sabbath

I'm taking ballet. I have my own ballet shoes. And once a week, I'm learning to twirl across the floor. It's part of my Sabbath strategy.

Several months ago, I was diagnosed with "barreling down the road to burn-out". The good folks at the missionary training institute pointed out the symptoms that I had been ignoring. Why? Because I believed I was a super-hero. I was supposed to save the world. No, I HAD to save the world. And ultimately, no sacrifice within myself was worth turning back.

The fatal flaw in that idea is that if you sacrifice yourself, then you no longer exist. And if you no longer exist, you can't exactly save the world. Much less be a wife, a mother, a daughter, or a friend.

By God's grace, I began to learn the theology of Sabbath. Not Sunday itself. But the IDEA of a Sunday. Closing the door to the outside world and resting. Saying no even when you have the right answer. Even when the person's need is so legitimate and you are overwhelmed with the desire and compassion to do something. And most of all, even when it doesn't feel good to rest. It actually hurts. But you know that if you don't, you will be completely gone and you'll have nothing to give to the very person you long to be with.

Christ did this. He did it a lot. And I can't imagine how hard it must have been.

I'm still in the U.S.A. I don't know when I'll leave. I'm not showing up to social events very often. I'm not volunteering for anything at all. And I'm taking a ballet class even though I've never danced a step in my life. Because I'm on Sabbath. Regardless of how I feel about it.

furloughing contradictions

Furlough

How do you define a term that at once is a contradiction? Furlough is a missions term describing the 2 months to 2 years of time when the missionary returns to their home country to rejuvenate, reconnect, and reeducate before returning back to their assigned ministry location. It’s the term Geoff and I have been using to label our 2-month turned 10-month trip to the USA. On paper and in my daydreams, it was to be a lovely affair of dining with friends, reveling with family, and resting on my own. It has been all of these things. And simultaneously, it has also been the closest thing I’ve experienced to the emotional chaos felt by a pregnant woman! So much so, that I was even worried recently that I might BE pregnant simply because of my emotional instability. I was not. But, the emotional roller coaster remains. This has been a time of hiding back tears, stifling screams, and downing lots of coffee to keep myself from slipping into psychological sleep. Wow, that sounds terrible.

Reverse-culture shock is said to be one of the biggest stressors for folks returning home. And for me, it’s the mystery of it that makes it so difficult. What I mean is, I don’t know WHY I want to cry, or scream, or sleep. I just do. And the slightest little things set my mind reeling. That UNKNOWN perpetrator is so hard to deal with because I can’t fix it if I don’t know what it is. My marriage is strong. My daughter is sweet and beautiful. My job is a dream. So why do I feel this way?

I don’t know the answer yet. But here are a few guesses. For one, we’re in a new home every few weeks, often every few days. Two, I am immersed in the American culture of consumerism of which I can’t take part because I don’t have closets to fill with things I don’t need. Three, intimacy with my husband is just that. Intimate. And therefore very difficult when you’re always surrounded by someone else’s things. Fourth, being here makes me want to enjoy the things of America. But I have to go back to the Philippines. We’re not finished yet, and I know that. But the American dream is so strong on this soil…a house, a job, a family, a church, a stable consistent life of security. Nevermind the fact that this is not what life is really about much less truly attainable. Fifth, I’m an introvert. How an introvert ever found a place living overseas, I don’t know. Nonetheless, the constant engaging with others, while truly a number one priority for me (as relationships are more important than anything else on this planet), it is very tiring. Sixth, the polarization of American politics since we left the first time is incredible. And a little scary. So many are completely consumed with the politics of the nation that they miss the bigger picture of respecting and honoring one another. I know there’s a lot to be concerned about and I’m privileged to live in a nation where we have the ability to voice these concerns. But I’m not more interested in what Obama is doing wrong than I am with what God is doing right all over this planet. Seventh, people change. I’m a different person than I was when I left. Life experiences have sobered an already melancholy person. My loved ones here are different too. My friends and family have experienced life’s issues while I’ve been gone. And we can’t come together and slip right into the way things were. And that’s hard. Eighth, when you’ve been giving giving giving giving for two years straight, its hard to not slip into “what’s mine is mine and I’m getting mine!” mentality when you have a break in the work of giving. Its not helping anybody, including myself, to be that way. Ninth, I'm simultaneously wanting to be here AND there. Alone AND with friends. Giving AND receiving. Mourning AND enjoying. Moving AND being still.

