Family Camping

Going camping was one of those things that neither Wesley nor I ever did as a child, but always thought would be fun. So over a decade ago, when we discovered that one of our friends was an avid backpacker-camper, we decided to give it a try. Bob suggested things for us to buy, and sent us email after email of information and advice. Since his passion was backpacking, our goal mirrored his—to pack as lightly and efficiently as possible, giving up many comforts along the way, all in the name of reduced overall pack weight we could tote on our backs. Although our initial attempts were laughable, we loved not only the challenge of it, but simply the forced relaxation of being outside, in the middle of nowhere, with no distractions but the ones we created.

But then came the small explosion that we call our family, and lightweight backpacking excursions quickly gave way to the much different animal called Family or Car Camping. Now every year in May, we load up the brood and head to Devil’s Den for a weekend of fun. (Watch my eyelid twitch as I say that word again—FUN!) Instead of lightweight sacks packed with bare essentials, we take a truck full of necessities—Dora, Princess and Spiderman sleeping bags, pillows and blankets, a plastic box full of chips, crackers and cookies, an ice chest full of Capri Suns and cokes, bags full of books and toys, and this year, portable DVD players and DS games. This ain’t your friend Bob’s backpacking anymore, kiddos!

Friday afternoon: pack up the truck and travel. How far is it? She’s not sharing! Make him get off of me! Are we there yet? And my thoughts, a dismal echo, Is it Sunday, yet?

Friday evening: arrive and unpack. Can I help? When are we going swimming? It’s hot. I want to get in the tent! What’s for supper? I groan. The same thing that’s always for supper, or you guys would mutiny. Weenies with ketchup. Boxed white-cheese shell pasta. Hawaiian rolls with a whole stick of butter. And later, smores. Mmmm, smores.

Saturday early morning: get up way too early, with sore hips and dirty hair, and cook breakfast. I need to go to the bathroom. When are we going swimming? It’s hot. What’s for breakfast? Flash a forced grin. Bacon, sausage links, scrambled eggs and French toast. Oh, and honey? A raccoon got into the back of your truck, opened the ice chest, and ran away with the cooked hamburger meat I was going to use in our spaghetti sauce for supper. Ah, doesn’t get any better than this!

Saturday late morning: put on tennis shoes, grab a backpack stuffed full of water and snacks, go potty one more time, and head to the hiking trail. I’ve got my walking stick. No, that’s MY walking stick! I WANT A WALKING STICK TOO! When are we going swimming? It’s hot. Grab the camera. Good thing you are the one taking the pictures because the forced smile is losing the battle.

Saturday noon: trudge back to camp, hot and tired and cranky, and eat lunch. I’m hungry. Hey I had the squeeze cheese first! When are we going swimming? I’m hot. Big sigh. Honey, the raccoon got the summer sausage and the grapes, too…

Saturday afternoon: settle everybody down for either a nap or some quiet time. There’s a bug! It’s hot. How long is Daddy going to sleep? When are we going swimming? I’m hot. Ignore. Halfway done!

Saturday late afternoon: put on the bathing suits, grab the water shoes, and head to the creek. It’s time to go swimming!

Two minutes later: It’s cold! Daddy, hold me!

Saturday evening: The spaghetti is a hit, even without the meat. I discovered that Lauren will actually eat spaghetti if I just give her the naked noodles (with half a stick of butter melted on them). Everyone is tired and very dirty, but the trip has been a success. We go to the area playground and Wes is good enough to let me pretty much ignore everyone around me and read my book while he pushes on the swings and referees on the seesaws and watches on the slides. We go back to our campsite, have more smores, and after the kids have retreated to the tents to watch their respective movies, we sit outside in the dark in our folding chairs and stare at the overhead lantern. There are a few moments of quiet reflection before we hear the zip of our tent and Hannah comes out. I want a drink of cold water. I want a chair, too! I don’t want to watch Tom and Jerry, I want Veggie Tales at my house! Where’s my white fuzzy puppy?

I miss those early days with grand ideals of backpacking out in the silent wilderness. But Family Camping is a joy and challenge that in some ways far surpasses my dream of someday taking a week-long (or longer) guided hiking excursion (sans kids). It is a once-a-year reality. Something to be dreaded and anticipated all at the same time. The stuff memories are made of. And one day, I’ll look back on these precious days, and laugh. One day. Right?

Africa, Revisited - part 2

Patience

I was praying for a quick answer. The very next morning I opened my Kindle to continue my “read through the Bible in a year” project that I had going. I had stopped the day before right in the middle of a reading passage, in Psalms. I picked up where I left off and read “Psalm 37:7 Rest in the LORD, and wait patiently for Him…” I sighed in resignation. Seriously, God? First verse of the day? I paged back to catch the entire passage. “Psalm 37:3-7 Trust in the LORD, and do good; Dwell in the land, and feed on His faithfulness. Delight yourself also in the LORD, And He shall give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the LORD, Trust also in Him, And He shall bring it to pass. He shall bring forth your righteousness as the light, And your justice as the noonday. Rest in the LORD, and wait patiently for Him…” I had two words running through my mind…It figures. It was God’s Holy Word and all, but maybe I should try a different source. I opened the Bible study I was working on, Experiencing God. The topic for that day dealt with knowing and doing the will of God. Perfect! I’ll get my answer here, for sure! And what do you know, right there on the second page in a series of bullet points of things that helped George Mueller know God’s will: He waited patiently on God until he had a word from God. Ok, ok—third time in 24 hours hearing “be patient”. I get the point, already!

Wednesday

The informational meeting for the August Africa team was the following Wednesday. As the weekend rolled and the work-week started, I was increasingly anxious. Am I supposed to go? I kept talking about the upcoming meeting in terms of “if”. As in “if” I was going to the meeting. Yeah, right. If. I seriously felt like I could throw up by Wednesday night. I didn’t want to go to the meeting and admit that this thing going on in me was a reality. But I knew if I didn’t go, I would be outright rejecting the call I had been feeling all week, and direct defiance has never really been my thing. What will people say? It will not be a secret that I just returned from a trip in March. Is this completely indulgent? Or just fanatical? On the outside, I had a smile and a brisk walk. On the inside, I was heading to the gallows.

