My Magnetic North

If you’ve been following our blog lately, you know I’ve been in China this week on a business trip. I’m now returning on the long leg home with almost the same amount of time on my hands as that of when I wrote my entry of September 26^th (or thereabouts – I’ve sort of lost track of time). As you might have deduced, I’ve wrestled greatly about the separation from my family, much more than I could possibly convey in written word. I worried of the miles between us to the point of almost getting an upset stomach. My sleep patterns had anything but a pattern, and my appetite was constricted. So physically speaking, this trip has done a number on my body. I’ve tried to stay close to the Lord and allow Him to be my portion (cf. Numbers 18:20b). There’s been no other portion for me to have. And while I wish I could say that it satisfied, it didn’t, at least not completely and all the time. God’s always in the business of satisfying, but I’m afraid I’m not always in the business of being satisfied by Him.

With the extra time on my hands while alone at night (at the same time as most of you were just waking up from a night’s sleep), I had plenty opportunity to think, pray and read. I went on long walks, perhaps miles (kilometers over there), mulling over and over and over again a myriad of thoughts, memories and reflections. All of this while immersed in a sea of people, but it was almost as if they were not there. I couldn’t get my family off my mind, and so anxiety set in until I was able come back to my magnetic north that pointed me where I needed.

Here’s where the compass pulled me, and Jesus spoke to me with these words, “Why are you so afraid?” (Mark 4:40a) “I don’t know why I’m afraid, my Lord”, I responded. “Help me with my fear.” (cf. Mark 9:24) When Jesus asked this question of the disciples who thought they were going to perish at the hands of the storm, their fear turned to a different kind, one of awe. They had just witnessed power to such a degree that even the wind and the waves fell subject to His command. There was a hush in their midst. The author, Mark, says “… there was a great calm”. (Mark 4:39b) I felt it then at that moment when He whispered those words into my ear, even though I thought the surge of the sea was crashing in around me. It comes when all other things are tuned out and I listen to the Word of Life, Truth. There are two places where I “hear” this calm. One is at the hands of the instrument, like Saul when David played the harp for him at times of distress. (cf. I Samuel) Sweet melody and lyric (music) of the kind that exalt Jesus bring me to that place. The other is much more powerful, and that’s at the hands of the Book. For Jesus alone possesses “the words of eternal life”. (John 6:68b) They’re “… perfect, restoring the soul;” They’re “sure, making wise the simple.” They’re “right, rejoicing the heart;” They’re “pure, enlightening the eyes.” They’re “clean, enduring forever;” They’re “true; they are righteous altogether. They are more desirable than gold, yes, than much fine gold; Sweeter also than honey and the drippings of the honeycomb.” (Psalm 19:7-10)

I’m moving away from the sun, and it has quickly become dark. My daylight has been cut short, so I shall sleep, now while you sleep. When I awake, I will almost be home. My good friend Huang, from China, who I spent most of my time with while there, told me that I should sleep with my head pointed north because the magnetic pull is good for my blood flow. I’m afraid I’m sitting east/west and cannot turn the plane in a different direction. That’s O. K., I’d rather have poor circulation to reach my destination than any physical gain from pointing toward the poles. For now I’m calm again, in the presence of Jesus who just set the sun. “Do not be afraid” (Mark 6:50b), He gently says to me… He says to you.

I'm Coming Home

After a surprising and unusual good first night’s sleep in Beijing, I ventured to various business sites throughout the day and flew directly to Shanghai that night. While my stay was short, to use to oft over-used colloquialism, “it was sweet”.  That night I checked into my hotel only to step into what is definitely the most posh and opulent hotel I’ve ever stayed in. I immediately felt out of place and said to myself, “I don’t belong here”. As I later said to Victoria, it has everything you could possibly imagine, and everything you could possibly not. But what struck me most was what I saw out the window that night after walking across the room and opening the drapes. With jaw still on the floor from the ostentatious conditions of my living, I stared upon an old, run down building with rusty air conditioning units and laundry hung outside the windows to air-dry. I immediately went from awe to a very different kind of awe, and it almost literally brought me to tears. The emotional confluence of conditions was perfect for a flood of reactions, most of which were sobering. What contrast, what dichotomy, and what extremes. I can’t really make heads nor tails of it.

