The Futility of Busyness {and the richness of waiting}

a reflection of three years living and loving overseas

When I close my eyes and {try to} imagine Christ, for some reason I never picture Him up and running around, busy. I picture a peaceful calm. Yet at the same time I know He is constantly at work among us, through us, in us.

When I open my eyes, however, and see my life, so often all I see is busyness and rush. A hectic race of back and forth.

Nothing like my Father. 

If there is one thing God has taught me these last few years, it’s that He is not in a hurry.
(And let’s be honest, that is tough news to an American!)

We have plans and dreams and schemes and hopes all laced with goals and timelines and to-do lists to make those happen.

But God? He has all the time in eternity and He’s not afraid to use it.

We pace the floor, glancing at the imaginary clock wondering when all of these things will come to pass. And all it does is create in us a dissatisfaction with where we are, who we are, what we have.

All the while, God moves and breathes life, methodically and timely.

We huff and puff, missing the whole point of it all—Him.

But that’s too simple, to walk towards Him in humble submission.

We want results. Numbers.

I don’t suppose I’ve attended a single “church service” in my life that didn’t put a varying degree of emphasis on a number. This many in attendance, this many confessions, this many baptisms, this many new churches, this many Bibles given, this many “souls saved”, this much money donated.

Numbers. Goals achieved. 

And so we say that, yes, these numbers represent souls and lives changed. But ever so slowly {and mostly with no recognition at all} we fail to realize that, while these do represent souls, those souls have quickly faded from our focus. Because we are off to the next number goal.

Last year we had 100. This year we want to see 200.

Last year they gave $1,000. This year we want $10,000.

Numbers. Objectives. 

But why do we care about "how many" and "how much"? Because time is short... right? Some would say because Jesus is coming soon. Some would put up the counting clock that shows how many souls are dying and going to hell this VERY moment and what are we DOING if we aren’t counting “souls for the Kingdom”?

We’re living. That’s what we are doing. We are loving our neighbor. We are confessing our sins to one another. We are praying for healing. We are giving and serving. We are poured out and broken.

And yes we are even longing for that Day. But we are living this day in all of its holiness, too.

And when we recognize that God is sovereign and His plans cannot be thwarted, suddenly we don’t feel so glorified in our busyness. Because it’s that same lie that the busier we are, the more productive we are that leads us to neglect our children and our marriage and our neighbor in pursuit of the goal. It leads us to shout judgment and rules rather than hope and love.

Because when we are rushed, there is no time for love. Because love takes time.

Love is patient. Love is willing to endure rejection, hatred, failure, backlash. Because love has all the time in the world. Love never fails.

Rush says we need to see repentance now. It’s now or never.

Love says God is in control of the outcome.

Rush says the bigger the crowd, the better.

Love says this one sufficient.

Rush says goals must be met.

Love says goals are good but not ultimate.

Rush says there is no time to sit still, there is work to be done.

Love says we’ll stay as long as we need to.

So often we confuse waiting and stillness with laziness. But we neglect to realize that it’s often busyness that creates laziness. For what else do we want to do after a busy day but sit on a couch and let our “brains rest” in front of the television? What is a better excuse for a little more time on social media that a long day of working hard? We deserve it, right?

But when we create a habit of waiting and watching, suddenly our time is consumed with things that matter. More time with our Savior. More time to pray for healing. More time to listen. More time to sit. More time to hear. More time to see.

More time to truly feel the groaning of the world around us in need of a Savior. Our Savior.

More time to taste and see that He is good.

No longer do we need to shout from the rooftops our expansive knowledge of spiritual things. Our lives speak loudly enough.

No longer do we need to organize and plan bigger and better activities to win people over. Our lives are speaking Truth from which the Holy Spirit will win people over.

When we moved to the Jungle three years ago, we had plenty of plans and goals.

Not one of them came to pass as we had thought. Not a single one.

But when we found ourselves at the end of so many dreams, we found God was moving all around us the whole time. Turns out He didn’t need us after all.

And then we slowed down and we could hear it for once.

