Climbing, Counting, Contemplating...

For 700 years, the Waldensians lived in hiding, under persecution. They became known as the “Inconquerables”—though thousands were martyred, they remaining dedicated to the Scriptures, traveling out from the Pellice Valley into the cities of Italy and beyond to tell others about the truth of God’s word. A community of Waldensians continues worldwide to this day. Torre Pellici, where OM Italy has its offices, is the worldwide headquarters for the Waldensians.



Each afternoon, after having climbed about the Waldensian sites, we returned to Forterocca to drink coffee and begin our meetings. Sobered by the history of the valley, we were beginning to catch the vision OM Italy has for Forterocca. And in case we didn’t get it, the OM Italy team brought out one of their secret weapons: David.

You might remember David from one of my earlier posts; he had given us our first tour of Forterocca. We didn’t see much of David, as he was on vacation, but he showed up that Friday afternoon, after we had had a chance to soak up the history of the area, after we had worked through some logistical details about a training program, and after we had talked out team dynamics. Then David gave us the vision--eloquently. A former professional athlete, David has been inspired by the history of the valley. Here was a man who was the incarnation of a Waldensian man.

The Waldensians picked their best and their brightest to read, study and memorize the Scriptures, before going out to the continent to bring the Gospel. Could we find artists with the same passion and commitment? Ready to follow in the footsteps of the martyrs who carried God’s word out from this valley, even if it cost them everything?

The Waldensians studied for two years, at great cost and personal sacrifice, in the face of death and at the risk of martyrdom; could we find interns who would come at some financial cost, but negligible risk, to a very nice facility, for 90 days?

A mixed group, male and female, Western and non-Western? Would we raise an additional $10,000 to ensure scholarships for the non-Western participants who might not have the means to come?

Would we recruit a pastoral care couple to shepherd the group, as well as facilitators and guest lecturers?

What was our commitment as OM Arts?

Were we going to run a simple training program, head knowledge transmitted (maybe) to a bunch of spoiled Westerners, or would we be willing to live with these interns for 90 days, and share our very lives?

In return, David promised to “rip our legs out to make this work for you, but we've only got two."

Well, don’t mince words, David!!!

Three hours later, we emerged from our huddle, David’s challenges ringing in our ears, and went to dinner. I hardly knew how to respond when someone asked, “So, what do you think!?” “I don’t know,” I answered. “I think my life’s just been changed…again…”

“Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Will he not first sit down and estimate the cost to see if he has enough money to complete it?” (Luke 14:18)

I was far from even understanding the cost, never mind counting it.

“In the same way, any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple.” (vs. 33)

When I look at what the Waldensians gave up, and what I would give up, I feel like an infant disciple. All I can do is count and pray, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening…”

Epsom

I have made a new friend in France, and his name is Epsom.

At my most recent stop, in Villeneuve D’Ascq, I stayed with two friends, who shall remain nameless. One of these friends lost her sight in a car accident almost 20 years ago; the other friend took her in, enabling her to transition from normal life to life without sight.

This year, my blind friend moved into an apartment to live independently. (The other friend is also staying with her temporarily while some work is done in her home.) The move included some training in how to live alone, and the arrival of Epsom, the guide dog.

Epsom is only 18 months old, and needs a couple more years to be fully adapted to my friend, and to being a seeing eye dog. For the time being, he knows the basic commands, and must learn to adapt to my friend—her rhythm, her voice, her commands, her routes. But he is easily distracted; as we went out for several walks, Epsom kept looking at cats, children, other dogs, and me, as if I was the seeing one in this group, and surely I should take charge of the situation!

As we walked through one park, I was disturbed to see how many people let their dogs run loose, creating quite a challenge for Epsom and my friend. Time after time, Epson ‘broke ranks’ and charged after a dog on the loose, who would come running up to him to do that sniffing/aggression thing, to determine the alpha dog in the routine.

And although I had to be very circumspect in not responding to Epsom’s doleful brown eyes, and let my friend instruct him, one intervention proved necessary: when Epsom led my friend under a sign, walking through the bars while she would surely have endured a face plant if I had not grabbed her arm.

Entering my friend’s world was eye-opening (no pun intended!). Her courage in the face of incredible challenges, and her spirit in attacking one after another with simplicity and good humor, humbled me. And as schedules turned out, we had some long stretches of time to explore our spiritual landscapes, and bolster each other’s faith. At the end of my time with her, we planned skype calls and a vacation together in Atlanta as soon as possible.

Chez Les Barrauds

Catherine was the first friend I made when I moved to the North of France in 1995. We met while attending a meeting of the French-American Club; after talking for a while, we exchanged phone numbers, and I wasn't quite sure if she would call, or if I should call, but before I had the time to think about it much, Catherine called. She had passed some years of study in the States, and retained a love for the American culture. Maybe I could help her keep up her English?