 

Most live on the side outside my window. I encountered many today, a closing day of finishing out a few business details and then exploring some of the back alleys of Shanghai. As a gray-haired, bearded westerner I stood out like a sore thumb, even in this very international and cosmopolitan city, especially in those parts. I eventually made my way over to the Expo – 2010, and saw there multitudes of what looked like those who lived in conditions similar to those in view outside my hotel window. Most had smiles on their faces, living peaceful and contented lives. But what do I know? I cannot peer into their hearts.

 

On a few different occasions this week I heard American colleagues of mine say to me, “That is so Chinese!”, referring to a business practice that is so counter-culture to the United States that is seems unfathomable. But is it wrong? I suspect the opposite might be said of Americans when Chinese businesspeople visit the United States. “That’s so American!”  Yes it is, to both of us. Whenever I visit this country I’m reminded of how narrow-minded I am about so many things in life. There are a ton of people here, it’s not nearly as open as the United States, it smells in some places, cars and bicycles/motorcycles are everywhere, it’s noisy, etc. But… so what? It’s life, and these people are making it work. And for many, it’s a good life. But regardless of whether you’re from China or from America, there’s one thing we all need and lack of ourselves, and that’s perfect love. Everyone’s searching for it – it doesn’t matter where you’re planted on the globe.

 

Saying good-bye to China and Shanghai for now. I’m attaching a final night shot of Pudong (hope it posts because facebook and Blogger are still definitely blocked). I’m lonely, tired and homesick.  I’m ready for some love.

 

Take me home, Jesus,

kings, and the King

Right now I'm somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, but I have no idea where except that I'm between the West Coast of the United States and the East Coast of China. Not only that, but I have no idea if this blog entry will actually log into our site. We tried blogging from China eight months ago (when we adopted Xiao Qian) using this "e-mail" method (I'm sending an e-mail into Blogger), and it seemed to work. Blogger may not still be blocked in China as it was back then, but I have a little time on my hands right now (a 12 hour flight mind you), so I thought I'd take advantage of the opportunity by opening up my laptop and journaling some thoughts. I'm not really that tired, even though it's about 10:30 on Saturday night, about 1:30 p.m. on Sunday in China. (I arrive @ ~6:00 p.m., China-time.) These momentary spells of solitude don't come my way that often anymore.

When I left this morning I was a little sick to my stomach. I'm emotionally juxtaposed between a very, very exciting business opportunity in China and leaving what I love most on this earth behind, my family. I was so torn about it a few days ago that I think I only got a couple hours of sleep that night. And this morning's good-bye was heart-wrenching, sort of a déjà vu from when Annie left for CalPOLY about two weeks ago. Poppy's reaction was almost identical to what I described in an earlier blog post this month, which didn't help matters much. Geese, I love those people!

