an amazing opportunity!

This past Wednesday, a good friend of mine asked me over for dinner with her family (they've become my Azeri family over the years I've been here) and several of their family friends.  When I accepted, she told me the occasion: they had invited a Mu||ah to pr-y blessings over their new home.  What an opportunity!

It was an amazing and bizarre experience (two adjectives that I could use to describe nearly everything that happens here).  First of all, I was starving.  I didn't eat lunch since the dinner began at 4pm.  But really, that meant that the Mullah showed up at 5pm, and then chanted from the Qu-ran for two hours, calling on the names of Mhmmd and A||h, while leading everyone there in physical room-cleansing and soul-cleansing motions.  Though I chose not to participate in the motions she was leading, I did bow my head with them, though the G I was calling on was not the gd of the Qu-ran, but the King of Kings, the Lord of Lords, my Father and their Father.  The sp!r!rual atmosphere exhausted me to the point that I had to actively not fall asleep--it was one of the strangest sp!r!tual things I've experienced here.  With every breath I took in, I called on JC to be in that room with us, and called on the Spirit to be working in the hearts of the people there, and with every breath out I was telling myself, "J, you're in control of your body.  DO NOT FALL ASLEEP!  This is important.  JC, keep me awake!  DO NOT FALL ASLEEP!"  Truly, it was that strong.  S@tan is exhausting.  

The good news is, I stayed awake.  (I mean, can you imagine the reaction of the women around the table if I, covered out of respect like the rest of them, fell sounds asleep into the plate of sheep guts in front of me?  Bad news bears.)  The better news is that they gave ME the unexpected opportunity to also pr-y a blessing over their home!  I prayed in the name of the Sav!or of the world and the Desire of all Nations, asking his blood to cover this home and the hearts of all who sat around the table with me. I asked boldly that he make the Truth clear and evident to each of them, and disinvited S@tan in the name of JC.  INCREDIBLE.  The enemy has been defeated.  Please ask for my friends to find FREEDOM!

Below are a few pictures.  I even snuck one of the Mu||ah on my phone :)  

Setting up the table with my Azeri family:

The Mu||ah:

With my dear friend at her dinner table:

Love to all of you from far far away,

JaEDV

flights, arrival, and my first week back.

Hi from Far Away!  (it's SO good to finally be able to say that.)  I'm back, and it feels like it should--like home.  

My flights over were fairly uneventful.  Below is a brief and hilarious recounting of each of my seat neighbors.  They were all so different, but were all entertaining and awesome and strange.  But mostly strange.  

Flight #1: Muskegon, MI to Chicago: I sat next to a man in a business suit who had a vintage tie clip on like my grandpa used to wear and smelled unmistakably and overwhelmingly of pretzels.  I kid you not, people--PRETZELS.  Like, so much so that I had to stop myself from turning to the people behind and in front of us and pointing at this guy, asking them, "pretzels, right?  you smell that?"  If this flight had been any longer than the 24 minutes it took to cross Lake Michigan, I would have walked off that flight smelling like pretzels, too.

(is it ironic that on my layover in Chicago, I bought a pretzel from Auntie Anne's?)

Flight #2: Chicago to Frankfurt: I stood in the group 4 boarding line with an uber attractive gentleman (I say uber, of course, because he was German.) and secretly asked the powers that be to make him my seat-partner instead of the obnoxious fanny-pack-clad Barcelona-bound tourists in line behind us.  Request granted!  Boom.  Good thing I didn't smell like pretzels, right?  It was pretty awesome, even if it did take me a few minutes to not laugh on the inside at his thick German accent.  He threw my 40 pound carry-ons into the overhead bin like they weighed nothing.  STUD.  Needless to say, good flight.

Flight #3: Frankfurt to Far Away: I shared a row with a guy named Ali--we had an open seat between us.  I slept for a good part of this flight, but while I was awake, I couldn't help but stare at Ali.  Why?  Because I have never, EVER met someone more terrified to be on an airplane.  He white-knucked his armrests and whimpered and closed his eyes and whispered inaudible pleas to who even knows through our entire take-off, and repeated this routine at every little bump or drop or turn.  Hysterical.  We each had a few languages up our sleeves, and found one we had in common…I promised him that the plane would stay in the air, and he promised to take me out for dinner if we landed safely.  Since I had a pretty good feeling that we would, in fact, land safely, I redirected that invitation quickly--maybe if we land safely, you should go celebrate with your WIFE!  Point made.  He didn't talk to me for the rest of the flight, but did give me a thumbs up and a wink at the baggage claim.  I grabbed my bags and boogied right out of there.  Da svidanya, Ali.

Which brings us to here, a week later.  It's indescribably good to be back with these people I love, in this place I love.  I truly feel like I haven't missed a beat, seamlessly fitting back into the life and language and relationships I left a year ago.  

Life here is good and life here is hard, and every day I call on my King for his mercy on me and my friends and this country.  

