Missions Conference

Every year, about this time, my alma mater, Biola University's student missionary union (the largest student-led missions organization in the country!) hosts a ginormous missions conference which all students are *highly encouraged* to attend. I only got to attend one because our choir tours used to take place during this time. However, I loved that one time. What better excuse to hob-nob with the different mission organizations, swap stories with missionaries (and everyone knows those infamous missionary stories which can take on a life of their own!), see familiar faces, and dream about all the places I'd like to go. It was more exciting for me than any job or career fair.
Little did I know that in 5 years, I would be representing one of the many missions organizations, trying to share my enthusiasm with a couple of divine appointments. Our goal is not just to recruit students for ACTION, but to perhaps be a tool to open some hearts to the possibility of serving in missions someday, whether as a "goer" or a "sender."
If you're in the area and would like to see what ACTION is doing around the world, or see ACTION celebrities, Marvin & Sara Graves, or just get caught up with the exciting happenings in missions around the world, stop on by! Our booth is the first of over 75 (it's alphabetical), and I would LOVE to see you!

A Reminder

Part of the point of this blog is to be transparent. I know lots of people who are frustrated with Christians because they seem so fake. They have it all together, never have problems, know all the answers, never doubt, etc... The only time they are real is when they have been caught in a huge scandal and have fallen WAY short of the glory of God, at which point the world is either stunned and/or disgusted. I think that this is why so many pastor's kids and missionary kids rebel; they are so sick of having to put up this facade so they make a 180 a turn and make a hard run for the opposite direction. Sad, but so common.

I want nothing more to be real, honest, and utterly transparent. This means that there are times when I will share my doubts, my fears, my failures, as well as my successes, joys, and triumphs...and I'll begin now.

As with any calling or "purchase" of an idea, object, etc...doubt is often involved. How many times have you made a big purchase and later doubted it - called "buyer's remorse." And while I've never been married, I hear about lots of cold feet leading up to the big day. It's NORMAL to doubt...and I am no exception.

After making my decision to become a missionary, I've had moments of doubt such as: Is this really a calling or just a human desire for the familiar? Why am I going to the Philippines when I have a great job with great salary, security, amazing friends, family near-by, etc... Am I nuts?!?! Sometime I feel like a fraud, thinking who am I to want to go overseas and teach moms how to take care of their kids? Who am I? I have no kids, I'm not married, not to mention that I'm a relatively new nurse without too much experience.

And then God comes along and shatters those doubts. Last week I spoke for the first time about my new ministry at a small church in Indio, CA. It was a great ice-breaker for me to get some church-speaking experience because my parents spoke frequently at this church when we would come back to the US on furloughs. I am very familiar with the church and its people.

While I was there, I was approached by the leader of the missions committee, a dear lady who has prayed for me since my birth day. With tears in her eyes she told me that her small group of faithful ladies have been praying that I would someday go back to the Philippines as a full-time missionary for nearly my entire life! I had NO idea! My parents had NO idea! No one else in the church knew...this was their secret, something God had laid on their hearts to pray for over 25 years ago. When I chose to study music they became nervous that I would be tempted by the entertainment industry and decide to stay here, but they all rejoiced when I began to study nursing, knowing that this was something that the Philippines desperately needed. They became giddy every time I returned "home" to the Philippines for a visit, knowing that God was working in my heart, even if I didn't know it.

Marie has been praying for me to go back to the Philippines since I was this big!!

How can I doubt my heart's urging to return to the Philippines as a missionary when I'm told something like this?? It just confirms that God has been working all along to prepare me for "such a time as this." (Esther 4:14) Wow.

This doesn't mean that there won't be more seasons of doubting, discouragement, and even failure, but I know that God will faithfully continue to remind me of His goodness and ultimate plan for His glory in my small, insignificant life.

Copied Post

I try to be original in my writings, but there are times when someone else says is so succinctly that there's just no point for me to try to rewrite it. The following is a (long) blog by Tara Livesay, a missionary in Haiti, who has opened her heart in her writings for the whole world to see, literally, as her blog has been used by CNN and other media agencies to tell the story of the tragedy in Haiti. She and her husband are missionaries in Haiti who jumped in with everything that they had after the earthquake. Her blog is definitely worth following: http://livesayhaiti.blogspot.com/.