Meeting

I was not the last one to enter a room full of questioning people, like I somewhat feared. I was one of the first. And the director of missions was outside in the hallway, alone. My appearance there was not puzzling to him, as we had been in contact since my trip in March, him advising me on how I could fit into our church’s mission program and be a helpful asset from right here in the States. After a moment of casual conversation, I revealed the main reason I was there. Instead of the reaction of surprise I had feared, carefully measured support came from his eyes. He’s heard and seen this before. Me wanting to go again isn’t a shock to him. I felt relief. Three different people walked by while I was standing there. All of them knew me, and guessed immediately why I was there. While there was some surprise, it was pleasant and supporting. One of them had been on the March trip with me. She hugged me tight out of encouragement and probably a bit of happy envy. She had brought another woman to the meeting, one I knew on a hello-type basis. This woman was nervous to be there. Wanting to go on the trip, but scared to death at the thought. Just like me in March. I walked into the room with her. I felt like I was right where I needed to be.

Malawi-Bound

So I have decided to go on the trip in August. I never received an audible word from God, or an airplane dream, or a verse that says “Go ye therefore to Africa in August”—but ever since the meeting I have felt a peace. I think God wants me to learn and practice patience. I think He wants me to learn how to be quiet and listen. I think He wants me to bow to my own agenda and take on His. And I think he wants me in Malawi in August. Why me? I don’t know—maybe because I’m willing. But every time I voice the question Why Beth? the words of a friend keeping coming back to me. Why not Beth?

Africa, Revisited - part 1

Back to Africa?

I felt the call to go again on Wednesday morning, May 12th. There was nothing special about that day, and no particular reason to be thinking especially about Africa. But the thought entered Hey, what about the August trip? and for some reason the thought lodged, like a piece of dry powdered donut that just won’t swallow right. My usual inclination is to dismiss thoughts that don’t jive with Beth’s Preconceived Order of Things, but for some reason I decided to give this one my ear, if only for a moment. I made a deal with myself, and God, if He was indeed the one daring to suggest I do things somebody else’s way other than my own. I will try this idea on, like a new winter coat. I’ll wear it around for an hour or two this morning and see how it feels. And then I will most likely shuck it off and hang it in the closet where it belongs until it is what I deem the proper time to wear it. And I think at that point that maybe I heard God laugh.

Arguments

Over the course of that day, I started to sweat underneath that layer of the Africa coat. Part of me really wanted to keep it on, and part of me really wanted to rip it off. The timing is all wrong! It is too soon! But too soon for what? Sooner than I had imagined, sure. Sooner than many people would think it was prudent to return, certainly. But not too soon for the people in Malawi. Not too soon for all of those people desperate for someone willing to come and share with them what it means to live a Christian life. The kids will be in school…just go look at the calendar! Yup, school would already be in session. But wait, that simply means that 3 out of 4 of my children are already being cared for from 8:00-3:00 every day. Doesn’t that actually work in my favor? And hrm, what is this? The realization that most of their busy calendar activities don’t start until after Labor Day. The reality upon looking that my calendar is very blank those two weeks. Money! You don’t have enough saved up yet! No, but I did have a decent start. And I could use my church’s fundraising program, sending out letters for additional sponsorship. And what an excellent excuse to share with even more people about my trip, regardless if they felt led to contribute financially or not! There was the distinct sound of a zipper. I had the sinking feeling that this coat wasn’t coming off any time soon.

Busted!

I’m going to have to tell this. There’s nothing like knowing a secret you will be forced to spill eventually. Everywhere I looked I wondered What will he think? Is she going to have a cow? Maybe I can just change my mind and forget I’m even thinking about this. But then I thought about Jonah and knew I wasn’t interested in seeing God’s version of my whale. I saw one of my prayer partners that night at church. She mentioned Africa, and the upcoming trip in August. I’m no poker player, obviously, because she peered at my face and said You’re going back, aren’t you? I admitted I was considering it, and asked her to pray for me, because whether I ended up going or not in the end, I was going to have to go home and tell my secret. She beamed at me and I felt a moment of relief.

Revelation

I’m going to be sick. Am I crazy? Am I just so excited about my March trip that I’m getting ahead of myself? Or am I just inflating my ego by projecting some made-up self-importance that leads me to want to go back again so soon to prove that I’m somehow needed? Or is God truly calling me to go back in August? I put it off as long as possible, which is standard for me. It was after lights-out, which is also typical. That way I can hide in the darkness. I won’t have to see whatever it is I will see on my husband’s face when I tell. Of course he knew something was wrong. He always does. Sometimes he pushes me, with varying levels of success, and sometimes he doesn’t. I love it and hate it when he pushes. Tonight he didn’t have to push. It all just came spewing out, in a cryptic and tangled rush. But I eventually got to the bottom line. I’m not for sure but I think I need to go back to Africa with the August team. And his ultimate answer? Pray about it. Be patient and not anxious as you wait for an answer. But if God is calling you to go again, you go. We will work out the details here at home. I make up a lot of trivial things to be disappointed about along the way, but it’s times like these that I don’t question why I love this man. Sometimes he knows just the right thing to say.

Going Through the Motions

One of my favorite shows several years back was Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I know, I know…not your standard fare for your standard Christian Girl, and certainly the show had no deep significant or eternal redeeming value. But for some reason I enjoyed the teen angst and drama even while set against the backdrop of vampires and demons.

The premise of the show was simple enough: Sarah Michelle Gellar played Buffy, a teenager who had been “chosen” and endowed with super strength to rid her town, and the world, of the big bads that lurked in the night. She had a host of friends who all played their parts to help her out. She was scared of her responsibility at first, and then as she became quite good at what she did for a 16-year-old stereotypical blonde girl, she became cocky and full of herself. However, after several seasons of the daily grind, she found herself disillusioned. She began to appear beaten down, tired and completely without the drive to move forward. Strangely enough, but unbeknownst to each other, the people closest to her all seemed to be going through the exact same thing.

