Nepal Mission, 2018--The Gift of Futility

Thakali translated our second Bible Institute lessons excellently, including highly technical words like "trinity," "divine essence," and "transubstantiation." Needless to say, he was mentally tired from doing that important work for us from 8a-4p for four consecutive days. Although certainly tired during one lunch break, he perked up when we asked about his family. He proceeded to tell us the story of his mother. 

She was a devoted Hindu who had completed a 40-day fast on her spiritual journey to advance in the roulette game called karma. (Good deed = hope that the next reincarnation will be better). "The fast was very difficult for her," Thalaki said (perhaps the understatement of the century). But after she was done, one of the two gurus who was instructing her in this ritual said that none of it counted; that it was all in vain and would be counted not as a merit but as a debt in the cycle of karma, because she used olive oil in the rite instead of mustard seed oil as the other guru had prescribed. (The gurus are in constant competition, apparently). Gut-punch!! 

She was so disillusioned by the futility of her 40-day fast, and so demoralized by the conflicting advice by the so-called experts, that she left the path of Hinduism completely, even before she found the path of Christ. The futility of her 40-day fast, however, as seen from the other side of the grace of God--after she and her household all converted to Christ--was recognized in retrospect as a gift.

The futility of her fast forced her from the cocoon of her religious works toward the finished work of Jesus Christ. She was transformed, not by her struggling but in spite of her struggling. She was metamorphosized by faith in the finished work of Another who worked on her behalf. (And which butterfly ever returns again to its chrysalis?) Faith is the end of our trying-trying-trying to make right our wrong standing before God. Faith is trusting Jesus's work on the cross to please God on our behalf, once and for all offered and never again to be repeated. "To the one who does not work, but believes in Him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is credited as righteousness" (Romans 4:5).

So then, as it stands right now, all of creation is--like Thalaki's mother was--currently "subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of the Him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory the children of God" (Romans 8:20-21). This futility was (and is) being orchestrated by God Himself to steer us toward a living hope; toward a final freedom from the corruption that currently wraps us up; toward a relationship with God as His children. No religious rituals could ever accomplish that--regardless if the celebrant uses olive oil or mustard seed oil! But Jesus' work accomplished what all our human rituals could never accomplish--transformation, forgiveness, and adoption!

Nevertheless, if futility caused her disillusionment with Hinduism enough to consider a better way, then futility was a gift. If futility whet her appetite for an effective and permanent solution to atone for her sins, then futility was a gift. If futility drove her toward an actual relationship with God through faith in Jesus instead of working a complicated system of confusing rituals, then futility was a gift. And if this futility passed through the hands of our good God, then futility was even a good gift.

Nepal Mission, 2018--The Questions Are Easy, But the Answers Are Hard

"The questions are easy, but the answers are hard." Pastor Gupta's (name changed for safety) mic-drop of a line stuck with me after we left Itahari toward our next and final week of ministry. Itahari is a medium-sized city in the middle of what some might describe as nowhere, but to the bustling residents Itahari is home, and to the remote areas all around, Itahari is the big city. Kathmandu, at 10 hours from Itahari by motorbike or car to the northwest, is almost unthinkably far away. (And apparently the trip to the capital is only 8.5 hours for the local buses since they drive like maniacs hurtling up the road in trapezoidal, steel boxes desperately in need of a full, four-wheel alignment.)

Pastor Gupta's stupendous one-liner was referring to the "coming trial," when the new law will go into effect in August banning public evangelism and religious conversion. The penalty will be 3 years in prison and 50,000 rupees (roughly $5,000). For comparison, the Internet--which is never wrong--says the average week's wage for a taxi driver in Nepal is 2,000 rupees. But Pastor Gupta's subsequent explanation was equally mic-droppable: "We figure that they can't arrest us all. And if they could, they don't have enough money in the government to feed us in prison for three whole years." That is easy to say, and difficult to face.

One day later, back in Kathmandu, we chatted with our driver--whom I will call Bitmar, who was a Christian pastor also--who gave us his testimony. He was the youngest brother of a family in a remote district of Nepal. But the whole family was chased from their homeland for "becoming cow-eaters." (I didn't ask, but I assume that being labeled as a cow-eater in the Hindu culture cannot be friendly banter.) In the middle of this (long) story, I recalled, "The questions are easy, but the answers are hard." 

Condensed and abridged, but in no way exaggerated, Bitmar's father was a Hindu priest in direct charge of the ritual sacrifices of water buffalo (yes, actual animal sacrifice!). But he and his whole household converted to Christ in dramatic fashion. 

