Let me tell you a story.

This is not a happy story. Many stories I came to hear were not happy stories. But it is a true story. A real story. It is the story of a woman named Maya.

Maya was orphaned from a young age. Her father died when she was 7, and her mother when she was 9. Alone in this world at the age of 12 she knew something was not right with her. Her toes were swelling and she had blisters.  Never having left her village and having no one to care for her needs, Maya did not know what to call the ailments she was experiencing. She began losing sensation in her hands and feet. None of her relatives (She has 3 married brothers.) or village people cared enough to bring her anywhere for help, much less even tell her help existed in the world. But even still she was in a "good" set-up. Most people would recognize her ailments as leprosy and shun her, or alienate her from the community. But her "good" neighbors recognized that she could be useful, she could watch their children and keep their livestock while they were working or planting. So they took the necessary precautions to keep her alive, they would occasionally give her food or old rags for clothing. In tears she shared this with me. She shared the deep, abiding pain of knowing that she was only alive because she could be used. Hot tears began falling from my own eyes as she continued. 

Forty-seven years she lived like this. Never knowing she had leprosy, only that over time she could no longer straighten her fingers, or lift her foot to take a proper step. Finally the leprosy had so deteriorated her feet and bones that she could no longer walk. For nearly seven years she remained in her village crawling on her hands, ulcers forming on her knees and the tops of her feet. 

Marriage was never an option. Children were never an option. Love was never an option. Life consisted only of staying alive. But about 2 months ago a government campaign group came to her village. They like to visit the villages during election years to "gain new constituents" if you would. It's simple really, they give you citizenship, then you vote for them. Amazing how that works. Anyway, at this point they found Maya and worked for 3 weeks getting her citizenship. They told her about Anandaban Hospital, about hospitals in general. Until now she did not know that hospitals even existed. 

Two weeks after gaining citizenship Maya made her way to Anandaban Hospital. 4 hours walking and then an 8 hour bus ride. "Not very far, there are just no roads," she said. So close for all these years. Blind in her left eye, no hands, no feet, and crawling on weak calloused, ulcer infected knees, she came. Fifty-eight years old, she came. 

"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

Hearing Maya's story was very hard for me. It doesn't have a "happy" ending. She made it to the hospital, this alone makes her one of the "lucky" ones. She is having shoes made, and may be able to walk. She now has knee pads*. She began treatment so the leprosy will  no longer be growing. Knowing this didn't make me feel any better. It didn't make the tears any less bitter.

 Leprosy doesn't have a "pretty" face. There isn't poster child for leprosy that you can broadcast to gain tons of support and start a social justice movement. Helping a "leper" may not seem quite as glamorous as rescuing a young teenage girl from the sex trade, or wearing "RED" to help with the fight against AIDS. There isn't a simple quick fix. It takes months of treatment, often times surgery, and training for a lifetime of self-care to even touch the surface of what these people need. Not many people want to sign-up for that. Not many people want to address the shame, fear, and humiliation these people have dealt with for a lifetime. Not many want to invest into someone who is often past their "prime" in life. It's not easy.

Guni Maya

Even just hearing Maya's story left me very heavy. I had to take this to Christ. He had to show me that yes, her life, her story is a weighty one. But it is that very fact that I needed to see. She is valuable to Him. She carries weight , she means something. And not just something, but everything to Him. He loves her. He longs for her to come to Him, to find rest in Him.

After sharing her story with me the only words I could find were, "Tell her she is beautiful. She is so beautiful to me." With tears in my eyes and the biggest smile I could offer I watched as these simple words were translated to her. Smiling she returned my gaze and shrank back in shyness. In earnest to make her know the truth of these words, I placed my hand on her knee and affirmed in my juvenile Nepali, "Deri ramro, deri ramro." ("Very beautiful, very beautiful.") She looked up and smiled.

 My prayer for Maya is this, that as she came to Anandaban, she also would come to Christ. That the refuge she found in the hospital would be just a glimpse of the refuge she may find in Christ. That she would find rest not just for her body but for her soul. That she would know the deep, abiding love of our Father.