So how do I make heads and tails out of all this severe cognitive dissonance I'm experiencing? How do I wrestle with the notion of caring for my family with work (we have to work) and to what extent when it means that we're separated, this time for five to six days? Is this what God has called a father of six (four at home) and a husband to Victoria to do? Answer: I don't know! How's that for peace of mind? Perhaps I might be judged by others, but none more severely than me. Here's what I know… For whatever reason, and this I do not know either, I have "found favor in the eyes" of the "king" (Genesis 39:4). Victoria reminds me of this all the time. The "king" has entrusted an enormous amount of responsibility to me and he never worries about that part of his kingdom, and by this I'm humbled and honored, both at the same time. I've often felt like Joseph knowing that I could have very well been left in the pit without discovery or drawing out. And when found? I could have been owned as a slave and always stayed a slave. But no, God's placed me under the rule of a king, and The King has set me free. So I wrestle to honor both of them, never the highest at the expense of the lower. In fact, I've often told my "king" I cannot go there, or do that, or whatever because it might dishonor the King. Not once have I ever been criticized (at least to my knowledge) for being an ambassador to the King of kings. So here's what I've done… When asked by the king to make a sacrifice like this, I have to believe that it falls under the banner and authority of my King. What I'm doing is not sinful, and sinful "no-no's" I will not ignore. What I am doing is obeying, and sometimes that comes with a price. And furthermore, I have to trust that the price will yield a return much greater than my puny mind allows me to comprehend, because right now it seems like the yield is in the red. I often look to Victoria as a bellwether when placed in positions like this. Her support, although honest about the heartache and effort, are tuning rods that resonate with what I feel is God's current direction for me. I told Victoria the other day, "I will walk away from it all, without hesitation, if I for one moment I feel that we're jeopardizing the most important thing He's ever called us to, and that's one another."

So for now, I'm on my way to China. Excited, scared, nervous, homesick and prayerful. Most of all, I'm now at peace, at least for now, because God has chosen to give me favor in the eyes of the king, favor in the eyes of my wife, favor in the eyes of my children, and most of all favor in the eyes of my King.

I love you, Jesus,

China-Bound

Exactly eight (8) months ago, today, we were in China to unite our family with another. And today, without coincidence, I leave to go back to China, only this time for what feels like a divide. I'm blue about leaving what was united back then and now, and am hopeful that an equally greater uniting will occur while I'm gone. The only grain of sacrifice that will make this trip worthwhile for me is knowing that Truth and Life will go to into a place where it's never penetrated before.

I need your prayers, and my family needs them too.

Here's to China, a land we love. Here's to my family, the one I love. And here's to Jesus, the One who loves.

R Revolving Door

Our household feels so much like a revolving door at times. Austin & Meagan are in, then they're out. Xiao Qian's in, and thankfully staying in. Barret's at a point where less than a year from now he'll be out. And then you just have the normal course-of-life stuff, like me off to work and then back, the little girls off to school and then back, Barret's off to work and then back.

But the latest swing of the revolving door that caught my foot between it and the threshold was Annie's recent departure back to college. This will be her last and final senior year, and she stayed with us over the summer while doing a couple of graphic design internships. Last Sunday we helped pack all of her things up and load them into her car. It was sort of like Groundhog Day because we've deja-vu-ed this scene on several different occasions in the past. But this time was unique for me, only because I caught a glimpse of something that is usually a little foggier.

While standing in the culdesac with Victoria, Willow and Poppy, Annie started her car. I could see Poppy's face out of the corner of my eye, staring at her oldest sister who's elbow was peering out of an open window and her face turned toward us. With only a slight glance at Poppy, an indelible vision pierced my heart. I ended up taking a double-take, and then turned toward Poppy only to see the most forlorn look on the sweetest little face I've ever seen. Her lower lip was wet and droopy, and her eyes were wells of water. With a soft whisper Poppy said, "I wish Annie didn't have to go." I was feeling the same way at that moment, but it wasn't until I saw Poppy's face that it really hit me. I could hardly control my own pressure packed flood gate, and then couldn't hold back a few tears as we waved good-bye while her car turned the corner and then out of sight. I (we) will miss Annie, no doubt, but I will forever be moved by the powerful love-bond that exists between Annie and Poppy. Annie was there from the very beginning (along with all of us), but she's "mothered" Poppy in second position to Victoria whenever Victoria's needed a breather. They laugh a lot together, and often sleep next to each other while snuggled in the trundle bed. Annie's changed her diapers, cradled her to sleep, fed her a bottle, bathed her body, cuti-fied her hair, taken her on special dates, dressed her up, disciplined her and loved her as a her own - she is her own. And this latest revolution of the revolving door now separates those experiences, but the memories live on. There's something about the two of them that at that moment sent me into a tailspin of "good-bye" grief, realizing that "r" revolving door of life will never stop spinning. With each revolution, we're watching the hand of God do what He's always done, and that's prepare the next generation to carry on what He's begun in us, and what He began in Victoria's and my parents, and their parents, and so on.

