I sat on those springy chairs covered with rough blue cloth, surrounded by walls painted dark blue and scattered with stars.
Sitting on the stage was my father and in other seats were college students.
And he started speaking about failure. About failure in missions and as a missionary himself.
He spoke of the time that he laid on that concrete floor with a gun pressed to his back, while my mother and J and I huddled in the bed as men took the things that we had just had shipped to us.
Car, computers, watches, money, anything valuable.... my mother's wedding ring.
And I remembered my bleary-eyed fear. Fear that something was so wrong that my own Daddy was afraid. Fear for him.
He spoke of his loss of security for years after that, jumping awake at any sound in the night because he never knew what it might be.
He spoke about the lessons taught of God's sovereignty and power. Of protection and of a mission so strong that God would keep us there, and bring us to a place beyond fear.
He spoke of J's sickness. Of leaving when translation was at its peak. Villagers were getting excited about the Word in their own language, and everything was moving along so well.
Of thinking that the success was turning into a failure. Of how it's all about Him and never about us.
It's never about our success stories. But it's also never about our failures.
But it's all about how He works through us for His good and glory.
And if what it takes is for me to fail, to fall, to be disgraced, to suffer, to be beaten, to be filled with shame.... that's when He gets all the glory.
As I read the Word for this morning, it was there, waiting:
"Then he said to the crowd, 'If any of you wants to be my followers, you must turn from your selfish ways, take up your cross dialy, and follow me. If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake, you will save it.' " Luke 9:23-24 (NLT)
Do I shoulder my cross daily?
Not always.
But He works wonderous things through failures, if only given to Him.
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