Her latest entry (below) says so well what I've been struggling with. Unfortunately, missionaries have gotten a bad reputation in so many minds around the world, so much so that I often cringe when I tell people that I'm planning to become one. I often want to come up with excuses or explanations, when I should be eager to share. Tara's blog tells about the struggles of missionaries in a way I never could, and yet it's SO true. When I was doing the flood relief in Manila last October, many of her thoughts were mine...though I didn't see the same extent of tragedy that she has. Please read it...the blog's amazing!

http://livesayhaiti.blogspot.com/2010/02/missionary-wrestling-counseling-geology.html

MIS⋅SION⋅AR⋅Y
I grew up listening to and watching missionaries. Each summer we would go to a missionary conference where they would come from around the world to speak and share. That label, "missionary", has a different meaning for each of us. I don't know what it means to you, but based on your own experiences, it means something.

As an adolescent and even into my early adulthood, to me a missionary was an older couple that liked to talk and tell stories. Some of their stories were interesting, others sounded like Charlie Brown's Mom giving a long lecture. They wore clothing of the culture they lived in (and they looked dorky wearing it). They wore large, outdated glasses/frames. The woman had longer hair and wore it in some sort of bun-type style. They looked sun-tanned and weathered and veins popped out of their hands as you shook hands to greet them.

They talked a lot about how God provided and how joyous it was to serve Him. Sometimes they even told stories of death and war and destruction while still saying flowery things about God's plans and God's will. The missionaries almost never said that things were hard or that they could not hear God. They always knew where God was and what He was saying and they even seemed to understand why God allowed hardship in the lives of the people they were serving. They were packaged, holy, perfect people. They did not seem to have many questions. As far as I could tell they never felt lost, alone, afraid, or angry.

That was how I perceived them anyway. But that is not who I am. That is not who Troy is.

We've come to realize that a "missionary" is 100 different things to 100 different people. The label means one thing to you and one thing to me. Sometimes we don't want that label and other times we do.

Some missionaries still tell you that everything is perfect and that nothing is ever confusing or hard. Some will tell you that they love God but they don't understand the suffering and hardship that parts of the world continually experience. Some have head coverings and long skirts and some have tattoos and ripped jeans. They look different, they act different, they approach their work and faith differently. Labeling with this one word just doesn't work any longer.

WRES⋅TLING
As I have spent three (count them - three - Sunday - Monday - Tuesday) solid days wrestling with God on everything there is to wrestle with Him about; I've been all over the place emotionally.

In a period of an hour I've wished for and thought totally opposing things. I've told Him I love him, told Him I don't know if I believe in Him, told Him I have no faith in His power, told Him I trust Him to walk me through this. Thanked Him for redeeming me - for loving me, asked Him how He can be love when such suffering is allowed? I've begged Him to show himself, to speak, to become real to me - or better yet- to become real to the hungry, desperate, and dying Haitians. My anger has scared me and my thoughts have been frightening. I've ended up in the place where I began. I've run in circles. I've found my words and questions hollow and empty and maybe even immature. The distance I feel between my God and I scares me ... I want to sense Him close and yet I know whether I feel Him or not - He has not left me.

The lyrics of this song ('Faithful' by Brooke Fraser) came to mind-

When I can't feel you, I have learned to reach out just the same
When I can't hear you, I know you still hear every word I pray
And I want you more than I want to live another day
And as I wait for you maybe I'm made more faithful

All the folly of the past, though I know it is undone
I still feel the guilty one, still trying to make it right
So I whisper soft your name, let it roll around my tongue,
knowing you're the only one who knows me
You know me

Show me how I should live this
Show me where I should walk
I count this world as loss to me
You are all I want
You are all I want

coun⋅sel ing
Today I made some phone calls and sent a few emails seeking some help for Troy and I and the kids. On some level it bothered me and even felt a little bit absurd. The whole idea of trauma counseling is so very first world. The Haitian people would laugh out loud at this notion of "talking about our feelings" --- they have no time to think about how they feel, let alone the luxury of sitting down to discuss it with someone at 100 bucks a pop. Haitians suffer emotional trauma after emotional trauma without processing, without stopping, without grieving. How can you grieve when you've got to survive? When I think about this in light of my desire to stop having nightmares or my desire to go talk to a professional about things ... Well, it's just kind of humbling and embarrassing ... isn't it?

