Preacher Appreciation Day!

I don’t generally pay any attention to the special days on the calendar. However, I was studying my calendar the other day (I wonder why…? =D) when I noticed “Clergy Appreciation Day.” Okay, the word “clergy” sounds Catholic, so I’m changing it to “Preacher Appreciation Day.” It’s sad when we have to make special days to remember people and their important offices. Would to God we were always thankful people and didn’t need to be reminded of these things! So, anyway…I just wanted to write a post and praise the Lord for the great preachers He has put in my life.

As a little girl and teenager, Pastor Bruce Craig was my pastor. I’m thankful for him and all he has meant to our family. I remember a time years ago when my dad was on deputation, leaving us children at home with Mom (her bad health made traveling very difficult). I had a tooth that was loose and simply refusing to fall out, but I was afraid to do anything about it, and Mom was too grossed out to help me pull it. Finally one day my mom brought me into Pastor Craig’s office and asked for help. After having a look and assuring me everything would be fine, he popped it out of my unsuspecting mouth with one smooth motion. Gone! Not only was Pastor Craig good at preaching, but he also made quite an excellent under-cover dentist for a distressed little girl with a stubborn tooth. We never did find it! (chuckle)

Mrs. Craig went to be with the Lord in 2006, which changed a good many things. Though I have childhood memories of her being quite stern when the children were running around or playing behind the pulpit (praise God for that!), Mrs. Craig was such a dear lady. I now look back and understand her much better from an adult perspective. I’m even privileged to have some books she gave me on my bookshelves. I look forward to giving Mrs. Craig a big hug when I get Home! Her testimony has always been a blessing to me, because it is so similar to mine. I believe she never was sure exactly when she got saved, but she told everyone she knew she was because of 1 John 3:14--“We know that we have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren.” One thing was sure--Mrs. Craig loved her church! They say that behind every good man is a good woman. In the case of Pastor and Mrs. Craig this was very true! I am so thankful for the influence they have had on my family and in my life.

For the last 14 years, since we left for the mission field, my dad has been my pastor. It has been a blessing to experience Christian pioneering as my parents left everything familiar and comfortable to go to Holland, breaking a fresh trail on hard, rocky soil to reach a barren mission field with the gospel of Jesus Christ. It has been no small feat, and for this my parents have my undying devotion. Have you ever wondered how a path is formed through dense forests or unending prairie lands? A single man or woman makes a hard decision, having two choices--to take the well-trodden path of least resistance or break to new ground destined for better things and greater achievements. Those who have similar courage follow behind these brave souls! This is how great things are accomplished for God! Maybe…one day, the Lord will see fit to give me this great privilege of breaking spiritual ground as well!

I love being a missionary-pastor’s daughter! It has been the greatest blessing in the world to be raised in the home of a preacher, daily saturated in God’s Word. My dad is such an inspiration to me as I see him walking the daily Christian life. We have had people leave our church because they felt Dad was hypocritical (who isn’t???) or they didn’t agree with his Bible stand and instead of approaching him about it, chose to get angry and spread hate. Sure! Dad makes mistakes, because he’s human. But from everything I have witnessed first-hand, my dad is a godly man and the stands he takes aren’t easy. When going against the grain you can expect plenty of splinters! Dad preaches Bible and he preaches hard, but when dealing with people on a one-to-one basis his kind words cannot be resisted by anyone who is walking with God. I know from experience how true this is. My dad is one of the most godly, kind, gracious men I know. I’m proud to call him my daddy and my pastor! I love you, Dad! =)

In about 6 months I’m going to have a new preacher! I’m looking forward to becoming a member of Truth Baptist Church and having Pastor Buddy Maynard as my shepherd. In April 2008 our church got to hear Bro. Buddy preach for the first time, and I’ll never forget what a blessing it was, especially since we don’t get too many special speakers in from the States. It was refreshing to hear someone backing up what Dad has been preaching all along! I love that old-fashioned, squirm-in-your-seat kind of preaching, which is something that many churches have lost with compromise. I haven’t gotten to hear too much of Bro. Buddy’s preaching as of yet, but I know that he has one fine son, who is also a preacher, and that says a lot. I’m so thankful that this missionary-preacher’s daughter is going to be marrying a preacher’s son. Russell is a good preacher…my very own “preacher boy.” (I always thought that was a cute term and wanted to use it to one day describe my best friend in the whole wide world. I always wanted to marry a preacher!)

I would also like to mention that names of Youth Pastor Jim Krohn, for his influence in my life as a teen during visits to the States, and Pastor S. M. Davis, for his detailed preaching on courtship and the strong stand he takes on the Christian home, marriage, and the family. His online sermons have had a tremendous impact on our family. I am also thinking of Pastor & Mrs. Jim Green in Charlevoix, MI. I don’t know Mrs. Green very well personally, but my brief encounters with her have left my heart warmed by the sweet presence of God’s spirit surrounding her. I could continue listing off the names of so many preachers and preachers’ wives who have touched my life. I just want to say how thankful I am to these precious people and the Lord for all His goodness! May they continue to stand strong for the Lord Jesus and not succumb to compromise with this world!

“For God is not unrighteous to forget your work and labour of love, which ye have shewed toward his name, in that ye have ministered to the saints, and do minister.” Hebrews 6:10

Courting ~ Day 4

Friday, July 17, 2009



In the van on the way home from our Belgium trip, Russell suggested that we begin having devotions together, so we started that on Friday morning. After reading our Bibles together, we shared our stories about how God told us we are going to get married. I mostly shared my story, since Russell had generally told me his on Wednesday night. I showed him parts of my journal, and something I wrote threw him for a loop. Then he told me something that threw me for a loop. We were both surprised to discover that our hearts are burdened about something--the exact same thing. We sat there feeling a little shocked and excited. It was just more proof to me how God has been leading us along, merging our two paths into one for the future He has in mind. Without ever talking about it, both my mom and Russell's dad have had this same strong feeling as well. I'm almost sure there will be more on this subject at some point in the future, but for now it is between Russell, myself, and the Lord.

After spending a few days together, we decided it was time to let our family and friends in on the big secret. So, we spent some time writing emails and sending out pictures. That day it seemed that the phone was ringing off the hook, emails began pouring in, and our blogs' Feedjit went ballistic with visitors.

Russell and I had discussed some general wedding plans when we were kayaking on the river on Thursday. After walking home from the grocery store with Mom, we got a few more details working out and settled on the month of April for our wedding date. Russell and I made tacos for dinner, and we got to eat on the patio in the backyard again.

See Russell's picture post (HERE).

The Blood

I woke up this morning with some interesting thoughts. Actually, I wasn’t even fully awake when I was having them. Once I was fully awake I found myself wondering if they were a part of my dream or if I had really been thinking them with a fully-conscious mind. Strange, but then, if you knew the kind of things I’ve been dreaming lately, it may not seem so odd. It’s so true what Ecclesiastes 5:3 says. “A dream cometh through the multitude of business.” For the last couple of weeks my dreams have been a strange mixture of imagined circumstances stemming from subconscious fears I didn’t even know existed and the disturbing realities of life. Waking up is quite interesting when I have to sort out what is true from what seemed so real that I thought it was true. Sometimes I think it might be less exhausting to not dream at all. I don’t know how it is with you, but when something is bothering me it is the very first thing to hit me when I wake up. It’s like getting slammed full-force in the face with a baseball bat. I think a physical blow might be more bearable than the emotional knockout.

