A Different Kind of Faith

Over the years our family has seen our faith grow tremendously. As we took step after step of faith we did so tentatively at first, but with increasing confidence as we grew. We have seen thousands of instances of God’s miraculous provision, guidance, and healing. And now, more than ever, we find ourselves dependent on Him as we take the largest step we have ever taken.

Face it, it is no small endeavor to sell almost everything we have and move to another country. At present, we are still short of the monthly support we would need to pay our bills, yet we are ready to move as soon as our home sells. Further, our faith is required even now as we have a monthly shortfall in our budget of a significant amount. We have not received our entire paycheck for the last two months and have experienced some significant financial setbacks. And yet we trust, because God has always provided for everything we have needed…sometimes at the last possible moment.

So, last month when I felt that God was leading me to pray that we would received a workable offer on our home by a specific date (July 30th) our family did so, fully expecting God to answer that prayer. We prayed and fasted with passion, conviction and confidence believing that God would respond with a buyer. But he did not. And not only did we not receive an offer, not one person looked at our home over the two weeks we prayed that prayer. Ouch!

As the date came and went, I began doubting myself. After all, I had made this request known in a very public way. But after everything was done, God did not respond. Had I mistaken my own desire as the leading of God? And, in so doing, had I dishonored God and spread doubt in other believers? Those were good questions that needed to be asked. So, I did. And, as I sought the Lord for these answers, He showed me something about my faith.

You see, over the years I have developed my faith in God’s ability and willingness to answer prayer. We have learned to step off the cliff repeatedly in response to God’s voice, knowing that He will catch us. And that is a great kind of faith to have. But it does not represent the whole of faith. There is another equally important side of faith that is shown through our willingness to trust God when He does not answer our prayers or catch us when we leap.

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego had that kind of faith. As they stood before king Nebuchadnezzar they spoke these words:

“If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to save us from it, and he will rescue us from your hand, O king. But even if he does not, we want you to know, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up." (Daniel 3:17-18)

They did not walk in obedience to God because they knew He would spare them. They did so because they knew His way was best and He was trustworthy, regardless of the outcome.

Likewise, the apostle Paul speaks about faith in Hebrews 11, and as he does so he talks about God’s miraculous provision and protection for people such as Abraham, Jacob, Moses, Rahab, Gideon, and more. Each of them trusted God and saw His hand move in mighty ways. But Paul doesn’t stop there. He goes on to write this:

“Others were tortured and refused to be released, so that they might gain a better resurrection. Some faced jeers and flogging, while still others were chained and put in prison. They were stoned; they were sawed in two; they were put to death by the sword. They went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, persecuted and mistreated-- the world was not worthy of them.” (Hebrews 11:35b-38a)

These people believed, trusted, and followed God yet faced severe persecution and, sometimes, death. Does that mean their faith was less that those who did not suffer similar fates? Of course not. Faith is more than trusting God to provide and spare, it is also trusting God when He chooses not to.

This flies in the face of the American church that seems to thrive on promoting the concept that God wants us healthy, wealthy, and entertained. But it is central to scripture. As Job said, “Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him…” This faith has been absent in much of the teachings of the western church, and it is the most undeveloped aspect of faith in my own life.

As I write this entry, our home still has not sold and we are still short of vital funds that are needed for our ministry. But I know this simple truth: I will not follow God because of what He has done and what He will do for me. He owes me nothing; I owe Him everything. I will follow Him because He is good…and that does not change, regardless of the events of my life or death.