Apart from English, we shared a love of art, psychology, and faith. We began a Bible study together, and passed several years discussing the great questions of the faith.

In 1996, Catherine met Fred, and I got to know him too as a great tease, a connoisseur of wine and good food, and an adept businessman. They visited me in the US when I was home on furlough in 1997, to ask me to be a witness of their marriage, which took place in 1998. I was speechless at the honor, but happily accepted.

And in 1998, I traveled to the family vacation home in Charentes, near Bordeaux, discovering that region with great delight. The wedding truly was magical and romantic, among the vineyards that produce some of the great wines of the region, and a specialty called Pineau de Charentes. I felt like I was in a movie most of the day. And this was the day before digital cameras, when almost all my film was lost in a developing error. But the memories are untouchable.

Now Catherine and I continue to plunge into conversations about art, psychology and faith, often during a long walk around whatever neighborhood they happen to be living in at the time. Fred and I discuss politics, economics, wine and the French culture. The kids ask me questions in English, and we watch “Raiders of the Lost Ark”; I read them stories at night.

Life is simple, if hectic with five kids, and I am grateful there is no TV in the house, no grand airs. Just good old-fashioned friendship, around a good walk, or a table of good food, with good conversation. Le Bonheur, quoi?!

Fifteen years, one husband, and five children later, Catherine remains a loyal and astonishing friend. How many women do you know who can raise five children, work, not be on Facebook, and still find the time to communicate with me on a regular basis?! Merci Catherine! Je t’embrasse! Et Fred, ben, merci pour les bonnes bouffes, les bons vins et astuces sur la culture francais, et tes blaques :) Bonne continuation avec le troupeau!

Off to the North I go...

"Art is Healthy!"

One of our more retiring artists, soft-spoken and very ‘British’, had difficulty speaking up when we were gathered as a large group; she was comfortable sharing one on one, or in our small group. Not thinking she had anything to contribute, or afraid of what others would think about what she said, she often kept quiet. But she wanted to conquer that fear, and asked for prayer.


On the last day, as testimonies began, she stood, sporting an “Art is Healthy” tee-shirt, and spoke eloquently of the effect of the week on her. Those of us who know her were astonished, and cheered the victory. Everyone affirmed her with an immediate gathering around her for prayer. I was smiling like a proud mother. I love it when ‘my’ artists reach up in faith to take hold of all that God has for them. Maybe Ellen will join us again, but especially, may Ellen join Jesus on every adventure He has for her.

Dreams and Pine Trees

One of the particularities of missions is the way God uses dreams and visions in both the believer and the unbeliever. Although I had heard of it as a phenomenon in the Middle East and Africa, I was surprised by how common it was in France too; many of the believing French Christians there had come to faith through a dream or vision in which God or an angel appeared to them.

Another phenomenon that is quite common is for arriving missionaries to experience nightmares. It is as if the demonic world mobilizes as soon as a missionary arrives, to destabilize the person. Sometimes the person wakes with the impression that he/she is being choked. It happened again on this outreach.

I had a bad dream the first night I arrived in Italy, but that was as far as it went. But the first night of outreach, two of our artists were disturbed by nightmares, and one had the impression someone was trying to choke her. A third had a bad dream and felt a demonic presence in her room; her baby had nightmares. We prayed as a team to neutralize this weapon the enemy uses to deprive workers of sleep and peace. The disturbances continued briefly, with less potency, as the fear in the artists diminished by exposure of the tactic. They were surprised to learn how common a tactic it is.

On the other hand, God uses dreams and images to capture our attention and guide us through outreach, and that is what I want to concentrate on. As we continued to fight through this in prayer, and the disturbances stopped, the good stuff came!

I had two dreams during the outreach that gave me tremendous encouragement, neither one of which I completely understood, but at least got that God was trying to strengthen and encourage us!

In one dream, there was a huge pine tree, so tall I could see neither bottom nor top. I was ‘hovering’ somewhere in its middle, with another Italian, who was working on a wood sign suspended there from a branch. On the sign was carved “Italia Evangelista.” The Italian was rapturous, expounding on something unintelligible to me, with much hand waving. The dream was over as quickly as it began. But the feeling remained of great joy, and that the Lord was with us. Our strenuous weekend was about to begin: with our move to another location followed by our first exhibit in Teramo.

Was the gospel coming to Teramo that day? Hard to believe in retrospect! Was God with us? Absolutely! Was He pleased with our efforts? I’m sure. “Italia evangelista”—literally, female Italian evangelist—who was that?! Me, or one of the young Italian women I was working with? I don’t know, and don’t need to. And that was that…or so I thought.

Last night, I had another dream, referring me back to Italy, my dream of the pine tree, and a Scripture I read yesterday, as I continue the ‘decanting’ process of all that happened there, and prepare to launch into the next ministry year. In my jet lag, I forgot both the first dream, and the Scripture, but God reminded me through a second dream. The Scripture?

