Category: stories

Susan and I took a quick trip to Israel last week. Some of you may remember the story of a little boy named Roy I met on a flight from Paris to Atlanta six years ago. Well, his dad Steve invited us to Roy’s Bar Mitzvah to be held at Massada on April 21 and 22. Susan and I landed in Tel Aviv on Sunday afternoon to be welcomed by a downcast father. “We’ve got to talk,” Steve said. “Due to the volcanic eruption in Iceland, the Paris airport is shut down and Roy can’t get here. We’re going to have to postpone the celebration for a week. I am so sorry. I wanted to inform you but you had already left before we knew for sure.”

So what do you say? The whole reason we made a trip had just been canceled. But I knew Steve already felt horrible and I knew God had arranged for us to be there, so I just said, “Don’t worry about us, Steve. We’re happy to be here and we’ll pray that something works out where the celebration can still take place.” Steve said there was really no hope for the Bar Mitzvah to happen. The dinner was canceled, the rabbi was canceled, the photographer was canceled, and fifty (or so) people were asked to re-schedule for the next week. Thankfully all the guests were from Israel except us and Steve’s sister from New York City.

So for a few days, Susan and I lived with Steve, his wife Anat, two-year-old Hilla, and three-year-old Sagi in Binyamina near the historical city of Caesarea on the Mediterranean Sea. We happened to be there for two national holidays. The equivalent of our Memorial Day was celebrated Sunday night and Monday. On this holiday, all Jewish citizens remembered the fallen soldiers from the past sixty-three years. A television station dedicated the day to the memory of those who had given their lives. Pictures were shown and relatives spoke on camera about their loved ones. Periodically a siren sounded throughout the country and all stood in silence to remember those that had made the ultimate sacrifice for their nation. Monday night the grieving turned to celebration as Independence Day began. Food was enjoyed, flags were waved, and fireworks lit up the skies of the small coastal town. All day Tuesday we were on the top of Mount Carmel for a cookout. Most of the people we met assumed we were Jewish and asked when we were planning to immigrate. When they discovered we were Christians we had some very interesting conversations. Our new friends were very intelligent, very friendly, and very talkative. Children played, people sang and danced, and we all enjoyed delicious food.

Tuesday night, Steve burst into our room yelling, “God may be answering your prayers!” Roy’s mom had found a way to Israel through Spain. For a long time Steve made numerous phone calls to try to bring everything back together. Sixteen hours later we found ourselves at the Dead Sea checking into the Massada Guest House. More people came to the celebration than they had originally planned. Thirteen-year-old Roy was surrounded by friends and family at a huge feast held in his honor. We were wakened at 4:30 Thursday morning to take the cable car up the historic Massada mountain to watch the sun rise. There, at an ancient synagogue, the Torah was read and the rabbi welcomed Roy to manhood before the God of Israel.

To tell you the truth, when I think of this trip, my head starts spinning. We’ve been trying to encourage one another lately to say “yes” to our Heavenly Father… no matter what He asks. I’ve come to the conclusion that God likes roller coasters. In six or seven days our plans probably changed a dozen times. Most of the time the only profitable thing we could do was pray. (I think I hear God whispering, “Exactly! And believe I can do all things!”) But that’s the challenge in walking by faith, isn’t it? It is easy to rejoice when everything’s going according to schedule, but what happens when a little volcano shuts down an entire continent? “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in Me.” Jesus said this to his disciples a few hours before their world turned upside down. His encouragement is the same today.

As Susan and I lived in a Jewish home and walked in a foreign neighborhood and met a diverse people, I felt God’s pleasure. When we arrived home, Steve sent an e-mail that made me think. If we are simply kind… if we will simply pray… if, by God’s grace, we simply say “yes” to his invitations, maybe it makes a difference. “Dear Dana and Susan, Thanks for the prayers and great wishes. They surely did something and maybe thanks to those prayers this whole event occurred after all. Thanks! Steve.”

