A Divine Appointment

Yesterday was a very full day of travel.  I started from Florence, where I had stayed the night with missionary friends, and went from there to the Abruzzo region on the Adriatic coast.  By choosing the less expensive, regional trains, I had to change trains twice.  The regional trains are less expensive because they are older and they stop in all the stations along the way.  So, travel which could have taken only a few hours, took six instead.  But the nice thing about slower travel is that I can catch a nice nap on the train, which I did.  I have learned not to fight the sleepy feeling if I don’t absolutely have to, and last night was a perfect example why.

When I arrived in Pescara, I went to the bus stop for the bus that would take me to the house of Bob and his family (Bob is the missionary there who I house-sat for during the last 2 summers—which you can read about in my book “Look, Listen, Love”).  I know other missionaries there, but because of the brevity of my visit, I hadn’t planned on visiting for more than a brief coffee or at least a phone call.  But God had other things in mind for me.

Not long ago, while I was still in North Carolina, I was inspired to start praying daily for divine appointments—both for myself and for my fellow missionaries.  As soon as I arrived I got a phone call from Betty, who had heard from Bob that I was arriving.  She and her husband are the other missionaries I had hoped to see, at least briefly.  She said, “Do you know Daisy of Rebirth Ministries?”  I told her that Daisy is a missionary I pray for daily, who I met at my home church in Milan a few years ago.  She told me that Daisy is in town for a women’s conference, and that if I wanted to go, she would come pick me up.  Of course I leapt at the opportunity.  I hadn’t seen Daisy for over a year, and had heard that she had moved to Rome.  This cut short my visit to Bob & his family, but we had a nice meal together and in our brief visit he caught me up on all the things that they are doing and things to be praying about.

Then after dinner, Betty, Daisy, and I went to the women’s conference.  Daisy is the founder of Rebirth Ministries, which helps stop domestic violence.  The focus of Rebirth is not only on educating and caring for women and children, but also on helping the abusers (which are not always men) to overcome rage issues and to find better ways of interacting than using fists.  Although the conference took place in a church, there were also women there, invited by friends, who were not believers.

Daisy shared her vision for Rebirth Ministries, and her personal story.  Daisy is from Argentina, and was twice widowed—one husband was one of the famed Desaparecidos “disappeared” persons, who was arrested and then simply vanished, never to be heard from again.  Alone, she raised two daughters and was called to Italy in 1994.  However, she didn’t immediately come to Italy, but prayed for Italy first, learned the language, and finished university.  During this time, the issue of domestic violence came to her attention.  When she put the call and the issue together, she understood why God wanted her in Italy, and so she came, forming Rebirth Ministries as a non-profit that meets in churches and schools throughout Italy.  The next step will likely be to bring Rebirth to the prisons.

In Italy, the danger of violence from strangers is very low, but domestic violence is unfortunately very high.  The police in bigger cities are beginning to respond to domestic calls, but in the small towns, they are still reluctant to interfere in “family” issues.  And even when the police arrest the abuser, the victim rarely maintains the courage to press charges, preferring to continue to try and make the marriage work.  In Italy, there is still a lot of shame attached to the issue of domestic violence because of the Catholic Church’s stance on divorce.  Italian women are encouraged by their priests to stay in abusive marriages, and often feel like failures if they cannot make the marriage work, make their husband stop drinking or using drugs, or stop seeking the company of other women.  And even among Protestant churches in Italy there is a lot of shame attached to divorce because the vast majority of Protestants in Italy are former Catholics.

One thing that Daisy shared was that many times when she speaks to groups like the one last night, someone invariably says, “But why Italy?  Surely domestic violence is a problem in Argentina, too.”  She admitted that it is, but much headway has been made in Argentina by others, whereas in Italy there is still much work to do.  As she spoke, I realized (not for the first time) that Daisy does have a true call to Italy.  She is being used mightily of God.

After Daisy spoke, Betty suggested that each person from the group give Daisy a brief word of feedback.  The overwhelming response was positive, and one young woman shared her story of abuse for the first time in her life.  It was very moving to see her tears, but also to hear the relief in her voice at finally being free to speak of it.  And the most beautiful thing of all was that this young woman was not a believer, but now that she has seen the love of Jesus in action, I have no doubt that she will make a decision for Christ.  Daisy spoke and prayed with her afterward, and arranged for follow-up counseling and care with the local church.

