the Rock, (the rain, and the glory). part two.

The rock was just like so many of the other ones that line the rubble and trash on the side of many of the roads in our city. It was small and worn, about the size of my fist. And I couldn’t stop looking at it. After all that had happened in the days prior to this one, I learned not to count anything strange, but what is with this rock? Father, what are you trying to say?
The truth is, He was saying more than I will ever know. The 3 days prior to this one, all I could see was one thing.

Darkness.

That’s all I see, Father, total and utter darkness. He opened my eyes to it in a new way one night. Well, more like He came in and rocked me to the core – think “force of a hurricane, ferocity of a tidal wave, speed of a tornado, and impact of a plane crash” type rocking. A big one.

My eyes were opened to it, to a depth not yet realized in my 24 years. The wonderful, precious bubble of small town, church going life, it took a 2x4 to the head. Do I despise my upbringing? Absolutely not, for it made me the lover of people and mercy and sweet tea that I am today. But the Father desired to broaden that view a little more, desired to fit a bigger view of Him into my perspective.

This view, however, began with this revelation. The world is lost.

Now I know, “Duh,” is probably what you’re thinking. And well, honestly, it is what I would’ve said too. That’s not it though. I just came face to face with the evil. Face to face. And it was overwhelming, oppressive, and very, very real.

So the rock, well what in the world are You saying Father? I haven’t noticed anything but these women with their heads covered and these idols and these people in chains for days. I’ve cried and yelled and begged for you to break through. To show me You. Why this rock?
And with more force than the entire hurricane in my heart, He says this,

“It declares My glory.”

Oh, gotcha. I literally laughed out loud sitting on my motorbike, which was quite a miracle given my then current emotional state. “You’re right.” is what I said to Him. Of course, He knows that, but who doesn’t like to hear that when it’s true? And I’m so thankful that with Him, He’s always right. He’s always true. And so, from that point, He began this work. Well, not really. He began it long ago, but this season’s work, it began there. The expansion of His greatness and goodness and sovereignty started right there.

“That tree, it declares My glory.
That rain, it declares My glory.
Those clouds, that grass, those flowers, that sun? Those too.
That person, who is made in My image? Him too.”

Father generally has to start with the basics for my much loved, but so stubborn heart. And so He did. My faith was so weak, and He used a rock to cry out, “He’s glorious!”

And what’s more, that rock was an Ebenezer in this season. “Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen and called its name Ebenezer; for he said, “Till now the L0RD has helped us” (1 Samuel 7:12) Here I raise my Ebenezer, hither by Thy help I come. Thanks, “Come Thou Fount” for teaching me so much in one line of a hymn.

He literally used a rock to show me that He is the Rock. That I can bank on Him. That I can trust His glory will come through His kingdom coming on this earth, in this country, on this island, in this city. And it’s only “by His help” that I come, that I can even raise my Ebenezer. I know it’s true. When all I can see is what I see, He gives me the faith to see what I cannot see. That He is here. I can’t do it, but He can. He can bring beauty from ashes. And through the ashes my previous perspective, He is making all things new.

Whoever thought a rock could teach me all that?

the Rock, the rain, and the glory. part one.

To be honest, my life is run by “shoulda’s.” I should have done this or that. I should have tried harder. I should have looked at things from a different perspective. I should have opened my mouth. I should have kept my mouth shut. I should have, I should have, I should have.

Well you know what a lot of “shoulda’s” leave? A whole heapin’ mess of guilt. Operating like that for too long, it is one of the most crippling things I can do to myself. I know this very logical truth, yet do I still fall into the trap? Of course. I’m human. And I’m much like a man I greatly respect who says, “For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate…For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out.” And it is when I sit and think about the source that I learn more than I ever thought I would.

