After returning from Biella, I chatted on Facebook with my dear friend, Angelica. Suki and I visited Angelica at her home last year after Tony Anthony’s visit to nearby Modena (which I wrote about in last year’s post Encouragement from Above). From that visit was born a very deep and dear friendship. Angelica is one of those people who God has put into my life to encourage me, so visiting her was one of my priorities upon returning to Italy.
Angelica is Albanian by birth, so I wanted to tell her the exciting news about going to Tirana to pray for Albania with Operation Capitals of Europe, about Bogdan (her countryman) going with us, and especially about taking Albanian worship to the Feast of Tabernacles in Poland in October (all of which I wrote about in my last post Surprises).
Here’s our Facebook chat, after we set up a day & time for me to visit:
Angelica: can you stay here till sunday afternoon ?
only, if you can
Me: No, I can only stay for the day.
Angelica: ah ok
Me: But we can plan for a longer visit sometime
Angelica: would be great !
Me: I have something exciting to tell you!
Angelica: wow ! I can’t wait.
Me: But I want to tell you in person.
Angelica: good
Me: See you tomorrow!
Angelica: I have something good for you too…
you will like it a lot
Me: We will both have to wait
Angelica: hehehe yeah
I was so excited about telling Angelica my news that her surprise for me was almost completely eclipsed. I must admit, this is also what I do with any surprise. I am like a little kid when it comes to surprises and gifts, I get very excited and can’t think about anything else (if you notice, I’m also that way about the coming Rapture!). So what I do to enable myself to function is that I deliberately make myself forget that there is a surprise coming. This time it was so effective that I literally had forgotten all about it until after the lovely meal Angelica had prepared for me. First, I told her my surprise, about going to Albania and taking Albanian worship to the Feast of Tabernacles in October. Then she told me her surprise for me: she has talked to her pastor about having me speak at the Women’s Retreat in June. The pastor countered with an invitation that I speak briefly this coming Wednesday at the Women’s Tea.
This is a fabulous opportunity to encourage a local body of believers. I have never been invited to speak to any church or church group in Italy (or anywhere in Europe) before, not even my own home church in Milan. Of course, I said that I would do it.
After I returned home, Angelica wrote to me that her pastor said she had already gotten a speaker for the Women’s Retreat. The disappointment that she felt was obvious. However, a lot can happen between now and June. I have already prayed that if God wants me to speak at the retreat that He will open the door for me. I feel peace about it. After all, it’s out of my hands now. If God wants me to speak there, then nobody can stop me. Still, I am invited to speak on Wednesday evening at the Women’s Tea. So I have been praying for the guidance of the Holy Spirit about what to speak about. I have an idea what He wants me to talk about, but I always leave room for the Holy Spirit to flow and say whatever He will through me.
It’s possible that the pastor doesn’t really have someone else, and is just putting Angelica off to take the pressure off until she’s heard me speak. But whatever the case may be, I feel at peace about it because I have put the whole matter into God’s hands. I just want to be His instrument to bring healing, hope, and encouragement to these women, whether it’s only on Wednesday or also in June. God is good!
Tag Archives: Milan Italy
Surprises
I have just gotten back home to Italy almost two weeks ago. After a four month absence, I had several things that had to be taken care of immediately. Once those things were taken care of, I could do my favorite thing: visiting the people who are important to me. These are dear friends who pray for me daily. I do the same when I’m in the US, but sometimes I have to be content with a phone call, mailing a card, or sending e-mail because of the vast distances involved—I have praying friends in the US on both coasts and from north to south, so going to visit is not always an option.
My first visit was to my favorite church in the whole world: the church of Biella. Biella is a small city north of Turin, and this church has the friendliest people of any church anywhere. They actually argue over whose turn it is to host me. The pastor is a good friend of many years, and his preaching is so full of the Holy Spirit anointing that nobody could ever complain that going to church is boring.
Last year the church bought a bar. What they call a bar in Italy is as much a coffee shop and sandwich joint as it is a bar, and more than that, it functions as a meeting place where often you can also enjoy live music. So when friends decide to get together for a coffee, they will go to their local bar. The church’s bar is far more than a typical Italian bar because in addition to indoor and outdoor coffee shop space, it has two big rooms with tables for eating (with a foosball table for the kids in the room farthest back), a good-sized courtyard and beyond that, a large gravel bocce court.
