Christmas Already

 "I am the Lord's servant. May it be to me as you have said."

Mary, Mother of Jesus - Luke 1:38

A crimson flower is about as Christmassy as it gets for us at Hot Springs right now. Red and green. No snow to put me in the mood. Yes, I know snow can provoke other kinds of moods, depending on how much shoveling one has to do. For me, right now, if I'm missing anything about December in Canada it's the cozy of it.

Never mind. Soon enough I'll be as cozy as my fleece blankets and roaring fireplace can make me. We leave Sunday night (Thailand time so Sunday morning Canadian time) December 3, three days shy of a whole month away.

The impending departure intrudes my thoughts frequently in the last days. It happened last night during our closing prayer time, all the little Thai voices murmuring prayers together before we end with the doxology.

And I remembered.

Was reminded.

Days before departure, in our family room with heating pads on my back, pillows placed strategically, the fire on and gallons of water on the table beside me, passing a kidney stone, and praying.

"Lord, just please give me the go-ahead from the doctor, and the strength to brute my way through the travel and ministry demands of the month ahead."

And then the interruption.

Happens often as not, but this one was somewhat more definitive.

"Ruth Anne. You ask Me for too little."

At least, this is how I would put into English words the 'impression' that came to my mind. That I should ask more boldly.

So I did, weeping.

I asked for strength and healing so that I could fully participate in leading the Team, teaching Bible and English, preaching, worshiping together, participating in life together with my Thai family while I was away for the month of November. No barely crawling my way though it. Robust, energetic, abundant life. Please. According to Your plans and purposes.

It was a risky prayer. Because at the time I was feeling so rough. So uncomfortable. At the time of this prayer I was getting up gingerly for every trip to the bathroom, which was about the only time I got up. I was taking pain medication. I was feeling weak and woozy, and unable to sleep well or concentrate for very long because of the pain. Didn't even want to drive myself somewhere, let along feel fit enough to get on a plane and travel half way around the world.

And I remembered/was reminded of that last night, while we were praying. Remembered/was reminded of the state of physical weakness I was in then. And realizing that right now my body feels stronger and more rested than it has since I stepped out of the kayak after my last ride around the island. Yes. Like that. A 190 degree turn around from that desperate prayer day in October.

God does what He chooses to do. Sometimes bold prayers are answered with a yes, and sometimes they are not. But this one, this coaxed-out-of-me boldness for this particular need, this particular time was an all out yes.

So maybe the red flower is NOT as Christmassy as it gets around here right now. Maybe, in a surrendered state, I have received my Christmas gift already. And it is strong and beautiful and intimate and holy and fills me with gratitude inexpressible but I try just the same with as many words as pour out of my awe-filled heart.

Yes, Lord, yes.
As You have said.

When the Lights Go Out

 

Tuesday at supper the lights go out. It's a common occurrence out here in a more rural setting, even if there's no thunderstorm or other obvious cause. Reminds me of the cottage somewhat.

Sometimes, without warning, you can be left in the dark.

Supper time is also sunset, so we are immediately searching for flashlights and candles, both of which let us finish our meal. We didn't mind. There is a certain ambiance about it all.

But then the matter of evening worship time comes up.

The large meeting room where we usually gather doesn't seem like a good idea. Too much stumbling about to get there; too wide a space for little flashlights.

So we collect the children around one of their dining tables, outside under the kitchen roof. Two candles are fetched, lit, and placed in the middle. Suradet grabs his guitar... and the wonder happens.

The novelty of the blackout only adds to the enthusiasm. A rousing chorus or two, complete with an all-in table drumming effect gets us started. And then a more reflective song, repeating the phrase "sangserun Pranam, sangeurn Pranam, salaseurgn Pranam PraJesus" (praise the name of Jesus).

Because we are tightly gathered around the table, voices are strong, and joyful, and leaning into one another.

And from somewhere there comes harmonies in three parts, strong and sweet and sustained in a way that happens sometimes when we catch the Spirit's wave like this. For a second or two, with children's voices singing, and candles flickering, and worship rising I am convinced that somehow I have actually arrived in heaven.

For a second.

Or two.

The music stops and Ahjahn Ruth is to lead the devotional. My lesson on King David's big mistakes will wait for another time. There is a moment happening, and it needs seizing.

Look at the candle.
Jesus is the light of the world.
We carry His light.
The darkness cannot extinguish the light.
You have a light within you.
The light of hope and joy and strength.
The light of Jesus.