So, there’s a few of my preliminary guesses at maybe why I’m feeling the way I do. None of it earth shattering. Hence the mystery that is furlough.

fertilizer

One of the cool things about our current life situation is the time that Geoff and I get to spend together. Of course, I write this as he's spending a month in Mongolia(!), but we're speaking generally here. :)

I guess the big difference is the shift in what our "work" life looks like. In the States, work is compartmentalized. Its something that you do, on your own, from 8-5 everyday. And then, you come home to your "family" life and do that (sometimes together, sometimes not). There were things that I loved and hated about that scenario. But either way, its very different here. In the Philippines, we are living our lives as our "work". Everything we do, from parenting Ariel to cooking food to working with musicians, is all considered our work. The main reasons I can think of as to why its this way is:

1. We're always being watched.
2. Things are not as convenient and, therefore, take more teamwork.
3. Its a priority we've made.

Doing life (that is work and play) together as a team was something we longed for in the States, but it just didn't seem possible. Moving here, we determined to take the opportunity given us and make some decisions that would determine how much time we had. We completely espouse to the idea that all of life is worship. And our experience here has really brought that idea home.

Having so much time together has also brought its challenges. We find out in what ways we DON'T get along :) and we suddenly have the time to hash through all the issues in our marriage that were easy to put off before. Both of these things did not "feel good" at the time, but having invested the time to walk through it and learn and grow and heal together, has been amazing. And if thats the only reason that God took us thousands of miles away from our busy US life, then it was worth it. We have experienced a friendship and love that could only be cultivated with the fertilizer of time and intention. And thank God for giving us that.

scenes from the weekend

Geoff is in Mongolia this month, so Ariel and I are doing what we can to fill our days with interesting things (so many of which are usually provided by Daddy himself!) I think we're managing well.

wrinkles in time

I've noticed this week that I've got WRINKLES! Its just a few, right around the eyes. I know that many reading this already have those and are probably thinking, "Oh whatever!", but hear me out.... "You've got such nice skin...You've always looked young like your mother." These I've always heard, and they're probably true. So, no, I know I'm not a prune, and probably never will be. And don't get me wrong. That's okay with me. But that's not the point. I'm saying that I am proud to join the ranks. Somehow, it actually encourages me. I know its easy to say that I don't mind aging from my 31 years point of view. It's just that I've always admired people who have persevered. Made it through. Have stories to tell. And those stories don't come without wrinkles. I've always imagined myself as an eccentric old professor, someday, who teaches her class through stories of her life's adventures. And of course, the students love her ;) And most of my life thus far, HAS been an adventure. And perseverance. Maybe my wrinkles are from laughing or maybe they're from crying. Probably both. But either way, they come with a few stories. And I hope I can tell them well.

obedience vs. sacrifice

Something that I've been thinking about lately is obedience vs. sacrifice. Those are not always opposing ideas. Sometimes obedience IS to sacrifice. And, in general, this is how I've usually viewed it.

Living here, in a place where people have substantially less than the average American, I am often struggling with, "am I doing enough...should I have given more...what can I do to make this better...?" And honestly, it gets tiring. Not my willingness to give. But my uncertainty in how to. Because oftentimes, even though people are asking for physical gifts, its not what they really need...and other times, it is. And its hard to know the difference. Every time I step out my door, even to do the most menial of task or errand, I am barraged with circumstances of need. Beggars with their outstretched hands. Friends in need of a favor. Merchants hoping you'll pay more. Or just folks that have no idea that I exist. But I see them. And I see their condition. So, needless to say, the feeling to sacrifice for their sakes, often becomes an intense emotion. And since I can't do it all, I'm often left feeling disgruntled, guilty, and ashamed.

This is where the story diverges from my usual view of obedience is to sacrifice. Because in recent days, I've realized that the feelings of guilt and shame for not doing enough are not God's doing, but my own. I've recognized a root of pride that, even in my attempts to be selfless, is threatening to send its shoots to the surface, showing my motivations as false and selfish. In other words, yes, I grieve that people around me are lacking. And thats a good thing. But I don't like the part of me that seeks to "look good" in my acts of service toward them. Sometimes, I feel guilty because of what others will think. What they'll say, and how they'll judge...the rich American who has so much and gives so little.