Some of you already know about little 2-year-old Silas Blackburn. He is the youngest of 8 children belonging to Bro. Nick and Mrs. Karen Blackburn, who are on deputation preparing to go to the Congo as missionaries. Just about two weeks ago they found out that little Silas has an aggressive form of cancer and has a 25% chance of survival. Humanly speaking it seems impossible that the little guy will live…BUT GOD… Is anything too hard for God?

For more information and regular updates you can visit these links:
Mrs. Karen’s blog (mother of Silas): http://www.kdforthecongo.blogspot.com/
Mrs. Kim’s blog (member of Truth Baptist Church): http://www.cherishedheritage.blogspot.com/

The thoughts that triggered this post stem mainly from this shocking situation with little Silas. The Bible tells us that the life of the flesh is in the blood (Leviticus 17:11), which, of course, is a scientifically and medically proven fact. The doctors suggested a blood transfusion so Silas could grow stronger and have a better chance to fight against this disease. Bro. Buddy, who is the Blackburns’ pastor, and his three boys, among several others from the church, have given their blood for Silas. After giving his blood, Bro. Buddy preached a message on the blood, comparing the amazing make-up of human blood to the astounding sin-cleansing power of Christ’s blood. It was great preaching! This past Sunday Bro. Buddy sadly mentioned that his blood had somehow not been used within the amount of time that it would have still been considered “good.” It had expired and gone to waste. I felt so sad when I heard that, and I could tell Bro. Buddy was sad too. And this it what caused me to think about the things I want to share with you.

About 2,000 years ago, Jesus Christ, the pure and sinless Son of God, allowed himself to be sacrificed as the spotless Lamb. He allowed Himself to be falsely accused, degradingly spit upon, cruelly mocked, beaten beyond recognition, and then nailed with spikes to a rough, splintered cross. His suffering was immeasurable. Never had anyone endured the agony that Christ willingly bore on that cross. Not only was His earthly body wracked with excruciating pain, but His mind and soul were tormented as well. As His life’s blood flowed in streams from that old rugged cross, the face of each and every person that had ever been born or would be born, passed by Him. He saw my face. Your face flashed before Him. And every sin that had been committed or ever would be committed by the entire human race was placed in His body. Jesus took upon Himself the sin of the whole world. Think about how guilty and miserable you feel when you know you have done wrong. Perhaps there was a time when sin built up in your life until you felt crushed under the burden of guilt. Multiply every sin you ever committed and its guilt feelings, times the sin of a person’s lifetime, times the lifetimes of all the human population that had ever been born and was to be born. Don’t you think that would be enough weight to crush the soul? This emotional turmoil was added to the physical torture Jesus Christ endured on the cross. The One who knew no sin and was incapable of sinning suddenly had the sin of the whole world thrust upon Him. Willingly, He accepted our sins into His body. He took my place and your place on that cross and died so that we wouldn’t have to be thrown into Hell--the punishment for our sins. Jesus paid a debt we could never pay! Christ won a victory that we could never win! GLORY to GOD!

Similar to little Silas, I had contaminated blood. I was sick with sin. But Jesus Christ gave me a “blood transfusion,” taking my polluted blood and giving me His sinless blood. That thought renders me speechless. When I was sick in my sin, Christ offered me a gift no one else could ever offer. He gave me the gift of salvation--eternal life--purchased with His blood. You know, this morning I was thinking about Bro. Buddy. He gave his blood for Silas, but it was carelessly misplaced and wasted. I thought how sad Bro. Buddy must have been when he discovered that the blood he had gladly offered to save Silas was apparently taken for granted. Blood is blood! Bro. Buddy sacrificed some of his essential life’s fluids. That’s no small thing! In a similar way, Jesus Christ gladly offered to give us His blood to save us from dying and spending an eternity in Hell. Some have heard the glorious tidings of Christ’s love and accepted this blood gift for their salvation. These have eternal life. Others have been made aware of their sinful, dying condition. Their response has been to uncaringly refused the life-giving blood offered to them. These have rejected Jesus Christ’s gift. If Bro. Buddy felt sad that his blood had been wasted, how much more must Christ sorrow as His blood is treated with careless disrespect and utter distain? Those who reject Jesus Christ might as well be pouring out His blood in a puddle in the dirt. God will surely judge those who so casually spill the precious blood His Son shed so that they might live. “Be sure your sin will find you out.” Numbers 32:23

Then I got to thinking about those who have given Silas blood. I know there are many people who are praying and hoping beyond hope that he will come through this. His family and friends are affected by this, but think about those who have given some of their blood to Silas. They have put something that was personal and highly valuable into that little boy. Surely, they have taken a special interest in his condition and are more adamant than ever that he should live. I hear my dad’s words playing in my mind. “He has to live! That little boy just HAS to live!!!” My dad has prayed, but he has not even given his blood, and he feels so strongly that little Silas has to pull through this. Imagine how those who have given their blood must feel! Now think about it in this light. When God looks at us, he sees the blood of Jesus Christ flowing through our “veins,” as it were. Anyone who has received Christ as their Saviour has had a spiritual blood transfusion. That bad blood is gone. The pure, spotless blood of Jesus has replaced it! As Christians, the purifying blood and healing work of Christ should be evident in our lives. We are no longer sick with sin, so why would we act as though we are? What must God think when He sees a Christian who has returned to the world like a dog to its vomit? Why would anyone choose to be sick once they have experienced how truly wonderful the blood’s healing is? Those who have given their blood to Silas are rooting for him to LIVE! They have sacrificed something for that little boy, therefore his life has become extra precious to them. In the same way, Jesus sacrificed His blood for each and every Christian, and our lives have become extra precious to Him. Jesus has invested His blood into our lives. He wants to see us LIVE and not die spiritually! Little Silas can’t choose between living or dying, but YOU can, Christian! It is in your power to determine whether you are going to live to be a victorious Christian or if you are going to be a lazy, good-for-nothing, dead Christian. You have the choice! You have to recognize the fact that you OWE it to Christ to live for Him. He invested His life’s blood into the healing of your soul. Can you hear His voice almost pleading, as a mother bent over the crib of her sick baby? “You HAVE to live! You have to LIVE!!!” To choose to die would be to say that Christ’s sacrifice wasn’t sufficient. His blood wasn’t powerful enough. What He had to offer was below your standard of acceptable. Would you dare? Would you dare to slap His face?
Are you going to live? The choice is yours.

Those are just some thoughts about the greatest Blood Donor this world has ever known. Now I’d like to talk to those who have benefited from blood and also those who have been called and volunteered to donate their blood unconditionally to the cause of Christ.

You know, we often refer to our church as a hospital. We attract many sick people with many varying sicknesses. Those who are wise continue to come to the “hospital” for their weekly treatments, insuring their health with regular doses of “medication”--preaching and fellowship. The pastor, his family, the deacons, the teachers, those who do odd jobs and cleaning--these are the blood donors, the doctors and nurses in the “hospital.” There are many others who are working in the “medical service.” Missionaries and evangelists are just a few who cross the country or move to foreign fields, exhausting their life’s supply of blood for the livelihood of others. Have you ever thought to thank those who have invested their life’s “blood”--money, time and energy--on your behalf? No man lives on an island. There has to be somebody who has touched your life in such a way that you were never the same afterwards. Have you shown your appreciation to that person? Out of ten people, only one leper thought to return and thank Jesus for His healing touch. Perhaps you could make it your objective to be that one leper. Perhaps you could be the one to revive your “blood donor” so he/she has the energy to continue pouring out service to others. “Heaviness in the heart of man maketh it stoop: but a good word maketh it glad.” (Proverbs 12:25) It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Just whisper a meaningful “thank you.” You may be surprised to see tears of joy for the quiet acknowledgement on your part. What a better world this would be if more people would only show a little gratitude!