I haven’t written much in a long time. And there’s a good reason. It’s hard. It’s hard to write about lessons that the Father is teaching me, because most all of them these days are born out of my own brokenness. And if my life was my own, I certainly wouldn’t be writing them down for the world to read; yet, “it is not I who live, yet [He] who lives within me.” So what am I to do with that? Oh, yeah. Obey. And we are called to walk this road together, so if His work in my life glorifies His Name and causes others to do the same, then I want to share it.

Living in this country has made me closer to the Father than any other experience of my entire life. And you know what? It’s exhausting being close to Him. It really is. It’s exhausting dying every single day. It’s exhausting being poured out. It’s exhausting learning language. It’s exhausting being constantly intentional. It’s exhausting being totally and utterly dependent on Him. And you want to know why?

Because I am human. And we, as a whole, love too much our own lives and desires and schedules and plans and relationships. And the fight is what is exhausting. The fight between my flesh and Him. And in my heart, oh how I wish it was different! How I wish I would always do the thing I want to do! Yet, here we are. Me writing to you about my shortcomings and my failures. And I’m tired. I’m tired. Of me. Always getting in the way.

There’s this constant bondage to self and sin that I still walk in. Seriously, I thought I was done with that? The thing is, Father is done with that. Remember, Morgan, “It is finished.” You just never really realize fully how much we need the Good News. Every. Single. Second. And I’m learning that more and more. I’m living as a slave to something that I’ve already been set free from. How dumb is that? I mean, when you really think about it, what slave, no longer bound by the law, would still desire it? I mean, it is comfortable, because it’s a pattern. But yet, when I see glimpses of the freedom that surrendering brings, I crave it. I crave to believe that I, truly, in and of myself, cannot do it. And moreover, be okay with that.

I can’t do it.

There’s a difference in typing that and saying that, and then having to actually mean it and believe it. And these past 10 weeks, I really, totally, completely have believed that I cannot. How’s that for blowing the “shoulda’s” out of the water? No amount of striving on my part can achieve a standing with Father different than the one I already have. Innocent, holy, dearly loved, child. And in coming to the end of myself, I realize that surrendering to that, welllllll, it brings so much freedom.

I can’t do it. These 10 weeks, there has been no back up plan. There has been no B. There’s been no, “oh, I can survive this season.” My pleadings have been, over and over again, “If You don’t show up, Father, I don’t know how I’m going to do this.”

Y’all, He did. He showed up every single time.

So I feel obligated in thankfulness and humility to talk about it. To talk about what has happened in the past 10 weeks. The good, bad, and ugly.

Because I can’t, but He can.

the top button.

Then Moses said, “Now show me Your glory.”

And the [Father] said, “I will cause all My goodness to pass in front of you…”
Exodus 33:18-19

It happened. The same thing happens again and again in this place, I learn lessons that I thought I had nailed down for a long time. The goodness of our Father, that’s a new one. Growing up in a small town and in the church, while I am ever grateful and thankful for it, did lead me to have perhaps a false impression of the general state of the world. It’s bad, y’all. Some of you know that because you’re not quite as sheltered or just as self-proclaimed optimistic as I am. Generally, I enjoy seeing only the best in people, to my own detriment sometimes.

I had the opportunity recently to glean some wisdom from someone whom I greatly respect. It met me right where I was at. In living over here, I don’t know if it’s because it’s a different culture, different worldview, different perspective, or merely a different lifestyle, but it is much easier to see the world with a more realistic perspective. I feel the weight of the fallen-ness (mine and mankind’s) in a way that I had not yet realized. It can leave you questioning, well scratch that, it had left me questioning.

How can You see all this happening and remain as You are? How can You send Your own Son for this mess? How can You know and not act? How does this work, Father, because I KNOW You are good, but I can’t see it?

Enter Psalm 73.

“Truly [He] is good to Israel, to those who are pure in heart. But as for me, my feet had almost stumbled, my steps had nearly slipped. For I was envious of the arrogant when I saw the prosperity of the wicked…”

Asaph’s being totally honest. He knows of Father’s goodness, but he’s struggling. He writes on to talk about how he just sees desolation, wickedness, and slander. And Asaph, man, he just can’t see it. He knows it, but he can’t see it.