In 1 Samuel. Saul is dethroned because of his disobedience. And what was it that he did? He kept the fattest animals to sacrifice to God when God had told him to kill them all. You see what I mean? The sacrifice was FOR God. And yet it was disobedience to do it. Why? Two reasons that I can see...1. simply because God said not to...and that should be enough reason right there. 2. because he wasn't sacrificing in God's name. Ultimately, he was sacrificing in his own name. The sin of Abel. "See, look what I've done for you, God! Aren't I great?!" And that is where my path crosses Saul's.

Thinking through this has brought me some relief. And freedom. Because I am no longer chained by my guilt of not doing enough. But freed by my desire to do whatever God tells me to. And not worry about the rest.

For me, right now, this is how it plays out...God is asking me to take this time to jump in with both feet into the Word, meditate on it, soak it in, and deepen my understanding of Him. He's wanting to heal me, comfort me, and nourish me. This takes time. Literally. And I am fighting it. Because in my mind, I should be sacrificing my time to help with every need that arises (and there are a lot!). Not spending hours alone, away from the world, listening to His voice!

Another way it plays out is motherhood. I recognize that this is the only chance I get to spend the days with Ariel. By the time we relocate back to the U.S., she will be in school. And our schedules will be full and her influences many. Now is the time to cherish the hours of play and the opportunities for teaching. Because it won't always be this easy.

I'm not throwing away God's command to go and make disciples. Instead, I have a sense that the fruit of my time spent with Him will be an awareness and a wisdom to know how to meet the needs of those around me in ways that I could not comprehend before. And the time spent with my daughter will be an investment both in the lives of those who are watching and in the future.

And above all, in my obedience, I will get the chance to know the Wonder of all Wonders in new and deeper ways. And I won't be able to keep myself from telling others what I have seen.

rubber ducky

I think I turned a corner today. At least I hope I did. I had a revelation while I was the only white girl riding in a jeepney packed full of Filipinos looking at me through the corner of their eyes. I will NEVER fit in. EVER.

In the missions classes, they teach you to learn the culture and do your best to "when in Rome, live as the Romans do." In fact, the folks who are successful at it get this sort of "you're my hero!" respect as the ultimate of ultimate missionary. So, I went into this thinking, "yeah! I'm going to be the best of the best. The one who really learns the language, really delves into the culture, dresses like them, acts like them, rides the public transportation, totally blends in, and who the natives call one of their own."

But it's been more than a year, and I still feel like this:

(Except all the ducks are craning their heads backward to look at me!)

It's been a lot of pressure to try to fit in. And it makes going out in public frustrating because as hard as I try, I am still the plump white woman with a blond haired, blue eyed little girl in my arms, looking slightly bewildered under a mask of, "yeah, I'm cool. I buy things that I'm afraid to eat!"

So, to have my revelation of myself as a pink duck in a yellow duck world, is a bit of a relief. Experience has taught me that the glorification of the invisible missionary is a little over rated and misleading. Why don't I stop trying to hide and start learning to live. Yes, I am different. I will never be a Filipino. And instead of having a chip on my shoulder because everyone stares at me, perhaps I should celebrate the differences, smile, and say hello.

I'm hoping this is not just a fleeting good idea. I hope that it has roots that sink deep into my psyche. Because I need to move on. I need to make the most of this life. And I need to take the risk of loving people despite my own discomfort.

God help me.

Life Is What You Make Of It...Or is it?

I've had so many thoughts rolling around in my head lately, and I've wanted to blog them so often, but I haven't been able to put them all together in a coherent pattern. So, for the sake of posting something, I'm going to go on a bit of a ramble and see how it comes out...

Living here has been hard, emotionally, lately. The emotional roller coaster ride that one naturally rides in life seems to take faster turns and deeper drops when living in an unfamiliar home away from home. In my journey to navigate these emotional waters, I find myself battling to keep my joy. And I can tell I'm in the midst of a spiritual war that often translates into small daily things becoming deeply significant.

