First observation:

God is God, regardless of where I am and what I am doing.

Isn't that just exhilerating to know?!

Second observation:

I am not a good swimmer. Out of shape entirely; although I'm not sure I was ever in it. Swimming out to that little "rope with floaties on it" today was quite the workout! And the experience of being out in the ocean alone... in deeper water... was interesting. Still, I love the ocean. Especially this corner of it. (Do oceans have corners?)

My life right now is very interesting. It involves changing diapers, making bottles, rocking restless babies to sleep when they wake up at night, taking them on little walks, playing with them, laughing at their antics and expressions, taking them swimming... motherly things, I guess. Don't get too jealous, girls. I know, it sounds like a dream. I have it good.

And yet, it has been so evident to me this week, again, that it is not the place or the circumstances or my opinion or emotional status that makes life good; it is Him. Jesus. The Author of life and beauty and music and laughter and truth...

There are challenges to life here, too. Things like getting up in the night, having an adorable little bumkin share some of their lunch by spitting it up on your clothes, and having to do treatments and house-purging to get rid of scabies. Being so far away from everything I know and love is an interesting experience, too; though of course I am well taken care of and have excellent company in Gerda and Annie and the babies. But in all of this, Jesus keeps drawing me back to what has seemed to become a major theme in my life:

It's all about Him.

Really, truly, seriously. He is the one who gives life, and the one who sustains it. He is my joy and the lifter of my head. He is my song, my food, my drink, my friend, my Father. When I get tangled up and turned around, it's because I have taken my eyes off of that fact. But if I keep my eyes on Him, abide in Him and He in me, then I cannot be shaken. By anything.

1 Peter 2:6 says it well: "...he who believes in Him will not be disappointed."

Thursday - Arrival in Port au Prince, Haiti

They're talking about me. I think. Every once in a while I catch a word, a glance; but since I can't understand most of it, I just mind my own business. All the 'busboys' sitting on the concrete wall on either side of me can just carry on their own conversation, I guess. Occasional honks or squeaky tires from the street on the other side of the chain link fence make up the background music.

As soon as we started coming in for a landing this morning, my heart began to open wide to this big, beautiful, hurting land. At first, I saw only the sea out my airplane window. I followed it out as the plane tipped and I saw no division line where the sea turned into sky. But before long, faint mountains emerged, and on the other side of the plane, I could see the city. The closer we got, the more clearly I saw the trees and houses and little shacks, the more I knew...

Haiti. I would come to love this land.

"Welcome," I whispered, "to my heart."

So here I am. I got to meet Heather, and her Stateside director, Michelle. I met some precious babies at a hospital. I went to an amazing hotel for lunch. I bumped through the crowded streets of Port au Prince in a rickety little van with Annie, Heather, Michelle, and a few others. I hauled my stuff into the sweet little apartment that I will share with Gerda and Annie and the babies for this next chapter, and heard the ocean from the balcony. I met the sleepy little ones, and then went with Annie to see the crèche (where the kids live) and meet several adorable babies. Among them was Mercy. Mercy is a precious creation of God, but she doesn’t have much time left. No one would be surprised if she got to see Jesus today.

How do you deal with things like that?

I’ve heard about it all my life, but being here is different. Holding a tiny little fist in your hand and whispering pleasant things to a dying baby is something you read about… right? Oh, Jesus...

It's been a full day; I think I fit about as much into a 24-hour period as you possibly could. Even after we visited the crèche around midnight, the craziness was not over. Our car broke down. We had to rent a ‘tap-tap’ and ride home in the back with stuff piled all around and on top! Quite an adventure.

I think again of little Danilo in Mexico, and I smile. I feel like a little Danilo, holding tightly to a strong hand as I walk into this unknown. I might hide behind my Father’s leg a little, glad that at least Someone knows where we are going and what we’ll do when we’re there. I look up to Him eagerly, openly. What should I do with what I’ve seen, Daddy? How should I react? What do You want me to do? And I’m so full of joy, so at peace, because I know He will never, NEVER let me down. He can’t—He is good, He is a Rock, and He never changes, never lies.

I’ll bank my life on that.

A Set Apart Girl conference as seen from Los Mochis, Mexico

The weekend started on Friday evening with a delicious meal of avocado quesadillas. We set up chairs in the living room of a charming Hacienda-style house that some friends let us use, and distributed the sweet notebooks that several Ellerslie girls had written notes in for the attendees. One of my good friends here led us in a few songs of worship before we started, and then we sat for a few suspenseful moments waiting for the video. Then—bingo!—there was our own Leslie Ludy on the screen. :)

  

What a privilege it was to get to hear truth that night, and all day on Saturday, with these young ladies (and a few mothers, too)! The mothers were very encouraged and excited to have truth like this for their daughters, and although I have not talked extensively with any of the girls yet, they seem to have really enjoyed it. One of them is even talking about wanting to come to Ellerslie.

