GodandMe2theMax

Welcome to GodandMe2theMax!

Play Site Theme Song "Enough"

 "God, how do I be a better mom?"  His answer, "Love Me more.”  No, it wasn't an audible voice.  But for me, God's answer was just as clear.  I didn’t know what that meant at the time, but I knew I needed to start pursuing Him more.  This blog is a collection of how God has been speaking to me.  My goal?  To know Him more…to love Him to the max.  The more I love Him, the better mom I will be…the better wife I will be...the better me I will be.  The task is clear, carrying it out more difficult.  My eyes are focussed on the goal:  God and Me to the Max.

“And to know the love of Christ, which surpasses all knowledge, that I will be filled with the fullness of God.”    Ephesians 3:19 

Elderly Observations

Today, I witnessed something special, but I almost missed it.

I was in my air conditioned car, waiting outside the eye doctor’s office for my mom to come out. She had texted that she was almost done, so I pulled right up in front of the stairs. Subconsciously, I noticed two elderly people exit the office. It took a few moments for my mind to catch up with my eyes and register what was happening.

Both individuals were slow-moving and walked with a cane. The Mrs. had quite a few bandages on her face, as if she had recently taken a tumble. The older gentleman was slowly trying to navigate his way down the stairs, as was the Mrs. Then he looked up to make sure his bride also was safely on her way down. Unfortunately, she was stuck way up at the top of the stairs, so he began to shuffle his way back up to help her. He reconnected with his wife and was trying to somehow assist her down the stairs without himself falling when my mind finally kicked into gear and registered what was happening in front of me.

While the site was a sweet one, it was clearly an accident waiting to happen. I jumped out of the car, telling them to let me help them out. The Mrs. clearly needed a steady strong arm to hold on to, and trust me, that wasn’t the Mr’s. arm, it was mine. Then I encouraged the Mr. to focus on getting himself back down the stairs and over to their car.

They were so thankful for my help, and really, I was embarrassed for not noticing the need sooner. Making small-talk as we very slowly (emphasis on the very slowly) walked to their car, I asked them how long they’d been married. With a smile, the Mrs. looked over to her Mr. for the answer, to which he replied, “69 years!” (I’m pretty sure she wasn’t sure of the exact number of years, but she was sure that her Knight in Shining Armour would know!)

69 YEARS! WOW!

I congratulated them both and said that it was an incredible accomplishment to make it to 69 years! I then said my husband and I have been married 31 years, but WOW - they had more than doubled our number of years being wed! As the gentleman opened the car door, I told him I would help his wife get in on the passenger side. He thanked me again as he started toward the drivers side.

But then he stopped. He didn’t just stop, he backtracked and almost politely pushed me out of the way so he could help his Mrs. get into the passenger’s seat of the car. I just slowly backed away. My job there was done, and the Mr. was clearly in charge and taking over.

The reason was very clear to me.

You see, while I was helping the sweet Mrs., I had noticed that she had completely soiled her clothes during the doctor’s visit. I felt bad for her, but of course I wasn’t going to say anything. I just wanted to make sure she got to her car safely without any tumbles.

But the Mr., well I believe he cut me off and took over getting the Mrs. into the car because he too saw the soiled clothing. It was clear to me that as best as he could, he was trying to protect her from any embarrassment.

I witnessed a rare sight today, friends. This man cherished his wife dearly. It was so evident in his every move and how he smiled at her, frail as they both were.

In reflection, it caused me to take time and thank God for my dear Mr. If by God's grace we make it to 69 years of marriage, I know it will be him helping me down the stairs, taking care of my needs before his own. It will be him trying to help me avoid any embarrassments caused by old age. (Hopefully it will not be the same kind of embarrassments, though!) It will be my Mr. cherishing me, much like I witnessed the Mr. and Mrs. today.

No, we aren’t even half way to the marriage milestone that this couple experienced. But today I thank God that I already know how it will be when we get older because my Mr. already actively loves and cherishes me each day. I realize that it very well could be me helping him after 69 years of marriage, but this one thing I know: if God allows, we will make it to 69 years of marriage bliss. Much like the sweet old Mr. and Mrs. that I observed today. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, and in sickness and in health.

Thank you, God!

Open Hands, not Clenched Fists

This summer, God has impressed on me two areas to focus on:

1) Live life with open hands, not clenched fists (after studying the story of the Good Samaritan)
2) SEE people (after studying both the Good Samaritan & the story of Zacchaeus - Jesus SAW Zacchaeus up in that tree!)

Now, I have always been a "giver." ...But if I were honest with myself in the mirror, I do like my "things," too. I mean, I don't think I'm full-blown materialistic, but God has repeatedly reminded me that the blessings I enjoy are because of His goodness, not anything I can take responsibility for. And He has very clearly shown me that it's the object of my affection that is most important, meaning HE should be the object of my affection, not my things.

There is a point to this. I promise.

A few weeks ago, some of my former co-workers and I got together for lunch. As I got ready, I picked out my jewelry, deciding to wear one of my favorite rings. Now this was not just a regular ring; no, this one was unique. You see, it was reversible, with a white gemstone on one side and a gray one on the other. During lunch, my friend Angela complemented me on it and asked if she could see the ring up-close. As the proud owner, I gladly obliged. I showed her how it's reversible. She put it on her finger, and it fit like a charm. She admired it for a while, flashing her hand around, then gave it back.

As we were saying our goodbyes in the parking lot, I realized I better go to the bathroom before the trek home. And there, my friends, in the handicap stall of Saltgrass Steakhouse in Grapevine, Texas, is where God had a conversation with me. Loud and clear.

(God) "Why didn't you give Angela that ring? I told you to live with open hands, not clenched fists."

(Me, caught by surprise) "I didn't even think of it, God. I'm sorry."

(Me to myself) “Why didn’t I think of that! Did God really tell me, and I wasn’t listening?”

(God) "It's not too late."

(Me) "But everyone is gone. We already said our goodbyes, and are You sure? This is one of my favorites."

(God) "When will you ever learn? You need to be listening for my voice better. LISTEN TO ME, not your flesh! And like I said, it’s not too late."

(Me) "OK, God. I really am sorry! If they are still in the parking lot when I’m done, I'll go give it to her."

I finished up my business in the bathroom, but little did I know that my conversation with God wasn't completely over. Let’s just say it was on pause.

Lo and behold, the friends I already hugged goodbye were still in the parking lot, chatting away. (Big surprise, huh?)

There was no question in my mind about what I was supposed to do. The message from God was as clear as an audible voice, but my flesh apparently had to verify God’s will by confirming with Angela if the ring really did fit her! (I believe, Lord, help my unbelief!)

When she said it really did, I then gave her the ring. She tried to refuse, and I insisted that she take it. I think there was a little tear in her eye, but I'm not sure. All I know is that at that moment, I know God used me to bless her, and it felt good.

But remember that paused conversation with God? Well, it continued on the way home...

(Me) "I wonder if I can find another one of those rings..."

(God) "I can hear you, you know."

(Me, ignoring that still, small voice) "Maybe my mom can find one when she goes to volunteer." (You see, Premier went out of business and donated a large amount of inventory to some non-profits. My mom helps them sort a lot of that inventory.)

(God) That’s not obedience. I told you to give with open hands. If you go try to replace that ring, you might as well have a clenched fist! That's not what giving with open hands looks like to me. What about you?"

(Me) (Silence)

I replayed that conversation, and I knew God was right. I immediately was remorseful. Not because I gave Angela the ring, but because I knew that God rubbed a sore spot. I confessed to Him my focus on material things instead of obeying Him. And in typical God-fashion, He immediately replaced that desire to get another ring with overflowing joy about being able to make Angela's day.

And I've not even thought about Angela's ring again.

Not until today.

This morning my mom came over to tell me she had a surprise for me. While my mom was volunteering yesterday, she stumbled across something she thought I would like. Yes, you guessed it. It was a ring, exactly like Angela’s ring. And it actually fit!

I stand in awe of God’s goodness. I don’t understand it, and I definitely don’t deserve it. But that’s the cool thing about God. He loves me unconditionally, and when I least expect it, He reminds me just how good and giving He is. After all, He is good God Almighty, right?

