Confessions of a Missionary Wife

Brats of Grace

2012-01-16T15:40:00.000+01:00

"But his delight is in the law of the Lord and on His law he meditates day and night." Psalm 1:2.

The law. It's gotten a bum wrap in our day and age. Modern western society tends to see it as oppressive, authoritarian, an enemy of true freedom. And, unfortunately, the sentiment has seeped into how we understand faith and God as well as how we raise our children.

Granted, both nations and religions have abused "law" in many ways over the human history which fuels the case against it. Legalistic churches condemning the down and out portrays a stark contrast of what Christ called the church to be. And so we ridicule "law" and champion "grace" to such an extent that we have cheapened what grace truly is.

The psalmist rhapsodizes over and over again about his love for the law of the Lord. He has a passion for it. It is precious to him.

We tend to turn up our noses at it, commenting "Well, I'm glad I live the age of grace."

But in doing so we miss the point! The law is our friend, precisely because it condemns us. Without it, we would be clueless as to how bad off we really are. Without it, we could pretend that we are good enough. We could evaluate ourselves according to our own deeds and feel quite smug and self-righteous. And we are prone to these very attitudes.

We need the law because without it, we CANNOT understand grace.

I believe there is a reason so much of the Bible is Old Testament -- life under the law. Law is the very foundation to understanding grace. Without the law there is no grace.

But the modern Christian era tends to want to ignore law in the name of grace and this paradigm impacts all areas of our life, especially how we parent. The trend in past generations was toward authoritarian parenting and there was plenty of baggage that came with with that. In reaction to that, we've thrown out strong adherence to rules in exchange for a kinder, gentler style of parenting. Today, parents do not say "no" to their children. There are not absolute rules, and misbehavior does not have consequences. Children are free to question their parents with the ugliest attitudes imaginable. Backtalk is accepted even at the earliest ages and respect has gone the way of eight-track tapes and celluloid films.

We may think we are teaching our children about grace with our unconditional acceptance of their bad behavior, but I would argue that we actually may be creating barriers to their very salvation.

Think about it.

The child who has a clear cut set of reasonable rules that when broken incur consistent consequences (punishment) understands earlier and more clearly that sin has consequences or that "the wages of sin is death."

But the child who faces no rules and/or no consequences for misbehavior has no frame of reference for this foundational concept of faith. How can he grasp the idea that Jesus took on the consequence of our sin when he has never experienced that sin or bad actions have consequences?

In my years of teaching in Hungarian public schools as well as doing kids ministry, I've witnessed the trend toward permissiveness and in Christian circles it is often framed in terms of teaching loving grace.

But in truth we are doing our children no favors if we try to teach them grace without first laying a clear foundation of law. By this I am not talking about the authoritarian parenting of generations past, but rather clear-cut reasonable rules that we can enforce with consistency. Rules that establish the principle that sin has its consequences which cannot be escaped.

Because then and only then can we truly begin to teach our children of the spectacular mysterious gift of God's grace.

The Psalmist had it right. The law is not our enemy. It should be our delight because it brings us into the fullness of His magnificent grace. And that is worth meditating on, both day and night.

How Evil Could You Be?

2011-12-13T11:13:00.003+01:00

"...deliver us from evil" --Matt 6:13

What does the face of evil look like? Does it bear the rectangular mustache of Hitler or does it hide behind the long, bristly beard of Bin Laden?

Or can evil lurk in that image we see each morning in the bathroom mirror?

How evil might each one of us be -- given the right circumstances?

In describing Hitler and Stalin, the great evils of his time, CS Lewis insightfully wrote: "You and I are not, at bottom, so different than these ghastly creatures." Could that be true? It is worth pondering.

We live in an age where a great deal of evil is minimized by our social customs and even excused under the auspices of psychology and medicine.

For example, if a child is rude and disrespectful to you and is forced to apologize, what are you supposed to say?

"Oh, that's okay." Or "It's alright." Or "no problem, don't worry about it."

What are we teaching kids? It's not alright to treat others poorly. The apology does not make the behavior okay. Treating others badly is a problem.

Perhaps a more appropriate response would be "I forgive you."

We downplay wrongdoing even on the adult level, but we have found more sophisticated ways to make evil behavior palatable and void of responsibility.

In 1991 in Virginia, a 41 year old woman was acquitted of drunk driving after claiming "diminished responsibility" due to her PMS. In England, a barmaid who murdered her co-worker in a fit a rage was convicted on the lower crime of "manslaughter" after claiming severe PMS diminished her responsibility.

Yes, I understand the whole chemical imbalance and hormone thing. Yes, I've experienced a bit of it myself. But is that an excuse for sin? Does it make sin okay?

A few weeks ago I visited a friend who struggles with a bipolar disorder. She is very open about it. And I have to say she manages it extremely well. Still the disorder impacts every aspect of her life. But she has not used it as an excuse for sin.

She has taken responsibility which in her case means meeting with a therapist each weak who adjusts medication regularly. She has to make conscious choices when everything inside of her is driving her to run away. When all feelings tell her to do things that would destroy her life, marriage, and family, she must choose to fight and avoid situations that might even lead to temptation. And she does it. She fights a hard battle each and every day, tirelessly. She does it because she knows what is at stake. Her prayer of "deliver us from evil" is a very real and tangible one.

Humbled by how she lives her life, I had to re-evaluate how I respond to my own mood swings which are just a result of being female. How often do I allow the fact that I feel edgy and miserable inside to become some sort of license to snap at my husband or children.

The fact that I feel bad does not give me a right to treat others badly. (Yes, I know the blog will come back to bite me, but that does not make it any less true.)

And men are not off the hook. How often do we let things like stress (whether we brought it on ourselves or it was thrust upon us) to be our excuse to treat others badly?

Do I really think that because I feel overwhelmed and stressed that it's okay to yell at my kids, be rude to my spouse, slap the dog ...etc.?

It sounds ridiculous, and yet we've bought into it. So how far are we willing to take it?

Hitler had a troubled childhood, does that somehow atone for his sins? What was in Bin Ladin's chemical makeup and childhood upbringing that crafted him into the image of evil that he became? Do those things invalidate his countless murders?

Considering how bad we are at taking responsibility for how we treat others, if we found ourselves in either Hitler's or Bin Ladin's same circumstances, would we really be so different than they? It's a chilling thought.

And with that thought, we can properly look at this line of the Lord's prayer: "Deliver us from evil."

Indeed we are capable of all kinds of evil and we can thank God that he has preserved us in so many ways. Still we allow evil to creep into our lives and even embrace it. We've allowed certain sins to become familiar friends, so much so that we hardly even think about asking forgiveness for them anymore.

No wonder Christ taught us to cry out, "Deliver us from evil."

Let's rekindle the desperation of this plea and recognize how we've given evil a foothold in our lives. Let's stop giving ourselves a license to sin in the name of stress and pms and start crying out forgiveness and help. For God wants to help us bear those firey emotions -- that we may not to leave those we love most as scorched victims of our wounding words and deeds.

The Worst Thing That Could Have Happened

2011-12-09T09:37:00.001+01:00

"Lead us not into temptation ..." --Matt 6:13

It was the worst thing that could have happened. For a major in the US Army to be passed over three times for promotion to Lt. Colonel, stung with a bitterness that was not unlike death. Yes, it was a death, the death mark to a military career that had otherwise appeared quite successful. Everyone who knew him and had worked with him were aghast. If ever there was a major who deserved promotion, it was Major Russell J. Chun.

What no one knew at the time was all that hung in the balance of that promotion. Had he become Lt. Col. Chun, Russell would indeed likely have received the accolades he deserved and completed all the accomplishments he'd planned. But countless lives would have also been left in bleak darkness.

Because he did not make this promotion, he became involved with GoodSports International and began working with orphans in Hungary. As a result I met him, leading to our marriage and the birth of our daughter and the adoption of two children out of the Hungarian orphanage system. But that is only the beginning. His retirement in 2005 led to a consistent presence in the Miskolc orphanage where the children regularly hear and experience the love of Christ. Beyond that, at least four or five other adoptions can be traced directly to Russell's involvement with GoodSports and the Miskolc orphanage. Still more, thanks to Russell's failure to make Lt. Col, one orphanage boy grew up to work with GoodSports where he met his American wife. Her family has so embraced him that he has discovered what family is all about. Moreover, another boy who grew up in the orphanage now attends Bible college in Hungary. And these are just a few of the stories where we've had the privilege to see the outcome. How many more do we not even know about!

Yes, at the time it seemed like the worse thing that could happen to a successful major in the US Army. But in God's economy, it was the best thing that could have happened for countless souls.

When we think about temptation, we think about the lure to sin. But often we limit our scope to sins like adultery, fornication, lying, stealing and cheating. And granted, we need to pray that we are not lured into such sin. By praying this, we acknowledge our weakness. We realize and remind ourselves that we are frail creatures prone to failure in our spiritual walk and we desperately need to cleave to our Lord to make it through the temptation.

But temptation can take many forms -- forms that we are all too comfortable with. And subtle sins can become familiar friends in the landscape of our lives, so much so that if we really understood what we were asking God, our human nature might hesitate to pray this prayer.

CS Lewis explained it well when he said, "'Lead us not into temptation' often means, among other things, 'Deny me those gratifying invitations, those highly interesting contacts, that participation in the brilliant movements of our age, which I so often, at such risk, desire.'"

The prayer "Lead me not into tempation" may well mean, in practical terms, "Deny me success in my career because that success would make me smug and self-satisfied." It could mean, "Deny me marriage, because that relationship would become more important to me than my First Love." It might mean, "Deny me a house or car because having those things would make me materialistic."

In a nutshell, these five simple words can have long-reaching ramifications. It can mean, "Deny me all things that I long for and value most if they, in any way, would draw me into sin"

Because at the end of the day, when all is said and done, God is more interested in our character than our career. His deeper concern is for our holiness more than our happiness.

And so Jesus urged us to pray, "Lead us not into temptation..." So if we are brave enough, if we have faith enough, let's obey and pray it. But let's do so with open eyes, understanding all that it might mean. Because we may well be asking God to allow that which we think is "the worst thing" to actually happen to us.

But we also may well discover, like Russell Chun, that the thing we deemed "worst" by the standard of our frail and fallen desires may actually end up being a better plan with effects far greater than we could have ever dreamed.

The Supernatural Act of Forgiveness

2011-11-24T09:29:00.001+01:00

“Forgive us ourdebts, as we forgive our debtors...” Matt 6:12

I was mad.

More than mad. Ifaggravation, disappointment, and outright anger could be seen assteam blowing out my ears, I could have powered a steam engine atfull speed. A church I greatly respect had removed two pastors forsuperficial theological differences. That alone was bad enough, butthose were the only two pastors the orphans I worked worth had everknown. These men and their wives had shown love to these kids and nowwith little to no notice, these ministers were going back to thestates.

What message was thatsending my kids at the orphanage? To have these people leave withhardly a chance to say goodbye would be yet another slap of rejection inthe face of an unwanted child. To know a church was the cause wouldform their impression of what “church” meant.

As I walked through thestreets of Budapest running the account of what had happened throughmy head, I was ready to burst with rage. And who should I stumbleupon but the pastor of my church. He was not singularly the forcebehind the denomination's decision, but he was part the authoritystructure that carried it out.

“Hey Trudy!” hegreeted me pleasantly. “How's it goin'?”

I held my chin high asI looked him in the eye and answered, “As well as I could, giventhe circumstances.”

He looked puzzled.“What do you mean?” he asked kindly, in that pastor/counselortone that shows sympathy and care.

Now he had asked for itand was ready to give it to him! With wordsthat were on the surface polite and diplomatic, but underneathseethed with prickle and sting, I launched into a diatribe about howthis church claims to “major on the majors and minor and minors”in points of theology but in reality had shown that is not the case. I told him how little I cared about their denomination's policies andpolitics, but I did care about the orphans. And those orphans are thegreatest casualties of the decision. But I know they did not factorthis into the equation when the denomination came down with itsruling. “...After all, they are only orphans.” I quipped withfire in my heart.

The man, perhaps wisebeyond his years, met my prickles and stings with gentle tones as heexpressed how painful this had been for him. And he promised thechildren would not be forgotten, and in the end, he asked, “Willyou forgive me?”

Will you forgive me?Those powerful words all too often go unstated. I was caught offguard and mumbled something about how I was not sure it was an issueof forgiveness. I don't necessarily think it was a sin, but it onsome level it was wrong. And I was all muddled inside.

As we look at thispassage of scripture, it is interesting that it has been translatedinto English a number of ways. One version says, “forgive us ourdebts....” Another states, “Forgive us our trespasses....”Still another translates it, “Forgive us our sins ….”

The reason for thevariation is that no one English word fully encapsulates the meaning.The original language uses a word here that encapsulates all theseconcepts.

So often, we take thispart of the prayer to simply mean sin, as in clear-cut,breaking-the-ten-commandments-style sin. And we allow animosity thatstems from less-clear offenses fester. Let's look at the differentshades of meaning.

Debts: Financial debtsare the first that come to mind, but it might also include a debt ofdeed. For example, we often say, “I owe you one” or “he reallyowes me for the help I gave him.” It may also include propertydebt, as when someone borrows and breaks something.

Trespasses: This wordputs me in mind of the rickety signs that would hang from rusty metalgates in rural Texas. “No Trespassing” the signs read. It meansdon't come in here. It sets a boundary in no uncertain terms. Totrespass represents a violation of person or property. Trespassescould include abuse, stealing, misuse of property among other things.But it also includes much simpler things like when people presumeupon your time and you get forced into doing things you really neverwanted to do. It can include those times when people take your stuffwithout asking or say something that is really inappropriate orhurtful – whether they mean it that way or not. It includes a hostof minor offenses that serve to irritate, aggravate, and alienate usfrom those around us.

Sins: This one is mostobvious. Sin is breaking the law of God. The clear cut disobedienceto the ways and Word of God.

By looking at thesethree different words, our scope on this verse expands to a fullerunderstanding of this element of The Lord's Prayer.

By imploring God, ourFather, to Forgive us our debts, trespasses, sins. We acknowledge:

Our debt: all that we owe that we could never repay, beginning with salvation and continuing to every aspect of our life.
Our trespasses: all the ways in which we go beyond the boundaries God has laid out for us. All the ways in which we presume upon his nature, power, goodness despite our inability to understand his ways. All the times in which we accuse Him when things don't turn out the way we think they should. All the ways in which we misuse and abuse the blessings He has given us.
Our sins: all the ways we disobey His Word.

By understanding this,the scope and spectrum of forgiveness expands requiring seriousattitude adjustment in common daily interactions besides the obviousdifficulty in forgiving blatant sins that have been committed againstus.

This verse would bemeaty enough if it just stopped there. But Jesus doesn't stop there.He takes it one very uncomfortable step further when he adds, “aswe forgive our debtors” or “those who trespass/sin against us.”

Linked to the firstpart of the equation comes that small but brutal word “as.” Andby making this link Jesus underscores how important forgiveness is tothe Christian life.

So not only do we need to consider our need to be forgiven for this spectrum of offenses, we also need to forgive in like manner.

Why is it so hard todo?

There is an array ofreasons why it is hard to forgive, especially if the offense is someheinous act, a truly unforgivable deed that violated us to the core.

We don't want toforgive because:

Fear – the false belief that forgiveness means you have to open yourself up to repeated abuse by the perpetrator. But forgiveness does not mean becoming someone's doormat. Forgiveness is where you are in your heart and if the offender shows no indication of changed behavior you are under no obligation to return to a bad/dangerous situation.
Justice – the perpetrator does not deserve forgiveness. Many times those who sinned/trespassed against us really are not sorry, making forgiving them all the more difficult. We might relaize we can't and don't have to trust this person anymore, but how do we let ourselves trust anyone else? This opens a whole new can of worms.

When we face thesekinds of situations, it almost makes us wonder why God would evengive us free will if we only use it hurt one another? We all toooften use it to turn our back on Him as well. Would it not be betterif we had no choice. Wouldn't we all be safer and the world be abetter place?

I pondered this issuefor years. And it wasn't until I attended a lecture in Budapest someyears ago that I finally understood. There a man spoke about Adam andEve and the garden and free will. To give these first human creationsthe gift of free will was a remarkable risk. It risked turning allof the exquisite creation into a tailspin of disaster. Why wouldGod, especially a God who is sovereign, take such a risk?

The man explained thatit was an issue of love at its very definition. We all know that Godis love, right? The whole point of creation is rooted in love andrelationship. That's what he wanted out of us. That's why he createdus. But love by its very essence requires free will.

“It is the free willthat gives love value,” the man said.

There could be no reallove without the risk. And so as we face a cruel and hurtful world,we too must choose to take the risk if we are ever to experience thatwhich we are created to experience: love and relationship with Himand others.

Forgiveness is centralto both love and relationship. And therefore it is a criticalingredient in the Christian life.

Nobody ever saidforgiveness is easy. Some may argue that in certain circumstances itis unrealistic and unnatural. But maybe that's the point. To forgiveis such an antithesis to our nature that each act suggests somethingsupernatural in the spirit has occurred. And if it is supernaturalthen it is something we need not embark upon alone. We can place ourfrail, weak hand into the palm of God and ask him to walk us throughit.

Rowan Williams, theArchbishop of Canterbury, tells how one of the early church fathersexplained this passage: “He says it's a bit like teaching a childto do something. The parent does it carefully a few times, then stepsback and says, 'now you show me.' God forgives and then steps backand says, 'now you show me how to forgive.'”

The "Gimme" (give me) Part of Prayer

2011-10-27T10:30:00.000+02:00

"Give us this day our daily bread," Matt. 6:11

Finally! We get to the "gimme" part of the prayer. It's our favorite part, right? Isn't this the aspect of prayer we spend the most time on?

"Oh, God, please give me what I want!"

"Oohh Lord, please make this happen for me!"

And sometimes we are not totally selfish. We pray a good "gimme" prayer for those we care about:

"Lord, my friend has this problem and this is what you should do about it."

"Father, make this and that happen for my family."

I can only speak for myself, but I must admit that for most of my prayer life, my communications with the Father have resembled these templates and as I look at the Lord's prayer, I realize I have badly missed the mark. Even here, the section of the prayer reserved for request, my perspective has been all wrong.

The line starts with "Give us ..." Why does it not say, "Give me ..." Even in these few words, I have to make a bit of paradigm shift. There is a fundamental realization in the use of "us" over "me" that I am not the center of the universe. True, God loves me intimately and individually, but that does not mean he revolves his universe around "me". I need to pray with the "us" in mind. I need to pray with an understanding that other people have needs too and are affected by the events that occur on this earth -- both in the physical and the spiritual realm. I need to have a heart for them.

This is not to say that I should never pray for myself specifically. After all God is all about relationship. Relationship is at the core of His very nature, as the existence of the Trinity testifies. God is in relationship with Himself; that is His essence. And through Christ, He has invited us into relationship with Him.

Relationship is rooted in communication. So talking to God about "me" is a healthy part of that relationship. The point is not to loose sight of the "us" as we talk about the "me."

The next couple of words "this day" also give me pause. Why are we praying simply about "this day"? Why don't we just cover the whole week or the whole year? Why not our entire lifetime?

Maybe it's because we are talking about prayer and not an insurance policy.

Prayer, again, is about relationship. It's not a Harry Potter-styled incantation designed to bring about positive results if I assemble the right combination of words. It's not an insurance contract where we have to make sure everything is covered.

The Lord's prayer seems to assume that this conversation with God will happen at least daily.

This week I put in a wood laminate floor. As I put in the planks one after another, I would at times stop when I was a few rows away from a difficult area. I would just stand there and think about how I was going to cut a plank to fit perfectly at that difficult angle/corner. I was still several rows away from having to deal with it, but I wasted so much time just standing there thinking -- when it wasn't my problem, yet.

I tend to approach life the same way. I have to figure out the solutions to problems BEFORE they happen. And I waste a lot of time trying to sort out problems that are never as bad I think they will be.

God urges us in this prayer to "take one day at a time" to use an old cliche. Further on in this chapter Christ summed up the concept when he said, "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." (Matt 6:34)

Finally, the last words in this phrase, "our daily bread":

What is daily bread? Is it just our basic food? I would argue that it is all our basic needs. But how often do I really pray about my needs? I pray a lot about my wants and maybe a little about my needs, but only when I feel those needs are in jeopardy.

I don't pray so much about my basic needs because I think I've got them covered. I have food to eat and a nice place to live. I have heat, running water, and even a nice kitchen to cook in. It really never occurs to me to pray about these things. I don't even really pray about my basic spiritual needs. I take all this for granted.

But Christ is directing us through this prayer to pray for our daily needs. What's the point?

Perhaps, it's because by praying for these things we acknowledge that our Lord is giver of all good things. It is He, and not we ourselves, who provides for us. And in the face of managing our personal budgets, we tend to forget that. By praying for our needs, we recognize our dependence upon Him.

So there is good reason to pray for our daily needs.

Does that mean we should never bother God with our simple wants and desires? After all, He is God, isn't He too busy to bother with such frivolities?

Again, God is all about relationship. Just as I want my children to communicate with me about everything going on in their lives, so does God. When we open up the desires of our hearts to Him, we deepen our relationship with Him. Moreover, we open ourselves up to allowing him to refine those desires and sometimes He will even change them to the deeper desires we never knew we had.

There is a call to Christians woven into "Give us this day our daily bread." Through these few words, we are challenged to realize we are not center of God's universe. But rather, we are called to allow Him to be the center of ours.

Proverbs captures the paradigm with this prayer:

Keep falsehood and lies far from me;
give me neither poverty nor riches,
but give me only my daily bread.

Otherwise, I may have too much and disown you
and say, "Who is the LORD?"
Or I may become poor and steal,
And so dishonor the name of my God. Prov. 30:8-9

Kingdom Moments ... even in loss

2011-10-18T16:35:00.000+02:00

“Thy Kingdom Come ...Thy will be done” --Matt 6:10

“One of the orphanagekids committed suicide,” my husband told me after breakfast thismorning.

“Succeeded? Orattempted?” I responded, taken aback by the news.

“He's dead,” myhusband responded soberly.

There's an emptiness inthe pit of my stomach. I didn't know the kid, an older teen embarkingupon adulthood. When I looked at his photo, there was only a veryvague sense of familiarity. And yet the cold emptiness hangs in myinnermost being. He lived there – in those rooms where the hope ofthe Gospel was shared over and over again. He must've lingered justbeyond the fringes of all those outreaches and events where love andhope was shown in tangible ways.

Indeed the Kingdom ofGod was oh so “near” to him(Matt 10:7), practically “in hismidst.”(Luke 17:21). And yet, in his tragically short life, God'sKingdom of Love and Hope did not come. Clearly God's will was notdone.

So what do we do withthat?

We could sit around andbeat ourselves up with all the questions of “Why?”