As was customary, Bitmar's older brother went to the Hindu temple to participate in the worship of Shiva, and took the suggested hallucinogen associated with the god (i.e. demon) of destruction. But that brother, 13 years old at the time, lost his mind after the one trip. Though the drug had long worn off, Bitmar's brother refused to wear clothes for 2 years, because whenever he did he felt the snakes bite him (i.e. demonic possession). Even though the father tried to make additional sacrifices to relieve his son's torment, he only got worse. Brother had taken to preventing the unreal/real snake bites with a real/very real knife ... resulting in significant wounds. The family had given up hope and decided to take him to a mental asylum when they heard of a very old man nearby who didn't follow the old gods. The old man was a Christian who told them that Jesus alone could break the power of Shiva. "Why not?" they reasoned, "we have tried everything else and brother has only gotten worse."

It wasn't immediate, but the old man prayed for Jesus to break the power of Shiva inside Bitmar's brother. One week, two weeks, brother kept his clothes on. One month, two months, he resumed family life. Some relapses here and there, but brother was set free by the power of Jesus. The father could not deny the power of Jesus and, therefore, renounced his priesthood, publicly burning his amulets. The family was chased away, but not to the exclusion of periodic evangelistic returns to the village later on, preaching salvation in the name of Jesus. Not many, but some there have believed in the 20 years since Bitmar's family left. "The questions are easy, but the answers hard."

Advance the story to this morning to the church in Lalitpur, where we will be teaching our second Bible Institute. Apparently some time during the very normal church service where I preached a very normal (and quite unrelated) message, a woman from Bitmar's old city arrived at church. She came a long way to ask for prayer to Jesus for demonic deliverance. (Apparently, this is normal. One week ago, for instance, the police brought another lady who was demonically tormented to the church because they could not help her. She was prayed for and went home in her right mind.) "The questions are easy, but the answers are hard."

Maybe this woman, who convulsed while the church leaders "prayed the gospel" into her with Scripture and songs of praise to Christ--if her deliverance shows forth any fruit of a regenerated heart--will be like the "man of peace" that Christ instructed the disciples to look for when He sent them out two-by-two, who will give the frontier ministry a home base. This city is one of two cities the church leaders in Lalitpur have been praying for as a site for their next church plant. (They surely don't pick the easy places!) Once a year, for 20 years, the church in Lalitpur has planted a church in the remote places of Nepal. However, the pinch-point in Nepal, as it is in the States, is spiritual leadership. Who will lead the church plant if they decide to launch a new work in this hostile region? Will it be Bitmar? Will it be another? This is why pastoral training in theology and Bible is so important, for whoever goes must be able to navigate the Bible skillfully. "The questions are easy, but the answers are hard."

Nepal Mission, 2018--"Open the Servant's Eyes that He May See"

"Now when the attendant of the man of God had risen and gone out, behold, an army with horses and chariots was circling the city. And his servant said to him, 'Alas, my master! What shall we do?' So he answered, 'Do not fear, for those who are with us are more than those who are with them.' Then Elisha prayed and said, 'O Lord, I pray, open the servant's eyes that he may see.' And the Lord opened the servant's eyes and he saw; and behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha" (2 Kings 6:15-17).

This week, the Himalayas have been veiled in hazy clouds every day. But they are there nevertheless, all around us. I just can't see them. More specifically, I just can't snag a picture of them--which is honestly what I really want. Yet, with a puff of wind (or even without!), the Lord could push back the curtain and show us that there is more going on here than meets the eye. 

With the eyes alone, anyone can see the rickshaws and the venerated cows, the women washing laundry in the river and the boys playing stickball (cricket) in the empty sandlot. But all around this very common scene, in this very common city, is a very uncommon spiritual reality where God is actively present, where angels actively wage war, and where demons actively seek to undermine the faith of humans who bungle through life as if it were all just about rickshaws and cows and laundry and stickball. 

Of course, reality is not less than those visible things--which is exactly what Hinduism teaches, that reality as we experience it is just an illusion (maya) of the universal principle (brahman)--but life is certainly more than just the visible things. We are not trapped in an illusion, but we are largely unaware how our story fits into the larger story of God's redemption.

This week we asked for God to open the eyes of the students at the Itahari Bible Institute to the wonderful things in His Word, and that they would--once they see for themselves--help to open other students' eyes to the truth of Scripture through the power of God. I genuinely think we saw the beginning of that process!!