Good God Almighty (David Crowder)

Good God Almighty, I hope You’ll find me
Praising Your name no matter what comes!
Cause I know where I’d be, without Your mercy
So I keep praising Your name at the top of my lungs.

Tell me, is He good? (He’s good!)
Tell me, is He God? (He’s God!)
He is good God Almighty!

Praise Him in the morning. Praise Him in the noontime. Praise Him when the sun goes down.
Praise Him in the morning. Praise Him in the noontime. Praise Him when the sun goes down.

He is good God Almighty!

 

 

[email protected]
www.GodandMe2theMax.com

 

 

Every good and perfect gift, even COVID and 2020

For many, 2020 is the year that was. For me, it was a year of blessings, so many that I cannot help but publicly praise God for all that He did.

2020 marked my 29^th year in the travel industry. My job has been very stressful for many years, and toward the middle of 2019, I was praying God would provide a way of escape for me. In November of 2019, I was promoted to be in charge of training for all of North America for Key Travel. I thought that was how God was answering my prayers for a way of escape, but little did I know what God had planned on the horizon. How little did we all know what 2020 would hold.

COVID devastated the travel industry, perhaps like no other industry. April 10^th was my last day with Key Travel, and God allowed me to exit with maximum severance offered. Two weeks later, nearly all the rest of the operations staff in the US was let go, with virtually no severance. While I certainly never expected to leave my position at Key Travel without having another one lined up, God had other plans. 

I’m here to testify that when things don’t go the way we plan or expect, we need to remember that God’s plans are always so much better than ours. Always.

After being rejected for a job at AAA, with the rejection letter saying I wasn’t qualified (even though the job was doing the exact same as my first management job with AAA), I realized it was because I had never finished my Bachelors degree. Had the COVID domino not fallen over on the travel industry, I never would have been motivated to complete my degree. Yet, in just over 4 months, by God’s grace, I completed 29 credit hours and received my Bachelors of Science in Interdisciplinary Studies (focus areas of Education and Business) from Liberty University – exactly 30 years after I withdrew after my junior year.

And of course, commencement was cancelled at Liberty University due to COVID, but that didn't stop us from celebrating. I planned a full commencement ceremony, including all the fanfare, with Dr. Frank Banfill bringing the commencement address. It truly was one of the happiest days of my life. Only God could bring such joy because of the COVID domino.

My final capstone class for my degree also birthed an idea for a future business. The details of that idea are still "percolating" -- stay tuned. But again, had the COVID domino not hit, we would never even be discussing it as an option. 

In July, Frank decided we needed to get away. I fought it. Big time. I was buried in my final Capstone class, and it was extremely time-demanding. Besides, who travels on an international vacation right in the middle of a pandemic? Well, the Banfills did, and it was amazing. Jamaica had very few cases, and Frank felt strongly that we should plan to go -- in faith -- knowing the booking allowed us to re-schedule without penalty. We have no regrets; it was truly one of the best trips of our life!

God provided a “deserted beach vacation” in the middle of a global pandemic. It was a much-needed blessing, and I believe we were safer on that deserted beach than if we stayed at home! Our entire plane had to produce negative COVID tests, and once we arrived, the Jamaican government made us all re-take the COVID tests. Who would have thought that the COVID domino could bring such joy, but it did…in abundance!

 

To say the beach was deserted is an understatement.

The COVID domino also hit KiDs Beach Club, where Frank is the VP of Strategy and Growth. Last year, they had over 300 schools across the nation who partnered with them, holding Beach Clubs in public schools. In 2020, that number dropped to about 7, thanks to COVID. KBC didn’t let COVID stop them from pursuing what God called them to do, and when kids could no longer come to Beach Club at their local school, KBC made the decision to bring Beach Club to them – in their homes. Thus, the “Beach Club at Home” concept was birthed: create 30-minute professionally produced “Beach Club at Home” tv-quality episodes that mirror the elements found in the live Beach Clubs. It was all happening very fast, with no money budgeted to make it happen. But God knew that the COVID domino was going to hit, and He miraculously prepared the generous hearts of donors to give BIG. The first 6 episodes of “Beach Club at Home” were launched, providing a way for kids to interact and experience what was no longer possible within their local schools.

However, the original production company decided to topple their own domino; for KBC, it initially looked devastating. The production company said they could no longer write and produce the remaining 15 needed episodes and basically said what KiDs Beach Club was asking was impossible. Looking back, I’m reminded of Matthew 19:26 for sure!

Frank spearheaded the “Beach Club at Home” project, and I will never forget the look on his face as he told me what the original production company said. In case you don't know him, you should know that Frank is a leader that is not easily discouraged. Yet that afternoon, he really was distressed, trying to understand how God wanted KBC to move forward after hitting such a concrete wall. Trying to brainstorm with him, I told him I could write the remaining 15 episodes. I really threw that out there only to try to show him there were options. It was a grasp at straws of desperation. In nearly 30 years of marriage, I so rarely have seen him even close to discouraged, and I had to do something!

I’ll be honest. I really didn’t think that domino would fall in the direction I suggested. I kind of "thought" I could write the episodes, but the doubt-meter definitely swayed more on the “NO” side of the pendulum. And it was definitely a lot harder than I thought! But, KBC needed a writer, and nothing else was materializing.

We decided for me to write my first screenplay and submit it to the KiDs Beach Club president anonymously. This would avoid embarrassment for me, had he not liked what I created, and it would avoid apparent conflict of interest for Frank. That’s when the original production company’s domino intersected with mine. Jack Terrell, the KBC founder and president LOVED what I had created. He didn’t know I had it in me, and to be honest, I didn’t either. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that God would provide for KiDs Beach Club while simultaneously providing for our financial needs in 2020 by having me write and sell 15 original screenplays! God worked out all the rest of the details for a new production company, CRM Studios. Most of the filming for all the episodes is now complete and in post-production. Only God could orchestrate what has taken place!  He crumbled the financial mountains for KiDs Beach Club to make this happen, and somehow, all my crazy ideas for the scripts came to life.

KiDs Beach Club at Home
(Episodes 1-6 were done by the original production company, and I wrote the remaining episodes. More will be added in February)

 

The COVID domino also tumbled over our health, with both Frank and I contracting COVID. His case was much worse than mine, developing double pneumonia, a blood clot in his lung, and spending 5 days in the hospital. My doctor said he is lucky to be alive, but we know luck has nothing to do with it. The fact that he is alive is 100% God. Perhaps even more miraculous, He spared my 80-year old mother (who lives with us), keeping her from catching it.

In 2020, I learned it's ok to not be ok. (Taken from my favorite song of the year: by Matthew West, Truth Be Told)
In 2020, I learned that it’s ok to not be constantly busy.
In 2020, I realized that I had let WORK snatch me from the things that really mattered. Losing my job was an incredible blessing.
In 2020, I saw God provide for our family in miraculous ways.
In 2020, I re-discovered my love for creativity that had been stolen by my stress-filled job (whether through writing or creating "masterpieces" like the tree picture below (term used loosely) or the table trivets I started making as gifts. And who knows, maybe I'll start really blogging again.

And on the last day of 2020, I read the words that for 13 years running, I still do not take for granted: “Cancer markers undetectable.”

Yes, 2020 was good to me. I'm actually kind of sad to see it go, because I don't know how 2021 could top it! Sure, like many others, I could dwell on the negative domino effect and bring in the new year thanking God it’s over. But the TRUTH BE TOLD, I’m a much happier version of “me” going into 2021 than I was going into 2020.

I praise God for every good and perfect gift, including COVID and 2020.

 

-- Beth Banfill
[email protected]

 

 

"The Whidbey Island Covenant"

 “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or pride,
but let us each put the needs of others over our own needs and desires.”
Philippians 2:3 

 

Over the last quarter of 2016, God was stirring in my heart the need to focus on my marriage.  Let it be known that we were not / are not struggling.  In fact, after almost 26 years, I would dare say we are just as strong and close as ever!  But with so many marriages turning into failed statistics, I had this burning desire to find ways to protect my marriage, to guard it, and to find ways to love and honor my husband in a deeper way.  I wanted desperately to take measures to ensure our marriage endures the test of time. 