Sometimes Victoria and I just want the revolving to stop, to stand still if you will. We love each other so much, it pains all of us to be caught in its spin. We have visions of stepping out of the door and cocooning in seclusion. For now, we're indebted and grateful beyond expression that we still all have one another, even if it's at times from a distance.

Beautiful People

A friend of ours at church mentioned this most recent Blog entry of Francis Chan's that she said I just had to read. I did, and must also simply pass it along (click on link below):

http://raychoi.org/2010/09/13/where-is-francis-chan-beautiful-people-sept-2010/

O to be as transparent and real as Francis. And O to be as willing to sacrifice all, most of all our comforts in order to image-bear Jesus to a dying and lost world.

Living by faith to be at peace in the unknown,

Story of Love

I was scanning the website of one of my favorite "go-to" preachers of late, David Platt, author of "Radical", in hopes of finding something to feed my spirit. I happened upon this sermon (video-cast), and was simply blown away by the remarkable artistry found within the first twenty minutes. In fact, it might be one of the most powerful presentations of good news I've ever seen or heard. If you're so inclined, take a gander. And if you're searching for truth, real truth (not the kind that claims to be truth but you eventually discover has countless pitfalls), then you will want to hang on and listen to the entire talk. (Click on Link Below)

http://www.brookhills.org/media/series/story-of-love/

By Faith Under the Story of Love,

Quenched Thirsts and Forgiven Daddies

My Dear Poppy-Girl,

I barked at you Sunday night because you told me you were thirsty. It was late and I had already come back into the room on several occasions to get you and your little sister to stop giggling and go to sleep. You had school the next day. But as soon as I uttered my harsh, loud “No”, I knew I was in the wrong before I could even finish blurting out that short two letter word. It’s not that I can’t tell you “no” because I’m your father. But all day long I’d been thinking about myself, "engaged" with you and the family but not really. My response was not one of loving discipline, but anger and frustration just because I didn’t want to be interrupted any longer.

And that request for water? I realize now that you really were thirsty even though you might also have possessed a slight tinge of manipulation behind your tone. When you cowered away from me with a broken heart I knew that God was pricking my conscience with a sense of shame. After walking to the bathroom with my head held low, I returned with a Dixie cup of water (in spite of my "no"). Then I knelt down while you hid under the covers because you didn’t want me to see the tears on your cheeks. As you peeked out from under those sheets I put my eyes in front of yours and said, “Daddy was wrong to yell at you like that, Poppy. I was being selfish. Even daddies and mommies get selfish. But I love you, Sweetie. O. K.? Will you forgive me?” You put your soft little arms around my neck, and slowly and softly said, “I love you too, Daddy. It’s O. K. I forgive you. Willow and I are going to go to sleep now.”

Afterward I went and sedated myself with a silly T.V. movie which made me laugh, but still left me empty. I, too, then tried to go to sleep but couldn't, and it was because I was also thirsty. As much as I wanted and needed your forgiveness, my heart was parched for God's as well. So I arose and told Him what He already knew and asked Him what He wanted to hear from my own lips. Like you He quickly forgave, and then I was able to sleep.

I'm glad your thirst was quenched, and I'm glad I'm forgiven. I love you, Poppy.

And the Bride Wore Cowboy Boots

Victoria just sent me this story of a remarkable couple (click on link below):

http://www.theblazingcenter.com/2010/08/and-the-bride-wore-cowboy-boots.html

Victoria summed it up well when she wrote to our family with this link attached, "My heart feels so small sometimes." Today it feels a little larger having read and known this faith story of love.

