My guess is that you know what I am talking about. I hear people wrestling with this all the time, whether it is in college classes or in conversations with friends or in books like Evolving in Monkey Town (good read, by the way). The interesting thing is that this question and the ensuing doubts often lie dormant until one finally starts to pay attention to the suffering that has been around the entire time. The fact that we didn’t ask the above question before is most likely due to the fact that we ignored the suffering in the world because we were too self-preoccupied, we ideologically justified its existence, or we intentionally insulated ourselves as a way to pacify our guilt and fear. Thus, at least for me, I could hold an unreflective and unwavering certainty about God’s existence and goodness because God seemed to be treating me fairly well. (This post is not really about when one encounters great, personal suffering. That produces a different set of emotions and issues.) Thus, the view of God that I held in the midst of a “non-suffering world” could not remain intact once I discovered that, in fact, this world is full of suffering. And the questions and doubts and laments rained down.

The above question is not one that can easily be answered nor discarded as irrelevant. I carry it around like a thorn in my flesh, with it, at times, swelling to the size of a 2-by-4. And I hope that all of us are in communities that will bear the weight of this question together.

But, recently, I have begun to wonder if this correlation between an increased awareness of suffering in the world and an increased propensity to question the existence and goodness of God is somewhat of a luxury for those of us who can talk about all the suffering that is out there. I wonder if things change when suffering is no longer a notion out there but a reality, a person, a people right here. (I am not sure if this is correct since, for me, suffering is still primarily out there.)

This struck me recently when we went out to a village to visit Diow. Something happened during this rare occasion when I actually stepped outside and suffering was right here. It happened when I experienced that suffering is not some idea, but it has a face and a name and a story. And, interestingly enough, that story is not entirely defined by what I call “suffering.” During that time with Diow, befriending Diow, eating with Diow, working alongside Diow, I didn’t question the existence of a god; I was in the presence of God.

I think I’m starting to perceive something, though it’s still on a very small-scale. That is, when suffering is out there and doubt and questions rule the day, my primary feeling is pity. And while pity is better than indifference, it still comes from a place of power and privilege. And the reason it’s hard to believe in God while thinking about suffering, while standing in a position of pity for those suffering, is because God isn’t there. God is in a manger. God is touching lepers. God is on a cross. Because God is about compassion (literally “to suffer with”), not pity. Suffering, for God, is not out there; it’s right here. And in that one moment of relinquishing my pity for compassion, I saw that God had been there all along.

Because, while the suffering is still real and tragic, the potential for love, the only thing greater than suffering, is only possible when we move into suffering, learn its first name, and make an effort to help carry its weight. God experienced that on the cross and continues to work for love in that same way.

So, I’m not saying that we shouldn’t question and doubt in light of the problem of suffering. We should continue to have hard conversations about theodicy. In fact, I think it is a must because we should never feel comfortable about the pain of the marginalized, the downtrodden, the victims. But, my point is that I hope I have more and more courage to ask them their names, to sit at the table with them, to suffer with them. And may I discover that my questions about God’s existence and goodness are swallowed up by the presence of a suffering-with God.

I have noticed, in myself and in the church in general, that we are a people who desperately want resurrection without having to go through crucifixion first. We want to find life without having to lose it first. There are at least two reasons for this, one theological and one sociological.

First, the most common view of salvation is cross-centered, in so far as it is Jesus’ death that saves us. This gets reduced to the idea that Jesus died (past event) so that we can we will live (future event). However, the problem is that the cross becomes something only Jesus has to endure, and it is for our benefit. He gets the cross; we get the resurrection. Our view of salvation allows crucified with Christ to become nothing more than a symbolic act on our way to resurrection. No actual dying has to take place in order for salvation to happen.

Second, most of us enjoy a relatively comfortable existence where death and suffering are anomalies, not the norm. Thus, it doesn’t seem necessary to die in order to gain life. Life actually seems to come fairly easily, even to the point where we might feel entitled to it. Therefore, it makes perfect sense for resurrection to come at a minimal cost to us. It is that to which we are accustomed.

Thus we want our resurrection, hold the crucifixion.

We want our new life without death.

Victory without defeat.

Glory without shame.

Healing without pain.

Faith without doubt.

Blessing without sacrifice.