You see, in 2017, we will officially become empty-nesters.  Amber will be graduating from college and likely moving to North Carolina.  Jacob will graduate from high school, move out, and start college.  It will be just the two of us around here, day in and day out.  I’ve heard that one of the highest divorce rates take place when the kids are raised and move out of the house.  The parents no longer find that they have anything in common, because the ‘kids’ were the common bond.  With us moving into that phase of life, I wanted to be sure that statistic didn’t hit our home.

So as my thoughts intensified about our marriage, I began to scheme about Frank’s Christmas gift.  Frank is a minimalizer.  He doesn’t like me to spend money on him, and he doesn’t even like to exchange cards.  But I knew just what to do for his Christmas gift... 

We spent Christmas on Whidbey Island with family, off the coast of Puget Sound in the state of Washington.  On Christmas morning, for whatever reason, the kids didn’t come down to breakfast with us at the hotel.  It was just the two of us, and it was the perfect time to share with him about my “gift” for him.  So I poured out my heart about wanting to focus on our marriage in the coming year, and together we made what we called “The Whidbey Island Covenant”:  to proclaim 2017 “The Year of our Marriage.”  I won’t go into all the details of that covenant, but one of them was to plan at least one event each quarter to focus on strengthening our marriage.  And we have just completed the first of those weekends!

Frank did tons of research to find an affordable and applicable “marriage retreat” for us.  When he was pastoring in Ohio, we used to teach an incredible course on Marriage Intimacy; in fact, we even led marriage retreats.  So we didn’t want to pay a lot of money to go hear someone speak on “marriage fluff”.  (By that, I mean principles that we already have in place and practice regularly,…“common knowledge” principles of marriage.)  Instead, we wanted to find something that would be “just what we needed”.  And that is exactly what he found!

Whether you think you need to re-focus your marriage or not, I strongly recommend you consider this exact thing.  It doesn’t have to be fancy.  We went to a local hotel, only because we were able to get a really great travel agent rate.  You can plan something like this without going anywhere.  (Quite honestly, I would have preferred my temperpedic over a lumpy hotel bed!)  We had dinner out on Friday and watched a movie.  Then on Saturday morning, we downloaded a series from Family Life called “I Still Do.”  It consisted of four 45 minute sessions by top-notch speakers.  The download was only about $20, and it even came with discussion questions for each section.  We mixed up the weekend with eating out, shopping, playing games, watching the videos & doing the discussion questions.  Overall, it was an incredible weekend of renewing our commitment to love each other for better or worse.  (I highly recommend this series from Family Life!  Just click on the I Still Do to learn more!)

I Corinthians 10:12 warns “Therefore, let anyone who thinks he stands take heed, lest he fall.”  You see, I’m not sharing this because I want everyone to know how strong my marriage is or how awesome my spouse is.  The moment we think our marriage is on solid ground is the moment the enemy attacks.  And the enemy, well he uses some pretty sneaky things to divide marriages.  He uses the lust of the eyes and the pride of life.  He uses our own children to divide us.  He finds ways to have us blame our spouses for anything and everything.  But the one thing I took away from the weekend, the one thing that is solidified even more in my mind is that marriages do not crumble when both spouses have a right relationship with God.  A right relationship with God not only means putting Him first, but it also means not having yourself as the top ranking officer.  Living a self-less life is not easy.  It’s a daily struggle and decision to place “him” (my spouse) as more of a priority than “me”.  It’s a daily choice to decide that I don’t have to be “right”; I don’t have to “win”, and I don’t have to have my way.

No, I don’t share this to brag in any way, shape, or form.  I share this because too often, I hear of friends who have separated.  Friends who are getting divorced.  Irreconcilable differences.  Affairs.  Pornography destroying marriages.  Secret lives.  One spouse left as the victim of the other pursuing their selfish desires.  It breaks my heart to hear of another marriage broken.

In the opening session from “I STILL DO”, Pastor Alistair Begg shared a story that is often repeated during the marriage counseling sessions he conducts.  It goes something like this:  One spouse is complaining about the other, saying she doesn’t do this anymore, and she does that, and I mean, just look at her! – …and she doesn’t support me, and …(insert your own gripe about your spouse.)

Then Pastor Begg will say, “So you’re telling me it’s worse?” 

To which the spouse replies, “YES!”  It’s worse!  So much worse!

And Pastor Begg, in his awesome Scottish accent simply says, “Well, isn’t that what you signed up for?  For better or worse?” 

(Insert time standing still while you chew on the reality of that comment!)

Regardless of your personal faith, I would venture to say if you are married or have been married in the past, you said your marriage vows in the presence of witnesses and before God.  We promised to stick with our spouse for better or worse. 

One day, it will turn “worse”.  It is inevitable.  We get older; we get plumper; we are just not as attractive as we once were.  Our spouse hurts us.  We have financial issues.  Our kids have special needs.  Life is just stinkin’ hard, and it’s easier to take the frustrations of life out on our spouse than it is to figure out a way to work through the problems.

But you know what?  Yes, there will be a day when “worse” will come.  But “better” can be just around the corner.  Just because it’s “worse” now doesn’t mean it will stay that way or progress further downhill.  We promised to love selflessly, through the good & bad; sickness & in health, as long as we are alive. 

I probably wrote down 50 different Bible verses this week for practical living in my marriage.  But the one that sticks with me…the one that I believe is really key to success in marriage is Philippians 2:3:  “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or pride, but let us each put the needs of others over our own needs and desires.”  This weekend was such a good reminder of how easy it is to put myself first and how important it is to make sure that doesn't happen.

I close with this final thing…
A few years ago, after hearing of yet another casualty in our church, my friend Jennifer Davis & I wrote the song below.  May we never consider our marriages disposable, and may we always choose to fight for our family; selflessly; putting others before ourselves.

Verse One
One by one, they're falling apart.
Marriages ending.  Broken hearts.
They made it this long for the kids.
But they're all grown, so it's time to quit.
They promised to love through thick and thin
But somehow the outlook changed to grim.
It's over.  There's no love anymore.
Pack your bags.  There's the door.

Chorus
You've got to fight for your family.
Quit fighting for yourself.
Selfless living.  Be forgiving.
Don't you know true love is never ending?
It's time to take a stand.
And fight with all your might...for your family.

Verse Two
He picked up the phone but just couldn’t dial.
She sat there wishing they could talk for a while.
Regret sank in as time slipped by.
Was he too late?  Was it really goodbye?
He knew he’d been selfish.  It was time to admit
All the ways he’d hurt her before calling it quits.
“Can we meet tonight?” he cried on the phone
“God’s been working on me.  I want to come home.”

Tag
We live our lives throwing daggers and knives
Disposable husbands.  Disposable wives.
But imagine the changes that God will do
If others are considered better than you.

Chorus
You've got to fight for your family.
Quit fighting for yourself.
Selfless Living.  Be forgiving.
Don't you know true love is never ending?
It's time to take a stand.
And fight with all your might...for your family.

 

Pray with me, will you?  Pray for the families you know that are struggling?  Pray they won't give up?  Fight for them in your very own war room / prayer room.  If you are struggling, please tell me.  I want to pray for you.  Don't give up when it's "worse"...it can get better, but it takes two people putting God first to make it happen.  "Above all else, guard your heart, for it determines the course of your life."  Proverbs 4:23

 

 

-- Beth Banfill
www.GodandMe2theMax.com

 

I’m cuckoo for…

“…so that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please Him in every way;
bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God.”  --Colossians 1:10  

On the outside looking in, just about anyone would describe me as a workaholic.  In truth, that is not me at all – I’m really quite lazy and would prefer to not invest so many hours into my job.  The problem is that I have an equally competing voice in my lazy head that tells me I can give nothing less than my best, whether to my employer or whatever project I’m working on.  It’s this strong work ethic and strive for excellence that makes me work the crazy hours that I do, and it’s this same work ethic that seems to get my work-life balance out of whack repeatedly. 