The students learned that the Great Commission is for them, too, and their churches; that they have been given the same mandate by Jesus that the apostles received: to make disciples as they are going, baptizing, and teaching. They learned that they themselves can be the sending agents of their own missionaries. They learned that they have been given everything they need in Christ Jesus for life and godliness (2 Peter 1:3).

While this is an exciting prospect, it is also fearful since the country in which they minister does not love Christ or Christians or the Christian message. As Christians, they are third-class citizens who are blamed for many of the societal struggles. (Just remember Nero burning down Rome and pinning it on the Christians. This is not a new plot-twist.)

But the same God that opened the eyes of Elisha's servant, can open the eyes of the church, the Nepalese people, and even the government--that "those who are with us are more than those who are with them."

Nepal Mission, 2018--"Zaia Masia"

The 36 hours it took to get to Nepal, plus the 12-hour 45-minute time difference, and the tearful goodbyes to the family, together make a small price to pay compared to hearing, "Yesu," and "Alleluia," and "Zaia Masia" (the spelling is questionable, but the meaning is sure: Victory in Messiah) dotting our first church service in country. 

Dhapakhel Baptist Church in the heart of Kathmandu, the sprawling 1.4 million-person capital of Nepal, was a feast of color and sound. The worship band was amplified far beyond the capacity of their meeting space. The shoes of all the worshippers were neatly lined up outside the door. A very spicy lunch was cooking for sharing after the service. The sermon on unity in the Body of Christ as explained in Philippians 2 was translated from English into Nepalese, although most of the people spoke at least those two languages fluently. After the message, the elderly pastor--who was instrumental some decades before in bringing the gospel to Nepal, after he first heard and responded in faith to the gospel as a temporary worker in India--gave excellent commentary to the theme of unity. "Thank you, Pastor. We needed to hear that important message, because we are so easily divided."

So easily divided are all Christians in all people groups when we stray from the main tenets of our salvation, namely "God and the Word of His grace" (Acts 20:32). So the pattern continues, as it has wherever and whenever I travel: people are the same, we all need the gospel as acutely as ever, and the students always give to the teachers more than they receive from the teachers. 

But one thing that I earmarked in my notebook today that captured the heart of the mission is the testimony of Sanu (name changed for safety). He told us that he was like 83% of all Nepali people--a nominal Hindu--who had many questions about life and death, but who never had the freedom to ask those questions inside the Hindu culture. It was only when outside the heavy gaze of family and neighbors that he openly began to ask about the unifying philosophy of life and the holes in the Hindu worldview. In that posture of curiosity, Sanu met a man--a foreigner (who turned out to be a missionary)--who volleyed a question back for Sanu to answer. "Who is the light of Asia?" Sanu grinned because every Nepali boy and girl knows that answer from grade school--"Buddha is the light ... the enlightened one ... of Asia." "Ah yes, that is what they say, so then, who is the Light of the World?" the foreigner continued. Sanu did not know for he had never heard of someone who was Light of the whole world. 

The foreigner connected the dots in Sanu's unspoken thoughts and said, "Jesus Christ is the Light of the World. Would you like to learn about Him?" "Of course I do!" was the reply and a Bible was given with a marker at John 8:12, "Then again Jesus spoke to them saying, 'I am the Light of the World; he who follows Me will not walk in darkness, but will have the Light of life.'" Although Sanu was from the highest caste, and very wealthy, he joyfully followed Jesus Christ that day even though his father pronounced him dead and cut off. Sanu smiled as he retold his story, saying that he has never regretted his decision to follow Jesus; and never looked back.

Nepal Bible Institute, May 16-31, 2018

MISSION OPPORTUNITY IN NEPAL—KEVIN REES

MAY 16-31, 2018

”Come over…and help us” (Acts 16:9)

Exotic and remote Kathmandu, Nepal, is a mixture of Buddhist and Hindu, modern and traditional people who have carved out their unique way of living in the foothills of the Himalayas. Many globe-trekkers go to Nepal to find themselves, to climb Everest, to become one with nature (shelling out over $30K for the experience!). But those are NOT my reasons for going there May 16-31, 2018.

Actually, the reasons that propel me there are exactly opposite from those reasons that attract tourists. Instead of going there to extract from Nepal an “adventure”—the futile attempt to become something greater at the top of Everest than I currently am at sea level—I am going to Nepal by commission and by invitation—to serve the Nepalese people within the ministry of the Word of God.