IT'S BEEN WONDERFUL 

• It's been wonderful to hug my dear friends and catch up on their lives!  My dearest Azeri friend met me at the airport only to hand me a teddy bear and a flower and kiss my cheeks (I was being picked up by other Americans, which she knew!), and then she handed me a working phone to call her on in the morning, and left. 
• I've sat with my co-workers and cried and laughed with them as we've caught up on a year of news, and I've heard their stories and can see evidence of the King working in their hearts lives!  Hallelujah!  (and they've heard more about my beautiful nieces than they ever wanted to.)
• Yesterday I visited my favorite place in this whole city--Martyr's Alley--and quietly enjoyed the view of my beautiful city while I thanked my Father for bringing me back.  My heart is full.

IT'S BEEN HARD 

• It's been hard hugging three of my coworkers who have been hoping beyond hope to become pregnant.  Two of them are not, and the third just lost a pregnancy, her first ever after 3 years of marriage, after 9 weeks.  Their pain is palpable and rips at my heart and I have spent hours on my knees asking for His mercy on them.
• It's been hard hearing about the life choices my students are making.  One in particular has decided to begin studying on the track that will bring her to medical school (she's currently 15).  She wants to specialize in gynecology, and spends 3 afternoons a week volunteering at a local clinic, where, for hours, she watches abortion after abortion after abortion.  When she's lucky, she says, she gets to assist.  I'm weeping even as I type this, because I know her heart is hardened toward these tiny babies whose lives are being ended as she watches.  And she's still a child herself.  Maranatha, my King.  MARANATHA.
• It's been hard falling asleep at night.  As I type this, it's 1:39am.  An hour ago, I could hear one of my neighbors hitting his wife.  And now, I hear weeping.  I don't even know where it's coming from, but it's filled with sorrow and pain and all I want is to find that person and hold them and cry with them.  
• Today I learned that an old man I befriended in a village that I visited many times in the two years I lived here passed away this winter.  He was a shepherd and sought me out every time I was visiting.  He had me over to his home, and always sent me away with an overflowing bag of nuts and lemons.  He asked if I would marry his son or his grandson.  He killed one of his sheep and prepared a dinner in my honor.  He stuffed my pockets with hard candy.  I attended his 85th Birthday Bash (village style, of course).  We took a few pictures together, and I brought them back to him each time I visited.  He hung them up in his house, and his family displayed them at his funeral.  He lived a long life--he was 85 when he died.    85 years that he could have met his Savior.  I wish so deeply that I could go back a year and look into his eyes and shake his shoulders and help him understand, make him understand.  He died before he believed.  My heart very keenly feels this loss.  (pictures of this wonderful man at the bottom of this post.) 

The list of HARD is longer than the list of WONDERFUL only because it's easier to feel and explain the hard, but I assure you, joy abounds in my life here!  The wonderful is what pushes me into each day and propels me forward in this dark place--Gd has filled to me to the marrow of my bones with joy!  He is working here and it's humbling and exciting to be here among the work He is doing.

Please continue to lift up my sleep--I feel the battle here strongly in the night hours.  The Enemy is fighting for this place, and for my friends, and I will fight back with everything I have, and I know that many of you join me in that battle.  Ask for peace.  Ask for visible LIGHT and protection over my house.  He is always stronger.

Despite the HARD, He is good. In the midst of the WONDERFUL, He is good.  So to him, the good Father, I say thank you.

remembering Payton.

Before you read on, know this:

This is a story of VICTORY.

This is a story that doesn’t end with death.

This is a story of POWER and LOVE and FAITHFULNESS

AND

RESURRECTION.

It’s hard to believe that it’s April 13 again. Why is it that while the minutes and hours and days often crawl by, the years seem to pass in mere blinks?

A few years back, April 13 found my family in painful tears trying to understand an unimaginable loss—it’s the day our sweet Payton slipped far too soon from this world to eternity.

For a long time, I struggled to understand Payton’s death in light of Romans 8:28—“And we know that in all things G works for the good of those who love Him…”

This I knew: my family, we LOVED G.

This I questioned: that G could work this tragedy out for good .

If I’m being honest, I still sometimes struggle with this. But over the years, I have seen this verse affirmed to my family time and time again:

through the godly way his parents, my aunt and uncle, grieved his loss and honored his memory.

through the lives of two little Haitian babes being brought up in a family abounding in love to know and serve and live for the King of Kings.

and through this:

The most powerful tool I have over here to accomplish what it is I’m here to do is my story—a testimony of G’s faithfulness to me, of my new life in him, of how me called me and the whole world out of darkness into marvelous light. In this, Payton came with me to the ends of the earth, as his little life is an vital part of my testimony.

