The Hundred Dollar Bag of Apples

Yesterday afternoon we stopped in a little Illinois town called Poplar Grove.  They have a fun little roadside stand there with all sorts of Fall-ish things.  Delicious apples, fat pumpkins, cute scarecrows, warty gourds.  We were very touristy and pulled out the camera.  We are on our Fall Tour after all.  We also bought a bag of apples.

Who knew buying apples could be so dangerous?

This morning we woke up and realized that our wallet was missing.  As in I-tore-apart-the-van-and-shook-the-chairs-upside-down-and-I-still-can’t-find-it missing.  With $100 in cash.  Guess where we’d seen it last?

We jumped in our van and drove back to Poplar Grove.

We didn’t talk much on the way there.  I don't know about everyone else, but I was mostly trying to figure out what sort of frame of mind I needed to be in to convince God that it would be really good if He got us our wallet and our money back.  We are homeless missionaries after all.

Once in Poplar Grove, Lisa jumped out of the van and went to ask about the missing wallet.  I watched her from the van and didn’t see any impromptu gymnastics.  I figured that meant bad news.

Sure enough.  No wallet.

Way to go, God.

I turned the van around and pulled out of the parking lot.  Put the brakes on at the stop sign.  And very nearly ran over a wallet lying in the middle of the road.  Guess whose wallet?

I looked God’s way and sniffed.

We opened the wallet and looked inside.  All the important things - driver’s license, credit card, social security - were all there.  The only thing missing was the hundred dollars.  Apparently, God wasn’t too concerned about us running out of funds.

At this point, we had a quarter tank of gas left, four hours worth of road to travel, and exactly ten dollars to our name.  Somehow the math wasn’t quite adding up.  We asked God what He wanted us to do (now that He had us pinned), jumped back in the van, and started driving.  Stopped to invest our ten dollars in oil and kept going.  We figured we could make it to Chicago.  God was going to have to do something after that.

We were alright with it.  Well, sort of.  But we didn’t have much of a choice, so we were doing our best to look God in the face without glaring.  But the people we were supposed to be meeting with that day were still in the dark.  I started down the list of phone calls.  “Uh, yeah, hi, so about that lunch date . . . Yes, we are on our way right now . . . Um, not sure when we’ll make it . . . Yes, we’re driving.  Yep, straight towards you.  Only . . . well, we don’t have enough gas to get there.”

Third time around on that conversation, I was getting kinda tired of saying it.

That’s when our friend offered to get us gas money.  Well, first he offered to drive three hours to fill our van up.  Then he had a better idea.  Something called MoneyGram.  Yeah, I had never heard of it either.  Basically, it means he used technology, and we got to walk into the grocery store and carry out some money.  Guess how much?

Exactly one hundred dollars.  We hadn’t breathed a single word to him about how much money we’d lost.  You can’t convince me that God doesn’t take care of those who trust in Him.

. . . That’s also the most expensive bag of apples I’ve ever seen.

The Darkness in Our Dreams

This is for the kids (and adults!) who attended Merge on Wednesday night at EUM Church in Racine, Wisconsin . . . and also for all who wanted to be there. :-)

So, Wednesday night we talked about dreams.  We talked about ugliness and how God sees us through Christ and the different paths we can walk down.  I shared two stories about darkness and light.  Two stories about other people.

I’d like to get a little more personal.  I’d like to share a story from my own life.  Cause, hate to break it to you, but my 29 years haven’t been straight blue skies and sunshine.  I’ve seen God allow darkness into my dreams.

Here’s something that happened recently:

A few years ago, I read a story about a missionary who did something amazing.  Something impossible.  He set out to prove God’s faithfulness.  He set out to show the Bride of Christ the power of prayer.  And God came through.  I’ve read them, story after story after story from this man giving evidence to the unfailingness of God.

I thought that sounded pretty cool.  “I want stories,” I told God.  “Stories that prove Your word true.  Stories I can take to Your Church and say, ‘Here, let me tell you what God’s done for me.  Let me tell you how He’s moving today.’ ”

I started praying.  Asking God, believing God to pull through for me.  Putting myself in a position where, if He didn’t show up, I would be at the very least a fool.  I had a dream.  I wanted to see Him write His stories into reality so I could share them and bring glory to His name.

Guess what?

He failed.  God failed me.  The thing I was asking Him, begging Him to do, He didn’t do.  He blatantly, crushingly, incomprehensibly didn’t do it.  It would have been beautiful.  I had the whole chapter written out in my head.  It was quite dramatic, let me tell you.  Scary, tense, wistful - and this great, heartwarming perfection at the end.  I could even hear the triumphant background music playing as the credits rolled.

But God wrote something else.

A big word that I labeled FAILURE.

I yelled.  I wanted to cry.  I sat at His feet and scowled.  I told Him this: “You didn’t come through for me.  You were too late, too late to help.  I never wanted to write this.  If You’re really writing a higher story than the one I thought You were writing - well, are You allowed to fail in Your stories?  You have to let me fail.  I can’t help it.  I’m human.  But You - You’re God.  You’re supposed to fight for those who can’t fight for themselves.  You’re not supposed to fail.  Why did You?”

He responded with a question of His own.  What do you want more: your stories or My heart?

In other words . . . What am I willing to give up for the sake of staying close to Christ?  Will I give up my shopping sprees?  My bank account?  My extra shoes?  My extra time?  My home?  My comfort?  My dreams?