“Come.”

And it was scary at first because there wasn’t a plan laid out in that one word. He didn’t say where or how or when or even what the outcome would be. He just said, “Come.”

So with feeble hands and weak knees, we stepped out of what we thought was the way things had to be done and we decided to just trust His timing. To take it one step, one day, on moment at a time. We would just live life with these people and trust that He would do the rest.

And oh what we have seen Him do!

This doesn’t mean that it isn’t hard work. Again, waiting doesn’t mean sitting idly by. We’ve worked harder and cried longer and wanted to give up countless times these last three years. But there in the quiet we still hear His voice whispering, “Come.”

His Spirit strengthens us again and we walk with the broken and speak into their lives and show them a better way with all of our insufficiencies and weaknesses in full light and at the end of the day all that can be said is, “Wow. Look at what a God we serve. LOOK at what He is doing!”

So three years into this thing, I’m {not so} sorry to report that I don’t have any numbers for you... I haven’t been counting. But if you want to sit for a while I can tell you some truly incredible things that God is doing in and around us.

None of it was our plan. None of it fit into our schedules and timelines.

But all of it—every last detail—fit perfectly into His.

Dear Ashley From Two Years Ago...

Dear Ashley From Two Years Ago,

Hey, it’s me. (Or you, rather.) It is two years today that you have been here in Brazil (a year and a half in the Jungle) and I wanted to let you know a few things about this journey you are about to embark on. Go ahead and sit down. I know you’re tired with that baby girl growing in your belly and that two year old boy all wild and rowdy. I know you are experiencing the paradox of both utter excitement that your dreams are coming true and downright terror at the unknown that lies before you.

Let me assure you, this is normal and completely justified.

Here are some things you should know:

That little blonde-haired boy sitting next to you on the plane with his paci and airplane blankie? He isn’t as big as you think he is. He’s a little guy and he is going to prove to be both your sanity and source of insanity over the next several months. Enjoy him through and through because he is going to grow up before your very eyes and you are going to look back fondly on those times it was just three of you curled up watching Backyardigans in that 400 square foot air-condition-less apartment in the city with nothing to do and nowhere to go.

He will throw out his paci and trade in his Huggies for a mini-machete and Superman undies soon enough, so stop stressing the “when” of those things. Until then, let him have his paci in the line at the grocery store, even though it’s supposed to be just for bedtime now. Remember, he is trying to figure out what all these strange people are saying, too, so let him have his comforts. (By the way, stop stressing about him learning the language, too. He will learn it way before you and you will soon find your three year old correcting your grammar.)

That sweet baby girl curled up in your rib-cage that won’t let you sleep at night? You’re prayers will be answered in the affirmative and she is going to be the easiest baby God every created in the history of ever. You will survive giving birth to her in another country with a doctor that speaks your going-on-third language in a hospital where you feel painfully out of place. Everyone will think she is a baby doll when you take her out in public because that is exactly what she will look like. Hold her tight and rock her long because your life is going to get so busy soon that you are going to miss a lot of those moments and won’t even realize it before it is too late.

Your amazing husband and best friend? Your marriage going to have a tough go that first year. Life is going to get incredibly stressful and lonely and instead of leaning into one another, you’re going to push hard against each other. In fact, you are going to reach a point that you feel like roommates, simply coexisting. I know, you don’t believe it, but it’s true. Hang in there, because by God’s grace you make it through and you eventually find your footing again. You will laugh together and cry together and say, “What in the world were we thinking?!” more times than you can count. Lean into each other and remember you are both new at this thing called missionary life. Don’t be afraid to laugh and be quick to forgive. The seasons pass quickly.

Those plans to move into an indigenous village? Ain’t gonna happen, y’all. You will mourn your dream as you bury it, but trust me, later you rejoice. Life is hard enough in the small town you will move to and God is gracious to lead you elsewhere. And oh the plans He has!!

