"Blessed is the one who considers the poor! In the day of trouble the Lord delivers him; the Lord protects him and keeps him alive; he is called blessed in the land; you do not give him up to the will of his enemies." Psalm 41:1-2
I've been thinking alot about the poor lately. I keep running into people as I go about my days the past while (don't worry, I don't mean literally), and I've seen for probably the first time the reality of the masses of people who have at the very least alot less than I am used to living with.
Last week I was on my way to teach sewing class, 45 minutes from home. As I was driving through the town of Honeybrook, a older lady crossed the street, right in front of my vehicle. At first I didn't notice her, in my hurry to get where I was going. But something made me look twice ...
That lady was at least older than my Mom. She was wearing obviously well-worn clothing. She was limping. No jacket, in spite of the cold weather. Carrying a large bag filled with what was evidently all the belongings she owned. Her hair hung limply on her shoulders. Her expression was blank. She stumbled across the street and back behind a building. Nowhere to go; no one who cared.
I went on my way, filled my tank with gas, got where I was going, and promptly forgot about the whole thing. Life is easy. I have what I need, and if I don't have it, I can go buy it. I have a job. I have a family. A home. Food with plenty to spare. Everything! And it's inevitable that I'm going to forget that there's anybody out there who has next to nothing of the joys I take for granted every day.
I was in the city, doing what I do every week. Only, again, I ran into someone who was evidently destitute; what I carried in my purse would be riches to this dear lady. I see her weekly, making the same rounds: she walks across the street at a certain place, carries two large bags, and wears less-than-warm clothing even though the wind is blowing and it's icy cold. I saw her last week, sleeping under the overhanging roof at the gas station. It was raining, and I was shivering after standing outside for only a few minutes. This lady is elderly ...
I've been finding my heart burdened for people like the people I've described above. I've been asking myself alot of questions ... looking at Christ's example, how He humbled Himself. Actually identified Himself with people that we'd, frankly, be disgusted by. People who were waaaaay below His standard - in more ways than one.
Can I do that? I mean for real - can I identify with some of the people that I run into? The homeless person on the corner? That old lady who perpetually mutters to herself, has repetitive habits, and walks endlessly - what about her? Can I identify with her to such a extent that I would stoop to wash her feet like Jesus did?
It's questions like that, that keep running through my mind. I think God is trying to tell me something. I want to have deep love and compassion for the poor around me - but I don't just want a emotional "I feel so sorry for them!" kind of a response. I want something that's going to make me stop and reach out a hand of love to that dirty, homeless individual. Something that goes beyond my natural reaction of withdrawing.
I think of a article that I read recently, regarding alot of the same things. He said a rather radical statement that I won't repeat here ... but he was trying to get the idea across about Jesus' incredible identification with us. I mean, to become what we are - from the high and exalted place of God's right hand? That's incredible. That's divine. And I think God is calling me to that same identification, that same humility, that same love that's not afraid to touch a world madly on it's way to eternal separation from Him.
Anyway, that's some of what I've been thinking of the past while. Maybe it makes some sense to you all too. I've been challenged, and I'm looking to the Lord to show me ways that I can follow His example, as I interact with people in my everyday life.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Planting Seeds in Little Lives
...Thought I'd take you along with me to visit the childrens' ministry that I'm a part of, Seeders of Lebanon. We're a ministry located in the city of Lebanon, PA. and we meet every Tuesday night. We have about 50 children, on average, who attend 'Tuesday church' regularly. A typical night - if such a thing exists when you're working with children! - goes as follows.
Each night starts with a devotional time and prayer. We set up our class-rooms, then hit the road for pick-up. Depending on the night, or the children, or the weather, or unexplained naughtiness, the ride can be mild or wild. Usually it's wild. :) Having up to 15 children in a 15 passenger van can be fun!
Once we're back to our rented building, the children disperse to their classrooms, divided by age. My class ranges on average from age 6-10. Peek into our classroom...
We four teachers - two girls and two guys - take turns teaching each week. Generally we have anywhere from 5-12 children, depending on the night, all crowded into our little classroom. Natasha, with her wiry hair, irresistible smile and endless energy, comes tumbling into the room. "Who's teaching tonight did you bring candy can I have a piece of gum when are we going to sing?" She's always bubbling over with things to say and a song to pick!
