Testimony of God’s transforming power

Alan & Jeanne Lassiter, members of Summit Church, RDU area, NC, are wonderful testimony of God’s transforming power.  You will be blessed by the following video clip.  http://ht.ly/1TyHH

Her Big Brown Eyes …

“But God proves His own love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us!” (Romans 5:8, HCSB).

One of IMB’s young teens living overseas–her name is Meredith–wrote this poem and submitted it to IMB’s “Kids on Mission Pray” Web page ( http://kompray.imb.org ). Her words are powerful as they guide us to pray for children on the field, for the girl with the big brown eyes, and for all those who are longing to know God’s proven love.

Her big brown eyes . . .
she approaches you with a welcoming smile
a warm heart
casual looks just like anyone else
she seems pleasant
someone you would want to get to know
you sit down with her
and suddenly her eyes meet yours
it melts your heart at this awe full sight
her eyes are beautiful and charming
loving in so many ways
they sparkle and show potential
but at the same time
these eyes are lost
ones that have had it all taken away
these eyes search for hope
these eyes search for grace
these eyes are consumed by the flesh
her big brown eyes are dark
her big brown eyes search you
to see if you are what she is looking for
“will you show me love?”
“will you give me hope?”
you stare into her eyes not knowing how to respond
for if you reach out your hand to help
you could risk your life
for if you tell her of God’s love
there is a possibility for no tomorrow
you turn head but something draws you back towards them
God whispers to you
“This is what I have commanded you to do.”
“This is what I long for, this is what I desire.”
“For I will save this city
this country
and they will serve me forever more!
So go
for this is my mission in progress.
I love these people
they are my children.”
once more I lift my head up to see her eyes
her big brown eyes
that need the Lord.

The Pashai

” … and where the spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty (2 Corinthians 3:17, NASB)

By definition, history begins with written records.  For the 500,000 Pashai of Afghanistan, their history is just beginning.  As recently as July, 2003, their language finally took a written form.  The Pashai live in the mountains along the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan.  Many Pashai people are bilingual, speaking both Pashai and Pashto, the dominant language in eastern Afghanistan.  More than 80 percent cannot read in either language.  The Taliban prohibited speaking minority languages in public.  When the Taliban regime was defeated in 2001, the Pashai could again publicly speak their own language.  Decades of war and years of abusive rule by the Taliban took away their opportunity to attend school.  Now, for the first time, Pashai adults are learning to write in their heart language.

• O, Lord bring stability in the hard-to-access places where the Pashai live so that more teams can minister among them …
• Father, enable a new “Church-as-Strategy Coordinator partner to build on the work of others …
• Holy One, may believers emerge from among the Pashai so that Your church may be planted in their midst …

(Excerpt from IMB’s Loving the Lost of the World through Prayer 30-day Prayer Guide, order free at http://ow.ly/1pT0R .)

Softly he answered, “I am dying.”

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.  I will fear no evil,  for you are with me; your rod and staff, they comfort me.”  Psalm 23:4

The missionary stood by the bed of an emaciated man whom she had known for years.  He had been a leader in one of the Swazi Baptist churches.  His wife had died several months prior to this visit after being sick for a long time.  The missionary looked into his face that was devoid of expression.  Someone asked him how he was.  Softly he answered, “I am dying.”  It was just a matter of time when his suffering was over.

Many people in Swaziland are suffering from AIDS.  The battle rages as Swazis continue to live lives that spread the disease.  Their society is in trouble, and they find themselves being carried away into a vortex of suffering, shame, guilt and death.

Pray that Swazi people will understand that their lifestyles are causing premature deaths.  Ask the Holy Spirit to speak truth into their hearts.  Pray that they would discover the eternal peace and joy that is only available through faith in Christ Jesus.

Bummed Out!

I have to admit that I’m still a lot bummed out over Colt McCoy’s 1^st quarter injury during this year’s BCS National Championship football game.  I guess, like the rest of the Horns’ fans, I’ll always be haunted by the “what ifs” posed by his early departure from the game.  Since then I’ve watched his post-game interview with ESPN’s Lisa Salters at least a dozen times.  I’ve been impressed by his sincerity, his humility, his graciousness, but most of all, by the depth of his faith in God.  After choking back tears and congratulating Bama for their victory, he said, “I always give God the glory.  I never question why things happen the way they do.  God is in control of my life.  And, I know, if nothing else, I’m standing on the Rock.”  What a powerful statement! 