Growing up in the ministry, I know just how draining and utterly exhausting it can be to be pouring out “blood”--time, money, energy, sacrificed dreams, etc., etc.--into people who don’t seem to care. If you’re in the ministry you know what I mean. Sometimes you just get downright sick of it (no pun intended). How many times have you found yourself silently asking this question: “Is it really worth it?” You’re on a lonely mission field, with family and friends 6,000 or more miles away without the faintest notion of how terribly alone you are. Their own lives continue on as usual, meanwhile you feel as if yours will never be the same. They could never fully understand what you are going through. You’re traveling the road constantly, going from church to church. You have a “home church,” but you don’t feel truly at home anywhere. The once or twice a year that you stop in, you have to introduce yourself as if appearing for the first time. You see new faces, meet new people, but there are few lasting relationships of any value. You long for the secure feeling of “belonging” somewhere…anywhere. You’re ministering to a church where the people are cold and dead and have no desire for God’s Word. You feel that your work is in vain as people fill the pews of a cold church building and that’s where they stay. No volunteers for extra ministries. Nobody wants to teach Sunday school or watch crying babies or go door-to-door or stand for Christ publicly. You wonder if there are really people with beating hearts inside those human shells. Do they have ears? Does the preaching register? Perhaps it might be more profitable to preach to a brick wall. As the pastor’s family you feel like the weight of the entire church ministry is not equally distributed but is divided, instead, on the shoulders of a few 3 or 4 people. You feel like you are pulling and pushing people to cooperate instead of everyone helping along, pitching in happily. Going to church becomes merely a habit, all joy lost, for nobody else is joyfully entering the house of God. You try to be cheerful, but after a while your tiny flickering coal loses its warmth. Going to church is a drudgery. If only others would participate and get excited…like when a game is on or ice cream and cake are being served. And you ask yourself this question: “Is it really worth it?” All these varying circumstances…all so different and yet the same. You feel imprisoned. Lost in a bubble of time. Trapped in God’s will.

These cases are not pure speculation. I’ve seen this over and over and over. I’ve experienced this personally. You get tired of the ministry? Yup! I never claimed to be perfect! Giving “blood” can be exhausting business…especially when I wonder if anyone cares or is benefiting from it. Is it wrong to want to see a little fruit for our labor? Is it wrong to want people to reACT to the preaching instead of simply warming a chair? No, I don’t think so. And sometimes I find myself frustrated. Sometimes I find myself asking “Is it really worth it? Is it really worth the sacrifice?” By faith I have to believe that it is. God knows that I can think of plenty of other places I’d rather be than here in spiritually dead Holland. God knows I’d like to see souls saved and Christians caring for something other than their own little lives. I sometimes wonder if anybody even cares that we have invested 13 years into the cultivation of this spiritually barren plain. Does anybody care that I would rather have lived in the States, attending a beautiful church building, having lots of friends my own age, and living close to family? People can’t grasp that kind of sacrifice. I couldn’t if I wasn’t in these shoes. And then I have to remind myself that I’m not here for these people. I’m here because God asks me to lend my life to Him. It’s not about ME anymore. My life is supposed to be Christ-centered, God-enthroned. Fellow laborer, are you exhausted from your endless labor? Does it seem that you’ve given the very last drop of your life’s blood for the cause of Christ and the health of those surrounding you? If you have depleted your stores, then return to the cross. Get a glimpse of Calvary! Draw your strength anew from the fresh flowing tide and bathe your soul in the life-giving blood of Christ. There is a fountain filled with blood drawn from Emmanuel’s veins. Go to it! Refresh your soul, weary one! There is power in the blood of the Lamb!

______________________________________________________

Are You Exhausted Spiritually?

“The everlasting God…fainteth not, neither is weary”

Exhaustion means that the vital forces are worn right out. Spiritual exhaustion never comes through sin but only through service, and whether or not you are exhausted will depend upon where you get your supplies. Jesus said to Peter ~ “Feed My sheep,” but Him gave him nothing to feed them with. The process of being made broken bread and poured-out wine means that you have to be the nourishment for other souls until they learn to feed on God. They must drain you to the dregs. Be careful that you get your supply, or before long you will be utterly exhausted. Before other souls learn to draw on the life of the Lord Jesus direct, they have to draw on it through you; you have to be literally “sucked,” until they learn to take their nourishment from God. We owe it to God to be our best for His lambs and His sheep as well as for Himself.

Has the way in which you have been serving God betrayed you into exhaustion? If so, then rally your affection. Where did you start the service from? From your own sympathy of from the basis of the Redemption of Jesus Christ? Continually go back to the foundation of your affections and recollect where the source of power is. You have no right to say ~ “O Lord, I am so exhausted.” He saved and sanctified you in order to exhaust you. Be exhausted for God, but remember that your supply comes from Him. “All my fresh springs shall be in Thee.”

My Utmost for His Highest, Oswald Chambers

The Hot Water Bottle

I've just started reading He Gave Us a Valley, the autobiography of Helen Roseveare, a missionary doctor to the Congo. I did a search for her name on the Internet and happened upon this true account--the story of a dying baby, a child's prayer, a hot water bottle, and a doll. I couldn't get through it without misty eyes. God's power never ceases to astonish me. I hope you find this a blessing, as I did, and an encouragement to trust God always.

______________________________________________

THE HOT WATER BOTTLE

- A True Story By Helen Roseveare, Missionary to Africa -

One night, in Central Africa, I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but in spite of all that we could do, she died leaving us with a tiny, premature baby and a crying two-year-old daughter.

We would have difficulty keeping the baby alive. We had no incubator. We had no electricity to run an incubator, and no special feeding facilities. Although we lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with treacherous drafts.

A student-midwife went for the box we had for such babies and for the cotton wool that the baby would be wrapped in. Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle. She came back shortly, in distress, to tell me that in filling the bottle, it had burst. Rubber perishes easily in tropical climates. "...and it is our last hot water bottle!" she exclaimed. As in the West, it is no good crying over spilled milk; so, in Central Africa it might be considered no good crying over a burst water bottle. They do not grow on trees, and there are no drugstores down forest pathways. All right," I said, "Put the baby as near the fire as you safely can; sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts. Your job is to keep the baby warm."

The following noon, as I did most days, I went to have prayers with many of the orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle. The baby could so easily die if it got chilled. I also told them about the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had died. During the prayer time, one ten-year-old girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt consciousness of our African children. "Please, God," she prayed, "send us a water bottle. It'll be no good tomorrow, God, the baby'll be dead; so, please send it this afternoon." While I gasped inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added by way of corollary, " ...And while You are about it, would You please send a dolly for the little girl so she'll know You really love her?" As often with children's prayers, I was put on the spot. Could I honestly say, "Amen?" I just did not believe that God could do this. Oh, yes, I know that He can do everything--the Bible says so--but there are limits, aren't there? The only way God could answer this particular prayer would be by sending a parcel from the homeland. I had been in Africa for almost four years at that time, and I had never, ever received a parcel from home. Anyway, if anyone did send a parcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? I lived on the equator!