What this eventually can do is train us to think we are entitled to resurrection—it is a guarantee. We begin to maneuver ourselves in order to get resurrection. But, the Christian witness says that the only thing we can maneuver towards is crucifixion. We choose death, the way of the cross; it is God who maneuvers us towards resurrection. Like Jesus, we have no control over being raised. But, we can control whether or not we will lay down our lives with faith and hope that God will do what only God can do.

I want to say more about this as it relates to various aspects of life, but I particularly am wrestling with this in the context of the contemplative life. I have often struggled with the practice of encountering God in solitude and silence. I feel like I approach prayer and contemplation with a sincere heart, seeking the presence of God. But, it is absence that I frequently experience.

I wonder if part of the problem is that I constantly hear people talk about retreating in prayer and, sure enough, they hear the voice of God. Seek God for a few minutes or hours, and God will certainly speak up. (I am in no way saying that God doesn’t do this at times, but it may not necessarily be the norm.) The immediacy in which God apparently shows up creates an expectation, in those who hear of those experiences, for an assured appearance. We are accustomed to immediate gratification, and we often treat prayer and contemplation in the same way.

And yet, throughout the Christian tradition, exemplars of the contemplative life report of long periods of time where all they heard was silence—a dark night of the soul, if you will. It is almost as if something had to die before they heard a voice.

So, here is my question (and I really don’t have an answer yet). What is the proper posture, or mindset, or expectation when engaging in the practices of silence and contemplation? Should we approach these practices with the expectation that God will speak to us? Is that, in some way, claiming that we have some control over whether or not God speaks to us in those moments? Or, should we approach these practices with no expectation other than making ourselves available? Thus, our participation in that moment is primarily that of dying to ourselves. We will have to do the hard work of shedding all the thoughts, behaviors and concerns that keep us from sanctification. Our task is to face our demons and lay ourselves out bare. And we do this knowing full well that we could quite possibly be left there for a bit. For, once again, the ability to bring resurrection is out of our hands.

Therefore, when the periods of absence and silence and death come, we will not be anxious. Nor will we feel the need to manipulate an experience, a pseudo-resurrection. We can be non-anxious during those periods because we will get the only thing we have power to get—death. And the good news is that we will not be distracted or seduced by some “spiritual experience”, or pseudo-resurrection. We will then, when God chooses to do what only God can do, experience resurrection–that is, the real presence of the living God.

My grandmother (MeMom) passed away a few days ago, and the funeral is today. She was an amazing woman, and it is extremely difficult being on the other side of the world today. Since I can’t be there in person, I sent a short video sharing my feelings about MeMom to be played at the funeral. Here is approximately what I said. (I am posting this because I want to honor her by telling of her influence on my life.)

I am honored to be able to say a word today about my grandmother, MeMom.

I must begin by saying how much I long to be there with you, friends and family, and especially with you, DadDad, as we mourn the loss our precious MeMom and celebrate the life behind her and the resurrection life ahead of her. It is a day like today that causes me to lament that fact that I am so far away. I question why I would choose to be on the opposite side of the world and have to miss this opportunity to honor and remember my MeMom. And yet, ironically, it is because of her (and DadDad) that it is this way. Because her faith and faithfulness that I witnessed and experienced throughout the years has shaped me and called me to a life of faith and faithfulness as well.

You see, MeMom was a lot of things, but, through the eyes of this grandson, when I see her, I see faithfulness. When I would come to church here growing up, and she was sitting in that same pew next to DadDad, week-in and week-out, I see faithfulness. When she would spend hours sorting clothes at the Christian Service Center, I see faithfulness. When she had Gatorade constantly stocked in her refrigerator for sweaty boys playing basketball, I see faithfulness. When she would spend entire days going from one grandkid’s game to another’s recital to another’s meet to another’s play to another’s match, I see faithfulness. When she would make the frequent drive to Sweetwater to diligently, compassionately, lovingly care for Mama (her mother), I see faithfulness. When she spends 7 decades serving, supporting, enjoying, loving DadDad, I see faithfulness. And I am not the same.

So, today I honor her, and her faithfulness, with words. But, tomorrow, and the next, and the next, I hope to honor her by striving to imitate the faithfulness that she demonstrated to me and to so many of you.

To her church, I pray you will recognize and build upon her legacy of faithfulness that has so greatly shaped this community.

To our family, I pray for peace as we long for her home cooked meals on Hillview and grieve the loss our loved one. And for joy as we share memories of past times together and anticipate reunion on that glorious day to come.

