Author: LAH

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God is Faithful

[4th in a series about God’s provision]

Our income stopped.

Suddenly, with little warning, all funding sources dried up. There was just enough trickling in to pay our office overhead, but no salaries. We said good-bye to our office assistant, who needed a job with a paycheck. Our other co-worker, Cecilia, drastically simplified her life, and incredibly stuck with us as she undertook her own journey of faith.

And there we were. Pete and I had a mortgage. We had the normal expenses of owning two cars, living in a house, and wearing clothes. We had a habit of eating regular meals. We had one daughter, still in college, who was planning a wedding. Our other daughter, already graduated and gainfully employed,  was more and more frequently referring to this guy named Jeremy. Hmm. Parents aren’t that dense.

I should add here that we regularly tithed to our church. We gave additional support to an assortment of ministries and missionaries. Never, not once, did we believe that God was judging or punishing us for any extravagance or lack of generosity on our part. It was with a clear conscience that we went to God and asked,

“So, what’s your plan to pay for all this?”

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No Visible Means of Support

[3rd in a series about God’s provision]

Pete was still capable of earning a lot of money as a consultant to the computer industry. In fact, it was just as we were in the process of moving that he was offered an absurd sum to put his ministry on hold for three to five years while he worked for a secular company. Then we’d have plenty of money to do whatever God wanted. This was so clearly a test, it wasn’t even a temptation. We had our marching orders.

We arrived in Colorado with no visible means of support.

The unexpected extra profit from the sale of our Silicon Valley house covered our expenses for the first couple of years. Then that was gone. While we prayed hard and followed excellent advice for generating donations, our income was still far short of what we thought we needed. Maybe we weren’t very good at raising funds. As “behind the lines” workers, living in beautiful Colorado, we certainly didn’t measure up to most people’s notion of supported missionaries. Maybe, however, God decided it was time to answer my prayers from five years earlier.

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When God Makes No Sense

[2nd in a series about God’s provision]

I’d like to tell you a little about our life in the last few years, as one story illustrating God’s goodness in trying circumstances. Perhaps it will give hope in a dark season.

I’ll start sixteen years ago, although that is certainly not the beginning. We were living near San Jose, living the Silicon Valley lifestyle. We had the requisite house, two cars, two kids, and a steady, dependable income that covered our expenses with a bit left over.

Even at this point, we weren’t quite typical. Pete worked as a computer technology consultant. He was paid on an hourly basis by his many clients. As his rates climbed with his growing expertise, instead of raising our standard of living, he started to work less. We determined how much money we needed to live on, and stopped there. The time this generated was donated to various local Christian mission organizations.

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The Value of Hard Times

Hard times. They come and go.

There will always be some people who are wealthy enough not to be affected by the vagaries of the economy. Their retirement funds are overflowing, their income is secure, and they are living their version of the Good Life. On the other hand, as Jesus said, the poor we will always have with us.

Some times are harder than others. We are certainly in a time of economic crisis, and we are possibly only at the beginning. Who knows how bad things will get? More and more of us will be identifying with the poor that Jesus referred to.

But, is this cause for concern? What about all the promises of wealth and prosperity in the Bible? Will we, as Christians, experience the same financial hardships as non-believers?

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Sitting in God’s Chair

Life was hard. Even though we were blessed in many ways, life was hard. The year was 2002. Pete was working overtime, and had been for ages, but he hadn’t been paid in months (this comes with the territory, when you have a non-profit ministry). We had just moved my elderly dad from his dream home in Mendocino, California to Colorado Springs. I had done much of the packing and unpacking. Now he was having medical issues that required an enormous amount of my time and attention.

I was in transition from full-time mom to empty-nester. I was feeling worthless, at a loss without a well-defined role to tell me who I was. We desperately needed money, but I couldn’t get a normal job because of my responsibilities in caring for my dad.

Looking back now, it doesn’t seem that bad (or I’ve grown since), but at the time, between the financial stress, the stress dealing with my dad’s medical issues, my lack of purpose, and the stress on our marriage, I was seriously struggling.

It’s when we’re feeling miserable that God is most able to get our attention. I was writing volumes in my journal, crying out to God, asking Him for direction, for encouragement—pretty much asking for anything from Him, just so I could know He was aware of me. All I got was silence. I’d never been stretched so thin.

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My Favorite Salmon Dip

Adapted from Best Recipes of Alaska’s Fishing Lodges, by Adela Batin

  • 8-oz. pkg. low-fat cream cheese
  • ½ C low-fat sour cream
  • ¾ tsp. minced garlic
  • ½ tsp. dried dill weed
  • 1 Tbsp. minced parsley
  • 1 Tbsp. lemon juice
  • ½ tomato, diced
  • 3 green onions, chopped
  • 8 oz. smoked salmon or 7½-oz. can salmon with skin and bones removed + ½ tsp. liquid smoke flavoring

Combine cream cheese, sour cream, garlic, dill, parsley, and lemon juice; blend together until smooth. Break salmon into flakes. Gently fold salmon, tomato, and green onions into cream cheese mixture. Serve with crackers or baguette slices.

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Our Easter Story

In honor of the resurrection of Jesus, I’d like to share our family’s personal story of God’s miraculous healing.

Holiday. It comes from “holy day.” To me, Easter is the most holy day of the year. The resurrection is the centerpiece of my faith in a God who saves.

As Paul told the Corinthians, “… if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins. Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ are lost. If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men. But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.” (1 Cor. 15)

These verses have extra meaning for our family because of something that happened in 1997. While in Pretoria, South Africa, to speak at a conference, my husband, Pete, was walking across the street when he was hit by a speeding car. The events that followed cemented our faith in a God who works miracles—a God with resurrection power. It’s the perfect Easter story.

I’ll let Pete tell you what happened in his own words.

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Dating God: Without Ceasing

“Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. (I Thessalonians 5: 16-18)”

Yeah, right. Rejoice always? Pray without ceasing? In everything give thanks? For years, I’ve relegated this verse to my list of “it would be nice, but it just isn’t realistic” Bible passages.

Lately I’ve started thinking that maybe I’ve been wrong to do that. God isn’t making a suggestion here. This is an out-and-out command. So I asked God to teach me how to rejoice always, how to pray all the time, how to be thankful in all circumstances.

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A Silicon Chicken

I’ve been pretty serious lately, so I think it’s time for some silliness. I was just out in the chicken coop collecting the day’s eggs, and it hit me that hens are the epitome of brainless inanity. Therefore, today’s posting is about chickens. More precisely, it is a somewhat (but not very) fictionalized story about how we got our very first chicken, Bawky. The year was 1986….

I was scraping cereal off the last of the morning’s dishes to the accompaniment of Bert and Ernie, when the doorbell rang. Dropping the bowl back into the soapy water, I grabbed a tattered dishrag to dry my hands. The sound of running feet heralded the breathless arrival of two little girls, curious to see who was at the door. Chubby hands gripped my knees. We opened the door together. Continue reading →