If you are going on a short-term, cross-cultural trip, my admonition to you is that you set daily goals to learn the local language. My suggestion is that you try to learn one new word every day. Even if language learning is a huge difficulty for you, you will at least learn a few words. And what’s more important, you will communicate to your hosts that their culture is worthy of your efforts.

Lord Mountbatten was the British viceroy back then who oversaw the independence. He knew that the greatest threat was along the border of Eastern Pakistan, where the city of Calcutta is located—known to be the most violent city in Asia. Mountbatten pleaded with Gandhi, writes Phil Yancey, “to go to Calcutta and…somehow to work a miracle.”

Yancey writes about the miraculous event that happened next:

Gandhi consented only after a Muslim leader, one of the most corrupt politicians in Calcutta, agreed to live with him, unarmed, in one of Calcutta’s worst slums. If a single Hindu died at Muslim hands, Gandhi pledged, he would fast to death.

So it was that two days before India’s independence Mohandas Gandhi arrived at Kipling’s “City of Dreadful Night.” A large crowd awaited him as usual, but this one greeted him not with cheers but with shouts of anger. They were Hindus out for revenge, and to them Gandhi represented a capitulation to Muslim injustices. Hadn’t they seen relatives butchered and wives and daughters defiled by Muslim mobs? Gandhi got out of his car amid a shower of rocks and bottles. Raising one hand in a frail gesture of peace, the old man [in his late 70s by then] walked alone into the crowd. “You wish to do me ill,” he called, “and so I am coming to you.” The crowd fell silent. “I have come here to serve Hindus and Muslims alike. I am going to place myself under your protection. You are welcome to turn against me if you wish. I have nearly reached the end of life’s journey. I have not much further to go. But if you again go mad, I will not be a living witness to it.”

Peace reigned in Calcutta that day, and then on the formal day of India’s independence, and the next, and the next, for sixteen days in all. In the alley outside Gandhi’s slum home, people gathered each night to attend his prayer meetings—a thousand at first, then ten thousand, and finally a million people jamming the streets of the slum to hear him lecture over loudspeakers on peace and love and brotherhood. … While whole states in India were going up in flames, with millions of people fleeing their homes and hundreds of thousands dying, not one act of violence occurred in the most violent city. “The miracle of Calcutta” it was called worldwide.

Yancey writes that Gandhi credited Jesus as his source for the life principles of reconciliation, humility, and sacrifice.

The other day in Starbucks, I read this excerpt to my husband, and we both burst out in laughter and in tears. It was a weird reaction, but just in reading this account I felt all filled up and somehow relieved, like being finally reunited with a loved one after a long time away.

I’ve been thinking since then about how the self-giving love of Christ is so stunning and so deeply satisfying to the human soul that–once you witness it–you cannot not respond to it.

A particular passage of Scripture became alive in me recently that I have pondered for some time. I John 1 talks about walking in the Light as He is in the Light. Walking in Him, then, means darkness cannot be present. But one little word in the middle of all of that stands out, and we can miss it….

My blog this month looks a little different – but here’s a creative version of what I’m trying to say:

“I just wish they KNEW me” was the cry of her heart

Each day she that she went to work,

But instead they all focused on what they were doing.

Heads down, hands busy – so many needs to meet,

So many hurting people out there – particularly the young.

The days were always long – but laughter would fill the air

From time to time.

Deadlines and crises and last minute epiphanies

ruled

until days and months and years passed

and the cry of her heart was always the same;

“I just wish they knew me.”

“I just wish they KNEW me” was the cry of His heart.

And yet each day they went to their work

Focused on what they were doing.

How fun to watch what He had planted in their heart

Begin to blossom

As they explored the possibilities;

Creating,

Educating,

Helping;

Yet – His heart ached.

He created them – and oh how much fun He had doing so!

Anticipating,

Forming,

Planning.

His light had illuminated their dark world.

They could live in His light

And be free;

But it required something they sometimes forget

In their passion for pursuing their purpose – HIS purpose:

Fellowship. True fellowship.

Unbroken fellowship.

Not just with Him, but with one another.

Then they would see Him.

Through each other, they would really SEE Him.

And they would KNOW Him.

And then they could make Him known to the world.

1 John 1:7 (Amplified Bible)

7But if we [really] are living and walking in the Light, as He [Himself] is in the Light, we have [true, unbroken] fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanses (removes) us from all sin and guilt [keeps us cleansed from sin in all its forms and manifestations].