By way of commission, I have (and all disciples have!) been sent out by Christ to make disciples of all the nations (Matthew 28:18-20). By way of invitation, I have been asked by local churches in and around a city called Itahari, not far from Kathmandu, where 100 pastors plan to gather to learn about apologetics, missions, and evangelism.

Itahari is quite cut-off from access to theological education, therefore, World Hope Ministries International (www.whmi.org) has organized three teachers to carry in the training that church leaders need to make disciples who make disciples again in due time. The ironic beauty of that turn-of-events is notable. The famous Sherpa people groups of the southern Himalayas, although there are many other ethnicities represented in and around Kathmandu, have become synonymous to Westerners with steadfast and trustworthy guides and porters in remote areas; so much so that “sherpa” has actually become a verb in our English dictionaries. Yet, the gospel once again flips everything joyfully upside-down, we will port in the Scriptures to the porters at the rooftop of the globe.

Some Context Will Help

In early 2018 the Nepalese government passed legislation to outlaw public evangelism and religious conversion, and yet—because God is supreme—we “just happen” to be teaching the pastors about apologetics, missions, and evangelism. How fantastic is that? We didn’t orchestrate that part for effect, nor did the pastors rebelliously engineer it, it was already planned long before. Nevertheless, the courage that these pastors demonstrate to gain skill in ministry that may very well earn them immediate suffering is the stuff of legend, yet here it is within normal, everyday gospel ministry.  

For good measure, we will turn right around after this Bible Institute in Itahari—which is a 3-to-4 day marathon of teaching, 10-12 hours per day, with a little pulpit ministry thrown in for good measure—and do it all again in Kathmandu, but with entirely different curricula (biblical worship and pneumatology). Double the prep … but quadruple the joy!

But the enormity of the task outpaces our ability to keep up. Therefore, the plan is simple: we pray, we prepare, and we partner with as many of you, our dear “fellow workers in the truth,” as we can in order to “go out for the sake of the Name” (3 John 7-8).

The Cost Is Low

At $2860—which breaks down to $180 per day—we are intentionally keeping this trip trimmed to the bare-bones. We will travel and teach, eat and sleep—no frills, just flying halfway around the world, teaching two independent Bible Institutes to 200 faithful disciples of Jesus. Will you consider sponsoring me a day or two or more? Really any amount helps! Perhaps on the day that you sponsor, you would also pray heavily for us, maybe even adjusting your meals to match traditional Nepalese cuisine so as to sync up with us while we are in Nepal!!!

The Opportunity Is High

This ministry trip is a high impact/high reward opportunity that will directly equip disciple-makers of disciple-makers. But keep an eye out for me in this regard, for there are about 80 of these World Hope Bible Institutes every year in over 50 countries around the world—taking theological training to the places in the world that remain outside of the reach of traditional training venues. I am planning that these theological training trips remain an annual thing, Lord willing. My local church is very supportive, but it takes a large fellowship to fund and staff, train and send for missions. One more thought: perhaps you are formally trained for the ministry or vocationally experienced in the ministry and would like to become one of the faculty members at World Hope Ministries International? Contact me for future ministry opportunities! I’ll connect you with the right people at WHMI for more information.

If I reach my goal of $2860, then any extra money will begin to fund future mission trips.

The Time Is Now

You can direct donations for this WHMI Bible Institute through my church either by donating online (there is a drop-box on the “Giving” tab at www.graceandtruthcommunity.com where you can select the option to type in, “Nepal Mission,” as the specific mission you are supporting). Or you can donate by mail with your check made out* and sent to:

Grace & Truth Community Church

1301 Bombing Range Rd

West Richland, WA 99353

[*Instead of writing my name anywhere on your donation check, as per IRS regulations, please just write “Nepal Mission” on the memo line. Grace & Truth Community Church will send you an end-of-the-year receipt for your charitable contribution.]

Home for Christmas

Home. The word itself evokes vivid associations, timeless clichés, and artistic expressions. Yet home—the real thing—always outpaces those associations, clichés, and artistic expressions. "Home is where the heart is," is easy to say, but home is even where the heart is not yet. "Home is where the Internet automatically connects," is true, but home is also where Google's algorithms eerily know that we are considering a new refrigerator purchase. Home is where we hang our favorite photos, but home is also where we realize that we have virtually stopped hanging anything on any wall because it usually means having to repaint before the next move. Home is a mixed bag; sometimes, a mixed drink.