Halfway through the afternoon, while I was teaching in the nurses' training school, a message was sent that there was a car at my front door. By the time that I reached home, the car had gone, but there, on the veranda, was a large twenty-two pound parcel! I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could not open the parcel alone; so, I sent for the orphanage children. Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly. Excitement was mounting. Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were focused on the large cardboard box. From the top, I lifted out brightly colored, knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out. Then, there were the knitted bandages for the leprosy patients, and the children began to look a little bored. Next, came a box of mixed raisins and sultanas--that would make a nice batch of buns for the weekend. As I put my hand in again, I felt the...could it really be? I grasped it, and pulled it out. Yes, "A brand-new rubber, hot water bottle!" I cried. I had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that He could. Ruth was in the front row of the children. She rushed forward, crying out, "If God has sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly, too!" Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she pulled out the small, beautifully dressed dolly. Her eyes shone: She had never doubted! Looking up at me, she asked, "Can I go over with you, Mummy, and give this dolly to that little girl, so she'll know that Jesus really loves her?"

That parcel had been on the way for five whole months, packed up by my former Sunday School class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God's prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator. One of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child -- five months earlier in answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring it "That afternoon!"

And it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear." Isaiah 65:24

Missionary Christmas Banquet 2008

We just arrived home from a wonderful weekend trip to Germany. Each year Rhein River Baptist Church, in Mannheim, Germany, an American base church, which is pastored by Bro. Tom Lancaster, hosts a Christmas banquet for missionaries all across Europe. Our family went last year and enjoyed it very much, so this year we talked our missionary friends, the Kamps, into joining us. I’m just going to write a little blurb about each day.

Friday, Dec. 5
After a 5-hour trip, we arrive at the Central Hotel where we were shown to the Presidential suite, which included a living room, a small kitchen, 2 full bathrooms, and 3 bedrooms. It was absolutely gorgeous! The Lancasters’ motto must be “nothing is too good for our missionaries,” because they spoiled us rotten. Except for gas costs and food on the road, our entire stay was paid for by the kind people of Rhein River Baptist Church and some folks in the States who wanted to help out. Now this is what I call a ministry! We are so grateful to these sweet people of God.

After unloading the van, we hurried to get ready for the Christmas banquet. Dad and Joe looked so handsome in their suits. My two handsome guys! =)














The banquet was a blessing, and I personally enjoyed the program and the preaching even more than last year. (Last year we didn’t stay the whole weekend; I’m so glad we did this year.) On the podium was a huge Christmas tree and multitudes of red poinsettias. The decorations were beautiful!!! I can’t even imagine how much work was put into it!

Bro. Clarence Sexton, founder and president of Crown College, was the guest speaker this year. The minute he said he had been studying Charles Spurgeon’s life for 40-something years, I knew I liked him; Spurgeon is a hero of mine. Before he began preaching, he spoke briefly about the college and made it very clear that he is willing to give extra help to missionaries’ kids who would be interested in the college, but he doesn’t want them to go there if it isn’t God’s will for their life. I greatly appreciated that. I have never felt that it was God’s will for my life to leave my family and go to college in the States. God has placed this in my heart since I was a young girl. In the past my sister and I have been put under major pressure by folks in Christian circles to go off to college, and we have been snubbed because we do not feel this is how God is leading us. Education has become a god to this world, and this warped thinking pattern has even penetrated the minds of Christians. Some feel that if you don’t plan to attend college something must be wrong with you. One thing I greatly fear is that it has become so “normal” to go off to college after high school that many Christian teens go simply because it is “the thing to do,” or else they go for wrong reasons, such as to find a spouse. Adults should be encouraging teenagers to seek God’s individual will for their lives instead of expecting them to be just like everyone else and do what everyone else is doing. I deeply respect and admire Bro. Sexton for doing exactly that--instructing us to find and do God’s will!!!

Before Bro. Sexton got up to preach, Bro. Lancaster, who is the pastor of Rhein River Baptist Church, looked over at the teen table and kindly but firmly told the teens to behave. This is one of his “Lancasterisms,” which he shared with us and I liked so much that I wrote it down: “Have nothing to do with a boy who tries to entertain you during the preaching.” Amen!!! Let me tell you, a young man tried that on me once, and it disgusted me beyond words. No decent Christian boy will ever do that! And no decent Christian girl will stand for it! Okay, enough said. =)

Bro. Sexton’s message was a blessing. You would expect a college president to speak with great flourishing, profound words of eloquence, but what I loved about Bro. Sexton’s preaching is that he got down on your level and spoke, not to your head, but to your heart. That was God!!! He preached from Proverbs 14:3, a message entitled, “Keep the ox and clean the cradle.” The Lord spoke to my heart about loving our people more and not getting tired of the work or annoyed with the people. There is a difference between getting tired in the work or of the work. I’ll be honest; the ministry isn’t a bed of roses, and I don’t always have the right attitude about it. God, help me! The preaching was an encouraging reminder to plunge into our work with joy. Without that element of joy, serving God is a drudgery, and that’s not the way it should be! Thank God for the preaching of His precious Word!


The missionaries all receive gifts after the preaching, and then Bro. Lancaster ended the special service by tearfully thanking his people and his dear wife, who had made everything possible. I don’t know Bro. Lancaster very well, but he has made it so clear that he loves missionaries and his church is the best church in the world, which is how every pastor should feel about his people. That, too, made a big impression on me. I sure love Bro. & Mrs. Lancaster!!! They made it so clear that they were overjoyed to have us come. Throughout the weekend they made it their goal to shown the love of God to many battle-weary missionaries who needed to be encouraged so they could go back to their field of service and continue fighting on. By the time Monday rolled around, I was chomping on the bit to go home to Holland and carry out the promises I made to the Lord.

Sat. Dec. 6
Today Josiah celebrated his 15th birthday! After each one of us got ready for the day, we sat Joe on the couch, sang happy birthday to him, and then I presented my card to him. On Thursday I made him a replica of an Apple Mac Air. He wants to buy a Mac someday and is always going on and on about how wonderful they are, so I thought I’d humor him. (chuckle) In the van on the way down to Germany I was teasing him about buying him a black gold-covered Mac Air for his birthday. Well, when he woke up on his birthday I told him I would be sending him his birthday card via email. As he sat on the couch with his eyes closed, I placed my laptop birthday card in front of him, saying, “I did send you a birthday email, but I don’t want you to check it on that computer; I want you to check it on this one.” His face lit up when he saw it, and then he understood all my teasing the day before. (chuckle) That was fun!!!

They were serving breakfast at the church at 9 a.m., and soon we were headed for the church. We sat at the same table with the Kamps. Already some of the missionaries had left, and by the Sunday night service there were only 5 or 6 families remaining. Bro. Lancaster got up and asked if we had enjoyed our breakfast, which I had! The morning service started out with a short Master Club children’s ministry presentation.

They were having problems in the sound booth with the sound quality. We were sitting at the table right in front of the sound booth, so Josiah, who is the soundman in our church, helped by pointing out the problem. As Bro. Lancaster returned to the front podium, he leaned over at our table and said to Joe, “You’ve got a job!” I was so proud of my little brother! He was assistant soundman until our soundman/deacon left the church this summer. Since then, Josiah has sorta been thrown into fulltime service in this area. Now he is also the administrator of our church’s website--a job he also inherited as others have dropped out. I’m so thankful and proud of my baby brother. May God bless Josiah for his faithfulness and perseverance in exploring a field he has never been trained in. I guess we know now why he has this exceptional knowledge and interest in the area of electronics! =) Praise God!