Carey and Dorothy are evidently sisters. Both have blond-brown hair and sweet smiles. Carey is our youngest little girl - and she loves to be carried around, in spite of her age. She'll give you one smile with her missing front teeth, and her inability to say her R's correctly, and you'll not be able to resist her! Her older sister, Dorothy, is very idependent; I find myself trusting her as I would a older girl, having very grown-up conversations. She's a gem when other, younger girls are acting up during class time - she knows what behaviour we expect, and encourages the other girls to comply.
There's a explosion of noise and in comes another crowd of girls. Pushing and shoving and chattering, they're enjoying themselves already. Cartwheels, jumping jacks, wrestling - it's going to be a lively night. It's class time, so we organize the girls and have them sit on the floor in a big circle, strategically making sure that we staff are sitting in between the naughtiest ones. ;)
"Hush, everybody! It's class time! Remember the rule - no talking during class." We sing together for awhile ... the children often will get really excited, singing loudly, clapping, moving around. Without fail, someone will get carried away and start shouting, disturbing the class on the other side of our curtain 'wall'. That's life - it's not at all unusual to hear other classes of children shouting or running around. We aim to keep order, but at times it's a real challenge with these city children!
One of us will teach the children a simple Bible lesson for 5-10 minutes. We love object lessons, as the children can understand and grasp those much easier than when we just read a Bible story. The last time that I taught class, I used the topic of bad/good thoughts, and what to do about the bad ones.
I brought a really cute doll - my younger sister's special baby doll - and had my fellow teacher say a bad thought: "Jess, you should keep that doll to yourself and not share her. Don't share! Don't share!" I asked the children what I should do with that thought - should I listen to it? They were undecided; refusing to share is the norm. ;) So I pretended to push that bad thought - my helper - right out the door! They cheered me on, laughing and talking all at once.
I think you get the idea - lesson time is lively, loud, and very active. We have to work to get their attention, and to keep it. Sometimes they have the greatest questions, such as, "if God made a flood, and killed all the people because they were wicked ... what about us? We're wicked, too." Or, "How are we made in God's image?"
Some nights, as we leave the lights of the city behind and head for our homes, we feel overwhelmed. These children have deep, deep needs. Most have at least one parent who is absent; some are living with relatives who really don't love them, due to both parents being in jail. Others don't remember dad at all; worst yet, some don't know who their dad or mom is.
Three of our girls lost their dad in a shoot-out. One has been molested ... twice. Each child has a unique story, unique problems and hurts. We never know what we might face each night, and we know that we need God's grace and wisdom to deal with each child.
It's the greatest joy to pour our lives into these children in this little city. I love it. Tuesday never comes fast enough! Oh that they would get a taste of who Jesus is, through our lives and through our love. We realize that we're not going to be able to influence their lives for very long; they're going to grow up, and move on in life - and what we pour into their lives now will, Lord willing, make a difference for eternity.
So, leaving the noise and pain and needs of my city behind us ... I hope that you, my readers, enjoyed your visit. And maybe, if God lays us on your heart, you'll pray for us.
Each night starts with a devotional time and prayer. We set up our class-rooms, then hit the road for pick-up. Depending on the night, or the children, or the weather, or unexplained naughtiness, the ride can be mild or wild. Usually it's wild. :) Having up to 15 children in a 15 passenger van can be fun!
Once we're back to our rented building, the children disperse to their classrooms, divided by age. My class ranges on average from age 6-10. Peek into our classroom...
We four teachers - two girls and two guys - take turns teaching each week. Generally we have anywhere from 5-12 children, depending on the night, all crowded into our little classroom. Natasha, with her wiry hair, irresistible smile and endless energy, comes tumbling into the room. "Who's teaching tonight did you bring candy can I have a piece of gum when are we going to sing?" She's always bubbling over with things to say and a song to pick!
Carey and Dorothy are evidently sisters. Both have blond-brown hair and sweet smiles. Carey is our youngest little girl - and she loves to be carried around, in spite of her age. She'll give you one smile with her missing front teeth, and her inability to say her R's correctly, and you'll not be able to resist her! Her older sister, Dorothy, is very idependent; I find myself trusting her as I would a older girl, having very grown-up conversations. She's a gem when other, younger girls are acting up during class time - she knows what behaviour we expect, and encourages the other girls to comply.