Praying for the little girl in Haiti was a very significant aspect of the weekend. What a joy to be able to feel God’s burden and stand together in that little living room way down here in Mexico, knowing that all of you and others all over the world were standing with us for this little one’s life! After that session, we went in another room and spent some more time praying for her. One of the girls here said that she had never prayed like that for someone before.

All-in-all it was a beautiful weekend. We had a picnic in the front courtyard for lunch, and dinner had special pretty place settings for everyone. We were able to give each girl one of the Ludy’s books, and we also made silk flowers together for hair accessories.

We are so thankful to Jesus for answering us and lining up everything we needed (the location, equipment, food, schedule flow, attendees) for the weekend, and we have great hope for what He will continue to do in these ladies’ lives! Thank you to my amazing sisters (and brothers!) who poured into this conference. To God be the glory! 

Torn Away

There it hung that afternoon, as it had year after year after year: the temple veil. Yards and yards of blue and purple and scarlet, twined linen with cherubim embroidered into it, tall and thick; a complete and absolute barrier. What was inside? The presence of the Almighty, holy, eternal God. Outside, all of us.

For centuries now, that veil had stood between the people of Israel and their God. Only one person ever went past the veil each year, and only in the prescribed way: with blood. If that high priest went behind the veil into the Holy of Holies without the blood of the sacrifice, he would die. And if anyone else ever ventured inside on their own terms, they would die. Simple as that. Sin cannot stand in the presence of the Holy God, and since all have sinned, no human can stand in His presence. In that light, the veil was a merciful provision to allow the people to come even that close to Him without being killed. The blood of the sacrificed animals, taken into the Most Holy Place by the appointed High Priest and sprinkled on the Mercy Seat once a year to cover their sins, made atonement for the people, allowing them to live near the Presence and worship Him.

But what the people did not seem to grasp was that all of this was only a shadow of the real thing. The blood of goats and rams covered their sins, but it could never take them away; it was  mere picture of the true Sacrifice to come. The veil stood between the people and the Presence of God; but He did not want it to stay that way. The priest entered the Most Holy Place once a year to make atonement; but a High Priest was coming who would make atonement once for all.

That Friday afternoon in the Temple, the priests had no idea that the moment had come for God to reveal the spectacular beauty of His eternal plan. They did not realize that they were seeing the last of the shadow pictures, the system God had put in place to point to the reality. And never in their wildest dreams did they imagine that the blood of the true Sacrifice, the spotless Lamb of God, was shed that very day outside the city.

However, though they did not understand what was happening in the eternal realms that day, they saw the repercussions of it. For the moment Jesus gave up His life, the unthinkable happened: that tall, thick, beautifully crafted mass of a veil that divided God from His people was torn in two. Split, from top to bottom. Jesus entered the Holy of Holies to make atonement for us, not with the blood of bulls or goats, but with His own blood. And the moment His work was done and His blood brought before the mercy seat, He tore away that great dividing curtain forever.

Heb 10:19-22 “Therefore, brethren, since we have confidence to enter the holy place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way which He inaugurated for us through the veil, that is, His flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith…”

Poetry: a genetically carried tendency?

I was tossed about

Filled with fear and doubt,

Seeking happiness apart from God;

Then His pow'r divine

Changed this life of mine

As I plunged into the crimson flood!

Matchless grace and love

Sent from Heav'n above--

Jesus Christ came down to die for me

By His wondrous grace

I shall see His face

And shall reign with Him eternally.

Now day by day,

I walk with Jesus hand in hand

I'll follow Him

At His command

This my song shall be, through eternity:

Jesus Christ is everything to me!

--Valerie Fluegge (now Mydske)

sometime in the 1940s

I didn't even know my grandma wrote poetry. Going through old pictures as we prepared a little video slideshow for their sixtieth anniversary coming up, I ran accross this little book made of rough-edged paper and covered with a plaid upholstry-type fabric. Inside, as I gingerly held the book to keep the pages from falling out, I saw a letter addressed to Grandma's mom, dedicatingthis little book of poems and pictures to her. Thumbing through the pages, I asked her and found that she had written most of the poetry herself.

That blessed me. Being an aspiring poet myself, I was delighted to find that I was not walking a new path in my family. Someone had gone before me; not only in piecing together words and lines, but in putting them together in a feeble attmept at expressing who Christ is and what He has done.

Thank you, Grandma! And thank You Jesus, for letting me see this glimpse into the past, this new appreciation for my heritage.

Doulos -- The King must be crazy

“Pssst!"

I jumped when a light finger tapped my shoulder from behind.