After the call, I went to the prayer chapel in The Mission Society office. I took my thoughts and feelings to God and asked him to give me His confidence. I also thanked him for the privilege of being invited. I wish I could say the feelings of inadequacy left me right away. I wish I could even say that they are completely gone as I type this blog. What gives me hope is that God has helped me work through these feelings in the past. Please pray for me, that my focus will be on Jesus. I know that He has a plan for me to be at Cape Town 2010…and that’s what really matters.

One thing Emily loves to do is walk around holding onto my index fingers as I walk right behind her. She walks around with a huge smile on her face and is not afraid to take her little steps. Sometimes she stumbles and falls, but she gets right back up, determined to overcome any obstacles and start walking again. She has such joy and boldness as she takes these steps.

It made me think about my spiritual walk with God and how it is so easy to let fear and doubt take away my boldness as I follow Jesus. And it certainly can rob me from the joy that life in Christ promises.

When I walk around the room holding fingers with Emily I am sometimes overcome by the love I have for her and how much I desire the best for her – how much I want her to accomplish all that she wants to do. I don’t want her to lose that joy and confidence. Then I think of how God feels the same way about us. It is a simple analogy, but one that I believe speaks to the heart of God. He’s right there, watching over us, desiring the best for us, and gently helping us along a little as we take our steps in faith. Sometimes we fall, but sometimes we don’t. And He is with us each step of the way to encourage us.

This is true of us now at The Mission Society as well as we take steps out in new directions in ministry. There will be challenges and even opposition. But, as we mobilize and deploy people globally to join Jesus in his mission, especially among the least-reached peoples of this world, we want to go with joy and boldness as God walks with us step-by-step.

“So what do you do?”

It’s a question so repulsive to me that when I talk to people for the first time, I avoid it at all costs. I prefer the question, “So what’s your story? Who is Alex Gapud, (or John Doe, or etc.)?” Basically, what you do doesn’t matter so much to me. What I want to know is who you are. What matters to you? Where have you been, where are you now, where are you going in this journey called life? What are your hopes, your dreams? What are you passionate about? What makes you come alive?

Unsurprisingly, instead of the response I hope for, I’m often met immediately after that question with, “Well, I work at so and so and do such and such,” to my occasional frustration. Not at the person I meet so much as what it says about our culture, and in turn, what our culture says about God and our relationship with Him.

It seems to me that the reason this question is asked so often, or the reason it’s the automatic response out of folks is because in our Western culture, somehow, doing has been the thing that defines us. It’s not so much about what type of person we actually are, what our values and morals are, or any of that these days, but it’s what we do.

Think about it this way. If and when you ever ask the average non-believer if they think they’re going to heaven when they die and why, the typical response is more or less, “Well, I’m a good person. I didn’t cheat on my spouse, kill anyone, steal from people, etc.”

Their goodness, as they define it, is completely based on what they do or don’t do, as opposed to who they are. (Or at best, who they are is, in their eyes, established by what they do.) And at that, in our present-day context, “goodness” is based more on relative terms (and therefore, more self-defined) rather than absolute.

It’s a far cry from, “I am a sinner, forgiven and redeemed by the blood of Jesus,” which uses absolute terms based on nothing I’ve done or nothing of my own merit. We know from Romans 3:23 that “all have sinned and fallen short of the Glory of God” and this is absolute. By absolute truth and measures (and there is ample evidence in my life, to be sure) I am not a good person. I am a sinner. And there is nothing I can do except to accept Jesus as the propitiation for my sin and confess Him as Lord and Saviour that will resolve my crisis or change my identity.

So I come to find more and more that my walk with Christ is even less and less about not only what I do, but what I am because of what He did. My identity at the core of my being is changed because of Him—not because of anything I have done.

But even in that, it seems as though our culture’s emphasis on value and worth is based on doing. I know a number of recent college graduates that are having a hard time with this measuring stick, as a lot of well-talented, educated, intelligent young people are struggling to find employment. On the other side of the spectrum, I’ve met and talked to a number of people who have had successful careers for the past 20 years, only to be recently laid-off. How then, do these folks fit into the system and define themselves? Are we therefore implying their limited and relatively lower worth and value as people because of “what they do”?

