Urbana Update

Urbana Day 4 –

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. This morning, at Urbana, York Moore shared the gospel. Hundreds of students made a commitment for Christ. There were those who came from religious backgrounds, but have never made their faith their own. There were those who didn’t know why they came to Urbana. God is working in the lives of the individuals here both for their salvation and the salvation of others.

A young woman wants to work with the Goth subculture in Japan. An Asian-Canadian has a heart for the Native peoples of Alaska. A young man is looking to use teaching to reach the hearts of students in Asia. A guy is wondering how he can use sports ministry in Europe.

These students share the light of Christ with a dark world. Pray for us as we spend one more day talking with students who are seeking God’s will in their lives.

Urbana Day 5 –

Finishing well, it's always a challenge. You come to the end of a semester as a student and you're worn out. You come to the end of a mission trip and you're spiritually exhausted, to the end of a job and you just want to move to the new opportunity before you. Today at Urbana the SEND representatives greatest challenge was finishing well. We were tired. Our throats were growing scratchy. We'd shared our heart with student after student for four days already. Somehow, though, we had to give today's visitors to the booth the same care and attention that we'd given visitors on Day 1.

The day started with a study of John 4, Jesus' encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well. He was tired. He was thirsty. He asked for a drink, and then He shared the living water. In the general session, the words, "Man of Sorrows what a name, for the Son of God who came ruined sinners to reclaim. Hallelujah, what a Savior!" washed over us, our voices joining with 17,000 others who were calling out to the Man of Sorrows for another day of strength.

And that tired, parched, sorrowing Savior gave His strength, His encouraging hand, His power for one more day. From the moment the hall opened until a few moments after the final call for students to depart, we continued to talk with students about what God is calling them to. The board with the prayer of surrender continued to fill.

The night finished with an hour of communion, breaking the bread together, sharing the cup. And then, we worshiped in the New Year;17,000 students, thousands of exhibitors and people from local churches, singing and praising God together for His goodness.

When the emcee, Greg, began his announcements in the evening, he mentioned that it was the end of our time together. To the sound of disappointment that rose from the crowd, Greg held up his hand, "Woah!" he said. "No! This is a missions conference! If we were to stay here worshiping together we would have failed! We are called to GO!"

Thousands of students were called to GO this week. May God equip them to answer the call.

Urbana

Urbana – Day 1

Morning began with most of the SEND crew having arrived…Amy still stuck in Chi-town, Dan still driving in from VA…we rolled on over to the exhibit hall to register and set up by mid-morning, and wandered through the floating snowflakes. Unloading the van in the cold was, well, cold.

The SEND crew got registered and the booth set up, and the doors opened to students at 3 PM. For three hours various members of the crew hung out by the booth connecting with students. Amazing to see how many students came through already today, looking to see what God might have for them to discover this week.

Over the course of the afternoon, it wasn’t uncommon to see a SEND exhibitor talking with students, taking them over to the opportunities peg board to pick a card or two, then stopping to pray with them before they left.

In the kick-off session for the week Jim Tebbe, the director of Urbana challenged us to think about our neighbor, both next door and around the world. Ramez Atallah, the Bible expositor for the week, challenged us to imagine any middle class couple choosing to have their baby in the slums outside Cairo – no medical care, dirty facilities – and reminded us that God sent His Son to be born in a dirty manger among the poor of the earth.

Urbana Day 2 –

Amy made it in! We celebrated her arrival by singing “Happy Birthday” to Tom, about 10 times over the course of the day, in every public venue we could find…

Students have dreams…a girl we met wants to start a school in Japan, another a bookstore. A missionary kid is discovering how God has prepared him to reach international students at his university. A couple is searching for how their gifts in carpentry and administration can be used on a field. All of these students with dreams spoke with SEND reps today. Conversations led to connections, connections to prayer.

One of the most exciting parts of the Urbana experience is the opportunity to connect with students who are seeking God’s direction. There’s a board at the SEND booth that students can sign on which is written a simple prayer of commitment: “I will go anywhere to do anything, at any time, at any cost.” There are signatures beginning to fill the white space, students who are willing to commit themselves to God’s call, without agenda or plan.