“What do you want?” I whispered. It wasn’t much of an invitation to visit, but the man took it as such and settled down next to me in the middle of the dismal cell.

“I have news, Doulos,” he told me, and an odd look on his face made me suddenly curious. I motioned toward Ebed, sleeping in the dark corner, and put a finger to my lips. “Go ahead.”

The man took a deep breath, as if unsure how to start.  “I – I suppose you are aware of our plight,” he said.

I nodded. That now-familiar mix of fear and anger began to rise up in me, and I could not speak.

“I suppose you already know that nothing can take away our sentence. There is absolutely no way to repeal the death penalty. Bloodshed is demanded and cannot be– “

“Stop!” The hurricane force of emotion let loose inside of me. I thrust out my hand, trembling, in front of the man’s face. “I know,” I panted, and looked down to hide my sweaty, anguished face. “I already know. It haunts me every second. I am going to die…”

The man nodded, thoughtful. “That is exactly why I thought you might find my news of interest. See, there is one way to escape execution.”

I shook my head and groaned. “You are wrong. The King is not unjust; He cannot forgive sin.”

“No—unless…”

I turned and stared at him.

“Unless someone else dies instead. If a perfect man—one with no rebellion, no imperfection, and perfect toward the King—is executed, we would be free.”

I slumped back down into my original position, knees up against my chest, head down. “Forget it,” I growled. “There is no such man as you say. Don’t you understand? No man is perfect – except the King. And even if there were a perfect man, would he want to come down here into this filth, and – and look around at all this mess and all the people who hate him, and then walk out there to the executioner and – and die? That is craziness.”

I looked away, so I didn’t see the man rise quietly to his feet. But his last whispered words remain with me to this day.

“Then I suppose,” he said, “that our King must be crazy.”

I stopped breathing for a moment. Then I gasped, “what?” and sprung to my feet. My eyes darted to the door, but the man was gone. “What are you saying?” I whispered, but even as I asked, it hit me. My chest rose and fell in great heaves, and I began to shake all over. “It cannot be!” And then suddenly I was in a heap on the floor, face to the cold, dirty stone, sobbing like a little child.

After a long time I lifted my head and looked into the corner where my friend slept. “Ebed,” I whispered, “Wake up!”

He opened his eyes slowly, hesitant.

“Ebed,” I cried, gripping his shoulders, “You won’t believe this. You know that death sentence you told me about? It has already been served! The King—the ruler of all—has taken our punishment.”

The old man’s parched lips parted in astonishment. I will never, ever forget the look of indescribable joy that came over his face.

Doulos -- an allegory of the Fall

I slumped to a sitting position against the cold, damp wall, and sighed. “I just don’t get it,” I breathed. “If He is good King, and if we were made to live… free…” I said the word haltingly, unused to saying it. “Then why are we here?”

I thought I heard a faint groan as Ebed turned to look out the tiny, barred window. “It is our fault, Doulos. We put ourselves here. We sealed our own fate.”

“But—“ I stammered. “But I don’t even remember coming here. I do not remember ever being free.”

“Because you never were. You were born a prisoner, like all of us. Way back at the beginning, when the King created the first man and woman, He gave them very specific instructions on how to live. His instructions were not hard, but He left the choice to them…” His voice seemed to evaporate into memory.

I waited a few moments before turning to him. “And?”

“And they failed, Doulos. They believed the cursed deceiver instead of their King. Oh, oh!” His voice sounded so pained, I winced. “They must not have realized! How else could they have given it all up: the beauty, the perfection, the very nearness of the King Himself… Think of it, Doulos. Just think of it! Walks in the cool of the day with the King.”

“But— why? What would make them rebel against Him?”

Here Doulos looked at me, and I had to look away because of the intensity in his eyes. “The very thing that makes us do the same,” he said. “Sin. We want our own way. We think we know best. We want to be free from the restraint of His law.” He chuckled, but it sounded cold and harsh. “Just look where that freedom has gotten us.”

I tried to take a deep breath, but my chest felt heavy. Never before had I seen the horror of my situation.  “So—“ I faltered, “What is there to do?”

“Nothing.” he said. “All we can do is sit here in our chains, dead men in prison, and await execution.”

“Await… what???”

Ebed sighed again. “We did it to ourselves. I told you already. We broke the King’s law, so we deserve death.”

A wave of mixed anger and fear crashed over me, and I began to tremble. “You are lying to me,” I whispered. “The King wouldn’t do that. It is not fair! I never did anything that bad. You—you are lying, Ebed…”

But deep down, I knew with all my shuddering heart he was right. I knew I had broken the righteous laws of the King, and I deserved death. I knew He was too good to overlook my crime, and could do nothing but administer justice.

I looked away from Ebed. I wished I had never spoken to him. But little did I know that understanding my problem would open the way for me to see the answer when it came.