”But when I thought how to understand all this, it seemed to me a wearisome task, until I went into the sanctuary of [Father]; then I discerned their end.”

Good job, Asaph. Go into the sanctuary. Isn’t that what we all need? To go into the sanctuary. Fix our eyes on JC, and look at eternity. Their end is not our end.

Asaph resolves,
“Whom have I in heaven but You? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides You. My flesh and my heart may fail, but You are the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”
And…
“But for me, it is good to be near [Father]…”

Stay with me for a few more minutes, friends. I love the progression. I know Father is good. I can’t see it, but I know it. I’m struggling because of all this wickedness, my own and in the world. I go into the sanctuary. I ask Father to reveal Himself. He shows me. There is no one but Him, and then for me, I see Father is good. He is good, and for me, He is good.

The transformation that the goodness of Father has in our lives is imperative to seeing.

The Father uses His goodness to proclaim His glory.


Just like Moses, when he asked to see Father’s glory, what did Father show Moses?
His goodness.


That’s the core, the central truth to all of it. That’s the basis for all my other judgments of the attributes of our Father. This greatly respected man I was telling you about, he calls it “the top button.” Like when you’re buttoning your shirt, how did you learn? Do you start in the middle? Not normally, because then you wind up at the end with an extra button or an extra hole and the two sides of the shirt are out of whack. You start at the top when you button your shirt, so that everything lines up, even until the end.


His goodness has to be the top button. Then, when things knock you down, when conflict or struggle or battle comes, when this world is overwhelming, your top button is still buttoned. His omniscience, His justice, His mercy, His omnipotence – they all come through the lense of His goodness. He is good, and I don’t know how this current mess all plays out, but I know the end. I know He’s good. His goodness proclaims His glory. And that’s what He’s all about.


The top button is buttoned.

24 years.

Welp, it happened, a few weeks ago now. I grew another year older. To be honest, this year felt very different than many years in the past. Why is that, you ask? Well, I believe it has something to do with the millions of beautiful brown people that surround me on a daily basis. They got me thinking about what I’ve learned, specifically in this past year of life. What I discovered though, is that this lesson themes throughout my entire life.

Now may the God of peace who brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, the great shepherd of the sheep, by the blood of the eternal covenant, equip you with everything good that you may do his will, working in us that which is pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen. 

Hebrews 13:20-21

All of that verse is exceedingly, abundantly true. I know that because I know that the Word is inerrant, but I also know that because I have lived knowing that Father has, is, and will do all of this working in my life.

What I can’t get past though currently (not that I want to), is that He is “the great Shepherd of the sheep.” Let’s learn together, shall we?

shep·herd/ˈSHepərd'Noun: A person who tends and rears sheep.

There are a lot of shepherds in the good book. There’s Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, the twelve tribes, Moses, King David, Amos, and of course the shepherds to whom the birth of the Son was announced. Not to mention, the King of kings – the Word calls Him the Good Shepherd (John 10).

What does a shepherd do? What have all of these people done throughout the course of His story? They have taken care of the sheep. That’s obvious, one might think, but to grasp the magnitude of this fact is no small task. And in 24 years, I’ve just learned only a fraction of how much a shepherd cares for his sheep, how much my Shepherd cares for His sheep.

The One who walked this earth as a man, who bore my sin, who rose on the third day, who defeated death, who reigns victorious, who always wins, who is all-powerful, all-knowing, all-present, this One takes care of me. He is my shepherd. In all of my life, in every season, He takes such good care of us. He knows us. He knows how to comfort us, how to provide for us, how to encourage us, how to refine us, how to make us like Him.

“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep (John 10:11).”

That is no small thing.

the good, the bad, and the “HORAS!”

