I saw her again. The muslim woman. She and her family "happened" to have breakfast at the same place we were dining. We shared a bright smile - like a brilliant confirmation of all God has planned in her life. I spent the rest of breakfast noticing the similarities and differences in our families. I wanted to know if she wore her burka joyously or if it was a bondage. And I searched my heart with the same questions. A heavy burden rolled over my spirit like a cloud: "How do I pray for someone when I am so far from knowing her or comprehending her situation? I don't even know her name."
"Don't try to understand. Just pray." Came the answer.
During service at ACC, Dusty challenged us to hear the smallest voice of God. I wondered in mirth if the Thais and Nepalis present thought he might be speaking in tongues without an interpreter.
At discussion time, Rosie (Doc and Zina's daughter) relayed how they had liquidated their life in America in about two weeks, acquired their passports in eleven days and come. Then "Susie" began to share. In broken English mixed with Burmese she told the Paulean story of how God called her to Thailand with little money (about 1200 bat - or 36ish American dollars) and no contacts. Her family thinks she's crazy. She sometimes wonders if it isn't true, but God leads her and provides for her and gives her opportunities to minister. Even though I caught about every fifth word, I understood. As we held hands, she apologized that she could only pray in Burmese, but we all agreed - the Spirit interprets for us. So we prayed for one another - sisters of different circumstances chasing the same Heart. It was beautiful.
At 1 o' clock we piled into two different cars . . . And, yes, I literally mean piled. Six of us smashed into the five-person cab and four more sat in the truck bed. "If we were in America we would SO be getting arrested for this." Anyway, the caravan made its way to Krabi Town to celebrate with Pastor Ong, his little family and their church as they had their first, fully-structured service in his new home.
"Check out THAT cross!" Jeremy crowed as we turned onto Ong's street. Probably four or five feet tall, constructed INTO THE SIDE OF THE HOUSE in glass tile, was Ong's cross. I marveled at the thought that when the sun goes down in Krabi, the True Light shines through. :D
EVERY person who claims the name of Jesus should pursue AT LEAST a short term mission just for the experience of worship. The song sheets were graciously printed in Thai and English. We all exulted later at how otherworldly it was to sing the same song in at least two different tongues - at the same time! Then pastor Ong shared about God's justice and mercy (Matthew 20:1-16) while Pastor Chris interpreted (Chris, his wife April and their girls were Thai missionaries who came back to South Thailand last year - for such a time as this). They spoke about how Thailand is so steeped in the concept of Karma [Whatever your circumstances are you deserve them. You must have done something in a previous life to earn them (we in the West really need to stop jokingly using that term. It is a sad, hopeless thing to believe)] - that the Grace of God and the mercy of God are absolutely unknown to them. They cannot even hope for such a love. So when we as believers walk in these places, we truly carry the Light and the Hope. As I listened to the English and Thai and Burmese spoken and sung today... As I looked around at my brothers and sisters from, Thailand, Burma, Nepal, Georgia, South Africa, Virginia and, yes, Idaho :) I was reminded of Revelation 5:9 "And they sang a new song saying, 'Worthy are you to take the book and break its seals; for you were slain, and purchased for God with your blood men from every tribe and tongue and people and nation. You have made them to be a kingdom and priests to our God; and they will reign upon the earth.' "
Pray for your family across the world, and ask God when you are to GO. "Please send young people here to learn and speak Thai," April pled. "It's really had!" And she laughed. Pray, Connectors - and anyone reading this. When it comes to missions, we are all called to go. It's simply a matter of to where, when and for how long. Begin the ask - He will provide the details. Your family misses you. Come for a visit. ;)
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Thailand Day 4 - Unlikely People. Unlikely Places
7-11
We are NEVER awake at 5 in the morning. NEVER. Perhaps that's why we lacked the common sense to realize that feeding him our favorite Thai snacks from 7-11 was less than wise.
Sugar + 9-year-old, empty stomach = jittery at best.
It was 5 a.m. Surely there is grace for that?
At prayer time he flicked and twitched, scooted his chair loudly, broke my reverence by lovingly touching my arm and urged me to stop crying . . .