The Blessing of the Bottleneck

bot·tle·neck (bŏtˈl-nĕkˌ) – n - a narrowing that reduces the flow through a channel

Note: The photos in this posting are just a few of the photos that we have scanned to our computer and then thrown away this week. They are as follows:

1. My dad (circa 1960) – He passed away in 1996, and I still miss him greatly. There are days when I would simply love to hear his voice and smell his distinctive “dad smell” again.
2. Jeff McDaniel (from 1984) – He was my best friend in high school. He died four years ago of Lou Gerig’s Disease (ALS). We were “the two amigos” and our English teacher, Mrs. Hoots, used to joke that we were attached at the elbows.
3. Scott Stanze – He was a leader at Crosspoint Church when I was pastor there. He quickly became one of my best friends. He died suddenly of a heart attack in 2006. He was a huge Buckeye fan that I will miss until I see him again.
4. My old Highland/Fairview youth group. This was a photo taken in 1994 during a Kentucky Missions Trip. Every one of those kids (now adults) hold a piece of my heart.

As you all know, we have been in a waiting period for the last year. It was 12 months ago that we felt God’s call to move to Guatemala and over eight months ago that we put our home on the market. Since then we have been waiting.

But while we have been waiting, we have also been busy. Plans have been made, paperwork completed, passports issued, and our lives have been downsized. The downsizing has been done in stages as we have gone through our possessions numerous times, thrown away much, and sold even more. Each time we go through this process, we realize that we still have too much and need to reduce those possessions even more. But finally we are nearing the end of this process. Our house, closets, and storage rooms are nearly empty.

The reasons for this mass sell-off is three-fold. First, God has shown us that we have too much junk. Quite frankly, we have realized that we have wasted our time, money, and energy purchasing and maintaining things that we did not need and seldom use while billions in our world live without. That has broken us and moved us to downsize and remain downsized in the future.

Second, we need money for the start-up of our new group home in Guatemala, and one source for those funds is the selling of our possessions. As we sell our home, vehicles, toys, and clothes every penny is being designated toward start-up costs of this new ministry.

And finally, as we move to Guatemala we must go through a bottleneck. That bottleneck is a six hour flight to Guatemala City on which we can each take two suitcases. Those two suitcases must contain all of our clothing and possessions with which we will live for the foreseeable future. To ship additional items is expensive, so we will make do with what we can carry (plus about six cases of ministry equipment and supplies and seasonal items that have been carried over for us by ministry teams.)

Two years ago I would have said there was no way we could reduce our lives and household down to two suitcases each. But God has been gracious in leading us on a journey that has shown us what is really important and how little we really need. That enabled me to throw away large amounts of sentimental possessions on Tuesday. We filled-up the back of my pick-up truck with old photos, newspaper clippings, cards and letters, and more. I selected a small percentage of photos and clippings for scanning, but the rest went to the dump. Possessions that used to be considered priceless memories are now being sold on E-bay. Even as I type this my daughter, Brittney, is in the next room sorting through and disposing of many of her own sentimental items. And all this is happening because of the bottleneck that lies ahead.

Some of you are likely shaking your heads and thinking badly of us now. How could we give up so many sentimental  possessions? And, to be honest, I will admit that I would have likely felt the same two years ago. But the blessing of the bottleneck has been to reveal to us what is really important, and it is not the boxes of knick-knacks that have cluttered our storage for years. It is the people and lives they represent. And those knick-knacks don’t come close to capturing either the memories or the people behind them.

Further, we have a choice to make. We can cling to those things that are mere shadows of those relationships, or we can let them go to save real lives and love more people. I believe that, in light of God’s Word, there is little doubt what our Jesus would choose.

And so, we are facing another yard sale in which many formerly cherished items will leave our home. But we can let go and move on knowing that the memories they represent are forever, and there are still more memories to build. That is the blessing of the bottleneck.

Leftovers (A public confession)

Recently God has pointed out un-confessed sin from my past. While it is never pleasant when my loving Father takes me to “the spiritual woodshed,” this experience has been especially painful. Why? Because it has exposed a spiritual blindness and hypocrisy on my part that has left me deeply broken and ashamed.