When I told Felicity about going to Biella (she and the core of Biella’s worship group came with me in September to bring Italian worship to the Feast of Tabernacles in Kalisz, Poland), she wanted to come, too. I admit, I told Felicity, hoping that she would come with me. I travel alone most of the time, and I’m fine traveling alone. But having the company of a dear friend is so much better. So Felicity brought her guitar, and it turns out that God had an assignment for us at the church’s bar.
But first there was a divine appointment on the train. The train to Biella can go either to Novara and change or to Santhia and change. Either way takes about the same amount of time. I usually go by way of Santhia because it costs something like twenty cents less, and I used to be a coupon-clipping housewife, so twenty cents saved is something I appreciate. When I bought the train tickets, I had on my walking glasses and not my reading glasses, so I didn’t notice that the tickets said via Novara. The conductor pointed it out as he checked our tickets just past Novara, so we were already committed to going by way of Santhia. If I had noticed, I would have made sure that we changed trains in Novara, but I hadn’t. But that turned out to be not so much because of the wrong glasses as it was a divine appointment on the train from Santhia to Biella. I had seen a woman get on the train and ask in Italian if it was the train to Biella. She sat by herself near where Felicity and I sat. We were speaking English, and as an American, her ears perked up. When she heard Felicity say something about music, she couldn’t keep to herself anymore. It turns out that she is a singer/songwriter and she’s touring, playing in bars all around Italy. We spoke to her about our faith and she was so touched that she gave Felicity a couple of CD’s.
We arrived in Biella around lunch time, but everyone who usually picks me up from the train station was busy, so Pastor Fabio sent Silvestro to pick us up. I had never met Silvestro before, and he had only enough time to take us from the train station to the church’s bar, then he had to go because his son was getting married in a couple of days. It wasn’t until I talked to Giuseppe (the bass player and leader of the worship team) that I put it all together: Giuseppe told me that his daughter is getting married in a couple of days . . . to Marco, who I then realized must be Silvestro’s son.
Anyway, Silvestro dropped us off at the bar and went to finish the wedding preparations. Pastor Fabio had told me that he wouldn’t be able to come pick us up from the bar until around 4 that afternoon. So Felicity and I enjoyed a nice piadina (sandwich wrap) in the sunny courtyard. Just as we were finishing lunch a man came into the bar who was very clearly drunk. He ordered a beer and sat near us, scrutinizing us because he had never seen us before. When he heard us speaking English with each other, he began interrupting. I don’t normally mind someone interrupting a conversation like that—in fact, it’s often a divine appointment, as with the woman on the train. But his interruptions became increasingly disruptive and we even noticed a hostile undertone to them.
Felicity looked at me and said, “I think we need to do some spiritual battle.” So she pulled out her guitar and started to sing praise songs. I immediately felt like I should be dancing, but aware of how weird my holy dancing looks, I hesitated. But then I got up and danced, and I felt the flow of the Holy Spirit as I danced and Felicity played. I sang along with her, sometimes in counterpoint, sometimes in harmony. The drunk tried several times to stop our worship, but seeing that we were not going to stop, he gave up. He went inside and came back out with another beverage: water! He made a few feeble efforts at stopping the worship, but his heart wasn’t in it.
Please understand something: the decision to do spiritual battle was not against the man.
For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Ephesians 6:12
We recognized the spiritual forces at work in his drunken combativeness. As we worshiped, he settled down—an outward sign of the enemy retreat. At that, Felicity began singing in Italian so that the man could understand that we were singing about Jesus. Because silencing the enemy was not the entire point, sharing the love of Jesus was! But we couldn’t do that until we had the enemy silenced.
Giuseppe told me that he is taking the whole Biella worship team to Poland in October for this year’s Feast of Tabernacles. He didn’t invite me, and I didn’t expect him to. I felt like I was the midwife who helped this baby be born, but now that it was walking, the baby didn’t need me anymore.
