MISSION UPDATE: Peter and a little Chai

My brain is so overwhelmingly tired. So tired, in fact, that I have struggled to keep the lies separated from the truth in my mind.

Morning had just broken on another rainy Sabbath day. The sky was heavy with dark clouds and the rain that had fallen through so much of the night continued to fall. I did not want to wake from my restless sleep but I knew I needed to and so I did.

I sat looking out the window into the stormy sky and I asked God too many questions before I realized He needed a chance to answer. I silenced myself and tried to listen. I heard the squall of a bird facing the rain without fear. I heard the low growl of a motorbike as it hustled by on the street below. I heard the whirl of the fan attempting to cool the thick, humid air in my room.

But I didn't hear God.

"Lord, I'm too tired." I said it right out loud, without drama or emotion. I was just telling my perspective of the truth. "I'm too tired to hear you clearly. I'm so afraid I'm going to miss something important."

A monk passed by below, barefoot and shielded from the rain by a man carrying an umbrella for him while also pushing a cart. The water sprayed around them with each step they took and the hem of the monk's robe was wet.

Minutes were ticking away and it was nearing the time when I'd need to gather the children who were with me at the building in town so we could drive to the property where our home and church building are.

I didn't want to go but I knew I would. Duty drives a person. But what I really wanted was to sit in the quiet until I heard a definitive word from God.

I opened my Bible to the chapter I've been working to memorize. 1 Peter 1. I know the first 15 verses well now and there's something so comforting in the hope I find tucked into each one. Also, I identify with Peter.

A bit impetuous. Somewhat stubborn. Passionate but sometimes misguided.

In this book, he's on the other side of the denial painfully marked by the crow of that rooster. He's on the other side of the resurrection and pentecost. He's fully engaged in spreading the truth of Jesus, the fullness of the gospel, the work of the Spirit, and the love of the Father.

He's been where I am. He knows what it is to be discouraged by his own shortcomings and so as he speaks to these "strangers scattered throughout Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia", I find myself in his audience.

And I'm captivated by the certainty of his conviction. This man spent time in the presence of Jesus. He was there at the mount of transfiguration, though he didn't fully understand what took place.

He was invited to pray at Gethsemane, though he couldn't stay awake.

He was singled out when Jesus came from the tomb and told Mary to tell PETER and his other disciples that He was risen, even after denying with cursing that he even knew Jesus.

He was crushed by the questioning of the Savior when asked three times if Peter loved Him. One time for each denial. Each time followed by an assurance that there was a special place for him in the work of spreading the gospel.

Peter knew well what it was to feel powerless against his own flesh and yet, the kind Shepherd didn't leave him to do battle alone.

In the words of Peter, I hear one wanting desperately to share that experience. He wants each reader to know that this kind of love is the stuff "the angels desire to look into." These angels have been working with, and for, Him through all the ages of this cosmic conflict and yet they're clearly still in awe of a love that will stop at nothing to save dust from returning to eternal dust.

In those early hours of today, I sat and looked again into the morning sky and recited the words from this chapter. Each time seems to bring more depth to my understanding of Peter's longing for us to understand his crucified Friend. When I got to verse 8 and I heard myself repeating the words, "Whom having not seen, ye love; in whom, though now ye see him not, yet believing with joy unspeakable and full of glory" I stopped. Because I want to sit in that very exact experience.

I want to believe with joy unspeakable, not hinged to circumstance. I love Him but I want to love Him more. Love comes by knowing which means I want to know Him more.

There was a break in the rain and the air was filled with birdsong. Many Thai birds are loud instead of lilting and their sound broke through my focus. I closed my Bible.

My brain was still tired, yet I knew I had enough in me now to gather the children and make our way home for church. We were soon in the truck and, not long later, I was in my kitchen putting the last minute touches on the afternoon meal we'd share after the service.

As I poured the slivers of lettuce into my favorite clay bowl, one small boy made his way to my side with the triumphant smile he always wears when he's created a masterpiece. Sure enough, he pulled a slip of paper from behind his back and presented it to me proudly.

On the paper was a drawing of Jesus on the cross and scrawled in Thai were the words Jesus Loves Chai. I looked down into his eyes so alive that they were literally snapping with joy and I thought, this is it! Chai knows enough about Jesus that he loves Him in every way his little heart can. He hasn't "seen" Him yet, but somehow he believes, and he's filled with unspeakable joy.

I scooped my sweet boy up and planted a kiss on his head while squeezing him. God had started speaking to me that morning and I'd had to leave the quiet of the conversation before I felt ready. But then He sent an adorable, small-framed six year old to finish what He'd started.

Because He always finishes what He starts unless we don't allow Him to.