Why did I not noticehim?

Why did I not do more?

Followed quickly by allthe “If onlys.”

If only I had known hissuffering …

If only I had reachedout further …

But there's a fundamental problem with this approach. Notice all the "I"s? It's all incredibly ME centered, suggesting that I am the center of God's universe and His workings somehow are limited to my frail abilities. It's really rather egotistical. And it serves only the purposes of the Evil One.

Instead we must turnour hearts and minds toward God and God alone, throw ourselves to ourknees and pour out our heart praying “Thy Kingdom Come!” Forthere are many more lives that still hang in the balance at theMiskolc orphanage and all around us every moment everyday.

“Thy Kingdom Come”What does it really mean? Are we fantasizing aboutpie-in-the-sky-by-and-by when we die?

No, I would argue thatwhen we pray this we are praying for something living and dynamic inthe here and now. For indeed, as Jesus said to the Pharisees in Luke17 “the Kingdom of God is in your midst.”

But this kingdom is not found inmanipulative schemes designed to get weak minds to pray “thesinners prayer.”

Neither is it found inthe spiritual bullying tactics employed by some evangelisticcampaigns.

It is rooted in Christand Christ alone. And if we really want His Kingdom to come, we muststart by rooting ourselves in Him. After all He is the King, right? And if He is our King, we need to start treating him like ourSovereign, placing all our faith and confidence in Him, not in ourabilities to make things happen for Him. His kingdom comes in andthrough us not when we do things for Him, but rather when we are rooted in Him and keep Him on the throne ofour lives. When we maintain that relationship, His kingdom flows from our lives to others. It is always humbling to learn one's most significant moments of ministry were when we were not even trying to minister at all. We were just being who we were created to be and abiding in Him.

So where is theKingdom? Indeed, it is in our midst, when we fully surrender to Him.It is in the fellowship of the saints. And when true worship occurs within thatfellowship, we experience Kingdom moments, glimpses into the Kingdomof God. In these places, we find strength and comfort even at a timelike this when the loss is so fresh, tragic and unnecessary.

So what does this meanfor an orphan boy who had lost all hope?

My heart grieves when Ithink of it. But I like to believe that maybe somewhere in thosedesperate last breaths, when the series of tragedies that made uphis life may have flashed before his eyes, Christ may have somehowmade himself known to this young man, this hurting child. I like tobelieve that might be possible because I know it is consistent with Christ'snature to love "the least of these" and through that love expand His Kingdom.

"What's in a name?"

2011-10-14T08:46:00.000+02:00

"Hallowed be Thy Name" -- Matthew 6:9

"What's in name?" Shakespeare penned in Romeo and Juliet.

To be truthful in our culture today, there's not that much in a name. You can name your kid pretty much anything and few people would raise an eyebrow to it. In our culture, names are but labels which help us distinguish one person from another. That's it.

But in Biblical times, a name meant much more. A name reflected something of the very essence of a person, a reflection of their character, and miniature snapshot of who they were. So when we come to this second line in the Lord's prayer, we need to keep this perspective in mind.

The first line brought us close to God as our father, a loving father, a good father who welcomes us with open arms and continually cradles us in the fullness of His fatherhood. The second line rounds out the image or gives us the other side of the same coin when it says, "hallowed by Thy name."

God is our intimate loving father, but he is also God (Jehova, YWHW, El Shaddai ...). Here we are called to take a step back and recognize how holy and sacred His name is -- to meditate a moment on our Lord's very character.

It is a moment of sheer and complete reverence where we gain perspective on who He is and who we are. And we should be a bit blown backward in awe.

Lord's Prayer in Greek from wikipedia

Have you ever been in awe -- really, genuinely in awe about anything? For me it was when I first came to Europe and could walk the streets where so much history took place, knowing the only thing that separated me for those climatic moments was time. As I spied bullet holes in Budapest buildings dating back to WWII and the 1956 revolution, it was both thrilling and terrifying. I felt so close to it. And it awed me. Yet that is a pale comparison to what my awe should be when I come into the presence of God.

The archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, described the purpose of this line well when he said, "Understand what you're taking about when you're talking about God. This is serious. This is the most wonderful and frightening reality that we could imagine, more wonderful and frightening than we can imagine."

To be honest, when I recite "The Lord's Prayer," I tend to skim over the "hallowed be Thy name" part with all the excitement of a dull yawn. I've missed the message of it, the fundamental lesson Christ was teaching through it when the disciples asked Him to teach them to pray.

Lord, awaken me the the proper awe due Your Name, as Your name is truly Your Essence.

Cradled in the Fullness of His Fatherhood

2011-10-12T10:41:00.000+02:00

"Our Father who art in Heaven ..." --Matt 6:9

I never thought a whole lot about the "father heart of God." I mean, it's a nice notion for me as I had a great Dad. It gives me warm and fuzzy feelings, but beyond that superficial sentiment, I really hadn't given it a lot of thought until recently.

While stranded on the east coast of the United States waiting for a flight back to Germany, we stayed with some dear friends who have and are weathering more than their share of difficulties. A couple months earlier they had celebrated the big news. They were becoming grandparents for the first time. But the days of joyous celebration were soon tempered by bigger news. Not long after their daughter announced she was expecting, her husband discovered he had cancer.

It was a severe blow to the young couple with so many hopes, dreams and plans laid out before them. Those images of nine exciting months of anticipation culminating in the emergence of precious life now took a back seat to the realities of surgery and regular chemo treatments. Her morning sickness and pregnancy weakness would be compounded by his chemo nausea and treatment recovery. And what would the final outcome be?

While we stayed in the house with our friends, a call came in one afternoon. Their daughter's husband had developed an infection at the surgery site and he was being rushed into surgery. A heaviness hung over the household. And it was there I saw the father heart of God manifested so clearly in human flesh.

Knowing his daughter's fear and anguish, this loving father could not eat nor socialize. His heart was too wrapped up in her hurts. He excused himself and took the dog for a walk. He needed to be alone with His Heavenly Father. Because his daughter hurt so deeply, he hurt too. Maybe not exactly in the same way. Maybe in a deeper, different way. But he cradled her hurts in the fullness of his fatherhood.

When he returned the phone rang with news we'd all prayed for. Everything was alright. They got the infection taken care of and the young husband was back on track in his healing process.

A wave of relief flowed over the household. And the loving father's whole demeanor changed. He joined us for dinner and could laugh and enjoy life again.

By witnessing this event, I was awakened to what the father heart of God is all about. A father does not simply cradle his child as an infant. He cradles his child every day of his/her life. He takes in to his deepest being every ache, every pain, every joy, accomplishment and celebration. He cradles that child's spirit in the crux of his own existence, because somehow those existences are inextricably linked.

That's what our Heavenly Father does for us. That's what "Our Father who art in Heaven ..." is all about.

So the next time you are reciting the Lord's Prayer and you open up with those words "Our Father," take a moment to remember my friend and know that your Heavenly father aches with you and celebrates with you -- only more so, much, much more so.

My Habit of Inappropriate Prayer

2011-10-11T10:33:00.001+02:00

"Lord, teach us to pray," Luke 11:1

Over the past several months, I've been considering the Lord's prayer like never before. Those of us who grew up in Church have had those words memorized since childhood and the prayer has become so familiar to us that when recited in service, we tend to mouth it without really considering its meaning.

At least that's how it was for me, until recently when I become awakened to a whole new perspective on the prayer. And as a result I became convicted of how inappropriately I pray.

The disciples asked Christ to teach them how to pray. He responded by giving them what we call today "The Lord's Prayer" or the "Our Father."

Just an overview of the prayer's structure is eyeopening.

Consider the parts:

1. Recognizing who God is and His holiness
2. Longing for and desiring the accomplishment of God's purposes -- Recognizing the primary importance of God's purposes
3. Requests for my needs
4. Recognizing my need for forgiveness and my need to be transformed so that I can forgive others
5. Acknowledging my weakness, frailty and proclivity to return to sin and requesting deliverance.
6. Proclaiming God's sovereignty and eternal nature.

From this general breakdown, I noticed

50 percent of the prayer focuses on God, who He is and His purposes
One-third of the prayer is dedicated to acknowledging my frailty and requesting that God continue His transformation of me.
And only one-sixth (16.67 percent) is allotted to my personal request for my needs. Note: needs not frivolous desires.

If I took an honest look at my own standard prayers. The statistics would not stack up the same. It would look something like this:

Maybe 10-15 percent acknowledging, celebrating who God is.
40 percent telling God how to handle my family and friends problems (Give them this! Make this happen!)
40 percent telling God how to handle my problems (Give me that! Make that happen!)
And about 5-10 percent on seeking the furtherance of God's purposes.

Those are some sad statistics -- especially for someone who is supposed to be a missionary, right?

So maybe its time for me to give my prayer life an overhall, starting by taking a hard look at how Christ himself taught us to pray. I intend to do this over a series of blog entries beginning with this one. And maybe through this process the old liturgy of "Our Father" will breath new life into a prayer life that has fallen all too flat.

Imperfect Homecoming

2011-10-07T15:47:00.000+02:00

"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair;" -- 2 Corinthians 4:8

"Be careful what you pray for," the old adage goes, "you just might get it."

For the last month we have desperately prayed that we could just get home. With heavy hearts, we were deferred flight after flight to the point we wondered if we would ever make it back home to Hungary. We literally wandered from Airbase to Airbase up and down the east coast desperately seeking a flight. Finally, a week ago today, the girls and I boarded American Airlines flight 70 and made it to Germany where Russ and Levi (who had flown in earlier that week) picked us up and after a little rest we embarked on the 13 hour drive home.

Ahhh, we breathed a sigh of relief to be back in our village. But the sigh was short lived. Not only did we return to a dead dog (which, thankfully, a neighbor had buried), within the first few days we were barraged with all the irritations we had forgotten about life in Hungary.

1. Our car's registration had expired so we cannot drive it and are waiting to go pay the fine (an undisclosed amount). Keep in mind they send no notification to car owners about this. Each car owner must remember to re-register his car every two years or so. We await our day in court.

2. The gas company tried to turn off our gas two days AFTER we had paid all the late bills. It took a special trip with a translator to the gas company's main office (payment receipts in hand) to defer the looming shut down.

3. After buying curricula and preparing to homeschool Niki, we arrived at school to learn they had set up a new special ed program in the Mikepercsi school. Niki was expected to go to her new special, smaller class and stay all day at school. Upon visiting the class, I discovered that the school does not differentiate between learning problems and behavior problems, so now Niki is stuck in a class, the only girl, with the 10 biggest trouble makers in the 1st-4th grade. There will be more to come as I work out these issues with the school.

All this while fighting jetlag and trying to remember Hungarian.

So this is what we prayed so hard to come to?

Even though our hearts sink when the dogs run to greet us and Blacky is all to obviously absent... And even though the station wagon sits undriveable until we navigate the bureaucracy, reregister the car and pay the fine ... and even though we have many agonizing meetings ahead as we sort out how Niki should be schooled, we can still somehow be thankful because after two and a half months away, the Chuns are home. Indeed "we are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair."

It's not the "welcome home" that I'd hoped for. I thought we had already done the "overcoming" of great obstacles, and now we were poised for our "happily ever after." But real life does not work out as neatly as Disney movies. In real life, it seems overcoming one set of obstacles only prepares us for the next.

But there is a joy in the journey.

And so when I look out our back window and see crimson sunset blaze the sky, silhouetting the quaint village rooftops, it reminds me of the opening of Fiddler on the Roof, and I can genuinely say, "It's good to be home."

Lessons Learned in Stasis

2011-10-05T12:49:00.004+02:00

Miracle of Miracles the Chun family is finally home -- after a full month of failed attempts.

But there were many lessons to learn while we waited -- lessons taught to us gently by our Heavenly Father through the lives of those who shared our lives during this season.

Here's an overview of my lessons learned.

From Mom: The self-sacrifice of caregiving, the evidence of true love.

From Dad: Tenacity and determination (laced with orneriness and humor) to overcome the odds in recovery.

From my brother Jay: An amazing ability to overcome what others would write off as "impossible" or "not worth it" with practical know-how and ingenuity.

From Carole: An insatiable spirit of hospitality and servanthood, even when the guests unexpectedly stay a whole month!

From Dave: a clear reflection of the father heart of God.

From Nancy: delight in sacrificial giving.

From Susil, Lidia, and Kara and all those who helped with the dogs and house: the willingness to endure inconvenience in order to help a friend in need.

There were hundreds of lessons rooted in these headlines, but this is the overview. Now it's back to the grindstone in Hungary. We are blessed to be here.

In Stasis

2011-09-16T02:15:00.006+02:00

I have not written for a long time on this blog largely because I've been on an epic journey. It wasn't supposed to be an epic journey -- just a jaunt for a few weeks to visit my folks in Texas. But now we've been gone from Hungary since July 20th. And our adventure of military "space available" travel has taken us from Ramstein, Germany, through Trier, off to Washington State, on to Texas, to Delaware where we sought flights to Germany then moved on to Maryland, DC, Northern Virginia, then to New Jersey, only to return to Washington DC and wait for flights. The bottom line is that we cannot seem to get a flight back to Europe.

It is a time of much angst, aggravation, and frustration. And while we have been trapped in the USA, our car's registration (in Hungary) expired, the school year started without us, and our dog died.

Our lifestyle now is simply a series of fruitless, endless hours at airports up and down the eastern seaboard, waiting for the ever evasive flight we can never get a seat on. We feel helpless and sort of in a state of stasis -- a period of life when nothing seems productive and one just exists.

But I guess such periods in life are a natural part of the Christian life. I guess we tend to think the Christian life should be all about those periods of intense ministry or spiritual epiphanies. But those years that feel more like stasis are a real part of the Christian life. We are frustrated as we seem to just be spinning our wheels and going nowhere.

But if you, like me, have ever felt like you are in stasis, we are not alone. Consider the apostle Paul who spent about 14 "unknown" years of his Christian life doing nothing recorded before beginning ministry. Even Jesus himself did not rush into ministry at the moment he hit adulthood. He started at age 30.

Those periods of waiting are no fun, but that does not mean they are not productive.

Although enjoying friends' generosity and hospitality, I find myself in one of the places I really do not want to be. I want to be home. I need to be home. I want to serve God THERE! So why won't He let me go!

Because apparently I need to be here in stasis. And although it may feel like stasis, it really isn't. It is an opportunity for me to let God call the shots, even when it is incredibly inconvenient and periodically a bit uncomfortable for me.

It is an opportunity to say, "Yes, God," regardless of what He asks me to walk through. It is an opportunity to release control of my life, which I never really had control of anyhow.

And so we wait and try to catch a flight, again and again. I know someday we will get back, I'm sure. Until then it's time to make the most of the moment wherever I am and submit to His greater plan, knowing that -- however inconvenient, it is the best plan in the grand scheme.

Radio Interview

2011-06-16T10:04:00.002+02:00

Recently I had the pleasure of being a guest on Christian Devotions Speak Up America. Here is the broadcast.

The Ultimate "Aha!" Moment

2011-06-09T10:44:00.004+02:00

"We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We'll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us!" 1 Corinthians 13:12 (The Message)

The elderly Hungarian man stepped off the tram. Releasing a deep sigh he looked at the maze of buildings that made up the medical center. It was a sober day. He had made his choice and he was determined to go through with it.

He navigated his way through the labyrinth of old buildings until he found the right place. He stopped a nurse in the hallway and told her why he was there.

"Just sit down and wait," the nurse said. "I'll get the paperwork to sign you up as an organ donor."

Time passed slowly as it always does within the walls of medical bureaucracy. But in time, he got all the paperwork filled out, and he felt good about it. After the last page was signed, the nurse turned to the old man and told him he was finished and he could go home now.

"Go home?" The old man's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"You're done with the paperwork, you can go home," the nurse explained.

"But I came here to donate my organs!" The old man protested. "I ate the last bit of food in my apartment this morning. I spent the last of this month's pension check on the tram ticket to get here!"

The nurse, clearly taken aback by the man's misunderstanding of how the organ donor program works, quickly called the doctor over. An education of organ donation proceeded, and the doctor paid for taxi to get the old man home.

This true story might make some of us laugh at the old man's simplicity. He had absolutely no grasp of how things worked. It was really beyond his comprehension and life experience. He took the information he had and staked everything on his understanding -- never considering for a moment that there might be more to it than that.

We laugh, but are we really so different from this old man?

So often we approach Christianity in much the same way that this man approached organ donation. We take what we know to be true (what we understand from God's Word) and act like we've cornered the market on spiritual knowledge -- and we bank on it, regardless of who we may hurt in the process.

We saw it most recently when self-proclaimed prophets predicted doom and gloom to descend on May 21. Many banked it all on that prediction. They were willing to sacrifice jobs and homes to be a part of this event -- the end of the world!

And let's face it they weren't totally wrong. After all, we know the world will one day end. And Christ will return. They were at least right about these facts. But none of them were willing to consider that the ways of God might be beyond their understanding in this matter and therefore the prediction might be wrong.

In less dramatic ways, we all have our dogmatic beliefs. Some are truly fundamental and foundational Christianity -- and are clearly laid out in Scripture. Those we should bank on and stand strong, unwavering. But many other beliefs are the product of the facts we've gathered from the Word mixed with our limited experience and cultural bias.

Yet we bank on them as if we have full understanding of the ways of God -- often leading to our own disillusionment. We are not so different from the old man who thought he was doing the greatest of deeds, only to end up going back to an empty home alone.

Oswald Chambers commented, "The counterfeit of obedience is a state of mind in which you create your own opportunities to sacrifice yourself."

True obedience doesn't require whole understanding. Self-appointed martyrdom is rooted in misunderstanding and ultimately leads to disillusionment.

Have you felt a bit disillusioned in your faith lately? Feel like God let you down in some area? Maybe like the old man, limited by your own experiences and cultural bias, you've misunderstood how the ways of God work. After all, "we don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. ..."

But take heart. It won't always be so confusing. At the end of time when all is said and done, the blinders will fall off and we will all have an amazing "aha!" moment. And I dare say, we may all be a little ashamed about how dogmatic we were about things for which we had no real understanding.

Good vs. Easy

2011-05-18T08:25:00.003+02:00

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." --Romans 8:28

That's a standard verse we use to assure ourselves and others that "everything will be all right." But there are times where everything does not turn out all right. Life remains hard. Our losses are so deep. Pressures multiply. Life grows more complicated, and one cannot help but wonder, "Where's that 'good' we were promised?"

But are we genuinely looking for "good" or do we really just want "easy."

When we decided to adopt our son, the various social service officials that we dealt with in the process raised their eyebrows when they learned all our kids would be the same age. They'd sigh and say, "This won't be easy."

Are the most significant things in our lives necessarily easy?

And yet, "easy" is what we long for in the modern age. After all, we have machines to wash our clothes and our dishes. We have microwaves and crockpots for maximum ease in food preparation. We have countless cleaning gadgets and products to make life's menial tasks simpler.

We have come to believe the terms "good" and "easy" are synonymous. And it has infected all aspects of our lives, including the way we pray. Think about it. How do we approach God in prayer. What do we ask for -- both for ourselves and others? Our prayer requests focus little on our character development and more on telling God what to do to make our lives easier.

Oswald Chambers warned of this tendency in his day: "Beware of thinking that intercession means bringing our own personal sympathies and concerns into the presence of God and then demanding that He do whatever we ask."

Indeed, we pray that God would make something happen. We pray that God would not let something happen. We give Him our list of demands. Tell him how to solve our problems and everyone else's.

What happened to the the humble prayer of "thy kingdom come, THY will be done"?

God's will for our lives and this world is the ultimate good. And if He is after your best interest, life probably won't be easy. But that doesn't mean it won't be good. Think about the most beautiful testimonies or life stories you've ever read or heard? Were they stories of "an easy life" or stories of a relationship with God forged through hardships and suffering?

To pursue "the good life" is to seek relationship with God.

This is our primarily calling. THIS is what we were created for!

If we can grasp this fundamental concept, then we can stop approaching prayer as some cosmic tool we use to try to control the circumstances beyond our control. And maybe we can let prayer be what it was meant to be: a vehicle for building relationship with our Lord, a tool for letting Him change us.

Maybe then, we will be able to let go of our demands for an easier life and genuinely commune with God in the spirit of: "THY will be done."

Entrampment!

2011-03-09T13:47:00.006+01:00

When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom. -- Proverbs 11:2

I received the registered letter in the mail and knew immediately what it was -- a speeding ticket. I couldn't imagine where we could have possibly been speeding. We are so careful when we drive through Tiszaujvaros where the speed trap whacked us with two 30,000 forint fines ($150) last summer.

I opened the letter and scanned the Hungarian for time and location: Mikepercsi u. 80. I knew the road well as it is the main thoroughfare connecting Mikepercs with Debrecen. The letter claimed we were traveling 68km/h in a 50km/h zone. But that road has a speed limit of 60 all the way into the city. We've lived here six years and its always been that way. Clearly, there had to be some mistake.

As I drove into Debrecen, I watched closely to read ALL the speed limit signs. As I entered the outer limits of Debrecen, 60km/h signs flashed by about every 50 meters. And then right at an intersection where motorists are likely to be focused on the traffic light and may speed up to get through it in time. THERE. Right there! They changed the speed limit to 50km/h. And maybe 20 meters past the new sign, there was the unmarked cop car taking photos of unsuspecting motorists.

I saw the police officer's hunched over silhouette through the car's tinted windows. I could sense the smug, self-satisfied smirk on his masochistic face as the camera clicked again and again and he savored the financial distress he inflicted on the common masses.

Then, not much further down the road a speed limit sign of 60km/h again appeared.

It was entrapment, pure and simple.

How dare the Hungarian police bully us around like this!!!!!!

Who do they think they are?

My blood boiled as all the "American" in me lashed out in defense of MY RIGHTS!

"This would never stand in America! What a racket!" I ranted. I wanted to write letters to the editor, file complaints at city hall.

I deserve better than this!!!!!

I think, many times, I have a tendency to approach the Christian life in like manner. I believe that as a Christian I have certain rights and a fundamental one is to be justly treated. And so when things go awry and everything does not turn out okay, I lash out demanding MY RIGHTS.

But Christianity is not America and there is no Bill of Rights in the Kingdom of God.

And it is not our place to tell God how to run things. Fundamentally, it is my pride that drives me into these rantings. I have certain expectations. I deserve better than what God has seen fit to give me right now. I must therefore know better than God.

Hence, the arrogant Christian is again born in my flesh.

I must grasp the concept that Christianity is not about rights, but about surrender, believing that there is a bigger picture, a better purpose than what I can see right now -- even the face the police photo "proving" our guilt of alleged "speeding."

The Critical Ingredient

2011-03-03T11:01:00.004+01:00

"By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another" -- John 13:35

I like to bake. Sometimes I go on baking binges, continuously making my favorite treats for friends and families. One year the recipe of choice was Hawaiian sweet bread.