Every few years, the Lord hits me upside my hard head to remind me that my calling is first and foremost as a wife and mom.  It’s why we sold our company 9 years ago, and most recently, He clearly showed me that I better make some immediate adjustments once again.  It was very clear that my family was getting only the fumes left in my tank, and my priorities were not where God wanted them to be.  (I'm proud to say that so far, so good...successful implementation of those changes and less hours are being worked!)

I used the time in Tanzania to gain a new perspective and try to retain special memories with my children and husband.  This is yet another one of those memories, written from the perspective of my true calling – a mom.  Perhaps only mothers who can act ridiculously crazy without reserve will really understand the details below, but I’ll do my best to explain how it all went down.  All I know is that I must live my life in a manner worthy of my calling, and my actions must be consistent to reflect the love of Jesus within me.

It was our last day of ministry, and as mentioned in the last blog entry, I was teamed up with Jacob & Amber for the day, my own two children.  Our guide and translator Willfred led us up the mountain to our first stop in Kubiterere.  Willfred worked to gather together anyone who would listen.  Adults & children started to circle around, and I randomly snapped the below picture of others making their way toward us.  

Little did I know that the little guy in the orange shirt would make such a great impact on me. 

In total, we had about 15 kids and quite a few adults who sat and listened as I shared the gospel.  After I shared, Amber presented the Evangecube, and by the time we were done, nearly every adult and some of the older children within earshot had made a decision to put their faith in Christ.

As Amber shared, I looked at the children.  One by one, I made eye contact with them, trying to get a little smile out of each one.  Two of them, Sabena & Joseph, were determined to remain solemn.  I don’t know if Joseph was afraid or just shy, but try as I might, this momma couldn’t get him to understand that I offered only unconditional love, nothing more.  His Mr. Tough-Guy façade stayed for the duration of my time there.

The little guy in the orange striped shirt is Joseph, aka Mr. Tough Guy. I never could get him to crack a smile, not even once.

As the people went back to their daily work and the children dispersed, one of the adults proudly asked if he could show Amber & Jacob where he lived.  Willfred gave me a nod that it was ok, and off Jacob & Amber went.  I stayed behind with the specific intent to win over the one remaining tough guy.

Meet Sabena.

I snapped this picture without him knowing it.  The minute he saw my camera, the tough-guy face re-appeared.

He kept his distance, and no matter how hard I tried to get a little grin from his round face, success did not seem to be in the cards. 

Enter on the scene a little girl named Rachel. 

She was fearless, full of precious smiles, and little did she know that she would be my pivotal partner in winning over Sabena. 
Rachel let me take her picture and waited anxiously to see the image pop up on the screen of my camera. 

She started climbing on me and let me hold her.  Eventually, she landed right on my lap. 

Her lack of fear drew Sabena over a little closer and closer, until he eventually seemed comfortable standing next to me…but still no smile.

I knew there was a smile inside dying to get out, but Sabena was determined to stifle it.  You can ask either of my kids, I’m a pretty strong-willed momma who likes a challenge.  If Sabena was going to be a pickle, then I wasn’t leaving until I had successfully taken the vinegar out of the pickle.

I’m not sure how long Amber & Jacob were gone, maybe about 15 minutes.  However long it was, it was too quick, because they were back with me before I was ready for them to be back.  I knew that their return meant that we needed to move on to the next hut.  And Sabena had not even cracked a smile. 

It was time to go, and in my heart of hearts, this little boy was only still hanging around us because he longed to be loved-on, the way I was hugging on Rachel.  I held up my hand as if to ask for a few more minutes of precious time with these children.  I believed that I was close to a breakthrough with Sabena.  I think Amber could sense the special moment building, too.  Providentially, she grabbed my camera and began snapping pictures – pictures worth more than 1000 words to me. 

My gut tells me Sabena had never seen a white person (mzungu) before, let alone one as scary-looking as me. 

As I continued to pour out love on Sabena, the magic of tickling took over.  He finally dropped his guard, allowing Mr. Tough Guy to vanish and the child within to emerge.  He let me pick him up, and he started to drop the walls he had built up.  

Trust began to build as he eventually made his way into the half of my lap that Rachel did not occupy.

Admittedly, I acted crazy. 

I was a total goofball as together the three of us laughed incessantly. 

I found myself reaching over to kiss Sabena's forehead.  It wasn't planned; it just happened, because that's what moms do. They kiss the children they love.  Somehow in such a short time, a special bond had formed between us, and in that instant, I loved Rachel & Sabena as if they were my own children!  

I had known their names only a short time, yet my heart was overflowing with so much love that I would
swear under oath that they were my own flesh and blood.  It was a priceless memory.  

Against my wishes, I knew my time with these precious children was over, and we had to move on to the next hut to share the Gospel.  If it were up to me, I might still be on the top of the mountain with Rachel & Sabena in my arms.  I walked away trying to fight the tears of the experience.  

Even as I write, the memories can be described as nothing more than a momma’s pure joy.  Jacob, on the other hand, described it as something else. 

As we walked away, he began to tell me that I acted inappropriately.  You see, being the youngest, he’s really never seen his mom love on children that weren’t my own flesh and blood.  I tried to tell Jacob that I couldn't help it; it was the momma in me that took over.  Apparently, though, Jacob wasn’t done lecturing me.  “Mom,” he said, “I don’t think Dad would have acted like that.  You can’t blame it on being a parent.”  I agreed with him, for sure; Frank would never have acted the way I did.  It’s not in his Ph.D. reserved nature or DNA.  But me, I don’t have that degree, I only have my MOM degree.  I’m just a mom who loves children, so I vehemently defended my actions with my son. 

In Jacob’s defense, he really was not trying to steal my joy; he was simply trying to shed light on how foolishly I had behaved.  That’s my Jacob: I can always count on him to share his perspective with raw honesty, without reserve.  For sure, he did just that.

Therefore, he was not yet finished with the critique of my behavior. 

“Mom, you were completely cuckoo.  Totally cuckoo, mom.  It was really bad & embarrassing, mom.  I mean, you were completely crazy.”  (Insert his imitation of me goofing around with the kids and don't forget to include a high pitched unintelligible voice.) 

As he searched for the words to further describe my inappropriate behavior, I cut him off and told him, “Yes, Jacob, I know.  I get it.  I'm guilty, I am.  I’m cuckoo.  I’m just cuckoo for kids.  That’s what a mom does; it’s part of my nature; and I can’t help it.” 

And about as quickly as I said that I was cuckoo for kids, both of us simultaneously added, “Cuckoo for cocoa kids.” 

Yeah.  Let that one sink in for a moment.

A few seconds passed before any of us realized exactly what we said when alluding to the well-known Cocoa Puffs slogan. 

The three of us stopped and laughed uncontrollably while our Tanzanian partners looked at us with bewilderment.  Even with their grasp of the English language, I don’t think they could ever imagine what exactly was going on or what was said. 

It was the perfect ending to that perfect memory.  It was also a perfect example of Proverbs 17:22, “A merry heart does good like a medicine.”  God knew my heart needed that massive belly laugh to get through the moment.

As I’ve tried to detail my story about Rachel & Sabena on the mountain, I can’t help but think of the spiritual applications of each person in the story. 

Mr. Tough guy Joseph went away, never knowing what it was like to open his heart to a stranger and trust them.  I pray that he will one day know what it’s like to trust Jesus as his best friend.

Rachel allowed herself to be vulnerable, not letting fear of the unknown grip her.  Because of it, she was influential in helping her friend experience love.  Granted, I’m not God by any means, but I hope that those two children will have a memory of when the mzungu woman came to their village to show God’s love.  I pray that I was an expression of Him.

And Sabena…he overcame his fear, dropped his guard, and experienced something new.  If nothing else, I hope he learned to fear a little less and trust a little more.  (I think he definitely learned that tickles and laughter are good for the soul, too!)

I don’t know what memories Rachel & Sabena will retain from the time in my lap on the mountain, but I know that these two impacted me pretty deeply. 

And me, I’m reminded to be a friend like Rachel.  I’m reminded to persist when I believe God is leading me to (with Sabena), and I’m reminded to give up when He isn’t (Joseph).  I’m reminded that God’s timing is perfect, and finally, I’m reminded to count my blessings, each and every one of them.