GE⋅OL⋅O⋅GY
Troy was recently asked, "As a man of faith, why do you think this happened?" He did not like that question very much. He only answered by saying something along the lines of, "That's not a fair question. (In other words - what the heck?!?!?) He wishes he'd been quick enough to answer "Plate Tectonics." When Isaac asked Hope a similar question tonight after dinner, her answer was pretty good. He said, "Why do you think was there an earthquake Hopie?" She looked at him, shrugged and said, "To shake things up?"

There is no "reason" for this earthquake - well, other than some tectonic plates moving around. That's all. It was not so a bunch of adoptive parents could get their kids home (like God loves them so much He sent an earthquake to get their kids home on Humanitarian Parole). It is not so the world would recognize and learn about Haiti (although I suppose that is good). It is not because God is punishing Haitians for something that happend 200 years ago in some Voudou ceremony (sorry Pat Robertson). The reason it happened is simple - uninteresting - laws of geology. We don't need theologians to tell us. We don't need to debate.

The things God might do as a result of it is an entirely different debate. I don't pretend to understand any of that. I am not the variety of missionary that understands everything God does or does not allow ... I am just the variety that tries really hard to trust Him while NOT understanding it. And while I don't understand, I can still pray. I am asking Him to write a new story of redemption, to bring hope to the hopeless, healing to the hurting, and beauty from the ashes.

-Tara

Have You Ever Wished...

This may seem like a very odd idea, but have you ever wished that you could tattoo a visible reminder on the inside of your eyelids that you and only you can see every time you blink? If there was one thing you wanted to be reminded of at least a dozen times every waking minute, what would it be?
If I could choose a word or phrase, I think I would want "THAT moment." I was reading through Paul's letter to his disciple, Titus, this morning and chapter 2:12-13 really struck me: "training us to renounce ungodliness and wordly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ" (ESV). How many of us consistently live for THAT moment of Christ's return? How about an eternal perspective? I know I sure don't. There are so many moments, probably most moments, that I would be very ashamed to have God walk in on me doing or thinking; moments where I KNOW I am not pleasing God, but do it anyways.
If I had "THAT moment" tattooed on the inside of my eyelids, I would hope that the constant reminder would give me perspective for all my thoughts and actions. The truth is, even though it's impossible to have something like this work, we DO have something, Someone, infinitely more powerful than a little ink on the eyelids; we have the Holy Spirit. Just like we would very quickly become desensitized to a tattoo, we can become desensitized to the Holy Spirit. We reduce Him to some sort of insignificant idea instead of Someone who is the God of this universe, a very real power in our lives if we just give Him precedence (Jn 14:26, 1 Cor 2:13). He CAN be that constant reminder, but I for one all too often forget about Him and try to live for God on my own.
Just a little something to think about...

"That's Not a Prostitute"

Part of the field preparation for both my church and mission agency requires reading "Cross-Cultural Servanthood" by Duane Elmer. It's taken me a while to get into this book; not because I don't think I have anything to learn but because I know I have quite a bit to learn and I'm not always eager to see the faults in myself.

It's been a quiet night on my unit and I've been able to make some really good headway into the book. One passage really struck me because I often look with disdain on people I consider "dirty." I forget that each human being, regardless of what they become, always bear the stamp of God. I've taken the time to retype the passage because I think it's that important.

"In the mid-1990s my wife and I, both teaching at a Christian college, were feeling out of touch with the needs and realities of the world. At the invitation of John Green, a graduate student, we decided to minister to people by walking the streets of Chicago one night a week for about a year. Mark Van Houten and John Green, veterans in this ministry, oriented us to street life. Walk slowly so people can approach you. Walk near the curb; alleys can be dangerous. Walk the same route each night so you become familiar with those on the streets. Read the gang symbols so you know whose turf you are on. Cross the street rather than walk around a group of people that might threaten you. We would arrive at about 8pm and slowly walk the same route each week, finally heading home about 3am.

Walking with Mark one night, I noticed a lady at the corner ahead. She was scantily clad. I turned to him and said in a voice the lady would not hear, "Is she a prostitute?" He paused; I remember thinking, Why the pause? It's obvious. Then he firmly said, "No! That's not a prostitute. That's a person...in prostitution." His profound statement affects me to this day.

