Therefore, so far from causing grief, persecution should bring joy to the disciples of Christ, for it is an evidence that they are following in the steps of their Master. - Thought from the Mount of Blessing, pg. 30
My heart fairly broke when I heard the story. Juan Carlos and Ximena, two teens at our school in Bolivia, were notified by their parents to return home, or be disowned.
Poor kids! I had heard of this type of thing before, but now it was happening to some of my kids! I could only imagine what a very hard struggle it would be for them.
Does God want me to stay at this school? Is He telling me to leave? Does He have other plans for me? Is this just Satan working on me? Why does God allow this to happen? What is God like? Is He like my parents, so willing to disown me? These were the thoughts that must have raced through their young minds.
As soon as the morning jungle heat started to crowd in through the window every day, I would pray earnestly for these youth. Sometimes Ximena’s parents would come over and try to persuade her to come home. Ximena never gave in; she knew God wanted her at the school where she could learn more about Him.
1 Peter 2:21 says, “For even hereunto were ye called: because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow his steps:” Juan Carlos quit school under his family’s pressure. I still pray for him quite often, that God will show him that He loves His son, and that he yearns to bring him joy through the pain. “The Lord is… not willing that any should perish.” (2 Peter 3:9 KJV) God is the ultimate Father and we can trust He will never disown His children.
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
Violin War and Pufferfish
We have no ambition to crowd and elbow ourselves into notice; but we feel that our highest place is at the feet of our Saviour. We look to Jesus, waiting for His hand to lead, listening for His voice to guide. – Thoughts from the Mount of Blessing, pg. 15
“Dominique, I’m so happy you’ll be playing your violin at Pedro Lorenzo today!” Pastor Marc remarked over Sabbath breakfast. I smiled. It was always a joy for me to be a blessing to the churches here in Bolivia.
“No, Dominique is playing at Hamacas church today, Marc!” Richard, our director at Red ADvenir (a Television station), protested.
Oh boy! Here they go…
They went at each other for a while, arguing about who’s church needed my playing most. It felt good to be wanted so badly in more than one place, and I prayed God would keep my pride from swelling up like a puffer fish.
“Where do you want to go, Dominique?” Marc probed. I expelled a sigh of relief and explained that I wanted to go to Pedro Lorenzo because it was a smaller congregation. Richard was a little upset, and he made me promise to play at Hamacas the following Sabbath. I smiled again and gave Richard my word.
Being a musician is a dangerous thing. It can make it very hard to keep my pride from becoming a puffer fish. Often it rears its ugly head, but by God’s grace, with constant prayer for Him to lead, He is slowly helping me to realize that my highest place is at His feet.
“Dominique, I’m so happy you’ll be playing your violin at Pedro Lorenzo today!” Pastor Marc remarked over Sabbath breakfast. I smiled. It was always a joy for me to be a blessing to the churches here in Bolivia.
“No, Dominique is playing at Hamacas church today, Marc!” Richard, our director at Red ADvenir (a Television station), protested.
Oh boy! Here they go…
They went at each other for a while, arguing about who’s church needed my playing most. It felt good to be wanted so badly in more than one place, and I prayed God would keep my pride from swelling up like a puffer fish.
“Where do you want to go, Dominique?” Marc probed. I expelled a sigh of relief and explained that I wanted to go to Pedro Lorenzo because it was a smaller congregation. Richard was a little upset, and he made me promise to play at Hamacas the following Sabbath. I smiled again and gave Richard my word.
Being a musician is a dangerous thing. It can make it very hard to keep my pride from becoming a puffer fish. Often it rears its ugly head, but by God’s grace, with constant prayer for Him to lead, He is slowly helping me to realize that my highest place is at His feet.
Nigua
In working for the victims of evil habits, instead of pointing them to the despair and ruin toward which they are hastening, turn their eyes away to Jesus. Fix them upon the glories of the heavenly. – The Ministry of Healing, pg. 62
He [Satan] casts a spell over his unsuspecting victims, charming them as the serpent charms the trembling bird. Soon they are completely in his power, and sin, disgrace, and ruin are the terrible sequel. – Christian Temperance, pg. 115
Nigua: a small, sand-dwelling insect that reproduces by injecting its egg sack into the foot of an unsuspecting human, which then grows and could eventually hatch and kill the human, if not removed.