My favorite episode ever is entitled “Where Do We Go From Here”. In that episode, a magic spell is accidentally cast, and everyone in the town is forced to utter their inmost feelings, in the form of a song. Here is part of the lyrics from Buffy’s opening tune:

Every single night
The same arrangement
I go out and fight the fight
Still, I always feel the strange estrangement
Nothing here is real
Nothing here is right
I've been making shows of trading blows
Just hoping no one knows
That I've been going through the motions
Walking through the part
Nothing seems to penetrate my heart
Will I stay this way forever?
Sleepwalk through my life's endeavor?
I don't want to be
Going through the motions
Losing all my drive
I can't even see
If this is really me
And I just want to be
Alive!

Is this resonating a chord with anyone other than me?

Buffy is a show with little more than basic entertainment value, but this episode is so real-life, that it literally screams from the screen. How many of us are “going through the motions” of life? Just hoping nobody notices. Or maybe secretly hoping that someone will? You can’t even see yourself anymore for all of the junk that’s in the way. Things have plodded on the same way for so long, is there even a way out?

Buffy’s little sister Dawn, who is feeling very left out of all the “big-kid” action in Buffy’s life, is given only one line in her song, but it is riveting.

Does anybody even notice? Does anybody even care?

Again, how many of us secretly cry this very thing? John 10:10b says …I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. Life to the full. Not life that is going through the motions. In Jeremiah 31:3, God is talking to the Israelites, his chosen people, but also the same people that time after time disobeyed and rebelled against the very God that had saved them. The LORD appeared to us in the past, saying: "I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness". God loves us that same way. God notices us. God cares. God’s best for us does not include a life lived going through the motions.

I have fallen into the trap of living life going through the motions. But no more. I still have my daily job. That doesn’t change. But going to Africa has shown me that there is more out there for me. I can now do my daily job with joy because I know there are greater things that I can be a part of. I can make a difference. I can live my life to the full.

Keeping it Real

So who, exactly, is Beth Tollett? Beth Tollett is a mother of four who loves them very much but is sometimes very, very glad when her children are gone to the grandparents for weeks at a time and doesn’t miss them at all when they are. I worry that this makes me sound like a really selfish person and an even worse mom. Did I admit that out loud? Just keeping it real.

Beth Tollett likes to read. Yes, Christian fiction like Left Behind, and favorite authors Karen Kingsbury and Francine Rivers, but also science fiction and fantasy—things along the lines of Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings and Twilight. I try and read my Bible some every day, but did you really think that I toted it around everywhere I go to the exclusivity of anything else? Just keeping it real.

Beth Tollett likes to watch television shows. And not Homes and Gardens. No, I prefer suspense and action, fantasy and superheros…Lost, V, Fast Forward, Smallville , Legends of the Seeker. If I were very righteous, maybe I would ban the TV from my house. But I don’t. Just keeping it real.

I recently cold-turkey quit my 10-year addiction to a particular mass multi-player online computer game because I felt it was eating up way too much of my time and attention. We gathered in groups with our swords and shields to go slay various dragons and monsters. I had a very important character—she was the one in front who attacked first. When she went down, usually everybody did. The withdrawal shakes have stopped now, but I still miss her. Hard to understand how I mourn a series of memories generated by pixels? Just keeping it real.

Why do I bother saying all of this? Because people have this idea of what a Christian Person is supposed to look like. And when we are caught saying or doing anything that goes outside of the lines of that box, then we are viewed as being hypocritical to the unsaved world at large. So I’m going to just get it out in the open right now so we’re straight. I am a very imperfect Christian Person, but with a very Perfect Holy Spirit living inside of me. GOD HIMSELF stands in the gap for me many, many times…helping me and strengthening me to not tumble off the cliff edge when it comes time to make choices in life. God simply wants me to live my life for Him and He will help me trim the things from my life that don’t belong, as I go. All I have to do is listen and obey.

Saul-who-became-Paul was a D. Gibbons—a “very bad man” (FlashForward fans, anyone?). He threatened, imprisoned and killed Christian people. Yet God redeemed him and used him greatly in his later years. If God used Saul, who killed uncountable people, can’t he use us? Where do we get the notion that we are too dirty, too unrighteous, too messed up to be bathed clean in Christ?

I’m hoping if I am honest about my faults and struggles, then that transparency lends me credibility as a writer. Believability is important. This is me, not hiding or pretending. This is me, not being judgmental toward others because I have my own issues I’m busy working through. We will all one day answer for our own junk. I’m not going to sift through yours.

But as for me, even while I’m sifting through my own dirty laundry, I want to be used by God. I want to be clean.

This is me, Beth Tollett, keeping it real.

Africa Journal - March 2010 part 8

Day 6

This was the day of our Safari. In times past, the teams went to a game park where you drive through it about 2 hours, then take a 1-2 hour boat tour at the end. Well, because of the rainy season, the roads were washed out. We went to another nearby place instead, called Hippo Lodge, and took a 2 hour boat tour. We saw hippos and elephants, so that was neat, but mainly it was just wonderful relaxing and taking in the amazing scenery. It was so peaceful and beautiful. Because we had time to kill before lunch, we went to the original Safari game park, and drove in about 20 minutes before we got to an impassible area, then turned around and came out. We saw gazelles, baboons and boar. Later that afternoon, most of the group went back out, to take one final shower at Esther’s House (our house still didn’t have any water…5 days in a row), tell the chief of the local area goodbye, and visit a local market. I stayed at the house and slept like the dead…I was all done! I then packed and cleaned myself up. I wrote “I am packed, clean, full and ready to go. This trip was awesome and I want to come back again, but I have given my all and am spent.”