It’s also just another reminder to me that my first calling is being a mom.  It’s innate and natural.  I proudly wear the title Mumzy (so given to me by Amber several years ago).  I love the fact that I don’t have to stick with any nice and neat persona in a box just because Jacob wants me to, and it's ok to be cuckoo and crazy when God leads you to do it.   

All I know is that I loved those children in the way that I believed Jesus wanted me to.  I pray that I lived in a manner worthy of my calling.  Finally, I hope I showed my children that it’s ok to be cuckoo, as long as you’re doing it for the right reasons...  Even if it means being cuckoo for cocoa kids.

 

 

-- Beth Banfill
www.GodandMe2theMax.com

No greater joy...

“I have no greater joy than to hear of my children walking in the truth.”
III John 1:4

 

As we prepared to go to Africa, this is the verse that kept running through my head.  In my mind, though, the phrase was “than to see my children walking in truth…I have no greater joy than to SEE THEM walk in truth...”  And from this mom’s perspective, seeing my children live out their faith on foreign soil was a visual image I wanted to invade my memory, never to leave.

You see, in 25 years of marriage and 20 years of having children in our lives, we have never had our entire family of four on the mission field together.  I have been overseas with Frank about 4 times, one of those times with Amber & Frank, 6 other times with just Amber, a bunch of other times without anyone in the family with me, but never have either one of us been able to serve overseas with all four of us.  (And in case you’re not keeping track, that means the missing element has always been Jacob.)  Not only was this trip a dream come true, but we both believed it was a mandate from God to allow Jacob this opportunity before he graduates and moves on in his next phase of life.  We also knew another opportunity like this was quite unlikely, so trust me when I say that I did my best to soak it all in and savor the moments and memories.

Jacob is…well, let’s just say he’s a typical teenager.  He is anxious to conquer the world, but if I try to offer advice along the way, it is too often quickly discarded as irrelevant and unfounded.  Hanging out with mom is something he does only under duress, and I suspect that isn’t going to change until he really lives the hard-knocks life of adulthood.  I believe that one day, he will realize mom is one of his biggest advocates, and I’m clinging to that tenet!  Until then, he remains a typical teenager who tomorrow morning will begin his last “first day of school”. 

I look at him and wonder how that bright eyed, silky haired boy with the big dimples turned into a big-haired mustache wearing almost 18 year old.

Alas, I digress.  Forgive this mom for the reminiscing.

Back to Africa… 

It was our last day of ministry, and in fact, it was our last day before we started our return to Texas.  We were to leave early the next morning, and the one memory I had hoped for had not yet been made:  I had yet to hear Jacob share his faith -- not even once during the entire trip.

Early on in the trip, Frank was able to go out with him; Amber had teamed up with him a few times; and even Dr. Vance, one of our other team members was able to go out with him one day.  But me?  Nope.  Jacob wanted nothing to do with that idea, and in fact, he vetoed the opportunity when it was presented.  Providentially though, on that last day, we were a bit short on translators.  That my friends, was about the best news anyone could have told me.  Not only did we spend the day together, but an added bonus: Amber also joined with us.  (Frank was at East Africa Christian College finishing up the class he was teaching, so I am the sole possessor of this priceless parental memory!)

Our translator Willfred was on a mission, no pun intended.  He knew where he was taking us, and it’s probably good he didn’t tell us ahead of time.  We crossed the road and followed him on an adventure that none of us will forget.

It was clear that the only way to forge this hike was with high steps through the fields. 

Our guide had a brisk pace, and we all had our eyes on the ground, trying to dodge the cattle dung.  We trekked down the side of a cliff-like ravine, crossed the stream, and then we pressed on up, up, up the mountain. 

I lagged behind the others as I tried to snap some pictures to capture this experience.  By the time we stopped at our first home, we weren’t at the ‘top’ of the mountain, but we were definitely a lot closer than I ever thought we’d get!

The above pictures is with full zoom, looking down on where the church is located.  
When I snapped this, we weren't even all the way up the mountainside yet!

 

As I said earlier, our translator was on a mission.  Every step up that mountain was intentional.  Willfred knew exactly where we were going and why:  to tell his friends about the Lord.  We came upon a central area where we were met by some of his friends. 

In Swahili, Willfred explained that we had come to Tanzania to share with them, and together, they went and gathered together all the extended family who were available to listen.  We must have had about 8 adults and 15 kids that finally gathered around – maybe more.  They were all waiting to hear from these strange white people.  (I’m pretty sure some of those children had never seen a white person, but you’ll have to wait until the next blog entry for that story.)

With all the extended mountain family together, it was determined that I should be the one to share with them first.  I shared my testimony of how as a small child, I made the most important decision I could ever have made:  the decision to put my faith and trust in Jesus.  I went on to share the specifics of what the Bible says about becoming a Christian, and Amber then shared the Evangecube with them.  She started out by asking what they knew about a man named Jesus.  Their response: They knew nothing; in fact, they had never even heard His name.  Can you even imagine that?  We live here in the USA where most of us hear the name of Jesus being taken in vain nearly every day.  Yet these people had never even heard the greatest story ever told – the story of Jesus and His unending bountiful love for us!

As Amber shared, they hung on her every word.  Before she even finished, one of the adults interrupted and said, “I want that for me.  How do I get this free gift of salvation for me?”  Wise beyond her years, Amber is ever-so-cautious of leading someone in a prayer without them fully understanding the commitment that it means.  So she finished articulating the Gospel to make sure they fully understood what it meant to put your faith and trust in Christ and accept His free gift of salvation.  Then each family member, along with some of the older children bowed their heads and prayed a simple prayer of forgiveness, confession, and commitment.  

 

The angels rejoiced; this mom did too, because I have no greater joy than to see my children walk in the truth.

The next home we visited was just a little further up the mountain. (We didn't think it was possible, but it was!)

It was a similar scenario as the last hut:  Willfred had us stop in a central area while he gathered up all the extended family so we could share with a max amount of people possible.  At this hut, however, it was Jacob’s turn to share why we came to Tanzania.  He opened up the Evangecube, and as he began to speak, this momma’s heart was about to explode with pride. 

I watched in silence; I listened intently; I pinched myself.  At times, Jacob would struggle to find the right words.  As if they could read each other’s minds, he just had to glance over at his sister, as if to make an invisible “tag” for her to take over.  Then and only then, would she jump in to bridge the words he struggled to find. 

And as soon as the thought was complete, she in turn would invisibly tag him back, allowing him the ability to take the lead in sharing the Gospel.  It happened like that about three times, maybe four.  If telepathic tag-team witnessing was an Olympic event, they would have won the gold medal, hands down. 

Sometimes you wonder if it is really worth it...all the hours you pour into your children trying to "train them up in the way they should go."  You wonder if they really "get it" and if anything you have taught them really sinks deep.  Of course I know it's always worth it, but it was at that moment, as I watched my children lead others to Christ that I said a silent prayer.  I thanked God for allowing me the privilege of witnessing my children share their faith....not my faith, but their own personal faith.  And I thanked God for answering my prayer to see it happen.

There are truly no other words to express the overflow of emotion in my heart when I say, “I have no greater joy than to see my children walking in the truth.”

 

 

-- Beth Banfill
www.GodandMe2theMax.com

 

Anastazia Robi, born in the year of the locust, and my Rafiki for life.

Matthew 25:35-40

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat; I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink; I was a stranger and you invited me in…”  

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ “

 

Kubitierere.  A village marked by incessant tribal warfare with Koritambe, its direct neighbor.  A village known for its members being vengeful and unforgiving.  A village with a deserted church building from years past, due to the pastor being held at spear-point and told to fight or die.  Bloodshed marked the lawn next to the church building, as entire families were killed by spears on their way to church one Sunday.  The pastor and his family fled for their lives.  Innocent people were lost.  And the church that once was thriving dissipated.

Today, things are different.  There are still many vengeful families, and there is much work still to do, but the empty church building no longer exists.  God is at work within this village in a powerful way, and that church now has Christians attending each week and a pastor who is willing to shepherd them. 