There's a explosion of noise and in comes another crowd of girls. Pushing and shoving and chattering, they're enjoying themselves already. Cartwheels, jumping jacks, wrestling - it's going to be a lively night. It's class time, so we organize the girls and have them sit on the floor in a big circle, strategically making sure that we staff are sitting in between the naughtiest ones. ;)
"Hush, everybody! It's class time! Remember the rule - no talking during class." We sing together for awhile ... the children often will get really excited, singing loudly, clapping, moving around. Without fail, someone will get carried away and start shouting, disturbing the class on the other side of our curtain 'wall'. That's life - it's not at all unusual to hear other classes of children shouting or running around. We aim to keep order, but at times it's a real challenge with these city children!
One of us will teach the children a simple Bible lesson for 5-10 minutes. We love object lessons, as the children can understand and grasp those much easier than when we just read a Bible story. The last time that I taught class, I used the topic of bad/good thoughts, and what to do about the bad ones.
I brought a really cute doll - my younger sister's special baby doll - and had my fellow teacher say a bad thought: "Jess, you should keep that doll to yourself and not share her. Don't share! Don't share!" I asked the children what I should do with that thought - should I listen to it? They were undecided; refusing to share is the norm. ;) So I pretended to push that bad thought - my helper - right out the door! They cheered me on, laughing and talking all at once.
I think you get the idea - lesson time is lively, loud, and very active. We have to work to get their attention, and to keep it. Sometimes they have the greatest questions, such as, "if God made a flood, and killed all the people because they were wicked ... what about us? We're wicked, too." Or, "How are we made in God's image?"
Some nights, as we leave the lights of the city behind and head for our homes, we feel overwhelmed. These children have deep, deep needs. Most have at least one parent who is absent; some are living with relatives who really don't love them, due to both parents being in jail. Others don't remember dad at all; worst yet, some don't know who their dad or mom is.
Three of our girls lost their dad in a shoot-out. One has been molested ... twice. Each child has a unique story, unique problems and hurts. We never know what we might face each night, and we know that we need God's grace and wisdom to deal with each child.
It's the greatest joy to pour our lives into these children in this little city. I love it. Tuesday never comes fast enough! Oh that they would get a taste of who Jesus is, through our lives and through our love. We realize that we're not going to be able to influence their lives for very long; they're going to grow up, and move on in life - and what we pour into their lives now will, Lord willing, make a difference for eternity.
So, leaving the noise and pain and needs of my city behind us ... I hope that you, my readers, enjoyed your visit. And maybe, if God lays us on your heart, you'll pray for us.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
"If you love Me, be my hands."
"I asked the Lord to help my neighbor,
And to carry the gospel to distant lands,
And to comfort the sick, but He said to me,
If you love me, be my hands.
I asked the Lord to go to the dying,
And the orphan in the street,
And visit the prisoner, but He said to me,
If you love me, be my feet.
I asked the Lord to look to the poor,
And watch over each babe that cries,
And see each man's need, but He said to me,
If you love me, be my eyes.
I said to the Lord, I want to serve You,
But I don't know where to start.
To love is the answer, He said to me.
If you love me, be my heart."
~G. Shirie Westfall
(Taken from "Extreme Devotion", pg. 252)
I've been seeking God alot the past while. He hasn't let me seek in vain; I'm finding my life turned upside-down in more than one area. I don't like it; it's not comfortable, or nice, and at times it doesn't feel very hopeful, either. God has a way of pulling me away from my comfort zone, and leaving me with nothing to grasp (I'm the kind of person who has to have something to cling to, always) - besides for Himself.
But that's the way I've been living. And when I go to God and tell Him just what I'm feeling, without fail, He brings something - or someone - or a song - or a poem - or something like that, into my life. And it's like looking up to Mt. Everest and thirsting to climb that height, knowing that I've got to climb it - and yet knowing that puny little me doesn't have the strength to do it. Challenged to the core, but without the strength in myself to rise to the challenge.
It's just as if I could hear Christ's voice, every time. It's not MY ability, or lack of ability, that matters. It's all dependent on His strength. And that's exactly why I CAN reach that height! What sweet freedom!
I like that verse in Job: "For He will complete what He appoints for me, and many such things are in His mind."
So ... one of the biggest things God is challenging my my heart with, is the mountain of love. Loving people. People in my circle; people I interact with on a daily basis. People with problems. People who frustrate me or clash with my personality; people that maybe are just plain wrong. People who I feel like are missing the point of life. It seems that everywhere I turn, there they are - those people with those problems. :) And they're bothering me. And I don't feel like loving them. They're wrong, after all!