Day 7

“I woke up this morning wondering what the schedule was for today. It was a mixture of disappointment and anticipation to remember that it is time to go home. There is so much I want to remember, to hold on to. There is so much to share, and so much that I will never be able to explain. I thank God for bringing me here, and for pouring into me. For using me, and igniting my passion. I pray for protection for the trip home. I pray for the chance to come here again. I pray for God to lead me and make it clear to me what I am to do now.”

Africa Journal - March 2010 part 7

Day 5

Wednesday morning I woke up so tired. Which is funny, because of course my devotional was titled “Getting Tired?” and my daily verse was a prayer for endurance. “Everyone is expecting today to be mighty. We are leaving earlier and staying later. We finally all know what to do. But, oh, we are tired!”

We went to a different village area today…one we had to drive to. We met the chief there, and besides going out in our normal groups with our normal translators, we were also paired with a local church member from this new area, to go out with us and take our teams in different directions. (Our church went to this village area last year, and planted a church…so these local members were from that planted church…there to lead us around but also to take the names of the new converts from the day, so they could follow up with them and try to get them to attend church in the future). So Rodney and I, and Giles and our leader walked a long way to get to the area we were supposed to canvas. Along the way, Rodney ministered to several groups and had 5 salvations. As we walked along the road, a man named Macford stopped us at his house. While we waited for him to find us a mat to sit on, two women walked by on their way to cut pumpkins (the older one, Filine, had a huge machete in her head covering…the younger one, Juliet, was her daughter). They spoke with the translator to see what we were up to, nodded and walked on a bit, then turned back around and came to sit. I was pretty excited about that, as it meant they were willing to put aside their work to hear what we had to say. Then three adolescent boys came down the path (Timothy, Dennis and Chikondi, which means Love), and I waved them in with promise of “a story”. While we waited, Filine continued to speak with the translator. Giles told me that she said she wished she knew English…so she could sit down and just talk with me! She had such a direct and outgoing but yet friendly, manner…that I immediately took a liking to her and saw her as someone that God could potentially use greatly in this village. When all 6 were finally seated, I used the Evangecube and took my time telling the story. I wanted to be very sure they all understood what I was saying and what it all meant. At the end, I asked if any of them had heard this before, and if any of them had ever accepted Jesus and prayed the sinner’s prayer before. One thing that is tricky in Malawi, is making sure the people understand that salvation is a one-time thing. They love to sit through the story over and over, even if they are already Christians. So if you are not careful, you will sit there and “convert” people that have already been through this before, but because of the language barrier, and their limited post-salvation discipleship, you don’t realize and they don’t understand. Anyway, my 6 all said they had never done this before, but they all wanted to. So I sat there in emotional awe, as I led my first 6 people ever, in the sinner’s prayer to become Christ followers. We took pictures together afterwards, and when I showed them in my camera, Filine squawked and jerked her head covering off and started re-wrapping it. This cracked me up…just like an American, worried about what she looked like in the picture! We laughed and hugged and took another picture before parting ways. It was an amazing and awesome day for me. God had already done so much, that although in the back of my mind, I knew that I wanted to lead someone to Christ… I had told God that I was perfectly fine with that not happening on THIS trip. I had seen so much personal victory, I wasn’t going to be pushy, you know? And then God allows me this honor. I wrote later in my journal…”It was an amazing experience, and a perfect ending for the trip…except God is more amazing than I could plan for, and He had more in store.” Doesn’t He always? Just when you think it can’t get any better…

We met several more groups of believers before we left to head back to the group for lunch. After lunch, we led more discipleship…this time we had a more diverse turnout and so split up the adult men and women. This group of women was very engaging, and I had a great time talking with them about how we are to love God and others, pray without worry, read God’s word, meet with other believers, and share with the unsaved. I leaned heavily on them about how God looked to the believers of the group to reach out and share with their fellow Malawians, and not to simply depend on us Americans that come for one week every 6 months.

After the discipleship time, all of the groups, adults and kids, chief and local church members, our team and our translators…came together for a time of worship and preaching. I had been asked to give my testimony in front of this large group. I grabbed Giles (even though he was Rodney’s translator, I felt very close to him and knew how he felt about me) and together we let that group have it. I had my notes with me this time, but I didn’t use them much until I got to the Roman’s Road verses. “God was all over me—I had no nerves and never stammered around. Being up there, entreating the people, felt as natural as breathing. I was sad to sit down. This trip has been so amazing.” And there isn’t much more to say about it beyond that! After the service, we drove back to Esther’s House for a final farewell. “Everyone was crying, but for perhaps the first day here, I had no tears. I am not sad at all to be leaving. I am only anxious to get home so I can figure out when I can come back.”

Africa Journal - March 2010 part 6

Day 4

My complete journal entry from Tuesday, 6:00 am, Malawi:

“God woke me up again sometime before 5:00. The manner was different this time—I was not worried or agitated. But I feel—passion, urgency and burden. I feel more alive here. I have passion inside me, trapped. It comes out when I teach. I love music, but I feel no call to go teach it. But teaching others discipleship, how to live for God, and how to lead others—now THAT gives me huge passion. What does this mean? What am I to do? God is silent—yet not. I have no booming answer. But here is what I have today—Matthew 25:14-30. A parable, one I read in preparation for this trip, in fact. I understood it on some level at that time, but reading it this morning made me cry. I don’t want to be the lazy evil slave with 1 talent, who buries it—who not only doesn’t use it, but doesn’t even share it with others so they can use it. And I am. And I am convicted. God help me know what to do and how to serve. My mind is rampant with musings and meditation. Show me, God.”