I don’t know if I’ve told you about my neighbors. Oh, my sweet, sweet neighbors. Next to my house, there is a kos. A kos is like a dorm, with young people renting rooms and sharing a main living area, kitchen, etc. Well, most of the students that live in this kos belong to the Batak tribe. If you spend much time on this island, or in this country for that matter, you’ll quickly understand the reputation that follows this tribe. To be honest, most of them seem to be quite proud of the loud, overpowering, sometimes stubborn, almost manic preconceived notions that characterize the people of their culture. It’s true though. Most of the time, I really enjoy these Batak people. They are a little more my style than the quiet, reserved, always so gracious people from another tribe here. Now, of course, with everyone on the planet, sometimes you just need a break.

My neighbors, while I love them, sometimes drive me crazy. They love to sing, LOUDLY. It does not matter how much or little talent you have either. Most people here, they have some mad guitar skills. Seriously, it’s impressive. I can handle that. They are loud, no doubt, but I generally stay up later than they do, so I have a hour or two of quiet after they’ve gone to sleep.

What I didn’t anticipate is what noise filled my room a few weeks ago. It’s pretty early in the morning, maybe around 7ish. I wake up to a new noise, almost like a recorder. Who plays a recorder that isn’t in elementary school or a music education class ? I don’t know. I remember my roommate learning to play some songs on one while we were in college. Good times, ha! Anywayssssss, that’s what I hear at 7 a.m. Not only that, but in all seriousness, it is the theme from “The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly.” I kid you not. Although mornings aren’t my favorite, I laughed out loud at the reality of what was actually happening at that moment.

As far as the weeks after that, it became less and less amusing, until this weekend. We went to one of the treasures of this country – a beautiful lake only a few hours from my house.






See what I mean? Gorgeous. The photographs don’t even come close to doing it justice. We went for one of my national friend’s birthday. I did a lot sitting, a lot of reading, a lot of coffee drinking, and a lot of listening to Father’s voice. We even went out on bikes and explored a little. We ate some of the most delicious fresh fish. It was wonderful. One of my favorite parts was Saturday night. They had a traditional Batak song and dance night. Around 7 p.m., 5 beautiful girls and a full band showed up. We sang, danced, laughed, and had an awesome time.




It was in the midst of all of this carrying on that I noticed one of the instruments…somewhat foreign in appearance, but the sound was so very familiar…the recorder. Well, the village version. All of a sudden, the annoying sound I hear every morning became very different. Now, don’t get me wrong, it will still be less than welcomed sometimes, but I see where it comes from. Honestly, I see where the people come from. You see, there are about 3 million people that live in my city with me – my loud, harsh, overbearing, very crowded city. Those people aren’t far removed from this place though - the village.


And in seeing where they came from, I understand more and more about them. The more I know them, the more I love them. The same is true of our Father. The more I know Him, the more I love Him. Out of that also, the more I know Him, the more I love them. In knowing Him and knowing them, I grow to love them more and more.


As I was a participant in one of the traditional dances, one of the sweetest old men I’ve ever met spoke to us (in English, impressively!) about the meaning of one the the words in the Batak language here. Each tribe, aside from knowing the national language, also has a tribal language. I’ve heard them use “Horas!” as a greeting, but I’m not sure if anyone had ever explained to me the full meaning. Come to find out, it’s because it can mean just about whatever you want it to mean, “’Horas!’ can mean ‘Hello, Greetings, Good to see you, Good luck, Good-bye…”





For me, it served as a precious reminder of the rich beauty of these people and this culture. What a good Father to give such a real reminder of His goodness in this place. What a great privilege it is to serve Him all the days of my life! And although there is an ocean between me and much that I love, I know that I would never have traded moments like that night.

Yes, LORD, walking in the way of your laws,
   we wait for you;
your name and renown
   are the desire of our hearts.
Isaiah 26:8

the voice.