Upon our return to Milan, Felicity told me that I should tell Bogdan about my upcoming trip to Albania. Bogdan is Albanian and he is very committed to praying for his country. She also said that he would probably be interested in going to the Feast of Tabernacles as Albanian worship. So she set up a meeting with Bogdan for the next day, and I told him first about going to Tirana to pray for the capital, and then I told him about Tabernacles, and how there was no Albanian worship there. He was very excited about both prospects, checked his calendar, and found that both time periods were open. So it looks like I will be midwife now to Albanian worship at the Feast of Tabernacles. God is good!
A Travel Promise from Father God
Yesterday and today could have been very difficult travel days, indeed. I had bought my round-trip tickets to Malta separately from my round-trip tickets to Rome. I had planned a 4 hour layover to claim my bag and check in to my other flight. If anything went wrong with my Malta flight, it could have cost me the flight back to Milan. (Remember my post from April titled Six Hours Late?)
Likewise, the potential for problems loomed for today’s travel. I will be meeting Nina at the airport after she drops off her son’s fiancée at another airport. If there is a traffic snarl or something goes wrong, and Nina doesn’t get there in time, what do I do? Go ahead and check in? Give up my ticket and wait? And Buck will be meeting us at the airport in Sofia, and driving us to The Promised Land Complex, about 2 ½ hours away.
Such travel plans fraught with possibilities for problems used to keep me awake at night. But this time I prayed about it, and decided to leave it all in God’s hands whatever happens. I slept very well both nights, and yesterday morning before traveling, God told me very clearly that His message to me for the day’s travel is Psalm 81:6, “I removed the burden from their shoulders; their hands were set free from the basket.” God is promising to carry my luggage for me because I’ve let go of my baggage. By that I mean that since I decided to just trust Him, He is promising to take care of me the whole way.
Your might be wondering what is today’s travel promise from God. Proverbs 3:6, “In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.”
And He has! God is good! Whatever comes, God is good!
Leaving Malta
Greetings from Rome (my layover before returning home to Milan)!
Although I am always ready for the next adventure, I have to say that leaving Malta is one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in a long time. Whenever I leave my family, I know that I’ll see them again before the year is out. But in Malta I was very aware of how close we had grown as a team. And although I will definitely come back to Malta, it will never be the same because the team won’t be there. We had come from all over the globe: Asia, Africa, North America, Australia, and of course, Europe. South America and Antarctica were the only continents not represented. Among the crew were newbies on their very first mission trip and seasoned missionaries who had raised children on the mission field.
The local believers were very hospitable, just as they had been described in the book of Acts. Malta is incredibly beautiful, but it’s the beauty of the Lord and His presence that really took my breath away. God is good! And Malta can be seen as proof of His goodness!
Dancing in the Piazza!
We have been rehearsing the last few days to do a flash mob in the Parliament Square. This was my 3rd flash mob. The first was in Milan’s ritzy department store, La Rinascinte, singing Amazing Grace on Christmas Eve to shoppers there.
My 2nd was a flash mob of values on the steps of the Duomo Cathedral of Milan, in which at a signal we held signs naming various moral values. Mine said coraggio (courage). The press had been invited to that one!
This time we were all over the big central piazza and after an introduction we ran to the middle of the piazza and danced to Resurrection (link there—I’m in the back on the right, all in gray). You can see a guy in green at the front who briefly dances with us. We had good audience participation. The wind was something I, personally, had prayed for because without wind, it would have been blistering hot—so thank You, Lord, for the wind to keep us cool!
Afterwards the dance team and others went to the main street, set up there, and danced some more. It was a moment when I would like to have been able to be in 2 places at once. But I stayed in the piazza with the evangelization team. We hadn’t seen them very much at all since Rome, so I wanted to spend some time with them. But that desire was really just a set up for a divine appointment. In Rome Guy, the host and head of the evangelization team, had told us about prayer walking in Parliament Square at 3AM. He had gone up to the door and knocked on it. The guard who answered had tears in his eyes, and Guy asked if he could pray for him. The guard had just a month earlier lost his daughter in a car accident and had been in that moment struggling to cope. Guy prayed for him and shared the Good News of Jesus Christ with the guard. The guard has remained Guy’s friend.
