During our annual indulgence in Christmas cookies, I’ve been reminded of special cookie events from my past. For a short while I became famous within a very small community for making cookies. I love baking cookies, so I became the cookie champion for our family Christmas gatherings. We ladies would sit around chatting while munching from a big platter of more than eight varieties of cookies that I’d baked. These coffee and cookie chats are one of my favorite Christmas memories.
But I was also reminded of a special week in our early days of living in Zambia when Randy and I ate cookies for supper every night. Oh the sweet memories! As part of a coordinating committee for a city-wide crusade, we offered to sort the response cards and distribute them to pastors the following morning along with follow up packets. Each day after helping close down the crusade venue we would head to our tiny apartment with our stack of response cards. We were pretty tired, so we munched on our special cache of home made cookies while we recorded information from the cards on our little Apple 2c computer. Our supper of cookies made a tedious task rather pleasant.
Our foray into statistics also yielded some surprising findings. After sorting the cards by geographical locations we would put them in groups to distribute to the area pastors we had trained for crusade follow up. By the second day it became apparent that a major part of those responding at the crusade were from one “compound” near town that was known as a haven for thieves. But with this information came a dilemma. We had no pastors to give these cards to. At our daily pastor’s briefing we discovered there was no evangelical church in this compound! We had hundreds of new believers with no church and no shepherd. We added special prayer to our nightly cookies and statistics.
Near the end of the week the leaders of one denomination offered to send all their Bible school students into the compound for two weeks of outreach. The students’ courageous visits to new believers and their families resulted in a church plant in the middle of this poverty ridden location. One student was so moved by the needs he encountered that he was inspired to commit to return after graduation to pastor this fledgling church.” Jack is still there!
I love recalling those late nights of statistics and cookies. And I delight in remembering this special pastor and church that have made Jesus known to their neighbors, ministered to the needs of community, and lowered their compound’s crime rate. Cookies, statistics, and church planting make for wonderful memories.
photo courtesy of photobucket.
I love going through a cupboard to find treasure. This began as a little girl when I was forced to clean the walk-in closet in the large bedroom I shared with my sister. We had periodically “cleaned” our room by tossing our possessions into the back of that long dark closet. So when we reluctantly tackled the closet I was delighted to rediscover clothes, shoes, books, games, and toys we had blithely tossed into the darkness. The cleanup was tedious, but I discovered the pleasure of treasure hunting.
So yesterday I got to tackle one cupboard in my mother-in-law’s kitchen because I needed to get at the roasting pan. It’s not my kitchen, but I was still stirred by the spirit of discovery. In that one cupboard I found some amazing “treasures.” I mean, really. My mother-in-law has a heavy duty roasting pan that is more than fifty years old but still as good as new. I got to try it out today!
And on the bottom shelf, buried under stacks of saved paper bags and boxes of wax paper and foil I found the most amazing like-new cake pans just awaiting an eager cake-baker. I also found a little packet of original sample “Ziplock bags” with the words “you’ve never seen a storage bag like this before!!!” This well preserved sample could be in the Dow museum.
In the busyness of our recent transition I’ve been pondering forgotten treasures. While walking through the “lostness” that normally accompanies transition, I’ve been recalling the memory treasures we have piled up through our years of serving in Africa. I have flashbacks of chatting with friends over tea, under a tree, in a sidewalk café, and while bouncing over the ruts of an African road. When I miss the direct ministry, I take a foray into recalling the faces of students we have taught in simmering heat under thatch, in the icy cold of a morning, in spacious airy classrooms, and under trees. I revel in the parade of students who have become leaders and missionary statesmen. Treasures imbedded in my memory.
In this new season when we are so far from our teaching and traveling life, I’ve experienced a sense of emptiness. I’m not teaching a workshop. I’m not discipling new missionaries. I’m not visiting or praying with missionaries. But God stepped in to remind me of the hidden treasure he’s created inside of me through many years of service. Through hardship he’s shaped my character and taught me longsuffering and patience. He’s nurtured in me a deep sense of trust in His faithfulness. And he’s hammered out knowledge, skills, and tools for teaching and inspiring learners. Rubbing shoulders and even clashing with others has dug deep wells of understanding and empathy. Treasures gathered along the missionary journey.
I fully expect God to direct us about how to continue ministering into Africa from our new location. But for this season of separation, I’m enjoying the treasures I’d forgotten. Jesus told his disciples, "Therefore every teacher of the law who has been instructed about the kingdom of heaven is like the owner of a house who brings out of his storeroom new treasures as well as old." (Matt 13:52) I’m enjoying the new treasures I’m finding in serving my mother-in-law and the new insights I’m discovering in my reading and studying, but I want to be a wise householder who brings out old treasure, polishes it, and puts it to use again. I love rediscovering hidden treasure. What about you?picture from www.pixmac.co.uk