In fact, He will bring an Indigenous family to you. They will live with you for six months and it will be a stretching experience. Soak it in. You need these life lessons through this young family, lessons they don’t even know they are teaching. God will knit your heart with many of the indigenous people around you. Some of them with take advantage of you and turn their backs on you. Let it go. God sees. Others will teach you what it is to humbly serve, expecting nothing in return. You will see what it means to suffer for Christ and you will be stronger for it.

Which leads me to my next point and I hope you are still sitting down. In less than a year on the mission field, you will adopt a seven-year-old street girl… and she will undo all that you have ever known about love. She will steal your heart and you will beg God to make her your own. And when He does you will cry and ask Him to take it away. It is gong to be the hardest thing you have ever done. She will fight against your love. You will have to hold her down as she kicks and screams, demanding to go back to the street, after you just spent months fighting to give her your last name. God will put you through the fire with her and it will hurt. Don’t run away though. This, too, is worth it. He gives beauty for ashes.

There is more. God is going to give you a sweet lady in your life named Rosa. She will teach you to cut up a whole chicken and how to gut a fish (though she will laugh along with you when it takes you thirty minutes to do what she can do in five!) She will amaze you with her patience and awe you with her endurance. You will spend many hours talking and your kids will call her “Tia” (Auntie). She is going to be the Director of the Children’s Home that God is going to lead you to start.

Yes. Children’s Home. I know. I still think it’s crazy, too.

Your heart is going to break for the children on the streets of this town who have been abused and neglected. You will see their bruises and you will feed their bellies. You will bandage their wounds and you will give some of them the first hugs of their lives. You will lose sleep over them and you will pray for miracles. And God will allow you to be a part of those miracles.

During these first two years, you are going to be dumbfounded because you will come to realize something you never really considered before: you are totally ill-equipped for absolutely everything God has called you to do. You will fill inadequate as a mother. You will resist your role as wife. You will struggle to adapt to the culture. You will cry yourself to sleep many a night. You will get tired and lonely and scared and overwhelmed. You will miss family and friends back home. And also Chick-fil-a.

But you know what else? You will see God do amazing things. You will build strong friendships with people who look nothing like you. You will master your third language. You will learn what sacrifice really looks like. You will watch you kids speak multiple languages without even realizing that is STINKIN’ CRAZY! You will learn what ‘wife’ really means and it will become your favorite title.

And all of these will be to the glory of God for the very fact that you are inadequate. But with Christ, all these things are possible.

So relax. Laugh out loud. Soak it in. Endure.

It’s a beautiful journey you’re on. Don’t try to run it as you will miss too much. Just walk.

With still a ways to go,

Ashley

P.S. And another thing. When everyone around you down here pretends they have it all together, don’t believe them. You will quickly discover that this missionary gig is full of just a bunch of inadequates who struggle with the same things you do. Be real. Be transparent. It will serve you (and others) well.

Pray We Won't Be Moved

We're all just tired today.

I'm up with the sunrise to feed a hungry baby girl for the second or third time since I fell into my light sleep last night around 11pm. I can't remember if it was two or three times that she woke me up, announcing her empty belly.

Now I sit here rocking her bouncy chair with my foot, the only thing that will keep her content for now, guzzling a latte before our biggest little wakes, full force and full of life. And while I prepare mentally for his energy level so early in the day, I say a quick, "Thank you, Jesus", under my breath because just three days ago he lay lethargic and weak, battling a virus that stole the few ounces of fat his active body had, leaving him looking so fragile. Breaks a Mama's heart to see her baby that way.

Just as our boy recovers, though, it's Daddy's turn to take a hit. And we pray for quick healing as he is preparing to leave for the Jungle in just six short days. And I try to carry his load, too, because he needs the rest more than me right now. We pray I don't get the virus before I'm alone with two kids while Richard is away.

And we go through the motions of the day to day.

And we're all tired. We feel it in our heavy eyelids and our tense shoulders. Little man expresses it in whining and discontentment. Baby girl just sleeps away during the day. Peaceful baby dreams.

