Every Nation

Language acquisition...

September 23, 2007

Two weeks ago, our Boot Camp class went to an Asian district in downtown Oklahoma City. Our task was to learn some phrases in Vietnamese and find certain ethnic foods in the markets. P. achieved the assigned goals, but L.A. found something else! At the third stop, a pottery market, some friends told me (L.A.) that they couldn't speak to the owner, because he knew only Chinese. A friend urged me to ask him about the origin of the beautiful pots. I am trying to overcome my timidness regarding speaking in a language I'm not too good in, because I'll need to just be bold once we get overseas! I went up to the man and asked, in Chinese, "Do you speak Mandarin (Chinese)?" He said yes, and stood up to talk. From then on, my timidness was gone! I asked him about the pots, which are made in China, and eventually found out that he painted them all! I asked about his time in Oklahoma; he's been in the United States for two months and does not have much business because people just drive by, whereas in China everyone walks and so they would at least see his wares. Eventually, it was time to meet P. and the rest of the team for lunch, so I had to say bye, but I went through the rest of the day excited that I was able to begin a friendship in a foreign language!

I just wanted to use that story to introduce this update, because P. and I are currently preparing for what I think will be the most exciting part of our training: language acquisition! Beginning Monday, we will take a course on the "Language Acquisition Made Practical" method. When we move across the ocean in January, we will use this method to learn the local language of the people to whom we want to tell about our loving Father! A week from today, we will leave Oklahoma for our 5 weeks of language learning in Mexico. We will learn a few phrases at a time through talking to people whom we meet walking around our villages. We're excited!

L.A. & P.

Dreams and Visions...

The following story happened in Turkey in October 2004.  This is one of my favorite stories from our work.

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We began the day walking and praying in a city of around 100,000 people in which there are only two known believers. We were asking God to lead us to people of peace that we could share with. We were asking God to lead us to people whom could open doors of opportunities for future work in this city.

As we walked we were drawn to a music store. We went in and noticed an unusual musical instrument for sale and we asked if anyone could show us how it was played. The guy running the store said that the owner could show us if we could come back that afternoon. We agreed and moved on.

Later that afternoon we went back to the music store and the owner was waiting. We sat down and he gave a performance that lasted about 30 minutes. It was great. Someone asked if it would be OK for me to play one of his guitars that he had for sale. He agreed and we played and sang two praise and worship songs. Even though he couldn’t understand our words he told us that the songs made him feel peaceful. He asked if we could come back the next day and we agreed.

The next morning we went back and our new friend was waiting. We continued our conversation from the previous day and reached a point where we were ready to give him a gift. We gave him a copy of the New Testament and a couple of videos, including the Jesus Film. We talked briefly about the gift and how it would help him to better understand and know who Jesus was. He was touched and pleased that we gave him the gift.

We decided to go to lunch and spend a little more time together. We ordered our meal and continued to talk as we waited. After the food arrived we bowed our heads and asked God to bless the meal. As we finished, our friend told us something that absolutely blew us away!

He said that he had a dream four nights earlier. In his dream he saw each of our faces. He saw us sitting at a table just as we were. He saw us praying for a meal. He said that in his culture dreams and visions are very common and they are often thought to be from God. He said that he believes that God gave him the dream so that he would know to accept the information from us. He said that he believed that God sent us to him for a reason. We were blown away! This was an answer to prayer. We had been praying that God would lead us to people who had experienced dreams and visions of this kind.

Our friend hasn’t reached the point of accepting the gospel. In fact, what he heard this past week would have been the very first time for him to hear the gospel.  However, we believe that he will. We also believe he will be a true man of peace for this unreached city. He is someone that many people know. He will have a great impact and will be able to open many doors for the gospel.

Pray with us for his salvation. Pray with us for the follow-up that will be done by the workers. Pray with us that God will use our dreaming friend to plant many churches in this unreached city!

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The last word we have from our friend is that he is still open and interested in walking in the kingdom.  We continue to pray for his salvation and that God will use him to make many disciples in this small Turkish city.  We are also praying for God to call out workers to go to this city full-time.  Please pray with us for the Kingdom to come in this man's life, his family and his community.