More than a house, or an apartment, or a room in which we might temporarily stay; home is Shellie. Home is counting five coats that never get hung-up in the closet after school—even if two of those five coats now lie on the floors of college dorms. Home is discussing the sermon at Sunday dinner. Home is falling asleep watching the game that I have been anticipating all week. Home goes with us everywhere we happen to be. Those who have never moved, or rarely moved, don't know this rather liberating truth—home is not a place at all.

This year, as in several other years of our journey, we have a new mailing address. Our neighbors are nice, but all their names have melded together. Our house needs a lot of TLC and is not exactly comfortable yet. Our dog barks at a whole new stream of stimulation. Our toes have been stubbed while midnight-searching for the bathroom in this new-to-us labyrinth. But home is more than where we live.

People often ask if we actually like to move; if we prefer not to "put down roots." But in reality, it is exactly the opposite. We want nothing nearly as much! Always we have tried to put down roots, wherever we have gone. But we have given up to God the prerogative of deciding where we receive our mail, and as such, "putting down roots" has not been our lot. Not yet at least. We would love to live long enough in one place, for instance, to find "our spot" to go to on date nights where everything on the menu becomes a favorite. However, as it now stands, we have learned to recognize and sometimes appreciate the steady tension within the concept of "home" that keeps our sails full. Through it all, we find an enduring connection with the patriarchs who, though they lived a nomadic life marked out by tent-stakes, were nevertheless, "looking forward to a city that has foundations whose designer and builder is God" (Hebrews 11:10).

But with all this inconclusive talk of home, our conversation turns to worship at the Incarnation. Jesus knew the subject of home comprehensively, perfectly, and eternally. Yet, He came to our neighborhood, so to speak, where He was never welcome (John 1:11). Although He was owner of it all, He had no home among us—not even a place to lay His head (Matthew 8:20). He left His home in order to open a way home for those who would believe/receive Him (John 1:12). Jesus knew more about home than any of us because He knew home to be primarily a nexus of relationships. In that way He was uniquely free to surrender home without losing home because His relationships with the Father and the Spirit were still intact. In fact, Jesus expanded home; He brought it with Him. We offered Him no room at the inn, but He offered us His kingdom; He offered us Himself. Jesus truly is our home. Home came here to bring us home.

How Silently, How Silently -- Christmas Letter 2016

HOW SILENTLY, HOW SILENTLY THE WONDROUS GIFT IS GIVEN AGAIN THIS YEAR.  Although subdued, for me personally, Christ’s advent is fully celebrated in 2016.  Although my eyes see more gray-tones than colors of late, He is no less wondrous and no less a gift.  Nevertheless, Christ decidedly sliced through the dreariness of this year’s December in the third stanza of a favorite hymn, “O Little Town of Bethlehem.”

How silently, how silently / The wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts / The blessings of His heaven.
No ear may hear His coming, / But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him still, / The dear Christ enters in.

My ear which was attuned to hear “the blessings of His heaven” in previous years had, like my under-used guitar, fallen into atonality.  Perhaps due to “this world of sin,” but my ear did not “hear His coming.”  Normally, I hear echoes of Christ and His gospel of grace everywhere.  But 2016 cinched off the continuous concert of God’s glory so furtively that I didn’t even recognize the growing silence.  It was like when I used those foam earplugs during air-travel—slowly, slowly sealing my ears in synthetic muteness.  Though the roar of the turbines screamed just a few feet away behind a few layers of sheet metal, I grew sleepy in the artificial cocoon of my own weary thoughts.  But my unnatural deafness was not peacefulness; it was plastic and forced.  The sleepiness of my year did not leave me refreshed, but ironically sleepier … even after taking extra doses of vitamin B-12.  Turns out, true peace does not require foam insulators.

“Wake up, O sleeper; rise from the dead and Christ will shine on you” (Ephesians 5:14),” urged the Apostle Paul, eerily reminiscent of the Prophet Jonah who unnaturally slept through the storm he helped create (Jonah 1:6).  O little town of Bethlehem: Wake up!  Don’t you know that the Lord has arrived? He is in your own neighborhood!  O little man called Kevin: Wake up!  Don’t you know that there is more going on than a voiceless December?

The divine narrative is the same—then and now, no matter how gray the December—Wake up!  “Now Peter and those who were with him were heavy with sleep, but when they became fully awake they saw His glory” (Luke 9:32).  “Wake up…for some have [yet] no knowledge of God” (1 Corinthians 15:32).  “Let us not sleep, as the others do” (1 Thessalonians 5:6).  “Wake up, and strengthen what remains and is about to die” (Revelation 3:2). 

