The Beloved Jester

Almost 2 months ago tonight, I wrote this in my journal:

Lord, I felt so beautiful before You tonight. So fearless. Not because of anything I've done, but because of Your abounding love. I stand in reverence of You. When I went in from playing sports, I was sweaty, my hair was flying everywhere, and my feet were filthy, but all I could think of was "How beautiful are the feet." How beautiful are my feet to You.

And as all of us expressed our love to You together, not because it was some formal service we'd prepared for, not because we were supposed to, but because we wanted to, because we came just as we are...I felt that we were truly the Body. It wasn't about how we were playing or singing, it wasn't about how we looked or even acted, it was about You. Your joy, Your peace, Your fatherhood, Your promises, Your Spirit.

Now, tonight, I am a world away from that place, and yet I'm not.

I'm still with Him.

And I felt His goodness all day today. As I rode my bike to the market, I rejoiced that the sun was out, yet the air was cool. I watched the fruit sellers ride slowly down the road, grinning at me and towing what must be 1,000 fresh oranges, or 50 stalks of sugarcane, behind them in a wooden cart. I loved seeing the stalls softened with knitted hats, scarves and shoes that were probably made by the women who sell them, and seeing a woman seated there and knitting something else, needles in hand and baby on lap. I bought a welcome mat with apples on it, and I bought a couple of jars from that lady I always buy jars from. I smiled at the random "hello!"s that followed me as I passed, and I felt like I was home.

A friend from the university walked me home tonight after English Corner to make sure I was safe, but I don't think I would have felt alone anyway.

And it's not because I'm over culture shock, or because I'm getting used to things, or anything having to do with me, really.

It's because of One who walks with me. Sometimes I don't feel Him there because I don't allow myself to be completely broken and open at his feet. But when I admit that I am nothing, that I can do nothing, that I don't have anything He hasn't given me, and that I will give up everything that I might gain Him...it's then that my cup overflows. My love for people does not come from me; it comes from Him. My love for life does not come from me; it comes from Him. My love for Him doesn't even come from me, but from Him.

Last night, I sang to Him by myself with just as full a heart as I did two months ago with brothers and sisters. I humbled myself before Him and before the people around me. I realized that it's not about me looking competent; in fact, it's about me looking completely foolish. If He is the King, then I am the court jester, living only to please him even if I look foolish to everyone else, unworthy to even lay at His feet.

But then He tenderly washes mine and calls them beautiful.

Other Moments

I enjoy sharing funny and inspiring stories about living in a foreign country. They're fun to tell, and more importantly, fun to live.

But then there are other moments.

I've been struggling a little bit lately with all the new things here. Things I'm not used to. I usually have an adventurous spirit and I'm always up for trying new things and being uncomfortable, but I will admit I actually struggle to leave the apartment at times.

First of all, I'm living by myself. Walking to class by myself. Sometimes eating by myself off in a dark corner of campus, just to get a moment of not being stared at, pointed at, or laughed at. Even babies in strollers have pointed at me, mouths gaping, because they recognize that I'm "different."

I feel so helpless. I have to go to multiple stores around town just to get basic sandwich fixings. Currently my refrigerator contains 1 kiwi, 1 half avocado, some ham, cheese, and a couple of uncooked eggs. And then when I do cook those eggs, I must do it on a gas stove...and I still haven't figured out how to hard-boil them just right. Also, I'd never had to peel two completely black layers off a grilled cheese sandwich until recently.

You know, the last time I came here, it was with 6 other crazy Americans. We stood out together, made cultural and language mistakes together, and tried new things together.

It's much different doing it by yourself.

How humbling is it when you can't even say what kind of meat you want in your dumplings? How frustrating it is when you know you've already learned the word, but of course you can't think of it in just the moment you need it. And then when I manage to stammer out a few awkward phrases in the language and I'm hoping to be told "good job," instead I am immediately corrected at such a fast pace that I can't understand a word they are saying.

I know I should just sit with random people at lunch, make goofy mistakes, and laugh at myself. But sometimes, that's much easier said than done.