"AGH! Sugar. Empty Stomach!" I shook my head. "Lord, how do we help him see the magnitude of all this? Is it possible?"
". . . by my Spirit, says the Lord," came the whisper. (Zechariah 4:6)
Mcdonalds
"You very good teachah!" the young, Nepali man encouraged Dax as they poured over the children's book between them. Camel (my own student) laughed along. Dax and I guided their pronunciation of tough words like "through" and "bear" (Bhalu in Hindi. Yup should have remembered that one!) and they giggled at our attempts to mimic their native tongue. They shared with smiles the sad details of having to live here, alone, to find work. Ed and Ros teach them English - which raises their value at the Indian Restaurants where they're employed - and the love of Jesus.
Daxton flicked and twitched, scooted his chair too loudly, laughed with his new friends and reiterated God's love through his time and his presence. He asked them crazy, seemingly-irrelevant questions, and they all snickered together - connected by some global level of boyishness. The Spirit is vast, beyond mere "sensibility" or convention, and He is good!
The Strip
We walked the street, following Ros's lead as she called to the locals.
"Two minutes? Five minutes?" She asked in her sweet, South African cadence. They call her Mama or Madame and take their smoke breaks to read through a children's book with her.
"How much?" One taxi driver asked. His face flashed astonishment when she told him it cost nothing. In a land where Westerners come mostly to use and take, Ed and Ros shine brightly. Brittany and I sat, transfixed as she shared story after story of the Burmese, Nepalese and Thais she has ministered to: Nok - who accepted Christ just a month ago and has already led 7 or 8 others to the Lord ("That I know of," Ros laughed). The young man Dax had taught earlier - who just days ago said, "Mama, I no more Hindu. I Christian now." The ten-year-old, Garoob, who is living and working here ALONE! His mother is back in India, and he works twelve to fifteen hour days!
"I really hope Dax can meet him," she said. So. Do. I.
The Restaurant
I had to sit on the side of the bed and pray to surrender my spirit again. I don't love performing in my country - and here we were going to sing in front of people, many of whom do not even speak our language. Insecurity. Fear of seeming arrogant. Whatever it was, I gave it to Him and walked down the stairs to meet everyone else. It was during "Say Your Name" that I saw them. Just before the chorus where we break into an intense cry of the name JESUS, I locked eyes with the brilliant smile of a Muslim woman! Tears overtook me as I sang His Name - now with my whole soul and prayed she and her friend and their precious boys would hear His heart, His Spirit in His Name. I wondered if they would walk away when they realized who we were singing about, but they stayed. Rachel blasted her Celtic fiddle down the strip and the little boys danced. Zina busted out gospel tracks and shared the love of Jesus. Still they stayed. After we had all finished, Ed came to me.
"Tammi, these ladies are from Dubai. They are leaving in the morning, but wondered where they could find your music." With a humble heart I sat across the table from these two beautiful Muslim women and shared our information with them - wishing desperately I just had something to put in their hands. "It's such a blessing we heard you tonight," one of them said, "we leave for home in the morning. Your husband has such a melodic voice!" He laughed out loud (awkwardly so) when I told him she had said that. Dax held my hand as we prayed the Spirit of Christ would continue to draw them and that they might become ministers of the gospel of peace in their circles of influence.
Doc said it well tonight, "I've just learned, God doesn't usually make sense, but 'trust not in your own understanding.' " And as my boys would quote it, ". . . in ALL your ways, SEEK HIM, and HE will direct your paths." Even when you've had little sleep and too much sugar! Oh amazing, equipping and exhausting Presence of God - where will you lead tomorrow? . . .
We are NEVER awake at 5 in the morning. NEVER. Perhaps that's why we lacked the common sense to realize that feeding him our favorite Thai snacks from 7-11 was less than wise.
Sugar + 9-year-old, empty stomach = jittery at best.
It was 5 a.m. Surely there is grace for that?
At prayer time he flicked and twitched, scooted his chair loudly, broke my reverence by lovingly touching my arm and urged me to stop crying . . .
"AGH! Sugar. Empty Stomach!" I shook my head. "Lord, how do we help him see the magnitude of all this? Is it possible?"