But how?  How can I wake up?  Into that question the humble Christmas carol preaches a penetrating word: “Where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in.”  Meekness?  Is that the soul’s smelling salt?  Meekness?  Is there not some other method?  I have scads of weakness, is meekness the same thing as weakness?  No, it is not; not even close.  Weakness filled every room and every alley in Bethlehem that blessed night; every tavern and every brothel (which was what the Bethlehem Inn was, by the way, shedding even more light on the anti-welcome we originally gave to Christ), but meekness Incarnate was placed in an animal’s feeding trough.  Meekness is an obscure treasure—usually refused entrance through the front door.  Meekness is a strength—a heart-level pliability to the Lord.  It maintains resistance the things of the world while remaining receptive to the things of God.  Hard hearts and dulled senses due to disillusionment—these offer a counterfeit form of meekness.  But with true meekness—though the outer man necessarily thickens to the disappointments of life—the inner man remains soft to the smallest word and the remotest approach of the Savior.

Weakness says, “I can’t, therefore, I won’t.”   Meekness says, “I can’t, therefore, You must.”  Weakness says, “Life stinks, so pour me another so I can dull my senses a little while longer.”  Meekness says, “Life stinks, but look up—God promised to send a permanent solution to our trouble … starting at, of all places, the little town of Bethlehem (Micah 5:2)!”  Weakness says, “Who cares?”  Meekness says, “Cast all your cares on Him, for He cares for you (1 Peter 5:7).”

I can’t awaken my ear, Lord.  “Where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in.” 

I can’t enliven my heart, Lord.  “Where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in.”   

I can’t brighten this December, Lord.  “Where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in.” 

I can’t, therefore, You must.  And, You did … starting at a little town of Bethlehem, ending at Calvary.

T            T            T

This year the Rees family has not nearly been as “gray” as its paterfamilias.  While we hang out our second Christmas wreath on our Tennessee door, we review a year that floated mainly between home, school, and the hospital—where Shellie continues to work as a nurse on the Medical-Surgical floor.

The kids, who are now much more like young adults than children, have excelled in their classwork; which is so nice to see and such a relief, because they have far outpaced my (Kevin’s) ability to assist with homework.  Seth will finish his sophomore year this coming May at the local community college, ready to transfer to a State University for a degree in wildlife biology or resource management.  He is beyond ready to begin his adult years.  Emma, too, is headed to State University after she graduates from high school this coming May.  She aspires to study dental hygiene and, hopefully, get a job anywhere in the country that she fancies.  Abby is writing articles for the school newspaper, volunteering (now that the soccer season is over), and participating in various clubs.  She currently has her driving permit and is ready to take her road test in February when she turns 16.  Nate is our happy-go-lucky guy who breezes through school with not much more of a daily summary than: “It was fine.”  He turned 14 last weekend and enjoyed watching the release of “Star Wars: Rogue One” with his good buddy.  Jocelyn continues to thrive in school.  She switched from 4H participation to her school’s journalism club called, “News Crew.”  She will turn 11 this week, but she seems closer to 21.  She enjoys playing with the dogs and learning to crochet.

Shellie’s career in nursing is advancing, but in such a demanding field, it is never without great and thankless effort.  She is a semi-regular charge nurse now, but she realizes more and more what she would do to increase efficiency and optimize patient care if she were in a bigger hospital.  But she gets the hero award this year for the way that she has served the family during our unexpected transition.  I, due to many justified and belabored reasons, was unable to continue working as a pastor where I was employed.  I resigned in August and have been, until just a few days ago, gagged against talking about any detail with anyone locally.  But now that I can talk about it, I find that I no longer want to talk about it.  The end result of it is this: small towns in the rural South being what they are economically, I have been unable to find employment.  Into this foamy brine Shellie stepped and returned to a night shift in order to make a few more dollars per hour.  That is why she gets the gold star.  I am still at a loss for words.

However, the grayness of 2016 is melting back into color.  I was able to find great agreement and synergy with a church in Washington State.  So, while we wrap our Christmas presents this year, I am also packing cardboard boxes for a 2200-mile move west.  I happily agreed to become the Discipleship Pastor at a growing church in West Richland, WA called Grace and Truth Community Church.  Since Emma’s senior year of high school is already in full swing, we decided that it would be best for the family if I move and begin working in January before Shellie and the kids join me in May.  All in all, we can say—as we have many times in the past—that this is just another opportunity to trust Jesus.  We warmly extend to each of you a prayer, whatever your 2017 might bring, may “the dear Christ enter in” with His unmistakable peace.    

–Kevin, for the whole crew, 12/20/16