As Colt spoke, I immediately thought back to a conversation I had in The Netherlands when I heard a similar statement.  My wife and I were visiting a refugee center outside of Eindhoven with some of our IMB missionary personnel.  We met a young African woman, who had recently arrived from Sudan.  She invited us and our host missionaries into her white-washed college dormitory-style room—a single bed, a desk, a couple of wooden chairs and a small closet.   After a few minutes to warm up to each other, she began to share her story.  At one point she sadly mentioned an incident during which her husband was decapitated within a few feet of her grasp.  My heart leapt into my throat.  I couldn’t imagine anything more horrendous.  Spontaneously, I reached out to hold her hand.  I asked her how she was holding up.  She responded that she was OK and serenely added, “I’m standing on the Rock.” 

Standing on the Rock…  Standing on the Rock of her salvation, Jesus Christ…  Her life, just like Colt McCoy’s, is firmly grounded on the Rock of her faith, a faith that permits her to weather the inevitable storms of life.  I could rejoice over the fact that she was a Christian and was experiencing God’s sustaining touch, but at the same time I was tormented over the reality that literally thousands upon thousands of refugees were arriving in Western Europe who hadn’t ever heard of Jesus Christ, much less the eternal peace He offers.  This prompted me to make a major shift in the deployment of our missionaries throughout Western Europe.  Within a couple of years we went from a missionary presence of 250 working among indigenous Western Europeans, to over 450, among whom half were ministering to the burgeoning refugee population. 

Please pause today to lift up continuing ministry among refugees around the world.  Thank God for His children, who, at great personal sacrifice, have left the comforts of home and the security of family to respond to His call to offer a cup of water in His name, to share the Good News of Jesus Christ with those who’ve never experienced the librating truths of the Gospel.  Ask God to heal painful wounds and to prepare hearts to receive the seed of the Gospel.  Pray for your own personal sensitivity to the needs of refugees and immigrants, those who queue up with you at the check-out counter.  Perhaps God has a cup of water He would like for you to offer in His name.

To view Colt McCoy’s complete ESPN interview, click http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o5XdrLCftsY .

Bangla team rolling down river to pantoon plane Friday

Bangla team rolling down river to pantoon plane Friday

Praying for Haiti, 8

It is incredible to see the names of all the countries involved in aid to Haiti—Canada, Colombia, Chile, Cuba, France, Sri Lanka. The people of the world have truly been touched by the suffering and massive need. Southern Baptist relief groups, including the Florida Baptist Convention, North American Mission Board, International Mission Board, and Baptist Global Response, have been cooperating from the beginning and need our continued prayers. Assessment teams have brought their reports; and detailed plans are being established—four “strategically selected” medical teams will go to Haiti next week, traveling through the Dominican Republic. Two representatives from Florida will travel with them to make arrangements for trained disaster relief teams.

Sending boxes of aid supplies is relatively easy, but complications arise when customs and distribution and security matters are considered. In-country support and transportation for mission teams is extremely difficult due to the widespread damage. Access to airports and shipping docks remains highly restricted. Consider, as well, the need to be able to provide shelter for the volunteers themselves.

Give thanks for the spirit of cooperation and ask the Lord to bless these teams with long-suffering, kindness, and endurance. Pray now for the volunteer teams that will be going to Haiti over many, many months.

An Uncommon Day

Another one has come and gone. And, I’m not referring to Christmas or New Year’s Day, even though they both certainly came and went. My waistline testifies all too well to that fact! No, I’m referring to that other annual event – my birthday, December 27th. It seems that with each passing year, it becomes more and more of a non-event. Don’t get me wrong. Each year, I receive a few heartwarming cards and thoughtful gifts, as well as those precious telephone calls from my son and daughter. I guess what I’m talking about is the enchantment that once accompanied that special day.

As a child, I looked forward to it for weeks. I anticipated the decorated cake, glowing with candles, and all the ice cream I could eat. I labored over the wish I was going to make, never thinking for a second that its realization wasn’t mysteriously linked to the number of puffs I took to extinguish the burning candles. I agonized over which friends to invite to my party. I tore into the packages with a gusto comparable only to my run down the hall to see what Santa brought me on Christmas morning. You get the picture. It was one very exciting day!!!