After the dancers left, Guy went to the same door and knocked. He asked the guard inside to please tell Paul hello for him. The guard said, “If you wait 10 minutes, Paul will be here, and you can tell him yourself.” So we all got to meet Paul, and he invited us into the courtyard of the Parliament Building. Paul told us that we can’t go inside, though. Then after a few minutes, he took us into another courtyard that was even prettier. Again he told us that we couldn’t go inside. I got a chance there in the second courtyard to talk with Paul. He is a very nice man, and his affection for Guy was obvious.
Then after telling us twice that we couldn’t go inside, Paul took us inside, where we saw lots of suits of armor and paintings of leaders going back to the 1500’s. Before exiting, we all prayed for Paul. He thanked us, wiping tears from his eyes. It was a sweet and touching visit, and probably prophetic for whenever Operation Capitals of Europe comes to Malta—that we will be gratefully welcomed.
Then Guy treated us all to ice cream, and we said our good-byes (some of them are leaving today, and I’m leaving tomorrow). God is good!
Take it Personally!
God has been meeting us here in very personal ways, providing just what we need (or want!) at just the right time. For me, there were 4 things that people either did for me, gave to me, or that were simply there for me, and nobody knew where they had come from.
Scarf
The day before I left for Rome I was given a scarf. I put it in my backpack and really forgot about it until the first morning in Rome. We had a pre-breakfast prayer meeting by the swimming pool each morning. Rome was hot, but not at 6:30AM. So having that scarf to throw over my shoulders was just perfect. It felt like a smile from God. I have also needed the scarf on the buses here in Malta because they are hyper-uber-air-conditioned and freezing cold. After a roasting hot day, getting on a freezing bus when you’re all sweaty feels really good—at first. But our bus ride is about 25 minutes, which is plenty of time to get frozen. So again, having the scarf to throw over my shoulders has been a real blessing and a life-saver.
Pearl
In the Malta airport I found a pearl on the ground. As many of you know, I have recently opened my apartment in Milan as a missionary guesthouse. What you might not know is that I named it Pearl House because of a dream that God gave me while I was fasting and praying. In the dream I saw people lined up on the sidewalk in front of the apartment building. Each person had a bag overflowing with pearls in their hands. When I woke up, I realized that these were missionaries taking the Pearl of Great Price (the Gospel) to people in Europe. So finding that pearl was significant in a very personal way.
Chicken Dinner
Yesterday I took a day off from the Prayer Center to rest, get some laundry done, and work on the computer. We have had all our meals provided for us, but they have been brought to the Prayer Center. I had spied a can of tuna and figured that I would just put tuna on crackers, and that would be fine for dinner. But then the dance team woke up from their nap and made a delicious chicken dinner, and they invited me to share it with them. They were going to do the overnight shift at the Prayer Center, and opted to get a good nap and arrive too late for dinner. So instead of cold tuna on crackers, I got a lovely chicken dinner with oven fried potatoes and a delicious fresh fruit salad.
Yogurt
This morning I got up early and caught the first morning bus to the Prayer Center. I had a cup of coffee before leaving, but I usually don’t wake up hungry. As I walked into the Prayer Center I wanted a second cup of coffee and something to eat. My favorite breakfast is a crunchy granola cereal with plain yogurt over it. On the kitchen counter sat a cup of plain yogurt. There were 3 people in the Prayer Room, so I asked if the yogurt belonged to anyone. They all said that they didn’t know anything about it. But I know: it was a breakfast treat from my Father, who loves me personally and intimately. God is good!
Break Every Chain
After only 3 hours, both Molly and I wanted to get back to the Prayer Center. It wasn’t a lot of sleep, but both of us got 3 very good hours of sleep. I love that we got to be the ones to launch the 24/7 prayer. It was out of my comfort zone, but so worth it! In fact, every time that I have stepped out of my comfort zone in response to God’s call, I have enjoyed it and been blessed.
And speaking of being called out of my comfort zone, God has encouraged me to speak to people here in Malta—strangers! Those who know me might be surprised, but I’m really quite shy, especially when it comes to talking to strangers. My mom is really good at striking up a conversation with a stranger, and seems to be able to do it anytime and anywhere, with grace and freedom. I have not enjoyed such ability or success whenever I have tried. But, since it is God that is calling me out of my comfort zone, I will do it, and will enjoy it and will be blessed.