*Imagine just for a moment what it takes to put on knee pads with no hands. There is no thumb to pinch the elastic to stretch it for a snug fit. It takes both "hands" to even get the elastic around her leg much less awkwardly "pull" it tight enough for it to even stay for 5 minutes. Imagine the effort to brush your hair. (Putting it in a ponytail by yourself is not even an option.) It's just easier not to get undressed than to dress every morning. 

Hmm...and I want to go down there for April?

Fox News:


Soldiers stand guard around a presentation of arms captured in arrest of Jaime Gonzalez Duran, alias 'El Hummer' in Mexico City in November, 2008.

They were armed to the teeth. Their arsenal ranged
from semi-automatic rifles to rocket-propelled grenades. When the smoke finally
cleared and the government had prevailed, Mexican federal agents captured 540
assault rifles, more than 500,000 rounds of ammunition, 150 grenades, 14
cartridges of dynamite, 98 fragmentation grenades, 67 bulletproof vests, seven
Barrett .50-caliber sniper rifles and a Light Anti Tank (LAW) rocket.

CBS: Mexican Drug Gang Goes On Killing Spree

A drug gang kidnapped and
killed six people near a town in the U.S.-Mexican border region Tuesday,
prompting a series of gunbattles with soldiers that left 15 others dead. The
violence started when gunmen kidnapped nine alleged members of a rival drug gang
in Villa Ahumada and later executed six of them along the PanAmerican highway
outside of the town, 80 miles south of Ciudad Juarez, across the border from El
Paso, Texas, said Enrique Torres, spokesman for a joint military-police
operation in Chihuahua state. Assailants later released three of the men,
although their whereabouts was not immediately known, Torres said. Soldiers
later caught up with the gunmen and a series of shootouts ensued, leaving 14
alleged gunmen and one soldier dead Tuesday, Torres said. Another soldier was
wounded. Mexico's has been besieged by drug violence amid a two-year government
crackdown. President Felipe Calderon said Monday that more than 6,000 people
have died in drug-related violence. Villa Ahumada, a town of 1,500 people, was
virtually taken over by drug gangs last year when gangs killed two consecutive
police chiefs, and two officers. The rest of the 20-member force resigned in
fear, forcing the Mexican military to take over for months until the town was
able to recruit new officers. The town's mayor, Fidel Chavez, fled to the state
capital for his own safety.

Times: Mexican Man Admits Using Acid on Bodies, Army Says

MEXICO CITY — Pozole is a popular Mexican stew that can feature
pork, hominy and an array of vegetables and seasonings. But the name of the
delicacy has taken on a sinister new meaning: Mexican authorities have detained
a man linked to hundreds of deaths in the drug war who is being called the
Pozole Maker.
The man, Santiago Meza López, known as “el Pozolero” in the
Mexican news media, has confessed to dissolving the remains of 300 people in
acid while working for a top drug trafficker, the Mexican Army said Friday.
Dissolving bodies is gaining increasing popularity in the internecine killings
between rival traffickers that is playing out here, and the practice has become
known as making pozole (pronounced poh-ZOH-leh).
Mr. Meza, 45, confessed to
receiving $600 a week to dispose of bodies for Teodoro García Simental, a drug
kingpin who broke with the Tijuana-based Arellano Félix cartel and is said to be
at war with Fernando Sánchez Arellano, his former boss, the authorities said.
Soldiers and police officers paraded Mr. Meza before reporters on Friday in
a remote area on the outskirts of Tijuana, where he was accused of dumping
bodies into pits over the last decade, pouring acid on them and letting them
dissolve underground.
Mr. Meza admitted as much as the authorities
surrounded him and ordered him to speak up to the press. “I ask for forgiveness
from the families of these people,” he said, according to the newspaper Reforma.
In September, the police found three barrels of acid containing human
remains outside a seafood restaurant with a note attached that said, “We’re
going to make pozole” of those who work with the engineer, a reference to Mr.
Sánchez Arellano’s nickname.
The authorities suspect that Mr. García is
behind those killings and others in which mutilated bodies have turned up on
Tijuana’s streets. The military nearly arrested Mr. García on Thursday,
officials said.

I think I will be praying quite earnestly about this trip!