And to DadDad, I love you.

It struck me, as we watched old home videos tonight, that I am missing out on life.

Tomorrow is Dax’s due date, and we are anxious for him to arrive—really anxious. Thus, for me, today was as an exercise in passing the time. What mindless chore could I perform? Which piece of prose could distract my attention? I am so ready for our new future to begin that the present has become a nuisance in my life.

That is why I was more than happy to oblige Brynn’s request to watch videos of when the girls were babies in Abilene—anything to take my mind off of my tardy future. As we watched those memories in our home on Westview, I began to long for those days again. Life was so simple, so peaceful, so joyful those many days ago. The more we watched, the more I felt my heart splitting between the impatient anticipation of what is to come and the grateful grieving of what has passed.

Like so often in my life, I desperately wanted to pass this time, this now, this present that interrupts my cherished past and my hopeful future.

And then I looked down and saw my two precious girls lying across me. The curly blonde hair that tickles my nose. The blue eyes that twinkle with the reflection of the TV. The laughter that bursts forth at the simplest events. And the question struck me like a 2-by-4 over the head. “Who would ever want to pass THIS time?” Life, and life to its fullest, was literally sitting in my lap. And, somehow, I had allowed myself to miss out on the sacrament of this moment.

So, I ask myself these questions. What would change if the past and the future did not distract from the present, but, instead, enhanced it? How often do I miss out on God’s presence in the mundane of today because I am waiting for the spectacular of tomorrow. What would I experience if I could appreciate the then while still fully living in the now?  I am not really sure myself, but I would like to give it a go and see what happens when one embraces the sacrament of the moment.

It was one of those moments that catch you by surprise. I was standing outside the play area at the new mall in Chiang Rai, watching Brynn go down slides and jump into the ball pit. I began to look around and noticed a huge crowd of people (the movie theater is nearby and Transformers 3 was premiering). And it hit me that, of the 500 or so people in that common space, my daughter was the only person without black hair that I could see. I got a little chuckle out the fact that my blonde, curly-haired, blue-eyed daughter stood out in that place like a Democrat on the set of Fox News (or a Republican at MSNBC—whichever metaphor you prefer). I smiled because I am thankful that she will grow up in a place where not everyone looks like her—a gift of immeasurable value.

However, my moralistic visions quickly faded as I watched the reality that she faces living in this place. My oldest is a social butterfly who loves to meet and talk with new people and play with good friends. But, sadly, that beautiful trait has run into a barrier of language for two years now. She has done a great job adjusting, but I know it is hard for her at times. Well, this day, I truly noticed the sacrifice she has made by our family moving here.

After my momentary chuckle at her distinctness in that place, I saw her watching this 6 or 7 year-old girl stacking blocks in the corner. This little girl was on a mission to construct a masterpiece and was enjoying every minute of it. I watched as Brynn sensed the fun that obviously resulted from designing this work of architecture. She inched closer in an effort to contribute her skills and energy to this all-important task. And when she reached down and picked up her first block, constrained by the silence that results from being a 5 year-old sojourner, the girl snatched it away in an attempt to halt this unwanted intrusion. And despite this unwelcoming reception, my daughter’s only response was a smile, accompanied by a second brick offering to her new “friend.”

And this was the moment that caught me by surprise. All the loneliness, pain, confusion, longing that has been brewing inside me, as one in a strange land, I could now see in the eyes of my daughter. Though she smiled, in an altruistic attempt to ease the discomfort of this girl who is so different, and yet so similar, I could sense the hurt that came with the loss of another friend at the hands of Different. And as she mustered the strength to keep smiling and handing over bricks, tears were my only offering.

And in that moment, when I would have surrendered to the powers of rejection, silence, and difference, my daughter stood her ground and smiled through the pain. While I tried to regain my composure, Brynn offered another brick, despite the ungrateful manner in which the little girl snatched it out of her hand. And then another. And another. Until the unlikely happened. This little girl, who, a moment before, had declared that Different would win the day, offered a brick to Brynn. And with a clarity that can only be communicated outside of spoken language, she invited Brynn to join her in completing the elaborate masterpiece she had begun. The smile that was once an attempt to disarm was now a smile of pure bliss.

And through cloudy vision and muffled sniffles, I declared under my breath, “The kingdom of God has drawn near.”