What am I really chasing?  Is it my version of a happy ending?  A beautiful story?  A vision? . . . Or His heart?  Am I really chasing His heart?  He is a jealous God.  If you really - if you really - desire to follow after Him, He won’t let you get away with anything less.

I want to ask you the same question God asked me.  What do you want more: your stories or His heart?  Think carefully before you respond to that question.  The answer might wreak havoc on your dreams.

The Homeless, the Warriors, and the Thieves

We’ve been staying at lots of friends’ houses out here on the road.  Glenn and Karen in North Carolina, the Long’s in Virginia, Chris in Ohio, Devin and Tia in Wisconsin.  But we’ve been meeting strangers too.  People we weren’t looking for.  People we didn’t know.  People whose paths are on a crash course with ours.  Divine intersections.

We met George.  He was walking in and out of cars stopped at a downtown DC traffic light at midnight.  He had a cardboard sign that said something about no money and food.  We sat at the light, watching him hobble along.  Then as the light turned green, we decided to do something.  I considered leaping out of the van, dodging blaring car horns and cursing drives, to get back to him.  Something right off a scene from the Bourne movies.  Instead we pulled over and walked back on the sidewalk like sane people.  We shared some bread, a bottle of water, and a smile.  God bless George.

We met Joey.  He sat at a table next to us in Portillos.  He prayed before he ate.  So as we stood up to leave, we walked over and asked point-blank, “Are you a Christian?”  That started a marvelous conversation.  Joey has a heart for the street kids in downtown Chicago.  He fights for the troubled kids, the dropouts, the ones who are lost and alone.  We shared with him, he shared with us, and the Body of Christ was encouraged.  God bless Joey.

We met Francisco.  He helped us find a safe place for our van overnight after we’d had the passenger window broken out by thieves in downtown Chicago.  He gave us the number of a guy who would come and fix it.  First thing in the morning for a quarter of the price we were expecting.  Francisco and his friends put us in the expensive, elite parking spot right in front of the hotel.  They guarded our van overnight for free.  They even got out emergency cones.  “Gotta keep you safe,” they said.  God bless Francisco.

We met Tracy.  It started with this brilliant shooting star that we couldn’t help remarking on.  Tracy was walking down the street past us, and she remarked back.  “You get to make a wish now.”  So we asked her, “Well, what would you wish for?”  Transportation.  She was walking to work.  Turns out we had something in the realm of transportation with us.  We invited her in and drove her to her job.  She was close to tears as she left us, overwhelmed that a few strangers would offer her a ride across town in the middle of the night.  God bless Tracy.

So, there you have it.  The homeless, the warriors, and the thieves.  For the record, we didn’t actually get to meet the thieves.  We just admired their artwork in the parking garage.  But even though we didn’t get to see their faces or hear their names, we still prayed for them.  As Lily put it, “God loves everybody.  Even bad guys.”  So, God bless the thieves.

Live From the Road

Here’s a video for y’all.  Week One of our Fall 2011 Dream Tour.  About a quarter of a half a tenth of what we’ve been up to.  Is anyone around here good at math?  Do you know what that means?

We’ve been blessed.  I guess that’s what we’re trying to say.  Our God said He would provide, and He has.  He said He’d watch out for us, and He has.  He said He’d be good and faithful and generous and true.  And He is.  Oh, how He is!

So, take this video as an invitation: We’d like you to share in the blessing.

(Oh, and thanks to Emily, Jenny, and Sarah for sharing your beautiful voices with us.  Your songs and hearts are an inspiration to us.)

Here's the video link: Fall 2011 Dream Tour: Week 1

No Condemnation

I have a friend.  A friend who had a dream.  A dream?  No, lots of dreams.  A different one every week.  Amazing, fantastic, beautiful dreams.  Dreams that would conquer the world . . . And then life came.  People made promises and broke them.  Dreams beckoned and became nightmares.

Have you been there?  Do you want to know what my friend did?

Picked a different dream.  Something a little safer, a little easier to reach.  Something a little less dream-like.  It broke my heart.  I got down on my knees and cried.  I cried out to the God who created us to dream, then allows dreams to be broken.  And as I cried, I saw a picture.

Do you want to know what I saw?

I saw a picture of a crossroads.  My friend was walking down the road.  It was a beautiful road, smooth and gentle, lined with happy green hills and soft flowers.  My friend was holding someone’s hand and laughing.

But Jesus wasn’t on that road.  Jesus was standing at the crossroads, beckoning my friend down a different path.  A dark path.  A rocky, frightening, lonely path.

Do you want to know what I saw in Jesus’ eyes?

Pain.

No condemnation.  No anger.  No hardness.  No regret.  Just pain.  Sorrow and sadness and heartache.  Like He was saying with His eyes, “Where are you going?  Won’t you come back to Me?”

It split my heart open.  Deep, deep down to the very roots.  Not my friend’s choice.  Not the disobedience.  Not even the giving up.  But the look in the eyes of Jesus.  That’s what split my heart open.

Do you want to know what He said?

“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”

No condemnation.  That’s what He said.  As my friend walked away, laughing.

We’ve been talking a lot about dreams on this tour of ours.  We’ve been asking people what their dreams are, where their hearts come alive, what’s got them on fire.  Many of us have buried our dreams pretty deep.  Maybe you’re one of them.  Have you ever walked away from your Savior and God?  Have you ever chosen a dream that wasn’t His?  I’ve seen the look on His face as He stares after you.  No condemnation, He says to my friend.  He says the same thing to you.