". . . by my Spirit, says the Lord," came the whisper. (Zechariah 4:6)
Mcdonalds
"You very good teachah!" the young, Nepali man encouraged Dax as they poured over the children's book between them. Camel (my own student) laughed along. Dax and I guided their pronunciation of tough words like "through" and "bear" (Bhalu in Hindi. Yup should have remembered that one!) and they giggled at our attempts to mimic their native tongue. They shared with smiles the sad details of having to live here, alone, to find work. Ed and Ros teach them English - which raises their value at the Indian Restaurants where they're employed - and the love of Jesus.
Daxton flicked and twitched, scooted his chair too loudly, laughed with his new friends and reiterated God's love through his time and his presence. He asked them crazy, seemingly-irrelevant questions, and they all snickered together - connected by some global level of boyishness. The Spirit is vast, beyond mere "sensibility" or convention, and He is good!
The Strip
We walked the street, following Ros's lead as she called to the locals.
"Two minutes? Five minutes?" She asked in her sweet, South African cadence. They call her Mama or Madame and take their smoke breaks to read through a children's book with her.
"How much?" One taxi driver asked. His face flashed astonishment when she told him it cost nothing. In a land where Westerners come mostly to use and take, Ed and Ros shine brightly. Brittany and I sat, transfixed as she shared story after story of the Burmese, Nepalese and Thais she has ministered to: Nok - who accepted Christ just a month ago and has already led 7 or 8 others to the Lord ("That I know of," Ros laughed). The young man Dax had taught earlier - who just days ago said, "Mama, I no more Hindu. I Christian now." The ten-year-old, Garoob, who is living and working here ALONE! His mother is back in India, and he works twelve to fifteen hour days!
"I really hope Dax can meet him," she said. So. Do. I.
The Restaurant
I had to sit on the side of the bed and pray to surrender my spirit again. I don't love performing in my country - and here we were going to sing in front of people, many of whom do not even speak our language. Insecurity. Fear of seeming arrogant. Whatever it was, I gave it to Him and walked down the stairs to meet everyone else. It was during "Say Your Name" that I saw them. Just before the chorus where we break into an intense cry of the name JESUS, I locked eyes with the brilliant smile of a Muslim woman! Tears overtook me as I sang His Name - now with my whole soul and prayed she and her friend and their precious boys would hear His heart, His Spirit in His Name. I wondered if they would walk away when they realized who we were singing about, but they stayed. Rachel blasted her Celtic fiddle down the strip and the little boys danced. Zina busted out gospel tracks and shared the love of Jesus. Still they stayed. After we had all finished, Ed came to me.
"Tammi, these ladies are from Dubai. They are leaving in the morning, but wondered where they could find your music." With a humble heart I sat across the table from these two beautiful Muslim women and shared our information with them - wishing desperately I just had something to put in their hands. "It's such a blessing we heard you tonight," one of them said, "we leave for home in the morning. Your husband has such a melodic voice!" He laughed out loud (awkwardly so) when I told him she had said that. Dax held my hand as we prayed the Spirit of Christ would continue to draw them and that they might become ministers of the gospel of peace in their circles of influence.
Doc said it well tonight, "I've just learned, God doesn't usually make sense, but 'trust not in your own understanding.' " And as my boys would quote it, ". . . in ALL your ways, SEEK HIM, and HE will direct your paths." Even when you've had little sleep and too much sugar! Oh amazing, equipping and exhausting Presence of God - where will you lead tomorrow? . . .
Friday, August 23, 2013
Thailand Day 1 . . . or is it 1-3? Oh, I'm so confused!
--------(BOI)
"There are air traffic delays in San Francisco today, so you won't make that Tokyo flight. It's looking like tomorrow morning will be the earliest we can get you out . . ."
That was the FIRST thing we heard as we endeavored to make our way to South Thailand. I immediately grabbed my phone and enlisted every social media venue I could conjure, asking people to pray.
"Breathe, Tammi, breathe," I told myself, "The whole point of this is to stretch your trust level and follow the Spirit in each moment. He's got this." Breathing exercises don't seem to lower my stress level, however, and I didn't have any chocolate handy (future note to self) so I just smiled and prayed. Smiled and prayed.
