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Revelation of Black Light

The miracle of chalk art illustrates the story of Luke 1-2. The historian Luke is the hand of the chalk artist, sketching a scene that spans over thirteen years. The picture incorporates a myriad of colors and details—some unusual features, yet from an outsider’s glance the scene is an ordinary one. The picture includes two women expecting their firstborns. But wait!—the one is far too old and the other seems especially young. The townspeople are gossiping about the girl; a scandal, they say, that this “good girl” would be pregnant, and her fiancé does not deny responsibility. Mystery also surrounds the older couple because of the husband’s recent malady of muteness.

The artist shows these two families (even though they live in different locations), and sketches other everyday details that highlight the cycles of time. Shepherds are on the hills in the background—it is that time of the year. The census is called—it is that time in the kingdom. Nine months pass for each woman and they give birth—it is the time of life. The couples circumcise and name their sons on the eighth day—it is the time and fulfillment of the law—and at forty days, the younger couple presents their son at the temple. The artist’s last strokes of chalk depict the son of the younger couple twelve years later, traveling to Jerusalem for the Feast of the Passover—the yearly time of sacrifice.

The lights dim and the artist Luke walks away. His sketch of these events, families, locations and cycles of life suddenly melt away. The black light—O light of Divine truth!—is turned upon the picture and the audience gasps in wonder. The chronos time has disappeared and kairos shines forth. The real picture, once invisible behind ordinary things, is now manifest. Scandal? No, now we see Mary embracing the angel’s unbelievable message and worshipping the Lord in humble joy. We see not only the old, mute father but now the prophetic angel meeting him in the temple—and suddenly his mouth open, pouring forth praise. And while the shepherds perform ordinary duties, the light of the Divine story—even God Incarnate—shines upon them as angels sweep them into the presence of Christ. The obedience to laws in circumcision, temple sacrifices and the Passover is suddenly transformed by the Redeeming One, who fulfills them in Himself.

The human narrative in Luke points to multiple people, locations, events, times and customs. The Divine narrative, however, illuminates these, unifying them in a single, definitive Event. It is one story, the fulfillment of the past, the hope of the future: this “black light” proclaims the story of redemption.

January 8

After three wonderful weeks with two wonderful families and many friends, Daniel and I boarded a plane this morning to return to Ottawa. It’s hard for me to believe that a year ago this morning, I was also boarding a plane with Daniel Harris. January 8, 2010, we were comparing passport mug shots with Alana and Marcus, on our way to unknown adventures in Singapore, Nepal, the Philippines and (for me) Indonesia.
Over thirty hours of travel to Singapore was just the beginning of good discussions and revealing situations that helped me to get to know this guy a little more.



It’s been a good year.

We’re celebrating our five month anniversary … preparing to hit the books on Monday … looking forward to the next four months at Augustine … and excited where prayers and ideas will lead us to be next January 8!

Not Only with our Lips, But in our Lives

Almighty God, Father of all mercies,
we thine unworthy servants do give thee
most humble and hearty thanks
for all thy goodness
and loving-kindness to us and to all men.

We bless thee for our creation, preservation,

and all the blessings of this life;

but above all for thine inestimable love in the

redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ;

for the means of grace, and for the hope of glory.

And we bessech thee, give us that due sense of all thy mercies,

that our hearts may be unfeignedly thankful,

and that we show forth thy praise,

not only with our lips, but in our lives;

by giving up ourselves to thy serice,

and by walking before thee in holiness

and righteousness all our days;

through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom, with thee

and the Holy Ghost, be all honour and glory, world without end.

Amen.

A Story of Us

"We Fell in Love"

It would appear that the author of Caffé Latte con Amor has been with more occupied with “caffé latte,” “amor,” or some other pastime outside of blogging. That’s a true story. And I suppose the following has more to do with love than lattes, so be warned.

In the words of my brother regarding his own love story…

“We met.”

“We fell in love.”

“We got married.”
Between meeting and falling in love, Daniel and I enjoyed many years of friendship. I’m not interested in posting the few “friends-and-not-at-all-in-love” pictures of that time period, and I assure you that you’re not interested in seeing them.

The events of the past year--particularly the last six months--have been such a surprise to me that words like beautiful, miraculous and surreal are inadequate to describe them. I have received gifts of experiences, friendships, lessons and love that I did not anticipate and that I do not deserve.