Until ALL Have Heard,

jeg

The Mosque of Omar...

I wrote this story after returning from a trip to Palestine in April of 2007.

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We had met the two young Palestinian Muslim men the night before as we delivered food to a poor Muslim family in Bethlehem.  “Khalid” is 21 and is studying to be an accountant.  “Hakim” is 26 and is blind.  When Hakim was 13 he found a live Israeli land mine in his back yard.  He lost his right arm and his sight.

We had asked them to take us on a tour of Manger Square and the Church of the Nativity.  The young men did a good job of telling us the story of the birth of Jesus.  As we left, I asked them if they could then take us to visit the Mosque of Omar.

This mosque was built across Manger Square from the Church of the Nativity and is a symbol of peaceful coexistence between Palestinian Christians and Muslims.  The land the mosque is built on was donated by the Greek Orthodox Church.

We removed our shoes and eased in.  We were met by a man who worked at the mosque.  He wasn’t the Imam, but he worked for him.  He took us inside and showed us around.  Then it happened.

As we stood before the mihrab we began to talk about what the Qur’an says about Jesus.  Hakim translated our conversation.  It was an incredible exchange.  The man we were sharing with had the typical responses I hear from most Muslims, but he was very cordial and listened to our replies and comments. 

The conversation lasted for maybe half an hour or so.  Good seeds were planted, both in the hearts of the man who works at the mosque and in the hearts of Khalid and Hakim.  This was one of our divine appointments in Bethlehem.

Until ALL Have Heard,

jeg

american woman...

we got our passports back today. they had been gone for about two weeks while getting our year-long visas stamped in them. and by stamped i mean now taking up an entire page. so much for every trying to be sneaky about having an israeli stamp in our books.

the first day they were gone, i tried to go into jerusalem. we have to go through the checkpoint every time we want to go into jerusalem. we usually just flash our "magic blue books of power" and the guards smile and wave and we go through without any problems. well, i didn't have my magic book. i had a bright yellow piece of paper with a bunch of hebrew writing. it's a volunteer permit, which implies that i have a visa and a passport. it actually has my passport number in it. but the guard was having a bad day and it was raining, so she wouldn't roll down the window of the guard room to look at it closely and she didn't speak enough english to understand that my passport is with the israeli's, it's actually her fault i that don't have it, now may i please go? she didn't let me through. i had to get back in the van, turn around and drive past a long line of cars. rejected. i was fuming. how dare she! she wouldn't even read it! i don't know what it says, because i don't read hebrew, but that's her job! and she was so rude! then i started to think, well i'm like one of the palestinians. this is how it feels. this is how it is to be humiliated and treated like crap and turned away for no good reason. and then i started thinking yeah, i am just like them. the girl was so rude! she has no right to treat me like that! after all....i'm an american.

and then i wanted to slap myself in the face.

it wasn't that i was another human being and she had no right to treat me how she did. it wasn't that i had the papers that i needed and she just wouldn't look at them. it wasn't that i had a legitimate right to be in the country and she wouldn't take the time to listen. it was that i was an american. so how dare she inconvenience me.

i think a lot of times i don't realize how easy i have it over here. that was the only time i've ever had problems going into jerusalem. when i got back to the house of hope, i told my sob story to everyone around and rhoda quickly wrote a letter in hebrew explaining exactly where my passport was and told me to call her if i had any trouble and she'd be right there. i went on to complain to all the other palestinians about how rude the guard was, how she gave me a dirty look and wouldn't let me through.

and then i wanted to slap myself in the face again.

most of the workers here can never go to jerusalem. once or twice a year they get permits for christmas or easter, but it all depends on the mood of the people working at the permit office. and when they do get permits, they're not allowed to simply drive through the wall. they have to walk through the checkpoint, which makes you feel like you're cattle being herded. it takes forever. and the guards are usually really impolite. and i was complaining to these people about one dirty look and one delay that was quickly fixed.

i'm so spoiled, but i don't know how to fix it. i am so thankful to have an american passport. i am so thankful that i was born in america and that i was born into a family that has plenty of money to provide for my needs. i am so thankful for the freedom of movement that i have, both here and at home. but sometimes i feel really guilty for feeling thankful. is it ok to be thankful that i'm so much better off than the people around me? i guess i just have to make sure that my thankfulness does not turn into a feeling that i am owed anything that i have been thankful for.

sp

May our voice be added...