This sin goes back to the almost seven years that I spent as pastor of Crosspoint Church here in Troy, OH. Our body of believers was made up primarily of low and low-middle income families, and offerings were almost always low. As a result, we regularly struggled to pay our bills. My strong insistence was that we always pay the bills outside the church before paying the internal bills, so I regularly received only a portion of my salary. Yet we always managed to squeak by as a congregation.

As the pastor, I served as the Chairman of the Elder Board and was the spiritual and visionary leader of the church. More than any other person I influenced our budget and its priorities. And, as the only salaried employee of the congregation, I was the one who was best positioned to encourage the church to steps of faith regarding our spending. Yet during my seven years as pastor we never once tithed to missions. (I feel dirty and ashamed having written those words and want to quickly delete this blog and start over with another topic.) I am not saying that we never supported missions, because we did. But the percentage of our budget devoted to reaching the world beyond our community was always very puny and never exceeded 3%.

The discussions regarded missions usually consisted of talk about “fiscal responsibility.” After all, if we are struggling to pay our rent and other bills it would be foolish to increase our budget for missions. Right? So, missions always received our leftovers, and there were very few leftovers to give.

I literally wince when I look back and think of how we managed to buy sound and video equipment, more chairs, poinsettias at Christmas, and other “essential supplies and equipment for ministry” while neglecting the most important use of our money. If only I had the opportunity to do it again, I would certainly do things much differently.

What makes this especially shameful is that I was living a double life. Wanda and I have been married for 22 years this month and we have always been faithful in our personal giving. Even through the very lean years, such as the one we are now encountering, we have not only tithed to our church, but have given as the Lord directed to support missionaries and meet needs in our community and around the world. And through those 22 years we have seen the miraculous hand of God provide for every need. Every bill has been paid and been paid on time. Sometimes the provision has come at the very last minute, but it has always come from the hand of our loving Father.

I share those details with you, not to make public our giving, but to show you the incredible disconnect between my life as a husband and father and my life as a pastor. Any rational person would recognize the faithfulness of God in my personal life and giving and translated that to my role as a church leader. But I did not. And that was my sin. As a result, for seven years we managed to keep a roof over our church and a decent sound and video system but neglected the great needs of the church around the world and turned a deaf ear to the cries of the poor, hungry, and dying. I accept full responsibility for that sin. It is mine alone as the pastor of that church.

Now my role is to challenge the church to look beyond themselves, see a dying world, and do something about it. I have a passionate message that burns in my heart that comes straight from the Word of God and calls the American church to sacrificial living and giving. But recently Jesus has turned that message around and delivered it back to me. And, as a result, it has broken me and changed me.

If I could spend those years at Crosspoint again, they would look much different. The first item we addressed in our budget would be missions as we sought the Lord for His heart for the world. Instead of getting the leftovers, we would give Him first dibs on our money. Then, from what remained, we would devise the rest of our budget. I am confident that, instead of struggling to pay our bills, God would have multiplied what remained and we would have spent it much better than we did.

But I can’t change the past. So I find myself grateful for the grace and mercy of God which is new every morning. I thank Him for this ongoing “woodshed” experience and the changes it is bringing about in me. And I thank Him that the future is still unwritten and I have a chance to give Him my first and best, both today and the days ahead.

Home

I am writing this blog during the final leg of our journey from Guatemala. We are currently in mid-flight from Houston to Dayton, and there is a beautiful sunset outside my window to enjoy. I am almost home.

Home. It’s such a powerful word. It is so easy to take for granted and not consider how precious it is…until we live without it for a while. But when we go without it for a few days, we begin to realize how wonderful it really is. Home.

This morning our team said goodbye to the kids at Hermano Pedro. That is always a difficult time. I kissed each child, told them “Te amo!” (I love you!) and choked back the tears as I left the wards. I believe each member of our team struggled with the emotions of leaving those children, teens, and adults behind. But we did, and we did so because home was waiting for us all.