Tuesday was a logistical day for me, and after all the emotion from the two days prior, and all the burden still fresh from the morning, that was probably a good thing. Rodney and I stayed behind at Esther’s House while the others went into the village, and we cleaned and organized the supply closet there at Esther’s House (LOTS of stuff just sitting in there right now because it was all just jumbled and thrown in there—hopefully, now those things will get given away and put to good use) and also we helped price and organize the souvenirs for our team. Instead of our team going into the city somewhere and shopping for overpriced trinkets, a vendor came to Esther’s House with goods. A reasonable price was reached for each item, and the vendor left his things with us for the afternoon. We then re-priced all of the items, with the small mark-up going as proceeds to Esther’s House. When the team came in for lunch, everyone shopped and bought what they wanted, at a cheaper price then we would have gotten otherwise, but still with a profit margin to donate to the orphanage (everybody wins!). We then counted all of the money, separated the Esther’s House cut from the vendor’s proceeds, and tallied all of the items left to make sure everything added up. So that was a different, but very full and busy day for me.

The up?-side to that was that Rodney and I were not available to handle the afternoon adult discipleship, so we passed that torch onto a husband/wife couple on the team. Now this was unexpected, and they were not prepared. The session, while personally burdensome, had been such a high the day before…when we were able to “break through” and find out what the widows really needed to hear and unload on them…that I was so excited for this couple, about what they were fixing to get to experience. They did not necessarily see it in the same light. (Completely understandable…had it been reversed, I would have been freaking out!) I gave them several ideas, told them about the day before, and assured them it was going to be SO AWESOME for them. Long story short, later that night, they said they had NOT been happy at ALL about being thrust into that, but that they were SO glad in the end, because it was an AMAZING and POWERFUL time. And while I missed not going out that morning and teaching that afternoon, I was so glad to be able to have shared that experience with them, by my absence! (I am constantly amazed…God really does know what He’s doing…WHO KNEW??)

My journal entry for the day ends somewhat frustrated. Rodney’s translator pulled me aside and talked with me today. He said he sees a passion for missions in me. I laughed and wondered what he had thought of me initially, on Saturday? He agreed that he didn’t think much of me on that day. I laughed again and agreed. I told him God had called me to a meeting Saturday night, and since then, things had been different. He was very serious when he asked me my commitment level to missions and told me that he was praying for me. He agreed strongly with me that the people of Malawi need discipleship. They need to be taught how to grow in the Lord. Am I one to help do that? I don’t know, but I am humbled and awed that this man would seek me out and encourage me and pray for me…and see something in me that I have a hard time seeing in myself. Which all leads to the frustration. I was not equipped enough before coming on this trip. (I’m just thankful God was gracious enough to give me a middle-of-the-night holy crash course). The new Malawi converts are not equipped at all. There are time, money and logistical mountains in the way. And the vision for people to see the need…the need beyond conversion numbers…the need for true feeding. The need for “Pauls”…strong Christians to come in, set up a Christian hub, get it going, and then move on, encouraging along the way.

“I am eager to help, but how?...There are so many hurdles and barriers to work through…I feel so much passion in this, but what does God want me to do???”

Africa Journal - March 2010 part 5

Day 3, afternoon

The afternoon disciple sessions were designed for whoever we invited during the morning to come to. Our team had split into Adult, Teen and Children teams, and we had made “lesson plans” accordingly, in advance. Well, as things are always changing on the mission field…our Adult group of three got whittled down to two (me and Rodney) and the Teens and Children groups combined to accommodate all of the children projected to attend (they invited the entire elementary school that morning). So there stand Rodney and I, neither of us the “leader” of the Adult discipleship team, with our pre-made lesson plans that covered several of the parables of Jesus. We only had 17 adults show up that day, and all but one of them the very same widow women from the day before. So I vamped. Since I already knew all of these women were Christians, I started with the back of the Evangecube, and my standard Discipleship talk. When I finished, the only response I got was for one of them to say they already knew all of that. Well I was taken aback and at a momentary loss. Rodney stepped in and shared some things that had come to him while I was talking, then he went into the parable of Christian Light, which related to what we were already talking about, plus was on our “lesson plan” for that day. I followed up with the relative parable of the Sower and the Seeds. The lessons we were giving were good, but there just seemed to be little interest. Only a fraction of our time had passed, and we were both feeling very intimidated and uneasy. So we turned to the interpreters, and I asked them to find out what the women were thinking, and what they wanted to hear. The interpreters intervened for us and spoke with the women. After a time, here is what we discovered: the women felt that because they were old, could not travel, and had limited social circles, they had no use in God’s plan and could not share with others. Uh, oh…here we go. The spark flamed and my passion ignited. Once I knew what to talk about, the words poured out again. Between Rodney and I, and our two translators, we ministered like crazy to those women. I was jumping around, pacing, frantic to make my points heard and understood. I implored those women to understand as elder Christians, just how useful they were. That their joy ministered to me. That I had to travel all the way to Malawi to be brave enough to share the Gospel. But that I was only there for a short time…and could only reach so many people. But their job is to constantly minister in their circles…and to disciple the people in THEIR circles to minister to the people in THEIR circles…and on and on…and THAT is how God would explode in Malawi…not because of the few of us who came over for short times on mission trips.

I was so emotionally spent and completely burdened by the time that session was over…that I could barely trudge back to Esther’s House. In our afternoon share time (the 12 of us Americans plus the 12 interpreters/pastors), I felt like the head Malawian pastor was boring holes into me with his eyes. (We had never spoken before, and he had never been around me). So I shared just a bit of the burden I was feeling. He was silent for a bit (that’s the normal Malawi way…you way something and it feels like you are being ignored for sometimes a full minute…but they are really just processing) and then he asked…”What can we do?” I felt so humbled and awed. HE was asking ME advice on how to help his people. While the answer didn’t spit itself out on the spot, it didn’t take long for the answer to coalesce as a clear vision in my mind. The people of Malawi desperately need discipleship. True, honest and steady discipleship. Meetings in their own villages, in their own settings, led by their own people. God’s word coming to life to address their daily needs. Prayer time. Share time. Grow time. But how to make that happen???

My first and last journal sentences for this day are as follows: “More emotions today...” And “My heart is so burdened!”