As little later, as Bro. Lancaster asked for testimonies, Mr. Kamps stood up and said he was thankful to work with the Huussen family, and then he pointed out that it was Josiah’s birthday. Everyone sang to him, and Bro. Lancaster pointed out that it was Josiah who got the sound system working for them. He blushed with all the attention.

Bro. Sexton preached two messages in a row, about the Shepherd and shepherds (pastors), and his second message was about the ruin of a nation. He pointed out that the ruin of a nation isn’t a crashing economy or the world crisis everyone fears. It’s a lost generation. What a very sobering message!!! I thought about the children in our church. What is going to become of them? They are growing up in one of the filthiest cities in the world and attend godless public schools. Unless God does something, they will surely be lost…for all eternity. Oh, that the preaching was ablaze with the fire of God’s power, that parental awareness to the lost souls of precious children would increase, and, oh, that I would be a shining light in these young lives!!! I’ve realized that things need to change. Things need to change in my thinking…and in our church. The work we do is useless unless the power of God rests on us. Bro. Sexton pointed out that the responsibility rests on the shepherds. The shepherds fail to follow God and the sheep wander without a shepherd. There is a great lack of shepherds today. Where are the shepherds? Where are the shepherds???!!!! Where are the preachers? Who will feed the flock of God? Where are the preachers of this next generation? I see so many young men carelessly throwing their lives away, so unconcerned about the work of God. There is no seriousness in a matter that should be taken so seriously. I want to shake them from their slumbering state and scream, “DON’T YOU CARE?!” What will it take? Dear God! What will it take? God hears my sobs and sees my broken heart. Somehow…somehow He will ordain to Himself ministers of His Word. And those who loved themselves more than their Master will not receive the rewards that could have been theirs. God will raise up other men, better men, and the work will continue until the coming of Christ. God doesn’t need us, but He chooses to use us. Blessed are those who make themselves available for service!

Before closing the service, Bro. Lancaster listed off several good restaurants in the area. When he mentioned the Italian restaurant I looked at Joe, knowing that was where we would be eating. It seemed to be a mutual thing with the Kamps as well.

Then all the men immediately set to work getting the table and chairs in the right order for the church service on Sunday. Mom, Lydia and I fellowshipped with several of the ladies, including Mrs. Lancaster, who made us feel so welcomed, and Mrs. Sexton. They are both dolls. Mrs. Sexton encouraged us, and especially Lydia and me. Lydia and I also got to talk with Hannah and Shannon, sisters we had spoken to at the banquet. They both seemed very sweet! Before we left the church, I gave out the mini banana bread loaves I had made as gifts for Bro. & Mrs. Lancaster and several other missionary folks we had met. When I gave one to Mrs. Sexton, she embraced Lyd and me in a big hug and wished us a Merry Christmas.

We went back to our rooms, and Joe opened his gifts. Then Mom and I sat in the kitchen and ate some snacks and talked for a while. It was pleasant. Meanwhile, Dad took a nap. Lydia and I chatted with Clay and Aaron for a few minutes, and then the Kamps dropped by for pumpkin cheese cake.









Then we walked to that Italian restaurant. Getting the drink order straight was quite an interesting ordeal. (chuckle) I felt bad for the poor waiter; we had a hard time understanding each other. It seems to be a standard thing, in Belgium and Germany at least, to serve carbonated water when you order water. If you’re ever in one of these countries and you’d like water and hate carbonated water as much as I do, then be sure to ask for water without gas. (chuckle) What a to-do!!! As is typical for a European restaurant, I think they were a little overwhelmed when 11 people walked in. They just aren’t used to serving large groups. As if we weren’t enough, soon another large group of missionaries arrived as well. The older man, who seemed to be in charge of the place, was very nice and obviously took a liking to us girls. His looks reminded me of Mr. Potter on “It’s a Wonderful Life,” only he was very nice. By the time the meal was over, Annika and Grace were both beyond exhaustion, and I wasn’t feeling too well myself. Mr. Kamps led us on a walk back to the Central Hotel. It had been raining a little when we walked to the restaurant, but thankfully it wasn’t raining on the way back. I was in bed early that night; a nice change!!! =)

Sun. Dec. 7
Church was such a blessing!!! I can’t wait to tell you about it! As we entered the church auditorium, Bro. Lancaster greeted us warmly. He is so sweet! I got to fellowship with Hannah and Shannon and a few others for a second before the service started. The Sunday school hour was good. Bro. Sexton emphasized the need to go to Sunday school and listen to the preaching not for yourself alone, but so you can go out and pass it on to somebody else.

Bro. Sexton’s morning message was called “Work out your own salvation.” God really dealt with me about my lack of love and the seizing of opportunities to talk to people about Christ. He said we were saved for a purpose. Salvation isn’t the end; it’s the beginning. We should be working out our salvation. During the invitation I went up front and rededicated myself to God, to work for him with more enthusiasm. I know I’ve been letting things slip lately and have been half-hearted about by obligations in the ministry and my service to the Lord. I don’t like that, and I don’t feel glad in my heart or right with God when that happens. I want to be used!!!

The spirit of God was moving in that place in a mighty way. During the invitation a couple in Bro. Lancaster’s church surrendered to be missionaries to Romania. One of the preachers in the congregation was crying as he went forward and shared a testimony and some encouraging words with the couple. I don’t think there was a dry eye in the place. It was so special. I’ve never witnessed something like that before. Be in prayer for the Calin family. Such sweet people!

A delicious spaghetti dinner was served in the fellowship hall for all the singles, unaccompanied, and the missionaries. The brother who had surrendered to the mission field, Bro. Calin, announced that he would take people to Worms to see the church where Martin Luther was tried. That sounded pretty neat. I’m a history buff.

We and the Kamps followed Bro. Calin and his wife in the church’s van, filled with singles who wanted to see Worms. After about 20-25 minutes of driving we arrived in Worms and parked in a car garage under a huge mall. It was beautifully decorated. I would’ve loved to have stayed and looked around the place. It was so pretty and reminded me of Midtown Plaza in Rochester, NY. See my little mouse friends? =)









We walked through an open Christmas market where people had set up little wooden booths and were selling Christmas decorations and candy. Mr. Kamps bought a bag of roasted chestnuts and we all had one. It was hot and tasted like potato. It was interesting. Not bad, but not my favorite either.

Bro. Calin and his sweet wife, our “tour guides,” showed us a plaque outside a modern building, which used to be an inn where Martin Luther had spent the night. Then they showed us a statue of Martin Luther with his famous quote on it. “Here I stand; I can do no other, so help me God.” Then we looked at an old house that used to belong to a leather maker. There was some beautiful engraving in the fancy wooden doors. Then walked towards the huge Catholic cathedral where Martin Luther was tried. We stopped to view the actual place and the plaque where Luther stood (the outer buildings of the church no longer exist). Then we went to the cathedral.











On the way there Annika realized that she had lost her tooth and was bleeding. She was all panicked, poor thing. Lydia told her it meant she was growing up, and she tried to be brave. Not long after that she was proudly displaying her “toothless” to me and telling me all about it. Little cutie!!!