Feeling spurred on,

Be Still and Know That I Am...

I like to sleep. Who doesn't? I don't usually have much of a problem falling to sleep. Ask Victoria. She stopped trying to talk to me while lying in bed a long time ago.

But sometimes, rarely in fact, I find myself awoken in the wee hours of the morning for no seeming reason. When I cannot fall back to sleep, I ask myself if it's God trying to get my attention. On Friday morning, at 1:30, I determined He was clearly knocking on the door from heaven. I asked Him if He'd just let me go back to sleep, but He'd have nothing of it. So, one hour later, I decided to get up and meet with Him. I donned my shorts, shirt and a sweatshirt and stumbled to the backyard through the darkness of the night. Finding a lawn chair, I sat under the almost full moon, stars and tree silhouettes. There was an irregularity of wind gusts, causing the eucalyptus trees to sway to and fro with a swishing sound that might usually seem eerie, but this time was easing. Feeling the urge to say something to God, like, "What? What is it? Do you have something you want to say to me?", I was restrained with the counter thought that maybe I don't need to say anything. And likewise, it suddenly dawned on me that He didn't have anything to say to me. He just wanted to be with me. And so it is between friends. Sometimes the best times are those when nothing is said at all. And for the first time, perhaps ever, I felt like I understood what it meant to "Be still and know that I am...".

I see little but the shadows cast from the moon's white light,
I hear nothing but the trees rustling from the wind's soft touch,
I look much deeper from the spirit that woke my solemn rest,
I wait for a word from the friend that asked me to listen tonight.

That word came in silence.

Being still,

The Sting of A Scythe

Separation stings like the swath of a scythe. Enduring a fair share, albeit light by comparison to most, has put a slight damper on our spirits. Thus the silence in our posts, lacking any creativity or the energy.

We finally lost our sweet Rosie-girl (Golden Retriever of 12 years). [I know, we posted while last in China that she was gone for good, but revived like a cat with nine-lives.] Her departure brought us much lower than we ever expected. Gentle strokes against her soft, warm snout while she closed her eyes under a strong sedative, opened the floodgates of quiet tears and a decade of memories. After the last beat of her heart, I lifted her warm, lifeless body and gingerly placed her in a shell with a comfortable blanket. We whispered to her a sweet, "Good-bye, Rosie", and then saw the last of her. That day marked the end of an era for our family, a time when all three of our first set of kids roamed about the house with the smell of a furry canine and the remnants of hair throughout. Weeks have passed, but our hearts still ache. She was a dog, but now we understand the pain others have felt knowing that she really was much more than that. God was good to let us have her so. Now hardly a day goes by when we don't say to one another, "I miss Rosie."

In contrast, we lifted our spirits by soon traveling to Colorado to vacation with Austin, Meagan and her parents (the Kirkpatrick's). Populating their household from four to ten was taken in good stride. We quickly felt at home. Our week adjacent to the Rockies, ever in view and sometimes in their midst, might rank as the highlight of our summer. But with that high came the low of another good-bye. Separating from Austin, Meagan and the Kirkpatrick's was a grief observed, again much stronger than we anticipated. Suddenly we were a family, less some. Austin was right when he said to me while standing beneath the expanse of the stars one warm evening, "All seems right and as it should be when we're all together." Yes, and all seems not so right when we're not.

Finally, I will say "good-bye" to a long-time passion for the sake of another. Elaborate I will not, but the time has come and I must move on and release. And yet again I feel the loss to a stronger degree than I ever expected. It's hard to let go.

God did not create us for separation. That's why its sting will lose its victory, at least in the end. For now He sedates with a love like none other. The numbness will one day be gone forever.

Wannabe Cool?

The content of this article is wonderful, but what's over-the-top supernatural is that it was posted in the Wall Street Journal:

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704111704575355311122648100.html?KEYWORDS=houses+of+worship

Don't want cool, but wanna be real,