Africa Journal - March 2010 part 4

Day 3, morning

Monday morning was more evangelizing/and inviting in the village area around Esther’s House, but this time I was ready…Rodney, me, Giles and Evelyn (and baby Zach)…armed with Evangecubes (a rubix-like cube with pictures portraying the “story of salvation”…you flip it around and tell the story as you go…on the back it has pictures that can be used for discipleship for Christians), Bibles, and laminated cards that I had made that had the verses for Romans Road guide to salvation, and also verses that went along with the Evangecube discipleship pictures. No more stammering around for me, thank you!

Our first stop of the day was to visit with Jameson, the local tailor. Rodney told him the Evangecube story, while I noted how sad and quiet this man was, on his front porch with his sewing machine. Turns out Jameson was already a Christian, but when we asked him if there was something we could pray over him for, we found out that business is bad, he was having trouble financially, and was very burdened to help the local orphans. I surprised myself by interrupting Rodney and asking if I could talk with Jameson. I flipped to the back of the Evangecube, and started sharing the things that God wants us to do as Christians. I paused when I got to prayer, and shared Philippians 4:6 with Jameson “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” As this verse is very meaningful to me, I sensed it would also be a very encouraging word for Jameson, and I think that it was.

Our next stop was two men that Rodney led to the Lord while I used the Evangecube to tell the story of Jesus to a group of children in the road…I started with 3 and ended with roughly 25! After I got through with them, they went over to Rodney, and because he didn’t realize I had already shared with them, those precious kiddos got a double dose!

After that, we moved on down and road and spoke with another Christian man. Again, when we asked him if he had a prayer need, he started explaining that he struggled with knowing right things from wrong things and making godly choices. Again, I jumped in and discipled him with words that just poured out from God…about how if he was a child of God, then the Holy Spirit was living inside of him…and that small voice that he heard and felt when it was decision-making time…that was God letting him know what was right and wrong. I encouraged him to always heed that voice, as the more we ignore it, the harder it is to hear.

Next we came across two women walking down the road. Rodney split from me at that point, and went to a nearby housing area. I shared the Evangecube with these women (when you ask if they want to hear the story, the answer is almost ALWAYS an emphatic YES…so different from America!) and discovered these two were also Christians. Well, since discipleship is my heart (have you picked up on that yet??) I flipped to the back and started my talk on Christian living. The first picture is a heart, and the corresponding verse Matthew 22:37-39…You shall love the lord your God with all your heart…etc…and…you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” The older woman of the group immediately got agitated, and had a long discourse with the interpreter, while I looked on, astounded at what I might have said that riled her so. It turns out that both she and the younger woman with her had ungodly husbands…one a mean drunk and the other had taken a second wife. The woman’s question was basically this…HOW do I love him? (And probably irritation and dejection that she was expected to do so, AMEN?) Again, here I went, words spewing forth as I looked them both straight in the eye and told them nothing about this was easy…that it was HARD and God knew it was! But that the way those husbands acted was not the wives responsibility…those men would have to answer to God one day. But it WAS the wives responsibility to LOVE them, to love ON them, to SHOW them the love of God THROUGH them…to PRAY for them…and to let it go and be in God’s hands after that. I knew I had victory when a small, single tear escaped down the older woman’s face. The younger one didn’t even try to hide her emotion. I got choked up with them, and held onto them and prayed for them in the middle of that hot, dusty road…and I knew myself to be blessed beyond anything I could even comprehend…not only for my own personal good fortune, but simply for the opportunity to be there on that day, the courage to have said hello to them in the first place, and the words of God to come pouring out of my heart and mouth to help those ladies.

Our final contact of the morning was a widow woman with 5 children. Again, also a Christian, we prayed with her for provision and protection for her and her children…very legitimate concerns in Malawi.

While we didn’t have a mass of salvations or a huge contact list that morning, I didn’t care. I felt like we had done what we were meant to do…disciple and love on people and share God’s hope in tough times. We headed back to Esther’s House for lunch and to get ready for afternoon Discipleship time.

Africa Journal - March 2010 part 3

Day 2

I woke up after only a couple hours of sleep. The air was hot and stuffy, and my mind was swirling. There was a repeating beat coming from somewhere outside that gave those early morning hours a surreal quality. I knew Sunday would be long, and I told myself to go back to sleep…but God had other plans. The events from the day before came back. My mind would not stop. I started thinking about going out to evangelize in the village, and ideas started coming. I started seeing myself meeting people and telling them about Jesus. I did not stutter or stammer in my mind. I thought ahead to the Widow’s session later that afternoon. I went through the plans I had made, and instead of things falling apart like I was afraid of, things went perfectly in my mind. In spite of myself, I started to look forward to the day. I started praising God, and after a bit longer, I absolutely could not wait to go back to the villages on Monday. I was so excited about the Widows session. I was ready for morning! I finally fell back to sleep.

Of course, then morning came and reality hit. I was exhausted and still scared. What seemed so clear in the dead of night with God breathing on me was now murky and unclear. The following is from my early morning writings: “God is breaking me…I feel so inadequate…there is still no power and water, so no hair dryer this morning…The only way I will make it through today’s very long and rigorous day is God holding me up. I’m about at the end of myself.” God had me about as low as I could go. Dirty, tired, hot. My hair was a wreck so I felt like I looked awful. Group tensions. No sleep. Dizzy spells (side effect from the Malaria medicine). Emotional pressure. Constant feelings of inadequacy. And it was time to go.

