to have another drawing!
I sent three pairs of Tanzanian salad tongs back with my Mom, and she is ready to send them off to my winners!
So….if you read this blog regularly, please comment either here or on my Facebook fan page. (When I recently linked to Google Plus, I realized that now only people with Google accounts can comment on my posts. No idea how to fix that. Like I said…Technology Dumb. But anyone should be able to comment on the fan page.)
Anyway, leave a comment that gives me an idea for a future post, or tell me how you found me, or just say, “I’m in!” My three kids will draw three names, the old fashioned, non-technological way….from a hat. The deadline is Friday, June 19th. (I will wait until all time zones have passed.)
Bloggers love knowing who their readers are, so I’ve got to do something to coax out those lurkers. But even if you don’t come out of hiding, thank you so much, to all of you!
If you follow international adoption news, you’ve heard it: Birthparents are manipulated into sending a child to an orphanage. A mother is promised money to give her sweet one up for adoption. Paperwork falsified. People who know better making way too much money off of a child’s plight.
Adoption mends. Adoption redeems. Adoption brings hope. Except when the brokenness breeds more brokenness.
What kind of a world do we live in, where men exploit a child who has already lost everything? Where people prey on other’s poverty, ignorance, hopelessness?
I read articlesthis week on Uganda’sadoption program, which seems to be the next African adoption program that will bite the dust. Like a long line of dominoes they have fallen: Rwanda, Liberia, Ghana…now Congo and Ethiopia are only hanging on by a thread….and next, Uganda joins the list. The headlines announce fraud, corruption, deceit. And meanwhile the children languish, on streets, in orphanages, two or three to a bed.
What I don’t understand is why there is a need to traffic children for adoptions. Greedy lawyers shouldn’t need to connive their way into stealing children. For goodness sake, there’s enough orphans to go around.
How do we define an orphan? That is the big question. UNICEF defines an orphan as any child who has lost at least one parent. ‘Tis true–an orphan of this definition does not necessarily need a new family. Maybe her Dad just needs a job or her Mom needs a place to live. By all means, let’s keep these families intact.
But I don’t define an orphan that way. In my definition, an orphan is any child who has no family, for any reason. Most of the time, that child’s parents are still alive. They are just not able to parent their child. Think about it: Are not all American foster children in this category? Every American baby put up for adoption? Death is not the only way to create an orphan. Yet all are the product of brokenness; all need the redemption of adoption.
Such is the same on this continent. For every horror story, for every “orphan” child who is manipulated away from her parents, there are a hundred more who are left in hospital beds, in church buildings or bars, or dumped down toilet holes. A hundred more who are the carnage left behind from war, famine, HIV. Many times, brokenness wins, and no poverty-fighting program is going to save that family. But maybe, just maybe, the child can be saved.
Yet instead of salvation, in comes the dollar signs and the prestigious positions, and the rescue operation turns into lucrative business. Meanwhile, a child still cries herself to sleep. And no mother ever comes.
I feel ripped in two. I see my children, my beautiful children, asleep in their beds–fed, kissed, content, hopeful. I want to tell you their stories, because it would help you to love adoption more, and give you the confidence that yes! adoption is a wondrous thing–but those stories are for them alone to tell. So instead you must trust me when I tell you that adoption was the only hope for my children….and that there are millions more out there just like them. I look at my children and I want to say to you, YES! Please give the chance of a family to one more orphan!
But instead, I find myself afraid. I feel privileged, with all my adoptions, that I have had the absolute confidence that I know everything there is to know about my children’s stories. Though each process cost me much blood, sweat, and tears, I am positive no one received any unjust compensation. But can I give you my assurance that you would have the same confidence if you embark on this journey? I just don’t know.
It shouldn’t be this way! I must trust in God’s justice for those who seek to exploit the least of these, because otherwise the anger will consume me.
In the midst of the stories of adoption fraud and corruption, remember this: The orphans are still there, millions of them. Ethical international adoptions are still possible if you are very, very careful. Do not allow cynicism and fear to keep you from considering this incredible journey.
There are beautiful bright spots, in places such as Forever Angels, where Lily came from. Forever Angels is not only the best-run orphanage I have seen, but it seeks, first and foremost, to reunite families. They do everything they can–donate formula, provide jobs, help with housing–whatever it takes–to keep families together.