I’m laying beside my little buddy and we’re talking about his day. One of the many joys of living in this city is being able to hang out with this one particular family of four. Tonight, it’s just me and the kiddos, and I still count it all joy.

“So how was your day?” I asked.

We talk about random things – playing with trains, making messes, eating McDonald’s, and then we decide to tell stories. I chose to let the Good Book help me out a little. We said some prayers, and I tell him that I’m still going to be here after he falls asleep, and he can come get me if he needs anything, that I’ll be close by.

Then he asks to call his Dad. Not out of the norm, which his Dad had already told me. I dial the number and hand him the phone. “Hey Dad…I love you Dad…I wanted to tell you goodnight Dad…okay…I love you Dad…” That’s all. No crying, no whining, no anything. Just wanted to hear his Father’s voice.

And after that?

Peace. He goes straight to sleep. He’s not upset. He’s not stalling. He just hugs me and says goodnight.

I started thinking. In the same way, how much do I long to hear the Father’s voice? How much peace and rest comes in knowing that He speaks and He listens? How precious is the joy of knowing that He is always there and I can always call upon Him?

My little buddy didn’t need to see his Dad. He didn’t need reach out and touch him. In that moment, all he needed to do was to hear his voice. That was enough.

And y’all, it’s enough for us. It is His voice that constantly reminds me that “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen,” as it says in Hebrews 11.  My buddy didn’t have to see his Dad to know that he existed. He knew his Dad enough to know that his voice was the guarantee that He is. There was peace simply knowing that his Dad is.

The same is true of the Father. We don’t, with our human eyes, see the Father, but we know that He exists. How? Because He speaks.

    Ascribe to the LORD, O heavenly beings,
        ascribe to the LORD glory and strength.
    Ascribe to the LORD the glory due his name;
        worship the LORD in the splendor of holiness.
    The voice of the LORD is over the waters;
        the God of glory thunders,
        the LORD, over many waters.
    The voice of the LORD is powerful;
        the voice of the LORD is full of majesty.
   
The voice of the LORD breaks the cedars;
        the LORD breaks the cedars of Lebanon.
    He makes Lebanon to skip like a calf,
        and Sirion like a young wild ox.
    
    The LORD sits enthroned over the flood;
        the LORD sits enthroned as king forever.
    May the LORD give strength to his people!
        May the LORD bless his people with peace!
(Psalm 29 ESV)

We know He is because He speaks. And His voice, it fills His people with peace. It is filling me with peace when I’m far away from friends who are struggling. It is filling my friends with peace after they lost their unborn baby, with peace as the literal storm rages on the other end of the island, and with peace in my family’s heart even though we are miles apart. There is peace in the assurance that the Maker of the universe is our Father, “and we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28).

Peace comes from knowing and hearing His voice, believing all that He is and all that He has said He will do. And sometimes a little boy and a bedtime routine have to remind me.

And he awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. He said to them, “Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?” And they were filled with great fear and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”
(Mark 4:39-41 ESV)

strangely familiar.

As of today, it has been four months since I stepped foot on this island. As of today, it has been four months of changes – changes in language, changes in living, changes in eating, changes in loving, and, most importantly, changes within. There are a lot of things here which become more and more normal as I live here, and there are other things that will never cease to feel foreign. Also, there are things that I have forgotten used to be normal for me. So today, in honor of my new normal, and for your reading enjoyment, I’m going to list some of these things out.


Things I don’t say/do/hear anymore:
1. “I wonder if I need a sweater.”
2. “I wonder if this is spicy.” (Answer: It is.)
3. Drive in a lane. What are lanes?!?
4. Get everything in one place.
5. Choose. In a lot of different things. You get what you get and you don’t pitch a fit, right Mom?
6. Sit in an air-conditioned house.
7. A lot of people who’s first language is English. This is still weird to me.
8. Brush my hair…because my hair is hardly ever straight. This curly, “Hagrid-like” mop on my head is untameable, I tell ya!
9. “I wonder if they have rice.” Ere’body’s got rice.
10. “That was way easier than I thought it was going to be.” Okay, so maybe this phrase isn’t totally removed from my vocabulary, but it almost is!