The other day, I was thinking of how to respond. Right now, I have a deep longing for home now that the holidays are approaching and the weather is changing in the U.S. Where I am, these meaningful changes that mark the yearly cycle of life experiences do not happen. The sun shines as hot as it did 6 months ago, and nobody cares about the pilgrims, giving thanks, or pumpkin pie. In my head, I thought, well, "Life is what you make of it, right?" I've just got to pull up my bootstraps and make it happen myself. But as a phlegmatic, my motto tends to more often say "Life is what takes the least amount of effort!" instead. The problem with this motto so natural to me is that life gets stale when you're always the victim of circumstance. And, both mottos fail to point to the source of real power we have in life, that is Christ.

So, I have begun to dwell more of my thoughts on Christ, who he was, what kinds of things he did, why it matters. I have to admit that Christ in my faith walk has usually been a "doorway" to God. I pray to "God" and thank him that Christ made it possible. But I find myself with more of an urgency recently to not look thru Christ toward God (although that is a beautiful thing), but rather to look at Christ directly. And camp out there for awhile.

And the cool thing is that while I do that, the joy that I've been battling for starts to spring up on its own. And then I find myself taking charge of my circumstances. But its not out of my own will power to make life better. It's out of a deep indescribable sense of peace that something amazing lies in the existence of Christ and I can't help but enjoy life more. Even though nothing on the "outside" has changed.

So, with all of that said, I've noticed how little things can bring great joy when you are looking for it. And because of Christ, all these little things become much sweeter. I'd like to share with you a few of the little things that have made me smile lately...

1. Doing arts and craft projects with my daughter. I think it is more for me than her but she seems to enjoy me enjoying myself :) Here we are making gingerbread "snakes" and toilet paper roll caterpillars.

2. Enjoying wind chimes. I've loved wind chimes since I was a little girl browsing the seashell shops of the Texas coast. I bought this one recently and have loved the texture and color it has brought into the room. (Yes, it is inside, not outside, because it would rot within a few weeks from the humidity)
3. Decorating a Fall Wreath. Ariel and I don't have a lot to work with when looking for evergreen plants to decorate a wreath for the fall season. But we took a walk, found what we could, and attempted to glue it all onto a piece of cardboard. I thought it turned out pretty well!
4. Christmas lights. For about $20 bucks and a crazy trip to the chinese market, we have been able to turn our courtyard into a little winter wonderland. The temperature might not change, and the mosquitos might still be out, but in OUR house, its the holidays!
5. Enjoying Beautiful art. A friend and colleague pointed me to a site that promotes the artwork of believing artists from Asia. I LOVE taking in the creative ways people from around the world express their love to God. Here were a few of my favorites by Sawai Chinnawong.

The Lost Sheep, The Good Shepherd

The Lost Son

6. Crafting curriculum for people around the world. I am currently putting together a training manual of sorts for Geoff and I to use. It will give the believing artists in this area of the world a practical guide for understanding biblical worship, how to encourage it in their area, and how to understand and create musical concepts that will communicate God to their own people. It gives me great joy to dig into the scripture, look at the works of other artists and music researchers, and think about how to communicate that to an artist in Mongolia, Thailand, or the Philippines. I can't wait to be in heaven and join in with the multitude of worshippers and all of their creative expressions! I guess I have an eternity to enjoy that, so for now, I am content with sharing the joy of the arts with folks here on earth.

7. Reading a great book. I am currently reading The Heavenly Man by Brother Yun. It is the account of a Chinese believer during the 80's. His story and all those he describes is deeply challenging. I've learned that these folks have a different take on suffering than we do in the West. In fact, he often says things that I've heard respected pastors booed at for saying in the U.S. It's not a fashionable take on suffering, but this guy doesn't have the luxury of fashion. If you want to know what people have endured for the sake of their faith and the amazing ways they find joy in it (!), then this is the book to read. I highly recommend it.

So, there is the end of my rambling. I hope that a coherent thought jumped out at you somewhere along the way. Although my little things seem insignificant and perishable, it is what they represent that is significant and eternal. A mother daughter bond. The beauty of nature. Memories of home. Expressions of love to the Creator. And connections with "family" all over the world. To name a few.

Life is what CHRIST makes of it!

And he makes it worth living.

Sacrifice

It's been awhile since I've posted. Major news is that my Thesis has gone to the printer and we just got back from a too short trip to the U.S. Before leaving for the States, Geoff and I daydreamed about all of the good food we would have (like Taco Bell, ha, good is relative in our scenarioJ). Going to Wal-Mart just to wander around. Seeing so many faces that we've longed to see. And driving on wide open roads! We were able to do all of these things and more. And, they were most satisfying (although Bell is not as good as I remembered it!). However, when we landed in Manila and felt the damp air and experienced the lively Filipino security guards smiling and joking with us (as we secretly pushed thousands of dollars worth of equipment past customs!), we both had a sense of, "Ahh, we're home."