“In the same way,  let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.” Matthew 5:16

Our high school students did Bible skits for the children of Verbo Christian School in Riobamba. After the skit there was usually an activity planned. One day a class of second graders was given an assignment to draw a picture dealing with the story of David and Goliath. I was sitting on the back row with José on my left and Ricardo on my right. Our American kids passed out crayons to the children. Like all the other children, José received three crayons and began drawing a picture. Ricardo was the last student to receive crayons and since there was an abundance, one of our students gave him an unopened box. Ricardo had 24 brand new crayons! He was so excited.

But I noticed a huge difference between José and Ricardo. Without looking up, José diligently worked with his three crayons. Ricardo, though, spent the first five minutes just admiring his box. Then I noticed he kept running to other parts of the room. Our technology-savvy American kids often took pictures with their digital cameras. Ricardo wanted to be in every picture! Finally, he came back to his seat, opened his new box and gazed at the various colors inside. The craft time was coming to a close and Ricardo had not made one mark on his paper. One of our students said, “OK, time to finish up!” Ricardo then panicked. He looked over at José’s picture, pulled out a crayon and quickly tried to copy what his friend had done. At the close of the activity, José had created a beautiful picture with three colors. Ricardo only had an unoriginal sketch drawn in the color ‘gray’.

I’m sure not trying to bash little Ricardo, but he made me think. How many colors have I been given? Have I even opened my box? How often am I distracted by the things of this world that get me off task? Do I have much time left? Am I doing what I’m really supposed to be doing or am I just copying someone else? Little kids in Ecuador can raise some important questions …

“Again, the kingdom of heaven will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted his property to them. To one he gave five talents of money, to another two talents, and to another one talent, each according to his ability…” Matt 25:14-30

The Sunday we were in Ecuador we attended the Verbo Church held in the gym of the Verbo Christian School in Riobamba. I kept asking the significance of the name and finally a little boy brought us a Bible (a different translation than the Spanish Bible we had). “In the beginning was the Verbo, and the Verbo was with God, and the Verbo was God.” I said, “Gracias.” When worship began I could not help but notice the energy and passion put forth by the people. These Christians did not have the material blessings we Americans have, but there was a joy and simplicity in their worship that was moving.

Across the aisle from me stood a mother in the simple garb of her culture. She was short, as are the majority of the people we met. She had distinct Indian features and a pleasant countenance. Her two sons stood next to her. I would guess they were ages 8 and 10. I couldn’t understand most of the words of the songs, but I didn’t need to be fluent in Spanish to recognize genuine worship. With eyes closed and hands open, this lady sang with all her heart. During the second song I noticed she was on her knees, hands still open, and tears streaming down her cheeks. Her sons put tissues in her hands as she sang to her God.

Conviction is a healthy thing, so don’t think this was a negative experience, but as I watched this sister in Christ, a few penetrating questions came to mind. “Why is she crying and my eyes are dry? Why are her hands open while mine are in my pockets? Why is she on her knees while I’m still on my feet?”

“What can be done with an old heart like mine? Soften it up with Oil and Wine. The Oil is You, your Spirit of Love, now wash me anew in the Wine of your Blood.” Keith Green must have felt the same way once as he wrote an honest song: “My eyes are dry, my faith is old, my heart is hard, my prayers are cold… And I know how I ought to be – alive to You and dead to me…” We get in these hardened places sometimes without even realizing it. My wife, Susan, has told me a few reasons that probably contributed to my situation, but in this simple gym in Ecuador, God reminded me what to do. “Humble yourself. Draw close to Me. Admit what you see to be true. Ask Me to touch the deep places of your heart.”