Things that I do/say/hear now that are the same(ish):
1. Drink a lot of coffee. This activity might have exponentially increased now that I live on coffee island.
2. “I love you.”
3. Smile. Cheesy, I know, but it is the same in every language!
4. Sannnnnnnnnnnnng. A lot of singing goes on in my house, in the market, on the street, in the mall…
5. Sweat, although this too, has exponentially increased. And dry season is just starting…
6. Get mail. Although now, it is exponentially more treasured and exponentially more wonderful! Also, it is sometimes exponentially more difficult to receive…but get it I do, one way or the other! I have some good “get it done” genes!
7. Go to the  mall. Eat, shop, buy groceries, see a movie, and, my personal new favorite, go to ACE Hardw@re. I go to ACE and pretend I’m in T@rget. Is this bad? Don’t answer that.
8. Take a shower. Although now, almost every day I take two. You can’t get into your bed at night with SE Asian dirty feet (or I can’t anyway)!
9. Cook. Yummmmmmmmmm. I’m going to miss having so many cheap fruits and veggies! Although you won’t see the likes of too many pre-made sauces, soups, or anything of the sort around these parts!
10. Live my life. I’m the same. I have the same shortcomings and the same country accent (which sometimes turns ghetto). I still love to be crafty and compassionate and colorful (especially my fingernails). I still love the same things and the same people; Father is just growing my heart to love even more.


Things I say/do/hear now that I didn’t before:
1. “I’m gonna take a becak to the market.” Go to the mall and the market in the same day.
2. “Does this milk have to be refrigerated?”
3. Argue with my driver over 30 cents. (Translated – “I am not paying 80 cents to get there! The normal price is 5o cents!”) Haha, it matters!
4. Have my feet exfoliated (eaten) by baby fish!
5. Kill multiple ants on a daily basis.
6. Eat food off a cart from the street. (Yes, I know the risks. Yes, I’ve suffered from the risks. Yes, I still eat it. YUM!)
7. SPEAK IN A DIFFERENT LANGUAGE! Oh yeah! And oh yeahhhhhh, still working on that one. Daily.
8. Celine, Whitney (RIP), or some 90s boy band playing in stores and on the street. On a daily basis. Also, the little eating place at the end of our street plays The Beatles! It’s so nice to walk out to “Love, love me do…you know I love you…”
9. Avoid large, LARGE holes while walking down the street. My roommate may or may not have fallen in one during rainy season.
10. Have cats (and other animals) live on my roof, on my terrace, and in my yard.
11. Live with a bunch of geckos (known here as cicaks :: chee-chaks) crawling on my walls. They have the cutest little babies! We have 3 that live in our kitchen, a couple in our living room, and a whole bunch on the awning above our front terrace. They eat bugs…terima kasih cicaks!
12. Think that a meal that costs more than $5-6 dollars is REALLY expensive! We like to float around the $2-3 category.
13. Have someone tell me I’m beautiful every day. I’m really going to miss this one!!
14. “That massage was so cheap!!”
15. Personally, one of the weirdest, yet most normal, but still most "alerting" things I hear every day is the call. The call happens 5 times a day, every single day, and it is a call for Muslim people here to pray. It ranges in length, and no matter where you are, there is a masjid close enough by where you can hear it. The first one starts around 3:30 AM. The last finishes around 8:00 PM. Here’s a brief moment:

THE Masjid.

Some days here are harder. Some days here are just the same. And, maybe, some days here might even be easier. But what I know is this: Every day is worth it.


Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to [the Son], the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of G0d. Consider Him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted.
(Hebrews 12:1-3)