Urbana - Day 3

Three years ago Drew met Ron at the SEND booth at Urbana. Drew was in college, interested in missions, and looking for a place to serve. Today, Drew came back to the SEND booth. The colors of the display have changed; the location in the exhibit hall is a bit different. Drew is now a graduate student in seminary; Ron's grandkids have grown a little older.

But the mission has not changed. There are still people who need the gospel, still people groups who have no evangelical witness. There are still young people seeking God's mission for them. There are still mobilizers who desire to equip those young men and women and mentor them through the process.

Drew and Ron spent time talking and praying together this afternoon. Drew spent two of the last three years on a short term experience overseas and is thinking about going back long term. There are decisions to be made, and things to consider. He doesn't know exactly what God's next step for him is, but he is trusting God's leading. And he knows that Ron is there as he walks this journey, available to listen, to mentor, to pray.

We found a nickname

Conversation before dinner:

Ev: "My brother's Jonathan Blewis."
Clare: "No. Jonathan Lew-is. She sometimes says it wrong. Maybe it's too long for her. Ezelyn, you can just say 'Jonathan'."

Conversation after dinner:
Aunt Carrie: "What color are carrots?"
Ev: "Pink!"
Aunt Carrie: "No, carrots!"
Ev: "Orange."
Aunt Carrie: "What color is Jonathan?"
Ev: (Pauses) "Jonathan Blue-ass."
[Aunt Carrie begins to laugh uncontrollably.]

Rest

I've redefined rest today. I came to this conclusion just a few moments ago. Rest isn't not doing anything, it's doing something different.

Today, I'm not grading papers. I'm not writing Annual Report text or editing PBU Today. Today has been a day of rest.

What did I do on my day of rest? Well, I still had to teach, but one class took an exam and in the other I got to talk about the climax of one of my favorite dramas in the world...oh, and worldviews. But then, I went to chapel and sat once again under the Bible teaching of Dr. Master, and remembered why I loved his classes so much. And then, I left PBU.

I went to the Social Security Administration and sat in their waiting room for half an hour before I got called to a counter to submit my application for a new card. Then I went to Target and the bank before driving back to my apt. to gather together the million and three documents needed to transfer my licence to PA. I took off for the Driver's License Center and there waited for only about 10 minutes in the waiting room before they called me to a counter, then sat me down again, then called me to another, took my photo, and sent me off with a temporary PA license.

On my way home I stopped by the library and switched out the CDs of The Witch of Blackbird Pond for the audio Fever 1793, jumping forward in history about a hundred years in the process. Then, before 3 PM I sat down upon my bed and spread out bills to pay and numbers to crunch and organized my finances for the next few months. Following that, I got a few quotes on car insurance and made a decision, paid for six months what I used to pay for two, and then checked email.

Email led me here, to the blogs of family and friends, reading, thinking, processing, resting.

Looking at the list above I don't think I should feel rested, but I do. In the back of my mind, I know that there are still 40 papers, 19 exams, and 16 blogs to grade. In the back of my mind, I'm concerned that I don't have the third student profile written for the Annual Report, and that I still haven't gotten text from two authors for PBU Today. In the back of my mind those things remain, but for today, they're staying in the back of my mind.

And that's rest. After weeks on end of constant focus, always processing, always thinking, always figuring how I'm going to get this and that done, I took a break from it--and rested.

Tomorrow the break will continue. I'll grade a bit on the airplane early in the morning, but the majority of the day will be spent in a cozy kitchen with apples simmering in stock pots on the stove. I'll crank the handle of the sauce-making thingy; I'll stir the apples with a wooden spoon. But I won't worry about the PBU Today; I won't concern myself with the papers and blogs. They can wait for Monday.

The Tribe

At some moment last night, I looked at the mass of small children on the floor before me, laying, crawling, toddling, walking in a great conglomeration of arms and legs, heads and bodies, and had a vision of the future.