I wish there was a way to describe that day to you in a way that would do it justice. We arrived at Esther’s House and church service started….I journaled later that ”it was an amazing experience. The way these people worship and celebrate with each other…is incomprehensible…” I danced and sang with the Malawians. The language barrier, my white skin, my greasy hair…none of that mattered. I held a little girl that wanted to sit in my lap and I just cried. I layed hands on a toddler that was sick and cried some more. After lunch, I danced alongside the widows before their program started. I felt no nervousness when I got up to talk. My only job was to introduce the group and give them an overview of our “lesson plan” before handing it over to the first speaker in our group. But God decided to alter the plan a bit. I surprised myself when I touched the arm of my interpreter and asked her to stay so I could give my testimony. My mind was shouting “Beth! What are you doing! This is NOT on the plan…you do NOT even have your notes with you. You’re going to freeze up in the middle!” But there was no stopping this. I gave my testimony, somewhat aware that my teammates were sitting behind me with their mouths open. When I was done, someone told me “Good Job!” I remember focusing on them and murmuring blankly…”I didn’t know I was going to do that…That wasn’t me!” Everyone did their part of our plan and it was amazing. Our session was on Peace, Love and Joy. When each topic had been talked about, then my part was go get up and tie it all together by teaching the song “Peace Like a River”. It was so amazing, all of us singing and hand motioning together.

The day continued after that…we took showers at Esther’s House (a cold trickle, but the best shower I’ve ever had). Back at the house, we made some awesome chicken spaghetti for the team for supper. And just when the day couldn’t get much better, the power came back on, and I got to dry my hair! Of course, one victory does not a war win, as my journal will testify. “Can tomorrow or the days after possibly measure up to today? Was the victory a one-time high? What happens to my mindset when I freeze in terror again? Or maybe even worse, what happens when I don’t, and get prideful? God can lift me up and He can take me down. I know God has a purpose for me, something more…something new, something bigger. He just has to get me to the place where He can use me first.”

Fast-forward to 11:00pm that night. My journal reads: “God is so good! Yesterday was one of the hardest days of my life…[but] God didn’t just sustain me today, He showed Himself POWERFUL and MIGHTY and above all TRUSTWORTHY.

Africa Journal - March 2010 part 2

Day 1

Saturday morning we gathered at Esther’s House, met our translators, and were sent out into the nearby village to start meeting people and inviting them to church the following day. “It was nerve-wracking at first, trying to make conversation (with the interpreters) and trying to understand each other. My first experience in the village was horrible…the people were very reserved and I didn’t know what to say.”
My interpreter was Evelyn, wife to Joseph, one of the guys on staff at Esther’s House. She has a young boy named Zach (after Zach Kennedy) that she carried around with us on her back. I paired up with another teammate, Rodney, and his interpreter Jailosi (Giles). Both of us mainly just stumbled around together that first day, taking the lame tactic of saying…”We’re, um, from the United States…and we’ve, um, come to invite you to church at Esther’s House, and um, do you have any questions about Jesus? No? Oh, ok, um, good. Well, we hope to see you tomorrow…” Need I say more?

When we got back to Esther’s House to reconvene at the end, I was horrified to hear of others that had many conversions that day and had shared Jesus with their Evangecube and the Roman’s Road. We were sent out with very little direction that morning, and it didn’t even occur to me to witness. I was struggling to simply make conversation. I felt more inept than ever. I tucked myself into a single window seat on the bus that afternoon, and cried all the way back to the house. I dreaded the next day, Sunday, when I would have to lead a discipleship time for the 50 non-residential widows that our church cares for through Esther’s House, and I dreaded even more having to go back out into the villages on Monday after that.

That night there was much logistical work to do: sorting clothes, preparing gift bags for the widows and orphans, preparing toothbrushes and fluoride for the hygiene session, etc. We were all exhausted and tensions were high. There were differing opinions on what we should do and how we should do it. Because I was head of logistics, I was forced to make unpopular calls, and because I was exhausted and feeling the lowest of lows about myself, I am quite certain that my leadership efforts, while given with the best of intentions, did not come across as…nicely and diplomatic…as perhaps they should have. As a result, there were tensions between myself and a fellow team member, and a confrontation followed later that night which left me in tears and more certain of anything that I did not belong on this trip (even as I was certain that God wanted me there). So, ok, I was organizing things. I was cooking supper for the group. I was “being mama” to two of the younger girls in my room. My beef with God was that I could (and did) already do all of those kinds of jobs at home. Did I really need to come all the way to Africa just to play Mom to a mission team? Seriously?

I did not journal that night.

Africa Journal - March 2010

Getting Started

BEFORE THE TRIP
“I’ve been so emotional the last couple of days. I have tried to think so little about the trip, just to avoid the emotions.” That is the first sentence in my journal, and was the way of it as the trip neared. I felt little about the trip, no excitement, and had a breakdown the night before, certain that I was not prepared enough and that God would not be able to use me because I had not properly done my part.

TRAVEL
On my first flight, I penned the following: “I think wrestling with myself is going to be the hardest part…it’s my mind and emotions exhausting me right now.” A few hours later I was no better…”I’m feeling pretty unsettled and down. I feel a bit isolated…” After several hours into the flight to London my outlook was a bit better after some sleep, some OJ with ice, and an in-flight movie. Still, the cry of my heart was as follows…”When I stop to consider it, I still wonder what I’m doing here. I hope so bad that by the return trip, I feel I had purpose, made a difference.”

Then we hit Heathrow. After sightseeing during the day in London, we went to get our boarding passes to Addis Ababa, only to find that one of the airlines (your choice, United blamed Ethiopian Air and Ethiopian Air blamed United) booked all 12 of us under one name…Mr. Malawi Group…and gave us 1 seat to share. Long story short, nobody admitted blame and we stayed at a hotel on London that night. I chose to believe there was a reason God was protecting us by keeping us in London another day. Perhaps it was simply Satan trying to unnerve us. (The up-side is that we got to shower that night.) After more uncertainty the following morning, we finally got new tickets and boarding passes for that night. After we got to Addis, we had another issue getting onto the last flight to Lilongwe. Our Addis/Lilongwe flights had both been printed on the same ticket. That ticket was collected at Heathrow, although we were given a boarding pass for Addis to Lilongwe. Well Addis demanded not just our boarding pass, but our ticket as well, or we couldn’t go on to Lilongwe. (As a side note, neither could we stay at Addis, because we didn’t have a Visa to leave the terminal!) I don’t know what changed their mind, but at the last minute, the people at the counter relented, and let us board. There were several of us who just wanted to go home at that point, we were so rattled. Were we not supposed to be in Africa???