It is here in the village of Kubiterere that God gave me my favorite memories from my recent trip to Tanzania.  We worked in three villages while we were there, 2 days in each village.  All of the work remains special in my mind, but over the years, it seems that God always has given me a special blessing of a memory that just “makes” the trip for me.  In this last village of Kubitierere, He did that not once, not twice, but three times.  Three amazing mental images I will never forget.

Today, I write about the first.  Her name is Anastazia Robi.  I don’t know much about her, really, but I can tell you I love her deeply, as if we were old friends.  She had but one child, a son.  Having only one baby in African culture is a stigma, because having many children is looked at as a sign of prosperity.  While Anastazia Robi had only one, her son apparently made up for that barrenness by having 12 offspring.  I also know that she was born in the ‘year of the locust’. My Tanzanian translator told me that he thought that the locust hit Tanzania in 1940, but when I googled it, the year appears to be 1949.  That would put her at only 67 years old, but her leathered hands appear to be so much older.

Our team was originally supposed to host a medical clinic, and we are sure she walked into the church building for that sole purpose.  But God had other plans.  We were on our lunch break when I first laid eyes on her. She was a tiny thing; carried a stick nearly as big as her, and she walked very slowly. 

When I saw her struggling to negotiate the step into the church building, I immediately stood up and grabbed a plastic chair for her to sit down close to the door.  I then pulled up another chair for me, and thus began a sweet rafiki-friendship.

Since it was our lunchbreak, I had no translators nearby to help me know more about this sweet lady that just walked into my life.  So I sat there.  She talked to me.  I conversed back with her.  She pointed at the ceiling of the church, and I responded that yes, I see those cobwebs up there.  She said something else in her native tongue, and I responded that “this is Africa, and I agreed.  I had to learn to not be afraid of spiders.”  The conversation went back and forth like that for quite a while, until one of our translators returned.

I cannot explain to you the feeling of chatting with this sweet woman about two completely different things, all while being 100% unified in spirit with her.  We laughed together, and I knew a bond of friendship was forming.  Even without a translator present, there was one thing evident:  this woman had a serious toothache.  She kept opening her mouth wide so I could take a look.  (Of course I didn't realize until later that the toothache & the original plans for a medical clinic was what brought her into the church building to begin with!)

I just kept telling her that I couldn’t do anything about that toothache she had, and I really didn't even want to see it.  Then I would change the subject to something else and try to be funny.
She seemed to laugh on cue.  I guess this mzungu (white person) intrigued her!  

About 20 minutes of chatting had passed when our gracious hosts from the community marched into the church with several large pots of rice, cabbage, beans, and some beef chunks in broth.  I immediately got up to get her some food, which she of course gladly accepted.  She made it clear that she didn’t want to have anything to do with the cabbage, and it was also apparent that she couldn’t chew that meat, but she gladly accepted a healthy portion of everything else.  

Since the government had put a nix on our plans for the medical clinic, the only thing I could offer her for the toothache was a Tylenol, which she gladly accepted.  

Soon afterward, we began to dialogue; thankfully, this time with the use of a translator.

I then had my translator ask if I could take her picture so that I could remember my new ‘rafiki’ (friend).  She told me, “No, because if you take my picture, it won’t be fair because I don’t have a picture of you.”  Now that was not the response I was expecting, but God interceded in really a miraculous way.  For the first time that I can ever remember happening, one of our team members brought with her a Polaroid camera!  The rest of the team had noticed my ongoing chatting with Anastazia Robi, and without missing a beat, the awesome Olivia Grace Todd came to my heart’s rescue with her camera.  I almost had to pinch myself to see if what I was experiencing was true - just another example of God's providential plans!  Together, we watched the image appear of the two of us, and at that moment, I knew that she loved me back just as much as I loved her.  A tear fell from her eye as she realized she would have a picture of us together to cherish.

In my heart of hearts, I felt that I needed to invest in this woman, meet her physical needs as best I could, but I also was compelled to build a relationship with her before sharing the Gospel.  Missions is not just 'telling people about Jesus."  It's about being sensitive to God to know when you need to meet physical needs & build relationships, and it's about listening to God's timing on when you should move the conversation to the spiritual.  My very wise pastor John Meador (FBC Euless, TX) has said that "relationship" is the most important word in the English language.  After my experience with Anastazia Robi, I believe that we were able to bond because I met her physical needs first...even that silly tylenol that we take for granted.  

After about 40 minutes of taking care of Anastazia Robi, I knew it was time to get down to business.  After all, we weren’t on lunch break all afternoon, and soon we would have to break for our discipleship groups.  I knew that it was time to start sharing the Gospel with her.  I then quickly learned that my translator spoke Swahili, but Anastazia didn't fully speak Swahili.  She understood some, but her native tongue was Lugha.  So I shared with her in English, which was then translated to Swahili, and then translated again to her native tongue of Lugha. 

She told me she was from a works-based religion.  In most cultures, her religion means her entrance into heaven was based on the works she did or did not do here on earth.  I shared with her that being a good person and living a good life is not the way to have a relationship with God.  I then shared with her the plan of salvation and showed her the verses in the Bible that say it’s not by works of righteousness that we have done, but according to God’s grace that we are saved.  (Titus 3:5, Ephesians 2:8-9).  On Tuesday, August 2^nd, Anastazia Robi bowed her head and with tears in her eyes prayed a simple prayer of forgiveness.  And at that moment, God invaded her heart, never to leave her.

Since she had her picture of us, she was now more than happy to let me take pictures, and that I did…en mass.   We took selfies together.  We made silly faces.  (Well, mostly I made the silly faces, because try as she might to imitate my facial gesture, the look on her face never really changed much!)  We laughed.  Big, belly laughs.  She referred to me as “rafiki”, and all during the discipleship group, our hands stayed gripped together.  As our first day in the village came to a close, I didn’t have any idea if I would see this sweet woman again, but I knew that she had made a decision to accept Christ for herself, and because of that, I would see her in heaven one day.

On our last day of ministry before leaving Tanzania, we met again in the church building to go out in teams and share the Gospel.  I knew she wouldn’t be there, but I hoped she would be back in the afternoon for the discipleship group.  Hope did not disappoint.  In fact, she was there waiting for me, big toothless smile across her face.  Empty chair saved just for me, her new rafiki.

We took more selfies.  We laughed.  We talked as if we could understand each other, and she swatted away the children who were trying to photo-bomb “our pictures”.  I took some video of us together, and she even learned how to say my name and “I love you” in English.  During the discipleship time, she once again gripped my hand, and every time I glanced over at her, she would look back with a sweet smile.  My Rafiki, my friend – Anastazia Robi. 

As our hands were inseparable, I knew our time together was drawing to a close.  Through my translator, I explained to her that I was leaving to go back to the USA the next day, and I had to say goodbye.  She understood, and she told me that she would be waiting for me to come back next year.  I made no promises, only that I would try!  I slipped my favorite necklace off my neck and latched it around hers.  I made her promise that she wouldn’t let one of her grandchildren have it, and that it was for her, as a symbol of our friendship.  She promised to keep it, and then I helped her through the door of the church, down the step, and she sat there waving goodbye until I was out of sight.

I still know very little about this woman who impacted my heart.  Her name is Anastazia Robi.  She had but one child, 12 grandchildren, carried a stick nearly as tall as her, and she was born in the “year of the locust.”  I know that she is my life-long friend, and I know God's timing is perfect.  Had the medical clinic taken place, I never would have had the opportunity to invest in her, nor she in me.  She is my rafiki, but most importantly, she is a friend of God now.

Notice the picture above, my black & silver necklace...
then in the picture below, she is wearing it.  :)

And this story, my friends, is my sweetest memory from this last trip to Tanzania.  I'm so blessed to have opportunities like this that make a forever impact on my heart.  

Pray for the people of Kubiterere.  Pray for those in this village that has been through such times of tribal warfare.  Many are still vengeful for the wrongs that were done to their family and need to know about Jesus.

And please pray for my rafiki, my friend, Anastazia Robi. 

 

-- Beth Banfill

www.GodandMe2themax.com

 

 

Reflexology Reflections

Proverbs 16:9 “Man makes his plans, but the Lord directs his steps.”