Seems like each day we get disappointing and sometimes even tragic news. So our physical exhaustion is coupled with mental and emotional exhaustion and sometimes it feels like too much. And we try to count our many blessings and "overflow with thankfulness" (Colossians 2.7) and trust that He is good. But some days it's just hard. Some days we ask why we're here. Some days we wonder if just maybe we misunderstood His calling because this doesn't "look right"....

Today I cling to the verse that we've honed in on as our "life verse" because it's the only thing that makes sense right now.

"But none of these things move me, neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy, and the ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the Gospel of the grace of God." Acts 20.24

These days we make a conscious decision that these "things", they won't move us. 

The untimely death of friends and babies taken too soon. 
The long delays in visa progress and the discouraging outlook of aviation medicals.
The lack of friends and community to build us up and to pour in to. 
The long nights and early mornings with new baby and sick baby. 
The holidays away from those we've loved the longest.
The distance from where our heart is planted on the other side of this foreign country we now call home and no clue when we will be reunited. 
The frustrations of broken toilets and cars that won't start and ATMs denying cards and hot days with no wind to refresh and broken dishes and all those little things that add up to mountains if we don't keep our perspective in check. 

But we choose. We choose that none of these things will move us and we will not count our lives dear unto ourselves because this IS our calling and we ARE where He has us and it IS worth the hardships and the tired and the loneliness if we can finish our course with joy because the Gospel is worth that. 

And we know that the trials only serve to make us more like Him (James 1.2-3; 1 Peter 1.6-7, 4.12-13).

We ask for your prayers right now, because they're needed.

Pray for strength and rest. 
Pray for wisdom and faith.
Pray for peace and perspective. 

Pray we won't be moved.

Thank you, friends.

Some of the faces that motivate us to push through.

We Are Those People

It's 5:30am on Christmas Eve and I'm wide awake. Not because of the excitement of Christmas less than 24 hours away, but because of a quirky little girl who refuses to fall back asleep unless I'm actively bouncing her rocking chair with my foot. In fact, if it weren't for the calendar telling me today's date, I probably would have forgotten what tomorrow is. It just hasn't felt like Christmas this year.

It occurred to me yesterday, in fact, that we are "those people" this year. The ones everyone says, "Let's remember the people who don't have anyone to spend the holidays with this year."

We have no family here. And the two friends we do have here left today to go on vacation.

And to top it off, it's day five of Elliott being sick. So sick he and Richard spent all day at the hospital on Saturday.

And I started to throw another pity party like I did when Richard and Elliott went to the States without me.

Poor me. Poor us.

*sigh*

And God said, "Really?"

"Yes, really," I said. "We are all alone here. No friends, no family. Elliott's sick. We're all tired from lack of sleep. It doesn't even feel like Christmas.... half of the Christmas lights on our tiny tree went out, for goodness sake!!"

*crickets*

*sigh*

"I thought I was all you wanted for Christmas," He said after a pause long enough to make me realize how ridiculous I am.

Well, yeah. There's that.

The past several Christmases, God has worked in our hearts about the overindulgence that Christmas has become materially. We've done a great job as a society to turn it into a self-centered, retail crazed fiasco rather than a time to remember the God who became Man to rescue a fallen world.

We've forgotten the beautiful, life-giving story behind the season.

This year He's breaking it down even further for me. Not because it's bad to be surrounded by family and friends on Christmas. No, that is in fact good. 

But because He knew my heart needed further refining. 

Because in all my efforts to eradicate the materialism from the holiday, somehow I still didn't get it.

I'm still pouting over the external when God says He wants the purify the internal. My motives, my desires, my goals, my dreams. And He loves me enough to make it hard.

So this Christmas is different. Hard even. We miss family and we long for friends. But our hearts find contentment in the one who is our all in all. The one who became flesh and dwelt among us so that we could live a life of hope and joy, glorifying Him as Creator, Sustainer, All-Sufficient One.

So, yes. We are "those people". The ones Christ died for, redeemed, and now uses every means necessary to make us more like Him. And if it takes a little home-sickness to bring me closer to Him, well, I guess I'll take it. 