When we arrive at the airport late tonight, each of us will be greeted by family members who will embrace us, tell us they missed us, and take us home. We will be anxious to share about our trip and hear about their lives while we were away. We will enter our houses, lock the doors behind us, and find ourselves in a place of love, warmth, and security. We will be…home.

I no longer take that concept for granted, because I am so frequently dealing with and working on behalf of those who have no idea what it is like to have a home. They only know of institutions. They experience a stainless steel crib, mass produced food that’s been pureed in a blender, a constantly changing parade of nurses or nannies, and long, lonely nights during which their cries are unanswered. For most of these precious people, trying to imagine a home would be like you and I trying to imagine a fourth dimension. It is nothing they have experienced before, so how could they put pictures and words to it.

This week our team has worked hard to show these children small glimpses of home. We have held them, sang to them, hugged and kissed them, and loved them. But these tiny tastes are still so inadequate because they will still spend tonight in the same cold institutions instead of in the security of a family. And that bothers me deeply. And I hope it bothers you. But I don’t want it to plague either you or I to useless guilt or pointless tears. I want it to drive us both to action. Otherwise it is simply empty emotions.

One of my challenges to the team this week was to consider the question, “What will I do about it?” In other words, now that they have seen the incredible needs of the children, having held them in their arms and looked them in the eyes, what will they do? If we go away having shed a few tears and loved a few kids, what’s the point? If we truly love the least of these, it will drive us to action. Emotion without action is not love.

I pray the day will soon arrive when my home will be in Guatemala. At that point, my goodbyes to these children will not be for near as long. At that point, we will become a real home for children who have never before envisioned what a home is. Meals patiently fed instead of dumped down throats. Real beds in real bedrooms with privacy and dignity. Family devotions, story telling, laughter, and hugs. And a whole lot more.

What will you do? Will you adopt a waiting child? Will you give sacrificially to an orphan ministry? Will you give to help a family bring home a waiting child? Will you go on a short term trip to hold and love them? Will you join us and help to open a second home in Guatemala? What will you do to help the word “home” become a reality for a child who has never know it before?

Daryl Fulp (on behalf of HfH June 2010 Guatemala Team)

Tension

(Note: After feeling fine for over 24 hours, Katherine once again came down sick last night and had to remain behind at the motel this morning. Then Rachel began to feel sick mid-morning and needed to be escorted back to the motel. Both are better now, but they missed our day with the kids.)

We spent our final full day in Guatemala at Hermano Pedro, and the day started off…interesting. When we arrived this morning we were met by the head Nazi…I mean nurse…who seemed to hate life in general and us specifically. Her scowl and snapping tone put our team off and ended with the two of us exchanging words. Of course, neither of us could understand the other, so I am unsure what words she exchanged. In spite of our best efforts to be friendly and helpful, nothing we did was good enough.

However, the day improved when I was able to arrange to check some of the little kids out for a trip to the park. We took along a couple of young people who were experiencing their first time in Guatemala and Hermano Pedro. One of them, Anna, was a unbeliever from Guatemala. I was able to share Jesus’ heart for a hurting world with her, so please pray that God takes those seeds and produces a harvest in her life.

We had a great time taking of shoes and socks and splashing their feet in the water. After that we bought ice cream for the kids and made a mess of them.

Shortly after we returned to HP a clown team arrived to entertain the kids. I pulled out water guns and gave them to the kids who could handle them, and we quickly filled the courtyard with laughter and water! I put on a rain poncho and the kids (and clowns) had a great time squirting me. After a little while the head nurse came out and shook her finger at us saying, “No mas agua!” But we (both kids and adults) had a lot of fun while it lasted. I don’t know why they do not allow the kids to simply be kids.