I made loaf after loaf and became so good at it that I did not need the recipe. One day, in the midst of constant distractions and interruptions I tried to make a loaf. It wasn't until I tasted it that I realized that I forgot to add the sugar.

As you may suspect, "sweetbread" without sugar can no longer be called sweetbread, and in this case, it could hardly be called bread at all. I had removed the essential ingredient -- that through which the bread was defined.

Here in Hungary, the word for "sugar" and "candy" are exactly the same word: "cukor." It makes perfect sense because, after all, what is candy but straight sugar with a little coloring and packaging added.

So the pressing question for me, in the spirit of reaping lessons from everyday life, is: What is my essential ingredient? What is the fundamental characteristic in me that defines who I am?

Probably for most of us it is more than one thing. It's a pound/kilo of what we've accomplished mixed with an equal amount of what we are good at added to the relationships we have with family, friends, and especially romantic attachments.

But this verse from John 13 defines exactly what our essential ingredient should be. The characteristic that defines us as Christians should simply be "love."

If we do not love, and love well, we are like my sweetbread without sugar -- a big, hard lump of flour that only makes the world twist up their faces in disgust. Without love, we are like candy without sugar -- just hollow packaging with no purpose.

Jesus asked Peter in John 21, "Do you love me?" It is a question worth posing to ourselves, bearing in mind that loving Christ with agape love goes much further than how we respond to Him.

"Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For whoever does not love their brother and sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen." --1 John 4:20

Maybe today is a good day to take inventory. By what characteristic is your life defined? What is your essential ingredient?

The Arrogant Christian Paradox

2011-02-22T10:06:00.004+01:00

"...He will beautify the humble with salvation." --Psalm 149:4

A couple weeks ago my father was in a car accident. He is relatively okay. I mean, it could have been much worse. But when a 78 year old man sustains a whole series of broken bones, injuries and contusions, recovery does not come quickly. We expect recovery to be at least a four month long process. And I, being half a world away, can do little to help.

I get updates from my mom and brother. And it seems the docs have him on some serious pain medication that messes with his brain -- alters his perceptions of reality. He insists that the television is floating off its stand or that the nurses are "out to get him." It's interesting to me how a person's eyes and ears can be working quite correctly and yet somewhere between where they take in information and where the brain interprets that information, something gets skewed.

It's kind of like sin. Reality exists. Our senses take it in, but because we are tainted by sin, we have a hard time interpreting reality correctly. It all gets skewed and as a result we see things NOT as they really are.

As a result, we sometimes mistake arrogance for confidence and insecurity for humility.

I have lately been struck by the value God places on humility. Over and over again in Scripture, we find examples of how God takes pleasure in the humble. We are exhorted to humble ourselves before God that He might lift us up.

Why is humility so important to God? Maybe it's because salvation is impossible without it. Consider the reality: if our salvation is rooted fully and completely in Christ and His sacrifice, then we, in coming into His salvation, must give up all ideals of self-sufficiency. We must surrender every ounce of pride in our own goodness, and we must confess our utter wretchedness and inability to do anything about it. In short, salvation fundamentally requires humility on the deepest soulish levels.

But if we back up a moment, we'd see that humility is not something one works toward or accomplishes. Humility is quite simply seeing things the way they are -- without that drug of sin skewing our perceptions.

He is God wholly good and wholly powerful -- the very creator of all things in existence. We are frail, feeble, unattractive creatures bent on self, be it self-promotion or self flagellation.

Therefore, there is something fundamentally contradictory about the arrogant Christian.

Feeling smug and self-satisfied today? Feeling sorry for yourself and insecure? Either way, your perspective has been skewed by the drug of sin. You, like my dad on his pain medication, are seeing the television floating in the air.

Let's take some time today to ask God to help to see things the way they really are and embrace the beauty of godly humility.

Love is not Selfish ...

2011-01-31T10:05:00.004+01:00

"This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters." -- 1John 3:16

Last week American Idol hopeful Chris Medina won the hearts of millions not with his dazzling vocals, but with his story of love and commitment. In 2009, two months before his scheduled wedding, his fiance was critically injured in a car accident. She suffered a traumatic brain injury.

"I was about to make vows just two months from the accident -- through thick and thin, 'til death do us part, for better or worse," he said in an interview. "What kind of guy would I be if I walked out when she needed me the most?"

As we learn of Chris' story, we watch in awe. His level of true commitment, devotion, and unadulterated unselfishness leaves us breathless. But perhaps the most telling part of the story is not Chris' actions, but our response.

In a society that rhapsodizes about "love" in everything from the biggest hits in every genre of music to the hottest movies to best selling books, we really don't get what love is.

We've redefined love to cater to our own pleasures and desires. We've made it all about ME! And we've forgotten what our God has taught us -- that love is sacrifice. It is laying down one's life for another. It is not about getting your needs fulfilled but about giving up your own comfort for another person's good.

Chris Medina has quite simply demonstrated true love. It is a choice he is making each day. And one I hope he continues to make.

Are you longing for love? Then take a honest look at Chris' story. His situation is not one any of us would ever choose. But if God saw fit to require it of us, would we be able to love well? It is not question I want to answer, because I fear I would fail, though I pray God would grant me the grace to walk faithfully through it.

Our ultimate example, our Lord Jesus Christ, demonstrated it so long ago when He laid down His life for us. But since we've heard it in church since childhood, sometimes it seems to have lost its luster. If we can get teary eyed in the face of Chris' demonstration to true love, why can't the idea of God Himself giving His very son still stir us inside?

As February approaches and Valentine's day emerges on the horizon, instead of buying chocolates and roses (or gagging at those who do), we would do well to ask God to help us learn to live out true love -- by His definition.

Sharp Surrender

2011-01-27T09:31:00.003+01:00

"I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want." --Philippians 4:12

"There's always something," my husband sighed as our three children shouted at each other in a language we could not understand. After months and months of fighting to get Levi, now he's ours and the period of "adjustment" is in full swing. Levi was new and exciting when he came to visit us each weekend. But now he's just an annoying brother.

"Why do we always get the annoying ones?" my biological daughter, Andi, asked as I put her to bed last night, exasperated with both her siblings. Five months ago when the brakes had been put on our adoption process by an unsupportive psychologist in Budapest, this same little girl looked at me with anguish in her eyes and asked, "What if they don't let us have Levi?"

We are never satisfied, are we? There's always something.

We tend to our lives filled with the phrase, "If only ..." You can fill in the blank.

If only I had more money...

If only I had a car...

If only I were married...

If only I had children...

If only I had a better husband/wife...

If only I had smarter children...

If only I had a better car ...

If only I could lose weight...

If only I were better looking...

...then I would be content/happy.

Really? I doubt it.

Because if we live the "if only" lifestyle, there will always be something else -- just out of our reach.

We frail, pathetic human creatures seek our completeness in the things of this world. AND some of those things are truly good and legitimate requests we can make of God. But these things are not God and therefore will never give us the "completeness" we seek. And God is under no obligation to give them to us.

So often we approach God as if He owes us. After all, He's provided those things to so many others. Why not ME?!

And so instead of coming to Him recognizing who He is and who we are, we selfishly demand things of God, telling Him that "if only" he will give us this one thing, THEN we will be good and content Christians.

I believe contentment is deeply connected to surrender. I remember growing up in Church hearing songs that rhapsodized over "sweet surrender." But that may be a misnomer.

Surrender is tough when it is genuine. It involves loss, a death of sorts. It is a death to the self and all the expectations and rights we deem our own. And on the outset there is nothing sweet about it. It's more like sour or spicy hot, piquant, bitter or sharp. It is uncomfortable and goes against our nature.

And yet, surrender is the centerpiece of the Christian life.

We call Him Lord. And yet readily tell him NO!

Think about that. There is some fundamental contradiction in the statement "No, Lord." If He is TRULY our LORD, then we can only say, "yes." If we say "no" then He is not truly our Lord.

So this brings us back to the places of discontent in our lives. If God chooses to never give you any of your "if onlys", would you still be able to say, "Yes, Lord"?

After all, a place of discontent may very well be little more than a place unsurrendered.

Cross Cultural Cornucopia

2011-01-14T10:18:00.013+01:00

"After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands." --Revelation 7:9

There was milk, and there was wine. Saaris and Csizma. It was a night where Bollywood meets csarda dancing and Hungarian, English and Malayalam merged into the universal language of laughter. When a Hungarian girl marries an Indian boy (from America) the cultures collide into a cornucopia of beauty and splendor this gives us all a little glimpse of Heaven.

I've always believed that in

each and every culture on Earth, God has infused a bit of Himself -- something that reflects His glory. After all, if He created man in His image, how could it be otherwise?

So when cultures come together and maybe a little savory masala mixes with potent paprika sprinkled with a little American salt (and a pinch of Chinese parsley), the result is a scrumptious combination that can potentially draw us closer into the courts of Heaven.

And for me this wedding did just that. From Suja, the groom's sister who beams with the glory of God in all she does to Sunil who knows how to make sure everyone has a good time, to Luca the Hungarian choreographer of the Bollywood-styled wedding dance, to Gigi who inspires all with her eye for design and gentle spirit. Cultures came together seamlessly as women in Saaris joined Hungarian folk dancers for a few boot-slapping steps. And the bride and groom? Well, the picture says it all!

If we frail creatures can create such a beautiful night of celebration by combining several cultures, just imagine what the wedding feast of the Lamb will look like one day -- when God brings the best of all cultures of the world together and we celebrate our union with Him!

Egészségedre! Cheers! Prost! Salute! Skål! Noroc! Chia!

Oogy wawa! Lechaym! Ziveo! Budmo! Saliginiza! Choc-tee! Na zdravie! Minum! Hipahipa! It will all be just one big party. And I'm looking forward to it!

The Jeopardy of Good Things

2011-01-11T09:33:00.006+01:00

But Samuel replied: “Does the LORD delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices as much as in obeying the LORD? To obey is better than sacrifice, and to heed is better than the fat of rams." -1 Sam 15:22

"Niki! Put on your boots and coat!" I raised my voice as this was the third time I'd had to say it.

Niki danced around, in that rose-colored Niki way, and immediately noticed that a candle was still burning on the table. She stopped and gazed at it, fascinated by its golden glow. Then puff, she blew it out.

"Niki!" I snapped. "Your coat!"

We had planned to go to the toy store so that she and her brother and sister could buy a toy with the money they had earned working around the house over Christmas break. Her brother and sister stood bundled by the door patiently waiting, but Niki remained in her own little world.

She spun around and danced toward the door -- in no particular hurry -- and suddenly noticed that music was playing. Skipping over to the stereo she punched some buttons.

"Niki!" Now my voice had reached an all-out bellow. "Why are your coat and boots not on your body?!"

Again she started toward the door, but some light had not been turned out so her path once again was diverted as she tried to be "helpful" and flip the switch.

"NIKI!!!!!!! WHY CAN'T YOU DO AS YOU ARE TOLD?!!!!"

I had reached to point of sheer exasperation. I wondered if we'd ever make it out the door. Why is simple obedience soooo difficult!?

And then it hit me. It was one of those "ah ha" moments when God taps me on the shoulder and says, "She reminds me of you."

Forever focusing on doing good things. And all those good things distract me from simply obeying. As a result I jeopardize the best thing -- that wonderful treasure God has in store if I'd simply obey.

"To obey is better than sacrifice" Samuel says. Funny we all think we'd be willing to be the martyr -- make the greatest sacrifice -- yet we cannot manage to listen to God and simply obey this moment today.

Christmas Movie

2011-01-03T15:39:00.002+01:00

In the spirit of the classic Church Christmas Pageant, our kids class at Calvary Chapel Debrecen created a Christmas film for this year's celebration. I'm a little late in posting it, but better late than never.

Adjustments

2011-01-02T19:49:00.004+01:00

Levi is now with us and the Chun family is swirling headlong into the vast vortex of adjustments. From the parents perspective, we've moved from the standard "man-to-man" defense possible with two children to the trickier "zone" defense as we two frail, feeble humans try to decifer, discern, and meet the needs of each of our three kids.

Even though Niki has been with us for fully four years, we see her slip back in orphanage behaviors in the face of new competition for attention. And Levi has much to learn about the rules of the Chun house and how we expect him to relate to his sisters and us.

Andi, our biological daughter, probably has the toughest job of all. She's been in the family the longest. She knows the rules, how things work, and pretty much tries to do the right thing. But when the other two are snapping at each other or trying to get away with something, she finds herself caught in the crossfire.

Family adjustments are tricky business. But it is a business not simply for the adoptive family. It is also the business of the Church. After all, who is the Church but the "family of God"? And who are each one of us, if we are not part of that family through adoption? (Romans 8:15)

The business of family adjustments is essentially discipleship, a gentle retraining in the way we respond to others both inside and outside the family unit. It is all about relationship. We sit down with each of our children and teach how to respond to conflicts with each other, how to express their needs to us, and how live as responsible, loving human beings. We strive to teach them to love well. But these lessons are not learned quickly by children who have faced so much pain. And to be honest, it is incredibly exhausting for the family as a whole.

So also any church who is fulfilling the great commission and truly making disciples is faced with the constant, awkward, exhausting job of retraining people (some of whom, like adopted kids, are not so eager to be retrained despite their salvation/adoption experience). Those in the church who have been in the family of God the longest, like Andi, may sometimes find themselves caught in the crossfire, struggling to be the example and taking on responsibility you really never asked for. Others, like Niki, may feel threatened by the newcomers and may well serve more as a bad example than a good one. Still wherever we fall in the spectrum, we are called to disciple -- despite our deficiencies. Funny how God set that up.

So as the Chun family seeks to readjust and disciple these precious ones God has placed in our care, we find ourselves as parents being discipled in the process too. We catch glimpses of how much patience, longsuffering, and true love the God of Heaven must have for us, frail feeble wounded souls to be willing to adopt us in His family regardless of the required adjustments.

GOTCHA in time for Christmas

2010-12-24T07:22:00.003+01:00

On December 16, we made the trek all the way to Ozd on Hungary's border with Slovakia -- Levi's birthplace to make him ours. On that day we began the "30 day trial" which begins our forever with Levi as our son.

In the days that followed his English began exploding. "Good Job, Mommy! Good Job Daddy!" he says at every turn.

We are thankful to have our son this Christmas -- joining his two sisters to celebrate the birth of Christ. Good Job, God!

The Point of Honest Prayer

2010-12-06T09:15:00.008+01:00

The concept of prayer conjures up all kind of images in our minds. For some it's all fancy language, an assortment of "thees" and "thous" woven neatly into overly ornate language to create some sort of melody of splendor.

For others, it is all yawns and distraction -- a boring conclusion to a stilted, antiquated church service. For still others it's like visiting Santa Clause, a time when we climb into the Almighty's lap to seek His comforting touch and deluge Him with a long list of "give mes" not so different from the spoiled child at Christmastime.

C.S. Lewis argues that if this is how we approach prayer, we've missed the point. "Prayer in the sense of petition, asking for things, is a small part of it;" he wrote. "Confession and penitence are its threshold, adoration its sanctuary, the presence and vision and enjoyment of God its bread and wine."

Even in the "asking for things" part of prayer, I think we often miss the point. The Bible in 1John 5:14 points out: "This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us." And while we may quote this verse like child's play, we so rarely take time to discover what God's will is in a particular situation. We pray according to our will. If someone is sick, we pray for physical healing of the ailment. If someone is mourning, we pray for restoration. If someone is in need, we pray for abundance. If someone wants something we pray that they get it. It has become our formula for modern prayer.

George Mueller, the famous builder of orphanages, had a different perspective on it. "I seek at the beginning to get my heart into such a state that it has no will of its own in regard to a given matter," he wrote. "Nine-tenths of the difficulties are overcome when our hearts are ready to do the Lord's will, whatever it may be. When one is truly in this state, it is usually but a little way to the knowledge of what His will is."

It was his place of letting go of all his preconceptions -- laying his own wisdom on the altar, so that he could explore and discover God's will. When was the last time any of us approached prayer with this first step?

But prayer must be honest, not for God's sake but for ours. After all, God already knows what's in our innermost parts. We only delude ourselves when we pray,"Your will be done" and all the while work to manipulate our own will in a situation.

"We must lay before him what is in us, not what ought to be in us," CS Lewis exhorts. And that which is in us is often quite ugly. But to honestly lay before God where we are in a situation opens the door to a deeper prayer -- one in which we invite God to change us and align our will with His. Whether it's anger or grief, frustration or elation; whether the emotions are Godly or sinful, we need to be honest with God and in doing so, we are actually being honest with ourselves as God already knows exactly where we were in relation to the circumstance at hand.

And so I come to this meditation on prayer with much in my life to pray about: an adoption that seems to be moving NOWHERE fast, one daughter who cannot seem to recover from a fever/cough, the other daughter with a "suspicious" black mole that will have to be surgically removed just before Christmas, a precious dear friend diagnosed with terminal cancer, and an injured back leaving me incapacitated for the time being. Meanwhile the Christmas season rolls forward.

Can I just lay it all on the altar and truly, as George Mueller put it, "get my heart into such a state that it has no will of its own in regard to" these matters? It is an exercise in personal discipline not just up and tell God exactly what to do in all these matters, but rather to truly seek Him and in doing so allow him to work Himself in me and all these concerns.

After all, there is a bigger point to prayer than our long list of "give mes."

Oswald Chambers put it well when he wrote: "We look upon prayer as a means of getting things for ourselves; The Bible idea of prayer is that we may get to know God Himself."

Love&Ashes has been released

2010-11-17T22:58:00.005+01:00

My book has finally been released. Watch the trailer below. Love&Ashes: A Bible Study of Love, Loss, and Ultimate Romance is available through www.loveandashes.com or amazon.com

Unsung Hero

2010-11-08T17:55:00.004+01:00

“Make Me Salt, Make Me Light” the verses of the song twirl through my mind, in the wake of my latest visit to Germany for the Protestant Women of the Chapel's “Worship and Study” Conference, I return exhausted and encouraged, having forged new friendships, learned and grown.

As I spent time with all these military wives, it brought back so many memories of what it was like to be in their shoes. Memories of war and deployment, absent husband, and the harried life they face each day.

While I participated in fun and fellowship, I could not shake a memory from another era in my life. The memory of refugee woman named Eliza whom I met during the Kosovo conflict in 1999 when I was doing refugee relief work in Macedonia.

She was a remarkable woman who fled her homeland with her four children. No husband. No explanation as to where he was or what happened to him. People get lost in war. Her greatest hope and dream had nothing to do with her own security. She wished to build a church in her hometown – not one of spires like the orthodox nor one with domes like the mosques. She wanted true Christianity in Kosovo.

And so she crocheted doilies to raise money to this end. She will always be one of my heroes, an unsung hero. For on the day I left Macedonia, she said she'd pray for me. And that shook me to the core. It is a truly remarkable thing when someone who stands in a place of genuine suffering can care for the needs of others.

The women of this PWOC have something in common with Eliza. For in these tenuous times, it's tough to be a military wife. The level of stress with constant deployments and cross cultural living is almost incomprehensible. And yet they go on each day. Choosing not simply to survive but to look outside their hard places and reach out to minister to the needs of others around them. It is truly remarkable.

They are the unsung heroes of the Iraqi war. And although no medals of valor will ever decorate their chest, they still walk faithfully through whatever God has called them to walk through.

Over the course of this trip I penned this poem. And although it is the story of Eliza, the refugee from Kosovo, it is dedicated to these amazing women of valor around the world who know how to walk faithfully and fruitfully, especially in the dark and hard places.

Unsung Hero

“She walks in beauty like the night,”

Lord Byron penned so long ago

Words on paper brought to life

in a refugee from Kosovo

She walked with masses, wounded, worn

Her four children walked in tow

Absent husband, Doubtful future

Hope deferred in war's harsh glow.

In the twilight, they came stumbling

down a dusty Balkan road

to a mud-walled, one-room dwelling

which would serve as safe abode.

She had nothing. She had a smile

and fingers that danced ov'r silken lace

She sold her wares not for herself

But to build a future, a better place.

In a land where Mosque and Steeple

Clash in cancerous catastrophe

She prayed her death-damaged homeland

Could receive Christianity

She walked in hope through life's bleak valley

She walked with joy, hospitality

She gave her all when she had nothing

Facing fear, fatality

Her children knew too much of landmines

terror, inhumanity

Still she walked in graceful courage

through wartime vanquished sanity

In the wake of devastation

as conflicts fade in evening hue

She packed her children to return

but stopped to say, “I'll pray for you.”

She, a woman with no husband,

She, a homeless refugee,

Looked in the eyes of one so wealthy

And said that she would pray for me!

She walked in beauty that dark night

She walked in faith and certainty

Christ alone was enough for Eliza

Could He alone be enough for me?

And so to those who walk in beauty

through all of life's dark dreadful nights

Unsung hero, unmedaled champion,

Stand strong and tall in Love's true light.

The Waiting Game.

2010-10-29T10:12:00.004+02:00

I wait for the LORD, my soul waits,
and in his word I put my hope.

--Psalm 130:5

"How long must I wait?" The Psalmist asks. I love the honesty of his question. So many verses give accounts of waiting on the Lord as if it is a delight, a joy, a comfortable thing. Not for me.

I am like the guy who whines "how long must I wait!" (Ps.19:84).

And so we wait for our adoption of Levi to go through. Letters come stating we have reached the next phase, but it's all a game of waiting on a faceless bureaucracy to bring that precious face home.

Waiting is a concept that saturates the Bible. That does not make me like it any better. I am not good at it and I do not want any more practice.

But I do not have a choice.

I must wait.

But while a great deal of biblical waiting has to do with our call to wait on the Lord. The fact is that God does a great deal of waiting on us.

Unlike many missionaries, God does not typically hit people over the head with Himself. He woos and waits. He reveals aspects of Himself in unexpected ways and waits. He grants us glimpses of His love and light and waits and waits and waits for us to respond.

But we, frail and fractious creatures that we are, know what we want and we want it now! Sad thing is that we apply it to our spiritual life.

William Carey noted it in his time.

“The temper of our times is for instant gratification and short-term commitment—quick answers to prayer and quick results with a minimum of effort and discomfort.” Yep, that's me. And I know it's ugly.

So God is making me wait. And slowly I am learning to wait. But I am still not good at it. May I learn in this time of waiting that like our adoption, the conversion of one into God's family is also a process that takes time. And it is God's process not mine to manufacture. Carey said it best:

“There is no such thing as easy and instant discipleship,” Carey explains. “One can commence a walk of discipleship in a moment, but the first step must lengthen into a life-long walk.”

And so as I wait, I hope to learn to love well and in doing so discover a bit more about what a genuine patient passion for souls is all about. For Oswald Chambers rightly warns against the impatient evangelist -- he who is not willing to wait on God's work:

‎"Remember that there is a passion for souls that does not come from God, but from our desire to make converts to our point of view."

