My "German Lutheranism" Is Showing

I'm sorry... Your what is showing?

That's right, my German Lutheranism. And if you are a German Lutheran, than the only explanation you need may have been in the title.

Before I dive too far in, let me catch you up on my recent adventures in life. I am currently in my second student teaching assignment. My first one took place in a combined 5th and 6th grade classroom with 15 total students in Utica, Nebraska in a small, German Lutheran (Lutheran Church Missouri Synod) town. (Ah, there's that term again!) I loved it, I was comfortable, totally the setting I grew up in.

Fast forward 8 weeks to the beginning of March. You find me in Idaho, still teaching in a Lutheran school, but now in a strong Latter Day Saints community with very, very few Lutherans, and even less Germans (or so it seems). I work with an average of 75 students every day ranging from grades 6-8, and I am teaching in a departmentalized setting. Slight difference from both my childhood environment and my first student teaching experience.

As I finish up my third week here and look forward to reaching the halfway point, one of my main struggles as been going to church. Not so much the motivation part as much as just the differences that I notice between this church and my home church - every time I go, I notice these differences, and it has become such a huge distraction to my worship experience.

Now. Here's where the German Lutheranism comes in. Allow me to make a list of the differences I have noticed from what I'm used to versus the church I'm now attending. (And please, feel free to laugh. They're ridiculous.)

• We don't use the hymnal for liturgy - it's printed in the bulletin.
• We don't use the maroon hymnal (AKA, the newest Lutheran hymnal.) (Sidenote, we do use the blue one, it's not the bright red one from days afar.)
• We are not formally dismissed from the Communion Table until the entire congregation has gone through at the Lord's Supper.
• There is a small explanation before every Bible reading.

Now, ok, you have to know that even as I go back and look at that I have to say to myself "Steph, common, those aren't reasons to write a blog post!" Please hear me out - if you were not born in, raised in, and then chose to continue being a part of the same church community (or same type of church community,) then maybe small differences are hard for you to understand. I've heard it referred to as a "worship language", and I think that's the best way to describe it. My worship language has been the same for the past 22 years, and to change even a little bit of that has been hard for me. (Because, again, stubborn German Lutheran.) This has been a minor struggle for me since getting here, especially because I have accepted a call (a job offer) to this school/church community for this fall. 

Which is where I was when I went into Bible study today. We have been studying Acts, and it has been wonderful. I love digging deeper into Scripture to learn more about anything, really. My mom has always told me that Scripture is "living and breathing," that no matter how many times you read it, there's something new to experience, something about God that we didn't understand before, or something about our Salvation that finally clicks into place in our brains. 

Today we began Acts chapter 11. (We didn't get very far, but it's because there's so much to consider in the first several verses.) If you are not familiar with Acts, I highly suggest finding a way to dig deeper, find a study companion (either in human or book form,) talk to your pastor, do something to understand this book better. I have been so blessed by a deeper understanding of its content.  To bring you up to speed, at least from chapter 9 (where I came in,) Saul has converted from a man who persecutes Christians to a man who is now dedicating his life to sharing the Good News, becoming an Evangelist. Peter has been told by God that "what God has made clean, do not call common." (Acts 10:15, ESV) In other words, God has not only given His people permission to eat foods that were before considered unholy, but God has also indicated that because of Christ's death, there is now a fulfillment of the Law. That means that spending time with the Gentiles will not leave a person ceremoniously unclean - rather, God reminds us of His love for all people, that Christ died for all people.

We're missing a lot of the story in there, but that basic idea leads me up to chapter 11 of Acts. Peter returns to Jerusalem after having converted a Gentile family to Christianity - he's stayed with them, eaten in their house, and held company with them - all of which, at this point in history, can result in a person of Jewish background, like Peter, ceremoniously unclean. The Christians (with their faith in Christ and his death and resurrection,) have been following Jewish rituals up until this point, not really having fully considered Jesus' death a fulfillment of the Law given to the Israelites. When Peter returns, he is not welcomed by the leaders with a "PRAISE JESUS, Peter got some new believers!" Nope. Their response is more along the lines of "So, how unclean are you, after spending all that time with Gentiles?"

Ok, so now that all that is said, it brings me back to my current struggle. Change. (And all the Lutherans said "Amen!") But today was a huge eye opener for me: I've been like the leaders in Jerusalem. "Oh. We use that hymnal." "Oh. We use this form of worship." (Ugh, I'm disgusted with myself just reading that!) But here's what I haven't been seeing the past three weeks. I haven't seen how "toning down" the service from what I'm used to can reach out to so many more people than just the people who are already Lutheran. The communities that I've grown up in have been German Lutheran since their conception in the 1800s. That's not where I am anymore. I have come to realize that it's going to take SO much more than just opening the doors and posting the hours of the service in order to invite others to join the body of Christ.