Recently, I had the opportunity to share my story, from beginning to end, with a dear friend here. While I’ve known her for nearly two years, our friendship is finally at the point where it’s transparent, genuine. Her willingness to be vulnerable in our friendship is something I would have never imagined when I met her, but over the last 20 months, I’ve watched her heart soften and her mind open. I've watched her smile reappear and joy characterize her life. That day, we were eating lunch together and, as happens occasionally by divine appointment, an unmistakable opportunity to share truth was dropped in front of me.

Naturally, I took full advantage of the chance, which found me sharing my testimony—a story that speaks boldly of the undeserved working of the King of Kings in my life. I was very, very real with her about sin and struggles and healing and redemption and new life. Through tears, I told her about Payton’s death and the pain and questioning and hurt that followed. His story brought her to tears—I knew her heart was hurting for the pain that mine had felt. Weeping may last through the night, but JOY comes with the morning: I got to tell her THE GOOD NEWS: that while death happens because of sin, we serve a G who conquered death. So even though our precious Payton died, he lives for eternity in the welcoming arms of our King. I had the privilege of sharing with her the sacrifice that our King made for us by sending his son to die. But death is not the end! He conquered death by rising victorious from the grave, so that we can live. I told her about the hope that this gives us—the hope of eternity with Him. And that hope? I have it. My family has it. All because of His Son. I told her that hope is available to her, and that it’s free. FREE.

Romans 8:28 has been affirmed to me in this—Payton joins me in bringing our King to this land.

The legacy of this little boy is POWERFUL, as is his influence on countless lives still.

The same Savior that captured my heart, the same Savior who calls the little children unto himself, the same Savior whose name I will live to make famous, who took the nails for the nations, who conquered death by rising victorious from the grave; My G, my King, my Refuge, my Strength, my Sustainer and the Lifter of my Head—this Savior holds Payton for eternity.

Because of the love of this Savior, displayed powerfully and freely and for the whole world, I can confidently affirm this: And we know that in ALL THINGS, G works for the good of those who love Him.

Miss you, Little One! Your cousin loves you!

EPHESUS-history and hilarity

We took one day of our week in Turkey to travel south to Ephesus and explore. We got on an 11-hour bus ride and rode overnight to Selchuk, the city nearest Ephesus, then took a taxi to the city. We ride busses in our country, but the buses in Turkey are AWESOME. They were comfortable, had TVs on each seat, and had wifi. What?! It was great 11 hours, and it landed us HERE:

I was in Turkey in 2002, and Ephesus was by far my favorite place we visited on that trip. It's even more incredible now than it was then--so much more developed! Hills that were covered in grass and shrubs are now gone, revealing incredible terraced housing underneath.

Isn't it amazing that the Apostle Paul lived in this city for THREE years? So incredible.

Baby figs:

This mosaic road is 2,000 years old, and so well preserved!

My team in front of the Library:
What would this trip be without a mid-air shot?

This is one of the areas that has been uncovered since I was last in Ephesus, the terraced housing. This is actually ONE house, used by a very wealthy Ephesian family. The crazy thing is, Marc Antony and Cleopatra visited Ephesus a long time ago, and they probably stayed at a house like this one. Crazy, right?

CONTEXT, folks.

Geoff in the Ephesian Amphitheater:

Jeffrey:
Stephen in the Church of the Virgin Mary:

When we got out the city, we came upon an area of shops with pushy souvenir-vendors. My favorite sign:
We kept walking through this area, and I was taking pictures and the boys got a bit in front of me. Now, I'd like to preface this little story by saying that I get a lot of unwanted attention from men where we live, and the boys on my team are really good about stepping in during situations like those. So, back to Ephesus: I was walking past these shops, and this guy in a striped shirt came up to me, and being super pushy, tried to get me to go into this shop with him--he was being obnoxious and wouldn't drop it when I repeatedly said no and tried to go around him. So Stephen turns around, steps back toward us, and just yells, "NO." I was thankful for his intervention, but even I laughed at his response to this guy. Anyway, I skirted out of the way, but Striped-Shirt wouldn't drop it, and just kept yelling at Stephen, "No what?" and "I didn't ask you anything!" and "I was talking to her, why did YOU answer me?" and so on. It was a little bit funny how angry he was! And it was a little bit funny that Stephen almost got in a little tiff with an Ephesian. Anyway, always thankful for my team who has my back. Especially with creepy men.

Next we went by minibus to the Temple of Artemis, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. There is very little left of it, as you can see here:

But what you can see is super tall...here's a little height comparison...can you see us way down there?

Next, we went back into the city, had lunch, and headed to the beach.

My feet in the Aegean Sea:

While I was taking pictures of my feet, the guys were a having a very manly competition of sheer brute strength, as you can see. Naturally, I decided to give it a try. I threw it like 7 inches (and that may or may not be exaggerating). Awesome, right? But because of my company, I would have won the woman's division.

Aaaaaaand then, the sun started setting. And this happened:

This too...Sistine Chapel in Ephesus?:

Then more displays of manhood:

Then, some stacking of people:

And finally, a little bit better use of a setting sun:

What's not to love?