God help us in our poorly practiced discipline of simple waiting.

Miracle of Miracles!

2010-10-03T19:56:00.006+02:00

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.--Proverbs 13:12

Wonder of Wonder

Miracle of Miracles ...

The old song from the classic musical "Fiddler of the Roof" echoed through my head a couple weeks ago when we received the phone call. Although the psychologist listed her litany of objections to the adoption, in her final analysis, she decide to give lukewarm approval to our request to adopt Levi.

Of course our paperwork must still meander through the maze of bureaucracy before Levi will be ours for keeps. But now, that tree of life has sprouted and as we bring him home for visits each weekend, we know it is all a waiting game.

But waiting is a normal part of the Christian life -- so much so, it's a wonder we all aren't better at it. "But they that wait on the Lord shall renew your strength."How many times do we quote that?

Still, Russ and I watch the calendar, speculating on whether the postal service has gotten our paperwork to the next office yet.

We wait and watch the mail for the next fateful letter that will tell us we've reached the next step in the process that will bring us our son.

Meanwhile Levi remains at the orphanage during the week, going to school each day wondering where he really belongs. Is the orphanage his home? Is the Chun house his home? The answer is yes to both right now, as we are all a family in transition.

But perhaps for him, it feels more like being just a person in transition. For the first time in his life, he is experiencing something different than his siblings. And although some have already experienced adoption and others are in the process too, his experience is unique.

He is being adopted by people who speak English -- Americans to boot!

It's a crazy world in which we live. It's an imaginitive God who could take seven siblings and find them all homes within a year -- with parents determined to keep all the kids in touch. It is indeed a wonder of wonder and miracle of miracles. And it's one worth waiting for.

And so we wait, no longer with hope deferred, but with hope renewed. Now we await the emergence of that tree of life on that coming day when the longing is fulfilled and the Chun family of five comes into its completion.

HeartSick

2010-08-09T21:47:00.007+02:00

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick,
but a dream fulfilled is a tree of life.``

--Proverbs 13:12

We entered the summer with hearts dancing with excitement. The adoption seemed to be rushing forward with unimaginable momentum as so many hopes and dreams grew as Levi spent fully six weeks with us during camp season.

Under our roof, we watched as the quiet, unassuming child blossomed into outgoing comic wrapped up in little boyhood, and we emerged as a new kind of a Chun family -- one with five faces instead of four, melded into a kind of clan any human imagination would never dare to assemble. We embraced it as God's better plan, and prayed and hoped that God would grant us supernatural favor within the bureaucracy and Levi would be truly ours by summer's end, able to start school in the fall with us.

It was all a beautiful dream -- until hope was deferred.

The last major step in the process, the psychological evaluation, which we expected to be a cordial meeting, spiraled into a nightmare of hostility, prejudice, and accusation. We emerged perplexed and the follow up meeting with our daughters, Andi and Niki, (fully six weeks later) left me wishing I'd never allowed the psychologist time alone with my children.

The psychologist seemed dead set against us from square one. And now we wait for her official evaluation with sick hearts as so many hopes have been deferred.

But ours is not a unique plight. Hope deferred has become a standard state in this fallen world.

Many such hopes and dreams are good and righteous and God-seeded in the hearts of people -- still hope is deferred and the heart grows sick. For some it is the child they've hope for, fought for, yet miscarried again and again. For others it's the spouse they've longed for, waited for, trusted God for and still the years pass by and no one comes. For others still, and perhaps most tragically, they've held that longed-for child, or kissed that beloved spouse, only to have him ripped from their arms and torn for their souls by the cruel blade of death's grim reaper.

And so hope is deferred. And hearts reel in the agony of it all.

We respond to this heart sickness in many different ways. Russ avoids breakfast, because Levi and he always shared a special early breakfast together. He naps in Levi's room, so it does not feel so empty. But as I clean that tiny room and it remains clean far too long, we all face that profound void in the absence of what should be.

On August 15, we hope to learn the official result of our psychological evaluation. We have low expectations, knowing there could be long road ahead of us as we fight for our Levi. He may not be our child on paper, but he is already the son of our hearts.

And so for the moment hope has been deferred and our hearts are sick. But we believe there will come a day when this dream will be fulfilled and it will be a tree of life to us and others who witness it.

Not everyone gets to experience their righteous dreams fulfilled in this lifetime. May it be enough to know that our Lord, Jesus Christ is the fulfiller of our dreams for all eternity. For all our hopes are never extinguished, they are only deferred for a season -- until we embrace Him face to face.

Preparing a Place

2010-05-28T15:14:00.010+02:00

There is more than enough room in my Father’s home. If this were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am. John 14:2-3

I never thought much about this concept of "preparing a place" for someone until recently. As we have begun the process of adopting Levi, I have poured myself into building his room, an undertaking that involved everything from framing and drywall to painting and building shelves. And as I engaged in this process, one verse echoed through my mind daily. " I go to prepare a place for you."

It has been with great delight I have drilled and hammered. As my back and arms ache from each day's strenuous activities, I can only smile and dream of giving this special place, crafted with him in mind to Levi that fateful day when he becomes our own.

Each time we meet and interact, I probe him with questions to discover what spark's his young imagination that I might incorporate more and more tiny details of who he is into the place I am preparing for him.

The place is a product of our relationship, which is only in its infancy and yet this small room is also a reflection of all I perceive him to be. It has been crafted meticulously out of love and devotion, designed to instill security, comfort and hope into a little boy who has already gone through so much in his nine years of life. It is a symbol that he is ours and we are his for when he moves into that room to stay, he will be a Chun by adoption.

Like the disciples in the verses preceding this passage, life must be very confusing for Levi. Last weekend four of his brothers went to live with their adoptive family for good. We come and spend time with him and then have to say good bye. And when we do, he wraps his arms around Russ and squeezes as if he would perish if he dared let go. But he knows he must, for he is not yet ours.

And when I watch him hold onto Russ I want to say, "Don't worry Levi, we are going to prepare a place for you! A place of your very own where you belong. And when everything is prepared, then we will certainly return for you!"

In this experience, I have caught a glimpse of a heavenly truth. I can now imagine Christ pouring himself into preparing a place for each one of us -- a place of perfect design, crafted out of love and relationship, tailored to perfection to meet our every need. And in this preparation, He takes great joy for it represents what is coming -- us truly becoming wholly his.

So as we face the confusing moments of this life, when God seems to have turned away, we must hold on to the truth that He is never far. He is probing us and developing relationship with us as He joyfully prepares that place that we shall one day occupy as He bring us into Himself completely -- forever.

Backtalk

2010-05-06T11:17:00.006+02:00

But who are you, a mere man, to criticize and contradict and answer back to God? Romans 9:20 (Amplified)

Yesterday, I was evil.

I had dropped the girls off at school and was driving into Debrecen when I, being a law abiding citizen, stopped at a red light. Patiently I waited as the seconds ticked away. I watched as the local panhandler approached the car ahead of me. I come by this corner so often I almost feel as if I know these guys. It's always one of two: either the old man with a beard or the young man with a crutch. They seem to take shifts as they are never there at the same time.

Yesterday, the young man with a crutch was "on duty." He stood by the passenger side window of that car in front of me held out his hands beseechingly, but the driver would not even acknowledge his presence. Eventually the young man with a crutch moved on ... to my car.

Some years ago, I heard a man who worked with the homeless talk about how damaging it is for the down-and-out when the populace outright ignores them. "At least look them in the eye and treat them like a fellow human being," he had said. And I took the advice to heart. Although I don't give money to random people, I can show them honor and respect.

The young man, probably in his early 20s, hobbled over to my car. He took a humble stance and mumbled his schpeel in Hungarian. I looked at him kindly and said in simple, yet polite Hungarian, "I'm sorry, no."

Bad move on my part.

To my surprise, the man refused to move on to greener pastures. He fixed his feet firmly beside my car and motioned again that I should give him some money.

Still looking him straight in the eye, I said more strongly and firmly: Nem!

But this did not deter him. Now his demeanor changed. No longer beseeching me to show grace and grant him my spare change, now he began hitting my window demanding money.

Perhaps I should have been afraid. But I was too angry for that. With fire in my eye, I leaned over in the seat to face him squarely and shouted determinedly: "NEM! NEM!"

Since he showed no sign of moving on, I shoved my car in gear and moved up a meter or so to hug the car ahead of me, secretly hoping I would roll over his "good" foot in the process.

How dare he! I scoffed angrily as I watched him approach the next car in my rearview mirror. Who does this guy think he is!?!?!?

The whole episode got my back up for the rest of the day, so much so, that I could not help but wonder why it bothered me so much.

Utterly rude ... competely obnoxious ... outrageous ... absurd

Yeah, it's true, desiring to run over his foot is not likely the proper WWJD response. But I also don't buy that the honest WWJD response would be to cowtow to this bully. Jesus was no mamby-pamby, weenie of man. He was the Christ who overturned the money lenders, took on the prevailing dogma of the day, and spoke words that cut like swords to the very core of the issue in each person's life.

Christ was no pushover, so as I lay on my bed last night, I wondered what lesson I was to glean from this life experience. And as I began to mull over the life lessons God has instilled in me of late, I realized when I get riled like this it is often because I am in some way like the person who has riled me.

Me like HIM ... you've got to be kidding.

But then I thought. This is how I sometimes come to God. Sometimes I come properly, beseeching Him in all humility realizing that all the good gifts of this life are by His grace. And then every once in awhile, when I am experiencing His affection and honor toward me, I suddenly decide I can demand things of Him -- even when He compassionately, yet firmly, says "no." And so I "criticize, contradict and answer back to God." (Rom 9:20)

And at that moment, I am not so different from the crazy panhandler hitting my window. Unlike me, God does not get angry and try to run over my feet. Instead, he continues to look at me with His great compassion and He patiently waits for me to understand He has made available all that I will ever need, but I'll never obtain it through my demands and temper tantrums. I'll only discover it through relationship with Him.

For in relationship, He gives his grace utterly and sacrificially.

Relationship is what Christianity is all about. And while we might like mask our demands and criticism of how God is working in the spiritual lingo of "prayers" and "prayer requests." Such mechanisms were never designed to give us an opportunity to tell God how to handle any given situation. Prayer is not us changing God's mind. Prayer is an opportunity to let God change us through fellowship with Him.

So let's fellowship with Him today in all humility -- releasing Him from all the demands we'd like to make. Let's just be with Him and trust Him to handle the rest.

The Better Dream

2010-04-19T22:14:00.005+02:00

"Now to Him Who, by (in consequence of) the [action of His] power that is at work within us, is able to [carry out His purpose and] do superabundantly, far over and above all that we [dare] ask or think [infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires, thoughts, hopes, ordreams]-- " Eph. 3:20 (Amplified)

"I have a dream..."

That ubiquitous quote, which fell from the lips of Martin Luther King, Jr. nearly five decades ago, still resonates from the very soul of each human as we all, on some level, have a dream -- a dream for something better, deeper, more meaningful. A dream to make the world better, if not for all, then certainly for some.

I too have had many dreams over the course of the four decades I've walked this earth. In my teens, all was black and white. And I felt destined to whiten all the black that seethed around me. Ironically, my obsession for the white too often blinded me to the blackness within myself.

If you knew me in my twenties, I often rhapsodized about "changing the world." Funny thing was, God seemed more interested in using His world to change me. And so He did.

This last weekend I was reawakened to a dream of my past. A dream of my thirties. Some ten years ago, my friends Andi (now Horvat-Kavai) and Michelle (now Kummer) strolled along a lovely country road near the palatial Lillafured, Hungary. It was a time when God had seen fit to intertwine my heart and soul with the children of the nearby Diosgyori orphanage. On some level I carried the children and their pain with me for they had become so very dear to me.

As we strolled the rural path, taking in the pastoral landscape, we came upon some beautiful old, yet abandoned and deteriorating, homes. We each chose one and dreamed about what we would do if we had such a house to restore. I vividly remember chosing the red brick one. In it's day it must have been truly lovely: red bricking laced by wooden beams with a turret-like tower on one end. "That's my house," I had said." And it can be a children's home for all my kids." The melancholy faces of those orphanage kids flashed through my mind like a slideshow. It was my dream. It was a good dream.

On Saturday I found myself walking that same country road in the Bukk mountains. I saw the stately place Michelle had chosen for her dream that day so long ago. And then, just before we turned around to go back to the car, a lovely red brick edifice caught my eye and I was taken back to that dream of long ago.
When I walked this path before, I was a single woman with big dreams. We all were.

This time I stood before the house with an exceptional husband at my side and three children scurrying around, picking flowers, collecting snails, and splashing in the mud. One of the children was Andi, named after the friend I had traversed this road with more than decade earlier. The second was our adopted daughter, Niki -- adopted from that very same orphanage that stole my heart so long ago. And the third was Levi, sweet Levi, whom we are working to add to our family in the next few months. He currently lives at that same orphanage.

I don't expect I will ever live in that red brick house in Lillafured. But at the end of the day, it's just a facade of red clay and mortar, crumbling in its imperfection over time -- not so different from the malformed dreams I've crafted for myself over the years.

The three that stand before it are the better dream fulfilled -- "far over and above all that we [dare] ask or think [infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires, thoughts, hopes, or dreams"

Let's face it. God, Himself, crafts the better dream -- the dreams we never knew we had. Let's be willing to let go of our feeble, malformed dreams, however good they may seem, that we may not miss out on the better one.

Don't Turn Back

2010-03-30T09:17:00.008+02:00

"... forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead," -- Phillipians 3:13

"No, no no!" The new orphanage caregiver shouted. "No strangers allowed in the house!"

My nine year old daughter froze in uncharacteristic stone-cold silence. For two years of her life she had lived within these walls. She had called it home and the 12 year old autistic girl, Angela, who stood beside her, had been her roommate.

"Angela," the caregiver scolded, doubtlessly with the best of intentions, "You know you can't bring strangers in here!"

Strangers? Niki's brow furrowed. How could she be a stranger here at the orphanage, her orphanage?

The two girls edged their way back outside and rejoined the games of the Easter program, but for the rest of day Niki wallowed in a funk. It was incomprehensible that her old life had forgotten her, but the experience declared all too eloquently that she no longer belonged there.

Perhaps we all can relate to Niki's experience last weekend. A certain amount of our identity is wrapped up in our old life. And we want to hold onto it. But God has called us to a new life, a better life, a place where He can meet our deepest needs. He has called us to push forward in it, still we tend to turn back and perhaps even long for things that are not in our best interest. Sometimes He has to bring us to that painful place where we realize we no longer belong there. It is a paring away of ourselves in order to help us embrace the better place he has for us.

So let's stop looking back. Stop living in what would have, could have or even should have been. Let's let go of the old life and embrace the life Christ has brought us into, for hard as this life might be at times, God has designed it to ultimately be good in His great plan.

At times when Niki must face punishment for disobedience or even when she simply longs for her biological or foster mother, her life with us does not feel so good from her perspective. But in the grand scheme of things, having witnessed how she has blossomed over the past 3 and half years with us, there's no doubt, God is working His good in her.

So we can be assured in our own adoption in God's family, that He is working His good in us, even in the painful places as we let go of all that's behind.

Angela and Niki

Ode to a Dog Named Pig

2010-03-08T14:56:00.004+01:00

He was a little dog, insignificant as an animal can be. His tail spewed from his back end, a blond tuft of fur puffing out as demonstratively as his nose pushed inward. A pekingese wannabe of mutt stock, he patroled the areas around his home in much the same way his mistress, a Roma (gypsy) woman, struts the streets of the Hungarian village in which we live.

They called him "Malac," Hungarian for "pig," or more literally, "piglet," as his tiny stature would dictate. An annoying canine of note, Malac tormented the neighborhood with his screechy, high pitched yipes in the wee hours of the morning.

No, there was really nothing redeemable about Malac. Given the opportunity, the long-haired mongrel would creep into our fenced yard and "pig out" on our dogs' victuals. All the meanwhile, he turned up his concave nose at the dog food his own master/mistress dispensed.

Malac was a menace, driven wild by our schnauzer-setter's wiles. Granted, the tiny Romeo could hardly expect to accomplish much despite his aggressive attempts to court her. After all, at full height, he reached barely past her ankles.

Still Malac fancied himself quite the ladies man around the village, it would seem. From one end of Mikepercs to the other, the village remains speckled with the a curious presence of pekingese-variation mutts. I guess Malac lived up to his name on many levels, huh?

A couple weeks ago, a new notable peace seemed to descend over the neighborhood. Truth be told I hardly noticed it at first. Then I learned from the boy next door that Malac, the dog named pig, had perished after trying to take on a moving vehicle. Needless to say, he lost the altercation.

Hence, I deemed it fitting to write a tribute to the bothersome dog who, in my humble opinion, was scarcely dog enough to be called a dog. Perhaps that's why they called him, "pig."

Very often as I blog, I seek some sort of spiritual revelations in the ordinary events of life. With Malac, I am hard pressed to find practical application.

Except that, maybe on some level, Malac represents what John Donne wrote about when penned the phrase, "No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main..."

Insignificant as the little dog was, he still somehow impacted and still effects the lives of many in a little Hungarian village called Mikepercs. For some it is a legacy of troublesome strays with pushed in noses meandering about the streets. For others it is a fluffy haired, pig nosed bundle of fun and faithfulness who will follow some child through all his joys and sorrows of growing up.

And if God, in His infinite wisdom, could see fit to craft the workings of this world in a way that allows something as insignificant as a dog named pig to leave a legacy, just imagine all the potential for legacy he must have bound up in you and me.

Let's not leave legacy bound up as mere potential. Let's conciously seek the kind of legacy we wish to leave behind, the legacy we've been called to leave behind.

For "no man is an island" -- not even a scruffly little dog named pig.

In the Shadow of the Limelight

2010-02-25T13:38:00.005+01:00

It's Olympic season again and while athletes from around the world converge in Canada with gold-plated dreams, the rest of the world watches in awe at the strength of the the human body and spirit.

To tell you the truth, I've missed everything. With no working TV and American video blocked from foreign viewing on the internet, I've missed watching all my favorite winter events. But news still eaks through and this past week, no one could miss the drama when Canadian figure skater Joannie Rochette took to the ice.

Only two days earlier, her mother died of a massive heart attack. Still, even in the deepest of grief, Joannie would not let that stop her from realizing the dream she and her mother shared. She dedicated her tango-inspired routine to her mother and skated the performance of her life. The Canadian crowds roared in pride and sympathy as she took her bow and tears poured from her eyes onto the ice. And hers were not the only tears shed. So moved by her strength and poise in the face of such tragic loss, the coliseum swelled with emotion and tears welled up in eyes around the globe as the world watched. It was a true Olympic moment, the kind the binds all peoples together regardless of nationality of cultural background, as we share the wonder and magic, the joy and grief of the human experience.

That soul-stirring performance catapulted Joannie to third place in the standings. Bittersweet, as full of grief as joy, Joannie Rochette captured her magical moment, her limelight.

And as we each well up with emotion for her and perhaps even release a sigh and smile, we forget that immediately following this amazing Olympic moment, another skater had to perform.

While onlookers still wiped their reddened eyes, Julia Sebestyen, representing her homeland of Hungary with pride, skated out on the ice, still stained by Joannie's tears. Like all the others she had come to fulfill her Olympic dream and maybe capture her own Olympic moment. By the luck of the draw, she found herself in perhaps one of the most difficult places -- in the shadow of the limelight.

While the world will remember the name Joannie Rochette, no one will remember Julia.

Do you ever feel like Julia?

You've finally reached that high point in your life. You are doing exactly what you were created to do and in your finest moment you find yourself eclipsed by circumstances beyond your control. You think you've reached your time in the spotlight, but end up only in the shadows.

We don't have to look far to find biblical characters who faced a similar situations. Jonathon and Saul both found themselves eclipsed by David. Each responded to their plight differently. Leah found herself overshadowed by Rachael. Esau was eclipsed by Jacob.

Even John the Baptist could have felt eclipsed by Christ, but realizing what was really going on, he said, "He must increase, but I must decrease." (John 3:30)

John the Baptist was okay with operating in someone's shadow.

While most of us will not face a situation as clear cut as John the Baptist's or as dramatic as Julia's, we will likely face situations in life where we get shafted out of our "moment."

The question is not whether it will happen, but rather, how do we respond? We can fill our hearts with viperous bitterness, ever agitated that we'd been robbed of our right for acclaim and appreciation. Or we can be willing to decrease that others may increase.

It would be not fair for anyone to have to skate at the Olympics after Joannie's moment, but life is not fair. And even though life is not fair, God is still in control and still good. Julia skated and has joined the annuls of figure skating history full of forgotten names who accomplished so much -- in the shadows of the great Olympic moments.

Perhaps the greatest call in the Christian life is not the call to the limelight, but the call to the shadow, for this is the way of humility, the way of sacrifice. It's the road that says "Yes, Lord," regardless what He calls us to walk through.

"The Lord has told you what is good,
and this is what he requires of you:
to do what is right, to love mercy,
and to walk humbly with your God. " --Micah 6:8

Let's embrace the shadow of the limelight.

.

Szeretek a Rakott Krumplit!

2010-02-22T09:26:00.003+01:00

Magyar étel nagyon finom. Talán a legfinomabb magyar tál Rakott Krumpli. Szombaton sokat csináltam ez. A barátnőm, Edo, segített.

Én boldog voltam, hogy Edo segített, mert ő autentikus magyar. Ez nem lenne igazi rakott krumpli ha azt nem készítették elő magyar kezek. Sajnos magyar vér nem fut végig a vénáimon. De én magyar vagyok szivemben.

Egy magyar sziv nem elég csinálni a rakott krumpli autentikus. Köszönöm Edónak, a bűvös Magyar érintésedet!

Ez finom volt, az volt, hogy mondom-e magam. De a legtöbb magyar étel finom.

Egészséges? Nem fontos.

Pedaul, a jóbb név rakott krumpinak lenni "koleszterin tűzálló tálja." Talán ez meg fog ölni téged. De ez annyira finom, hogy meg fogsz halni boldog.

És ahogy minden táplálékszakértő vagyis tudja, mindaz számít!

To Be Chosen

2010-02-18T14:12:00.003+01:00

Ahhh, to be "chosen"!

What an awe-inspiring concept. To be special, set apart. Our adopted daughter Niki knows something of what it means to be chosen. Adrift in an orphanage, rejected by the only home she ever knew, she had her basic needs met -- food and shelter. But she had no one to call her own.

Through adoption she discovered the concept of being chosen. SHE was the ONE! SHE now had a family who loved her! SHE had been chosen. But being chosen does not come without costs.

Consider what being "chosen" meant in Bible times:

Abraham was chosen. He had to leave his homeland and everything he knew to travel to -- only God knew where! Along this pilgrimmage he had to deal with a barren wife and no hope of offspring -- except for God's promise. Then when the promise was finally fulfilled, God asked him to sacrifice his son!