Now, well, it’s just different. The magic is gone. I should say, “was” gone. This year was something very special. It fell on a Sunday. Like most Sundays, I was up early and got in a run before breakfast. Following my bowl of whole grain cereal, fortified with every vitamin known to man, I leisurely read the Sunday edition of the Richmond Times Dispatch while downing a large mug of steaming coffee. Then, off to church I went. Nothing out of the ordinary, a Sunday just like scores of Sundays I experience throughout the year. And then it happened.

I was driving home on Interstate 95, listening to Phil Simms’ NFL commentary on Fox Sports Radio when I was aroused from my reverie by the sights and sounds of a NASCAR event. The problem was that this wasn’t a radio broadcast or video feed; it was live and occurring all around me. A car ahead of me suddenly braked and spun into the median guardrail. It catapulted back into traffic and struck two approaching vehicles, which in turn slid left and right into other cars. Miraculously, I sped through the careening automobiles, crunching over glass and debris, and escaped the melee totally unscathed. That is, my car did; as for me, I thought I was going to have a heart attack! The cold sweats and racing heart didn’t subside for quite a while.

Yes, this was a totally uncommon birthday. What could have been a horrendous event for me personally became yet another testimony of God’s gracious mercy. I feel bad for the people whose cars were totaled (fortunately, no major injuries). However, I can’t help but be thankful that I was spared that agony on my special day. Was it chance? I choose to believe that it wasn’t. I truly believe God wanted to give me a special blessing to help me celebrate an uncommon day. I can’t wait to see what He has in store for me next year!

A Christmas Story…

It seems that every year each age group has its most sought-after gifts. Probably the hottest I remember in my lifetime was the Cabbage Patch Doll. Back in 1983, shoppers were literally tussling over them in the stores. Personally, I was never one to get caught up in having to have the latest, best, most popular gift at Christmas. That is, with the exception of 1965. I was a 9th grader at Jefferson Jr. High in Grand Prairie, TX. That was the year of the signet ring. It seems that everyone who was somebody either had one or was hoping to get one for Christmas. Since I definitely aspired to be counted among the somebodies, I dared to drop a few hints to my mother—cut out ads from jewelry store catalogues taped to her rearview mirror and such… You know, nothing really blatant.

In my family, Christmas Eve was reserved for the traditional festive meal, the reading of the Christmas story from Luke, and the opening of gifts from family and friends. The next morning we kids would awaken early and wait, and wait, and wait some more for our parents to wake up so that we could run into the living room and see what Santa had brought us. That particular year, I ran into the living room and looked for my gifts. I couldn’t find anything in my customary space. I looked at my mom and she pointed to the Christmas tree. I quickly spied a glittering gold ring affixed by a shiny red ribbon to one of the upper branches. Yea! I was going to be SOMEBODY!!!

One of the traditions of Christmas for me and my buddies was to spend most of the holidays hunting rabbits out in the Trinity River bottoms, located within a stone’s throw of my house. True to form, on the 26th, I was out with my best buds, Pat and Billy, for one of our hunting expeditions. By mid-afternoon, we had made it back to the house, skinned out a few rabbits, fried them up with a couple of pounds of potatoes and were feeling pretty good about ourselves. As we were slumped all over the furniture in a stuffed stupor, my thumb curled over to my ring finger but came up empty. I immediately realized that my new ring, with its glimmering diamond chip, was no longer in its place. I quickly ran into the kitchen to see if I had left it by the sink. Within a few minutes the living room and kitchen looked like they had been hit by a tornado—couch cushions on the floor, books and newspapers knocked off of tables, chairs turned every which way—no ring to be found. Pat and Billy thought I had gone completely berserk. They were right. I was going out of my mind. I had lost my ring, my treasure!!!

I sat down and thought back through the day. When was the last time I saw my ring? “Got it! It was when we were lying on the toll-road embankment solving the problems of the world.” I remembered taking off my ring and marveling at its beauty. After all, mine was a bit different from the black plastic finished ones that many of my friends wore. Mine had a Florentine finish, with the initial E etched right into the gold. And a real diamond was set in the top right. As far as I was concerned, it ranked right up there with the Crown Jewels.