September 12, 2007

Today in class (HGM bootcamp) we watched a video about a tribal group in Indonesia that had never heard about Jesus or the gospel. Over the years I have seen many such videos and it seems a daily thing for me to talk with people about others in the same situation throughout the earth. Today, however, something was different; this video showed that these people have always, as far as any one could remember, been looking for the path to eternal life. It was a constant topic of conversation and something these people put a lot of work into. At one point they even built a boat, filled it with all kinds of fruits, vegetables and gifts. They sent the boat down the river hoping that the spirits of their ancestors, those who knew the way to life, would find this boat causing them to remember the ones who sent it and come back to teach them the way.

It was 30 years later that the first followers of Jesus came to this people. God heard their cry and responded by sending His children to show them the path to life.

As I watched this video my heart broke as I thought of all those who died waiting for these messengers of the cross to come. As I cried I felt pain that is in the heart of the Lord Jesus over the billions of souls that today are searching and asking with no one to tell them the way. I went out to the prayer chapel here and wept with Jesus as He brought pictures of many old men and women who I have met or seen on my travels. I know that most if not all of them will die and that Jesus will never receive the worship He deserves from them.

Brothers and sisters, tomorrow begins the Holy month of Ramadan.  For one month 1,000,000,000 Muslims throughout the earth will fast from food and water from sun up to sun down and pray more regularly than at any other time of year. Many of them are excited for this time of spiritual focus and hope to somehow encounter the One True God. Five times a day they will pray, the end of their prayer is asking God to lead them on the straight path not the way of unrighteous but of the pure. 

 Why has He chosen me, saved me, shown me His grace and love? Am I better than these? Did I seek harder? Or want Him more? I think not. Never did I make a boat, sacrifice food, fast, pray, give, ask, search, cry out, bow down for years on end or give up anything of real worth in hopes of finding truth. Still Jesus came to me and showed me the straight path. Will we allow the humility that this kind of truth demands into our hearts and from a place of submission tell Him, “Father, whatever you have for me. I will obey! You have freely given me so much. Teach me to freely give.”

God said He hears those who call upon Him and His ear is attentive to their prayer. May our voice be added to the billion Muslim voices that are crying out for Mercy. Saints, we can go into the Holy of Holies, stand before the throne of Grace by the blood of the Lamb and ask for mercy in our time of need. Let us take up this most awesome and holy gift and duty of being priests. Let us plead for God to have mercy on them.

In the Name of Jesus the only name by which men can be saved,

m

A spirit of fear...

I wrote this story in early 2006, having just returned from leading a team into Pakistan for earthquake relief work.  I was in the process of preparing to return with a second team when this happened.

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“Anti-U.S. Rally attracts 10,000 in Pakistan city” 

So read the headline of the newspaper my wife handed me while saying, “I know you are going back.  Do I need to worry about this?”

I read the story and noticed several things.  The ten thousand people who demonstrated did so in Karachi, Pakistan’s largest city.  Ten thousand people, out of more than 13 million, who saw the need to protest.  This is insignificant!  Only .07% of the population of Karachi saw the need to shout “Death to America” and burn an American flag.  Is that something we need fear?  The article continued, “Hundreds also rallied in Islamabad, Lahore, Multan and Peshawar.”  The combined populations of Islamabad, Lahore, Multan and Peshawar approaches 7 million, yet, only “hundreds” saw the need to protest.  Again, this is insignificant!

My wife and I talked about these things and I assured her that I would never knowingly do something stupid.  I told her that I knew to avoid large crowds and if something “big” happens to stay inside.  We reminded ourselves that God has called us to the “hard” places and that one of the greatest tools the evil one would continually use to keep us from invading his territory is fear.  We saw through the newspaper article for what it truly was, an attempt to instill fear in the hearts of those who have the Truth.  We hugged, thanked God for calling us to the “hard” places and went on with life.