In obedience, I have started to greet everyone I see on the street (except the ones that are talking on their phones). Most people have responded in a friendly way. In Texas I used to greet everyone on the street, even strangers. But in Milan and in the northeastern US, I have gotten such odd and sometimes hostile reactions that I stopped doing it. I spoke to the man next to me on the bus this morning, but found that his accent and the background noise made it really hard to understand him. Although he didn’t seem to be quite awake, he responded in a friendly way. When we got to the end of the line, he wished me a nice day.
Yesterday we had more prayer requests from the other Transform teams, and had a prayer meeting with local believers. One couple came with their 10 year old son, but soon after worship started, they suddenly left. I don’t know if they were offended by the freedom of our worship or if they had some unrelated issue. It definitely was not our intent to offend anyone. Malta is even more religiously Catholic than Italy—celebrating saint days with colored lights and garlands and fireworks and parades of statues in the streets. The Renewal Movement (Charismatic Catholicism) has begun here, but it is not the majority by any means. Most Catholics here, as in Italy, are nominal, ritualistically religious, or superstitiously religious. True faith is rare here in Malta. But it won’t stay that way.
Another issue for the Maltese is refugee boat people from Africa. Most of the boat people drown before making land, but such is the desperation of these people that they just keep coming. The same current that caused the Apostle Paul’s boat to shipwreck on Malta brings the African boats to these shores instead of to Italy (though many do land in Italy). The European Union has told Malta that they must keep the boat people, so the population of the island has changed dramatically. Many Maltese resent the presence of the Africans, feeling that their island has been invaded, their jobs taken, and their economy drained. The fact is that the European Union financially helps Malta, though I don’t know how much. Refugees are put into detention centers for a year while their backgrounds are checked. As you can imagine, this is not a quick process, working in cooperation with various African governments that do not want to have these people returned to be a drain on their own struggling economies. Then the refugees are released to find work that nobody else wants to do because of low pay or the danger involved.
Molly, who is a black African, discovered firsthand the anger and resentment of the Maltese for the African refugees. She was walking with 2 other girls from our team, and they spoke to people in the park. They asked one older man if they could pray for him. An ugly look came over his face and he pointed his finger at Molly, shouting: “Pray about them!”
The unexpected venom of his anger startled and hurt Molly. But later as she told us about the incident, Molly prayed for the man, forgiving him and releasing him to God’s love. While walking with Molly, I saw another older man who scowled at Molly. I turned to her and said, “Molly, I’m so sorry for the way that man spoke to you!” How terrible to be hated so much just because of the color of your skin! The man had no idea what a sweet person Molly is, or that she had come for the specific purpose of praying for his country.
Jesus is the chain-breaker, and He will break every chain and proclaim freedom to the captives. Yes, Lord! Break every chain! God is good!
The Whole Inheritance
Greetings from Rome!
I am here at Transform 2013, an outreach program of OM. At the airport while waiting for the bus to the conference, I stopped at a coffee shop for an after-lunch espresso, as is my habit. Next to me at the coffee bar was a friendly woman. She smiled and spoke to me in English. It turned out that she was also headed to Transform. We hit it off in an instant friendship. But Monica and I had no idea at the time just how compatible we were.
Transform in Rome is to prepare missionaries for short-term missions in the countries around the Mediterranean. “Where are you going after the conference?” Monica asked me. This would become one of the 2 most common questions to strike up conversation at the conference. The other being, “Where did you come from?” I told her that I’m from Texas, living in Milan, Italy, and going to Malta after the conference. Her smile widened and she said, “Me too!” Both our jaws dropped open. Right on cue, the bus arrived and took us to the conference. Monica and I rode together, each glad to have found a traveling companion.
When I arrived in Rome, I was already going on 2 nights in a row of only 4 hours sleep. Monday night (or technically, Tuesday morning) I awoke at 2AM with a migraine attack beginning. The enemy frequently tries to prevent me from going or from being effective on missions trips by attacking me with migraines. But the Lord said to get on my feet and fight. So I stood there in the dark room, rebuking the enemy silently so as not to awake my 3 roommates. The migraine immediately went away and I was able to get back to sleep, but had a 3rd night of only about 4 hours sleep. Something would have to break. The next night (yesterday morning) I woke up again at 2 and simply couldn’t get back to sleep. It wasn’t that my mind was busy, I just laid there feeling my breath going in and out, and not sleeping. About 11 that morning, I was considering going to the room to see if I could sleep through lunch.