Moses was chosen. Set adrift in a basket as a baby, raised by strangers, he committed murder. He fled to the desert for many years, returned to face Pharoah and witness the plagues, and then after the parting of the Red Sea, he had to deal with a bunch of complainers in the wilderness until he died.

David was chosen. And he had spend a good portion of us life fleeing the king's wrath. When he finally became king, his son, Amnon, raped his daughter,Tamar. Later his other son Absalom killed Amnon, bringing the concept dysfunctional families to a new height.

Mary was chosen of God. Pregnant before marriage, she gave birth in a stable with only her husband to help. Then she had to flee to Egypt and live like a refugee until they could return to Israel, where she would raise that child only to watch him be tortured and murdered publicly.

Paul was chosen of God. And he suffered countless beatings, stoning, and tradition suggests he was ultimately beheaded.

The list could go on and on. Chosen of God most often means Chosen to Suffer in this life. It just doesn't seem fair, does it?

Niki too feels the sting of the "chosen" when all the kids at our village ministry "Kids Klub" are allowed to act like monsters, being rude and disrespectful with no consequences, and if she even uses a tone of attitude serious punishment awaits!

She senses it too when all the other kids are free to goof around and play and she comes home to study under the malevolent dictatorship of her mother.

It's not fair, she must often think. But she was chosen.

Like Niki, we often do not understand the circumstances we must walk through in this life. Indeed, being "chosen" doesn't seem to be all it's cracked up to be. But we cannot see this world as it truly is. We can only "see through a glass darkly." (As 1 Cor. 13:12)

Has God chosen you? It's no reason to be smug or self-righteous. Being chosen is no panacea. It's hard and it hurts -- so much it may make us wonder if we really wanted to be chosen in the first place.

But perhaps here is where we misunderstand most. CS Lewis summed it up nicely in The Great Divorce:

“‘That is what mortals misunderstand. They say of some temporal suffering, ‘No future bliss can make up for it,’ not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory. And of some sinful pleasure they say ‘Let me have but this and I’ll take the consequences’: little dreaming how damnation will spread back and back into their past and contaminate the pleasure of sin. Both processes begin even before death. The good man’s past begins to change so that his forgiven sins and remembered sorrows take on the quality of Heaven: the bad man’s past already conforms to his badness and is filled only with dreariness. And that is why, at the end of all things, when the sun rises here and the twilight turns to blackness down there, the Blessed will say ‘We have never lived anywhere except Heaven,’ and the Lost, ‘We were always in Hell.’ And both will speak truly.’

Can we catch a glimps of heaven in the trials we face today? Can we hold the title of "chosen" in humble surrender so that He who makes all things new may use even this present suffering to work heaven in our lives?

We are chosen.

Where I do not want to be...

2010-02-10T11:13:00.006+01:00

Have you ever found yourself in a place you didn't want to be?

I'm not simply talking geographically, but more poignantly relationally. Maybe your own choices (right or wrong) brought you to this uncomfortable place. Perhaps it was someone else's choice and you had no say in it. Regardless you find yourself in a place of awkward tension and irreversible discomfort.

In a word, TRAPPED.

And trapped in this world of discontentment, with swirling angst and tension on all sides, how do we do what we are called to do. How do we love well?

When I was a kid, my pastor preached a whole sermon on an obscure character in Scripture. 2 Kings 5:2 tells us about a little girl "taken captive from Israel" by bands from Aram and forced into slavery.

The Bible gives us little more information about her background. But we can extrapolate much from this one verse. Fundamentally, the little girl was in a place where she did not want to be. She had suffered great loss -- the loss of family, friends, home, culture, lifestyle, freedom, and all those hopes and dreams that little girls have regarding what their lives will be like when they grow up. We can only speculate as to the brutality she witnessed, if not experienced.

She was but a child, still she was old enough to know who she was. And that was one thing they could not take away. She remembered there was a God in Israel and His prophet did extraordinary things. It must have all seemed so far away -- until her master became a leper.

In a place she did not want to be, held by those who had destroyed her life, she had every reason to be discontent, bitter, and angry. And then he who had caused her so much suffering in her youthful innocence, began to suffer!

YES!

GO GET HIM, GOD!

Time to celebrate JUSTICE!!!!

"Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord!" Right? Muhahahahaha.

But that was not her response. At the end of verse 2, we read her only words recorded: "If only my master would see the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy."

The master, Naaman, went. And God healed him.

There is no indication that this child ever was set free from her place of hardship because of this good deed. In fact, there is no indication she even received a reward. She likely lived out the rest of her life in slavery.

So what's the point?

Her circumstances did not change her character and her character did not change her circumstances.

Still, she made a choice to make the most of a bad situation -- to practice contentment which enabled her to love well even in the face of her own suffering -- and those actions brought glory to God.

That made all the difference.

Lately, I’ve found myself in a place of awkward tension – a place I really do not want to be. My choices (which I believe are right) brought me to this place. May I learn to love well and “practice love” in the face of it – even if those choices never free me from my place of hardship.

May bringing glory to God be enough for me.

Chungarian Egér Kalandok

2010-01-29T14:43:00.002+01:00

Mi történt a Chungarian egérrel?

"Let it be done to me..."

2009-12-08T12:27:00.006+01:00

"Let it be done to me ..."

Those were Mary's words in that incredible moment when Heaven came down and kissed earth and the Son of God was conceived in her.

"Let it be done to me ..."

It was the ultimate "Yes, Lord" -- a moment of true and total surrender of a human will to the will of the Almighty. Isn't that what we all as believers should be moving towards?

And yet this: "Let it be done to me ..." does not mark an accomplishment or arrival in Mary's life. This "Yes Lord" was just the beginning and it would come with a great price.

But can a young girl possibly understand the price? Can any of us?

Perhaps she had counted some of the cost. A young woman turning up pregnant while only betrothed? We can rest assure there were whispers, askew glances, silent judgements that proved all too articulate in the dark corners where gossip festers like encroaching mold.

Perhaps her visit to her relative Elizabeth came at an opportune moment for many reasons. It's good to get a break from the accusing glares and raised eyebrows. But Mary had said, "Let it be done to me... " And she meant it.

Wasn't that enough?

Then at time when she needed her family most -- a time when a mother, sisters, aunties consult, confide, and comfort. She had to leave them all and go the Bethlehem with Joseph. Here on the cusp of giving birth for the very first time -- the birth that had resulted from her saying, "Yes, Lord" In the place of her greatest weakness and highest need, she had to leave everything she knew and travel into the unknown.

As they approached the city, she must've felt the first contraction. But having never experienced a contraction before, she couldn't have been sure that that's what it was. How she must have longed for her mother, sister or aunt for guidance. Alone with her betrothed as the pain consumed her, together they had to figure this birth process out -- in a stable.

But this was her lot when she said, "Let it be done to me..."

Was not God in control of all things? Couldn't He have orchestrated this a little better? Why did it have to be so hard?

And still it did not end there.

As the blood of massacred children began to flow in the streets, Mary had to wrap up that precious child and run away to save his life. As this promised child's life hung in the balance, the young family had to leave everything, and race away in the middle of the night from their homeland and culture into a foreign land, into Egypt. They were refugees, people without a home. And as refugees, as strangers in a strange land, they had to figure out how to survive.

Why did have to be so hard? She had said "Let it be done to me..." That's not an easy thing to say in all honesty. Wasn't this enough?

But God would make it still harder.

After those harrowing early years, life may have settled into common routine, for awhile. But Mary's greatest hardship was yet to come. The nightmare that haunts every mother's secret place... the terror that reaches deeper than fear to utter loss ... Mary, who said, "Let it be done to me", had to watch her son, her first born child, be tortured. She had to watch as His blood dripped into the dirt of the ancient street and coagulate into a murky grotesque mud to be trampled underfoot.

She could only double over and cringe at the clank of hammer pounding iron as the nails tore into his flesh.

She could only remain at the foot of the cross and cry as he died. For although He was Savior of the world, and she may have had a glimpse that reality, He was still her baby.

The greatest reality in her mother's heart was that the baby miraculously conceived in her, the one she had nursed in difficult times, carried to Egypt, brought back to Israel and raised -- that precious child now hung dead before her.

"Let it be done to me..."

Those words of total surrender did not represent the culmination of her walk of faith. They were but the first step.

"Why does have to be so hard?" We all ask when we experience only small hiccups on the road of faith.

Why? Because sacrifice cannot exist without pain. Surrender cannot occur without loss.

Because, in the end, discipleship was meant to be costly.

May we embrace the costs this Christmas season and faithfully say, "Let it be done to me."

Épít egy jobb egérfogót

2009-11-23T14:22:00.004+01:00

Az epikusz egérháborúk folytatódnak.

Ma én eldobtam a Tesco egérfogókot. Nem működik. Legalább nem működik a falusi egéreken. Lehet az Anglia egérfogója tul kifinomultak a magyar falusi egéreknek.

Az magyar falusi eger okosabb, erösebb, gyorsabb, mint az brit egér.

Az Anglia egér kövér, béna, és boldog. Azért az alsóbrendű Tesco csapda működik mert az egérek nem nagyon ügyes.

De a magyar falusi egér nagyon nehéz élet van. Csak a legerősebbek és legokosabbek életben marad. Tudjak hogyan hogy lehet nyalni egy csapdatisztitást. Tudjak hogyan hogy lehet tavol tartani magát ay ragasztótól.

Ők a felsőbrennű egérek!

DE nem eleg ügyes illatos habórúkert!!!!!! Vagy ugyhogy gondaltam. Nem láttam a sértő rágcsáló bizonyitékát hetek allat. Eléggé önelégültnek éreztem magamat győzelmemben.

Tegnap az önelégültsegem osszetölt mikor az irodája hosszában levő Russell tisztitás. A tartalékészlete alatt sportzoknijú, felfedezte ay egérvécét. Kaka mindenhol!

Ami sok, az sok!

Mert egy okossabb egérem van, nekem kell epitni egy jobban egérfogót.

Segitség magyar barátom! Mi az a titok?

Mi az a legjobb magyar falusi egércsapda?

Minden ötlet drágult.

YIKES... discovering the literal translation

2009-10-14T11:52:00.004+02:00

I am taking this opportunity to take a break from the epic thriller known as "The Chungarian Mouse Wars" (brought to you only in some strange version of Hungarian) to reflect on some of my latest strange and mysterious discoveries within the Hungarian language.

(besides the mouse has gone into hiding so there is nothing to write about that.)

I have peacefully lived within the shrunken borders of the lovely and illustrious nation of Hungary now for a total of 7 years. This should render me fluent in the language, but as my blogs all to eloquently demonstrate, I am not.

I have as of late stumbled upon some truly troubling aspects of the language which revolve around how the Hungarian people choose to express themselves. These nuances are often lost in translation as translations are rarely literal transformations from one word in one language to another, but instead are conceptual.

Let me illustrate my point with 3 examples:

1. I have for years known the Hungarian word for "@" used in email addresses to be "kukac". In my American brain, I translated it "at" as we would speak it in English email address. But recently I had the all too rude awakening of discovering what I was actually saying is "maggot".

That's right. All Hungarian email addresses are full of maggots!!!!!!! I am thechunclanMAGGOThotmail.com.

I was horrified.

2. For years I knew that the word for bra in Hungarian was "melltarto." And I did not give much thought to it. "Bra" in English is such a subtle, sensitive, unassuming word. You say it in public with creating unwanted word pictures.

No so in Hungarian. I heard Andi and Niki speaking about their "tolltarto" (pen holder) and then it hit me. When I say "bra" in Hungarian, I am actually saying "BREASTHOLDER". Well, that leaves little to the imagination now, doesn't it? We might as well resort to the Jr. High Boys locker room and resurrect the old phrase: "Over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder."

3. Finally and most recently I discovered that the Hungarians have a colorful word for "cohabitation". You would never know it as anyone translating for you would just say "cohabitation," which sounds almost clinical. The Hungarian term "vadhazassag" literally translates: WILD Marriage. That puts an interesting spin on it.

However, I don't know if this is a good word for it as I know a number of legally married folks whose marriage could be classified as WILD!

Who knows how many more of these words exist and I may even use them and never understand what colorful, all-to-descriptive, things I am saying!

Feel free to horrify me and expand my horizens with examples of such ....

A Chun-garian Egérháború (Episode 2)

2009-10-08T09:04:00.006+02:00

Az icipici egér futott a lépcsők alatt. Ő egy udvarias egér volt, úgyhogy integetett a hölgynek, ahogy futott. A nő annyira kedves volt, hogy ételt adott neki azokon a kicsi fából készült platformokon.

A nő zihált. Dühössé vált. Nem csak egy egér a házában. Most az egér kigúnyolta őt!

És úgyhogy az egérháborúk kezdődtek.

De ez nem volt szokásos egér. Baratsagos volt, de Ő egy természetfölötti értelmek. Ártatlanul ehetné a csalétket egy csapdán és soha nem gáncsolhatná el azt! Benne valami mély, azt mondta neki, hogy tartsa távol magát az egérragasztótól.

Ez nem volt egz tipikus egér. Mint a sárgarépák a kértben ez az évben, a nő biztos volt, hogy ez egy mutans egér volt.

Tegnap, a nő egy nagyon erős tisztitóval mosotta a padlót. Ennek olyan szaga volt, mint a fenyőnek. És egy egér nem szerette azt.

De az egér nem hagyta el a házat. Felment.

Egy kis lany szobaja nagyon kellemes hely! Az egér alapul sok papír fészkelni.

De ma az gonosz nő egz nagyon erős tisztitóval mosotta a padlót fent! Minden erősen szagol fenyő.

"Hehehehehehehe," a nő gonoszul nevetett. Remélte, hogy végül az egérnél okosabbá vált.

Időben tudni fogjuk.

-----------

Stay tuned for the next exciting episode of the Chungarian Mouse Wars!

A Chun-garian Egér

2009-10-06T12:27:00.003+02:00

Egyszer volt, hol nem volt egy ici-pici egér. És az icipici egér egy nagy házat Mikepércsen felfedezt.

De egy család az házán lakik.

Az icipici egérnek nem volt kifogása azellen, hogy részesedjen. De a család nem akart reszesedni. Volt egy nagy problema.

Először az icipici egér gondolta, hogy a család nagyon vendégszerető volt. Földimogyoro vajkrémet adtak neki. Neki adták az ételt egy furcsa fából készült platformon. Egy kevés ragyogó fémmel és dróttal díszítették a platformot! Nagyon barátsagos család, az egér gondolta.

Az egér kövér evő mogyoróvajkrém a csapdákan lett. Az egér nagyon nemes evő volt. Sikeresen nyalta a mogyoróvaj egészét. soha nem gáncsolta el a csapdát. Ő egy icipici egér volt.

Boldog és kövér, ez icipici egér lakta Mikepércsen.

Egy napon a család az egérnek adott valamit ujat. Adtak a finom etélt egy nagyon szép piros papiron. És az étel körül valami ragyogó és ragadós volt. Az egér gondolta, hogy ez nagyon szép. És ...

Remélhetőleg holnap meg fogjuk tudni, hogy mi történik aztán az "Chun-garian egér" epikus történetében.

Judging Judges 19 -- Part II

2009-09-14T10:13:00.005+02:00

See Judging Judges 19 -- Part I (below)

As we push forward with Judges 19, we move into verses 3-5. Four months after she left him, this Levite comes determined to "persuade" his concubine wife to return, or as the Message version puts it: "Then her husband decided to go after her and try to win her back."

Perhaps he was a smooth talker. Perhaps she felt an obligation as his wife, but clearly she is open to prospects of reconciliation. The hows and whys can only be dismissed to speculation. But she brings him into her father's house. The father greets him warmly and an interesting display of hospitality ensues. Consistently, the father urges his son-in-law to stay, day after day. It seems to reach beyond simple hospitality into perhaps a paternal desire for his daughters happiness and perhaps even her protection. But in the end, the girl is this Levite's wife. And when he leaves, she must leave with him. Ironically instead of protecting the girl, the late start proved to be only the first in many events that led to her demise.

So off they go. It's too late to make it all the way home in one day now. The Levite is convinced that they will be safe lodging in a Israelite city and so they push forward to the Gibeah in Benjamanite territory. Inns did not exist in all cities at this time and so travelers had to rely on the hospitality of kinsman or locals for lodging or just camp out.

Things are looking dim as the sun begins to set and no one has offered them a safe place for the night. Perhaps they grew edgy at the thought of sleeping out in the streets unprotected. But what choice did they have?

Finally, a local who was originally from their area of Ephraim stumbled upon them and offered them hospitality at his home. What good fortune! An eleventh hour rescue. Yes, all would be well now.

In the "get to know ya" conversation between the Levite and hospitable local, the Levite explains, "I went to Bethlehem of Judah, but I am [now] going [home] to the house of the Lord [where I serve], and there is no man who receives me into his house."(Amplified)

Where did that come from? This is the first time God has been mentioned in this man's whole story. For some reason he feels the need to put a spiritual spin on his predicament.

Have we ever been guilty of this? We like to pretend that we are "acknowledging the Lord in all of our ways" but in reality, we acknowledge Him only when it serves our purpose, makes us look good. He wants to make sure this guy knows that HE is a LEVITE, a man of the cloth.

The man invites the Levite and his entourage into his home and all is looking good ... until there is a knock at the door. The evil men outside demand the guest. The Levite and his host's response is enough to make us wonder if there were more evil outside that house or inside. The Message records it this way:

A gang of local hell-raisers all, surrounded the house and started pounding on the door. They yelled for the owner of the house, the old man, "Bring out the man who came to your house. We want to have sex with him."
He went out and told them, "No, brothers! Don't be obscene—this man is my guest. Don't commit this outrage. Look, my virgin daughter and his concubine are here. I'll bring them out for you. Abuse them if you must, but don't do anything so senselessly vile to this man."
But the men wouldn't listen to him. Finally, the Levite pushed his concubine out the door to them. They raped her repeatedly all night long. Just before dawn they let her go. The woman came back and fell at the door of the house where her master was sleeping. When the sun rose, there she was.

The world truly becomes an ugly place when " there was no king ... [and] every man [does] what was right in his own eyes."

Here our religious leader of the day, the one who should be helping to establish and hold up the moral fabric of society physically forces his wife out of the house to be raped to death in order to save his own neck. What's worse, he seems to feel no remorse over the whole affair as he still managed to get a good night's sleep that night.

We want our pastors, lay leaders, even Christians in general to be heroes. But they fail us. We all fail each other. While we are repulsed by this story, the fact remains that we are each capable of all kinds of evil when we depose of the King in our lives and chose to do what is right in our own eyes.

And it is ugly. It leaves me cold. But this story from Judges does not end here.

The Message version describes the next scene of this tragedy this way:

It was morning. Her master got up and opened the door to continue his journey. There she was, his concubine, crumpled in a heap at the door, her hands on the threshold.
"Get up," he said. "Let's get going." There was no answer.
He lifted her onto his donkey and set out for home. When he got home he took a knife and dismembered his concubine—cut her into twelve pieces. He sent her, piece by piece, throughout the country of Israel. And he ordered the men he sent out, "Say to every man in Israel: 'Has such a thing as this ever happened from the time the Israelites came up from the land of Egypt until now? Think about it! Talk it over. Do something!'"

"Get up"? "Let's get going"? Hello! You just allowed your wife to be raped and abused all night long, you find her collapsed on the doorstep and THIS is how you respond?!?!??!?!?

What's with this "man of God"? It truly makes me sick to my stomach. But the fact remains that evil is capable of infecting even the clergy. And when that happens many innocents suffer on many levels.

And that's exactly what happened here. Never having repented for the role he played in the tragedy, the Levite makes a self-serving call for justice. In violation of Torah law where desecration of the body is forbidden, he cuts up his wife's body and sends it to the tribes, a dramatic, if not grotesque, call to vengence. He was angry, not because they had hurt his beloved wife, but because they had broken his stuff. It was the offense against himself that concerned the Levite most.

The result: War, widespread bloodshed, nearly complete genocide of the tribe of Benjamin, and then in a last ditch effort to save the tribe, widespread kidnapping and rape of countless young women from Shiloh.

The tentacles of evil reach far, wide and deep.

By including this story in Holy Scripture, God acknowledges how the evil of this world reaches out and tears into lives and souls of individuals simply trying to survive this journey we call life. The concubine, the girls of Shiloh, the countless lives slaughtered in this altercation in the name of justice, but motivated only by selfishness and evil -- their blood testifies that when we depose the King and do what is right in our own eyes, evil triumphs.

Very often it is the events of evil in the world that drive people to give up on God. How could a sovereign God of all goodness exist when such tragedies like this occur?

But Evil is not proof that there is no God. If anything it is proof that there is one. If there is no God, then there is no real right or wrong. There is no sin and no real evil. There is just what is. And this story is just a story with no lesson, no bad guy.

But this story IS so unmistakably horrid. There is so much undeniable evil seething from all angles of it that we are forced to recognize that evil exists. And many of us can recall events of evil in our own lives that hurt us very personally and very deeply. It was not just some amoral event of our lives, it was sheer Evil. To explain it away any other way would be to denigrate our suffering.

Since that fateful day Adam and Eve ate from the tree, our world has borne the infection of evil. And it ravages mankind with sorrow and suffering. Perhaps, in light of this, the real question is not "If God exists, why is there so much evil in the world?" But instead, "If there really was a "fall," how do we still manage to "see the goodness of the Lord in the Land of the Living"? (Psalm 27:13). How can there be so many glimpses of goodness in such an sin-infected world?

Granted, there are times, when those glimpses all but disappear as they did for that poor concubine on that night in Gibeah as the dark cloud of evil got its chokehold on her through her husband's betrayal and violent men's abuse, dragging her to her own demise.

As Christians we are not immune. We too may face the darkness of tragedy. What then? How shall we respond when God seems so alien and Evil all too intimate?

CS Lewis put it best in Screwtape Letters: "[Satan's] cause is never in more danger than when a human -- no longer desiring but still intending to do [God's] will -- looks round upon the universe from which every trace of [God] seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys."

That is the moment of truth. For it is at that moment that we are forced to truly exercise the faith we claim.

Judging Judges 19

2009-09-07T09:49:00.006+02:00

Have you ever read Judges 19? If not, read through it before going on here.

This is a passage that the bible-bashers love -- just because it is so ugly. Rape, murder, mutilation. "Why would God allow such horrors?" one cannot help but ask as they read it. But such questions are not limited to this obscure, unpleasant fraction of scripture. Many realities of life drive us to the same question.