God used a worshipping mother to remind me that the ‘poor in spirit’ are really blessed. He showed me that my needs are just as great as hers and if I open my hands and heart, He’ll give me what is best. He showed me that tears often flow from a grateful heart and I have every reason to be grateful. He reminded me that his love endures forever… to every tribe and every tongue. He deserves all our praise…

“‘God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.’ Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and He will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. Grieve, mourn and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and He will lift you up.” James 4:6-10

One morning a couple of weeks ago, I sat by myself in a Chick-fil-A restaurant and witnessed a disturbing exchange. Just a few tables from me a father raised his voice toward his teenage daughter, “You don’t believe there’s a drink called a ‘Shirley Temple’? Do you think I’m lying to you? How dare you question your father!” With her back to me, the blond haired girl quietly pleaded, “Dad, you’re embarrassing me.” With a louder voice he yelled, “Yes I’m embarrassing you and you deserve it!” And with that he stormed out of the restaurant, went to his car, and smoked a cigarette. My heart went out to this young teenager. Left alone, she turned around to see who was watching. Our eyes met and all I could think to say was, “It’ll be OK.”

It is the faces of the children in Haiti that impact us most as we watch the news. We want to tell them, “It’ll be OK,” but deep down we wonder. We see volunteers from many nations holding children in their arms and we wish we could do the same. We see parents holding the hands of their own children and we long to help. Of course Haiti is not the only country with multitudes of hurting children.

So what do we do? Treasure the children in your own home. Be kind to the children in your own neighborhood and in your own city. Give to the hurting in foreign lands. Care for the orphans. Offer a cup of cold water in Jesus’ name. Ask to understand God’s heart for children and listen carefully to Jesus’ words. Love, love, love… and remember ‘love’ is an action word.

“At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, ‘Who is greatest in the kingdom of heaven?’ He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: ‘I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me. But if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea. Woe to the world because of the things that cause people to sin! Such things must come, but woe to the man through whom they come! … See that you do not look down on one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven.’” Matthew 18:1-10

“And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward.” Matthew 10:42

Hernato works hard in his dad’s seafood business in Natal, Brazil. He knows the city well, but Christmas night Hernato was focusing on a part of the streets he confessed he always ignored – the homeless. A group of thirty or so Brazilians and sixteen Americans sang songs, shared food and clothes, and befriended a group of men and women (and one baby) who, for one reason or another, found their home on the streets.

Hernato and another young man, Michael, came up to me and said, “Come with us! We want to find the friend you met last year.” All the homeless in that location knew Perecles. They said he slept a few streets over. They said he was probably ‘high’ from sniffing glue. Perecles taught the Americans about generosity last year, giving back a pair of shoes someone had given him. I shared the story with the group that gathered. “He still has no shoes!” someone laughed. An American had brought a pair of shoes especially for him, but Perecles was not there.

So a little after midnight, I found myself in the car with two young men driving up and down dark streets in a rough part of town. The searchers were not just going through the motions. They drove everywhere. They called strangers to the car window to ask questions. They shouted into the alleys. They got out of the car to search. I thought of Jesus’ parable of the shepherd looking for his lost sheep. Michael is a pastor’s son and such adventures are not uncommon for him. But this was new for Hernato and he seemed crushed that we could not find Perecles.

Hernato saw us off at the airport when we flew home the next week. “I’m going to keep looking for Perecles,” he told me. I’ll bet he finds him. This New Year I want to search for the lost with this passion I witnessed in Natal. It is not just a homeless drug addict with no shoes we’re looking for – we’re searching for a soul, a man with a name, created in the image of God. It is not just a teenager from an affluent family I am instructing – I am teaching a soul, a kid with a name, created in the image of God. It is not just a child I’m taking on a summer field trip – I am caring for a soul, a six-year-old with a name, created in the image of God.

“Remind me every breath I take, Lord, of your love for people. Fill me with that same love and bring the lost into your fold. Amen.”

“‘The wedding banquet is ready, but those I have invited did not deserve to come. Go to the street corners and invite to the banquet anyone you find.’ So the servants went out into the streets and gathered all the people they could find, both good and bad, and the wedding hall was filled with guests.” Matthew 22:8-10