If that doesn’t happen, then–and only then–do they look for adoptive families. Yet even with these protective measures, they have dozens of children available for adoption. Only a very few will ever get families. If you are a resident of Tanzania–especially a citizen–will you consider adoption in a new way today?
If you need a little encouragement, you need to watch this video from Forever Angels. And even if you don’t live here (and thus don’t qualify to adopt in Tanzania), watch it anyway….because I promise, it will make your day. Which is something you might need after reading this post.
Note added July 2016: Shortly after writing this post, my whole view of international adoption was turned upside down. Please read the series I wrote after months of research.
Imagine what it would look like for an American church to hire their staff with the same priorities that they chose missionaries to financially support.
First of all, a Children’s Pastor would definitely be out. Not strategic enough; he’s only supporting the children of believers. Youth Pastor? Also out, unless he targets neighborhood kids.
How about a Music Pastor? Or Pastoral Counselor? Nope. Those are just a support roles. Not enough front-line ministry.
Administrative Pastor? Receptionist? Good heavens. We could never dream of paying someone for those kind of inconsequential support roles.
How about a Preaching Pastor? Well…..that’s if-y, but he probably doesn’t make the cut either. After all, he’s only feeding the Body. Most of the time, he’s not actually reaching the lost.
So that pretty much leaves only the positions of Community Outreach Pastor or Evangelist. Yet how many American churches even have those paid positions?
I’m not suggesting that churches go about firing two-thirds of their staff. I just want to point out a bit of a double-standard.
Recently, a friend told me, Oh, I could never consider taking a position at Haven of Peace Academy. I know my church would never take me on for a support role.
And from a current teacher at HOPAC, We love what we do at HOPAC, but we feel like our supporters just want to see pictures of the street kids ministry, even though that only takes up two hours of our week.
And from another teacher when hosting a short-term team: The team gets most excited about the ministry to the poor kids. They don’t seem to understand the importance of reaching HOPAC kids.
Let me introduce you to the class system among missionaries.
Who is on the A-List? Well, that would be the Church Planters. Among unreached people groups gives you A+ status. Pastoral Trainers and Bible Translators might be able to squeak by with an A.
The B-List? Doctors and other health workers, community development, poverty alleviation, ESL workers.
The C-List? Administrators, missionary member care, MK teachers, or anyone else considered “support.”
This is definitely not our imagination, and any missionary I know will confirm it. When trying to raise support for our years at Haven of Peace Academy, we called and sent information packets to over 200 churches in California. We heard back from two. Churches told us, over and over again, Sorry, but that ministry doesn’t fit into our strategy.
When our ministry changed to Pastoral Training, we had churches calling us. It was nice. But frankly, kind of frustrating.
We didn’t switch ministries so that we would become more popular with churches. We switched because that’s where God was leading us. But the truth is, we don’t consider Pastoral Training to be any more strategic, or any more exciting, than Haven of Peace Academy.
HOPAC is training the next generation of Tanzania’s leaders in a biblical worldview. Over 50% of HOPAC’s students are Tanzanian, most from influential families.
Perhaps equally, or even more important, HOPAC is enabling missions in Tanzania. Young Life and SIL/Wycliffe have established their East African headquarters in Dar because of HOPAC! Dozens of other organizations are able to minister here as well.
Oh come on, I can hear you saying. Can’t all those families just homeschool? Yes, if they had to. A lot of missionary families don’t have another choice. But imagine trying to homeschool your kids, and simultaneously, become fluent in another language, and learn to drive, shop, cook, clean, pay bills, play, and rest in an entirely different way. Without any homeschool groups or co-ops or craft stores. Sound fun?
Look at it this way. You can either financially support a missionary mom to (possibly reluctantly) homeschool her four kids, or you can financially support a missionary teacher (who’s called to it) to teach 25. It’s not like the mom is going to sit on her hands all day. She’ll be right out there working in ministry.
I’m particularly passionate about MK education, but I could say the same things for all the other so-called “support” roles in missions. I just wrote my last three posts about the often harsh realities of life overseas. Yet when Christians stand up and say, I’m called to missionary care! I’m called to teach MK’s! I’m called to missions administration!, the churches say, Well, sorry, you don’t fit in our strategy. We’d rather get behind the exciting church planters and the pastoral trainers.Except, we expect them to do it without all the other people they need to be successful.