In this light, the very fact that such a horrible event is recorded in holy scripture suggests that God, Himself, is not some "pie-in-the sky-by-and-by-when-we-die" fairy creature. Quite the contrary. He is a realist. Perhaps He is the ultimate realist as he comprehends all dimensions of reality. He knew and knows that we will all face the ugly realities of this sinful world -- some of us more than others. And those are the times simple pious pat answers just won't cut it for us anymore as we cry out, "Where is God in this utter injustice!?!?!?"

With that said, let's take a little look at this sordid story of scripture. Judges 19.

"In those days Israel had no king." This is shortened form of the theme of Judges, repeated throughout: "In those days Israel had no king; everyone did as he saw fit."

They may have been God's chosen people, but they failed to make Him King. They failed to allow Him to regulate their lives. Instead, everyone pretty much decided right and wrong for himself.

Hmmm. So this is the opening concept for this story. Where do we fit in? Can we relate? Can we be called "Christian" and yet never give God the throne of our lives? How often do we fail to allow Him to regulate our concepts of right and wrong and simply come up with our own formulas, paying minimal homage to scripture when it conveniently supports our gut instincts.

The male lead in this drama is a Levite, that is, of the tribe of Levi. You remember, the ones "consecrated to the service of the Lord," as Easton's Bible Dictionary puts it. The guy was supposed to be a religious leader of his day.

The female lead is a concubine. Yeah, the whole concubine thing has a lot of baggage. But back then it was culturally common and accepted. A concubine was not a mistress, but an unendowed wife, or secondary wife. Perhaps a wife that came with no dowry. Being a woman living at this time and a concubine to boot, she starts out the story at a disadvantage and it only gets worse for her from there.

Verse 2 tells us she was unfaithful and left her husband, fleeing back to her father's home in Bethlehem. We are only at verse 2 and we'll find respected Bible commentators clashing and raging in abject disagreement over the proper lesson to draw from the story.

John Wesley and Matthew Henry, likely heavily influenced by the culture of their day, see it all quite simply. And with pious pat answers state almost matter-of-factly that the woman was a whore and got what she deserved. As we read through their commentaries we can almost feel the sting of fire and smell the stench of brimstone as they essentially say: So you women better not go awhoring or you too might well end up like the concubine who was raped to death and cut into pieces.

A convenient and zealous, if not completely compassionate or accurate interpretation. Not all Bible scholars buy it. Dr. Claude Mariottini, Professor of Old Testament at Northern Baptist Seminary, points out while the Hebrew word "zanah" can infer sexual infidelity it can also mean “to be angry, hateful” or to “feel repugnant against.”

He argues if the woman had committed adultery, she would have been stoned to death. Period. End of story. Her jilted husband certainly would not come, hat-in-hand, determined to woo her back. Jewish historian Josephus concurs with this interpretation, and considering the fact that Josephus would be more culturally in tune with what was really going on here, his views should hold the most weight.

Now, we are only at verse 2 and a little investigation has modified our take on the whole story. We do not have a whoring wife flaunting a sin spree in the face of her devout pastor husband. Instead we have a common Jewish woman who became a second class wife (maybe because her father could not afford a dowry) to a "religious" guy who lives in the middle of nowhere.

By what Josephus records, it would appear that this husband did something to offend this wife. We do not know what. But it was bad enough to drive this woman to flee her husband and somehow travel a significant distance through clearly dangerous lands to seek the protection of her father. I find it interesting that I have yet to find a commentary that speculates on how the wife made this journey or even comments on the difficulty of the undertaking, not to mention the risks involved. Women did not travel alone. She had to be taking her life into her own hands.

How bad was life as this guy's wife? Did she fear for her life? (Not an outlandish question considering what ultimately happens to her). Whatever happened in this Levite's household remains shrouded in mystery -- as is the case ultimately with pretty much all marital discord. The full story will likely never be known. Still, we are left with these characters where they are.

A second-class wife has fled. Four months later, the husband comes to win her back. That brings us only to the first part of verse three. But blogs aren't meant to voluminous. So for today I will stop here.

(Judging Judges 19 Part 2 ... coming soon, comments welcome).

Building a Playhouse in Mikepercs

2009-07-10T16:21:00.003+02:00

In June friends gathered at the Chun House for an old fashioned barn raising. I guess it was more like a playhouse raising. Here are some photos from the event.

Tapasztalatok: A Feleség Munkaja

2009-05-14T12:58:00.003+02:00

Mindenki tud nagyon szeretem magyarországot. És nagyon szeretem a magyar embereket is.
De (sajnalom) mostanában tapasztaltam valamit nem szeretem magyarországon.

Ez egy kicsi dolog, de kifejez egy kulturalis elfogultság hogy szerintem elfogadhatatlan van.

Nő vagyok és szeretem épitni. Nem nagy ügy.

A ferjam szeretem kertezni. Nem nagy ügy.

De szerinti jo magyar barátunk, ez furcsa. Micsoda? Miert?

Nem jo kertez vagyok. Ha én a kertez vagyok, akkor minden noveny és minden virag az orias veszelyben van. Amikor probalok kertezni, minden meghal. Mint egy levéltetű vagyok.

A ferjam nagyon ugyes kertez. De nem puhany. Nem nőis ferfi. A ferjam katonaság volt (24év). Kettő háborún a közelkeleten a ferjam harcolt. Iranyitott raketat lelőt Iraqban. Ferjam legferfiasabb ferfi! De szeret viragok és nőveny. Hawaii-bol.

És a ferjam nem szeretni épitni. Most épitek egy jatszoház a gyerekeknek. Nagyon szép lesz.

Gondoltam ezt elfogultság volt csak a barátunk problemját, nem egz magyar problemát, akkor elmentek a Baumaxxba. Vartam az épites fa mellet, de senki sem jött segitni. Az Baumaxx dolgozók nezetnek rám. De senki sem jött.

Elmentem a vagas pult (amikor a fát a dolgozó vag). Vartam. Vartam. Senki sem jött. Végül egy közeli egy dolgozó jött.

"Jo Napot Kivanok!" ordittam reménytelenül.

A dolgozó nezet rám meglepődve. És az kezdő ijedtség utan, nagyon barátságos és hasznos volt.

És akkor megértem. A baumaxx dolgozó nem probalt lenni fargatlan. Csak furcsa magyarországon ha egy nő akar épites fát.

A világom, nem furcsa. És remelem a zsírkirálysirályságos játszóház épitek utan, mindenki Mikepércsen fog érti-- NEM FURCSA HA EGY NŐ ÉPIT -- csak nagyon kiraly!

Discovering "Falusi" Simplicity

2009-04-28T09:25:00.004+02:00

Simple.

The word has a derogatory connotation.

When something is simple, it is too easy for me -- not up to my intellectual level.

When a person is "simple," as many times people from Hungarian villages are easily labeled, we mean they are backward, unsophisticated, "not the sharpest knife in the drawer" so to speak.

Last week the simplicity of Hungarian village life poured into my home in the form of dirt. I arrived home late after taking our girls to their dance/gymnastics lessons only to find a definite layer of dirt all over the downstairs of our home. Although I was wearing house shoes, I could hear the grit under my feet with each step.

I quickly grabbed a broom and swept up enough dirt to plant a small, yet fertile, garden. "What happened here?" I thought to myself.

When Russ came in, I asked him about the layer of muck. I knew he always brought the boys home for icecream after baseball practice, but everyone takes off their shoes before entering a home in Hungary. It just did not make sense.

When questioned, Russ looked at me sheepishly. "Everyone took off their shoes," he insisted.

I shrugged my shoulders and commented, "I guess you guys played so hard they just got dirt inside their shoes."

Then Russell laughed a little. "Well actually," he stammered. "They took off their shoes and ran the bases in socks today."

My eyebrows raised into a large disbelieving arc. "Why?"

My husband threw his hands in the air. "They are 'falusi' (village kids)," he explained. "They said they run faster without shoes!"

I chuckled a little. "I hope they don't do that at a game in Budapest," I commented, thinking how embarrassing that would be.

Yeah, they are simple. But is that really so bad?

In 2005 17-year-old Steve Terret was found shot to death and shoeless in an alley on the south side of Chicago. Later investigation confirmed that he was killed for his $110 Nike AirJordan shoes.

That which these "simple" village kids so quickly lay aside, some city kids in this world have killed over.

Perhaps the village kids are on to something that could teach us a little about the Christian life. There is a reward in the laying aside of things. Of course, for these kids the reward was running faster. But for all of us so caught up in "acquisition" we often fail to ever understand the benefits of surrender.

"If you have only come as far as asking God for things, you have never come to the point of understanding the least bit of what surrender really means,"
Oswald Chambers noted, "You have become a Christian based on your own terms."

For the simple, surrender somehow comes easier. It is not clogged up with all our intellectual rantings, and analytical questions. Simplicity is able to recognize the point of stumbling AND willing to "cut it off" (Mark 9:43-45).

The Christian life in its fullness is simple surrender of everything we hold dear -- our very lives, that God "will give your life to you as a prize in all places, wherever you go." (Jeremiah 45:5 )God cannot give back what has not been fully given to Him.

"Once you do get to the point of total surrender to Him, you will be the most surprised and delighted person on earth..." Oswald Chambers comments in today's reading of My Utmost for His Highest. "If you are not there, it is either because of disobedience in your life or your refusal to be simple enough."

Maybe we all could use a touch of "Falusi" simplicity. Let's surrender our soles and run in the dirt for awhile. Maybe we will discover how much faster the surrendered soul can run.

Fűszeres Háború

2009-04-20T13:40:00.006+02:00

Itt van Tavaszt!

Ez az idő jatszani a kertben.

Ez az idő palántákat átültet a kertben.

És ez az idő gyilkolni a kertben is!

A férijam, Russell, az Amerikai katonasagban volt. Most nyugdíjas. És Russell nagyon szereti kertezni. Russell nagyon komoly kertész van. Minden éven, a szép rozsájat jönn elpusztit a gonosz levéltetű. A zöldellő növényt elfogyaszt a komisz hangya. És a gyümölcs fát lerombol sok bogarok!

A Russellnak, ez jelent háború!

De Russell nem szereti a kemia háborút. Ez a tavaszt, Russell csinal fuszeres háborút!

De nem mindig sikerül. Pedaul, a férjam tanult a interneten amikor a hangya eszik buza darat vagy grizt (cream of wheat), puffaszt a szemcse. Ezt eredményeként, a hangya kirobban! PUUFF! Russell kacag örömmel.

De amikor probalt, nem mükadik. A hangyak egy finom vacsorát élveznek. És a kutya nagyon szereti a fehér port. A kutya a fehér port szipákol mint kokain! Lehet buza darának rabja a kutya! Szegény kutya.

Russell probalt ujra. És egy masik fehér por mükadik! Nem, nem volt kokain! Hintőpor volt. A gyümölcs fa biztonságos.

Ma Törszvezér Russell felfejlődik az új stratégia -- FOKHAGYMA, ERŐS BORS, ÉS SZAPPAN!

Ez magikus főzettel Russell remel a rozsát megváltni és levéltetűi tömegsirt csinálni! (Gonosz kacag, he, he, he)

Vigyazz! A Chun csaladi kert egy nagyon veszelyes hely! (a rossz bogarnak).

Spiritual ADD/ADHD

2009-04-08T09:24:00.005+02:00

Confession: Last night I lost my temper.

It was ugly, but perhaps necessary. Niki (our eight year old) had homework and chose NOT to bring it home. An ill-conceived plot to avoid work (a skill Niki has perfected into a veritable artform). Luckily, her sister is in the same class, so I photocopied Andi's homework page and forced Niki to sit at the kitchen table and pour over it.

Niki is a classic ADHD. Her brain pilgramages to far off lands when academic exercises lay before her. I think many at school have written her off as not too bright. And granted she loves to play the helpless, the needy, the intellectually challenged in a masterful scheme to manipulate others into doing work for her.

Niki would rather be running outside collecting ladybugs and butterflies, composing her own off-tune ditties and frolicking around as she performs them, or just cutting up to win the affections of the kids sitting near her. To close her mouth and focus on reading or arithmetic: UGH! That's a fate worse than death.

But there she sat as I forced her to read the instructions aloud. She read ... poorly.

If course it was all Hungarian so I could not understand. The problem was she could not understand it either. As she made the sounds of each letter her eyes would drift away from the text, away from the paper, and soon she was making sounds for letters that did not exist.

"FOCUS!" I directed. I read the word aloud and asked her what it meant. She could not tell me. I had to call Andi over to translate and give her the instructions. Still, I kept my cool. I had her repeat the instructions and she said she understood.

"Okay, Niki I am going to read with Andi and when I return you should have the first one done. READ EACH WORD and underline the right ones," I directed.

When I returned, I noticed she had underlined every word and now pretended to toy with question 2. "Niki, did you read each word?" I asked.

Niki looked at me sheepishly. An incontestable wave of guilt rushed over her face. "I read the first one," quietly slipped from her lips.

The mercury of my internal thermometer shot up so quickly it broke the glass. "So you just guessed?" I snapped. "You did not even try?! I have NO patience for this!" I exploded. Niki burst into dramatic tears. You would have thought the world was ending. But I know that "Niki trick" all too well and I wasn't falling for it. I showed not even an ounce of sympathy for her life-shattering plight.

After sufficient verbal reprimand, I sat down beside her with fire still in my eyes and what do you think happened? With the exception of some struggles in reading the instructions, she whipped through the rest of the homework almost effortlessly.

I truly wanted to pull out my hair. She CAN do the work. Why must we reach such an ugly crisis point before she will chose to move forward in her academic duties and development?

Everytime I reach that point where I teeter on the brink of losing either my temper or my mind with one of my kids, it as if God taps me on my shoulder and whispers, "That's how you are with Me." And I can almost hear the gentle chuckle in His voice.

ADD/ADHD -- Attention Deficient Disorder/Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. It is a common struggle of adopted kids. Is it any wonder that we, who have been adopted into God's family, face a spiritual form of it?

So easily our hearts drift from the duties and development our God has placed before us as we would rather chase the brightly colored, twittering things of this world, focusing on our own self satisfaction rather than our sanctification. We would prefer the admiration of our social circles to the inspiration of the Spirit. How easily we drift away.

And for those who are big "do-ers", you can throw the "H" (hyperactivity) into the equation. Always busy. Very often busily doing good things, but wrapped up so tightly in insatiable activity, we find ourselves doing everything EXCEPT that homework that sits before us on the kitchen table. We may have even purposely stuffed it away and left it in our desk at school hoping to avoid having to deal with it at all.

Still, God, our Heavenly Father, stands over us and places the homework before us. But even in this close enviroment our eyes dart about the room. We may work through the first question, but we are sloppy and just guess rather than taking the time to properly work through what has been laid before us.

Thankfully, our Heavenly Father does not lose His temper. But He is sometimes willing to bring us each to a crisis point and it may be an ugly one. Out of His great love for us, He brings us to that place of breaking and draws us through our own salty tears to move us ahead in our spiritual development.

I hate the ugly crisis. I hate the raised voices, the tensed muscles, and the desperate sobs. Ahh, but what joy comes when Niki completes her work and does it well. She looks up at me as sheer delight twinkles in her big blue eyes and all that is left of the tears is salt-stained cheeks. She throws her skinny little arms around me and hugs me tightly. And I am truly proud of her.

Let's take some time to FOCUS and overcome our own spiritual ADD/ADHD.

Let's push through the exercise the Heavenly Father has placed before us this day for our own spiritual development and when it is complete and we have come through the crises, He will wrap his strong carpenter's arms around us frail beings and say, "Well done, my child. Well done."

A Szemüveg Epikus Kaland

2009-03-30T14:16:00.004+02:00

Andi a szemüveget szükség. Ezt nem egy tragedia. Sok gyerekek a szemüveget szükség.
És nem lepetés meg nekunk volt. Én szemem nem működik jol, és Russell gyakorlatilag vak! Azért, Andi genetikain kudarcra ítél volt.

De nem tudtam hogy megszerezni a szemüveg Andi-nak, kell beszállni egy epikus kaland. A kaland tartalmaz sok, sok időpontok.

Első lépés: A védőnö az osztaly egy szem vizsga ad.

Masodik lépés: Andi nem sikerült. Kell menni az falusi orvoshoz. Az orvos az ugyanaz szem vizsgat csinal. Az orvos mond, hogy kell menni az szemorvos. Csinal a papir.

Harmodik lépés: Varunk, varunk, és varunk -- harom vagy négy hét-ig, akkor a szemorvos időpont jön.

Negyedik lépés: A szemorvos időpontal, MEGINT Andi csinal az ugyanaz szem vizsgat. (Harmodik szor). Mindenki egyezik, van egy problem Andi szemevel. Az orvos nem ott. De az alkalmazottak mond, hogy nekunk kell visszajönni. Andi szemcseppet 3x minden nap 4napnak szükség a következő időpontja előtt.

Ötödik lépés: Visszajövunk a szemorvoshoz. A szemorvos nagyon kellemes ember mond, hogy "Igen Andi szemüveget szükség." Nekunk kell visszajönni MEGINT a recept kapni. MICSODA!?!?!

Hatodik lépés: A szemüveg receptot elsajátítunk a szemorvosbol.

Hetedik lépés: Megyunk a szemüveg boltba és a szemüveget rendelunk.

Nyolcodik lépés: Visszajövunk a szemüveg boltba és a szemüveget kapni.

Ez a héten, Andi és én hatodik lépés befejezni fogunk. Sok, sok hét előtt, az epikus kaland kezdődtunk. Nem elkészült megnem. Nem tudom ha ez kaland sikerült leszunk vagy nem.

De biztos, ez egy epikus kaland van!

Kiraly-Siraly ez a magyar élet! Szeretem!

For the Non-Hungarian Speakers: The Hospital Adventure

2009-03-02T08:50:00.005+01:00

Recently, I had to brave the perils of the Hungarian medical bureaucracy. Let me preface this blog entry by stating that I have come across many fine doctors in the Hungarian system whom I would trust implicitly with my health and the health of my family. However, getting to these accomplished professionals requires something akin to a Safari deep into the jungles of Hungarian medical bureaucracy, a treacherous journey with no guarantees of safe arrival at your desination.

My daughter Niki, a drama queen in her own right (with hypocondriac tendencies) announced to her teacher one day that her heart hurt. Of course, the teacher, being a responsible adult quickly called me deeply concerned about Niki's well being. I knew immediately it was simply heartburn, but proceeded to have her checked out as she has a history of gastrointestinal issues. After an initial visit to the village doc, whom we all love, we were sent into darkest jungles of Hungarian medical bureaucracy known to Hajdu Bihar county: Kenezy hospital, pictured below in the previous blog.

It is a sprawling campus of nondescript concrete building all sporting various shades of communist-era gray. A few maps exist, but they are far too confounding to provide legitimate assistance to the layperson. Niki and put on our brave faces, bundled with hats and coats and set out on our expedition to find pediatric gastroenterology. The wind stung our faces with its icy chill as we left the main building and began to wander.

I felt very much like a rat trapped in the maze of some sick psychological experiment. Along the way, I asked for directions several times and pleasant faced doctors, nurses, and other hospital workers happily directed me to precisely the wrong building everytime. It was as if there were some grave conspiracy afoot and I can't help but wonder if the "helpful strangers" plotted data as they watched with grim grins as the foreigner (rat) struggled through the impassable maze in a desperate search for health care for her child.

Finally, at the furtherest end, we found the tiny building. I put a pathetic look on my face (which wasn't hard at this point) and used my canned Hungarian phrase, "Excuse me, I only speak a little Hungarian and I do not know what to do here."And I handed the hospital worker Niki's paper.

Once we finally reached the gastroenterologist, she proved to be a kind and professional doctor, reading through Niki's volumous medical records with interest and sympathy. And as we proceeded to the blood test, Niki charmed them all with her announcement that she was brave and would not cry when stuck with a needle. And she proudly kept that promise.

But the best was yet to come. We were sent back across the vast campus in sub zero weather to get a sonogram of her digestive tract. After much trifling with that "rat in a maze" scenario again, I found the window where I must put in my paperwork. I stood in line dutiful, as any civilized human being would, but when the window opened, the little old lady behind me pushed ahead and shoved her paperwork in front of mine.

These little old ladies are tough. They think they have a right to push to the head of the line. And to a great extent, they get away with such behavior. But on this day, after being played like a rat in a maze, I was not putting up with it. I may not be an old timer, but I am no pushover either! Enough already.

She might have age on her side, but I was not unarmed. I had a cute eight year old girl and I wasn't afraid to use her. I placed the paperwork in Niki's hands and pushed her in front of the old lady. We all watched with anticipation to see who would get their paperwork in first.

And then it happened. Wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles. The lady in the window took our paperwork first. Ha! That will teach that little old lady!

It was a day of great victory, not only for Niki and myself, but for peace-loving people everywhere who have been pushed out of line by little old ladies, trained to become masters in this art during the communist era. Who can compete with that? I will tell you who! I can. I did! I reveled in my victory.

But then the woman at the window proceeded to give me instructions. "What?" I said. " I am sorry, but I do not understand. Can you say that again? ground floor? What about the ground floor?" I melted into helplessness and that little old lady whom I had so artfully subverted turned to me in her kindest Hungarian and said, "It's alright, darling. You just come with me I will show you..."

Alas! How short lived a victory! Now again I find myself at the mercy of Hungarian little old ladies.

Perhaps it is my destiny. Little old ladies rule the world and I should accept this. But bear in mind, I am watching their technique closely and learning from the best.

And so this is my consolation: I may have to squirm at their mercy now, but one day I too will be a little old lady. Be afraid, be very afraid.

Korhazi Kaland/öreg néninek hatalmában

2009-02-19T12:04:00.007+01:00

Ma Niki és én a Kenézy Korházba elment. Niki egy időpont van gasztroenterologia tanszekban.

Én nem szeretem jonni a Kenézy Korázba. Ez a lehetetlen hely. Kenézy mint egy labirintus. És amikor ott vagyok, Úgy érzem magam, mintha kísérleti patkány lennék egy őrült tudományos kísérletben.

Fél ora kerestunk a gasztroenterologia epulet. Kérdeztuk öt emberek, de senki tud ahol a épület van. Ketto ember szinlelt tudni. Iranyitnak a rossz épület!

Nagyon hideg volt. De jo testmozgas! Kenézy nagyon nagy kampusz.

Az orvosi vizsgalat utan, nekunk kell menni a ultrahang tanszek. Az ellenérdekű fél Kenézy kampusz, PERSZE!

Niki es én nagyon szépes sorban all az ablak elott. De mindenki nem mint a szép! Egy örég néni benyom engem előtt lenni. "Micsoda! Mit Csinálsz?" gondoltam. "Nem rajtad a sor!" De a néni fütyül rá. Eltökélt engem előtt lenni!

Elég! Lehet nem öreg motoros vagyok, de nem gyümölcskrém vagyok akármelyik!

"Oreg néni vagy, de fegyvertelen vagyok. Arányos kis lányam van!" gondoltam. Adtam Nikinak a fontos orvosi papirt es kuldtem Nikit az ablakra. A néni ha'tte'rbe sorul!