I opened my journal recently and noticed a comment from January 1 of this year. I had written something like, "I wish I knew what would fill the pages of this upcoming year..."

I'm glad I didn't. I think I would still be hiding under my bed. :)

Someties I'm so impatient during waiting times to discover "what's next." But over and over, in retrospect, I'm amazed and grateful at the timing God graciously allows. However unexpected, the events of the past six or eight months were perfectly orchestrated and overwhelmingly peaceful.

On this 34th day of "happily ever after," I shall close for now and save more updating for later.

Signed, a happy wife in Canada.

Dashed Dreams, No Answers

“Do you feel like you’re seeing—living—‘Same Kind of Different than Me’ every Monday?” the pregnancy center director asked me. “We have the same deal here as that story … and it could be you.”

Yes, it could be.

I fill out the forms and follow protocol. But notes on the form tell facts, not the story of a life. I hear the stories of dashed dreams. I talk with many girls my age and younger who have already experienced a divorce. Eyes speak what could never be told with words: fear. Rejection. Disillusionment. Sometimes the nonchalant gestures and confident explanations try to stretch a band-aid over the raw wound. Unbidden tears spill as they tell pieces of their brokenness.

Today, it was my tears … at hearing how this song verbalized the prayer of my heart.

Little girl twenty-one, the things that you've already done

Anything to get ahead

And you say you've got a man, but he's got another plan

Only wants what you will do instead

Well little girl twenty-one, you never thought that this would come

You starve yourself to play the part

But I can promise you there's a man whose love is true

And he'll treat you like the jewel you are

So turn around, you're not too far

To back away, be who you are

To change your path, go another way

It's not too late, you can be saved

If you feel depressed with past regrets

The shameful nights hope to forget

Can disappear they can all be washed away

By the One who's strong can right your wrongs

Can rid your fears, dry all your tears

And change the way you look at this big world

He will take your dark distorted view

And with His light He will show you truth

And again you'll see through the eyes of a little girl

There could never be a more beautiful you

Don't buy the lies, disguises and hoops they make you jump through

You were made to fill a purpose that only you could do

So there could never be a more beautiful you

“With His light He will show you truth.” There is no single answer to the 15-year-old reeling, at seeing those double pink lines. There is no single answer for the 17-year-old who thinks the next man will fulfill her dreams. There is no single answer for the 21-year-old, overwhelmed with the responsibility of supporting her two toddlers alone. There is no single answer for the 23-year-old who sees abortion as the only option.

The stories—the hurt, the complications, the fear—are beyond me. What I saw and heard last week, sitting across from beautiful girls, overwhelmed me. Their need does not overwhelm our Father, though. And while there are no single answers to the years of decisions, the myriad factors and the built up pain, there is ultimately hope only through Christ.

I pray that my few words can express Christ’s compassion. I pray that His truth would be spoken in love here, even when it’s rejected. I pray that “little girl twenty-one” can experience the same forgiveness I have, and someday testify to the power of God transforming her heart and life. I pray that our Father would be glorified here by the compassion, listening ears, truth spoken, needs met—His love reaching out.

Challenge ... Report

In January, I joined a challenge to read the Bible in six months. April 1st marked the halfway point on the calendar, but I’m just now giving a reading update. I should be on about Day 100 … and I’m not. I have to agree with Kaylene's post earlier this week; I don't have legitimate reasons to fall behind! So the technical report is that I'm about twenty days behind schedule.

That said (i.e. what I haven't read), here's the good news (i.e. what I have read)!

For the first time, I'm reading the Bible chronologically. There's no perfect, historically-accurate list, but this new order has really challenged my thinking. For example, I can tell you the books of the Bible that Solomon wrote. But it's given me a different perspective to actually read Proverbs and Song of Solomon while I'm also reading 1 Kings and 2nd Chronicles. It's helped me see the stories in context and realize how deeply parts of the Bible are interwoven.

I'm looking forward to reading about the kings of Israel and Judah ... with the minor prophets sprinkled around in the right spots. I've never been able to connect those very well.

I intend to catch up, and look forward to doing so! My friend Marcus gives some encouragement about catching up, finishing well, and learning willingly in his post Success in Failure.

