Missions Archives - call me pasturescott

all the way home

[5 minutes]

Thirty six years ago a baby boy was born in the same city where I first spotted the girl I would marry and who would later be his mommy. That baby was born to someone else, but that someone already gave him up to Jesus so that we could have the rapturous joy of bringing him home. That was then.

He was the answer to his mama’s many prayers and the happy surprise of his disabled daddy. He’s perfect, we said. All his fingers and toes and not a flaw to be seen. He actually favored me. I had only wanted daughters, not a son, but he changed all that with my first look. That was then.

Graham learned how to walk by steadying a pudgy hand on my wheelchair tire, trailing trustingly along as I s l o w l y rolled across the living room floor, him putting one foot gingerly in front of the other. His favorite way to travel was to perch himself between my legs and ride on my footrests, giggling and bouncing at the world in front of him. We were Thunderbolt and Lightfoot. Speed Racer and Chim-Chim. My favorite way for him to ride was when Gra-Gra climbed on my lap, pulled himself upright, facing me. When he grabbed a fistful of my shirt and pumped his legs up and down, that was my signal. Off we went, doing wheelies and spinning and carving donuts in the carpet. That was then.

We could take him anywhere. He smiled at everybody he saw and they usually smiled back. Our little guy loved to sing Jesus songs and was never off-pitch. He made friends easily. He told other little boys on the McDonald’s playground about Jesus. He loved church, he loved his cousins, and he loved Christmas and Halloween and birthdays and pretty much any other day of the year. That was then.

The boy could pick up any instrument and learn how to play it by ear. Like his mama, music was inside him and moved him. He wasn’t a great student, didn’t have the handwriting skills of his mother, but he was the spark of life in every classroom. From kindergarten through elementary school, he was rewarded as the student with the most personality, aka class clown. That was then.

The angels God assigned to our Graham had their hands full. Rambunctious, daring, and always scoping out the next epic adventure, we never knew for sure if we had a tight enough hold on him. He was so adaptable, which is a good thing on the one hand, but not always on the other. Don’t get me wrong; Graham wasn’t a troublemaker, but trouble often found him anyway. That was then.

He gave his heart to Jesus before he became a teenager. I may have mentioned it earlier, but our son didn’t shy away from telling people about Jesus. He went on mission trips, laid hands on people and prayed for their healing, traveled hut to hut with the gospel, and left his only pair of shoes in Honduras for another who had no shoes. That was then.

Prodigals aren’t as rare as you’d think. Especially not the ones who grew up in pastor’s homes. Like many of us, Graham had high hopes but he got mad at a God whom he accused of ruining his dreams. He didn’t know what to do with that, where to take all that anger. It molested him, throttled him, imprisoned him. He became addicted to it, wore it all on both sleeves, and it became the death of him. That was then.

The thing about God’s mercy is that it keeps following us and hounding us and nipping at our heels. All the way home, the psalm says. All. The. Way. Home. God’s lovingkindness never lets up. I shared with another parent of a prodigal just this week the same words that encouraged Sandy and me when our beautiful son died: the power and strength and determined will of God’s hold on us is eternally stronger than our will to walk away from him.

The other thing about prodigals is that some of them, perhaps more than we think, come home. Graham sure did.

God’s merciful love did that. It followed him all the way home, praise Jesus.

Graham would be 36 today. Sandy is in Georgia this week to celebrate still being his mom. She has many things on her docket, but none more important than sitting by Graham’s graveside and reminiscing about all the “that was then” moments. It’s been almost twelve years now, but still we grieve — and that’s okay. Some years are harder than others to celebrate his birthday while mourning his passing. This is one of those years. Sigh.

Were it not for the rich mercies of Christ Jesus, we might just stay by his cemetery plot and never leave, chained to unremedied sorrow. But a hope greater than our grieving is beating in our chests and beckoning us on. We can drive away from that plot of ground, assured and at peace, because there’s a new now, not then, past the veil and scrim of this side of eternity, where Graham is waiting for us to get Home too.

Selah, beloved.

Red Sky At Night

Blood Moon over Jerusalem; Photo Courtesy CNN

It appears the world survived last night’s Super Blood Moon event. And Isaac Newton’s ‘100% certain’ prophecy of an asteroid hitting the earth on the 25th. And (so far) Shemitah.