Near the end of the day one of the nursed approached me and asked me to feed little Estuardo. I quickly agreed, even though feeding him is something like running a marathon. He has autism and does not like to sit still. In fact, he quickly screams a piercing squeal if he is restrained, so his feeding usually involves following him around the courtyard trying to hit his mouth with the spoon. But tonight he seemed especially hungry and was standing still for the first four bites. Then, the head nurse arrived, took the bowl out of my hand, and said, “No comida por Estuardo!” (No food for Estuardo!) Are you catching a theme to our day? She then told me to put him in bed. When I tried to argue with her I could get no reason for why he was not to receive food apart from her bad mood and her dislike of Estuardo. So, my little buddy went to bed hungry and I left angry.

This evening I find myself praying a very simple prayer: “Lord Jesus, come quickly and bring healing for these children and shut down Hermano Pedro and every place like it for eternity. And meanwhile, help me love and fight for every child who is oppressed, neglected, and ignored. Let your kingdom come through me!”

This is my last blog from Guatemala. I hope to update again on Monday after our travel day tomorrow. Please keep following and praying!

Here are a few more pictures of our day for your enjoyment and consideration:

No One Came Today

Our team went to Amor del Nino today, a Christian orphanage near Guatemala City. We had a great time with the kids and I had planned to share the details in my blog tonight. But during this evening’s devotions, Pastor Jeff Kephart shared a poem that he wrote last night. I was so moved that I decided to use tonight’s blog to share it with you along with a few photos of the kids we have grown to love.

NO ONE

No one came today.                                                          

No one to speak for Jesus                                                    

And say “I love you.”                                                          

No comforting touch.                                                           

It must have been too much to ask                                     

For a moment’s peace from the gnawing pain                         

Of my solitary existence. No one came today.                                                           

No voice, no smile to light the way                                   

Through my fog of deep despair—                                         

No one to whisper “God DOES care—take heart!”                     

Are they just unaware of my desperate plight,                       

Or too busy with distractions                                              

To have time for me tonight? No one came today.                                                         

I’m the orphan child in a land far away                              

Beyond the perception of most—                                       

The man in the nursing home just down the street,                

The single mom at the end of her rope,                               

The widow—broken hearted—hoping against hope                   

For a sweet word of encouragement, an honest embrace—      

An end to this endless isolation. Is there no one to love Jesus                                               

By loving me, the least of these?                                         

No one to treat me with dignity—value—                              

Not like I have some dread disease                                      

To be avoided at all costs?                                                 

No one to act for Him who seeks and saves the lost,            

Who can drive my fears away?

No one came today.     
                                                   
But, perhaps,                                                                     
Tomorrow….

(Jeff Kephart, Guatemala, 6/24/10)

A Little Piece of Heaven

Most of our team spent today at Hermano Pedro. I say most because Mara and Tim had the unique experience of traveling with Dick Rutgers to deliver groceries and a new wheelchair battery to families near the coast. This gave Mara the rare opportunity to travel through and see Democratica, the hometown of her adopted son, Bennet. In spite of a vehicle breakdown that delayed their return somewhat, they had a wonderful day meeting some wonderful families and getting to know Dick and two of his boys a little better.

The rest of the team had a great day with the kids at HP. We took at seven of the older kids and men to Pollo Campero and had a great time. Beautiful Sonya and Veronica brightened the table with their laughter and smiles while Willley, Edgar, Elmer, Angel, and Moises were up to their usual mischief. Once again, airplanes and sauces flew and large amounts of chicken were consumed. It is hard to remember my life before these incredible people were a part of it, and to be honest, I don’t want to.

The day was long and the hour is getting late, so I am going to keep this short and add pictures at the end. However, before I do, I want to end with a prayer:

God, awaken your church to once again care about the things for which you care. We once had the understanding that we were your hands and feet, but have lost that awareness somewhere along the way. Please awaken us so that we will once again hate oppression. Please awaken us so that we will once again care for the neglected. Please awaken us so that we will once again love the ignored and despised. Please awaken us to action so that will we not rest until every one of these children are released from their cages and knows both our love and the Author of love. Amen.