“Dominique!” I heard my mom holler from under her mosquito net across the room. “Come here!” she called; the urgency in her voice forced my slumbering body to rise. As I stepped out from under my own mosquito net I looked at my watch, it was almost midnight.
I made my way through the dark room to the base of my mom’s bed and asked her what was wrong. “I have a Nigua in my foot, but I can’t get to it. Get a needle and pull the egg sack out” my mom commanded. I fumbled for a needle and a headlamp and was soon performing my first miniature surgery on my mom’s foot. I got the egg sack out, sterilized the needle and promptly fell asleep again on my hay mattress.
Satan takes every opportunity he can to pounce on and inject his lies into some unsuspecting victim. These lies will grow into sin if not removed, and can kill the host. But they cannot be removed by the victim; it takes the Master Physician with the needle of truth to pull out the eggs that Satan has implanted.
He [Satan] casts a spell over his unsuspecting victims, charming them as the serpent charms the trembling bird. Soon they are completely in his power, and sin, disgrace, and ruin are the terrible sequel. – Christian Temperance, pg. 115
Nigua: a small, sand-dwelling insect that reproduces by injecting its egg sack into the foot of an unsuspecting human, which then grows and could eventually hatch and kill the human, if not removed.
“Dominique!” I heard my mom holler from under her mosquito net across the room. “Come here!” she called; the urgency in her voice forced my slumbering body to rise. As I stepped out from under my own mosquito net I looked at my watch, it was almost midnight.
I made my way through the dark room to the base of my mom’s bed and asked her what was wrong. “I have a Nigua in my foot, but I can’t get to it. Get a needle and pull the egg sack out” my mom commanded. I fumbled for a needle and a headlamp and was soon performing my first miniature surgery on my mom’s foot. I got the egg sack out, sterilized the needle and promptly fell asleep again on my hay mattress.
Satan takes every opportunity he can to pounce on and inject his lies into some unsuspecting victim. These lies will grow into sin if not removed, and can kill the host. But they cannot be removed by the victim; it takes the Master Physician with the needle of truth to pull out the eggs that Satan has implanted.
Bugs!
Trials patiently borne, blessings gratefully received, temptations manfully resisted, meekness, kindness, mercy, and love habitually revealed, are the lights that shine forth in the character in contrast with the darkness of the selfish heart, into which the light of life has never shone. - Thoughts from the Mount of Blessing, pg.44
“Ahhhhhhh!!!!” my mom screamed; I whizzed around just in time to see a green cockroach dart its way out of the pasta we were planning to have for lunch. We were new missionaries, and still weren’t quite used to finding arthropods everywhere—in everything.
“Should we still eat it?” mom asked, all googly-eyed. I tentatively nodded yes because we didn’t have the resources to just throw it away. We put the idea of ingesting the grimy trail of a slop covered cockroach out of our minds and ate the pasta anyway.
We couldn’t seem to escape these bugs. Weevils, flies, and other vile insects seemed to bombard much of the food we ate.
Before I was sent to another land, I never would have eaten the detestable things I ate in Bolivia. Seeing the extent of the poverty the Bolivian people endured taught me to be thankful for the food that was put in front of me—bugs and all. And through that experience, God enabled my selfish heart to change into a grateful heart.
“Ahhhhhhh!!!!” my mom screamed; I whizzed around just in time to see a green cockroach dart its way out of the pasta we were planning to have for lunch. We were new missionaries, and still weren’t quite used to finding arthropods everywhere—in everything.
“Should we still eat it?” mom asked, all googly-eyed. I tentatively nodded yes because we didn’t have the resources to just throw it away. We put the idea of ingesting the grimy trail of a slop covered cockroach out of our minds and ate the pasta anyway.
We couldn’t seem to escape these bugs. Weevils, flies, and other vile insects seemed to bombard much of the food we ate.
Before I was sent to another land, I never would have eaten the detestable things I ate in Bolivia. Seeing the extent of the poverty the Bolivian people endured taught me to be thankful for the food that was put in front of me—bugs and all. And through that experience, God enabled my selfish heart to change into a grateful heart.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)