Sometimes, I just want to speak English.
Sometimes, I just want for no one to stare at me like I just stepped out of a UFO.
Sometimes, I just wish I was back in Austin with that Starbucks right down the street.
Sometimes, I just want to not be humbled constantly.

And then I walk the 35 minutes back to the apartment, by myself, fighting back tears and secretly hating the loud honking cars and pedestrian-homing-missile bicycles that I have to dodge just to get across the road, with a bag of dumplings in one hand and a bilingual dictionary in the other, and fling my stuff down and cry and pray and sing out to the One who fully understands English, who would even understand nonsense words were I to utter them.

In some moments, that's the best you can do.

A Different Answer

Saturday night, I was swarmed by countless eager little faces, all being pushed forward by proud mothers to speak to the foreigner and show off their newly-acquired English skills.

That's right, I visited an English Corner downtown. It's rare that they have a "real foreigner" in the mix; they usually just practice English with each other. So I received tons of questions:

"Do you have an iPhone? an iPad?"
"Have you seen Transformers?" "...Why not?"
"Do you like to play sport? What is your favorite?"
"Do you like the food here?"
"Can I have your phone number?"
"What do you think of the protests on Wall Street?" (okay, I was a little taken aback by that one)

and finally...

"What is your favorite festival? Christmas, right, because you are a Christian?"
"What do you do on Christmas?"

Well, we open presents, eat, maybe drink hot chocolate, spend time with family....

"How do Christians celebrate Christmas?

Uhhh...the same, except we might go to church and pray before we eat our meal.


Right then, I wished I could give a different answer and still be honest.


[AC] Promo 2011 from Advent Conspiracy on Vimeo.

Elephants and Termites

Two lifelong friends sit at their favorite restaurant, discussing their day, their work, and their kids. These women have so much in common – the same worldview, the same church, the same hobbies (they always go play tennis while their husbands golf together on the weekends). They have the kind of friendship in which one can confide anything to the other and know that her secret will be safe. They’ve helped each other through family losses, emotional battles, countless tears and joys…nothing can tear them apart.

And then it happens.

One woman says, “I just can’t wait for Halloween! I’m having so much fun helping Jenny look for her Hermione Granger costume.”

The other woman bristles a little on the inside. How can her beloved friend not realize the origins of Harry Potter and Halloween? Why is she exposing her child to such things?

“Oh…well, our family doesn’t believe in celebrating Halloween. And we don’t allow our kids to read Harry Potter.”

Silence. Tension. Judgment on both sides. (How can she take the fun of Halloween away from her kids? And Harry Potter has so many Christian themes!) All of a sudden a wall comes between them.

Between women who have helped each other through near-divorces, through crises of faith, through the loss of one parent to suicide, another to a car accident.

I heard the phrase “It’s not the elephants that will get you, but the termites” a while back. In context, it’s saying that it’s the day-to-day troubles that will wear on you, rather than the catastrophes. But I think we can also apply this to our relationships, and it’s no different among believers. We split over the small stuff.

Two people may agree that trusting Jesus bridges the gap between us and God. They may agree that we have an obligation and privilege to always help out our fellow man, even if it means trouble and sacrifice for us. They may agree that human life is always sacred, even if the person doesn’t “deserve” to live, or even if the life hasn’t appeared yet. They may agree that family is a precious treasure that should be preserved at all costs. They may agree that educating people and then giving them a choice is better than just telling them what to do.

But then one drinks a glass of wine, or the other doesn't allow her kids to watch a certain movie, and the friendship is permanently strained.

It’s amazing how angry we get, how emotional we get, over the things that don’t matter in the long run. And everyone has a valid point. Many conclusions can be arrived at logically, and everyone can poke holes in everyone’s arguments and find Scriptural evidence for both stances.

Paul had a similar situation going on in his baby church in Corinth. Some people had come from backgrounds of worshipping other gods and taking part in their rituals and feasts. Now that they were Christians, they had a huge problem with continuing to eat that food because it reminded them of their past (a valid point). Therefore, they condemned other Christians who ate food that had been sacrificed to these gods, saying that they were sinning. These other Christians responded that all food is God's food, so why does it matter? (also a valid point) Here is how Paul responds in 1 Corinthians 8:1-9:

“Now concerning things sacrificed to idols, we know that we all have knowledge. Knowledge makes arrogant, but love edifies. If anyone supposes that he knows anything, he has not yet known as he ought to know; but if anyone loves God, he is known by Him.