"You rejoice in this, though now for a short time you have had to struggle in various trials so that the genuineness of your faith--more valuable than gold, which perishes though refined by fire--may result in praise, glory, and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ."

1 Peter 1.6-7

Merry Christmas, everyone!! I hope this Christmas brings you closer to the One it's all about!

When Dreams Become Realities

I don't know how many times it happens in a lifetime, or even if it happens more than once or even once at all for everyone.

But, in the midst of the change and tears and fears and doubts and anger and stubbornness and discontentment and the hard over the last almost three months here, something happened.

Something beautiful.

For the longest I couldn't see it. I was too busy sulking in my selfish desire for what was and what will be that I didn't even realize that all the things I had prayed for were actually coming to pass here in the now.

I think part of the reason that this beautiful transformation escaped my sight was because it hasn't looked like I imagined it would when I prayed.

What I mean is, in my prayers it looked easy.

When I asked God to change me, to make me like Him, to bring me to the place where He wanted me, I pictured peace and ease. Isn't that what Jesus said, "My yoke is easy and my burden is light"?

I wanted the end product without the process. And in the process I have found that there is no such thing.

Today, I hold in my arms a tiny, big piece of that dream. Her name is Raegan Piper Grey and she is more perfect than I could ever have dreamed.

And I think back at the process of bringing her into this world with the nausea and the sleeplessness and the tired exhaustion and the aches and pains and emotions and fears and longing for family to walk this with me but knowing they were thousands of miles away.

I think back on those nine months now and remember that it seemed like an eternity. Days seemed like weeks sometimes when factored in with all of the other life changes going on.

At times it was hard.

But somehow now as I hold this baby girl, I see that without that long, difficult process, there is no beautiful end result. And I find myself thankful for process that leaves me with a scar to remind me of this journey that was necessary to bring this life into the world.

And I realize it's in the process that we find God is true to His promises.

The past three months have been a roller coaster of emotions as we walk this dream of a journey that God placed in our hearts over five years ago now.

Now as I look back at the process that brought us here, I bow my head and lift my hands in awe that the Creator God would count us worthy of this calling. Would take the time to work out in our lives a beautiful masterpiece of His will and, what's more, He would care enough to make it hard.

If it were easy, we would never see Him.

But just as gold is refined in the fire and diamonds are made by pressure, we are made more like Him as we engage in what is uncomfortable and trying and even downright painful at times. It's in that process that not only are dreams given, but they are made into reality as we walk by faith, trusting His pathway though we can't see the next step.

This time last year I remember sharing with so many the desire of our heart to have another baby, to be in Brazil, to begin the process of getting permanent residency so we could work freely with the beautiful people God has given us a burning passion for. Back then it seemed so distant if not an impossible goal.

I sit here now, in Brazil with our baby girl as Richard is driving to register her birth so that we can begin our permanent residency process and my heart rejoices for the journey that we have been on and I humbly ask Him to continue to make us more like Him.

Even when it isn't easy.

"Consider it a great joy, my brothers, whenever you experience various trials,  knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance.  But endurance must do its complete work, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking nothing." James 1.2-4

 

Alone in the City: Day Six

"I just feel like I don't have any control at all!"

I said it with anger, through tears while Richard listened patiently.

Then he calmly said the words that were oh so true, but not what I wanted to hear: "Maybe that's the point."

"Of course that's the point, but I don't want that. I want to be able to control something in my life!" That's what I told God. The irony of the arrogance doesn't escape me. I see it for what it is, but I know God sees it in my heart anyway. May as well just say it.

The more I ask God to show me my heart, the uglier things get.

Today, I spent most of the day working on our ministry stuff and was confronted with more arrogance and irony in my heart.

We recently transitioned mission boards and somewhere in the transition we lost some supporters along the way for one reason or another.

And I worry.

I worry as I adjust the spreadsheet to reflect the new numbers and it's less than what it was before. Money has always been a struggle for me. I don't like crunching numbers, paying bills... I don't even like to know what's in our account. It's a source of stress.

And that's wrong.