In twelve years, the youngest there will have just passed that year marker. There will be two thirteen-year-olds, two fourteen-year-olds, and a sixteen-year-old. Add in the other cousins from the rest of the tribe and there will be another at thirteen and an eighteen-year-old in the bunch.

The boys that now climb all over each other, squeaking out shouts of glee and pain in toddler-sized voices, will wrestle on the floor, their voices cracking between high and low notes. The girls, who now giggle and push dolly around in a stroller, will still giggle, but will be more likely to be kicking a soccer ball around in the back yard. Chubby little calves will have elongated into skinny legs. Dimpled knees will be nobby. Tiny paws will have grown into strong hands.

A part of me hopes they remain friends like they are right now. Remarkably, for a tribe made up of families who spent the past thirty-five years traversing continents on the other side of the world, these cousins have all landed in the same place for a time: seven kids spanning four years who see each other more than once a week. If the families stay where they are, they'll attend the same schools or church youth groups.

But I know this tribe; those traversed continents make for itchy feet. Already, some cousins have moved away, and these that remain may well travel the world as well. However, they'll congregate with some regularity, perhaps at holidays, or in the cool of a Michigan summer evening like last night.

Two families joined years ago and formed a tribe - it's grown since, with additions through marriage and birth, but remained joined. The crew of kiddos crawling over rocking horses and sharing dollies today will not lose their bonds. Blood, tears, joy, pain, and love join them.

A Quoteable Week

Home for the birth of Jonathan Lewis Warnemuende, who made his arrival a few days late at 9:56 am, Monday, August 10, 2009, weighing in at 9 lbs. 11 oz., and 21.5 inches long, I've realized once again how quoteable my family can be. Here's a few choice notes from the week so far.

In a discussion about various family members' names -
Aunt Carrie: "Ev, what's your middle name?"
Evelyn: "My middle name's not here, it's in the car."

As we waited impatiently for Baby Button to be born -
Kraig: "This kid's going to have to be named 'Spot,' as in 'Out, out, damned...'."

Upon meeting Jonathan for the first time -
Clare: "He's not in baby-land anymore!"

Talking about her 1-year-old cousin -
Evelyn: "I like Zachary. He's nice."

Upon meeting her brother -
Poppa: "Clare, what's your new brother's name?"
Clare: "C. S. Lewis."

Sitting at the breakfast table, pointing to her bent-over middle finger -
Evelyn: "Stay down! Stay down!"

Telling us about staying the night with Grandma and Grandpa W. -
Clare: "And we played Little House on the Prairie and I was Laura and Evvie was Mary. Grandpa said we should play Big House in the Suburbs."
(Then she wondered why we all started laughing)

The Comfort of the Familiar

It was a few years ago that I had the realization - my entire being would relax when I heard Tagalog. It was something I'm sure I'd experienced prior to the realization, but it hit me one day that though I couldn't understand what was being said, my mind just let the words and intonations roll over it without struggle or effort.

I've since concluded that the reason for that response is based in my childhood and before. My mom was pregnant with me in the Philippines, and when we returned to the States we made lots of Filipino friends. Much of my early childhood took place surrounded by commingled Tagalog and English, and it's comfortable.

Once or twice in my life that sort of realization has hit me in other ways: when I'm surrounded by Chinese, I forget my skin color and height and think I look like them. When I enter an Asian market my mind knows exactly where to look for the products most Americans wouldn't ever think to buy.

The other week I was at the Willow Grove Walmart and an Indian family passed me in the aisle, the boy in the cart chattering away in Hindi, the parents discussing whether or not to buy this and that, their voices mingling with their son's, the tones skimming up and down scales in ways that English never does. And I closed my eyes for a moment to enjoy the sound, and felt my mind relax, without even wondering why.

Today I went to the library in my hometown. In the space of five minutes I passed four Indian families and scanned a shelf of DVDs with 3 in Hindi and 2 in Punjabi. And I suddenly realized that the faces and languages of a country I've never set foot in have become familiar comforts. When I find them in another place, I think of home.

What's home? The familiar. To me the familiar is a mix of countries and cultures. When I see those faces, hear those languages: I'm home.