About a month ago, Amber and I were out shopping at Ross.  Upon leaving the store, we returned to find something under the windshield wiper.  I looked around and you guessed it: every vehicle within view had one of these same flyers:  Sunny Foot Spa: 70 minutes of reflexology massage for only $25, $5 off their normal price.

Normally I get pretty frustrated when people leave solicitations on my vehicle, but after looking at the paper, I suddenly wasn’t upset any longer.  I mean, how can you beat that?  I’m all for massage, and just the mention of the word makes my sore back and neck muscles long to be deeply touched.  With excitement, I showed it to Amber, who quickly rolled her eyes in typical daughter fashion.  She’s not one for massage, and she’s definitely not one who advocates for frivolous spending.  To her, massage = frivolous spending.  To me, massage = heaven on earth; the deeper pressure, the better.  So I tucked the paper away to use sometime in the future (likely for after she went back to college) and we went on our merry way.

Fast forward about a month to this last week.  My friend Sharon and I were looking for something to do together in the evening after work, and I asked her if she knew much about reflexology.  Now, you have to understand something: Sharon is a ‘go with the flow’ friend who is often agreeable to about whatever I suggest.  I knew Sharon wasn’t too keen on massage, but I knew she liked pedicures, so I figured this reflexology thing might be kind of a mix between the two.  She looked at the flyer, and she was “all-in:!

I must admit, even though I am a massive believer in therapeutic massage, as we walked into the storefront of Sunny Foot Spa, it quickly became clear to me that I was a little disillusioned about how this reflexology thing worked.  I peeked around the corner to try to check out the situation.  All I could tell when I tried to glance beyond the tri-fold screen that led into the open room was that I wasn’t so sure Sharon was going to like this thing.

 

 

“How does this work?   Are we allowed to talk?  I asked.  And most importantly, “Can you let me use this coupon for both of us?”  There was clearly a language barrier, so the staff member went to get someone else.  Unfortunately, the answer was pretty much ‘No” for all of the above.  I took a few steps toward the room to get a better look at what was behind the screen.  It was an open room filled with several pieces of furniture, kind of like ottomans, pieced together and covered with white towels.  I double checked with Sharon to get approval; she nodded, and from that point on, there was no turning back.

 

 

We followed the staff member to our stations (aka our personal ottomans.)  It truly was a strange set-up, at least strange for me.  We were told to put our belongings in a little tub at the top of our stations, and I started to pull my hair up on top of my head.  With a broken English accent, I was quickly told to not do that because I was going to be getting a head massage.  Now, I’m all for a head massage, but this one thing I know:  if they tried touching my feet and then putting their hands anywhere near my head, I was going to have to create a scene.  (Yes, I have foot issues, but that’s another blog.)

We were told to lie on the ottoman with our legs hanging over the side so our feet could soak in a fancy bowl of hot water.   I can’t say that was really a comfortable position, because if you have any amount of junk in the trunk like I do, it kind of hurts your middle back to be in such a position.  Sidenote: If there’s one thing I am known for at work, keeping my mouth closed is not it.  My colleagues would be so proud of me, really, because as I glanced over at a perfectly happy Sharon, I decided to silently live with the temporary discomfort.

Before I knew it, the therapist stretched a dry white washcloth across my face and over my eyes, blocking my vision.  Not seeing what’s going on is unnerving to me.  Not knowing what’s going on is perhaps even more so.  I like to be “in the know” and the unnerving thing was more so that I could tell there was movement around me but I didn’t know what or who was around me.  All I could think of was that someone was getting into my purse, located in the bin on the floor just above my head.  At this point, reflexology was not delivering relaxation.

I hated that washcloth over my eyes, but about half way through my session, I realized I could position it in a way that I could see the therapist (now working on my feet) through the bottom where my nose lifted the edge.  Success.  I could finally relax and enjoy the session.

Soon it was time for him to work on my back, and as I turned over with my head in the built-in cradle, my mind started to replay what I had experienced for the last 35 minutes.  It dawned on me that my desire to be “in the know” kept me from enjoying the first half of my experience at Sunny Foot Spa.  And as I lay there, I couldn’t help but realize the object lesson God was trying to teach me about “me”.

You see, for the last several years, our family been kind of living with some washcloths over our eyes.  We’ve not been completely in the dark, because God has let us take plenty of peeks along the way.  We knew He’s been preparing us for a change, but we just didn’t know what exactly that meant.  Was it a move out of state?  Was it a new job for my husband?  Was it a move to the other side of Dallas for a school that better fit our son’s learning style?  These are all things we prayed about and investigated.  And with each “no”, we got another peek through the bottom of the washcloth.

Then it happened: the washcloth was removed completely, or so we thought.  One day last spring, I got a call from my boss asking me to consider providing leadership in our Irving TX office.  In truth, in all that time of being unsettled and knowing “change” was on the horizon, it never dawned on either of us that the reason for an upcoming transition would be related to my job. 

We only live about 60-75 minutes from the Irving office I was asked to lead, but I already work a lot of hours each week.  Personally, I just didn’t have another 10 hours a week to give the company in a commute, so the decision was obvious.  (This is not to say that the decision was easy, because coming to grips with leaving my comfort zone and moving to a new area after 16 years of being in Wylie was one that came with many, many tears, but that’s another blog, too.)

Within a week, we had our home on the market, and we had a plan in place.  It all seemed to make sense and fall into order.  We spent at least one day of each weekend this last summer looking at neighborhoods out near the airport to figure out what area to relocate to.  We went to open house after open house, and most importantly, we visited churches all around where we thought we would end up living.  Our plan: to find a new church home and get Jacob assimilated into the student ministry, so that when our home in Wylie sold, we would already have a jump start on getting him settled for the start of his junior year of high school.

Within a few weeks, we had a great offer on our home, but before we could accept it, the buyer had to withdraw his offer.  Over the course of the summer, we had two more crazy-low offers that we couldn’t accept for obvious reasons.  And as of today, nearly 100 days later, our home is still on the market as we wait on God and His perfect timing.

Yes, we had our plans.  We wanted Amber to be able to help pick out our new home before she went back to college for her Junior year.  That didn’t happen - she went back to California 2 weeks ago.  We had plans for Jacob to start his junior year in a new school district.  That didn’t happen.  We had plans to be settled into a new home and already active in a new church.  Obviously, that didn’t happen either.  We didn’t realize it, but that washcloth we thought had been removed was right back on again.  God had only given us a peek into what was coming.

And as I lay on my stomach at Sunny Foot Spa, I realized that my whole experience there was reflective of the summer that had just ended.  I thought things were going to go a certain way, but what I experienced was completely different.  God had gently placed a blindfold over my eyes for the summer, allowing me to peek a little here and there, but only for a short period of time.  Just like I had to trust that the experience at Sunny Foot Spa would be a positive one, God confirms to me over and over, “Trust me, it’ll be worth the wait.”  Just like I had to go through a little discomfort on the ottoman, God re-assures me, “I know this is a little uncomfortable now, but keep trusting me; don’t complain; it will be worth it.” 

When Sharon and I finished our session, we both looked at each other in amazement at how awesome the experience was.  Next time, I won’t care about that blindfold being on my face.  I know I can trust the process to accomplish its purpose.  And you know what?  There’s never been a doubt that I can trust God that the end product when we move will be something amazing, too.

I debated to even put pen to paper about my Sunny Foot Spa reflections.  In truth, my life has been kind of on “hold” for so long that I just figured it would stay “on hold” until we moved.  Even though I’ve been waiting on Him, as patiently and positively as I know how, I’ve kind of just been “existing” instead of living.  I’ve put so much on hold and have hated that blindfold over my eyes so much that I haven’t allowed myself to enjoy this period of waiting on God. 

Because I struggle with the “need to know”, I didn’t really enjoy my Sunny Foot Spa experience until it was more than half-way over.  And because of the same thing, God showed me that I’ve not been living life to its fullest during this transition and enjoying this stage of my life.  I haven’t been using my gifts or been involved in ministry at all, and it’s left me feeling very empty. 