Go shine.

These are the moments when everything else makes sense. Everything good and awful together that has ever happened to me is right-sized, re-ordered, prioritized. Every ugly thing doesn't matter any more.

Because sometimes without warning you can be left in the dark.
And then comes a night of candles and singing and you realize again who you are, and what you were created to do.

This. Oh yes, this.

Little faces in the candle light.
Harmonies in a language not native to my tongue,
and the children who sing them,
owning my heart.

And yes, I think heaven will be just like this.

Birthdays Far Away

 

Me being here and you being there on your birthday ironically makes me only love you more. All you continue to do to support this beautiful love-work we get to do together now, in this era of our lives, makes everything possible.

Everything.

Soon. Soon I'll be back and we can eat cake together on the couch with the fire on, all normal-like.

Celebrating the amazing day God gave you to this planet, and the adventurous life we have together.

Happy Birthday!

Ken Breithaupt

Photo: Last July when we were here together for our 45th anniversary. Street scene at the Ping River Market.

Fresher Air

There comes a time in every trip when it all just ‘settles.’  Jet lag is really done.  Eating well, sleeping good, and I pretty much have the rhythms of the day in play.  I think today is that day.

It helps that the temperatures have dropped to a very livable high of 30C with the evenings cooling down to as low of 19C.  It’s also been a breath of fresher air in another way just to be home today with no plans other than reading to the kids when they get home from school, and learning and worshipping together after supper.  I really needed this day to catch up.

Suradet’s asked if I would preach (and he will translate) at a multi-church thanksgiving gathering on Saturday, December 2^nd.  I am already slated to preach at Hot Springs on December 3^rd.  But I said yes because it was far enough away, and, well, it’s just amazing to be given these opportunities.   There’s always so much to learn from these beautiful, tenacious believers.  And to see other church contexts is important for me in keeping a broader perspective of life and ministry in Thailand, beyond New Family Foundation.

In accepting this invitation, I am fully aware that my communications to Sponsors and Supporters has been seriously lacking this time out.  Not entirely sure why, but finding the time to sit down to the computer has been quite a challenge so far.  Hopefully now this will even out and folks will be receiving a bit more in the way of pictures and updates about the children.  That is, after all, what it’s all about.

Norma has returned to us following her visit with Esther in Phuket.  Roger and Karen remain to take Esther on a little holiday.  All are well, and we are making the adjustments as a Team, with some comings and goings making for interesting logistics.   In every Team experience, I feel I learn so much.  Hopefully this benefits those who will come on future trips.  

And sometimes, in the midst of everything, I just stop and marvel.

There was once an 11 year old girl who believed God had called her to be a missionary to Southeast  Asia.  

It took 40 years to get here.  

But I guess an eternal God has lots of time to orchestrate His plans and purposes in any way He chooses. 

Being Here

I am winded.

The robust choreography of the now-famous-here-at-least children’s song “Your Everlasting Love” will do that. Three jumps left and clap. Three jumps right and clap. Love that’s higher than the sky with arms up and wide, deeper than the see with arms down and side to side, and reaching out to me, with arms forward and back again. Then the jumps. And it keeps going.

And I’m doing it.

As little as 12 days ago, I could not possibly have imagined even being here, let alone leading us in Your Everlasting Love. And the thing is, it is. God’s love. It’s higher and deeper and reaching out in ways more than I ever could possibly deserve.

Yet here I am.

Those winded moments are not lost on me. None of it is. Not one gentle wai as they file in for morning worship. Not one glimmer of understanding when the English word patterns suddenly make sense. Not one head back laugh when a joke hits home. Not one moment of sweet heaven in the harmonies of our singing.

Because, here I am.

I do not know how long God will grant me the physical and mental capacities to continue this love-work ‘on the ground.’ It’s demanding travel, and jet lag is no respecter of age and quite the bear, truth be told. The climate is a thing too, and it’s only now, here in the middle of the month that it’s cooled down enough to not be a sweaty distraction. And even though I’ve done it often enough, and do my best to stay fit so I can jump-jump-jump-clap, the reality is that as my body adds years to its resume all of it takes its toll.

And yet, here I am.

Taking nothing for granted.

Because back in October there were some nights of pain that threatened this. Long nights that provide those deeper opportunities to press into faith and surrender. I was ready not to come if that’s what He wanted. I was.

But, here I am.

Winded.

Taking nothing for granted.

Ever.

