“Death has been swallowed up in victory.”

It's a rainy cold day here in the land of the black mountains.

Last week I was trying to find potted herb plants for the windowsill because i am basically a hobbit, and find great joy in growing things. So after successfully finding basil, lavender and rosemary, I notice fresh cut parsley was in great abundance at the open market. Me and Jesse spent about 5 minuets trying to ask a woman if they sold live parsley plants using words like 'ground' 'big' and acting out the most absurd things. I am pretty sure they were completely confused. They did hand eventually hand us a parsley with the bare root still attached, it was dead, it was obvious the root is used for cooking something. 

So we bought it anyways. 20 cent for their 10 minutes of trying to understand the crazy foreigners. When I got home, I don't know any recipes that call for parsley root, so we laughed and stuck the dead root in the soil anyways. 

This rainy cold morning I noticed the brightest green fresh leaves amidst the yellow straw like shoots. 

It was beautiful; not the power of nature, but the power of God. A stunning reminder of my position before the father. I am full of self, dead, dried out, and useless. He is fresh and faithful every new morning. He brings the dead to life, he awakens our comma like souls, He alone has victory over death.

“Death has been swallowed up in victory.”

Two Months: Jesse's Reflections

When Andrea and I visited with you all sharing about our future endeavor, we had more than a few people think we were crazy at the thought of taking a two year old and a newborn overseas.  Although those of you who are parents of two or more children had a better idea what we were getting ourselves into, we just smiled and nodded.  

Someone asked me at that time if I could describe my life in a picture, what would it look like.  I described a path leading into the woods just before the dawn. The sun was beginning to peak over the mountains but had yet to illuminate the wood, leaving it still in darkness.  I feel conflicting emotions as I was about to take a step into those woods.  On the one hand: fear.  Not the kind of fear that you might be eaten by wolves, but the subtle fear that comes from the unknown and the mysterious, not knowing exactly where this path leads when I have my wife by my side and two kids on our backs.  On the other hand: thrill, knowing that soon the sun will surely rise and light up the forest and the path and that this path will lead us past beauty that we would not have known otherwise.  Can you picture it?

At that time, we didn't know what we were in for, but we did know two things.  1) That God had called us.  Any of you who have ever been called by God to some undertaking, whether it be to start a ministry, a different career path, or just to spend time with someone who was lonely, you know that to not answer the call would mean at best a feeling of regret and wondering "what might have been if I were faithful" and at worst a failure to fulfill the calling to which we were created.  God called, so we responded.  And 2) that God is faithful to those who are called according to His purpose.  Remembering this part was a little more difficult.  Answering the call takes faith, true, but it takes greater faith when you step out of the boat and see the wind and the waves and remember that God is faithful.  This moment came to us about 5 hours into our 10.5 hour flight to Europe when Soren was flailing around in Andrea's arms screaming "Mommy!  Mommy! Mommy!" as she was trying to constrain him so he would fall asleep.  Andrea was crying too and we just looked at each other thinking, "What in the world are we doing?"

After two very difficult weeks of training in Holland, here we are, several months later, living in a strange place that we now call home and we realize that its true: we are crazy.  Life would be difficult with a two year-old and a newborn in the states but here it is even more difficult.  Xander was sick and we could not find the things we knew would make him better, we don't know how to talk to anybody at the grocery store, and we were trying to buy a car in a dishonest culture who would love nothing more that to rip off foreigners.  But in light of all that, something else is true as well: GOD IS FAITHFUL.  Xander got better with the help of some other American missionaries who have been living here awhile, we got an amazing car that was exactly what we were looking for with the help of some local friends, and we've learned to laugh as we eat the mystery meat we bought at the grocery store.  He has given us many  blessings, like so much natural beauty untouched by human hands on our doorstep, a little baby who smiles at us every time we look at him, and of course, new friends.  I love languages and would sometime study them as a hobby, so for me learning the language is as fun as it is practical.  We have a beautiful home and get along so well with our co-workers.  We are quickly making friendships with local believers and we love the community mentality of this part of the world.  All in all, we are very happy here.  This happiness is brought on by enjoying God's blessings.  But I have to admit, it's more than happiness, deeper.  It's joy and peace.  A joy and a peace that comes from a deep sense of fulfillment in what God has called us to.  I was meant for this.

Who Am I?

A lot of people don't know this, but when a girl, i was actually shy, timid and quite fearful. My mom says that around the age of eleven, almost overnight I became brave and confident, and it has been that way since.

Now I find myself in this completely alien culture and there is a bit of a lost feeling. From the moment I was born I have picked up millions of cues about the culture around me about how to express myself to those around me. Subtle things like posture, facial expressions, and the colors you choose to wear all mean something in your community and culture around you.

Now, at the age of 26, I have hit the reset button. I am reduced to an infant. I don't know how to communicate anything verbally, or even worse non verbally. If you ask me who I am I would genuinely tell you I am creative, intelligent and confident. It hit me my first day here...I have no reference of how to communicate those aspect of myself to those around me. What I project as creative in America, could look normal, or even quirky in Montenegro. Even confidence will look different here. If I smile at people while on a walk, they think I am making fun of them, If i compliment someone's child, i am bringing a curse on them. If everyone around you perceives your actions differently that what you intend, friendly, confident, artistic,  after a while are you really still that person?

I the midst of an overwhelmingly lost feeling, I can find my anchor in who my maker says that I am...loved, cherished, redeemed and beautiful.  With Christ I walk boldly, knowing he is guiding my steps. He has given me identity cannot be lost, stolen, misunderstood or misplaced, it is simply truth. The anchor of the cross binds me to grace that bears peace that transcends space, time, perceptions, or circumstances.