"Therefore concerning the eating of things sacrificed to idols, we know that there is no such thing as an idol in the world, and that there is no God but one. For even if there are so-called gods whether in heaven or on earth, as indeed there are many gods and many lords, yet for us there is but one God, the Father, from whom are all things and we exist for Him; and one Lord, Jesus Christ, by whom are all things, and we exist through Him.

"However not all men have this knowledge; but some, being accustomed to the idol until now, eat food as if it were sacrificed to an idol; and their conscience being weak is defiled. But food will not commend us to God; we are neither the worse if we do not eat, nor the better if we do eat. But take care that this liberty of yours does not somehow become a stumbling block….”

These people in Corinth are squabbling over termites. Paul brings them back to the elephants, the things that really matter. The important thing is that we know and love the Father, and that He knows and loves us. Whether we do this thing or we do not, we agree that there is one true God, we agree that He alone created everything, and that we exist and live our lives for Him alone. As for this lesser thing, no one’s choices make him better than his friend. However, make sure to love each other in everything, and don’t do or say something in front of your friend if you know it’s going to hurt him.

So next time your friend disagrees with you about a termite issue, your first reaction may be to bristle, and that’s normal…it’s human nature. But remember what Paul says in 1 Corinthians, remember the elephants you do agree on, and respect your friend’s motivation that led to his or her decision. To love and honor God. To love and honor others. And love edifies.

up, up, and away.

Hey everyone. So that Asia place I said I would be heading to? That time is finally here. I even have an early Chinese birthday cake to prove it (my real birthday is October 21st). My first plane leaves in about 5 hours. From there it's a 25-hour adventure through 4 total airports, on 3 total planes. By myself. Woohoo!

But you know, as I remain wide awake when I should be asleep (well, on American time at least...it's just after lunchtime where I'm headed!), even in the middle of the excitement I feel a total peace and calm. It's not because I'm a superhuman, and it's not because I'm sure everything will work out just fine when I'm traveling tomorrow or when I'm actually over there. I might arrive before my luggage, I might miss a plane, I might be practically violated when they're searching me at customs. And I might experience some intense culture shock. But I know Who I'm following. Jesus is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Wherever I am, He is my home, and I take all my peace and comfort from that.

It's not that this transition doesn't feel a little weird, it's not that it isn't super hard to leave family and friends, it's not that I don't have questions about how my life will look or how I will change the next couple of years, and it's not that I don't have questions about what on EARTH to do when these two years are over. But none of that really matters. Many of us say we believe God has a plan for us, but I'm determined to not just say it but actually believe it. As I spend time in sweet, sweet prayer with Him, I'm just reassured all the time that my gentle, loving Heavenly Father has planned my steps, and He walks before me and behind me. What do I have to fear?

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight."

He's not up in the air, directing me to turn this way and then that. He's down here in the dirt, working beside me, behind me, and before me in the trenches, fashioning the paths himself...and all his handiwork is marvelous. That my soul knows well.

So, Blogger is having some issues right now and apparently some people aren't able to comment on my posts. I'm tempted to go ahead and migrate to WordPress, but I'll hang around for a bit and see if they get it fixed first. If you would like to contact me, please email me at becky@tundrius.com. I would love to hear from you.

A 12-Year-Old Girl

A 12-year-old girl can.
She can still imagine whole new worlds out of something as mundane as neighborhood construction, or she can build a catapult in science class.

She can be silly and carefree, but she can also be troubled by injustices in the world.
She can exude the charms of a little girl one minute and the wisdom of a woman the next.

But she must be encouraged. She must be loved.

A 12-year-old girl has to be told she can.
A 12-year-old girl has to be told she is worth something.
A 12-year-old girl needs to be reassured of her unique beauty and value as a person.
A 12-year-old girl needs her family to stand behind her and encourage her to reach her goals.

But a 12-year-old girl, from America to Algeria, is told too many messages, and they all conflict.