Reign

You thought of us before the world began to breathe

You knew our names before we came to be

You saw the very day we fall away from You

And how desperately we need to be redeemed

Lord Jesus, come lead us,

We're desperate for Your touch

Oh great and mighty One,

With one desire we come

That You would reign,

That You would reign in us;

We're offering up our lives

A living sacrifice

That You would reign,

That You would reign in us.

Spirit of the living God fall fresh again

Come search our hearts and purify our lives

We need Your perfect love, we need Your discipline;

We're lost unless You guide us with Your light.

We cry out for Your life to revive us,

Cry out for Your love to define us,

Cry out for Your mercy to keep us

Blameless until You return.

Lord Jesus, come lead us,

We're desperate for Your touch

Oh great and mighty One,

With one desire we come

That You would reign,

That You would reign in us;

We're offering up our lives

A living sacrifice

That You would reign,

That You would reign in us.

So reign, please reign in us

Come purify our hearts

We need Your touch

Come cleanse us like a flood

And send us out

So the world may know You reign, You reign in us.

- Starfield

Three Hours Downtown

June 2008: My team's flight landed in Jakarta. We were warned how different it would be from Malaysia and Singapore. We were cautioned about the religious conflict, about the poverty, about the resistence to Westerners. Security, safety, modesty, discretion.

I remember leaving the airport and being awed by the insane traffic and honking. I remember noticing all the trash; it was so dirty.

But I especially remember my first impressions being of the street children. Stuck in traffic, our vehicle sat near an intersection and I stared out the window into the eyes of children. They were barefoot. Their hair was dirty and tangled. The clothes hung off their shoulders. They weaved in and out of traffic, holding out a little bag, begging for money.

Traffic moved and my heart froze to see toddlers, inches from whizzing mopeds. Little children stood in the middle of traffic, unphased. I was speechless; this was Indonesia.

During the next days in Jakarta and Surabaya, and during my next visit in 2009, I gained many more impressions of the country. I fell in love with the people.

My last few posts have been a glimpse at a dream come true. Living with amazing Indonesian children and building relationships with them was beyond wonderful to me.

A friend of one of the orphanage staff members invited me to join her at a school held for street children. Immediately my first memories of Indonesia flashed through my mind: I saw that little girl barefoot, standing in the middle of traffic. I was both eager and apprehensive to visit the school. I knew the kids at the orphanage well; I knew their personalities, their strengths and weaknesses. I knew some about their families. I knew some of their dreams.

Somehow I couldn't associate that kind of interaction with what I had seen of street children. I remembered their emotionless faces, their subdued eyes.


And then we arrived, central Jakarta. We got out of the taxi in the middle of the road and crossed a busy highway. Train tracks, bridge, overpass, intersections, heaps of trash, and a nasty, rushing river.


In February 2009, this school began on a Sunday afternoon with several Indonesian teachers and about fifteen kids. A year later, as the small team of teachers walked down the strip between the railroad and the river, children began flocking to us from the street. Over eighty children gathered for a couple hours of "school."


They stared at me, wide-eyed at my fair skin. I smiled back and sat down beside a couple of them. "Nama saya Laura ... siapa nama kamu?"


Suddenly I realized that "Jakarta street children" are not a genre of people. They are individuals.


They have names. They have parents--whether they're in their life or not. They have siblings.


They have strengths and weaknesses. They have natural talents and abilities. They have great personalities.


They are beautiful, and every one of them is unique and perfect.


After the whole group sang a couple songs together, the children split into five groups, by age. Under the trees, five canvas mats were spread. Whiteboards were propped up against the trees. The children were given notebooks and pencils.


The next couple hours were spent on math problems, learning about nature and plants, and practicing English alaphabet and vocabulary words. The children were so, so excited to learn.


Around 30% of them, I was told, attend school sporadically.


Many of them lived under the nearby bridge. When the dam down the river was recently opened to release water, their families had to move because the river was so high. For the next few weeks, many of the children were sick and couldn't come to the Sunday street school. Many of the ones who did come had bad skin rashes or were sick from all the bacteria in the water.


After the children said good-bye, the team of teachers had a short meeting to review how many children attended each class, what they taught, what they observed, and to make plans for the future.


They have a big vision for impacting these children's lives and futures. They're recognizing what I had failed to see: the unique design of individual children, and the potential they have. Instead of being overwhelmed by the massive need, they actually pursued change. Instead of being frustrated by the limited time they have, they're making the most of every minute.