I like all of the verses to the hymn "Jesus Loves Me"

Ok, so I know I didn't make much sense in house church this past sunday, and so I will be trying to organize all my thoughts and what I tried to express in a way the may actually be understandable as a reflection of what God has been doing in my heart, rather than the mumbled mess that was not so well conveyed. 

But for now, here are a few quotes from Revolution by George Barna. It's stuff we already know, but I liked the way he presented it in straightforward succinct manner. 

"Believers will not have an institution such as the local church to use a a crutch or excuse for wimpy faith. Each Revolutionary consents to be personally responsible for his or her spiritual state--whether that's growth or stagnation" Pg. 104

"Christians who are involved in local churches are actually less likely than Revolutionaries to lead a biblical lifestyle." Pg. 115 

"Compared to the 'average' Christian I encounter in our national surveys, I estimate that the 'average' Revolutionary is substantially more Spirit-led, faith-focused, scripturally literate, and biblically obedient than their more traditional counterparts who are embedded within a congregation." Pg. 116

P.S.- If you don't already know them, click on the title (or here) to see all of the lyrics to "Jesus Loves Me" and click here to see Jennifer Knapps version.

My theatre professor said she likes house church, so I figured I would tell her more about it...

An assingment this week in theatre was this:

Choose any familiar space where people gather. Discuss the dynamics involved in how people move in this space, how they address one another, and how the experience allows for any sort of communal engagement.

And I answered it like this:

Text below includes a bit of commentary that is in orange.

When asked to name a familiar place where people gather, the first place that comes to mind is Bob’s house. Every Sunday morning, and even during the week, multiple people gather there to discuss what God has shown us in our time with Him. This is where we, the Church, meaning the people who make up the body of Christ - not a building, meet. Bob’s house is not huge, but it holds the 10-15 of us who comprise this house church. We move and function rather like a family in a house does. At any time I could go grab a bit to eat out of the fridge ( It's not like it's not on the counter waiting for me to snatch a piece), or hop on the computer to “Google” something ( or get Bob or Beege to look up what the thorax of a monkey is so that I can continue to make my stinkin' note cards) , just like a member of the household. I may even go pick up the living room. ( Not that Mrs. Sharon keeps a messy house, just that all us cold people like to drag out every blanket ever made and then leave them all over the place with our pillows)I address everyone as if they were my family (essentially we are family in Christ), and they address me like-wise. People gather in the living room, kitchen, or around the table and just “hang-out” until everyone gets there. Then around 10:30am (if we are lucky) everybody goes into one room to collectively talk about all that God has shown us. It’s not any formal meeting with one person talking the whole time telling you how to be a Christian; it is the body of Christ communing. Here there is no “head-honcho”; there is no child, simply Saints. Every person has the exact same opportunity to hear from God as a “pastor” or “preacher” does. And in the house, everyone can share the revelation from God that they have received. Or they can share the verse that has made the difference in how their week has gone, or simply how they have been changed to be more like Christ that week. There is no one person who is too young to speak, some house churches have 4 and 5 year olds that bring a Word from the Lord that revolutionizes the way that we see things. If you have a question, you ask it. If you have a Word, you speak it. If you have a song, you sing it. No one is spoken down to and no one is demeaned. Everyone is there to uplift and exhort the body of Christ, even in a gentle rebuke. This is the “communal engagement”. ( Just so you know, the term "communal engagement" was how my Anth. teacher described the gathering on monkeys, and now that I have related that term to house church, I automatically picture us as the gathering of a bunch of monkeys).The entire lifestyle of the Saints is a “communal engagement”. Think about it like the human body. Each part of the body is in constant communion with the rest of the body. Each part works together in harmony (communion) to function; the heart, lungs, hands and feet all have their role, and if they don’t fulfill that role then the entire body is hindered and can’t function as it was designed to. The arm simply cannot pop off and decide not to function for a day, it must fulfill its role every moment of every day. If it did pop off, then the blood would not be able to get to it, and it would eventually loose everything that made it alive. Like-wise, a member of the body if Christ must be in constant communion with Christ, and His people. I cannot cease to function without hindering the rest of the body of Christ. And choosing not to function would mean that the blood of, which gives me life, would no longer be able to flow in and through me. The gathering of the Saints is the communal engagement, and it just happens to be at Bob’s house.