But my morning prayer partner suggested that I pray with someone who knows about generational curses. She suggested this because I had opened up and told her about my concerns for my son, who had written on Facebook that he hadn’t been happy in a year, and had asked the question, “Why should I go on living?” I noted that it was about a year ago that his grandfather (my former father-in-law) had committed suicide. The person she led me to was Monica.
I told Monica about my son and father-in-law, and also that 4 months later, I also lost a close family friend to suicide. She said that there is a spirit of suicide and a spirit of death that are generational spirits. That means that they tend to cling to a person’s family, encouraging death among family members. I had already broken other such curses off my family, but not specifically suicide or death. I told her that in the last year that I lived with my husband, I suffered thoughts of suicide all day long, day-in and day-out. And that finally, when I left him, I was literally running for my life—not because of physical danger from him, but because of the danger that I might, in a moment of weakness, act upon those thoughts because of how intolerable life had become for me. One day I did come close, but instead called 911 and was referred to the County Mental Health Clinic, where I was given a prescription for an anti-depressant.
Monica took me to her room, laid hands on me and prayed for me, breaking the spirit of suicide and death. She prayed for the healing of my memories and other things that I don’t remember. What I do remember is that her hands smelled very nice and felt soothing on my skin. When I commented on the fragrance of her hands she showed me a little vial of Frankincense. It has a lovely smell! It’s really very soothing.
After Monica’s prayer, I felt my energy return. I did take a nap, but not until after lunch, and only for about 45 minutes. Last night I slept very well, getting about 8 hours—6 in a row!—thank You, Lord!
Today almost everyone has gone into the city of Rome on outreach, taking many paperback Gospels of John in Italian, 3000 dvd’s of the Jesus film to give away, and thousands of tracts to hand out. I decided to stay behind, knowing that without a nap, I could never last a whole day into the evening, walking around Rome. On Fridays I pray for Italy from 3-4 in the afternoon. So I went to the prayer room, with their big floor map of the Mediterranean countries. I knelt down on Italy and prayed and wept over it. Then I stretched out over Italy, my heart right over Tuscany. For a long time I had no words to pray, just mute longing for the salvation of the people of Italy, and my heart beating over Tuscany.
Then I lifted up my head and saw the words printed on the corner of the map: “Ask Me, and I will make the nations your inheritance, the ends of the earth your possession,” (Psalm 2:8). It was 3 years ago, just before I went to Transform 2010, that I received a prophecy, saying (in part): “You will not just receive the blessing, but the whole inheritance.” So I stood to my feet and began to ask for the nations as my inheritance, and to claim the whole inheritance. As brokenhearted as I had earlier felt for Italy, I began to feel confident that God will indeed bless and save the people of Italy—no matter what their background.
Then I remembered a prophecy I received a few days ago, but read this morning: “When your faith is in what you want Me to do for you instead just wanting Me, it is misplaced,” (emphasis mine). Yes, my faith is in God Almighty, and He alone is the hope for Italy. God, who helped me yesterday when I was in trouble, can help Italy, too! God is good!
The Edict of Milan
I recently attended a conference, calling itself an “alternative conference to those applauding Emperor Constantine and the signing of the Edict of Milan.” This year marks 17 centuries since Emperor Constantine signed the Edict, legalizing Christianity in the Roman world. It’s called the Edict of Milan because he signed it here in Milan.
On the surface, it seems like the Edict was a good thing for Christianity. After about 300 years of persecuting and exterminating (feeding Christians to the lions, soaking them with oil and lighting them as torches, and crucifixion), instead of ending Christianity, it had continued to grow.
Constantine was no fool. He decided that if you can’t beat them, join them. So that’s what he did. Was he sincerely converted to Christianity? Only God knows, but probably not. The Edict was a political move to bring Christianity under government control—the opposite of the Biblical model, in which the government is under the control of God. The result was the ritualization of what had until then been Spirit-inspired rites (the Lord’s Supper, for example). And little by little through these rituals, the human doctrines replaced Biblical soundness (infant baptism and praying to saints, for example).