The irony is found in the fact that I know that God has never NOT provided a need. Even now I sit here with food in my belly, internet at my fingertips, a glass of clean water next to me, and even a list of people who have said in just the last few days, "Let me know if you need anything!"

Meanwhile, in the Jungle, babies are dying from dirty water, malaria, and yellow fever. Tribes remain hopeless because the Gospel hasn't arrived and they watch as their people die daily from preventable disease. Indigenous missionaries long to go into the depths of the Jungle to reach their own people, but the funds aren't there. Marcos (who you can read about here, here, and here) supports himself, his wife, their 2 year old son and 11 Indian students on $250 a month.

Here, we still have more money coming in each month than 98% of the world will see in a year.

And I have the audacity to ask God to let me have control of something in my life. What a mess I would make!

My American heart is so scarred from a culture of excess and greed and I ask God to forgive me, deliver me. I want to see clearly.

"Create in me a clean heart, oh God. And renew a right spirit within me..." (Psalm 51.10)

I pray this, knowing that it will hurt.  After all, "pressure creates diamonds and fire refines the gold" (Tripp Lee).

But it would be oh so very worth it to have the faith of these Christian Indians in the Jung|e who daily fall before a holy God, begging Him, not for money or things or even security and certainly NOT to have control, but for strength to endure so that their families can know the Truth.

God forgive my faithless, arrogant, selfish, prideful heart.

Make me more like the very people You have called me to.

Alone in the City: Day Three

God is beautiful everywhere.

This simple yet profound thought came to my mind tonight as I looked up at the halfway moon in the cloudless sky, driving back from the most beautiful beach Brazil has to offer.

And I felt very, very small.

But it wasn’t a condescending kind of small, like I was useless or worthless. It was a feeling of peace, knowing that I am small, and that’s good.

It’s safe to be small when your God is so big.

There’s a message that my own husband has taught several times that I came to my mind tonight. (For the record, it’s not fun when the Holy Spirit uses your spouse’s messages to speak to you… it’s a blow to the pride.)

It comes from John chapter 6. To keep it short and sweet, Jesus pretty much lays it all out for the religious elite. He knew their hearts and ignored their empty words, stating they wanted to follow him when in fact all they wanted was what He had to offer.

In verses 26-27, Jesus calls them out, “I assure you: you are looking for Me, not because you saw the signs, but because you ate the loaves and were filled. Don’t work for the food that perishes, but for the food that lasts for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you, because God the Father has set His seal of approval on Him.”

In short, they didn’t want Jesus for Jesus, they wanted Jesus for His stuff.

Tonight, as I looked up at the moon, I was reminded that God doesn’t in fact need me. It’s not as if when I entered the world, He said, “Finally! She’s here!”

He is beautifully at work and His creation sings His praises and I am very small, nearly invisible.

And He says, “I have chosen you. I don’t need to use you, I want to. And that is good.”

But so often I find myself not wanting Jesus for who He is, but rather for what it brings me. Even the good things—peace, joy, love, hope—I want these more than I want Jesus. And that’s where the problem comes.

The missionary life is often deceitfully intriguing to the outside world. Stories of adventures and conversions and living in a far off place fill our minds as pictures of poverty and redemption fill our eyes. And it’s easy to love God there. It’s easy to be passionate and faithful in the excitement.

It’s the mundane that’ll getcha.

“Can you want me in the mundane?” He asks. “Do you want Me for Me, or do you want Me for what I can give you?”

The answer is hard, but I humbly acknowledge that most times I want Him for what He can give. I want the adventure and the passion and the influence. I fumble when life is just changing diapers and washing dishes and cleaning up messes and living the day to day. I am discontent there in the ordinary.

I fail most in the commonplace.

And He says to me, “I am beautiful there, too. You don’t see it because you don’t want Me. You want what I can give you.”

Tonight, I felt very small—just as I should. And I ask Him to help me desire Him for who He is and not for what I desire that He give me.

He is God in Heaven, and here am I on earth.

God, help me want you in the ordinary.