óriási győzelem volt! Sok eves a neni zsarnokok elnyomtak bekes embereket. Ma a békes emberek visszaütés. Ma a győzelem nap!

De akkor a ablak hölgy magyaraz valamit es en nem ertem! Hova megyunk? Nem értem? Foldszint? Micsoda? Megzavarodott voltam! Segiseg valakit!

Az öreg néni jött es mondj hogy, "En segits. Gyere, drágam."

Nagyon gáz. A diadalam nem édes most. Megint, az öreg néninek hatalmában vagyok.

Lehet végzetem; öreg nénik a világ uralkodnak. Csak vigasz, egy napon én is egy öreg nénit leszem!

Tapasztalatok: Első osztály, felfedezés, és műszélszorulás

2009-02-06T12:41:00.007+01:00

Két lanyam van. Mindaketten első osztályban most.

Első osztály nagyon érdekes idő. Ez tanulni idő, felfedezni idő.

Andi és Niki tanultak hogy a betűk tudnak csinalni szavak. Csodalatos!

A lanyok matematikat felfedeztek. Megragadó!

De ez a hét, Andi és Niki valamit nagyon érdekes tanultak. Egy fiu iskolában, Aron, tanult nekik hogy csinalni faragatlanas hangok a hónaljjal! A csunya zaj a hazban visszahang folyamatosan. Most a hazam egy bástyat műszélszorulásnak. Persze sok kuncogás is. Köszönöm szépen, Aron!

Szerintem nem csak én hazam szenved ezt a végzettől. Minden elsős haza is! Én biztos minden anya Mikepércsen mond hogy "Bakker! Ez GAZ! Nem a szép dolog iskolaban tanulni!"

De minden elsős kell tanulni a fontos dologok. Amerikaban vagy Magyaroszagon -- a fontos dologok marad ugyanúgy. És mi az több fontos egy elsősnak mint tanulnak csinalni műszélszorulás?

Today, I am a Grouch!

2009-02-03T13:53:00.006+01:00

Grouchy.

I don't need anyone to tell me. I know that's what I am today. I have no patience for anyone. No one can live up to my expectations. I am simply a grouch.

Oh, yes, I could blame it on being female. You know, hormonal moodswings and the like. But at the end of the day all the excuses in the world don't change the fact that I'm just a big fat grouch!

It's cloudy and cold -- but not cold enough to snow. It's just that damp, miserable cold that can only be redeemed by a hot cup of tea and a good book. But today, even tea, with all its mystical powers, cannot cheer me up. I'm grouchy. And I'm tired and can't seem to get anything worthwhile accomplished.

I am annoyed with the IRS who cannot seem to spare a single human being in the vastness of it's nearly 90,000 strong bureaucracy to answer my letters and deal with our 2007 return.

I am offended by those who have lied regarding their wellbeing in order to exploit the local church and ministry to their own ends, and seem to show no remorse.

I feel trapped inside some ministries where I have not been equipped with the necessary God-given gifts, and trapped outside the ministries where the gifts I have are more of a fit.

In a nutshell, I am just one big grouch today. I likely am not seeing things as they really are -- as grouchiness is one big black ugly cloud, which only skews vision further. And I know that in my brain, but in my emotions, I want to be mean and out-right audacious. I want to say something shocking, full of audacity, to the liars and to the IRS. GRRRrrrrr. I'd like to be so, so ... UNchristlike and revel in it! But that would be a bad choice.

So, instead, I will keep my mouth shut, and simply confess by way of blog that I am a grouch.

HELP!!!!!!!

2009-01-29T19:44:00.002+01:00

HELP!!!!

We hear this cry a lot on the mission field. Sometimes it’s because someone has recognized their spiritual state and they cry out to the only God who can do something about it. But more often, and especially in the face of the recent economic crisis, it comes from people who are looking for people “help” them out of their own financial straits.

Of late, we’ve heard a great many cries for help. Desperate people in desperate situations. And since much of our work is with orphans – some now grown and on the own – they do not have the safety net of family to fall back on.

They have all made choices that have brought them to this point; many of those choices terribly unwise – not unexpected of a youth with no parents who was raised by the state. But as a result, a girl in her twenties wonders how she will feed her two year old in the months ahead. A boy, not yet 20, huddles for warmth in the local homeless shelter. And even in our village a poor family tries to figure out how to pay for their son’s chemotherapy. He has stomach cancer.

“Help!” they cry, wanting the cash they need to meet their basic needs. And those needs are all too real.

But cash is the easy way out.

How do we truly help them? For the orphan kids who are now grown, cash handouts only perpetuate the problem. They have always lived off the social welfare system. No one has ever been there to teach them how to rely on God and take responsibility for themselves. And yet we cannot sit back and allow them to starve.

Right now we are working through a process. Understanding that God has always, since the very beginning, been all about relationship, we realize that we are called to be in relationship with these. We must walk beside them, listen to them in their suffering, and hold them accountable.

For the young mother, we are striving to teach her how to be on her own and think through the things she must think through (childcare, budgets, etc) to be a responsible adult, helping her with the basics (food, firewood) along the way. But that alone is not enough. We must also teach her how to rely on God to meet her needs – which is a tall order for those of us who aren’t so good at it ourselves.

Perhaps here the teacher becomes the student.

Do we really believe God can supply all our needs? Even the needs of a poverty-stricken young mother, a homeless grown orphan, and poor village family with a son suffering from cancer? Can God truly supply even their needs?

If we truly believed it, perhaps we would spend more time in prayer about it and less time throwing cash at the problem.

Cash giving in some cases has its role – but perhaps more significant is the giving of time on our knees, time in fellowship with the suffering and time teaching those who have never had a chance to learn the basics of life – in the physical world as well as the spiritual. Perhaps more important than cash is what we give of ourselves.

And so in this spirit, I wish to ask all who read this blog to give a bit of themselves by praying for Reni the young mother who needs both childcare and a job. Pray for Arpi who needs a home and work, and the Olah family whose son Norbi suffers from stomach cancer. Pray that God would show each of them that He, himself, – not some ministry nor some person – is the one who supplies their needs, according to His riches in glory. And may this lesson be a testimony to all of us. Amen.

To Touch a Broken Girl's Heart

2009-01-20T15:23:00.005+01:00

They all looked up at me, some in expectation, many in skepticism, perhaps all secretly hoping that this weekend would bring some peace to their wounded worlds. This past weekend was our conference for the girls of the Miskolc Children's Home. We brought them to our village -- a good two hour trip from their institutionalized home.

The walls were raised high and perhaps re-inforced when they arrived of Friday night. Many were determined not to let anyone in. And it would be naive of any of us involved in the planning or ministry to expect that a 36 hour getaway to break through walls erected by more than a decade of hurt and pain. Our ministry is not a weekend, a series of sessions, or even the bible study Russ leads every week. It has to be long-term, consistent and loving, or it is worth little. These girls have experienced affection for a moment, but have not known a love that truly endures.

And so we talked a lot about love last weekend. Yeah, we talked about boys, and what they want. We talked about ourselves and what we seek in a relationship. And the difference between the two. But if there was any message that I pray the girls took home with them, it was the message of the last session -- the message of God's love for them.

We looked at several true stories from scripture -- Leah, the ugly one who was unloved all her days; Hagar, the used; and David's daughter Tamar, raped by her own half-brother. They are harsh stories, dysfunctional families that remind us all too poigniantly of how imperfect our world is. They are stories to which these girls could relate.

We looked at Mary and Martha and wondered together why Jesus arrived too late. And we discovered what Jesus does when he sees us in our pain. Just like with Mary and Martha, he weeps for us. The God who created heaven and earth sees us in our pain and his heart breaks. And he weeps.

But he does not stop there. He also longs to bring us restoration, but he will not force it upon us. We must be willing to take him to that ugly place where we have buried all our pain. We must be willing to roll back the stone so that he can bring resurrection to the ugly rotting dead things of our lives.

I left the conference wondering if it was even worthwhile -- if any message broke through. I watched as many of the girls left with those walls still strongly barricaded. But as I look at them, perhaps I am looking at the wrong place.

Isaiah 45:22 challenges us to: "Look to Me, and be saved". Through this conference we continually directed the girls to look to Him. We strove to show them they are now alone in their suffering, and more than that, there is a God who truly finds them precious -- like treasure. And his love does not fade. It is truly Agape.

Maybe I need to stop looking for instant gratification in spiritual ministry. Instead, I need to simply look to Him. "Our difficulties, our trials, and our worries about tomorrow all vanish when we look to God," Oswald Chambers wrote in his devotional slated for this date. But other things vanish too: our arrogance, our insecurity, our need to be a "success", our need for instant gratification in our spiritual walk.

The Lord cries out, "Look to Me." Why do I look everywhere else except at Him?

I only need to lift my eyes and I am made complete in the spectacular view.

Do You Know What You are Asking?

2009-01-06T10:05:00.009+01:00

"You don’t know what you are asking!" -- Mark 10:38 (NLT)

In Mark 10:46-52, Jesus healed a blind guy named Bartimaeus. It is a story most of us have heard from childhood. You know the story:

Jesus sees him and asks, “What do you want me to do for you?”

“My rabbi,” the blind man answers with the obvious, “I want to see!"

On Sunday, our pastor, Bodi, who is also a medical doctor, explained exactly what would have to happen in the intricate complexities of the eye for a blind man to completely receive sight instantaneously.

First, consider how complex the eye truly is:

"The human eye is enormously complicated - a perfect and interrelated system of about 40 individual subsystems, including the retina, pupil, iris, cornea, lens and optic nerve. For instance, the retina has approximately 137 million special cells that respond to light and send messages to the brain. About 130 million of these cells look like rods and handle the black and white vision. The other seven million are cone shaped and allow us to see in color. The retina cells receive light impressions, which are translated to electric pulses and sent to the brain via the optic nerve. A special section of the brain called the visual cortex interprets the pulses to color, contrast, depth, etc., which allows us to see "pictures" of our world. Incredibly, the eye, optic nerve and visual cortex are totally separate and distinct subsystems. Yet, together, they capture, deliver and interpret up to 1.5 million pulse messages a milli-second! It would take dozens of Cray supercomputers programmed perfectly and operating together flawlessly to even get close to performing this task." (Lawrence O. Richards, It Couldn't Just Happen, Thomas Nelson 1989)

So Jesus would have to heal the man in a way that brought all these complex systems into proper order, restoring all damage. But that alone would not be enough to restore his sight. Even if the eyes were instantly healed and placed in proper working order, he would not be able to see until the brain re-learned how to interpret all those impulses, like an infant learns to see in its first few months outside the womb.

So the healing had to reach far beyond his eyes and into his brain. And it did. Instantly, everything fell into perfect working order, all damage restored AND the brain supernaturally knew how to interpret all these new signals.

When Bartimaeus cried out, "I want to see!" He did not know all that he was asking of Christ. He wasn't thinking, "Hey Jesus, could you get all those millions of cones and rods in my eyes to start working properly along with fixing the problems with the retina and optic nerve and then make sure the brain can interpret the signals so I can see." He simply wanted to see. Jesus understood the complexities of what he was asking but He did not bat an eyelash. He just did it. And Bartimeus eye's instantly beheld a world that he had previously known only by sound and touch.

However, in the scene before this (Mark10:35-40), two of Christ's disciples made a spiritual request. They wanted to be the greatest in the Kingdom of God. It is not necessarily a bad aspiration. Aspiring toward spiritual greatest on some level is a good thing, right? And Christ does not chastise them for the desire, but instead He responds with chilling sobriety, "You do not what you are asking."

Indeed there is a price to be paid for spiritual greatness, for it is not like the greatness of this world, regardless of culture. It requires humility, sacrifice, and pain. A tough journey. It was a request that involved what Christ would have to bring them through. And Christ appropriately responds, "You do not know what you are asking..."

But as I reflect on these two requests, I begin to realize that in all those requests that we so readily throw up to heaven, we rarely truly know what we are asking. Even the little things that do not seem so remarkable or miraculous, those things our Lord does not hesitate to answer, often require his workings in things far beyond what we think we are asking.

And all the more in our spiritual requests. We see only the glory and not misery and wilderness we will have to pass through to reach it. We do not know what we are asking.

Perhaps we would do well to reflect a little more on the magnitude of God's workings and what He has called us to in this life.

May we begin to grasp with sobriety what we are asking as we utter supplications to our Lord. For when we begin to understand what we are asking, we will begin to understand more of who He is.

Trophy or Tool?

2008-12-10T12:55:00.000+01:00

Have you ever wanted to be God’s trophy – all shiny and sparkly with the glory of heaven? The kind of thing that’s put on display, under glass for all to admire. For those who aspire to excel in the public area, be it through music, preaching, teaching or writing, the longing to be God’s trophy in some shape or form rushes through our veins with a fury.

But I cannot find a single reference in scripture where God calls us to be his trophies. We are instead called to be “witnesses” (Acts 1:8), “disciples” (Matt 28:19), “vessels “(Romans 9:21), and “implements of righteousness “(Romans 6:13). In short, we are called to be tools.

Tools are far less glorious things than trophies. They dwell not in showcases, but on hooks, in boxes or in drawers. They aren’t necessarily so interesting to look at. They aren’t pretty. And they can have no ambition unto themselves. They are wholly dependent, serving no purpose at all, unless they rest in the Craftsman’s hand.

Oswald Chambers writes: “If you seek great things for yourself, thinking, ‘God has called me for this and for that,’ you barricade God from using you. As long as you maintain your own personal interests and ambitions, you cannot be completely aligned or identified with God’s interests.”

So what does that mean? That the singer should never sing again, the preacher never again expound the Word, the writer never again place word on paper? I don’t think so. But I do think it challenges us all to consider WHY we want to be God’s trophies? For this is not a call of God, but a call of self.

We would be better suited, however, if we stopped thinking of ourselves in the use of our gifts as trophies and began to see ourselves a mere tools. That requires a death of our own ambition for the sake of His ambition to be realized in our life. But is that really so much of a sacrifice?

For in the end, a trophy is terribly hollow, cold, and untouched, and untouching vessel. It tarnishes with time and even the safety of protective glass cannot change it. But a tool regularly experiences the warm magic of the Master Craftsman’s touch as He uses it to fashion something beautiful in the lives of others.

May we learn how to simply rest as tools in His hand that He might use us to craft His masterpieces in this world.

Tapasztalatok: Aldi és Ifjúság

2008-11-24T14:08:00.003+01:00

Aldi magyarorszagon most. És én nagyon szeretem Aldit.

Miért?

Lehet mert sok Német dologok tudok venni ott -- mint fekete erdei sonka vagy német csoki. Ez egy jó okot, de nekem, egészen másmilyen okok.

Lehet mert legolcsobb tonhal és nem nagyon draga lazac. Ujra, ez egy jó okot. De nem eleg nekem.

Én vásárok Aldi-ben, mert szerinti Aldi, nagyon fiatal vagyok! Ez igaz!

Oktoberben, elment az Aldi-re venni bort. Amikor fizettem, a pénztáros azt mondt hogy, "Személyi igazolvány, kérek szépen."

Én mondtam hogy "tessék? Csak egy kicsi beszélek magyarul."

A pénztáros mosolyogot és azt mondt hogy "passport?"

Megzavarodott voltam. Miért szükségnek az útlevélem? Soha történt elott.

Akkor a ferfi mögött engem azt mondt hogy "Mi baj? A hölgy 30 éves legalább!"

"Ahhhh, értem," gondoltam. "I'm being carded!"

Én mosolyogotam. "Nagyon öreg vagyok!" Én mondtam hogy. Mutattam az útlevélem. "40 éves leszek marciusban!!!!!"

Nagyon vicces volt, goldoltam. De amikor elmeséltem Russell-tol mit történt, kacagot!

Szerint Russell, ez az új értékesítési módok. Aldi pénztáros kell mondani az öreg hölgyek jónak és fiatalnak látszik. Akkor öreg hölgyek az Aldiben akar vásárni.

Lehet Russell helyes. Lehet csak egy új értékesítési módok.

Én azt mondom hogy ez egy nagyon jó értékesítési módok. Munkadik!!!!!!!

Gotcha Day!

2008-11-17T08:34:00.003+01:00

On Saturday 15 November the Chun family celebrated GOTCHA day! That's two years since the day we got Niki. It was a day full of fun and surprises, topped off by a raklett(sp?) dinner and a decadant chocolate cake with vanilla pudding filling. Here are some photos of the event.

The World According to Andi

2008-11-09T18:44:00.005+01:00

"It is a good thing we know, 'Jo napot kivanok!' Because if we didn't, we'd have to 'csokolom' all over the place." Andi Chun. November 9, 2008.

(For those who do not know Hungarian, I will leave it to your imagination)

Declaring DEpendence Day!

2008-11-05T10:06:00.004+01:00

Well, elections are over. And as Americans whinny "woo hoos!" or wail "boo hoos!" over the results, I find myself worlds away pondering, not the glories of independence and the stars and stripes, but the sanctity of dependence in the Christian life.

Dependence? Ick. It reeks of weakness and helplessness -- void of security, self sufficiency and all those things we cherish most. For those of us who are Americans, our culture and national history and pride are rooted in independence. It represents a fundamental element of our national identity. And as a result, I fear, it oozes over into our understanding of the Christian life.

But let me throw in a curve ball. What if God never created us for independence?

Think about it. From the earliest days of creation in the garden, when the world was perfect, man was not independent. He was truly DEpendent on God for everything and he knew it. God provided his food, his water, and even his companionship. Man recognized God as truly Jehovah Jireh.

It was man's demand for independence that got him into trouble there.

Now we go through life masquerading under a facade of independence, but are we really so independent? Children depend on parents, husbands on wives and vice versa. Families and individuals depend on their jobs. Many older people depend on social security... etc. The list goes on and on.

So it is not that we are truly INdependent. It is simply that we are independent of God. Perhaps one's true god is what he depends upon most -- be it one's work, one's belongings, one's money, one's romantic interest/spouse/ child, or even a presidential candidate.

I recently read the book, The Shack. In it, William Young paints a beautiful representation of the interdependence of the Godhead, rooted in the purest deepest form of love and fellowship. He longs for us to tap into it, but that comes only if we surrender that independence that charms us most -- which is little more than dependence on things other than God himself. It demands a breaking.

Oswald Chambers put it this way in Monday's devotional: "Has that breaking of my independence come? All the rest is religious fraud. The one point to decide is— will I give up? Will I surrender to Jesus Christ, placing no conditions whatsoever as to how the brokenness will come? I must be broken from my own understanding of myself. When I reach that point, immediately the reality of the supernatural identification with Jesus Christ takes place. And the witness of the Spirit of God is unmistakable— 'I have been crucified with Christ . . . .'"

Want to do something radical? How about declaring DEpendence day. Ironically, that day of surrender may bring the greatest victory your life has ever known.

Can we say, "I want dependence!" Dependence, no matter what God asks me to walk through, however the brokenness may come, I give up the right to know "why"all the time. I make the choice to simply depend.

Tapastalatok: A Kórház élmény

2008-10-14T13:19:00.006+02:00

A Magyar kórház nagyon érdekes hely --különösen a betegnek!

Russell hat nap a kórházban volt. Egy nagyon dramatikus multi-kulturalis élmény volt.

Amerikai emberek és Magyar emberek nagyon különböző fogolomok meztelenség illetőleg.

Szerint az Amerikai ember, ruha nem csak egy divatos dolog. A ruha egy fontos dolog. Az Amerikai ember nem akar masik emberek a meztelen testje latni. Nagyon kinos!!!!!!

De a magyar nem nagyon aggodalmaskodó. Neha, nagyon boldog felfedni több test mint senki sem akar latni.

Ez igaz különösen a korhazban.

Amikor Russell a kórházban volt, szobatársa van. A harmadik nap, az uj sobatárs jött. A név Nagy Ferenc.

Nagy Ferenc nagyon baratsagos ferfi. Ferenc üdvözöl mindenki a szobaban a mosogolyyal. Mindenki szereti Nagy Ferenc. Ez nagyon bűbájos ember beszelgetnek Russellel es a masik magyar beteggel a szobababan. Magyaraz az operációjat. Ferenc mondj hogy "Itt van a röntgenképet, és az operáció itt lesz."

Most a baratsagos Ferenc felfedt a meztelen feneke!

Eh! Ez túl sok informacio a Amerikai szemeknek.

Az igaz mindenki szereti Nagy Ferenc, de szerintem ez volt túl sok Nagy Ferenc szeretni.

Nagy Ferenc operacioja sikerül volt, és a jövö nap elment boldogan a haza.

De szerintem, Russell lehet soha felépül teljesen a multikuluralis élménytol a Nagy Ferenccel.

The Gift

2008-10-10T08:50:00.001+02:00

"There's far more to this life than trusting in Christ. There's also suffering for him. And the suffering is as much a gift as the trusting." --The Message Phillipians 1:29

Lullaby of Heaven

2008-10-03T13:35:00.004+02:00

Listen!

Do you hear it?

Listen hard. It's drowned out by the sounds of cell phones ringing, TVs blaring, and all the pressures of daily life, but it is still there.

But it can be, oh so hard to hear.

It is a melody than can only originate one place. It whispers from the highest halls of heaven and seeks to tenderly comfort the human ear. It is the lullaby of heaven.

Why do we sing lullabies to babies?

To provide comfort, to create security, and to bring the child into a place of rest.

We too need to hear such lullabies, especially when we fall in to the valleys of life. And such lullabies are ringing out right now, if we will only stop to listen.

The lullaby of heaven poured out boldly last week when a pregnant horse and a ping-pong table landed my husband in the hospital for a week. But it rings out with equal comfort when day to day drudgery drives me into melacholy mediocrity.

It rings out when the piles of laundry start to resemble the insurmountable great Alps and when the leak under the kitchen sink which looked like a dribble yesterday begins to rush like Victoria Falls today-- with no plumber in sight!

It is a lullaby that says "Yes, in the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world." (John 16:23) It says, "And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age." (Matt 28:20)

And it was celestially designed from the dawn of time to draw us completely into His rest. (Hebrews 4).

So take a moment to turn down the volume on the blaring ruckus we call life. And listen closely. You may hear a lullaby from heaven meant just for you.

There's a melody of comfort
for human hearts that cry,
for those so pained,
whose hopes have waned,
a celestial lullaby.

It's a melody from heaven
that bathes your heart with light,
to dry your tears,
and soothe your fears,
through the dark and stormy night.

And when that lullaby from heaven
seems so far away
Know that it rings still,
and always will,
for all who dare to pray

And the lullaby of heaven
will bring you through this test.
Just incline your ear
Let Him draw you near
Into His perfect rest.