After the meeting, we gathered up the few school supplies and walked back to the nearby highway. The brown water gushed downriver beside us. We walked past heaps of garbage and tiny shacks ... homes. Across the highway, we saw several of the children who had just left school. They were holding their bags. They were begging.

I can't put my feelings at that moment into words. I couldn't comprehend the reality of their daily lives. They yelled, smiling and waving. The teachers waved back. They called them by name.

I was no longer seeing emotionless, hopeless, nameless faces, all in the category of "street children." I had touched them, sang with them, talked to them, taught them, stared into their stunning eyes, and laughed as they laughed. They were individuals, created in the image of God. They have value and potential. They were created for a purpose in life.

It's easier to ignore realities that make me uncomfortable. It was easy to toss that stark memory into a pile of third-world Indonesian facts. But it's better--although painful, humbling and stretching--to come face-to-face with reality. It's good to realize that my first and selfish tendency is to push away others' individual needs, to focus on myself and my own needs and feelings.

...

I'm grateful God would give me another chance -- to allow Him to change my heart as I held the hand of a little girl. I want to embrace His compassion for others instead of defaulting to my first impressions and assumptions.

Happy Days in Cibubur, Jakarta Timur

It's been another wonderful week.


It included some sweet friends coming for a visit!


Three of the boys with the three university students who live here...


Last Sunday we toured some beautiful botanical gardens. The children loved learning more about plants.

We also got to enjoy lots of delicious, fresh fruit!

They were fascinated by the lab...

I'm going to miss these guys.

In the Eye of the Beholder

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Every day here, I see beauty. Perspective is a funny thing. I walk down the street and love everything I'm seeing ... and suddenly notice all the trash. But it doesn't matter.

Lita

Rina

Ana

Natalis

Sweaty guys in my lap makes me so happy. Little critters in sweet girls' hair doesn't make me want to braid their hair any less.

Uli

Sri

And God's teaching me to pray when the language barrier keeps me from asking the questions or saying the things I wish I could say. How much greater for His Spirit to change a heart than for me to say what I'm thinking.

Robi

I can't describe just how beautiful I think these precious children are. And yet, on a regular basis, they stroke my hair, touch my skin, and say, "Beautiful sister." Their smiles melt me.

Warta

Biknel

Since beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I've been wondering just how God is seeing things. My perspective can change according to circumstances, but God's view is perfect--He created everything He's viewing.

Delvi and Sona

I've been praying to see through God's eyes. I want to not only see the beauty that delights my heart, but also be willing to see the need and respond sacrificially. I want to see the deep hurts and respond with Christ's compassion.

Lingkupiku Dengan Sayap-Mu

Last week, my brain was full of new words, new names, new schedules, new experiences.

This week, it seems so normal, so routine, like I’ve been here forever. Not routine in the boring sense of the word—there’s never a quiet moment! It’s a “settled,” peaceful norm, of loving living here.

Speaking of peaceful norm, here is Sona with one of the cute guys that lives around here. His small presence contributes to excellent focus during homework study (not!).

The children attend different schools, and thus are on different schedules.

About 15-20 of them leave at 6am. About a dozen leave right before noon, and the rest leave at 1-1:30.

This means that at any given time, there is lots of activity, homework, chores, and adventures!

I help some of the older kids with English homework, and some of the younger ones with math homework.

When you hit fraction division problems, it’s probably time to stop doing multiplication on your fingers. So this week, I made multiplication flash cards for several kids. They’ll put forth so much effort to please me!

As they’ve learned their multiplication tables better, and fly through the flashcards, I’m learning too … to listen to fast Indonesian numbers!

This summer, a friend asked me if I knew the song “Still” and played it for me. I had never heard it, but liked it. I actually sang it the first time (in English) at a drug rehab center here in Jakarta, last June. I loved Indonesia so much, but never dreamed that I would be back seven months later, singing that beautiful song. So my new favorite song is in Indonesian …

Lingkupiku dengan sayap-Mu

Naungiku dengan kuasa-Mu.

Disaat badai bergelora

Kuakan terbang bersama-Mu,

Bapa Kau Raja atas mesta

Kutenang sbab Kau Allah ku.

Hide me now, under Your wings
Cover me, within Your mighty hand;
When the oceans rise and thunders roar

I will soar with You, above the storm,

Father, You are King over the flood.

I will be still and know You are God.