Pastor put it perfectly today. There's two components (important components) of Christianity. Faithfulness and Evangelical action. The first is making sure that the church is following God's Law and teaching His Word in its truest form. The second is making sure that we share the Good News. Now, churches should have both. But what happens when you only have one or the other? Only faithfulness: "Here's our building. The doors open at 8:30. Service is here, and here. Gosh, I hope people show up and learn about Jesus!" Done. Only Evangelical action: "Well, we like everything the Bible has to say that makes people feel good, and we want to make other people feel good as well. We'll pick this and that, but focus mostly on the good stuff."

Do you see how powerful it can be when a church combines the two? Can you see how it was intended that the church combine the two? Now, I'm not going to sit up here on a high horse and say "THIS CHURCH IS DOING IT WRONG, AND THAT CHURCH IS DOING IT WRONG." That's not my job, or my goal. My eyes were opened today as to what I'm used to, what I'm comfortable with, and that's a more "faithfulness"-oriented church setting. What I see now is that maybe I'm being exposed to a more healthy balance of both faithfulness and Evangelical action. 

I've said it before on my blog, I believe that no matter where I am, I'm called to be a missionary. What I haven't chosen to consider before is that God's work is not always comfortable. It doesn't mean that I get to go to church every Sunday and sit in a hard pew (oh yeah, we don't have pews either. Another silly stumbling block for me...) and sing out of a hymnal and follow the liturgy like I'm used to. Maybe it means that I adapt to a few minor changes that really don't affect my faith at all, but that maybe make those who are not born, raised, now-by-choice German Lutherans more comfortable in joining a church, in learning more about Christ, and overall, making that initial step toward faith and eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Acts 11:18a - "When they [the church leaders] heard these things they fell silent. And they glorified God..."

Thoughts on Moses's Mother

Exodus 2:1-10

Today is just one of those days - we all have them, you know the kind: woke up feeling completely exhausted and a little under the weather, had a headache since 7 AM, technology seems to have declared war on me for the day, and on top of all that, I have homework and other daily stresses that come with living in the midst of a sinful world.

Nothing seems to want to work in my favor.

As I read Exodus chapter 2 this evening, I'm given the opportunity to reflect on the struggles of Moses's mother, along with every other mother who bore a baby boy during the time of the Israelites' slavery in Egypt.

How incredibly stressful, disappointing, and ultimately crushing it must have been to carry a child for nine months, only to bear it and realize that either a) the baby was going to be taken by Egyptian soldiers or b) you'd have to eventually find a way to get rid of him before he got too old to keep.

I can't even begin to imagine the heartbreak the baby's mother must have felt as she laid her 3-month-old son into a basket and set him afloat in the Nile, depending on nothing by the love and grace of God and the watchful (but ultimately incapable, should crisis arise on he river,) eyes of her young daughter.

Though we may not have days as bad as letting our babies go on rivers, we've experienced heartache, doubt, fear, frustration. We know what it's like to have awful days, to be in a complete lack of control over what happens next, and to have to depend completely and fully on God for what comes next, be it good or bad. Along with that full reliance comes the trust and faith that, no matter what the outcome may be, we have a powerful and loving God who takes control for us and works everything out for His glory.

God worked the baby in the basket out for good. The baby was rescued, and then returned to his birth  mother until he was weaned. (Imagine her joy!!) The baby went on to become a great man and leader of God's chosen people. The mother fully put her trust in God, and He worked it out for good, in so many different ways.

The next time you experience stress, or maybe if you're experiencing it now, remember that there's a plan, a purpose. You may not see those come through your current struggles, but always have confidence in His love, His protection, and His planning skills. He always has your best interest in mind.

Romans 12:12 - Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.
Psalm 28:7 - The Lord is my strength and shield. I trust Him with all my heart. He helps me, and my heart is filled with joy.
1 Thessalonians  5:16-18 - Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus. 

Wrong Place at the Right Time

First off, I just want to say that I feel a little bit hypocritical saying this. Since I started this blog, some two, two-and-a-half years ago, I have always said that no matter where you are, you can be a missionary, that you can do outreach, that you can be a light. I'm not here to say that I'm going against my word.

What I am saying is just because you believe something doesn't always mean that you feel it.

It's May 26th. A year ago tomorrow, I would have been in the Omaha airport, preparing to take off for my second trip to Russia and the Baltic States. Two years ago today, I would have been five days into my first trip over there.

Today, one of my best friends left for London. Another friend of mine is with her college choir traveling across Estonia and Lativa, soon to be Lithuania and Russia. Natalie, a girl who went with me on my first trip, is posting pictures from her excursions on her current mission trip.

And here I am, in Nebraska.