Inside, the church was sorta eerie. It was very dark with candles lit for the dead and statues everywhere. Some of them were pretty, but, as Mrs. Kamps pointed out, all that beautiful work was done in vain. I’m so glad I know the truth. Praise God! I don’t have to light a candle for Oma, and I don’t have to count beads and pray to dead saints, and I don’t have to confess my sins to another judging human being. I can go boldly right to the throne of grace. I’m so glad to be a Baptist! Bro. Calin showed us how some of the “holy” statues were making a devilish, heathen sign with their fingers. Creepy! On the outside of the church building were horrible faces engraved into the stone. They were quite scary looking! Then some of the folks in our group went downstairs and found stone coffins down there. It was wonderful to walk out of that church. How depressing!!! Church is supposed to be an uplifting occasion of praise and worship to God!

From there we went to an ancient Jewish graveyard where we saw two Jewish men praying at the graves. There was no logical order to the stones, and many were falling over or where so corroded by the weather that they couldn’t be read. There were many interesting stones. Ones that had hands engraved on them were the graves of Jews who were from the lineage of Aaron. Very interesting! There were some grave stones in the shape of tree trunks and one that looked like an altar that Jacob or Abraham would have erected. All this time I got to fellowship with Christy, a nice young woman who had flown in from the States to visit her sister and to be there to play her violin and help out with the banquet. I really enjoyed her company.

We had time to stop at our hotel for a little bit and eat something quickly and freshen up before going back to the church. The night service was as wonderful as the morning service. Bro. Lancaster’s granddaughter sang a touching song called, “I Came to Love You Early.” That song was my testimony! What really broke me up was seeing Bro. Lancaster sitting on the podium in the background, crying as his granddaughter sang, not about a sinful past that she had been delivered from, but about her salvation at a young age, when she came to love Jesus early in life. That was a real tearjerker. Praise God!

Bro. Sexton preached the evening message, entitled, “Digging and Dunging” from Luke 13:8. He talked about how God digs around in our lives, constantly disturbing our soil, and He “dungs” us by enriching our soil with blessings. I had some personal thoughts on this. Dung isn’t nice. It smells bad, but it has a good purpose. God bring things into our lives that may seem bad to us, but they enrich our soil. I thought about the many times God has dug around and “dung” me to bring more fruit from my life. I thought about one unpleasant situation in particular and how that really helped me, even though I wouldn’t have chosen to go that path. God works all things together for good to them that love Him.

After the preaching Bro. Lancaster had the remaining missionaries come to the front. The church sang about never saying good bye in glory, and then the members of the church walked by and greeted us. The people of Rein River Baptist Church are special indeed! What a privilege to know them!

This is a picture of my friend Christy, and the other is my precious family!!!















Spaghetti leftovers were served in the fellowship hall, but we never made it in there. My mom, Lydia and I spent time in the auditorium fellowshipping with Christy and her mother. We had such a nice talk! It was very enjoyable. By the time we left the church it was getting late. We met up with the Kamps at a McDonalds for dinner. I got a delicious grilled chicken salad and fries. The Kamps gave Joe his birthday gift, and then we went to our hotel rooms to sleep.

Mon. Dec. 8
After eating breakfast at McDonald’s with the Kamps, we got on the road at around noon and arrived home at 6 p.m. What a wonderful trip. It was a time of spiritual refreshing for me personally. God spoke! He encouraged me and corrected me. And now I’m going to obey! I’m thrilled to be home! Home in Holland! =)

13 Years on the Mission Field

I can hardly believe that today is 13 years since we arrived on Dutch soil as missionaries to the people of Holland. I was 7-years old. Being that young I didn’t fully grasp that the preparations taking place around me--the flurry of activity, the packing of our belongings--meant we were really leaving everything I had ever known. I still remember the day I arrived home from our church’s Christian school and found men from our church loading the huge container in our driveway with all of our furniture and boxes of our things. I still remember what dress I was wearing (that’s a girl for you, ha). I remember finding Mom and Oma sitting on the living room floor tenderly packing our old Dutch clock. All this was new and exciting to me; I didn’t realize that life, as I knew it, was about to change forever.

November 7, 1995.

It was decided that our grandparents (my dad’s family) would fly with us to Holland. It was their homeland (my dad was born in Holland and lived there until he was 12-years-old; my mom’s father is also Dutch). Everyone in our home church, Southeast Bible Baptist, came to say good bye to us at the airport. I was excited, a little overwhelmed, and suddenly feeling a new emotion--fear. I was beginning to understand that my family and I were leaving. We were going to some country far away, and I wouldn’t see those I loved for a very long time. My best friend/cousin Jason and I hugged each other long and hard. Hot tears streaked our cheeks and our faces were red and swollen from crying so hard. Saying goodbye to Jason, my lifelong buddy, was the hardest thing I had ever done. Goodbye. In the next 13 years that would become a word familiar to each one of us. The sorrow of parting wouldn’t get much easier, but the intense ache would lessen with time, and God’s grace would be sufficient to carry us through.

I remember the first time we stepped foot in our new house. Dad had gone ahead months earlier to rent a house and do some work to make it livable for us. Thanks to my dad’s aunt and uncle, we had some lawn furniture and cots; the container full of our belongings was on a ship and wouldn’t arrive for several weeks. I remember how bare the house seemed. It echoed. There were no curtains in the windows; three potted house plants sat on the kitchen windowsill, shielding us from the prying eyes of neighbors and mothers who walked past our house to bring their children to school. I remember hiding behind one of the plants and curiously peeking at people. They looked just like I did, but they spoke a language that sounded strange to my ears. I remember one day Lydia heard a little girl crying outside. She went and told my dad, who asked what the little girl was saying. Lydia shrugged and replied, “I don’t know. She was crying in Dutch.” =)

Our first night in Holland we walked through the dark night and fog as thick as pea soup to a nearby snack bar to buy our dinner. Already I was realizing that this country was so different from America. We were starting a 13-year-long journey through the unknown, battling culture shock, homesickness, and loneliness.

Our container arrived on November 23rd, which was Lydia’s birthday as well as Thanksgiving Day. Mom introduced my dad’s aunt and uncle to the traditional pumpkin pie. A miracle happened that day. We only had a limited time to unload our things before the container would be hauled away. We knew virtually nobody in this foreign country. My dad was the only one strong enough to lift heavy furniture. Who would help us? We knelt down together on the living room floor and prayed. The answer to our prayers arrived when a group of men from the Salvation Army volunteered to unload our belongings--our only link to home. God came through for us!!! That was the first of many miracles God would do to show His love to the Huussen family and prove to us that we were in the very center of His perfect will. As we sat down that night to the Thanksgiving meal Mom had prepared, we were grateful to be together as a family, though our hearts ached with homesickness. That first holiday away from family and friends was hard…and harder on Mom than the rest of us. Every “first” was hard, but it would slowly get easier.

During those first few months we worked hard to get our house in order. Our only means of transportation was the bus, since we didn’t have a car, and there was nobody to baby-sit us children, so we went everywhere Mom and Dad did. I remember riding buses so packed with people that there was standing room only, and at times it felt like the bus was going to tip. Poor Mom had her hands full watching over three young children while carrying groceries and window shades and other bulky house supplies. I honestly don’t know how my parents managed it. Only by God’s grace!

Our days were filled with activity as we worked on the house, but Sunday was our day of rest. It was Sunday that homesickness hit the hardest. There was no church we could go to, and there were no Christians to fellowship with. For all we knew we were the only Christians in all of Holland. We felt totally isolated. Our Sundays consisted of dressing in our Sunday best, Daddy would play the guitar while we sang hymns, and we would listen to preaching tapes. That was our Sunday service. Silent tears of homesickness coursed Mom’s cheeks and dripped into the sudsy dishwater as she washed dishes and remembered what Sundays used to be like.

