• Six new believers and a church planted in my slum!
• The challenges of discipling the urban poor
• Signs of fruit that will outlast my time here
• Details about my return to the US
• Prayer requests and pictures!

Sometimes betrayal comes as a kiss
Sometimes a lie seems like what’s real
And we get so lost
We want to believe, to turn back
To what is truly holy
To the embrace we’ve once known
That seemed too good
And yet somehow not enough

Have mercy
Hear the groan and the plea
That gets stuck in our throat
And the prayer silenced by shame
Pry our hands away
From the enemies we cling to
Oh, lifter of our heads
Turn our faces back to you

I’m leaving in October.  In THREE months.  The last few weeks of that I’ll be completely useless, trying to say goodbyes, tie up loose ends, deciding how and what to pack up or leave behind from my life for the last five years.  And in the midst of this preparing for the end, God brings new life.  Two new believers in one week (maybe five, depending on how you define it) in this place I’ve labored in for so long.  And so little time to nurture them, to lead this house church, to enjoy this new season of harvest I’ve prayed for over the years.

With things happening so quickly, with everything feeling so DIFFERENT, it’s tempting to try to figuring it out using human logic.  If only I’d shared the Gospel in THAT way earlier… if only I’d taken Yut to visit that church a year ago… if only I’d told that story or prayed in that way…

There are definitely lessons to learn (I feel like my mind is bursting with all that I’ve been learning from this).  But really it comes down to the Spirit.  We really don’t know where it’s going to blow.  Or when.  I’ve been planting seeds into dark, mysterious earth, not knowing if they were germinating or just dead, not knowing if the soil was good, if God’s Spirit was blowing over this place and causing growth.  For so long it’s been about waiting… waiting… hoping… praying…

A lot has happened in terms of developing relationships, working with people to actively choose hope and change over fatalism and resignation.  I’ve seen parts of the Kingdom advancing here.  But despite continuing to share about Jesus, it just seemed like the words about his grace, love, invitation to relationship, were falling flat as soon as I’d speak them.  The only thing that kept hope alive for me was a couple of significant prayer times when I felt like God was clearly saying I was in the right place; that despite things looking bleak, despite talk of me maybe needing to move to another slum, that I would be able to stay.

And now this just seems to be his time.  It really does FEEL spiritually different in my slum right now.  I can’t explain it.

I don’t know why it’s taken this long.  I don’t know why my main role has been planting seeds—small, seemingly insignificant, full of a power that’s largely hidden and at times hard to hope in.  It’s a role that has required faith and patience, that until recently has forced me to find joy in something other than the fruit from my labors.  Harvesting is so much more fun!  But I’ll choose to trust God even when he’s mysterious.  After seeing how carefully and lovingly he’s worked in my two friend’s lives, I know he has his reasons, that are ultimately for my good and for the good of his work here.

I’ll just really need him to help me to get on that airplane on October 21^st…

Wisdom Made Foolish

This message you’ve entrusted to me
I love it, I live by it
It’s often what holds me together
It’s my deepest joy
But when it comes out of my mouth
In this place of temples and idols
Of desperate souls clinging to
Sacrifice and ritual
Golden monk robes
Seers and spirit houses and merit-making
It can sound like so much foolishness.

They search for release from suffering
And I answer with a man on a cross
Instead of nirvana, they see nails
Instead of wealth and comfort
A crown of thorns

They seek ultimate truth and purity
And I describe a God with emotions
Who can be known by mere man
And became one himself
Who speaks, and has a name

I tell them of a God who is jealous
To them, the ugliest of emotions
Demanding ultimate loyalty
Unwilling to share his worship with the idols
They’ve bowed down to their whole lives

And grace, how convenient a thought
No need for doing good, they conclude
Just a prayer and we’re clean
The good and the evil made equal
Their merit-making empty

But to me it sounds so different
A victor, not a victim
Of evil men or bad karma
An intimate Creator
We made in his image,
Not vice-versa
A devoted husband,
Calling me away from lesser loves
And mercy that is my only hope
Not a lazy, imagined salvation.

It’s the power of God
For those who are being saved
For those to whom you have said
“Let there be light”
And opened their eyes
Spirit, come
Or my words are empty
And my signs are misinterpreted
I’ve seen you do it elsewhere
And I’m asking for it again
In this place where no one has yet praised your name.