Does this mean there’s no apocalypse to come?

Sorry. If you’re hoping I’ll say no, I couldn’t possibly. There’s yet a Piper (not John, heavens) to pay for the kosmos and the earth-dwellers who insist on their treason against the Almighty.

Just not last night.

Collective whew, amiright?

Even we believers ought to be grateful to the long-suffering mercies of God to extend the deadline to fallen humanity. Don’t even get me started on the pre-trib rapturists (of whom I was part for several decades) who woke up grieving they’re somehow left behind (again). Another time perhaps.

Before the set kill-date of the 25th went into full bloom and certainly before last night’s lunar event, I wondered before the Lord if we (speaking of the church) might be painting a worse-case shemitah scenario prematurely.

I said aloud,

What if this this seven-year cycle we just completed doesn’t look like burning buildings, falling asteroids, crashing markets, Russia amassing at the borders of Israel, and the world generally on fire?

And then I thought the unthinkable, startling even myself:

What if the present apocalyptic event looks more like a man in a robe standing before the world leaders, begging them to repent of the atrocities of the countries they represent?

*no Revelation 6:2 or 17:9 comments, please*

Out-of-the-blue it came, a thought filling my inner airspace like a mushroom cloud: could it be that God is setting the current stage, not with bombs bursting in air and nuclear winter, but more quietly, less helter-skelter, with a (coughcough) Pope issuing a sobering warning to the planet?

Easy. Hear me out.

What if, just what if, God has used at the close of this current shemitah a controversial vessel through whom to say “My wrath is coming, and this is your final warning”?

What if – again, only what if – God is giving us another cycle of seven years in which to get our global house in order?

Please. I’m not even setting dates.

Just … what if???

What if you knew (none of us do, so let me rephrase that) –

What if you actually had seven more years, but only seven more years, after which the things many were freaking out about during this multiple-sign month, will actually happen? Burning buildings, plagues, mountains splitting, massive earthquakes, global martyrdoms, har-meggido, the Great Deceiver, demons unleashed, great apostasy, stars falling…etc, etc…

Believe me, these things are on God’s unamendable calendar, which Revelation 18 unfolds in gruesome detail. And we may not have seven years. But still, we have (in a manner of speaking) some time.

So what will you do with the time left? As for me, I’d like to be engaged in a holy, meaningful, and supremely purposeful enterprise.

On the asteroid-less night of the 25th, our home was jammed from stem to stern with worshipping millennials. The shekinah cloud descended, but not the smoke of torment. There was favor and shalom in our home.

I looked around the three rooms teeming with these beautiful folk and thought if I had opportunity to share my thinking in this post with them, I’d just bet some of them would begin to worry less about getting asked out for a date, should they change their major or not, getting a callback from that store’s hiring manager, what color should they consider for their bedroom, and the like. They might go back to these thoughts as soon as the late-night air hit them on the way home, but just for then, in that sacred space of time, they’d be moved to consider.

A few might even think about surrendering to a Christly cause bigger than themselves, less pay, less notoriety and go after God with all their heart, mind, and soul. In the time they have left.

In South Africa. In Honduras. In the Inner City. In Dangerous Places. Needy Regions. Anywhere but “Here”. Anywhere but Comfort City. Or Marking Time Avenue.

Mariners have a saying, “red sky at night, sailor’s delight.” For now the coast is clear for us, but time is cycling down like sands in an hourglass. The next port might be the end of the world.

What might you surrender to in this sailing weather?

Before it all goes to hell.

One Lion’s Roar

If you’ve followed my journey through the blog or in personal relationship, you are aware of the young men I’ve been blessed to mentor since 2011. God has not asked of me to shed my pastoral vestments – nor do I believe He ever will – and this fathering ministry has blessed me to no end!

Joshua is one of the Lord’s young “lions” for whom I’m taking responsibility and I’ve been his pastor since he was a young kid. Ask him and he’ll tell you he loves me but that I bored him to tears and death with my hour-long homilies on Sundays all those years ago. Thankfully, all that has changed. I’ve learned how to say more in less time and he’s learned not to fall asleep.

🙂

Truly, Joshua is one of the most servant-hearted, respectful, and abandoned young men it’s been my pleasure to know. I’m having to accept the tough assignment of letting him go, however, but God has called and this lion is listening.