In a private moment I told Daisy about my personal observation that following Jesus always costs you something (He spoke of it in Matthew 19:29).  I told her that for me the cost is having left my adorable grandson.  But I encouraged her, saying, “But God always compensates me in the sweetest ways.  The first time I saw my grandson, when he was two months old, he laughed for the very first time—with his grandma!  And this visit, at eighteen months, he said ‘Grandma!’ for the very first time.  He sees his other grandma almost every day, but he called me Grandma first!”  Daisy was well able to relate because both of her daughters and all four of her grandchildren are far away in South America—the most recent was born two months premature just a week ago.  He weighs only one kilo—about two and a quarter pounds.  She is going to Brazil to visit Pedro, her newest grandson, next week.

Indy Go!

Greetings from Indianapolis!  I am here at the International Conference on Missions (ICOM http://www.theicom.org/conference) with Sally, the brains behind GoMissions, European Faith Missions’ new partner in ministry.  Sally and I are here exhibiting for GoMissions (http://www.gomissions.eu/), an online bulletin board for matching missionaries with mission opportunities in Europe.

Indianapolis is the cleanest, most graffiti-free city I think I’ve ever seen.  And when I commented on that to local people, the answer has come back:  police presence.  I believe it because every time I’ve gone out the door of the hotel, there has been a police car, either parked nearby or passing by on the street.  Every morning at breakfast, there is a group of 5 or 6 police officers who take a break here.

One officer told me that the campaign against graffiti started about 5 years ago, and that it has been an important weapon in the suppression of inner city gangs.  I guess I had never thought of it before.  My only experience of gangs is limited to the musical “West Side Story.”  And I remember that in the first scenes, in fact it’s in the opening credits, the Sharks and Jets dance around marking their turf with graffiti.  Anyway, the result is that Indianapolis is both very clean and feels safe.

Meanwhile, back at the conference, the need for missionaries in Europe is still obviously very much misunderstood here in the US.  When I point out that even people with running water and modern conveniences need a Savior, almost invariably the person responds that America is also a mission field.  I don’t deny the truth of that, but the people who say it tend to be people who are not actively sharing the Gospel here, either.  Interestingly, the people who best understand the need for missionaries in Europe are missionaries serving in other parts of the world.  They know that Europe is the least Christian continent on Earth.

I wouldn’t say that we should stop sending missionaries to Africa because there is still a need there, but Africa is way more Christian than Europe.  In fact, now there is an organization of African missionaries to Europe:  GATE, Gift from Africa to Europe (http://gate-mission.org/GATE%20Flyer.pdf).

And many people who say that they feel called to missions say in the very next breath: “But I could never live without running water.”  Well, Europe is more likely where they are called because those called to live in deserts love the deserts and desert people; those called to live in the jungle love the jungle and the jungle people; and those of us called to live in Europe love Europe and the European people.

Mission does not automatically equal suffering.  The suffering and troubles that Jesus warned about was persecutions.  Anywhere you meet the enemy and people influenced by the enemy, you’ll encounter resistance, trouble, and sometimes persecution.  Missionaries suffer hardship wherever they are.  I have had to learn to sleep sitting straight up on buses, trains, and planes, often missing meals—that’s hardship.  Giving up my house, and leaving my family—especially my grandson—is hardship.  But I know that I will be compensated:

Then Peter spoke up, “We have left everything to follow you!”

“Truly I tell you,” Jesus replied, “no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age: homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields [and grandchildren]—along with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life,” (Mark 10:28-30, emphasis mine).

Please, friends, help me get the word out:  Europe is a mission field full of people who need Jesus.

Summer—Time to Get Out of Town

Summer is not really my favorite season.  I pant like a dog, sweat like a hog, constantly push my glasses back up my nose, slather on sunscreen, and search for shade wherever I go.  I don’t paint a pretty picture, but it is unfortunately, a true one.

Milan is one of the most miserable places to be during the summer.  The asphalt and concrete turn the city into an oven without the slightest breath of wind.  You become used to the feeling of sweat-soaked clothing and the smell of mildew.  The drops of sweat periodically roll down your spine to join the larger pool at the waistband of your underwear.

With windows open, the street noise and mosquitos invade the house.  Happily, the skeeters don’t find me as tasty as most other people, but all it takes is one buzzing around my ear as I try to sleep.  I slap my ear and I’m wide awake again—with the mosquito untouched and returning just as I fall asleep again.  Car and building alarms sound for hours throughout the night.  The criminals are active because they know that there are fewer police around to respond.  Exhaustion eventually brings on sleep despite these disturbances.

The first several years that I lived here, I had to stay in the city for most of the summer, due to family obligations.  But now that I’m a missionary serving the whole of Europe, I have not only the opportunity, but good motives for getting out of the city during the summer months.  I wasn’t really thinking about what I would be getting out of when I set up this summer’s travel schedule.  But when I realized that I would be spending very little time in the city this summer, I was very glad to know I would be gone most of the time.  In fact, I’m leaving tomorrow.

God is good!