Ouch. Is it just me, or did I see myself in that person? In that annoying personality quirk - isn't that just what I am, inside? How humbling to see your own fault, mirrored in the person that you really struggle to love!
I found the poem that I copied at the beginning of this post, and it struck home with alot of what God has been challenging my heart with. Is the reason His hands and feet are failing to reach the world a result of our failing to love? Does our failure to love each other possibly reach out to the world - and the judgment we judge each other with, begins to overflow to people desperately in need of what we hold? I think it does. I know it does.
So, I read that little poem, and asked God to give me love. Unreasonable love. For my fellow soldiers in Christ, and for the world around me. I want to be His hands and His feet on this earth. Jesus wasn't afraid or threatened by other people. He didn't fear the world. He loved ... and whoever abides in love abides in God.
And just a side-note: the word love is mentioned approx. 180 times in the New Testament alone.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Oh, Lord Jesus, how long?!?
It's been over a month since I last stopped by here. Life just keeps flying by ... and with it come lots of opportunities, lots of challenges, lots of trials and joys, too. Lots of chances to lift up my head and know that God is sovereign over all of the tangles and turns of life!
I was reading a article late last night, and was so impressed by the following little excerpt. I think you'll be blessed, too. If there's anything I want even more than I want life itself, it's this one: that we would fulfill the longing of Jesus Himself. "As in heaven, so on earth." So it's with that longing - a longing that almost literally hurts - that I share the following.
"I long for the day when we... image-bearers of God, will never again hurt one another. No more marginalizing or minimizing one another; no more demeaning or dismissing one another; no more vilifying or idolizing one another; no more hating or hurting one another; no more using or abusing one another in any way.
No more gossip, just gospel. No more slandering anybody, just serving everybody. No more labeling, just loving. No more resentment, just enjoyment. No more meanness, just kindness. No more retaliation, just reconciliation. … FOREVER
Hasten the Day when we will finally and fully love one another as you love us, Jesus. Until that day, keep us groaning and growing in grace. Don’t let us get used to hurting each other. Grant us a beautiful sadness and quick repentances when we love poorly. May the world recognize us as your disciples by the way we love one another." {End of quotation}
I was reading a article late last night, and was so impressed by the following little excerpt. I think you'll be blessed, too. If there's anything I want even more than I want life itself, it's this one: that we would fulfill the longing of Jesus Himself. "As in heaven, so on earth." So it's with that longing - a longing that almost literally hurts - that I share the following.
"I long for the day when we... image-bearers of God, will never again hurt one another. No more marginalizing or minimizing one another; no more demeaning or dismissing one another; no more vilifying or idolizing one another; no more hating or hurting one another; no more using or abusing one another in any way.
No more gossip, just gospel. No more slandering anybody, just serving everybody. No more labeling, just loving. No more resentment, just enjoyment. No more meanness, just kindness. No more retaliation, just reconciliation. … FOREVER
Hasten the Day when we will finally and fully love one another as you love us, Jesus. Until that day, keep us groaning and growing in grace. Don’t let us get used to hurting each other. Grant us a beautiful sadness and quick repentances when we love poorly. May the world recognize us as your disciples by the way we love one another." {End of quotation}
Monday, November 7, 2011
Knowing you, Jesus - there is no greater thing!
This past week has been a really challenging one for me. I know that God is working in my heart ... and yet at the same time there is this deadening pull to let myself get all wrapped up in (and pulled down by) things: Circumstances. Problems. Pain. Discouragement. The Deadline. My overly-full schedule.
So as I go through my days, I find that pull to be very real. Right when I'm up to my neck in serving, and when my heart is just thrilling in the opportunities He's opened up in my life, bam, it hits me. That little, sneaky suggestion: "Hey, did you remember that problem? I wonder how this situation is going to work out. Huh. I just know he or she is going to cause a problem... what am I going to do? Oh no. I forgot that she wants that order filled by next week. And the wedding next month!" and on and on it goes.
And all the strength I once had to serve the Lord drains away, leaving me just about as limp as that old celery in the refrigerator. I'm not kidding. It's like there's a leak in my life!
The Lord has been showing me in more ways than one, that my life is very, very finite. I'm limited in my ability. I only have so much memory. So much passion. So much strength. It's HIS strength that is limitless. He's the one that gives the ability. He's the only way that my life can, in any way, have streams of living water flowing out of it.