In a flash, I was out of the house and running through the fields to the embankment. Since our bodies’ imprints were easily visible in the dormant grass, I knew exactly where I had been lying. I fell down on all fours and started racking my fingers through the grass and weeds. After several minutes of searching, I came up empty. I then tried to visualize myself there on the grass, twirling the ring. “Wait, I placed it on my chest and not back on my hand.” I jerked a coin out of my pocket, settled down in my body’s impression, lay the coin on my chest exactly where I had previously set my ring, stood up and “Ping.” The falling coin had struck my ring. Yeah! My lost treasure was found!

“Or suppose a woman who has ten silver coins loses one of them—what does she do? She lights a lamp, sweeps her house, and looks carefully everywhere until she finds it. When she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together, and says to them, ‘I am so happy I found the coin I lost. Let us celebrate!’ In the same way, I tell you, the angels of God rejoice over one sinner who repents.” Luke 15:1-10 TEV

Thank you, Lord, for the gift of your Son, Jesus Christ, and for the relationship we enjoy with You through our faith and trust in Him.

Epilogue: Unfortunately, less than a month later, someone stole my ring out of the Levis that I had left in the field house during one of our home basketball games.

Thoughts at Thanksgiving 2009

Living to Glorify Another Day…

A few months ago, a guest speaker in my church opened his message by saying, “I’m glad to be with you this morning; in fact, at my age, I’m glad to be anywhere!” This greeting predictably prompted laughter and sympathetic nods from the “graying” congregation. Even though I still have a few stray strands of dark hair left, I, too, strongly identified all too well with his comical statement. While the major points of his sermon have long escaped my memory (blame it on age), these few words continue to run through my mind. I guess it’s because they hit, oh, so close to home.

I can be sitting in my office at the IMB, get up to go to the computer printer, and before I’ve taken 5 steps, find myself heading off in another direction, return to my desk and wonder where the printed document is. Right turns instead of left ones on well-worn paths I’ve traveled are becoming more and more the norm. Yep, with my memory, “I’m glad to be anywhere.” But on a much deeper level, I’m truly glad to be anywhere. And, that is one of the things for which I’m so very thankful this Thanksgiving season. I’m simply thankful to be alive. I guess it’s quite normal to feel this way the older one becomes. With each passing year, an increasing number of people within my circle of friends and family pass away.

So far, I’ve been blessed with excellent health and with relatively few accidents, most of those while hunched over handlebars when out on training rides. The worst one occurred during the years I lived in France. I had just entered Bordeaux’s city limits and was barreling down a busy city street when the next thing I knew I was regaining consciousness on a hospital bed. Later, with the help of my horseback riding instructor and my wife, I was able to reconstruct what happened that afternoon.

Immediately after topping a hill, ducking my head and peddling rapidly down the road, I barreled into the rear of a city bus, which had just stopped to unload passengers. I picked myself up off the pavement, lifted my mangled racing bike onto my shoulder and stumbled a half-mile down the road to the Centre Hippique, where I used my riding instructor’s telephone to call my wife Debbie. While waiting for her to come pick me up, I described my accident to the instructor. To this day, I don’t remember any of that! At any rate, when Debbie and my daughter Jennifer arrived, I hoisted the bike onto the top of the car, locked it in place and fell into the right front seat. After the second or third time I had asked my wife the same question—“Whose leading tonight’s Bible study?—she deduced that something wasn’t quite right with me. Instead of stopping at our house on Rue Marceau, she kept right on going another 200 yards up the street to the Hospital Pellegrin. At some point along the way, I passed out completely.

Was I wearing a helmet? Nope! During the days before Greg Lemon and Lance Armstrong, all true cyclers wore flimsy “painter caps.” Rest assured that even before we coasted down the street from the hospital to our house, we drove straight to a cycling shop and bought what was by today’s standards an extremely antiquated egg-shaped helmet. Now I know just how football players feel when they’ve had their bell rung. They may walk around on the sideline, look someone in the eye and talk to them, but they could very well be in another world—in a very critical state of being. Most live to play another day; a few succumb to their injury. As for me, I obviously lived and continue to play many more days, but, just as easily, I could have died right then and there, behind a bus on Cours de la Liberation.

Yes, Lord, I’m very thankful for the gift of my life. I sincerely pray that You are glorified by what is left of it.

And, Father, I’m also very thankful for my family, especially for little Will’s safe arrival. May Your blessings be upon us all during this coming year…