Looking back, I would be lying to say that those first years were easy. Fact is, they were hard. Because we were from the States, and especially because people knew we were Christians, we endured ridicule or were totally ignored by our neighbors. Playing in our backyard, the neighborhood children would throw stones at us and steal our toys. (Thank God for Papa, who put up a fence around our yard!) Mom grew used to having no close friends to confide in and go shopping with. I remember one night when I quietly walked into the bathroom as Mom was shaking a sheet out of the bathroom window. Outside I heard the laughter of one of our neighbors as she came home from spending time with one of her girlfriends. Instinctively I knew the stab of loneliness Mom was feeling. She turned around, and we just looked at each other. We didn’t need words to express our hearts. I hugged her, and I think we both cried some. I remember many times when Mom would sit me down on her lap and we would cry together. Our mutual homesickness drew us to each other. One blessing that came from our move to Holland is that our family was thrown together. There was nobody else. We only had each other. I thank God for this! Today I can say that the members of my family are my best friends. I wouldn’t have it any other way!

One of my favorite songs is “I Could Not Do Without Thee,” and one line that always speaks to my heart says, “Weakness will be power if leaning hard on Thee.” Many times in our lives God has to take us out of our comfort zone and bring us to the end of ourselves and our human resources so that we can experience the supernatural power of God’s strength--a source that is never depleted. Throughout these 13 years we have been forced by difficult circumstances to lean hard on God. When the government was threatening us because my parents chose to home school, God intervened miraculously. The Lord woke up my dad during the night and told him what to write. He sent the letter off, and we have never heard about it since. Our neighbor lady, who happened to work in the education department, informed my dad that the woman who was giving us problems about home schooling went insane and lost her job. Don’t stand in God’s way!!! It’s a dangerous place to be!

There are so many stories I could tell you about God’s wonderful provision and protection for our family. Now, 13 years, two churches, and countless converted souls later, I can say we have learned a lot, and mostly just by plunging in and doing what needed to be done. Of course we have made mistakes along the way, but we serve a gracious and merciful God. For that I am thankful!

To think God has chosen our family to serve the people of Holland. What an honor and a privilege it is! Sure, living on the mission field is a struggle, but for every trial we have faced, God has given us unlimited blessings and an outpouring of grace to get us through. Never pity a missionary! Living in the center of God’s will is the very best place to be!!! If I could rewind my life back to 13 years ago and start over, I would have to say that I’d do it all again!!!

I want to share a poem I wrote several months back. I think it goes well with this post.

God has blessed me with many friends so dear.
Most live far away, while others are very near.
Across the great expanse of the Atlantic Ocean,
Distance cannot quench my heart’s deep emotion.

I’ve a special love for each person in my heart,
Even though we find ourselves living apart.
The years pass us by and much older we grow;
Many things have changed, but this I still know:

God works all these things together for good,
Even though at times I have not understood--
The loneliness, the longing that goes unfulfilled,
While the work of the Lord we are trying to build.

The sacrifice of my desires I am willing to make;
I know the highest goals of the ministry are at stake.
This country, spiritually desolate, for laborers does cry;
These people, so precious to God, we cannot deny!

We’re in it for the long haul, and that gives me a thrill.
For the Gospel of Jesus Christ we’ll stand steadfast still.
Though some would persuade us that we should go home,
The choice isn’t ours to make; it’s up to God alone.

I know that it’s hard on our friends and family, too.
We know the pain, for we suffer as they do.
But we have a blessed assurance of reunion one day;
Separation and tears will never factor in, nor dismay.

Glorious day of redemption, I see it drawing nearer!
I feel His peace within my soul as Heaven grows still clearer.
We’ll be together forever in that wondrous Home on high.
And sorrows we once experienced, to them we’ll wave good-bye.

We’ll rejoice for all eternity as the faithful and obedient.
What sometimes seemed like fruitless effort was oh so expedient!
The sacrifices we made on earth will suddenly seem so small,
As God’s praise is poured upon us because we answered the call.

And if God should ask of you today,
“Would you go to a land so far away?
Would you your will to Mine bend?”
What would you answer Him, my friend?

P.S. If you have any questions I would be happy to answer them! =)

Triumphs and Tribulations

The last two days have been a time of spiritual wins and losses.

The church service was good on Sunday. Lydia and I were in the nursery with the kids--Daniel, Nathan, Jamie, and Elona. I played planes with Daniel, which he absolutely loved. He’s so cute. In toddler talk he asked me to read him a little picture book. It was funny to watch Daniel trying to reach for the ball on the page and then pretending to throw it. Then when I showed him the ice cream cone he wanted to hold the book. He began licking the page, I guess hoping it would taste like a cold treat. What a disappointment to find it was only stale-tasting cardboard. I quickly took it away from him. Yuck! The babies were fun to hold. Once the two little ones were settled down and eating their crackers, I wrote down my memory verses on the whiteboard; I enjoyed that. I love memorizing Scripture!

On Sunday afternoon Dad was able to contact a member of our congregation who left several months ago without any explanation. Her reasons for leaving were exactly what we thought they were--relating to a situation we’ve been dealing with for several months now. Dad was able to explain some things to her, and it looks like she will be coming back to church. Praise God!

Then we also received a call from Mischa during the afternoon about another woman who left the church unofficially. Mischa was able to explain some things to her, so hopefully she will be back as well.

Later, on Sunday evening, Mom and Dad left to visit one of our ladies who wasn’t in church. While they were gone my friend Shelby called very distraught about Pauline, who has been acting peculiar. For those of you who have read about Pauline, we’re not sure at this point if she really got saved, or only “put on Jesus” along with all her other former religious beliefs. It hurt me to hear Shelby crying about the burden she feels for her friend, but it also did me good. It’s a good sign that she’s concerned about others. I have no doubt that Shelby is truly saved; her zeal to share the gospel and her love for the brethren proves that. I’m proud of her. I also know how she felt as she cried; being a pastor’s daughter, seeing people come into the church and stay and grow and then leave…well, I know that keen disappointment when somebody you love chooses not to serve God. Little did I know I would soon be experience those feelings afresh…
Shelby and I were able to talk for a while and encouraged each other. I love Shelby! We made tentative plans for a sleepover on the 24th of this month, which Mom and Dad approved when they got home later on. That should be fun!!! Last time the three of us girls talked for hours about the Bible and Christianity. It was such a blessing!

Well, those were our triumphs. God certainly did some great things! Now for the tribulations…

As I said earlier, Mom and Dad left to visit one of our ladies who wasn’t in church. We’re concerned about her, because it seems like she’s slowly been slipping away. It’s the usual pattern, and only too familiar. Soul winning is the first to go, then Wednesday night services, and finally Sunday morning (we don’t have an evening service). It’s the slow progression to spiritual lifelessness. I can’t go into details, but Mom and Dad were at least able to speak with one of the boys, even though they were told that the person they really had wanted to speak with “wasn’t home.” Whether that was true or not we aren’t sure. I just pray the firm but loving words spoken by Dad would somehow have an impact. Deep in my heart I have this sick feeling that I am about to lose another one of my dear friends--a lady we started our church with. Her husband, my dad’s former right-hand man, is gone; her daughter is gone. If only the two boys can be spared from ruination! The very groundwork of our church has slowly crumbled to virtually nothing; if our foundation was built on anyone but Jesus Christ this church would be no more. People are so unreliable.