And my focus so often turns away from Him, to the of-this-world problems. And my it goes in a downward spiral from there. I can't afford to waste any of my strength on worrying about the circumstances I'm in. I can't afford to waste time worrying about my reputation. Wondering about that Big Bad Problem that is just going to show up tomorrow.
The only way I can go through life is by setting all of my hope, all of my expectation, all of my sight on Him. Joying in Him. Loving Him. I am finding that it's so true: all of my streams come from Him. And if I let that fellowship between me and my Father get plugged up somewhere along the way, the streams flowing from my life trickle to a slow stream .. and eventually, they die.
So my purpose in sharing that is to encourage myself - and you - to keep our hearts set on Jesus. It doesn't matter as much if we haven't read a book for six months, or if our desks are piled high with unanswered letters, account statements, and unfinished study projects. That stuff isn't going to matter in eternity. But what does matter is how buried we are in Him. We know the difference if we aren't. And so does the world around us. I want a life that sings about Him, unconsciously and effortlessly, because I know Him.
So as I go through my days, I find that pull to be very real. Right when I'm up to my neck in serving, and when my heart is just thrilling in the opportunities He's opened up in my life, bam, it hits me. That little, sneaky suggestion: "Hey, did you remember that problem? I wonder how this situation is going to work out. Huh. I just know he or she is going to cause a problem... what am I going to do? Oh no. I forgot that she wants that order filled by next week. And the wedding next month!" and on and on it goes.
And all the strength I once had to serve the Lord drains away, leaving me just about as limp as that old celery in the refrigerator. I'm not kidding. It's like there's a leak in my life!
The Lord has been showing me in more ways than one, that my life is very, very finite. I'm limited in my ability. I only have so much memory. So much passion. So much strength. It's HIS strength that is limitless. He's the one that gives the ability. He's the only way that my life can, in any way, have streams of living water flowing out of it.
And my focus so often turns away from Him, to the of-this-world problems. And my it goes in a downward spiral from there. I can't afford to waste any of my strength on worrying about the circumstances I'm in. I can't afford to waste time worrying about my reputation. Wondering about that Big Bad Problem that is just going to show up tomorrow.
The only way I can go through life is by setting all of my hope, all of my expectation, all of my sight on Him. Joying in Him. Loving Him. I am finding that it's so true: all of my streams come from Him. And if I let that fellowship between me and my Father get plugged up somewhere along the way, the streams flowing from my life trickle to a slow stream .. and eventually, they die.
So my purpose in sharing that is to encourage myself - and you - to keep our hearts set on Jesus. It doesn't matter as much if we haven't read a book for six months, or if our desks are piled high with unanswered letters, account statements, and unfinished study projects. That stuff isn't going to matter in eternity. But what does matter is how buried we are in Him. We know the difference if we aren't. And so does the world around us. I want a life that sings about Him, unconsciously and effortlessly, because I know Him.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
The Unreasonableness of Love
I was impressed lately by a little book, written by Richard Wurmbrand, during his time in prison in solitary confinement. He was shut up with God, and the rats, and the stark realities of prison life. And the sweetness of his communion with God in that place shines out of his writings. I thought I'd share a portion that really blessed me today, about love.
"Reason will tell you about the foolishness of the cross. Jesus was young, handsome, vigorous. He could have made a good living as a carpenter, or as a doctor of the law. He could have married and enjoyed life. Why die to save people who do not want to be saved? Why start something which will not be accepted, or even heard of, by the overwhelming majority of mankind, and which will be practised only by a few isolated saints?
Who would conceive such an unreasonable project? Only Paul dared to answer this question. A chill runs down your spine when you hear the answer. The Bible is the only religious book to contain such an expression, which must surely be considered a blasphemy by all the religions of the world, including Christianity - "the foolishness of God!"
Love must submit to being condemned by reason. I told my missionary friend: "Just follow the promptings of love. Don't try to justify your actions by arguments."
We in prison use the same unreasonableness. When we hear the cries of someone being beaten, all the others begin to bang on their doors, "Help! Help! Stop beating!" There is nobody to hear us, except those who are beating and who now, instead of beating only one, beat us all up, one after the other.
What is the sense of a collective protest here? What is the sense of expressing your solidarity with those who are beaten? It is non-sense, which means that it is pure love. Love does not think about what it will achieve, what it will gain. Love does not think at all. Love does not care about reason. Why should it?"