MALAWI
Finally, touchdown in Malawi. We boarded a bus meant for about 12, and crammed it with 19 people (7 of them Malawi-ans) and tons of luggage. The sensory overload was incredible, if you catch my drift. There were amazing sights on the drive (captured in pictures and video) but we were so exhausted by the time the 3-plus hour journey was over. We were soon busy with moving into our house and figuring out the logistics of living there for a week. The water went out before I got around to getting my shower that night, so I made do with a pan of boiling water (with no cold to mix with it). My final thoughts after that first night: I’m nervous, I’m apprehensive. I’m homesick, like I always am when I’m away. We are told the time will fly past. I’m glad I’m here, but I hope it does.”

Africa Trip Testimony - Spring Break 2010

Written on April 17, 2010

When I walked into the Malawi mission trip meeting last fall, I had no intentions of going to Africa. I didn’t even plan to stay for the whole meeting. Walking in there was my nod to God…it was me obeying the persistence I felt to “someday” go on a mission trip “somewhere.” I have since learned from this experience that if you are willing to get your toes wet, you might as well be prepared to cannonball into the pool…because when God gets involved, anything is possible.

I left that meeting feeling called to go to Malawi, but completely baffled as to why. I heard nothing described in that meeting that I felt like I could even do, much less be good at. After an indisputable word from God, I committed to go, and felt complete peace about the decision, but continued to battle those feelings of personal inadequacy all the way to Malawi.

Once in Malawi, we were sent out into the villages to evangelize and invite. I froze up completely, not knowing what to do or say, and wished I was anywhere but in Africa. I cried all the way back to our house that night, beseeching God for help, and devastated at the thought that the only good reason I was on the trip was to cook, “mother” the younger ones, and help organize things. God allowed me to personally break that evening, only to wake me up a couple of hours later to have a meeting with me.

God came through that night, like He always does when we call on Him. It felt like He was right there with me under my mosquito net, for a good two hours—while I kept telling him I really needed to get some sleep! But during that time, God assured me not only of His endless love, but His awesome power…and His everlasting endurance, even in the face of fatigue and discouragement. I began to see myself leading, sharing and ministering to the people without hesitation. God put words into my head to say. I began to be excited about the rest of the trip, and excitedly anxious for morning. I thanked God for His mercy until I fell asleep again.

God used me in an incredible and powerful way the remainder of the trip. He allowed people with needs to cross my path, and words of comfort to come out of my mouth. I found myself excited about sharing, instead of nervous. Whether it was ministering to ladies on the roadside, leading my first 6 people to Christ, or giving my testimony in front of a large group, God was allowing me to experience a brand-new meaning of living for Him. A passion exploded in me that I have never felt before…a passion to disciple the Christian people of Malawi. Along with that passion, however, came a deep burden.

While there is currently an explosion of the gospel in Malawi, resulting in large numbers coming to Christ, there is also a discouraging lack of discipleship. New Christians are left in the dark, unsure of what it means to live a Christian life and lacking in the resources and means to be able to learn. What can we do?

• WE CAN PRAY not only for the outgoing mission teams and the unsaved, but also the new Christians of Malawi. "And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the saints" Ephesians 6:18.


• WE CAN CONTRIBUTE on a regular and sacrificial basis to missions. “In everything I showed you that by working hard in this manner you must help the weak and remember the words of the Lord Jesus, that He Himself said, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’” Acts 20:35.


• WE CAN GO and help the cause. “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations…teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you…” Matthew 28:19-20.


• WE MUST BE READY AND WILLING to recognize and respond to God’s call on our lives. “With this in mind, we constantly pray for you, that our God may count you worthy of his calling, and that by his power he may fulfill every good purpose of yours and every act prompted by your faith. We pray this so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you…” 2 Thessalonians 1:11-12.
  

Introduction

Hello, my name is Elizabeth Allison Cross Tollett and none of you know me. Oh, you know of me, or you know what you think you know about me. But you don’t really know me. I look in the mirror at times and don’t even know myself, so don’t feel bad about that. I have looked in the mirror countless other times and haven’t wanted to know me. Not because I have some deep, dark secret. Not because I’m a horrible person. But because I’ve been such a pathetic example of a Christian life.

I became a Jesus-believer, born-again, Christian follower around the age of 6. I don’t remember a whole lot about it, but I have never doubted that it was absolutely sincere. What I haven’t done since then is live it. And for that I’m ashamedly regretful.

Revelation 3 talks of the lukewarm church of Laodicea. God talks of spitting their lukewarm yuckiness from his mouth. As I like my cocoa scathing hot or my water ice cold, I get this. Believe and act like it, or don’t believe and at least not be hypocritical about it. There is no value in riding the fence.

Our nation is in trouble. Our world is tilting out of control. We try to fix the anger, the sadness, the despair—with all sorts of things. We need our President…or a new President. We need to go to war…or we need to boycott the wars. We all need drugs…or maybe we need to ban all of the drugs. We need to be accepting of others to the point of not having any rights ourselves. Acceptance of our jobs, our income, our friends, our contacts, our relationships, our orientation—can’t we all just love one another and live in peace? But none of that is the answer. We will never have personal peace and we will never see reform in this world—until this nation returns to God-centered lives. And it starts with those of us who claim to be God followers.

My blog is not about harassing anyone to follow God. It is not about converting, preaching, or condemning. It is about one regular person, a stay-at-home mom with four children, who had everything outwardly going for her but was simply going through the motions of life. Until one day when she finally did what she felt God was calling her to do, and since then has been experiencing the rush of John 10:10b …I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.

Is your life full of good things or junk? Do you have peace? Or, like me, do you look into the mirror and try to reconcile what you see there with what you feel and know to be true on the inside?

God took me to Africa to open up my eyes and heart. It would be my desire for everyone to feel what I’ve felt. Come and go on this journey with me and see what God might want to say to you.