At 12, a girl is tempted to turn outdoor exploring into indoor mirror-staring.
At 12, a girl begins to see her body as an object of eyes, rather than a God-created vessel with hands and feet.
At 12, a girl's dreams begin to shatter as she is told what society expects of her and realizes she does not measure up.
At 12, a girl is discouraged from pursuing a better world so that she can pursue the favor of peers, of eyes.
At 12, a girl doesn't know who to listen to because everyone seems to have different ideas of who she should be.

And at 12 in some places, she doesn't even have a choice of which voice to listen to.

She may be forced out of school.
She may be forced to marry.
She may be abused by someone she never chose.

But if we,
for the sake of the 12-year-old girl we once were,
for the sake of the 12-year-old girls we know,
for the sake of the 12-year-old girls around the world who we would love as sisters if only we knew them,

if we invest in them, nurture them, applaud them, encourage them, become their voices,

they will reinvest 90% into their homes, pulling entire families and even villages out of illiteracy, malnutrition, and poverty.
they will live longer for every 1 year of primary school they are able to attend
they will be able to have children when they are physically and emotionally ready, and childbirth will no longer be the #1 cause of death for teenage girls in the developing world.

But we have to choose to start the Girl Effect.
The clock is ticking.






If you also believe in the impact a 12-year-old girl can have on her family, community, and country, please spread the message about the Girl Effect on your blog, Twitter, or any other means. To see posts from other people who believe in the Girl Effect, go to this page: http://www.taramohr.com/girleffectposts/

Why go, and not just give?

David Platt answers a question in his book Radical that I've been confronted with as well in the past. I thought I would share his response with you all.

I remember when I was first preparing to go to Sudan, a nation impoverished by civil war. The trip was going to cost me around three thousand dollars. It wasn't easy to travel into Sudan since they were still at war, and we would have to charter a plane and spend a few extra days to make that happen. I remember one dear lady in the church coming up to me and asking, "Why don't you just send the three thousand dollars to the people in Sudan? Wouldn't that be a better use of money than your spending a week and a half with them? Think of how far that money could go."


I wrestled with that question. Was I wasting these funds in order to go when I could simply give the money instead? Should I even be going? I continued wrestling with that question until I got to Sudan. There I had a conversation with Andrew that shed some light on the question.


Andrew was sharing with me about his life in Sudan over the last twenty years. He had known war since he was born, and he described facets of the suffering and persecution his people had been through. He told me about the various groups, most of them secular or government organizations, who had brought supplies to them during that time, and he expressed thanks for the generosity of so many people.


But then he looked at me and asked, "Even in light of all these things that people have given us, do you want to know how you can tell who a true brother is?"


I leaned forward and asked, "How?"


He responded, "A true brother comes to be with you in your time of need." Then he looked me in the eye and said, "David, you are a true brother. Thank you for coming to be with us."


Tears welled up in my eyes as the reality of the gospel hit home with me in an entirely new way. I was immediately reminded that when God chose to bring salvation to you and me, he did not send gold or silver, cash or check. He sent himself - the Son. I was convicted for even considering that I should give money instead of actually coming to Sudan..... Was I really so shallow as to think that my money is the answer to the needs in the world?"




Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that giving money isn't a wonderful thing. It's beautiful when we sacrifice so that others may have food or shelter or medical care. But going somewhere puts a face on the people to whom you're giving. They are no longer an object of your charity; they are your brothers and sisters. Your dear friends. The same things that hurt them hurt you, and you cry with them instead of just for them.

I remember well when my friend Kevin came back from Rwanda. He worked with a humanitarian organization and grew a deep, deep love for the Rwandan people. It wasn't just that he went, it was what he did when he came back. He talked to all of his friends constantly about how wonderful the Rwandan people are, how kind, how hospitable, how hopeful in the face of heartbreak and past suffering. Because he went, many people, including me, now feel a connection with Rwanda, though we have never been there. We can put faces to the country, and we feel like we have a genuine connection with its people. So not only does going to another country make you a brother or sister to the people there, it stirs a deep love in others when you come back.

Money alone is not the solution. Giving money is just one part of giving our love...and our love - that force that says, "You are my brother, and I hurt and hope with you" - is what really has the power to heal broken nations and broken people.