When I saw this woman, I saw a prostitute. When Mark saw her, he saw a human being.

What do you think Jesus would have seen?

What made the difference in our perceptions? I tended to categorize people--homeless, drunk, drug addict, prostitute, pimp, panhandler--then I would know how to treat them: respectable vocation brings respect; disrespectful vocation brings disrespect. I decided who to accept not by the fact that they were living. Mark, however, saw the image of God in everyone in spite of their activity. This truth made everyone first and foremost a human being loved by God, accepted by Christ, sacredly endowed with dignity and worthy of being treated with respect and honor by every other human being. He accepted this person in prostitution just as Christ would." (pgs. 63-64)

When was the last time I categorically disrespected a person simply because of how I perceived them? Sadly, I do it on a daily basis. Here I am, supposedly called by God to become a servant to people the world often rejects...and I am just as guilty as the world...if not more so, because I know better! Amazingly enough though, God extends grace and reminds me that we are all works-in-progress, and that becoming aware of the problem is the first step to correction. Whew! There's still hope for every one of us. :)

How much can I handle?

Last week I walked into a murder scene...

As a nurse, and a relatively new one at that, I often ask myself how much I can handle. Meaning, at what point will I be so grossed out, overwhelmed, stressed, terrified, or exhausted that I lose it? So far my career has been pretty plush. I work on a unit that's relatively cut and dry. All our patients have expected outcomes and they usually comply quite nicely. Sure, we have the confused, the belligerent, two-faced, or sorry-I-can't-understand-you patients, but with teamwork we get through it to tell the tale. But I've always wondered what my limit is.

So last week I walked into what looked like a murder scene. There was blood everywhere: on the floor, on the patient, on the couch, on the blinds, in the bed, and just about everywhere but the ceiling. My patient was sitting glassy-eyed on the couch. Fatima (name changed) looked so confused amidst the splatters and puddles of blood that at first I wasn't sure what had happened.

After alerting the other nurses that I needed some help, we donned our gloves and went to work cleaning things up so we could figure out what had happened. When I touched Fatima's shoulder, she jolted so violently I'm sure she had been sleep walking. But first you need a little background. Fatima had just arrived on my unit 4 hours before after major back surgery. She was in excruciating pain but very much awake, alert, and oriented. With strict instructions to stay in bed and call me for help, I medicated her for pain with some potent drugs that she could control but it hardly seemed to touch her pain. The OR nurse had warned me that she had high tolerance for pain medication so I wasn't too surprised. I finally decided to pull out our biggest guns and gave her a powerful shot. Twenty minutes later she was softly snoring to my relief. I checked on her every 15 minutes to make sure she was ok while I was monitoring her heart rate and oxygen level from the nurses' station. About 90 minutes later I heard a soft alarm go off in her room which indicated her pulse was high. That's when I walked into what looked like her murder scene.

It turns out that Fatima had climbed over the bedrails, pulled out her IV and surgical drains, and was sitting pretty as you please, though slightly confused, on the couch. So much for bedrest and no twisting or turning of her back!

Four nurses, ninety minutes, 100 disinfectant wipes, new sheets, new gown, and new IV later, the room was glisteningly clean with no evidence of her crime.

Nope...it wasn't more than I could handle...so the question still begs to be asked. I truly hope I never find out.

PS - I found out that this night was the calmest night of her hospital stay!!

Important Meeting

Today included an important meeting with the missions committee of my home church - very exciting to begin on this journey. I've also been encouraged with three other local church expressing interest in having me come and present my dreams and ministry plans. Hopefully those plans start solidifying and I can begin making big strides towards building up the necessary support team for my big move.

Yesterday was spent completing a video for the birthing home I will be working with. To view the video, click here.

In other news, please be praying for Haiti. As you know, disaster relief is dear to my heart and the world's poorest nation is now crushed under buildings destroyed by the huge earthquake. One of my dearest friends lives just 10 miles from the epicenter where she lives and works at an orphanage for Haitian children. Preliminary reports are that everyone in the orphanage is ok, but please be praying for wisdom on how to help, stamina, financial support, and encouragement. Dana's blog is: http://danainhaiti.blogspot.com/

Thanks for your continued prayers and support. God is clearly moving me closer to the Philippines and you are a key part of that.