It just seems to me in my idealistic, 25-year old mind, that our Western system of defining ourselves on doing not only doesn’t work—if it ever has—but in our changing world and rough economy, I don’t think it can anymore. Go a step further and throw in how many Eastern cultures in our globalized world don’t have a worldview focused on what we do, and it adds further complication to our changing world.

May we be a people as followers of Jesus who define ourselves and establish our identity more on who we are in Him as opposed to measuring ourselves, our worth, and each other and establishing a false identity based on what we do.

So when I took a position on staff at the home office, I decided I should also establish something that would give me a special identity with our MKs. Being a serious aficionado of ice cream, that seemed a logical choice. So I began getting the word out before visiting missionary families around the world that I was on a quest to identify the best ice cream in the world. The MKs were to choose a place where I could take them for ice cream. A couple years ago, the Paraguay MKs insisted that I had to try three different places in Asuncion to really ascertain which was the best. A very sneaky way to get treated three times!

So this past Sunday on the final day of our missionary training here in Brazil, the Lord provided the opportune moment – it was the end of a day, several hours since we’d eaten and a few more before we’d be able to again, the bus was about 15 minutes away, and I saw an ice cream freezer at a nearby drug store. I was able to seize the moment and initiate our newest MKs to this wonderful tradition and further solidify my identity as “the Ice Cream Man.” (I also discovered that Magnum makes a very tasty dark chocolate ice cream bar.)

Ice cream has been a fun and yummy medium to convey an important truth to our missionary kids – they are an important part of our community and valued for who they are. They are not simply an appendage to the “real” missionaries. Fortunately, my ice cream treats are really just one minor contribution among many to a very serious commitment The Mission Society has to our MKs.

And, the best ice cream in the world? Well, I still have a few more MKs to visit, but the winner is….<error H31 – insufficient data>

During even the best of days there are jobs we go to, needs of the family to be met, stores to be shopped in, emergencies to take care of, people to make happy, phone calls to make, bills to pay, cars to fix…and the list goes on. It’s called ‘life’ and some days we live it out better than others. There is the pull of the demands of life that never go away – there will always be demands. And the “gravity” – the weight, if you will – that goes along with the demands can be a little overwhelming and our shoulders seem a bit burdened at the load, particularly if the load doesn’t lighten after a long time.

But what happens to our bodies when we sleep at night? The cartilage between the vertebrae in your spinal cord is relaxed and stretches out, water diffuses back between our discs, and the function of every muscle and organ in our bodies slow down.

While biology is not my favorite subject to tackle, God will always use the natural to reveal a spiritual truth. We may all know the importance of rest, of taking a Sabbath, and of incorporating some fun in our lives. But this I find - I can take a vacation or change my routine or have fun with people I love, and that is a necessary part of life. But true rest comes from setting my eyes on the One who is with me, whether it’s hectic or not. True refreshing comes not just from letting go of certain demands, but letting go of certain thoughts, letting go of pride and fear, and breathing in and out His peace and His presence. It is there that our perspective changes. It is there we are refreshed and healed And it is there we behold Him. And when we behold Him, we don’t feel the burden of the gravity. We rest. In Him. Always in Him.

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”
Matthew 11:28-30 (The Message)

Monday, July 5, was the date we chose for our big adventure. It couldn’t have been a more gorgeous day. The skies were cloudless, and there in the mountains there wasn’t much pollution or anything else (air included!) to soften the brilliance of the deep blue skies. Parking about two miles from the trailhead, we headed out. Two-and-a-half hours, four miles and a 3,000’ vertical ascent later, we reached the summit. The 360o view was, in a word, spectacular! To the west was Leadville. To the east was Fairplay. If you could have burrowed through the mountain, I’m guessing they’d only be about 20 miles apart, though it’s about an hour-and-a-half drive to get from one to the other.

You’ll forgive me if I say that Pam and I were duly impressed by our having reached the top without an undue amount of huffing and puffing. Of course, to be totally candid, I have to let you in on one bit of information that put our sense of accomplishment in perspective. When we reached the summit, we met a young couple from Denver who were hunkered down behind some rocks to get out of the wind, enjoying a picnic lunch. With them was their two-year-old son, who had reached the summit effortlessly on his Daddy’s back. And Mommy had picked this particular date to climb Mt. Sherman because she wanted to climb her first fourteener before baby #2 was born … in three months! Our feat seemed marginally less noteworthy after meeting them. (Of course, my doc reminded me during my annual physical this morning that they hadn’t begun to celebrate anniversaries of their 60th birthdays. I really like my doctor! He’s obvioiusly a very smart guy.)