For, though it might sound like an odd statement to make in this seemingly trivial moment of parenting, I saw that “he himself is our peace, who has made the two groups one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility… his purpose was to create in himself one new humanity out of the two, thus making peace.” I said it because I witnessed it in the life of my daughter, this daughter who so beautifully seeks to “destroy the barrier” and “make the two groups one, “ whether at school, at the grocery store, or at mall playgrounds. And she does this in the midst of constant confusion and rejection. She does it with a smile on her face. Now, I have no idea if I am any good at this mission work thing, but I am confident that the reign of God is breaking in here because of the love, perseverance, and hospitality of my daughters. And, for that, I am thankful.

Well, I would love to conclude by reporting that Brynn and that girl became the best of friends and meet at the playground every Saturday. I mean, that would preach. But, the reality is that, after about 10 minutes, the little girl saw a group of kids she knew and left Brynn standing alone in the ball pit. With that, the pain and confusion returned—in me, at least. And, my daughter will search for another to whom she can offer a brick. And so, while I declared with confidence that the kingdom of God is here “now” a short time before, I am also fully aware that the kingdom of God is also “not yet.”

Thus, whether in the face of oppressive empires or disorienting injustices or immeasurable suffering—or standing outside of mall playgrounds—we hear him say, “Yes, I am coming soon, “ and we pray, “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.”

We first rented our building back in February. We have spent the past few months renovating and decorating, and it feels good to have it operational. Here are some before-and-after pictures.

View from the street

From the front looking back

From the back looking to the front

And now…

เตาอิฐ พิซซ่า (The Brick Oven)

Before we officially opened we hosted a soft opening for our close friends and neighbors. This allowed our employees to get some practice before we opened to the public. We began the day with an opening ceremony out front. We were especially blessed to have Robert Reagan and Kelly Davidson come and read Scripture, say prayers, and speak blessings over us, our employees, the restaurant, and Phayao. It was such a fun and exciting day for all of us.

Getting ready for the opening ceremony.

We had one day to make adjustments after the soft opening in order to get ready for the grand opening on July 23rd. We had no idea how the first day would go or if we would have many customers. However, at an hour and a half before closing, we had already completely sold out of pizzas. It was an amazing and exhausting day. Our employees did a great job, and I think our customers were pleased. It was a great beginning to this new endeavor.

Here’s a picture from opening day.

It’s been awhile since I have updated about what all the girls are up to these days. Here are some pictures and descriptions to help you get a glimpse of how much they’ve grown.

Brynn and I have been having so much fun with homeschool since we started at the end of May. She is on the Thai school calendar, and the year starts in mid-May and ends mid-March. She goes to Thai Kindergarten every morning from 8:30-12:00, and then I pick the girls up and bring them home for lunch, nap for Meg, and Kindergarten homeschool for Brynn. I was nervous about starting homeschooling, but God has been so faithful in blessing our time together each day. Brynn LOVES school—any school! Whether it is Bible class, Thai school, homeschool, you name it, if it is a class, she loves it! This is a tremendous blessing for a homeschool mom when your one student is so excited to be there, excited to learn, and loves the whole process! It reminds me of all my students when I taught middle school. She can read and write in Thai and now is beginning to read and write in English. It amazes me to watch her as she soaks it all in.

A typical school day

My favorite line she says to her pregnant and often tired mother, “Mommy if you are too tired to do homeschool today, that is ok, but if you have energy, I can do it and that is ok too!” Sweet girl is always so aware and loving. I also heard her tell her baby doll the other day, “Today we are going to do homeschool a little bit different. Mommy is going to take a nap and then we’ll do school.” So, yet another beauty of homeschool–the flexibility! However, as many of you know, I am a structure-loving person so we don’t stray off the daily schedule very often. However, I’m also a pregnant, nap-loving person, so there are those days! I am very thankful for this opportunity that I probably would’ve chosen to pass up if I was not living here. Our time together in school has been bonding and given us another point of mother-daughter connection that is blessing both of us.

Brynn’s favorite things to do these days are riding her Hello Kitty bike, playing Mommy/baby with her baby dolls, playing with her sister, having homeschool, swimming, and being with friends.  Her energy and zest for life bring us great joy!