Seven Days Between

 

Well, well.

What a week of ambiguity it's been. Here on the dawn of a truly spectacular Sunday morning, I find myself humbled by the reminder that this recent string of events has provided.

"In their hearts humans plan their course,
but the LORD establishes their steps."
Proverbs 16:9

It's been a time to 'put my money where my mouth is' so to speak (or spend), and own up to my convictions that I follow God's lead, not the other way around. Sometimes we pray as if we expect God to do things the way we want them to go. Almost as if we could tell God how to do His job.

But this week has been a 'hands up and open' exercise of faith and trust. Very intimate place to be, by the way. Fully surrendered. To be honest, I have welcomed the 'harsh reality' of pain and human frailty to bring this home again for me. Most of the time I live in relative ease, risking such claims as hollow, or merely just the things 'good Christians' are supposed to say.

This morning I am feeling stronger and more physically functional than I have in days. The only 'packing' I have left to do is all that needs to be left until the last minute anyways. Almost everything is checked off the list.

In just a few hours I'll join the 'online only' service at Highview Community, delivering the sermon about pioneer missionary to Thailand, Daniel McGilvary in the first of a series called "Lives of the Saints."

And yes, you read that right. Online only. Google Meet. We are not meeting in person as a faith community today, and that brings me to the next part of 'humans planning their course' deal.

Many folks in both congregations that met together last Sunday in our two-church service to worship and enjoy a community meal --have since tested positive for COVID. ( It's still a thing, friends.)

One of those is one of our Thailand Team Members, Megan. Yes, this means she's not going to be on the plane with us.

After months of planning and budgeting and eager anticipation.

I'd say 'I can't even', but the truth is I can totally. It's exactly the space I've been all week, waiting to hear reports from tests until got the all clear from my doctor. The disappointment cuts. It's a bit disorienting, truth be told.

And. I commend Megan for her honesty and tenacity in all our conversations yesterday, starting with the first fresh knowledge of her positive test. I'll leave it to her to tell her own story in her own ways. But this is a strong woman.

Then, to all my beautiful peeps at Highview, and also of course to my new friends at Iglesia Jesu es El Salvador, I offer my prayers and love in hopes you will be soon restored to full health. As I heard word this week, and your names came to my attention in the growing list of those affected, my heart felt for every one of you.

What a week it's been indeed.
We never know what lies between the seven days in any given week.
Good thing we know the One who does.

Between a Kidney Stone and a Surrendered Place

 

This picture is not from this morning, although it could be and I wish it was.

Right now I am avoiding too much physical exertion in the attempt to allow my body all the energy it needs to be rid of a teeny little bit of collected minerals wrecking havoc simply by being where they have no business to be. My kidney.

Thursday.

I leave for Thailand on Monday.

I know.

Today is like every other day since I first contacted my doctors (GP and urologist) about the current situation. Waiting for something definitive to happen.

It's a race between three things; the stone passing on its own (I have a good reputation here), hearing back from my doctors' offices for test results and consultation (varying degrees of reputation here), and leaving for the airport at 7 a.m. Monday morning (departure is set for 11:40 a.m. and that's the most-certain of all three things).

At this moment I am doing all that needs doing as if I am going. Of course I am. Bible Lessons planned out. ESL and teaching supplies all packed. Writing all the emails and packing all the materials and getting myself ready for the flight.

And drinking water.
Ridiculous amounts of water.
And resting my body.
And staying calm and positive.

And the last one is only because I believe in a God who loves me and knows everything, and to Whom I've given permission to use me in whatever way He sees fit.

For those of us who sing those songs in church, remember?
"Take my life and let it be, always only all for Thee."
"Where You go I'll go, where You stay I'll stay...I will follow."
"All that I am, I place into Your loving hands, for I am Yours."

Christmas is coming.
Reminds me of what I consider to be some of the most powerful words in all the Bible.
Mary's words.
"I am the Lord's servant. May it be to me as You have said."
Luke 1:48

Echoed by Jesus Himself in Gethsemane.
"Not My will, but Yours be done."
Luke 22:42

No definitive decision has been made yet.
I'll let you know as soon as that happens.
The Team is aware.
Suradet and Yupa are aware.
We're all on standby.
And I feel terrible that it's me putting us all through this.
But also humbled, in a good way.
Humanity is fragile even on our good days.
We just don't always have a "in your face" reality to remind us.

Okay, on to some more of that preparation and packing I was talking about. But first, another long swig.