On December 8, 1854 the Immaculate Conception became a doctrine of the Catholic Church—a fact that many Catholics are unaware of. Many Protestants don’t realize that the Immaculate Conception is not about the sinless purity of Jesus, it’s about His mother, Mary, being born sinless. Of course, if Mary was a sinless, divine person, then Jesus could never have died for our sins. The only way that He could die in our place is if He was 100% human in body. If you’re interested in reading more on the subject, here’s a link: Immaculate Conception.
Ironically, the Edict, which was called the “Edict of Tolerance,” gave birth to a new anti-Semitic form of Christianity: Replacement Theology (link for those interested in knowing more about that). Before the 4th century, Christians were very much aware of their Jewish roots. But with the government-controlled version of Christianity, came a way to control the Jews. Despite having been scattered all over the known world, the Jews continued to grow in population and most refused to convert, but remained Jewish. Replacement Theology basically says that God gave up on the Jews and turned His attention and affection onto the Christians, instead. Of course, this doctrine shows a basic lack of understanding about God: He is not a man and He does not change His mind (Numbers 23:19). God is more than able to love Christians while still loving the Jews. It’s like being a parent. My sons are as different from each other as brothers can be, but I can and do love each of them equally. If I, as a flawed human mother, can love my children equally in their differentness, can’t God also love both the Christians and the Jews? Of course He can!
There were professors and clerics (Catholic, Evangelical, and Jewish), docents and intellectuals that spoke at the conference. They spoke on their particular areas of expertise, and in the end we were given the opportunity to sign a petition declaring repentance and true tolerance for the Jewish people and for the State of Israel.
Recently, I have lost some friends. These are Christian people who disagree with me on the true nature of grace. They have decided to stop being friends because I believe that grace does more than save your soul. (You can read more in my blog posts: Stop Complicating the Simple Things, Gracious Grace, Dis-Graceful Conduct, Generous Grace, and Blessed Reassurance, Part One.) I wanted to agree to disagree—extending grace to them—but they were unwilling. One of these former friends showed up at the conference, and was so surprised to see me there that when I greeted her warmly, she smiled and kissed me back. Then she scurried away from me, ostensibly to find a seat, and never said another word to me. This is at a conference about a new declaration of tolerance? I tried not to let it hurt my feelings, but I am human, and I did have genuine affection for this person. She used to be my cell group leader, for crying out loud!
This morning, the Word that the Lord gave me is Isaiah 65:17: “See, I will create new heavens and a new earth. The former things will not be remembered, nor will they come to mind.” In meditating about this verse, I realized that God isn’t saying that we won’t have the ability to remember, but rather that we won’t have the motivation to remember. It’s like when you’re on vacation in a beautiful, tranquil place. It’s not that you don’t remember the stress of your daily life, it’s just that there’s no motivation in that setting to do so.
In considering these things even further, I remembered a sermon I heard by Chuck Missler in which he described this world as a digital simulation of the real world: An Extraterrestrial Message. I recommend watching that sermon (follow the link) because it is one of the most amazing explanations of the proof that the Bible is a supernatural book. His point is that Heaven is a more real reality than this world. I really like Chuck Missler because he’s unashamedly and unapologetically both Christian and intellectual. The 2 are not mutually exclusive!
I understand very well why the Bible says that all creation groans to be set free from the bondage of decay (Romans 8:21-22). I am groaning for it, too! I look forward to the day when all these injustices (as with the Edict) and misunderstandings (as with grace) are a thing of the dim past that is not worth remembering. God is good!
Too Much Homework is Overwhelming!
I haven’t forgotten that I need to write Part 2 of my last post, Blessed Reassurance. But here’s the thing: I’ve just got too much writing to do at the moment. I need to write:
- The script for a film about the missionary guesthouse that my apartment in Milan has become,
- The script for a PowerPoint about the ministry,
- A new post for the website’s blog, and
- Part 2 of my last blog post, mentioned above)
In addition to those writing tasks, I have 2 very big translation jobs:
- A book from Italian into English (due by the end of the summer) and
- Our corporate paperwork from English into Italian (due as soon as possible)
All this is just overwhelming me almost to the point of paralysis.