First day of school this year

Meg is 3 ½ now and started going to Thai Pre-K in May. She looks so precious in her uniform—all three of them. Cutest Pre-K girl around, I must say! And if we thought Brynn’s curls stood out in the crowd at school, Meg’s blonde hair takes it to a new level! She comes home from school every now and then with her hair re-done and looking so cute. The teachers love to play with her hair when she lets them. She is learning the 44 consonants of the Thai alphabet and the 26 letters of English, so she also is a little sponge these days. She is so proud of herself when she shows us what she is learning. She has homework like her big sister and that makes her feel pretty grown up, too. The teacher at school the other day made my heart swell with pride and love as she told me how she is so impressed with the way Brynn and Meg care for and look after each other at school. She said they are always so sweet to each other and asked what I did at home to teach them that. I had to smile and thank the Lord for the beautiful relationship they have as “Team Sisters”! I pray He will bless their relationship all of their lives as sisters; it is so fun to watch.

Friday is traditional Thai uniform day

Meg goes to school half-days as well and is in the classroom right across from Brynn’s. I wasn’t sure how Meg would do at first, she’s been my little sidekick for so long now. But she has embraced school and loves every minute of it, which gives me peace that it was time for her to start. She has changed so much over the last few months, and it is hard to believe she is older now than Brynn was when we moved here! Meg has a passion for life and a strong spirit. She has very definite opinions and ways she wants things done. Her teacher at school said, “I don’t think you need to worry much about this one, she’s got some fire in her!” Oh my Meg, your strength and laughter bring blessings to our home.

Meg loves to show-off her muscles

Meg’s favorite things to do these days are also riding her bike, swinging, playing Mommy/baby with her baby dolls, swimming, and playing with her sister.  She kisses my belly every morning before school, every day before her nap, and every night before bed and says, “I love you, Brother!” It melts my heart every time; she is so sweet.

Ready for P.E. day

Later that afternoon we had a party at our house with all of her friends.  Most of her friends here are boys, so no dressing up or anything–more like pink cupcakes and decorations with lots of running around and playing tag in the rain.  It was a fun time hanging out with friends and neighbors.

It was a great couple of days celebrating with Brynn; she loved every minute of it!  It is hard to believe she is five and in kindergarten. She has a million questions every day, makes us laugh with great stories, never stops moving or dancing, loves homeschool and Thai school, loves to be read to, builds pillow forts, plays with dolls, sings, and is full of energy! Brynn, with her beautiful curly hair and bright blue eyes, continues to bring such life and joy into our home. It has been a wonderful 5 years with this girl!

I love this picture of Ella running out of the baggage claim towards Brynn and Meg. Those were four excited girls!

Sporting new jammies from Mimi. I think Brynn and Meg had those smiles on their faces for 10 straight days.

The girls loved the cousin photo shoot, or at least the first 3 minutes of it.

Ann leading the troops into the grocery store, umbrellas and all!

The woman watching them eat lunch through the window is indicative of our lives during their visit. Four blue-eyed girls attract lots of attention in Phayao!

Somehow Ann convinced Amy to jump on the motorcycle for a short trip to the beauty salon. She was a good sport, though I noticed that she didn’t ask to ride it again.

Rick, on the other hand, rode the motorcycle more than he probably ever wanted to.

The girls liked playing in our “yard.” This is what you do in Thailand during the month of May.

It only took Ella a few days to get the “wai” down. She is so adorable.

The Carders even took a ride in the Fikes’ Vespa. Quite a sight, and they got a few laughs and stares as well!

Splashing around in a waterfall outside of Phayao.

A minister’s work is never done, even on vacation! Rick jumped right in and joined our trash clean-up efforts while he was here.

They joined us for church at the Fikes’ house.

Cousins and best of friends.

The Carders were able to get an early tasting of our brick oven pizza.

We spent the last couple of days in Chiang Mai, which included a ride in a tuk tuk.

We took the kids to ride elephants and watch the elephant show. Ann pulled the pregnancy card and didn’t ride. Can’t say I wasn’t jealous. Some of the thrill wears off after the 8th or 9th time. But, the girls loved it.

The fans like the elephant show (Well, look at our faces, the girls’ expressions are a little harder to read

Four brave little girls.

The girls love their Aunt Amy and Uncle Rick.

We stayed with the Reagans in Chiang Mai and took this picture right before taking the Carders to the airport. It was definitely hard to say goodbye (both girls wailed as we left the airport), but we thank God for the time we spent together and that we could show them our lives here.