Within about ten minutes the AMAZING United clerk had us completely rebooked for THAT day on a different airline (all four on the same flights, even) through Taipei rather than Tokyo. Dusty and Brittany were a little sad to be missing Tokyo this year. Dax and I were blissfully ignorant. And all of us were asking, "Where in the world is Taipei?" Apparently our world geography classes had been less than compelling.
--------(SFO)
"Are you going to Bangkok?" I figured she had picked me because I looked like the only one most certain to speak English. Her sweet face lit up at my affirmative reply, and we chatted about our problems getting to SFO, the brevity of our layover in Taipei and our hopes that we could catch our continuing flights to South Thailand. "Shaabshom," she replied when I asked her name, "But you can just call me Shabby." I'm having this funny feeling we will see Shabby again while we are here.
--------(Somewhere over the Pacific)
"What was your first name?"
"Just call me William," he smiled knowingly as he continued to tell me about his emigration from Taiwan, his journey to belief in Jesus Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit and his purpose in going back to set up care for his ill father. Surprise crossed his face when I told him I would be praying for his dad.
"You're a minister," I said, "You will be ministering to him, and you never know where someone's heart is." We blessed one another as we parted ways.
I thanked YHWH for the change in plans. I never would have met Shabby. I never would have met William or sat next to the Air Force Doctor who encouraged my son. I would not have bumped into the hurting couple who "happened" to show up in the lobby an hour after we checked in. (Jesus how would you have us minister to them?)
Long flights. Little sleep. Strained tensions. Massive God. Huge Opportunities. Great blessing. Mammoth hope. Skyped with my little family back home and now to rest in anticipation of how He might use us tomorrow. Blessings to you who are praying. He was moving even before we took the first step.
"There are air traffic delays in San Francisco today, so you won't make that Tokyo flight. It's looking like tomorrow morning will be the earliest we can get you out . . ."
That was the FIRST thing we heard as we endeavored to make our way to South Thailand. I immediately grabbed my phone and enlisted every social media venue I could conjure, asking people to pray.
"Breathe, Tammi, breathe," I told myself, "The whole point of this is to stretch your trust level and follow the Spirit in each moment. He's got this." Breathing exercises don't seem to lower my stress level, however, and I didn't have any chocolate handy (future note to self) so I just smiled and prayed. Smiled and prayed.
Within about ten minutes the AMAZING United clerk had us completely rebooked for THAT day on a different airline (all four on the same flights, even) through Taipei rather than Tokyo. Dusty and Brittany were a little sad to be missing Tokyo this year. Dax and I were blissfully ignorant. And all of us were asking, "Where in the world is Taipei?" Apparently our world geography classes had been less than compelling.
--------(SFO)
"Are you going to Bangkok?" I figured she had picked me because I looked like the only one most certain to speak English. Her sweet face lit up at my affirmative reply, and we chatted about our problems getting to SFO, the brevity of our layover in Taipei and our hopes that we could catch our continuing flights to South Thailand. "Shaabshom," she replied when I asked her name, "But you can just call me Shabby." I'm having this funny feeling we will see Shabby again while we are here.
--------(Somewhere over the Pacific)
"What was your first name?"
"Just call me William," he smiled knowingly as he continued to tell me about his emigration from Taiwan, his journey to belief in Jesus Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit and his purpose in going back to set up care for his ill father. Surprise crossed his face when I told him I would be praying for his dad.
"You're a minister," I said, "You will be ministering to him, and you never know where someone's heart is." We blessed one another as we parted ways.
I thanked YHWH for the change in plans. I never would have met Shabby. I never would have met William or sat next to the Air Force Doctor who encouraged my son. I would not have bumped into the hurting couple who "happened" to show up in the lobby an hour after we checked in. (Jesus how would you have us minister to them?)
Long flights. Little sleep. Strained tensions. Massive God. Huge Opportunities. Great blessing. Mammoth hope. Skyped with my little family back home and now to rest in anticipation of how He might use us tomorrow. Blessings to you who are praying. He was moving even before we took the first step.