There's just one catch. The sacrifice. Ultimately, being in the U.S. was nice. But there was nothing so overwhelming that it kept us from wanting to go back to the Philippines. In fact, we were greatly encouraged and our spirits lifted about our work after visiting with so many people who care about us. But when it came time to say goodbye at the airport, I watched Jim and Betty, Geoff's parents, saying goodbye to Ariel. And I began to cry.

Geoff and I have the opportunity to make decisions for ourselves and order our lives the way we want to. But Ariel and her grandparents don't have that privilege in their relationship. And that's the kicker for me. The very hardest part of being here is the sacrifice of relationship that they must endure. Our parents have and always will be supportive of our endeavors. And I know they're proud of us. But I also know their hearts hurt to see us go. Somehow, I feel responsible.

Is it worth the cost? I don't know. Only God can answer that. And I can only be obedient to what He's asked of me. But I love my parents. I miss them. And I'm sorry for the sacrifices they have to make.

So, with that said, here are a couple of pics of Ariel with her "G-Paw" (my dad) and her Nana (Geoff's mom) taken last week.

We love you G-Paw, Nana and Grandad, Mimi and Robin, Mawmaw and Pawpaw, Granny and Grandpa. Sincerely.

Betsy's here

Betsy has arrived. Most reading this will know who she is. But for those of you who don't, she's an incredibly cute and spirited 20 year old college student from Tulsa who grew up in Asbury's youth group. She was in 8th grade when I started my job at Asbury. (I won't say that makes me feel old because everyone says that and I'm not old anyway!)

Her arrival has sparked many new things. One, a change of seasons. It's been a dry one around here for quite a while. But God promises rain, and the slow shower of big wet raindrops has begun. I've come to love the daily sound of slow rain here, and the sensory experience of hearing and smelling those first few seconds of fat rain drops hitting the tin roofs aptly describes the emotional, spiritual, and mental experience of this time in my life. We've finally begun to settle in and know our way around. Ariel is growing more independent. My schoolwork is almost complete. The band is experiencing an explosion of performance opportunities. And I am easing my way back into a season of learning, composing, and performing music. Something I really haven't done since college. It's like being in that rain shower, taking a deep breath and smelling the earthy wet beginning of spring.

Betsy's arrival has also brought other things to the surface. I've realized that I hang around guys. A lot. In fact, most of play and work time in my adult life has been in mostly male company. Guys are great fun and quite weird. Which makes me laugh. But, in that environment, I forget to pay attention to the small things of being a woman. Then Betsy walks in. She passes by smelling of perfume. Painted nails, and clean hair. And it inspires me. It awakens something asleep inside. And I find myself taking a little longer in the shower.

Another blessing of her presence is the pair of fresh eyes she brings. She is seeing this place for the first time. She is experiencing the adventure of it. And feeling the reality of it's disparity. And as we talk about what she's seeing and feeling, it brings a balance to Geoff and I's cynicism and a hope of Glory that, in our hearts, had fallen under a shadow of the poverty we witness everyday.

So, all that to say...the rain has come. And it feels good. I'm looking forward to what the summer brings.

The Journey

I'm in the middle of writing my Master's thesis on the music of nomadic cultures. Today's been a hard day because after months of work, I've realized that I took a wrong turn somewhere and am heading the wrong direction from where my subject was originally supposed to take me. That means I've spent hundreds of hours reading and reviewing articles that will have little influence on my writing. And what really makes my brain shut down is that I have a major deadline THIS Friday. So, I'll be honest, I've spent a lot of time sleeping today. Much like your computer does when it doesn't want to do what you've asked of it.

When I finally mustered the courage to return to my desk, I found a little book about Ethnography ("writing about cultures") that gave me some encouragement. I had to share this with you because it so obviously reminded me not only where I'm at in my writing, but where we're all at in life. So, I'm going to give a few quotes and insert the obvious…. I open the book and the first thing it talks about is that ethnography [LIFE] is like a journey with many paths. The book claims its purpose to be "to enable other researchers [SOJOURNERS] to enjoy their journeys and to reach their destinations." Two sentences later it says, "Ironically, reaching a destination in ethnography [LIFE] often means taking false paths, coming up against dead ends or detours, and sometimes losing the way altogether."

