Hopelessly Devoted to Him

I know it seems like I go on and on about the Rapture, but the thing is that I know it’s coming soon, and like a young bride, I can hardly wait for that day.

I don’t listen to anything but Christian music, and without a TV, I spend my downtime watching sermons of my favorite preachers on YouTube.  I hardly go to movies at all these days because I’ve found that I am very easily upset by violence or offended by bad language or people acting like sin is an acceptable way to live.  Understand that I’m not judging anyone (they will have to stand before the Judge of us all someday), but since I don’t hang around those kind of people in real life, I find it impossible to be entertained by them without my heart being offended.

So it’s funny, but today I was thinking about the Rapture again.  And a song came to me, but not a Christian song.  It’s not even a song that I particularly like: Hopelessly Devoted to You from the musical, Grease.  I like the musical, but that song!  Let’s face it: that song is sappy—it defines sappy.  Olivia Newton John as Sandy goes into the backyard in her nightgown and sings about how lovesick she is despite the bad treatment she’s gotten from Danny (John Travolta’s character).  Really, it’s enough to make Pollyanna throw up.

But despite all that, it really describes my state of mind.  Just like Sandy I’m “out of my head, hopelessly devoted” to Jesus.  I constantly think about the day that He will come and take me away.  And that’s not because my life is so bad, it’s not.  In fact, I couldn’t be happier or in a better place.  Well, not on earth, that is.  I guess Heaven is the only thing missing.  So I go on, doing my work for Him, dreaming of the day that we’ll be together forever.

Today’s Word from the Lord is John 14:12-14: “Very truly I tell you, whoever believes in Me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father.  And I will do whatever you ask in My name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son.  You may ask Me for anything in My name, and I will do it.”  That’s an awesome promise!  And it happens to be in the same chapter as a Rapture passage.  In verses 2-3, Jesus says: “My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with Me that you also may be where I am.”

I’ve moved a lot in my life (every 5 years on average), and most of them have been long distance moves.  Most of the time I was happy where I was living, but looking forward to the next place.  Now I have broken the lifelong pattern with my move back to Milan in 2010.  This is the first place where I have ever moved back to, and it’s the first time that I’ve lived for more than 7 years in one place.  I love Milan.  I love my friends here.  I love my apartment.  I love my neighborhood.  I love my ministry.  I love my life.  I’m very happy here.  But I’m looking forward to the next place.

So with moony sighs and lovesick tears, I resemble a teenager in love as I wait for my wedding day when I’ll fly away.  God is good!

Serendipity—Another Word for Coincidence

Dictionary.com defines serendipity as having an aptitude for making desirable discoveries by accident; good fortune or luck.  http://dictionary.reference.com/.  If you know God, then you know that He is in control, and there are no accidental desirable discoveries nor luck.

I started to write the first part of this post between flights back in August when I returned to Texas to help Mom move to another state.  Moving is a very busy, exhausting activity, so I had never finished writing it.  The second part happened yesterday afternoon, and the third part happened this morning, which served as the catalyst to finish writing.

My Brazilian Buddies

Greetings from Dallas!

Today is a travel day, so I’m writing this between flights.  I came back to the US to help my mom move.  When I checked in at Milan Malpensa Airport three hours ahead, like they say to do, of course there was no one to check in with.  I don’t know why I keep showing up three hours early for these early morning flights, but having missed a flight because of a very crowded airport check in line, I want to avoid missing another flight.  The only other people there were a Brazilian father and daughter.  They were also flying across the Atlantic today.  We talked, and became friends, trapped together as we were, waiting for a ticketing agent to show up.

A ticket agent did eventually show up and check us into our flight.  We were flying to Frankfurt first, and then I would fly to Dallas.  When I was checked in, and passed through security, I found my gate at the far end of the terminal.  But we had stood there waiting for the ticket agent for such a long time (over an hour) that I felt like I needed to walk the kinks out.  And since I wanted to buy a bottle of water and a last cappuccino before leaving Italy, I walked past our gate area in search of an open coffee shop.  I heard someone running up behind me, with urgency in his voice saying, “Signora!  Signora!”  I turned around and it was the Brazilian father.  He told me, “The gate is back this way.”  I thanked him, explaining about the need for a walk and a cappuccino.

Having satisfied both needs, I returned to the gate and sat in the open seat next to the father and daughter.  While waiting for boarding I became very drowsy.  Father and daughter got to their feet and headed for the line as soon as boarding started.  I waited, in no hurry to be confined to an airline seat any longer than absolutely necessary.  So they were among the first to board, while I was one of the very last.

On the plane I found my seat, stowed my backpack, buckled up, and promptly fell into a deep sleep.  Those who know me know of my ability to fall asleep quickly and deeply sitting up in a car or on a plane.  I believe that this is a gift from God for a missionary who travels as much as I do for ministry.

As we were about to land I woke up and reached for the bottle of water that I had brought.  In my peripheral vision I saw a boldly striped blue shirt on the person sitting next to me—it was the Brazilian father with his daughter next to him in the window seat.  “It’s you!”  I exclaimed, and we laughed about how I had been so sleepy that I hadn’t even looked to see who was sitting next to me.  I told them that it had been very pleasant traveling with them, even if I hadn’t known it was them.  And as we parted, I wished them a buon viaggio (good travels).  And I marveled at how funny life is sometimes.

Going to Church

Yesterday was my favorite day of the week: Sunday.  I love Sunday because I love going to church.  I love going to church so much that I go to my own church in the morning, and another in the afternoon.  I go to two churches in the US, too.  The reason I love going to church is not the music (though the music is excellent) or the preaching (which is also excellent) or even the fellowship (which is wonderful).  The reason I love going to church is because I always go expecting to meet God—and I’m never disappointed!  When you expect to meet God, He always shows up.