Feeling about to explode with pent-up emotions, I headed up to my room and spent time in prayer and sobbing out my heart to God, pleading for these precious people. So many folks in our church are going through tough times, between marriage problems, family problems, financial problems, relationship problems, health problems, children whose hearts refuse to yield to Christ and be saved, lack of faithfulness to church and backsliding, spiritual coldness, outright displays of rebellion, whispering backbiters…worthless fathers who leave their families, and mothers burdened down with the weight of being mother and father, and children who are growing up in the Devil’s Playground. What chance do they have in this spiritual graveyard? Who will be the next generation of Dutch Christians when they succumb to the world, the flesh, and the devil one by one? What ever happened to commitment?

“Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth: for the LORD hath spoken, I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me. The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib: but Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider. Ah sinful nation, a people laden with iniquity, a seed of evildoers, children that are corrupters: they have forsaken the LORD, they have provoked the Holy One of Israel unto anger, they are gone away backward. Why should ye be stricken any more? ye will revolt more and more: the whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint.”
Isaiah 1:2-5

The last few months have been very difficult. Sometimes I feel crushed under the weight of these burdens. I feel a burning anger mixed with the deepest sorrow; the combination is overwhelming. Why won’t people just obey? Is it so hard to ask? How can they not see the danger they are practically begging for when they turn their backs on God and live worse than the heathen? I can’t explain the frustration of seeing them choose for the wrong when all I wish for them is God’s very best. We have put so much effort into these people. We have left our homes and families and country to serve them!!! We’re not here because we chose this life! Is it so hard to ask them to serve God? I think missionaries must understand, at least in part, how Jesus felt; we have left our earthly home as He left His heavenly home to give His all for those who would reject Him…those whose sins would nail Him to an old rugged cross. It’s like Paul said--the more I love, the less I be loved. The sadness that overwhelms my heart could make me literally sick at times. I know part of my health problems are due to the stress of the ministry. There is a fine line between being sick with sadness, and feeling the sorrow I ought to feel about such situations, and then leaving it all at God’s throne in prayer.

“From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy. I will abide in thy tabernacle for ever: I will trust in the covert of thy wings. Selah.”
Psalm 61:1-4

I thought our trials were over until yesterday evening when Dad returned from a meeting with his two deacons, and we receive the shocking news that one of them is leaving the church. It’s a long story. At the moment the I feel…numb. One thought keeps going through my mind--“Yea, mine own familiar friend, in whom I trusted…hath lifted up his heel against me.” You’d think that after 9 years of working together there would be some small speck of faithfulness…love…devotion…respect. But it has all been broken…along with my heart. How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle!

“I had fainted, unless I had believed to see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD.” Psalm 27:13-14

Though my spirit is cast down, I will go in the strength of the Lord my God. As each Weak-heart falters from serving the Saviour, my resolve to do what they have not only grows stronger and more firm. Let others faint in the day of adversity, but I WILL serve the Lord. I WILL do right no matter what. I WILL delight myself in the Lord. I WILL bless my God, even in the face of such heart rendering trials. I WILL take courage, for God is my rock and my fortress, my high tower, my light and my salvation. In God we shall do valiantly!!! Through His power we shall prevail!!!

“My heart is fixed, O God, my heart is fixed: I will sing and give praise.” Psalm 57:7

Please pray for our family and our church if you think to. So many are already weak right now. With every loved brother and sister who leaves the church I detect a weakening of “the things that remain.” It takes its toll on the people.

“Finally, brethren, pray for us, that the word of the Lord may have free course, and be glorified, even as it is with you: And that we may be delivered from unreasonable and wicked men: for all men have not faith. But the Lord is faithful, who shall stablish you, and keep you from evil.” 2 Thessalonians 3:1-3

Thanks for listening to my heart.

The Kamps Family

On August 2nd it will be 5 years since God brought the Kamps family from their home in Canada to Holland as missionaries. They have been such a blessing and encouragement to our ministry! God was so very good to give us friends like them after working alone for 8 years.

Mr. & Mrs. Kamps have four children---Josh (14), Alisah (12), Grace (8), and Annika (6). Josh and Josiah are partners in crime; I’m glad they have each other to play with. Lydia and I love the girls; they are like little sisters to us. Dad and Mr. Kamps are as close as brothers. When you get the two of them together you’re sure to hear lots of laughter and talk about biking the Gooi Meer. Mrs. Kamps is Mom’s good friend, and I count her among my friends as well.

For 4 years the Kamps worked with us at our church in Amsterdam. Last year they took over an English-speaking church left by missionaries who had to leave the country. Because they have their own work now we don’t see the Kamps as much as we used to, but we still get together, mostly during the winter months.

We don’t have any family here to celebrate birthdays and holidays with, but in many ways the Kamps are closer than our blood relations back home. We celebrate our special days together. Grace and Lydia share birthdays in November; Josiah has the month of December all to himself (unless you want to count Jesus’ birthday); Mom’s, Mrs. Kamps’, and my birthday are just days apart in January; Mr. Kamps and Alisah share the month of February; Dad’s and Josh’s birthdays are in March; and Annika’s birthday is in May. Between all those birthdays and then Thanksgiving and Christmas, we see each other a lot between November and February.

Four months ago, at the end of March, Mrs. Kamps was ordered to leave the country or she would be arrested. For some dumb reason Mr. Kamps and all the kids are allowed to stay in Holland, but Mrs. Kamps isn’t. Nothing like encouraging the family unit there!!! Mrs. Kamps left with the kids as soon as possible. Mr. Kamps stayed in Holland for a month longer to arrange things for their church. Then he left as well. They would be back after a 4-month period, when it was legal to return and try to reapply for Mrs. Kamps’ visa.

Well, those 4 months have passed now. Yesterday the Kamps arrived in Holland at around 4:00 p.m. Our family spent two Saturdays at their place doing lawn work, cleaning the house from top to bottom, making beds, getting some groceries, and making dinner. It was a lot of work, but what are friends for? =) They have done the same thing for us.

It was great to see the Kamps after such a long time! There were a lot of smiles and hugging. Later there was some crying as well. The emotional stress of saying good-bye to family back home, 24-hours of traveling, and the insecurity of culture shock will do that to you. (cringe) I don’t want to think about it; I know that wiped out feeling of exhaustion and sadness too well. One of the hardest things about leaving the States to head back to the mission field is that lingering question. What will have changed by the time we’re back again? You never know how long parents/grandparents will live. People you love will change--grow up, move away, get married, start a family. As a missionary you want the world you’re leaving behind to stay the same, but it doesn’t. Life goes on without you. That’s the way it is.

Can you imagine having to say goodbye to your dad as he’s being loaded into an ambulance? That’s what Mrs. Kamps had to do. The kids kissed Grandpa goodbye as he was being taken to the hospital. Suitcases were packed; a plane was waiting. What can you do in a situation like that? Pray, trust God…? That’s all there is. Thankfully before the Kamps boarded their plane they got news that Grandpa was going to be okay. The doctors think he passed out because of the stress of the coming parting.

After getting our emotions under control we all sat around and tried to catch up on everything. Josh and Josiah immediately began a whole discussion about electronics. Dad and Mr. Kamps sat on the patio where it was quiet. Lydia went off with the girls, leaving Mom and Mrs. Kamps to talk and me to listen. Annika was very tired; the poor thing was walking around like a little zombie. Grace had enough energy for all of us. She’s such a little chatter box! By the time we left I was exhausted and very glad to get to our cool home. (What a hot day!) It’s good to know our friends are close by once again!!!

(Picture: Flowers I chose for the Kamps’ kitchen table.)