Oh, and this is my official 200th post. I didn't want that last goofy thing to be my real 200th post, not that this is much better, but still...

Some things I have been thinking about

"I can give you one simple reason why we don't have revival in America. Because we're content to live without it. We're not seeking God - we're seeking miracles, we're seeking big crusades, we're seeking blessings. In Numbers 11, Moses said to God, 'You're asking me to carry a burden I can't handle. Do something or kill me!' Do you love America enough to say, 'God, send revival or kill me'? Do you think it's time we changed Patrick Henry's prayer from, 'Give me liberty or give me death,' to 'Give me revival or let me die'? "*

~ Len. Ravenhill

America is so absorbed in self: self-help, self-esteem, self-respect...pretty much self-worship. We don't seem to care about the 30,000 children that are dying EVERY DAY from preventable causes!!!! (starvation being the main cause) Yeah, I am talking about the approximately three that have died since you started reading this post. But we can drink our 5 dollar coffee; we can pay our tithe every Sunday to help build a new multi-million dollar sanctuary. We can pray for the orphans, but send no relief. We can put on a mask of being good "Christians" and knowing a lot of bible verses, but we still have the same unchanged heart that we had when we first claimed to have "gotten saved". And we schedule our annual "Revival" where we rent a tent and serve food to draw the people in. Maybe 10-50 people will come up and "give their life to the Lord", only to follow the example of all the other "Christians" in the church who read their bible once a week, then go to a building every Sunday to get "feed" the word of God. If you can call it food, it is more like watered down milk. This is not revival. It's not Christianity. This is hypocrisy. It is being lukewarm. It is is vomit. (Rev. 3 :16)

The beginning of the Great New Hebrides Revival in Scotland came when a young man stood before the church and held up his hands, asking how could God bless him with dirty hands. He kept asking if his hands were clean before God. The young man kept quoting Psalm 24:3-4,

"Who shall ascend into the hill of the LORD? or who shall stand in his holy place? He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart."

A great revival broke out where Duncan Campbell preached, and almost the entire island was saved. Revival started because one teenage boy got up to said a prayer, and didn't stop until he poured out his heart. And all who were around were convicted and convinced that they must have clean hands and a pure heart. (1 Cor. 14:24) One prayer that was led by the Holy Spirit changed a town for centuries.

Whether the town was going to follow or not, that young man knew personal revival that day. He knew that he had to have clean hands and a pure heart. That spark lead to a country-wide revival. Revival is when we count the cost. It is forsaking all we have in this world and following hard after Christ. (Matt. 19:21/Mark 10:21)It is visiting the widows and orphans. It is staying unspotted from the world. (James 1:27)

So why don't we pray like that? Why don't our hearts ache for the lost? Why are we content to let Americas Christianity be sitting in a pew every Sunday? Why aren't we sharing in the sufferings of Christ? Why is it that the religious leaders of Jesus' day hated Him and killed Him, be we are content to sit under the same sort of religious leaders every Sunday? Why are we not on our faces every day and night crying out to God for Revival?

Maybe we don't pray because our hands aren't clean and our hearts aren't pure? Maybe our hearts don't ache for the lost, because our heart is too consumed with selfish desires to care about another persons soul? Maybe we sit in pews because that is tradition, and we are comfortable with that? Maybe we aren't sharing in the sufferings of Christ because we had to suffer enough this morning when we sat in 5 minutes of traffic in an air-conditioned car in the richest country in the world? Maybe we sit under the same religious leaders because we have itching ears and they tell us exactly what we want to hear ("oh, you believe in God, you gave your heart to Him, well then your saved, and He will give you love, joy, peace, and happiness. And I can't forget mustangs, mansions, and money!!! " Less popularly known as mammon!!)? Maybe we aren't crying out for Revival because we are content to live without it?

So, I must ask myself: Do I have clean hands? Do I have a pure heart? Am I unspotted from the world? Am I content to live without revival?

*Copyright (C)1994 by Leonard Ravenhill, Lindale, Texas