my counselor casually mentioned how my family had been scapegoated in the missions community. After she said that I spent several weeks reading about scapegoating and trying to decide if she was right. I think she was,
I feel betrayed by his silence and apathy, or at least by what looks like silence and apathy to me. As my son said, “How am I supposed to trust anyone when they tell me they care about me after this?” How do I trust God’s love for me when it feels like God is less concerned with justice, truth, and kindness than I am?
None of us can be safe for everything. We have to choose what we will be safe for and what we will be unsafe for.
If God’s desire is that men lead unilaterally over women, yet over and over in Scripture there are situations in which women are in authority over men, God is incompetent… or else this is how God wants it to be.
… what would have happened to the Jewish victim after he recovered and returned home. Was he ever able to go to the temple again? Did he panic every time he saw a Levite? Was he bitter and angry with all priests because of the one Priest who had left him for dead?
While I sobbed my way through the process of unraveling, I can’t say that I ever ran from it or numbed the call to pay attention to it. I just knew that this was the only path that was worth taking.
I think it’s the theme of my life… there are more people and nations that he will give in exchange for my life. It’s not because I’m somehow extraordinary, but simply that any person who knows in their bones that they are precious and honored and loved is compelling to other hungry souls. And I am that.
I’ve never been much of a collector. If anything, I love throwing things away. Probably a consequence of a life lived on the move since childhood. I hold onto material possessions lightly, and there are precious few things that I can say have any real sentimental value to me. One of the few exceptions is sea glass. On my honeymoon fourteen years ago, I started keeping the sea glass that I found on my walks along the shores in whatever…
Mary, however, did not need to learn who he was. She knew exactly what his identity was from his first breath even if she had no idea how this God-child of hers would accomplish his mission.
(This is taken from a newsletter sent out a couple of years ago. Having had a number of conversations about my observations on spiritual warfare in Bali, I thought it would be helpful to make it public.) Recently a friend of ours, Adam, came to visit us. One day we arranged for a Hindu friend (Mr. T) who is a driver to take him around a particular area, and that evening ended up at Mr.T’s house enjoying traditional Balinese hospitality. At…