Visited my mom at camp this weekend, since I had a three day weekend. Was walking around with a friend of mine, someone who has grown from one of my campers in the past, when I was a staff member at this camp, to a junior counselor, to being on staff. Today, as we were in Wal-Mart and she was asking me all these questions about being a staff member, she turns to me and says "Steph, when are you coming back to camp? I mean, to stay?" Not the first time the thought of returning to camp full-time has occurred to me. I mean, I'm not leaving the country this summer. I could have come back to what used to be my second home, my favorite place on earth, my mission field of choice (as though we get to choose where our mission fields are...) before Russia.

But I'm not coming back to camp. I'm in Seward working for the summer.

Just got off of a very nice, long Skype date with my boyfriend. Haven't seen him since May 11, won't get to see him until June 6, and that visit is looking more and more brief as our scheduling continues. We've been in a long-distance relationship since January, and it's not going to be a small-distance relationship for at least seven months, potentially a year+. I miss him terribly, and our time together requires careful planning, travel expenses, and taking precious time off of work and out of paycheck.

Seeing someone I love and spending time with him has suddenly become an achievement, not an every day joy, because I'm in Nebraska and he's in Missouri.

The last time we were together, we took our sisters to see Wicked. We ended up getting stuck in Lincoln on the way home because of very very bad weather, and we spent hours trying to decide what our safest options were, because we were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I'm not necessarily in the wrong time now - when it comes to serving others, to loving God with actions and service, there's no wrong time. And in all reality, there's no wrong place.

But I'm stuck in one of those ruts - it's not a deep one, but it seems to be a fairly long one, almost like a ditch that I'll have to walk in for a while before I find a decent way up to the easy road. It seems very easy to point to different places on a map, or different faces in my heart, and say "There. That's where I need to be," or "That's who I need to be with."

I'm finding these thoughts to be dangerous temptations and distractions. I'm tempted to think that because I'm not in a certain place or with certain people that I am useless, or that my work is meaningless, and I am gently reminded by our loving Savior that this is very much not the case.

I'm not in Russia, I'm here in Nebraska. And do you know what I'm doing because I'm staying in the States? I get to help out with RFKC again this year, something that conflicted timing wise with my mission trip last year. Because I'm in Nebraska right now, I get to share God's love with children who have never known any sort of love from anyone. That's what I get to do because I'm in the "wrong place."

I'm not working at camp this summer, I'm working at my school, serving people in various capacities that I never expected to enjoy. I get to prepare the dorms, the living spaces, for students who are coming to the school perhaps for their first time. I get the opportunity to make school feel like home to them, to create a clean, welcoming environment that will make them feel safe and comfortable. I also have been blessed with the opportunity to prepare and upkeep one of our dormitory buildings for service men and women who are working in the tornado-damaged areas nearby. I may never meet them and get to thank them for their services, but I get to make sure that while they're in Nebraska, they come back from a hard day's work to a comfortable, clean living space. That's what I get to do because I'm in the "wrong place."

I don't get to see my boyfriend every day. But I do get the opportunity to experience what a distance relationship is like, and I'm convinced that this will someday be something that I can look back on and be able to connect to someone else with because I've been through this experience. He and I are also learning more about God's love, and His constant presence, something that I'm always grateful for when I'm away from people I love - I know I can always count on my Heavenly Father to be constantly present both for me and for those who I'm missing. That's what I'm learning because I'm in the "wrong place."

Satan is the father of lies, and I do not hesitate to use that title now. He uses my doubts, my fears, my worries, my moments of sorrow to convince me that I'm in the wrong place, that I can't really glorify God or rejoice in His daily gifts because I'm in the "wrong place."

Tonight, I rejoice in the loving kindness and love of my Savior who pulls me close to His side and reminds me that none of these things are true and that, when it comes to service in His Kingdom, there's absolutely no such thing as a wrong place.

Goodnight, friends. God bless you, be you in the "right" or "wrong" place.

Mas

Mas. The Spanish word for more.

That's what Christmas becomes when you take Christ out of it. Now, I will now claim that this is an original thought. I'm sure someone else has thought of it before.

This was all occurring to me as I sat through a rather tense (at least for me) Christmas Eve celebration. This particular family believes that holidays are meant to be celebrated for the purpose of seeing loved ones, tasting everyone's cooking abilities, and giving each other gifts. It also seems to be a prime time for practicing one's debate skills and seeing how long one can be in the lime light of the evening.

Tonight's discussion turned to the recent issue of Duck Dynasty and the controversy over one's rights to record their religious beliefs. What a beautiful night to remember where it Christian beliefs came from and to be thankful for the babe who grew up to be our Savior!

Instead, our host, gracious though she was, chose to voice her disdain for public Christianity. How awful, on the eve of Jesus' birth.

It made me stop and think how ugly America's Christmas has become. We've become so focused on the way-to-early Christmas things being sold, the sick and semi-dangerous shopping rushes, and who will produce and receive the best gifts, which, lest we forget, are given in remembrance of the most Precious Gift, our LORD and Savior, Jesus Christ. We've lost our focus, and I would like to bring it back before the next generation celebrates their first Christmas.

