Incarnation

Incarnation
(On receiving the Lord’s Super with an Anglican congregation in Lilongwe.)

Today Jesus stuck in my throat.
I had a hard time swallowing
His body and blood.
In spite of the user-friendly-melt-in-your-mouth wafer,
Jesus just wouldn’t go down smoothly.
It’s happened before,
this experience of finding God
hard to swallow.
But never so literally.
Always before
it was some bony doctrine,
some lumpy theology,
some sticky legalism
that got caught in my throat.
Occasionally, I would even throw up,
regurgitating some non-digestible, half-baked
“Christian Mandate;”
like
“women should shut up and serve,”
or
“everybody but me and my kind are doomed to hell in a hand-basket.”
But this was different.
Jesus just sat there on the edge of my esophagus
making no demands.
Simply waiting.
Waiting for me to make up my mind.
Do I swallow His sacrificial love for me?
Do I ingest His word of life?
Do I feed on His living presence in my body?
Or do I choke?
Gulp!
Paul Heller

All Clear

“Come back in three months and we’ll take another look.” said the pulmonologist last September. He wanted to take another look at the “sinister” spot that showed up in a high resolution CT scan of my right lung.

For three months now we have been waiting. Waiting to see if the “spiculated lesion” is cancerous or not. Waiting to learn if we will stay on in Malawi or return to the States for possible surgery and chemotherapy. Waiting. Will our call from the infant orphans of Malawi extend 3 more months or 3 more years?

If only I could put off the anxiety while we waited. If only I could wait to worry. But fear, like a rudely insistent adolescent, refuses to wait its turn. Being busy at the Nursery helped. Nothing like a gang of little ones with their constant needs and open armed love to provide a time of self-forgetfulness. Nevertheless, the devil would return again to prod me with its pitchfork of fear, especially in the quiet of the night. 3 months or 3 years?

It’s not that God wasn’t surrounding me with offers of personal peace.

For starts, through the gracious hospitality of Doug Tilton (a fellow PCUSA mission co-worker) our two visits to Johannesburg (known not so long ago as the “murder capital of the world”) were delightful! Doug’s apartment not only “turned out to be” within easy walking distance of the hospital, which had been pre-arranged by our insurance, but also close to shopping, and restaurants. For the next three months I liberated a button from his desktop which said: “I will not obsess. I will not obsess. I will not obsess.”

What’s more, prayers were being raised from myriad friends and supporters, with my former work partner lifting me up in fasting & prayer every Wednesday. God was telling me “Do not be afraid.” But I often found myself hard of hearing.

Tuesday morning, on our way the hospital for the “big test” I was startled by the stop sign at the bottom of our street. Below the STOP someone hand painted “Being Afraid.” How much clearer could God’s message be?

“Yet, laying on the table, ready for the scan, my heart beats so hard I’m convinced they can hear it in the next room. 3 months or 3 years?

The scan is over and I jump off the table, go around the corner, and accost the radiologist sitting at his computer. ‘It’s gone.’ he tells me, right on the spot. ‘Completely resolved!’ Weak with relief, I say ‘I feel like hugging you.’ ‘Why not?’ he replies. So we hug, and he congratulates me, and I rush out to tell Paul. We hug, and cry and thank God for his goodness. Now we know. God wants us here for 3 years not just 3 months.”

Thank you! Everything in me says “Thank you!” Angels listen as I sing my thanks. I kneel in worship facing your holy temple and say it again: “thank you!” Thank you for your love, thank you for your faithfulness; Most holy is your name, most holy is your Word. The moment I called out, you stepped in: you made my life large with strength. ….. Finish what you started in me, God. Your love is eternal—don’t quit on me now. (From Psalm 138 The Message)

Prayer Baby - Naomi

PRAYER BABY: Naomi

Naomi arrived at the Nursery as a neglected, malnourished 6 month old. Today she will be returned to her family as a healthy, happy, ten month old, weighing in at 15 pounds.
Naomi must be returned to her family today in order to make room in the Nursery for another motherless child. Her father has two wives and claims “she is not my child.” Naomi’s mother (who is now able to function fully, thanks to availability of AIDS drugs) wants to please her husband. She says “I don’t want Naomi back.” Malawi Social Welfare says “Naomi cannot be fostered as long as she has two parents who are alive, well, and able to care for her.”
So we are now taking Naomi back to her mother and father with no small amount of concern for her future. Please pray for her protection and that our follow up visits will find her loved and nourished in body, mind, and spirit.

Not so fast!

It is now two hours later and guess what? Naomi is back! When we arrived at her home it was a disaster. Mama has no money, no income and no way to buy food. There are no beds in the house – just the cement floor. There is no water or electricity. Dad got angry when mom said Naomi was coming back, but dad is not around and does not contribute. Naomi’s mother cannot feed the 3 children she has. The police officer (who came with us) and I agreed that leaving Naomi at that house would be a death sentence. Two days ago we accepted a newborn into the nursery because we were planning on having Naomi’s spot. Now we have to keep him in the isolation room because Naomi is back. We have to hire an extra nanny for the newborn because there is no way a regular nanny can add a newborn into her already overloaded number of 6. There is no way we can continue to have the extra nanny on our already overloaded budget. I don’t know what we’re going to do.