So, instead of putting off the blog altogether, I thought I would take a pleasant little detour today, and take you on a little guided tour into a writer’s mind—mine! I have written 3 complete books (nonfiction), and 2 that I never completely finished (fiction—I lost interest ¾ of the way through), and several plays (3-5 acts) and skits, the majority of which have been produced in schools and/or churches. That’s not bragging, it’s just establishing that I know a thing or 2 about writing.
2 of the 3–the only ones I own copies of!
Sometimes people tell me that they feel that urge to write, but writing a book just seems like too big a task. It’s funny but, I found books to be the easiest thing to write. Although by word count my plays are about a 10th the size of my books, they were much harder to write. It was rewarding when they were done, especially when I saw my plays acted on the stage. But writing, especially dialogue, was like do-it-yourself dentistry: painful and difficult. Pulling the words out of my characters’ mouths was like trying to extract my own teeth with a rusty pair of pliers. (How’s that for a colorful image?)
Books are not so hard to write if you break the task into small pieces. The blog has helped with that—something I hadn’t imagined when I first started blogging just 3 years ago. In addition, writing becomes easier if you make a regular appointment with yourself. I try to write daily, but sometimes my heavy travel schedule makes it impossible to keep up with every single day. One thing I found is that if you start to treat your writing time as an important appointment, you’ll find that your creative self will meet you at your desk, ready to write. But you must treat your writing task as something important. Turn off the phone, don’t answer the door, and close your web browser (unless you need to do research on the internet).
Beginning writers might find more success if they write things out with pencil and paper. My first book was entirely handwritten before a word of it was put on the computer. There is something about the sound of the pencil scratching across the page that unblocks the creative wells. And, yes, even writing nonfiction is creative. You have an incident that happened, but you choose how to shade it and frame it.
If you want to write, but don’t know what to write about, then take a look at what you like to read. I have always preferred true life stories, how people overcame their circumstances by faith. I think that’s why I lost interest in writing those 2 novels. I just find real life so much more interesting, bizarre, and unpredictable. Many of the things that have happened in my life are so strange that you simply could never make them up. And the fact that they are true gives them a meaning that mere fiction could never attain.
It is extremely helpful to be a part of a writing group, that is, a group of writers that get together to support each other’s work. The key word is support. If the group you find is only interested in tearing each other’s work apart, then find or form another group. The most helpful writing group I’ve been in was one in which each of us read what we had worked on that week. Sometimes it’s only by hearing yourself read it aloud that you can notice things like run-on sentences and nonsensical phrasings. The others then critiqued the writing, but always in kind and helpful ways.
In general, it’s not a good idea to share your writing with non-writers—at least not at first. Non-writers usually don’t know how to tell you what works and what doesn’t. Sometimes their comments will be a sweeping statement of disapproval, when in reality there is just a misplaced word or an awkward phrase. The writing process has been likened to pregnancy and birth. You wouldn’t give your newborn baby to an inexperienced and clumsy teenager, so you need to treat your newborn writing project with as much care and tenderness.
Editing is way more difficult than writing. The most important ingredient for editing is time. Put your writing aside for several weeks or even months. That will give you fresh eyes to edit with. So after reading your work to a writing group, making the changes suggested by your “midwives,” put it aside and work on something else or a different part of the project. Then when you come back to it, you will be much more objective about what you’ve written. Sometimes you’ll even be surprised by how good it is.
During the editing process, I like to add the sensory imagery that is missing from the first draft. Sight, smell, sound, touch, and taste all add a dimension to the writing that will help your reader become engrossed in your writing. Since my writing is nonfiction, this means going back in my mind to remember these missing elements. Sometimes these come back to me in Technicolor, Dolby surround sound, and Odorama (does anyone else remember Polyester?). Other times, I have to imagine what is missing. But this is such an important element that I dare not skip this step, even if it’s difficult to remember.
So, there you have it: my writing process. Oh, and one last thing: while praying the other day, the Lord showed me that this year I have been working on 2 books simultaneously—hallelujah! God is good!
Walking By Faith in Europe 