Somewhere in the midst of all this hiking around, Pam and I gazed at the incredible mountains, took in the amazing scenery, looked at each other and said, “We were made for this!”

Now, to be sure, not everyone was made for camping or for climbing fourteeners. Some folks’ idea of roughing it is a weekend at the Holiday Inn. Hey, each to his own.

But what occurred to me when I got thinking about it was that there are some other things I was made for. Like the time a few years ago when Pam asked me what I would do if I could do anything in the world I wanted to do. At the time, I was leading The Mission Society’s efforts to mobilize local churches for missions. I absolutely loved what I was doing, so a big grin came on my face, I looked at Pam and said, “Baby, I’m doin’ it!”

A couple years ago, I met Asaph Borba, the Brazilian musician who introduced contemporary praise and worship music to his country. He taught us a little chorus called, “I was born to worship you.” We sang it in about six languages. When we sang it in Arabic, my colleague Ben and I both started crying. Worship is another thing I was made for.

Rick Warren says we were made for a mission. (That wasn’t his idea, of course. But every generation needs someone to remind it of ageless truths.) I think he’s right.

I hope to climb some more fourteeners one of these days. Mt. Elbert and Mt. Massive to the west seemed to be calling to me from my perch on top of Mt. Sherman.

But between now and then, I want every day to be about the things that I was REALLY made for. Like Him. And like joining Jesus in His mission.

The problem was that everything in my walk with the Lord, though it was sincere and genuine from what I knew, was modeled after the way that my friends and mentors lived their lives and walked with the Lord. In those years in college, rarely, if ever, did I stop and ask the Lord how He wanted me to pray, how He wanted me to worship, and to do so in ways that were genuine and sincere and authentic in correlation with who He uniquely made me to be. And in that, I believe I was on a course to do something safe and familiar with my life, rather than some exceptional and extraordinary thing for which God had purposed me for.

Four summers ago, my world was undone, almost completely, my faith hanging by a thread. It wasn’t that I had begun to live a life in sin, or that I even doubted my faith, strange as it sounds. It’s that I went to Southern England for a study abroad and discovered two things: 1) the Christian bubble and subculture in which I’d immersed myself had little to no meaning or relevance outside of itself; I was unable to really connect with the 70 kids from my public university that weren’t Christians and 2) not all people that loved and followed Jesus did things the way I (or most everyone I knew) did. They prayed differently. They worshiped differently. They approached the Throne of God completely differently than I did. And because it didn’t fit my paradigm, it undid me.

You could make a case that both are incredibly disorienting, and that potentially, the synergy of the two was fatal to a young believer’s faith.

It was then that God took me by the hand Himself, kicked over the bricks that I’d put together (kind of like a little kid building a pyramid out of Legos that he’s really proud of) and began to form me into me. And He began to mold me and shape me as He would have me, rather than to be a product of my own environment and to have the faith and relationship of others projected on me.

Through this incredibly difficult experience and process that took nearly a year to recover from, the Lord showed me one passage in Scripture that has really challenged and formed me, and is central to my approach to ministry.

In the 16th chapter of Matthew, Jesus has a small but incredibly significant exchange with His disciples. Starting in verse 13, He asks His disciples—who have walked with Him some time now and have seen Him perform His miracles and heard Him teach and seen how He lives His life—and He asks them, “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” Or, as I believe He asks you and I the question, “Who do others say that I am?” And they reply, “Some say John the Baptist; others, Elijah; but still others, Jeremiah, or one of the prophets.” And don’t miss verse 15, where I believe He looked His disciples in the eye and said to them, “Who do you say that I am?” And there they are. They’ve walked with Him, talked with Him, they know Jesus, and He asks them, “Who do you say that I am?” The answer to this question that matters isn’t what others say. If we’re all about a personal relationship with Jesus, we must answer that question ourselves.

And sometimes, it takes meeting believers from halfway around the world who worship and love the same Jesus in a completely different manner for Him to ask us the same question.

Right now, we have 11 interns serving in six countries, and a big part of my job is to coordinate their internships and to encourage them as they go through probably the greatest and most challenging experience of their lives so far. My prayer for them is that, just as I found myself in a foreign environment in Southern England four summers ago and was asked this all-important question, so they would hear the same question that begs an answer, and come to the answer genuinely, and of themselves.