I was challenged by those words. I long to love like that. I long to see love like that, lived out in the church and among God's people. Not just rational, count-the-cost-first love, but unreasonable, irrational love. Love like Jesus loves us with.
"Reason will tell you about the foolishness of the cross. Jesus was young, handsome, vigorous. He could have made a good living as a carpenter, or as a doctor of the law. He could have married and enjoyed life. Why die to save people who do not want to be saved? Why start something which will not be accepted, or even heard of, by the overwhelming majority of mankind, and which will be practised only by a few isolated saints?
Who would conceive such an unreasonable project? Only Paul dared to answer this question. A chill runs down your spine when you hear the answer. The Bible is the only religious book to contain such an expression, which must surely be considered a blasphemy by all the religions of the world, including Christianity - "the foolishness of God!"
Love must submit to being condemned by reason. I told my missionary friend: "Just follow the promptings of love. Don't try to justify your actions by arguments."
We in prison use the same unreasonableness. When we hear the cries of someone being beaten, all the others begin to bang on their doors, "Help! Help! Stop beating!" There is nobody to hear us, except those who are beating and who now, instead of beating only one, beat us all up, one after the other.
What is the sense of a collective protest here? What is the sense of expressing your solidarity with those who are beaten? It is non-sense, which means that it is pure love. Love does not think about what it will achieve, what it will gain. Love does not think at all. Love does not care about reason. Why should it?"
I was challenged by those words. I long to love like that. I long to see love like that, lived out in the church and among God's people. Not just rational, count-the-cost-first love, but unreasonable, irrational love. Love like Jesus loves us with.
 |
| Richard Wurmbrand |
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
أهلاً وسهلاً Greetings from the Land of Language! :)
Just checking in from the land of language learning ... :) Alot of my time this week has been spent on that - language learning. Verbs and tense, learning the correct greeting for each situation, learning to read a language that is not based on English characters, and all of the other wonderful challenges.
It's been difficult, frustrating, and really exciting, all at once. Learning a language is not easy, but I am enjoying it immensely! It has given me a new perspective on what it's like to be a missionary among a people who do not speak English. That feeling of desperately wanting to understand, of stretching brain and ear to grasp even a idea of what is being said, and yet coming away with that awful feeling of missing it all - in spite of those hours of study!
I've also been brokenhearted to feel what the illiterate, or those who do not have the Word of God in their own language, feel. I have a lovely little Arabic Injeel. (New Testament) It has a nice black leather cover, and a silk bookmark, and a really neat little zipper around it, and the pages look so crisp - but as I open that precious book, so full of words that could change my life, I come away feeling frustrated. Because I can read most of the words. I can sound out those characters. But what on earth does it mean?!? Words, sounds, but absolutely no heart understanding. Arabic is not my heart language. It means basically nothing to me.
But all in all, I think this extremely challenging language is finally beginning to make some sense to me. It's exciting when words keep popping out at me; when after the thousandth time of hearing that word, I can actually pronounce it. Language learning is hard business. But so worth the time put into it! So worth the reward of talking with a native speaker and really being understood; of being able to share the treasures I have found, in somebody's own heart-language. It's great. It's thrilling. I love it!
It's been difficult, frustrating, and really exciting, all at once. Learning a language is not easy, but I am enjoying it immensely! It has given me a new perspective on what it's like to be a missionary among a people who do not speak English. That feeling of desperately wanting to understand, of stretching brain and ear to grasp even a idea of what is being said, and yet coming away with that awful feeling of missing it all - in spite of those hours of study!
I've also been brokenhearted to feel what the illiterate, or those who do not have the Word of God in their own language, feel. I have a lovely little Arabic Injeel. (New Testament) It has a nice black leather cover, and a silk bookmark, and a really neat little zipper around it, and the pages look so crisp - but as I open that precious book, so full of words that could change my life, I come away feeling frustrated. Because I can read most of the words. I can sound out those characters. But what on earth does it mean?!? Words, sounds, but absolutely no heart understanding. Arabic is not my heart language. It means basically nothing to me.
But all in all, I think this extremely challenging language is finally beginning to make some sense to me. It's exciting when words keep popping out at me; when after the thousandth time of hearing that word, I can actually pronounce it. Language learning is hard business. But so worth the time put into it! So worth the reward of talking with a native speaker and really being understood; of being able to share the treasures I have found, in somebody's own heart-language. It's great. It's thrilling. I love it!
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