I have decided to share this little vignette of our life because I want to take on this “spirit of fear” that seems to permeate our culture, especially that of the local church.  I think this spirit of fear paralyzes so many of us.  The newspapers we read and the Fox News and CNN we watch and the “talking heads” we listen to on the radio and TV talk shows have influenced us.  Influenced us to the point of being too afraid of doing what we know God has called us to do.  Influenced us to the point of being disobedient.  This is sad.  This is wrong.  This is sin.

I once had a man walk up to me after asking a church body for volunteers to go to Pakistan.  Our conversation went something like this:

“Are you sure you want to go there?”

“Why not,” I answered.

“Well, isn’t it dangerous?”

“Maybe.  Does that mean they don’t deserve to hear about the new life Jesus has offered them,” I replied.

“No, I guess it doesn’t.”

“Then I’m sure I want to go.” 

As the man walked off, I heard him muttering under his breath something about “those …. Muslims…..”

This is just one example of many I have experienced over the past few years.  It seems to be getting worse. 

Thinking about these things over the past few days, I am reminded of the time when Jesus calmed the storm.  You remember how it goes.  Jesus got into a boat and He and His disciples began to cross the lake.  Jesus falls asleep and a “furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped.”  The disciples were afraid and awoke Jesus saying to Him, “Teacher, don’t You care if we drown?”  Jesus “got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, ‘Quiet!  Be still!’  Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.  He said to His disciples, ‘Why are you so afraid?  Do you still have no faith?’”  (Mark 4:35-41)

Did you catch that?  Jesus equated His disciple’s fear with a lack of faith.  The disciple’s fear of a situation in which they had no control was called a lack of faith.  Is there any difference between the disciple’s fear and our fear of Muslims, or terrorists or of unknown cultures or whatever it is we fear?  I do not see it. 

Fear is the absence of faith, faith in The Almighty God, Who is never surprised or caught off guard.  Fear does not come from the Father; “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear…” (2 Timothy 1:7)  Fear is a tool of the enemy, plain and simple.

There is a good fear.  It is a healthy fear of the Lord.  “And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear Him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.”  (Matthew 10:28)  This is the fear we should pursue.  This is the fear we should embrace, a fear of being disobedient to the call and command to take the Gospel of the Kingdom to those who have never heard.  This is the fear that controls and drives my life.  This is the fear that has resulted in a true peace that transcends all understanding about going to the “hard” places. 

I will go because I have been called and commanded.  Nothing else matters.  I will be obedient.  Fear must not stand in the way.  I must not submit to a spirit of fear.  I must submit to my King Jesus.  Anything else is sin.

Until ALL Have Heard,

EG

Brother Ibrahim

This story happened in early 2005.  I had organized a team of men for relief work following the December 26, 2004 tsunami.  We spent almost 2 weeks working on several islands in a country that is almost 100% Muslim.

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He stepped in front of me, blocking my path.  I was prayer walking the tiny island in the Indian Ocean I would be on for the next few days. 

“Hello!” 

He spoke and then produced a smile as wide as his dark and wrinkled face.  He appeared to be a gentle man and stood no more than five foot two.  He wore only a blue plaid lungi, wrapped around his waist.  He waited for my response.

“Hello!”  I said.

He slapped his bare chest with his hand and said, “Ibrahim.”

I slapped mine and told him my name.

We had connected.  We both smiled and continued to look at each other.  He reached out, grabbed me by the hand and motioned for me to follow.  I did.  We walked a bit and he took me to his tiny cinder block hut, which was in a small walled compound.  We walked through the hut and into an open area and he motioned for me to sit.

I sat in the makeshift chair, nothing more than a few cleverly welded metal tubes entwined with an old fishing net.  He grabbed a machete, placed it between his teeth and deftly climbed the yard’s lone coconut palm.  Ibrahim tossed down his harvest of two young coconuts and came down just as easily as he went up.  Using his machete, he hacked a hole in the top of one of the coconuts and handed it to me to drink.

The first and last time I had ever tried fresh coconut had not ended well.  Let’s just say it was a very liberating experience.  I had a choice to make.  I offered up a silent prayer for protection and began to sip.  It tasted divine.