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Unearth Your Idols
Heading to Thailand in T- 2 weeks. This is what He has on my heart.
Amos 5:21-26
Then, like a wounded, husband, the Rescuer stands and says, "You love ME? Why then do we dine with your exes? We do you seek their favor or shelter? Love ME. Serve ME. Worship ME. BE MINE."
Verse 23 broke my heart. I cannot imagine my Love asking me to stop singing. I do not want to get to the other side of the earth and find that my shrouded objects of worship actually overshadow their graven images. I will unearth my idols - or, rather, ask Him to do so. I will toss them into the furnace of His holiness. He is all. He is sufficient.
Psalm 32:8 "I will instruct you and teach you in the way which you should go; I will counsel you with My eye upon you."
Amos 5:21-26
21 “I hate, I reject your festivals,
Nor do I delight in your solemn assemblies.
22 “Even though you offer up to Me burnt offerings and your grain offerings,
I will not accept them;
And I will not even look at the peace offerings of your fatlings.
23 “Take away from Me the noise of your songs;
I will not even listen to the sound of your harps.
24 “But let justice roll down like waters
And righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.
Nor do I delight in your solemn assemblies.
22 “Even though you offer up to Me burnt offerings and your grain offerings,
I will not accept them;
And I will not even look at the peace offerings of your fatlings.
23 “Take away from Me the noise of your songs;
I will not even listen to the sound of your harps.
24 “But let justice roll down like waters
And righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.
25 “Did you present Me with sacrifices and grain offerings in the wilderness for forty years, O house of Israel? 26 You also carried along Sikkuth your king and Kiyyun, your images, the star of your gods which you made for yourselves.
We don't have many traditional idols in America. It is becoming more prevalent as seekers turn to Eastern religions. But those of us who say we trust Jesus would feign to acknowledge we worship idols. There are no carved images of contrived deities in our homes. We do not burn incense to or pray at the altar of any other "god." But do we?
In two weeks Dusty and I (and our nine-year-old) are heading to a land fraught with literal idolatry. I'm interested to see how my spirit will respond. I am wondering who is the more deceived. They KNOW what they worship.
Oh our idols are less garish, less apparent perhaps (though not to YHWH), but they are there. As I read this passage this morning, I imagined the Israelites traveling for decades from one wilderness to the next with these heavy, gaudy images in tow all while they had the true, LIVING God in their presence.
But how different am I? How different are we? We have buried our idols under the floorboards of our lives. We have built them into the walls of our hearts and they lie hidden, just inches under the supple, garden dirt of our souls eking their pollution into the fruit of our lives.
Yet, their arrogance cries out to God - mocks the one we say is our Lord.
"What idols do I have?" You ask. "I don't worship any other god?" But don't we?
We don't have to build an actual altar or apply conscious worship to something for it to be a god. We simply have to look to IT rather than YHWH to provide for us something we desire or even need. Shall I name some? Relationship. Approval. (or non-disapproval) Security. Comfort. Entertainment. Beauty. Food. Status. Significance. They are sneaky and subtle, but they are idols just the same. And their fruit displays an array of recognizable shades as well: Fear. Anger. Jealousy. Rage. Control. Unforgiveness. Arrogance.
Then, like a wounded, husband, the Rescuer stands and says, "You love ME? Why then do we dine with your exes? We do you seek their favor or shelter? Love ME. Serve ME. Worship ME. BE MINE."
Verse 23 broke my heart. I cannot imagine my Love asking me to stop singing. I do not want to get to the other side of the earth and find that my shrouded objects of worship actually overshadow their graven images. I will unearth my idols - or, rather, ask Him to do so. I will toss them into the furnace of His holiness. He is all. He is sufficient.
Psalm 32:8 "I will instruct you and teach you in the way which you should go; I will counsel you with My eye upon you."
(when we unearth our idols, we may be frightened by what we find...)
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
We're Going to Thailand!
Hey! We're going to Thailand!!!!! Click on the letter below to read about it. See afterward for prayer and support info!
Please be praying. If you'd like to receive video and email updates, please send your email address to: ttaylor@imconnected.org
If you'd like to support our team, go to www.imconnected.org and click on "give" in the bottom, right-hand corner. Thanks friends. We're excited to see what God will do!