Hmmm…that sounds familiar. What encourages me about these little statements is not that they give me some revolutionary idea, but they remind me that it's going to be okay.

With that, I'll take a deep breath, hit reboot on my brain, and return to work. …And the journey.

Who Are You Really?

It's easy to get lost in your own need. I have been thinking a lot about the things I'm uncomfortable with in my new "home". Spending lots of time figuring out how to fix it, fluff the pillows as it were, and make a cozy life for myself. At the same time, Geoff and I have been taking a step back. One of the things the Philippines is teaching us is that relationships are important. So, we're trying to look for opportunities to get to know people rather than just being frustrated about the things they do that don't make sense to us. I've been noticing a few things about people. And it has helped me to care not quite as much about my cozy place. Last night, over dinner, our bass player told us that he used to sleep in a cardboard box when he was 13. That was after his dad died and his mom left. Our house helper's little boy (the same age as Ariel) has lesions on his skin and is not keeping his food down. They don't know why. Another member of our band's father just committed suicide. I know someone else who is really lonely and reaching out for relationship in the very act of cutting them off. I thank God that he has given me the opportunity to see some of these things. This is really why I'm here. Not to be a cool girl who is doing exciting things. I don't want to be a judge or commentator on the lives of other people. I just want to know them, grieve with them, laugh with them. Find the beauty of who they are. In some ways, this is new for me. At least the acting out of it. If you know me, you know I'm rather quiet. I listen a lot and don't ask many questions. The listening has done me well for the past 30 years. Now, I'm learning how to ask. "Who are you really? Why are you so beautiful?"

Note: The pic comes from my visit to a remote village in Mongolia. This girl lived in the school dormitory where I stayed. She was very quiet and did not interact much. The day before I left, she wanted to give me hug. Who knows why. We could never say more than "Hello." I wish I could have taken the time to ask her my questions.

Cinnamon Rolls

So I was stingy with my cinnamon rolls, today. They were made by my hands, in my house, with my stuff, on my time, for my own comfort. So, no, you can't have one!

Here in the Philippines, everything is about relationship. Every interaction with every human being exists for specific purpose of connecting with that person. Even the sales clerk. And the shoddy construction worker. It doesn't matter what you need done. It matters if you've made them feel like a friend.

Just two days ago, Geoff was talking to our band about the early church and how everyone received and gave as they had need. We are blessed to be a blessing. And he posed the question, "What do you have to bring to the table?" For me, this hit at the core of my current dilemma. My first response was, "I've already given it. I left my home, my family, my friends, my cats, and my Wal-mart to come here. What else do I have to give?"

Colossians 3:12-14. Since God chose you to be the holy people he loves, you must clothe yourselves with tenderhearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. Make allowance for each other's faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds us all together in perfect harmony. And let the peace that comes from Christ rule in your hearts. For as members of one body you are called to live in peace. And always be thankful.

I think I need to write this one on the wall. All the missions training in the world doesn't change human nature. All of my resolution to live this verse out didn't change the fact that I didn't want to share my cinnamon roll with "friends" this morning. Again.

Yes, I gave up a lot to come here, but am I willing to share what I brought with me? God's love? My personal sacrifices don't mean much if I'm not sharing God's character with my new "friends". Does my cinnamon roll make this person feel like they're loved? Then maybe it's a sweeter gift given than received.

What are we afraid of?

At the moment, I am in Mongolia. It is a beautiful and rugged place. I am here as a music researcher in the rural regions of the country. Hopefully, I can discover what forms of music will be the best mediums for sharing Christ's story with the nomadic people of Mongolia's steppe.

The interesting thing is that I came here to serve. Yet, the Mongolian believers are outdoing me! Technically, they are so young in their faith (the first Believer came to be in 1990), and yet God has given them vast amounts of wisdom and courage. Everyday, they are sharing their testimonies without fear to their people. In America, Believers have existed since the country came into being, yet, we have so little courage to share what we know with others.

Why? When the knowledge of Christ has changed our lives making it full and worth living. Why do we not yearn to share this with those we love? Why are we so afraid?