Ibrahim began to speak to me in his native tongue.  I had no idea what he was saying, although I gathered he was asking me a question.  I shrugged my shoulders and smiled, in an attempt to convey that I did not understand.  He understood.  He continued to talk, however, and so did I.  We asked each other all kinds of questions and then laughed together each time we shrugged our sign of no comprehension.  It was an incredibly pleasant afternoon. 

As I stood to leave, Ibrahim took me by the hand again.  He led me to a calendar hanging on the wall of his hut.  He pointed to the date of that day and then to his watch.  He saw that I understood.  He then pointed to the next day and to his watch.  He was asking me to come back the next day.  I shook my head in understanding and knew that I had a date.  Ibrahim and I met for a coconut each day for the next few days.

One afternoon, Ibrahim’s nephew was there.  He spoke just enough English for me to learn some things about his uncle.  Ibrahim was in his mid fifties, although he looked much older.  He had worked on a fishing boat all of his life until he was forced to retire due to bad arthritis.  He was a devout Muslim, who read the Arabic Koran every day.  He did not understand Arabic but had learned how to read it as a child, just as every child does in his island nation that is almost 100% Muslim.  I was the first Christian Ibrahim had ever met. 

We were leaving the island the next day.  I knew this would be my last afternoon with my good friend Ibrahim.  I approached his hut and let myself in.  Ibrahim was sitting on a stool with his legs crossed.  He had a large copy of the Koran on his lap and he was reading it aloud.  He saw me, smiled and continued with his reading.  I sat in respect and listened. 

As he read, I prayed that Allah would open his heart and reveal the truth of Isa al Masih.  In my heart, I sensed the Spirit’s voice, “You tell him!  Just tell him in English and believe that I can cause him to hear in his tongue.”  I doubted.  The Spirit persisted.  I argued.  The Spirit overcame.  I knew what I had to do.

Ibrahim finished reading and he closed the Koran.  He carefully wrapped it in a beautiful cloth and reverently placed it in a place of honor.  He grabbed my hand and took me to the yard.  He went through the same routine I had witnessed for several days and we sat to drink and enjoy each other’s company.

I began to speak.  I said, “Ibrahim, I have something important I want to share with you.”  He shook his head as if he understood.  I then began to tell him about Isa al Masih.  I shared the simple gospel of Allah’s korbani (sacrifice) of the perfect Lamb, Isa al Masih, for the sins of all humanity.  He continued to shake his head as if he clearly understood everything I was saying.  Part of me believed it was truly happening and part of me thought he was just going along because it was the polite thing to do. 

I finished sharing by telling Ibrahim that I believed Allah had orchestrated our friendship.  He shook his head in agreement and pointed to the sky saying, “Al-hamdulillah!”  I shook his hand and walked away, thinking I would never see him again.

I have been thinking about this a lot recently.  What really happened?  Did Ibrahim truly understand what I was saying?  Something in me wants to know.  Something in me tells me I will never know, at least this side of Paradise.  My thoughts on this have landed me in Hebrews, chapter 11, the faith chapter.

“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.”  Hebrews 11:1

“And without faith it is impossible to please God…”  Hebrews 11:6

“These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised.”  Hebrews 11:39

I think God regularly asks His followers to do things that do not make sense.  I think He wants us to take risks and to do things even if we do not see the results.  This is faith.  This results in our learning to trust and to know God in all things, especially in those times when we cannot see.  When we live by faith, it pleases God.  When we trust Him to do what He says He will do, He is glorified.  He is pleased.  He is exalted.  I think this is what God was seeking when He asked me to share the gospel with Ibrahim.

Did Ibrahim actually understand what I said that afternoon?  Logic says no.  Faith says yes.  I am choosing to believe that Ibrahim heard and understood every word.  My belief rests solely on the Spirit’s promise that Ibrahim would understand if I would simply speak out in faith.

As we stepped on the fishing boat to leave the next morning, I saw Ibrahim in the distance.  He was walking toward us.  I noticed he had two freshly cut coconuts in his hands and a smile on his face.  He approached the boat and handed me the coconuts.  We shook hands and said our goodbyes.  As we pulled out of the jetty, I said in my heart, “Brother Ibrahim, I hope to see you again; if not in this life, in the next.”

Until ALL Have Heard,

EG