I go and sit as close to the front as I’m allowed (some churches reserve the very front row for leaders and/or the worship team).  I sit down front so that I won’t be distracted.  This is especially important if the service is in Italian, which it is at my home church here in Milan.  From that place down front I find freedom to worship God with complete abandon.  In the past years when I sat back toward the middle, I found that I became self-conscious because those around me didn’t raise their hands or dance in worship.  Down front, where I can’t see what others are or are not doing, I just worship God from my heart and my spirit, completely uninhibited.  It is possible that there are people behind me watching me and wondering what kind of an exhibitionist-lunatic I am.  But since I can’t see them, and since I don’t know what they’re thinking, it doesn’t concern me in the least.  I would rather be David than Michal, and being down front allows me the freedom to dance like David (2 Samuel 6:16-23).

After church I went home with the intention to rest and then go to the afternoon service of the sweet little church in Monza.  But I rested a little too well and fell asleep.  When I woke up, it was clear that I would be late getting to church, even if each train was right there, waiting to take me.  I considered going to the church up the road, instead.  But when I prayed about it, I felt like God wanted me to go catch the train to Monza.

So I walked to the train station, and once inside, I was coming off the stairs and onto the platform when a young man said, “Do you speak English?”  I said yes, and he asked if the train would stop at the Porta Garibaldi train station—the same train station that I needed to take to get to Monza.  I explained that all the trains on the Passante line stop at all the stations in the city.  Relieved, he asked me if I was on vacation, and I told him that I’m a missionary here.  His smile got wider, and he said, “Well, what do you know!  I’m on my way to church.”  He explained that he just arrived from Australia as a student, and that his mother had found him an English-speaking church on the internet.  It was one I had heard of, but it had closed down some years earlier, as far as I knew.

Now it was my turn to smile more broadly, I said, “Hey!  If it’s OK with you, I’ll go with you.”  He was very happy to have my company, so we went together, following the directions sent to him via e-mail.

It turns out that the English-speaking church has a mostly young congregation composed of students, like my new Aussie friend.  The music was great and the preaching was solid.  I love young churches!  This was truly a gift from God—and all because I was late for church!  God is good!

Coming to Church

But that’s not the whole story of so-called serendipity.  The pastor of my home church in Milan made an announcement yesterday as the service was ending, saying that the last Sunday of the month would be evangelism Sunday, and that we should each bring someone to church with us.  I prayed about who I should invite, and Barbara immediately came to mind.

I have known Barbara for most of my eleven years in Milan.  And I’ve often wondered if she might be one of the reasons why God keeps me in this neighborhood, where I’m currently occupying my third apartment.

This morning I had to go to the gas company to set an appointment for them to turn on the gas.  On the way home I stopped by the street market to buy a few things.  I love walking through the street markets, but today it was drizzling.  Rainy days at the street market can be miserable, but drizzle isn’t so bad.  Suddenly, there was Barbara.  I’ve had it happen before that I’ll be thinking of her and she suddenly is there.  Between her work, my travel, and my move, I hadn’t seen her for over a year.  We had a joyous reunion right there in the market, and I invited her to come to church.  I had invited her before, but something always interfered and stopped her from coming.  She assured me of her interest, but said that she doesn’t know if she will have to work.  So I told her that I will call her on Saturday.

Barbara has been interested and asking questions for years now, and this time I believe that she will come to church and meet her Savior.  Serendipity?  No way!  This is the hand of God, and God is good!

Bare-Bones Luxury

It’s funny, but you don’t really appreciate the simple things in life until you’ve had to do without.  After thirteen months of living out of a suitcase, I am so grateful to have moved into an apartment of my own again.

However, many people would call my new-found luxury “roughing it.”  The apartment is unfurnished, and in Italy, “unfurnished” means that the kitchen consists of walls, a floor, and pipes coming out of one of those walls.  But I already have everything I need to do all the cooking I intend to do . . . for now.   Here’s a picture of what I’ve set up for myself as a substitute kitchen.

What you’re seeing is an ironing board covered by a tablecloth, and on top of it (from right to left):  an electric kettle, a blender, a coffee canister, a juicer, a cutting board under a cappuccino cup with a sieve, lined with a paper towel and filled with coffee (with a plastic plate to catch any overflow).  So I can make American coffee and juices of all sorts.  And that’s really all the cooking I yearn to do these days.  With summer swiftly approaching, I’m not likely to want to do anything else that could result in the house becoming hotter.

The next picture is my office.

To the right on the floor is my printer, behind the computer you can see that the “desk” also doubles as a dinner table.  Above the printer you can see a little corner of the “kitchen.”  Otherwise, the room is gloriously uncluttered.

The next picture is my bedroom.

Those who read my blog or read my book (Look, Listen, Love.  Lulu.com, 2011—shameless plug!), will recognize Prayer Bear, my furry companion/pillow/kneeler on my little folding Ikea bed.

The final picture is the new arrival in the house—in fact, it just arrived moments ago.

Yes, I have a washer!  But in one of those moments when life tries to take away your joy, the delivery guy told me that there’s no hookup for the water (notice the hose).  There’s a pipe for it just to the left of the hose, but it needs a connector, which means I need a plumber.

However, I refuse to let anything take away my joy.  Therefore, I would like to point out that for now the washer serves as another flat surface on which I can put stuff.  You can see the dishwashing liquid on the bathroom sink.  Now I can wash my cup and I don’t have to balance it on the tiny ledge of the sink.  How’s that for taking life’s lemons and making lemonade!

Of course, I’ll have to get all the stuff for a real kitchen, including a sink, but for now, I am loving my bare-bones luxury.