I’m glad to share my brother with you in this post. Pray for him as he moves now into a more costly and defined season of his life. I could not be prouder of this young man if he were my own son.

• • • •

When did you first know that you were meant for the foreign mission field?

JV:As kids we dream about “what were going to be when we grow up”. Most kids say policeman or soldiers, but not me. When I was about four, I started telling everybody that I wanted to be an opera singing missionary. As time went on I dropped the opera singer part (Thank Goodness), and I eventually dropped the idea of being a missionary altogether. I became consumed by the “American Dream”. I wanted money, and an average life like everybody else instead of doing missions. I graduated high school and went to college with the goal to get a degree that will make me a lot of money.

After going to college I began smoking weed daily and became very complacent. I started skipping classes and eventually dropped out after a year. After dropping out, I realized that I was not where I needed to be with God and because of it my life was a mess. So I got a job doing septic work, and started to work on my relationship with God.

After working for the septic business I was presented with the opportunity to eventually take over the business. I thought my life was all planned, but God had other plans for me. After working for the septic company for a few months, I came in one morning as usual and just felt like I was doing something wrong. I couldn’t figure out what though. I prayed for about a week and finally I heard God. He told me I need to quit my job and go do mission work. It seemed so crazy at the time, but I felt like if I didn’t do it I was going to die. So I told God “ If my boss asks me how long I plan to work for him I’ll quit, right then and there”. And what do you think happened the very next morning? He asked that exact question.

So without even talking to a mission organization, I told him that in two months at the end of the year I was going to do mission work. Again, I quickly realized how crazy I was being. So I emailed the only mission group I knew: Frontline Missions. I got no reply for about a month; I started getting a little worried. Then about a week before Christmas I got a phone call saying they wanted to meet with me to talk. The interview went well and I started a one year internship.

Where have your mission exploits taken you?

JV: I spent one month in January/ February in Honduras; I spent a week in Honduras in April; I spent all of June and July in Honduras; and I spent two weeks in Guyana in November

You have been interning at Frontline for the past year. Tell us a little about Frontline and what this past year has meant to you personally.

JV: Oh goodness, this past year has been a learning experience! I have learned so much about different cultures, leadership, Spanish, people, and myself this year. I have learned what it means to be a servant. I learned what it looks like to live a life worthy of the calling. And most importantly, I learned a lot about God and who He is.

If you had your choice would you be a missionary permanently or as a part-time proposition? Could you picture yourself living full-time on a foreign field?

JV: If money was no problem I would do missions fulltime. I would go on trips all year round with Frontline Missions. I could even see myself living and serving in another culture, absolutely.

What has been the most difficult part of laboring on the foreign field?

JV: Learning how to help people without “American-izing” them. Often times when missions teams go into third world countries we try to do everything our own way, because we think it’s better. This past year has taught me how to respect the people we are working with. Instead of doing it our way we ask the people we’re working with how they do it. Often times it is more difficult but it helps us show the people respect, which helps build relationships.

How have you personally been challenged as you have taken the gospel to indigenous peoples?

JV: The most challenging part for me was learning to listen to God and his instruction. Usually my flesh argued with what God had to say. It was a real battle. There were times that God would tell me to do things that I didn’t want to do and it was tough to do them. But after I did what he said I felt such peace and joy.

In what ways have you personally witnessed the power of God as you have carried the gospel cross-culturally?

JV: Oh man, I have seen God show up this past year!!! I have seen a baby that had pneumonia so bad you could feel vibrations – like someone was scraping a wash board whenever she would breathe. We prayed and prayed and as soon as we were finished you couldn’t feel the vibrations anymore. I’ve seen the ‘shy and beaten down’ tribe of the Tolupan Indians rise up to the point where they were singing solos and preaching in their native language. There have been incredible things that couldn’t happen without God. I tend to be very skeptical about things, but I couldn’t argue with the things that happened.

What’s next for Joshua Vineyard? Going forward, where do you see yourself in the coming years?

JV:In the coming years I plan to do missions fulltime with Frontline Missions. I’m stepping out in faith and seeing what God does. If the Lord provides everything I need to keep doing mission work, then, that’s what I’m going to do. If he doesn’t provide, then I’ll brush the dust off my feet and seek where God wants me to be.