A New Year

 Today is January 5, 2012, the beginning of a new year. The occasion of a new year always brings about the opportunity for a few things. Resolutions of how better to spend, shape, and chisel our lives in the days to come. Also with the New Year comes opportunity for reflection on the events of the stellar cycle just completed. Over the past few days my thoughts have been trapped in a cycle of reflection contemplating the events, emotions and roads traveled and how God is building us through these things.

  First, just to get this out of the way one of my resolutions for the days to come is to write on this blog site more frequently. Our recent visit home to the U.S. revealed just how little loved ones in our lives knew about what we are doing in Honduras and maybe even just how little they know about us. This is no fault of their own, just a poor reflection of our communication with those whom we love so dearly.  This is my first attempt toward resolution of our poor communication.

  As I reflected upon the past year; at the transition of lives from one stage to another, from one place to another, from one security to another, one emotion stuck out in my thoughts more than any I might have preferred. I wish it had been peace in knowing that we were in God's hands, peace in knowing that we were where He wants us, doing what He would have us do. I wish that my overwhelming emotion had been resolve, resolve to do the work in which He put in front of us at all costs with courage and boldness without turning back to look at what might have been or looking ahead to see what might be, but to just be resolved to stand in each moment and to slug away with kingdom purpose and urgency.  Unfortunately, the emotion and the thing that I feel like shaped the past year of my life and has created a cloud of uncertainty in which I still am trying to navigate is the cloud of grief.  It seems as though the ones we lost and the things that were taken away and the things that we left behind cast a large emotional shadow that is difficult to emerge from behind.

  In January of 2011 Julie's grandmother past away, she had battled many ailments over the past years, but was always a cementing force in her family. The family she left behind is marked by incredible faith, love and compassion. Her leaving us was our children's first exposure to death and mortality and loss. It was blow that we knew was coming, however, try as you might to prepare for the impact, the pain felt is very real and raw and no matter what the situation leaves you staggered. A grief.

  

In February my mother passed away from cancer. I learned something very stirring from her last days. She had fought bravely for 3 years, a diagnosis which only promised days. I saw her actually gain strength as person as she fought. I saw others benefit from that strength. She became more than just my mother she became a picture of strength to those she saw in the chemo ward or the oncology office or the nurses and doctors who treated her. While she seemed to avoid conversations that dealt with faith, in one particularly stubborn moment while I pleaded with her to move to my home, she proclaimed, "What I want to do is sit my fanny right here in this chair until I die and see Jesus". Faith demonstrates itself in different ways. In her last days, as an infection riddled her body and we sat with her in the hospital waiting for the moment she would slip from this world I saw something. I saw that people are just not meant to die. Death is indeed a curse that came to man after God created us. It is a curse that we cannot out run or outwit or out engineer or out fight but we will try because it was not for us; it is abstract, obtuse. We were wired for life, life with God. The life we lead now in the shadow of death is a result of sin which has only one escape through Jesus Christ. While I knew her death was coming, my mother had always been, even in times of disagreement, a great encourager and a source of strength that I miss greatly on a daily basis.  A grief.

  Shortly after my mother's passing my career and I took separate paths. For years I had struggled to find a place in the organics market. I felt great highs in the process I felt accomplishment and for a time I was innovative in my field. The rewards I wanted from my work eluded me though and the highs and the successes were checked by failures and disappointments. A life no longer consumed with the business has left a strange but present hole.  A grief.

  

When we made the decision to come to Honduras to follow God's call, to follow Christ's command in scripture, and to follow the conviction placed on us by the Spirit through scripture and compassion, we made a decision that came with exclusion. Simply meaning, when we chose this direction in life, we excluded other possibilities. It is simply not possible to see our family often, it is not possible to worship with the people we love, it is not possible to maintain relationships the way you would when you see people on a regular basis. We simply excluded the possibility of being there in any circumstance. I am not trying to say that there is regret in our decision but simply that the people in our lives are important and occupy a huge place in our hearts and we miss them and we deal with missing them every day. A grief.

  Each day here in Siguatepeque I see desperate people. Around this community within a very short distance are people who struggle on a daily basis just for sustenance. Within the school where Julie teaches I see children whose lives are simply void of encouragement, families who are spread across the world, children who deal with loss and grief of their own. On the seminary campus where we are working I see a people who are failing to live and work in the power that God has given us as His followers. I see gifts and talents go unused, I see voices go unheard because they don't speak. I see ministry go undone because of fear of offending, or fear of change, or fear of losing face, or fear of losing position that is not really ours anyways it is only on loan from God. I see God's people living in fear. The truth is I saw it home in the U.S. too, I've seen it in my life; I see it in my life. A grief.

In the upcoming days we as a family will be making important decisions in regards to our future. Our time in Honduras ends with the depletion of the budget we set before departing. This should occur at the end of the school year and we will return to the U.S. in late June and with this will come some form of grief, it is actually is already here. We have begun work here in the places where God has put us and we are trying to do that work with all of the skill and talent that God has granted us. The seminary by far has much work to be done with crops and with farmers. The school will see new teachers and the children new sources of instruction, love, and encouragement. Baseball… who knows yet? A grief.

  

While I know grief is something that we all deal with... Sometimes more than others, grief is not for us to be defeated by or even languished in. The simple fact is that the grief of loss felt by those who depart us will be overwhelmed by joy at our reunion in the kingdom. The losses of this world will be replaced by treasures in Heaven and our defeats will be reconciled by Christ who conquers all.

  

I know that out there some of you are reflecting on the year past as well. You too are dealing with and living through loss and the law of exclusion. You too are troubled by what you see and trying to function as best you can in it and seeking God's will in each step. Rest well knowing you are not alone and that there is comfort and opportunity in these experiences.

2 Corinthians 1: 3-5  Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.