As my ranting session comes to a close, I'd like to share a classic on this eve of CHRISTmas, and wish you all a safe and blessed Christmas that you are able to celebrate, share, remember, and give thanks for with family and/or friends. God bless you, readers.

Linus tells it like it is.

Finishing Up Entries - Video

Final Day

So, this isn't actually a journal entry - Hospital 8 kind of took it out of me, so what I'm blogging now is from my memory and my photo library.

We had a really great last day of mission work, and it was really hard to leave after such a great day. We started out at Kingasepp, which is sponsored in part by a church in Hastings, the same one that Michael (the one we nicknamed Coach,) goes to. We met a few of the kids, but most of them were at summer camp. The ones we met, though, were ADORABLE. I latched on to a super shy little girl, who wouldn't even look at me, even when I gave her bubbles. This is one of the best pictures I got of her:

I mean, we got a little smile out of her, but not much of one. Not yet, any way. There were two other girls that came in to interact, and they LOVED the bubbles! They played with Michael (the nonCoach one... It gets confusing...) the entire time we were in there. They were all sorts of giggly and happy to accept fruit and gifts from us. 

Eventually, my little friend got involved with them, and then she opened up and smiled to. I found out that the girl in the blue dress is sisters with her, and when the older one pulled the younger one in for pictures, I started to get some smiles, and she even came up and blew bubbles in my face! (By the way, I may have been cleaner when I left that orphanage than when I entered, what with about three containers of bubbles emptied onto my face...) Here's my favorite picture of the sisters:

 As we drove to our last orphanage of the day, it kind of hit me: This was going to be it. This was my final day with my "Russia family," my last interaction with kids in an orphanage, my final moments as a missionary. At this point in the trip and in my life, I wasn't sure if I'd ever be coming back. I was taking so much in every day, that I hadn't really considered the job offer from Priozorsk. I wasn't sure if being a missionary was what I was supposed to do, or if I would ever make it back on even a short term trip. These kids were going to be my final interactions, as far as I knew.

I tried really hard to not let that affect my attitude as we entered our final orphanage, one that we had never visited before. The Bible story, led by Michella, Michael, and Coach, went great. The kids were very polite and very attentive. When we were handing things out, one of the things we handed out was a soccer ball, and we were asked to play with the kids. That's all we did, for a good thirty or forty-five minutes. As we played, a huge thunderstorm started rolling in, but nobody really seemed to care. We had such a great time, even if we did get badly beaten by the Russian kids... Yeah, sorry American soccer players, but we kinda ruined your reputation... We were not good, but we were entertaining, and that was what was important.

Sunday, June 9, 2013: Day 14

Today was extremely emotionally challenging for me. We went to Hospital 8, which is the hospital for elderly people who are homeless. I tried to prepare myself mentally (we had gone there last year,) but I still wasn't ready to go back in. As we pulled in to the tight driveway, I started to shake. I was crying by the time we got out of the van.

When we got past the awful staircase that patients are bounced up when they're brought in, I locked up. It was so hard for me to consider going back, and once we got into the rooms, I had to force myself to smile - those people don't need any more tears.

Karen helped me out, though - getting involved takes my mind off all of it. Karen had me spoon feed a guy who couldn't si tup, who could barely support himself to lean up on his arm. It really did help me to help someone else. When he (Nickoli was his name,) was done, he just held my hand and stared at me and smiled at me. He spoke very little English, and my Russian barely gets me through "What is your name?" For a while, we just talked to each other in our own language, had a conversation that I'll never know the literal translation to, but could see the meaning to it in his eyes. I left his room and couldn't stop crying.

The lead paint is still peeling. There's still too many people to a room. The food looked atrocious. The bandages were less than fresh. That place isn't a hospital - it's a slow torture chamber, and I left people in there. Again.

That has to be the worst part - walking away. I didn't recognize anyone in there, which means ,more than likely, the people we saw last year have passed away. The chances of anybody recovering in that situation are slim. I have to wonder how many people do walk out of there - but then I stop, because I'm afraid of the true statistics.

I feel bad for not taking more pictures (I took 2 and then had to stop,) and for not making more powerful connections, like I did with Nickoli. I just couldn't make myself move. I just stood in the hallway and absorbed everything - the woman who said "Don't waste a Bible on me - I'm nearly blind, close to dying, and I'm a Christian. Give that Bible to someone who needs it;" the 33-year-old woman who is stuck in the hospital; the woman curled up in the fetal position, unmoving, apathetic, basically ready to go; Nickoli, barely strong enough to prop himself up on his arm; the 56-year-old war vet who is nearly completely healthy except for his missing limbs.

Images like that are engraved in my mind, forever.