I sit on the board of governors at Haven of Peace Academy. At almost every meeting, we bang our heads against the wall, asking ourselves, How are we going to get enough teachers? Every year, it’s a problem. Every year, we pray and plead and try to get more creative with recruitment.
But you want to know the reality? Churches are just not as interested in supporting teachers. Heck, even missions organizations are not as interested in supporting teachers.
Listen, I’m all about strategy in missions. But can we expand our idea of what strategy means? Missionaries, as an extension of the Church, must function as the Body of Christ. Could the American Church function by only hiring evangelists? I realize that missions has different goals–we are working ourselves out of a job; we are doing everything we can to replace ourselves with national believers. But to get there, we need the Body of Christ.
We, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another. Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them. (Romans 12)
The legs can’t do anything without the arms and fingers and neck. So go out today and find your nearest missionary accountant or counselor or MK teacher. Remind them they are never second-class.
For the next school year, HOPAC is still looking for an Operations Manager, an Elementary Teacher, a P.E. teacher, a Librarian, and a Special Needs Teacher.
About a month ago, I was staring at the computer screen for 15 minutes.
Finally I looked up at Gil, frustrated. “I got nothing,” I told him.
Our monthly prayer update was way over-due. But I had been putting it off because I had no great stories, no answers to prayer, nothing that seemed worth sharing.
Finally I asked Gil, “Should I just write about our discouragement?”
He paused for a moment. “Yes.”
Could I have drummed up a great little vignette about one of our students? Probably. Those kind of stories are always there. It would have been true, but it would have felt fake. The reality is that the overwhelming picture of our ministry right now is discouragement. Things are not going as well as we had hoped. Our plan isn’t working very well. On top of that, there’s been a lot of sickness and injuries or just plain distractions that have been pulling our team down.
There’s probably a dozen reasons why it’s not going well. And we’ve got a dozen ideas to change it. We are not giving up; we’ve still got a lot of grit and oceans of grace.
But it was scary to send that email. In the past months, I have felt the weight of our donors’ disappointment bearing me down, whispering words of criticism and failure.
Surprisingly, so far it’s only been my imagination. The email I wrote broke all our records for the number of readers, and we probably received more responses from that one message than ever before. Responses of love, prayers, Scripture, and encouragement poured into our inbox. Not one word of criticism.
It makes me wish I had done it before. This isn’t the first time we’ve felt ground into the dust, even after those first two difficult years. Maybe I didn’t need to feel so scared after all.
However, I know that the anxiety is still there, and won’t ever leave completely. It is a constant battle to release it to God’s control. After all, one discouraging email is one thing….what if there are six? Or ten? Will people still support us? How long will they put up with so little fruit?
And again, there is a need for delicate balance. Even with the public lives that we lead, missionaries still are entitled to some privacy–just like anyone else. It’s one thing to be vulnerable about ministry, but are missionaries required to share with the world that they are falling apart? If I was to go back 14 years to do it over again, would I have shared with our entire email list that I needed counseling? Probably not. But I would have shared it with some. I would have looked for those people who I knew I could trust, and poured out my heart to them. I think it would have made a big difference.
So here’s my advice for the missionaries:
1. Sometimes we bemoan the fact that people treat us like superstars. We want to be seen as ordinary; we don’t want people to be intimidated by us. But what if some of that is our fault? What if we’ve ensured that people only see the successful, happy, brave side of us and never let them peek at the blubbering mess on the floor? Is it fear that keeps us from being vulnerable? Or pride? Our supporters don’t need to see everything, but they do need to see more than just the good stuff.
2. Find the people who have your back. Look hard for those safe people that you can be real with. Trying to do this hard life on your own is just not going to work.
3. Whose ministry is this anyway? Are we walking in faith? Are we actively seeking God? Are we sure of our calling? Then who do we have to fear? Who are we seeking to please? Does God’s work, His timing, His will need defending? This is what I preach to myself every day. This is not my ministry. And if He needs less of me in order to make more of Him, then so be it.
To be alive is to be broken. And to be broken is to stand in need of grace. Honesty keeps us in touch with our neediness and the truth that we are saved sinners. There is a beautiful transparency to honest disciples who never wear a false face and do not pretend to be anything but who they are. (Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel)