"Birth Pains" in Becoming "Falusi" (Village person)

2008-09-25T15:32:00.009+02:00

In my last blog, I wrote (in feeble Hungarian) how I longed to be not simply a person who lived in a village, but a true "falusi", that is, village person. But if one is not born into this world "falusi", it seems the tranformation does not occur without a certain amount of pain.

Our birth into falusi-hood occured on Tuesday afternoon. We had planned to begin a youth group with the local reformed church. It was to start Friday and would feature Ping-Pong and Spaghetti -- quite an attraction, right?

Our Roma (gypsy) neighbors kindly offered to help us get the ping-pong table from our garage to the small house the church was to let us use. The mode of transportation would be the Roma famy's horse and wagon. Russ loaded the table on the back of the rig and as he stepped on, the horse spooked. The neighbor's son, Guszti, raced forward to grab the horse's bridal. Russ jumped to the seat and grabbed the reigns. Both Guszti and Russ pulled on the reigns with all their might, but the horse only grew more wild, dragging Guszti with it as it dashed down the road.

The boy finally let go. Russ though for sure he'd be hit by the wagon wheel. But he managed to get out of the way unharmed, but shaken. Russ failed in his effort to control the firey beast and in its tirade, the horse managed to flip both Russ and the ping-pong table out of the wagon.

Guszti ran to our house and got me as Russ lay on the side of the street, his head gashed and bleeding. He complained of some pain on the left side of his chest as I grabbed the first aid kit and tried to stop the bleeding. Neighbors began to pour out of their homes. One called the ambulance and we waited.

Russ was conscious, but closed his eyes to rest. He opened them to see Guszti's mom scrubbing the blood off his hands with soap and water as a half smoked cigarette hung from her lips. AHHH Village life!

When the ambulance came, we were glad to learn the mentő (EMT) spoke English well. He put a neck brace on him and placed him on the stretcher. As they rushed to the hospital they came across an automobile accident and said they may have to stop and help.

Imagine that, Carpooling the injured in an ambulance. It seems it wasn't a good day for many people.

At the hospital Russ was in and out of various rooms, getting x-rays, stitches etc. When I arrived he was wrapped in white netting that resembled that headgear of olympic water polo players. We were first told he had to stay over night. Then after more x-rays they determined he must stay 4-5 days.

They placed him in a room with several men in serious condition. And there he became something of a celebrity. They all were perplexed to understand how this Asian- American from Hawaii ended up living in a Hungarian village and how he managed to get in an accident involving a horse and wagon and a ping-pong table in that village.

Meanwhile every Falusi on our street wanted to help and constantly inquired about Russ' well being. One neighbor even baked pastries for him. Ahhh, sweet village life.

Friends at church met us at the hospital to help with translation and to give general moral support. They were such a delight that Russ heard the guy in the bed next to him telling them about how that American had all the people in here and they were having a party!

The next day after I visited him, the orderly, who spoke English, said "You no longer need intensive care."

Russ thought, "I did not know I was in intensive care!" And they settled him in a new room on another floor.

Today when the doctors made their rounds, Russ blurted out --"So when do I go home?" Some of docs were taken aback, but then a Canadian doctor stepped forward and began speaking with him.

"Do you know what is going on with you?" She asked.

"No, I don't know anything," Russ responded.

She explained that he has something known as a window fracture, which means there is more than one fracture in each of more than one adjacent ribs -- creating a window in the ribcage. (doctors correct me if I described that wrong) They must monitor it carefully to make sure it remains intact. We do not want any rib pieces floating around in there. (Our doctor friend in America, Thom Bresley, wrote that it is called "flail chest" in English. He said it is "not good" but "will heal as long as he can breath with the window." The good news is that Russ is breathing relatively comfortably.)

"Didn't they give you the rubber glove with the tube?" the Canadian doc asked yesterday.

"Yeah, I found that here," Russ responded rather confused. He kind of thought it was some sort of joke. After all, no one bothered to tell him what to do with it.

She told him that his job was to continually blow up the rubber glove -- some sort of therapy to make sure the lungs are not being affected by the "window," I suppose.

So now he knows what to do with the glove.

And thanks to the Canadian doc, he has a little more information on his medical status. And we await news of when he can return home.

Our Hungarian friends say that once you've had an accident involving a horse and wagon, you are truly Falusi!

It is a title we'll cherish as it has come with quite a price.

I am Falusi. Hear Me Roar!

2008-09-22T07:59:00.012+02:00

Lenni falusi. Ez egy érdekes dologot.

Szerint sok városi magyarok, ez nem jó dologot. De én nem egyezem. Szerintem, lenni falusi nagyon kölönleges.

Mi az igazi falusi? Csak lakni a faluban? Nem szerintem. Sok emberek Mikepercsen laknak, de mindenki nem falusi.

A falusi nagyon leleményes. Ha valami rossz, a városi a boltba megy es visz új valamit. De a falusi megjaviti.

A falusi nagyon edzett is. Amikor esik az eső a városi szüleim jön iskolába a kocsiban a gyerekeknek. De igazi falusi sétál az esőban es falusi gyerekek a haza bicikliznek az esőban. Nincs problema!

A falusi nagyon önálló. A falusi hölgy a házi tésztát csinál. A falusi ferfi házi pálinkát csinal. Tészta es pálinka -- Mit más szükségnek?

A falusi élet egy egyszerű élet van, tejes kerekpárokkal és kis fagyizókkal. Ez egy jó élet. Lehet A jó élet.

Remelem egy napon én nem csak egy faluban lakok. Remelem egy falusi leszek is.

A falusi élet: Mit egy gyönyörű élet!

Making Progress

2008-09-16T09:08:00.008+02:00

"Be diligent in these matters; give yourself wholly to them, so that everyone may see your progress. Watch your life and doctrine closely. Persevere in them, because if you do, you will save both yourself and your hearer." 1Timothy 4:15-16 Amplified

Over the past two weeks I have watched my daughters emerge into the world of school. They proudly bear the title "iskolas" (school kid) now as they organize and pack their backpacks gearing up for another day of first grade. Two weeks ago life was the same old thing. And then it happened. They became first graders and a whole new world opened up for them.

After the first day, I asked Andi how it went. "It was AMAZING!" she cheered and Niki danced all the way home after the classes let out. It was sheer delight, facsination. And it did not stop there. Not only do they get to learn lessons and begin to read words by themselves and earn a periodic "piros pont" in their "űzenö". Andi and Niki also discovered the world of dance/gymnastics -- with possibilities of future competitions. WOW! Who knew such an exciting world existed?

Progress can be exciting. Andi and Niki were very content being Ovodas (kindergartners). Life was good, safe and comfortable. As the first day of school approached Niki showed signs of apprehension. What if she could not hack it? Was she really ready? But she had no choice. If progress was to be made she had to move forward into the unknown and she and Andi both discovered there was more to life than they had ever dreamed possible. And that's just first grade.

Of course the day is not too far off when the the thrill of schoolwork will lose its sparkle and dance/gymnastics class will feel so burdensome and tiring. But if progress is to be made that they might reach that next plateau of progress when again a new world opens up for them -- they have to persevere with what lies before them now.

Is it so different with our spiritual progress? Remember those moments in the journey of the Christian life where God just illuminated His truths to you in a new and exciting way. WOW! We did not know the Christian life could be so rich and deep and fulfilling! We felt as if we had arrived at some real spiritual maturity. "Look at me I am a spiritual "iskolas" now -- no longer a mere "ovodas" like so many others around me." What we did not realize is that as "big and mature" as we felt, we had only entered the first grade.

And in time, the work required to continue progressing in this level has become not-so-exciting anymore. But Paul exhorts Timothy to "persevere" that his progress may be a testimony leading to the salvation of others around him.

Just as Andi and Niki who are now learning that 2+2=4 cannot begin to comprehend astrophysics, I cannot help but wonder what depth of spiritual reality may exist out there for those who are willing to persevere and go deeper with Christ. Consider the possibilities. Even the most spiritual among us has likely scarcely scratched the surface of what the Christian life could be.

Tapasztalatok: A Hatalmasok Napraforgok

2008-09-11T10:35:00.011+02:00

Ez aratás idő -- napraforgoknak! És Mikepércsen napraforgok nem kicsi dolog.

Tavasszal ültettunk sok napraforgok a kértben. Jo árnyéket csinal a napraforgok amikor a nyar nagyon meleg.

Ez egy szép virag, de ez nem egy kifinomult virag. Ez egy boldog virag. Mikepércsen, nem csak boldog, de túláradóan vidám! Ez Igaz napraforgok nagy virag mindenhol, de Mikepércsen ezek a viragok ÓRIÁS vannak!

Nem hiszed el? Ide figyelj ezek a fotok!

Ever Been Ship'Reck'd?

2008-09-08T09:18:00.004+02:00

"This command I entrust to you, Timothy, my son, in accordance with the prophecies previously made concerning you, that by them you fight the good fight, keeping faith and a good conscience, which some have rejected and suffered shipwreck in regard to their faith." --1Tim.1:18-19

This summer I watched two people suffer shipwreck of the soul. One suffered it some time past and quite frankly does not see the point of having God in his life anymore. The other, even as I write, is crushed beneath the blows of rancorous waves spintering the wooden bow of what was once faith to shreds and washing it away into an endless ocean of despair.

How does it happen? Not in a moment, or in a day, but over time somehow that which was once full of faith and hope did not endure.

Some would casually dismiss their plight, writing them off by saying, "They were never really saved." But that is a convenient catch-all explanation that callously ignores the very real suffering and abuse these people have run up against, in some cases in the name of Christ.

Moreover, it arrogantly disregards even the possibility that I, myself, could one suffer similar shipwreck.

Have you ever come close to suffering shipwreck with regard to your faith? If so, how did you end up there? More poignantly, how did you get out?

It is a topic worth exploring in our Christian walk -- but is all too often ignored.

I hope some of you readers will venture to share. I look forward to seeing your responses.

Tapasztalatok: A Csókalom Csirke

2008-09-03T10:49:00.006+02:00

Mikepércs nagyon kellemes hely -- barátságos emberek, szép kértek. A csirkek is nagyon udvarias!

Amerikaban a kakas mond hogy "Cockadoodledoo!" Ez normalis, de nem nagyon szép. És amikor sok csirke van, a hang bosszantó.

Magyarorszagon a tipikus kakas mond hogy "Kukariku!" Ez nem egy gyönyörű hang. De a Mikepércsi kakas nem mint a tipikus kakas. A Mikepércsi kakas jobb van.

A Mikepércsi kakas kifinomult es udvarias! Amikor az egyszerű kakas mond hogy "Cockadoodledoo" vagy "Kukariku", A Mikepércsi kakas mond hogy "Csókalom! Csókalom!"

Nehezen hihető, tudom. De Igaz!

Nem hiszel el? Jönn a Mikepércsre es figyel!

-----
*Sajnalom sok magyar nyelvtany hiba!
If Luca, Arpi and Andi, and all my other Hungarian friends can post in English, then I can post in Hungarian, right? (but perhaps "can" and "being capable of" are two distinctly different things in this context. Hope my Hungarian was not too painful to read!)

Lost Longing for the Presence of God

2008-08-25T09:58:00.008+02:00

These days, an announcement that a pastor will be speaking on "the presence of God" in this week's church service is likely to elicit yawns and glazed stares. This might be a good week to take that family weekend in the mountains, the thoughts of congregants race. It's a trite subject, over-used. Countless books have been written about it and it is so often mentioned over the course of "growing up Christian," that I think, perhaps, we have allowed its meaning to slip through the grasp of our understanding like sand through our fingers. In short, we have lost the awe.

Yeah, yeah, God is present everywhere. Yadda Yadda. So what? What more can possibly be said.

That's largely how I felt until I began to re-examine the tabernacle as I studied Hebrews.

What must it have been like to be a priest in ancient Israel? To day after day perform the monotonous duties of the tabernacle. Bloody sacrifice. That would get old fast. Refreshing of the show bread, renewing the oil in the candles... etc.

But I suspect that, from time to time, there arose a priest who truly loved God with all his heart and wanted nothing more to be able to enter the Holy of Holies -- to come into God's presence. Of course that was a the role of only one -- the high priest, so chances were, he would never get to do it.

What must it have been like to meander through the outer courts handling sacrifice, day after day. After which he would wash up and gaze at the sanctuary building (holy place/ holy of holies) and wonder of God's presence in that tiny room.

Perhaps when he had to go into the holy place to change the showbread or add oil to the candles, he stopped and took a minute to look at that thick rug-like curtain that separated the holy place from the Holy of Holies -- that separated him from some manifestation of the very presence of God Himself.

Maybe as he walked beside it, performing his duties he allowed his robes to brush against that curtain, and an inexplicable thrill as well as stifling fear erupted from his innermost place at the possibility that the presence of God could have been brushing against the curtain on the opposite side at the same time.

Perhaps before he left, he looked again deeply at he curtain that separated him from his God, and fantasized what it would be like just to run up and pull back the curtain and bask in the presence of God. Of course, that would mean certain death. But there would be that moment, that singular nano-second where he would behold some manifestation of the presence of his God -- and wouldn't death be a small price to pay for such a moment?

He would then scold himself for having such irreverent ideas. It was borderline apostasy. And then ashamed of his longings, he would return to his duties in the outer courts.

In all the centuries that passed during the use of tabernacle, and later during those generations that used the temple in Jerusalem, is it so far fetched to think, a priest with such a longing for God's presence could have lived?

Perhaps such a priest served in the lower ranks even during the days Christ walked this earth. Perhaps he stood before that curtain on that fateful day Christ said, "It is finished." He likely had no clue of the significance of all that was happening outside as the sky turned black as night, he was too wrapped up in his own longing to go past the outer courts, even past the holy place. Perhaps he stood before the curtain that only the high priest could pass by and ached to be there -- in the very Holy of Holies. And as he stood and reflected on longings that had to stay sealed in the most hidden parts of his soul, the earth began to shake, and as Christ slipped into death on the cross, the impenetrable curtain tore from top to bottom.

That priest surely could not comprehend how completely the longing of his heart was now truly being fulfilled.

I have become increasingly convicted in the past months that I do not long to be in the Holy of Holies. I do not recognize it for the spectacular opportunity that it is. I am content just to pass in and out of the outer courts. After all, that's closer than most folks ever try to get to God.

I rarely push in to even the Holy Place. And so for the past few months I have been praying for the longing of that priest -- an unquenchable thirst for the presence of God.

And I have been awakened as to how Christ has taken it all one step further. Ephesians 2:22 tells us: "And in [Christ] you are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by His spirit."

No longer do we have to stare at dark curtains longing for that which has been withheld from us. God wants to build us, His people, into His new Holy of Holies, so that we may truly dwell -- not in the outer courts -- but in the very presence of the Lord forever!

What an opportunity! Now the question is, what are we going to do with it?

Of Horses, Heaven, and a Holiday Klub in Heviz, Hungary

2008-08-17T15:47:00.005+02:00

It has been a wild and crazy summer and I have much to write, but before I get started I thought I'd post the photos of our recent vacation. First we spent a couple of days with Dr. Gabor Gyuri and his wife Gabrielle and two of their five kids at their horse ranch near Lajosmizse, Hungary. No electricity, no running water. Our family slept in the henhouse and ate with the Gyuris by the open fire. It was just horses, good food, good friends, and great fun! The Gyuri family has taken their passion for horses and turned it into a ministry for Christ -- doing horse camps for kids in the summer. They are a new GoodSports partner here in Hungary.

After that we were off to Holiday Klub Heviz near Lake Balaton in Hungary. Thanks to my parents generosity, we had a wonderful getaway of sun and fun. Here are our pics.

When An Orphan Discovers Family

2008-07-21T20:10:00.007+02:00

As I write this, we are wrapping up five weeks of unending camps and mission outreaches which stretched from an orphanage in Miskolc, Hungary up to a baseball camp in Bojnice, Slovakia then into the simplicity of Hungarian village life and finally into a youth English camp before wrapping up back in the orphanage at Miskolc.

Over the course of these weeks we've struggled to break through the thick walls erected by wounded souls, we've fought stereotypes and an outbreak of scabies along with a threat of lyme's disease, we've learned more about our brothers and sisters in Christ who come from different denominational backgrounds, and we have seen some precious kids come to Christ in very genuine ways.

I used to think that was what it was all about, but now I understand that this is just the beginning. Becoming a part of a family can happen in just a moment, but that moment is but the cusp of relationships that develop and deepen over the course of a lifetime -- or perhaps eternity.

On last Friday, a baptism occured on the final day of English Camp. When Evi, one girl from the Miskolc orphanage learned of it, she ran to her best friend asked her if she wanted to be baptized. Evi had been baptized the year before.

"I do not even know what it is about," Anita explained.

Evi shared with her friend how it was the outward expression of what Christ has done in one's heart.

Anita's eyes lit up as she asked excitedly, "Can I do it in jeans?"

Anita could not be held back that day and as she stood before the crowd of campers and counselors, she told her story:

"My name is Anita. Two years ago both my parents died, one six months after the other. I lived with various relatives after that, but as soon as I got settled in one place, I was sent somewhere else. I had no home. Eventually I was sent to the orphanage in Miskolc. And when I started going to the Wednesday bible study and the different conferences and programs that you made for us, I suddenly felt like I had a family again. God has given me a family in you."

That day Anita proclaimed Christ and was born into a new family -- the family of God. It is a new beginning for her, but just the first day among many where she will grow and change succeed and sometimes fail.

May we always be faithful to love her and those like her through it all. This is our call -- to love and guide them in love through their good and bad days. For not only do we share the gospel of Jesus Christ, we share our very lives as well, because they have become so dear to us. 1Thess2:8.

Please pray for Anita and Evi and all the kids of the Lakasotthon orphanage. God is doing a work among them even now.

Comfort, Character, and Scabies

2008-07-02T20:16:00.002+02:00

“God is more interested in our Character than our Comfort,” Tom Johnson, director of GoodSports Slovakia, said on that fateful Wednesday morning during the Slovak baseball camp(yesterday). Wednesdays are infamously difficult days in the course of our camps. That day is late enough in the week for genuine fatigue to set in. Yet it is still early enough that the end is nowhere in sight. This week was no exception.

It all started when one of the boys from the Hungarian orphanage was taken to the hospital for an unexplained rash.

Diagnosis: Scabies.

Minor hysteria ensued. Someone alerted the Slovak health department. Officials came. Tensions that already exist between Hungarians and Slovaks stretched to their limit. Stereotypes and stigmas of “orphans” darkened even further as whispers of “epidemic” swirled through the halls. All those sharing a cabin with the infected boy underwent a process of fumigation – or debugging. Plastic bags filled with clothing and sheets received the pharmaceutical insecticide and those most exposed to the critters lathered up in an ointment lethal to the mischievous mite.

All Hungarians in the camp fell under something of a quarantine and during the eight hour treatment phase had to be isolated from the rest of the camp’s activities. The day screamed with stress and tempers flared, including my own, I must admit. At times, it was downright ugly. And at that moment we stood at a crossroads. Would we let this destroy us, or would be let God do His work through us even in this?

Indeed, God was not concerned about our comfort. So what is happening to our character in all this?

If faith is indeed the essence of things hoped for the confidence in things not seen, then I have every right be excited – to expect a real move of God in the midst of this mild fiasco. God is forcing our lives to rub up against one another in very uncomfortable ways. And in the midst of all of this, He is here -- ready to touch these tragically ravaged lives in wonderfully healing ways.

Please pray for this camp. I have no doubt God is working, but I have no idea exactly how at this moment. Pray that all will be overcome in the name of Christ’s love.

A Reason to Mourn

2008-06-23T11:02:00.003+02:00

Last month a mother died. And as the austere funeral dirge rang out, her little boy cried. The boy cried tears that burned like acid the soul of a child brutally separated from the parent who loved him best. The mother whose body once nurtured and caressed now is reduced to mere ashes in a box. I hear his cries and my blood runs cold. A shiver runs up my spine and I feel my very soul shrivel in sympathy to his ache.

“The wages of sin is death,” Paul wrote to the Romans. Sin is death. Death is the ultimate experience of separation. And what is sin but utter separation from God?

2000 years ago, a Father died in the form of a Son. Yesterday, I invited the enticing emptiness of sin to separate me from that parent who loves me best. But I did not cry.

I fear death. But strangely I do not fear sin in the same way. When I consider the possibility of losing a child or my husband to death, it makes my blood run cold and I tremble. When I consider sin and its cruel separating force cutting me off from God, I shrug my shoulders in something frighteningly akin to indifference. If I loved God half as much as that child loved his mother, the thought of Sin’s separating impact would send me into throes of grief.

Is not God my heavenly father? Does not my sin separate me from Him? Oh God, let me ache and mourn when I sin. Give me pain, grievous pain of bereavement when I allow sin to separate me from you and sever our relationship. Let me recognize it as the death that it is – that you might accomplish true resurrection in me. Amen.

"But God, She's Dead."

2008-06-05T12:21:00.005+02:00

Have you ever known a person who truly knew God in the most intimate of ways -- whose life enriched yours simply by being near. Yesterday, I learned that one such person had passed away.

I pushed the news into the back of my consciousness and moved on to the people and issues of my day, but this morning when I took time to enter the presence of God, it all came back to me and I said, "God, Monyi is dead."

It is incomprehensible that such a relatively young and lively woman could really be gone. Monyi truly loved the presence of God, if anyone ever did. She lived in it. I suspect there is not a person alive in this part of the world who has not been impacted if not actively by her life, then certainly by her prayers. She would rise at 4am to get a good two hours with the Lord, before her day began.

Praying was like breathing for her, inextricably linked to her very existence. If a need arose, be it for family or ministry, her gut reaction was to pray, even if the solution seemed obvious. She knew how to hear God too -- even in the hard things.

To tell you the truth, I only met her a few times, but she had that kind of spirit that quite simply glowed in a way one cannot see with human eyes and yet, is unmistakably there. We did not speak the same language, but that did not matter. Christ so permeated all that she was that her very presence exuded Him.

So many faithful, constant, continuous prayers exhaled from one gentle spirit. I have no doubt her words in Christ's name uttered so humbly to the Father caused battalions of demons to tremble and flee. Having Monyi pray for you was like calling in a spiritual brigade of reinforcements.

I can't help but wonder how Hungary will go on without her prayers supporting us. And yet, why do I think her prayers somehow ceased with her death. Why would she who communed so naturally with God over the affairs and spiritual state of her people in this life, where one can see only dimly, suddenly stop when she sees her God face to face. (1Cor. 13:12)

This morning when my eyes welled with tears and I said to God, "Monyi is dead." God spoke back. "Trudy, Monyi is not dead," He said. "She is alive like she had never been alive before. You should see her."

I wish I could see Monyi in God's presence now. She lived to be in His presence in the weak way we frail creatures can stumble into his presence in this life (thanks to Christ's blood). But now, in her death that overwhelming passion for His presence has been made complete as she will truly dwell in the house of Lord forever. Amen.