The Lord, speaking to Israel, says: “I am like a green pine tree; your fruitfulness comes from me.” (Hosea 14:8)

Wow! I had a good laugh, and yes, it is hard to see fruit from our work in Teramo, but what a great, funny, unorthodox reminder, through two dreams, that I can rest in what was done. God, who sometimes symbolizes himself as a pine tree, will do the rest (no pun intended!).

And I am thoroughly enjoying the fact that outside my front picture window and door, a pine tree forest is all that I see…

Rained Out!

I woke up Friday before the exhibit with a nagging concern about the weather. The Italian team didn’t seem to deal in ‘what if’s’ (nor do I as a rule) but one does need to consult one’s left brain from time to time and be practical. I could see the Italian creative process was at least in motion, with hints of tents, but nothing was definitive. Prayer always works well in these situations, don’t you think?!

The response to prayer time was…unexpected: God reminded me that Jesus’ commanded the wind and the waves, and I could too. Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m not there yet!!! I was about to get my faith stretched.

To my relief, Saturday dawned bright and beautiful. No tent appeared, but we did find a large patio umbrella, unused for the past several years. We set up under a hot sun, joking that maybe God could arrange for one little cloud, directly overhead. A Catholic cathedral loomed over the piazza; we sat on its steps, in the shade, to eat lunch. And then a little cloud appeared.

We went back to work, ignoring it as best we could, until Meri came up to me, her big eyes wide with fear. “Look!” she pointed, leading my gaze up to an ominous cloud bank forming over the cathedral. Hmmm….now comes the stretch of faith part of the day…I grabbed her by the shoulders and we prayed. The clouds moved off.

More installation…chicken wire to scaffolding, artwork carefully wired to chicken wire. Our translators were already busily engaged with Italians circling the exhibit, wondering what was going on. We were just about finished...and the sky was completely covered with clouds.

The looks on everyone’s faces were as dark as the clouds. I gathered the troops under our umbrella, and we linked arms. After a few anemic prayers, I shouted out for a song: “Cantiamo!!!” Startled, the artists began singing…hesitantly at first, and then with more verve. We may not lick this rain thing, I thought, but we are not going down without a fight! The sky and the artists brightened. We resumed our work.

As the last of the exhibit was set up, I noticed a few rain drops on the ground. I sat on the steps again with a forlorn Sarah, who was eyeing the darkening sky. “We might want to start thinking about moving the artwork closer to the arcades,” I suggested…

KABOOM!!! The skies opened and under a torrential downpour, we scrambled—SAVE THE ARTWORK!!!

A maddening fifteen minutes later, we were drenched and huddled under the umbrella, the artwork under our wings, with every available towel, tablecloth and jacket conscripted into service. The boxes of literature were soaked, and being run to the arcades by several on our team. Cameras got wet. The looks on everyone’s faces…well, watch for photos on Facebook!

But we had managed to rescue most of the artwork. Diving first for the watercolors and collages, we sustained minor casualties, mostly with the photography and literature.

Time to regroup. When the rain let up, we had a quick discussion. Technically, we didn’t have the right to set up under the arcades; if the police didn’t come after us, the shopkeepers might. What did the Italians think? “Bouf,” grunted Sarah. “God’s law.” Good enough for me!

Again, my team gets high points for perseverance under difficulty! We marched the whole exhibit under the arcades, in flagrant violation of Italian law, and defied anyone to roust us. We did not come this far to be rained out!!!

The police did come…but not for us. The shopkeepers didn’t complain. In the end, however, we were licked by apathy. The Italians didn’t come. Well, not many.

I’ve never drawn in public without drawing a crowd, except in Teramo. Even face-painting couldn’t draw folks in, and the artists were soon painting each other; eventually they abandoned the effort altogether. Suspicion was so strong, not many even ventured down the arcade to see the artwork. When they did, the Italians set to with earnest expectation and traditional hardcore street evangelism, getting dangerously close to a fight at least once!!! We were there for four hours, then packed and left to no one’s regret.

Results? In spite of as lackluster a day as you could imagine, what did happen in Teramo is important for the church.

We connected with some isolated believers, who didn’t know that there were any churches in the city. An Assembly of God church identified itself, and so we were able to connect that group with Jonathan’s house church, and the isolated believers. Jonathan was greatly encouraged. And Pastor Giorgio got a text message, in Germany, from someone responding to our distribution of literature. We hope to hear more positive fruit in the future, but only God knows all that happened there that day.

And my faith? I am still in the school of prayer, pondering what it takes to command the elements. When I grow up, I want to be like Elijah…“a man just like us. He prayed earnestly that it would not rain, and it did not rain on the land for three and a half years. Again he prayed, and the heavens gave rain, and the earth produced its crops.”—James 5:17

But I won’t agree to an open-air art show any time soon!