(Click here for highlights from last year's trip!) Love, D&T
Friday, March 8, 2013
Wrestling to Rest: mommy heart
I won't give it a label. Because right now it's not what's important. Suffice it to say, it's this season's struggle for him. My oldest baby. My little man. My buddy.
School.
He's bright - even "brilliant" my counselor friend says. It's that aptitude that keeps him buoyed academically. The other obstacles pull at his ankles as we do our best to toss life preservers and call out swimming strategies.
We could just pull him out of the water. But we know that is not the best option. Not for him. Not this season.
And every day my heart screams. And some well-meaning person says, "Op! His nose dipped under." And I think, "Yes, I know. And if he stays under I'll dive in after him, but right now he's still fighting."
And every day I pray. And some days there are glimpses of hope. A strategy here and there that brings success. And other days there is the teasing. The tears. The look in his eye - the frustration in his voice. The anxiety that exacerbates it all.
The other week I sent him, again, into what often feels like the lion's den. And I cried and begged YHWH to please protect him, please shield him, please help him to thrive.
Then my Still, Small Voice whispered, "Beloved. How many times have you prayed - even before he was born - that I would raise him up to be a great man of God? How can that be accomplished if he never has anything to overcome?"
So I writhe in the arms of my Love. I stay my enabling hand. Aiding, but not rescuing - though every fiber of my existence wars against me. Because greater than my frail, fixing love for this prince is the love of the One who created and died for him. Because he is already precious and amazing - but overcoming these waves will make him great. And because he has a Savior who can teach him how to walk on water.
Jesus, help me wrestle to rest.
School.
He's bright - even "brilliant" my counselor friend says. It's that aptitude that keeps him buoyed academically. The other obstacles pull at his ankles as we do our best to toss life preservers and call out swimming strategies.
We could just pull him out of the water. But we know that is not the best option. Not for him. Not this season.
And every day my heart screams. And some well-meaning person says, "Op! His nose dipped under." And I think, "Yes, I know. And if he stays under I'll dive in after him, but right now he's still fighting."
And every day I pray. And some days there are glimpses of hope. A strategy here and there that brings success. And other days there is the teasing. The tears. The look in his eye - the frustration in his voice. The anxiety that exacerbates it all.
The other week I sent him, again, into what often feels like the lion's den. And I cried and begged YHWH to please protect him, please shield him, please help him to thrive.
Then my Still, Small Voice whispered, "Beloved. How many times have you prayed - even before he was born - that I would raise him up to be a great man of God? How can that be accomplished if he never has anything to overcome?"
So I writhe in the arms of my Love. I stay my enabling hand. Aiding, but not rescuing - though every fiber of my existence wars against me. Because greater than my frail, fixing love for this prince is the love of the One who created and died for him. Because he is already precious and amazing - but overcoming these waves will make him great. And because he has a Savior who can teach him how to walk on water.
Jesus, help me wrestle to rest.
Job 9:5-8 It is God who removes the mountains, they know not how,
When He overturns them in His anger;
When He overturns them in His anger;
Who shakes the earth out of its place,
And its pillars tremble;
And its pillars tremble;
Who commands the sun not to shine,
And sets a seal upon the stars;
And sets a seal upon the stars;
Who alone stretches out the heavens
And tramples down the waves of the sea;
And tramples down the waves of the sea;
Saturday, February 2, 2013
No Offense to the Neck . . .
A week or so ago, we were talking with friends about the statement, "The man is the head, but the woman is the neck and the neck can turn the head any way she wants." (quoted from MBFGW)
It gave me pause for at least twenty four hours thereafter.
Because, really?
1. It's false. The brain moves the head (and everything else, truthfully).
And 2 . . . the neck HAS no brain (of its own - the brain doesn't tend to fair well outside the head). Rather, the neck is a mindless tool which serves its purpose but mainly takes orders from the brain and houses the hoses that move things from point A to point B. Not to mention the fact that it tends to get "wrenched" easily. Do you, as a woman, want to be associated with that? Not me.
I'd rather be the heart. :)
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