Over the last month, I have playing one song on my phone, over and over (and over) by Casting Crowns called “Just Be Held.”  If you haven’t heard it, you must do so immediately.  I’ve listened at least 100 times, and the words are golden…

Verse 1
Hold it all together.  Everybody needs you strong.
But life hits you out of nowhere and barely leaves you holding on.
And when you’re tired of fighting, chained by your control,
There’s freedom in surrender, lay it down and let it go.

Chorus
So when you’re on your knees and answers seems so far away
You’re not alone, stop holding on and just be held
Your world’s not falling apart it’s falling into place
I’m on the throne stop holding on and just be held.  Just be held.

Verse 2
If your eyes are on the storm you wonder if I love you still.
But if your eyes are on the cross you know I always have and I always will.
And not a tear is wasted in time you’ll understand,
I’m painting beauty with the ashes; your life is in My hands.

Bridge
Lift your hands, lift your eyes, in the storm is where you’ll find Me
And where you are I’ll hold your heart, I’ll hold your heart.
Come to me and find your rest in the arms of a God who won’t let go.

Chorus
So when you’re on your knees and answers seems so far away
You’re not alone, stop holding on and just be held
Your world’s not falling apart it’s falling into place
I’m on the throne stop holding on and just be held.  Just be held.

It didn’t dawn on me until this weekend that even though my faith in this process of moving hasn’t wavered, I’ve personally just been “holding on” – exactly what the song talks about.  I have been taking a big breath and coming up for air only when I have to.  I had stopped writing, and I had pretty much stopped looking for ministry opportunities.  Blindfold removed or not, it’s clear that God wants me to enjoy this process of faith and not just “sit and wait” holding on.  The blindfold doesn’t mean to stop pressing on, it just means to press on while holding the hand of my Guide more tightly.

Yes, I’m a little out of practice at this blogging thing.  And yes, I’m more than a little out of practice at trying to be brief.  (OK, in truth, I didn’t try this time.)  But this one thing I know, I'm committed to not just “hold on” any more.  I’m committed to enjoy the process from here on out, start to finish, blindfold or not. 

 

 

And one more thing, I'm definitely going back to Sunny Foot Spa as soon as I can!  There's something to this "reflexology" thing, and it definitely gives you reason for reflection!

 

-- Beth Banfill
www.GodandMe2themax.com

 

 

Figs, Faith, and Fruit

Early in the morning, as Jesus was on his way back to the city, He was hungry. Seeing a fig tree by the road, he went up to it but found nothing on it except leaves. Then He said to it, “May you never bear fruit again!” Immediately the tree withered.”  Matthew 21:18-19

So as I read this passage, I had to stop for contemplation.  Jesus, of course, is omniscient.  He reached up into the tree, knowing that no fruit would be present.  I don’t know about you, but if I knew there was no food in the cupboards, I certainly wouldn’t reach into the cupboards when I’m hungry.  I would go directly to another source where I knew food could be found.  But then again, I’m not Jesus.  Clearly.

I believe Jesus was deliberate in His actions, and everything He did was to teach principles to those around Him, and of course, glorify His Father in the process.  So, why?  Why did He reach up in the tree, knowing there would be no fruit?  And why did He curse the fig tree afterward?  Was it a quick momentary act of anger because He was hungry and it didn’t offer any fruit?  Knowing Jesus’ character, I would definitely say that’s not the case.  Jesus often spoke in parables, and this was a real-life parable in action.

From a distance, the tree was alluring, even inviting, but up close, the tree offered nothing.  To apply it, the people of the day appeared to be religious, but in essence, after further review, just like the tree, they did not even bear fruit.  (And what good is a fruit tree without fruit?)  The footnote in my NIV Study Bible calls it, “religion without substance.”  It goes on to talk about the application in Jesus’ time, “Just like the fruit tree looked good from a distance but was fruitless on close examination, so the temple looked impressive at first glance, but its sacrifices and other activities were hollow because they were not done to worship God sincerely.”  How many people today put their faith in their good works and religion?  How many different faiths today are work-based?  Almost every single one instructs followers that they have to do a list of things to obtain ‘afterlife’ and please God/the gods. 

When you really think about it, many religions share common elements.  Many even believe that Jesus came to earth, died, and rose again.  Some believe He was a prophet.  Some believe He was a good man that lived.  All of them involve some kind of faith & good works.  It’s uncanny just how close the resemblance is when you really break it down.  Take a look at the chart below, and start at the bottom and work your way up, comparing the left from the right.

 

 

The biggest visible difference is the ‘object’ of the faith.  Christ-followers choose to put their faith in Jesus Christ as the only way to heaven.  Other religions put their faith in good works.  For the Christ-follower, good works are (or should be) a natural result of having a relationship with God.  Other religions have requirements of good works in order to obtain favor from God.  You know some of them – go to confession, light a candle for the deceased, pray facing a certain direction, don’t eat certain animals because one day you’ll be reincarnated into one of them if you’re good enough.)  I’ve heard it said many times, “It’s all the same.  As long as you believe in something.”  But the Bible says, even the demons believe.  Believing is not the answer – it’s the object of your belief/faith that is.  We could never be good enough to earn God’s favor, yet He freely gives it to anyone who chooses to accept it.

The next application from this living parable is for those people who claim to be fig trees, but they bear no fruit.  Have you ever thought you knew someone but later been shocked to hear them share that they were a Christian?  I’ve had a few interactions with people through the years like this.  They would lose their temper in meetings, cuss at the drop of a hat, take out their frustrations on everyone around them, and party like everyone else at the seasonal company events.  They claimed to be a “fig tree”, but as far as I could see, they didn’t produce any fruit from that tree.  It’s not my place to judge – that is God’s job.  But this I know, when it comes to my faith in God, I believe the Bible is pretty clear: we should live out our salvation.  If we claim to have a relationship with God, no one should be shocked to hear about it.  It should be evident in our actions; the fruit should be on the tree.   James 3:17 says, “But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere.”  If we claim to be a Christian, then there should be evidence of it.  If there’s no evidence, then it begs the obvious question.

This last week, I had the opportunity to help an old friend out from our church in Ohio.  I hadn’t seen her in well over 15 years, and it’s not like we were ‘best buds’ when we did know each other back then.  She posted a need on facebook, and then a few days later, she posted it again.  As I saw her need becoming more pressing, I had a gentle nudge from the Holy Spirit telling me to volunteer.  I could have easily just moved on to another post in facebook and acted like I never even knew about the situation.  But I knew in my heart that if I did “move on”, it would be wrong of me.  The Holy Spirit was telling me to ‘live out my salvation,” and so I volunteered, even though this involved in total nearly 10 extra hours of my time in a 15 hour span, smack dab in the middle of the work-week.  I won’t go into all the details, but one person said to me, “Why in the world did you volunteer to do that?  Are you crazy?”  Another said, “You are a saint to do that for her.”  No, I wasn’t crazy, and no, I wasn’t a saint.  I was just doing what I knew God wanted me to do.  I was living out my salvation and hopefully showing evidence of Him in my life as a result.  Now, I’m a people-pleaser by nature, and because of that, sometimes I just do things because I know it’ll make them happy.  Maybe you can relate -- the real test of fruit is the motive.  I didn’t do the favor for my friend to rack up points in my ‘good deeds bank.’  I didn’t do it so that one day maybe someone would help me out in my time of need.  In fact, at first, I really didn’t want to do it at all.  To quote Sweet Brown, “Ain’t nobody got time for ‘dat!’”  The truth is, I did it because I love Jesus, and He urged me to volunteer.  It was my choice to obey, and I didn’t even want to do it at first.  In fact, I ignored the first post that saw from my friend.  But part of obedience is doing things you wouldn’t normally do, just because He tells you to do them.  That’s when fruit is produced.

Now look to the end of the passage. “Why did Jesus curse the tree?”  He clearly didn’t lose His temper because He was starving to death.  Was it a sign of what will happen to trees that don’t bear fruit?  I’ll let you go study that for yourself.  That answer is for another day, another blog.

The bottom line is, “who” or “what” is the object of your faith?  Are you doing good deeds to advance in your religion, in hopes of earning God’s favor?  Or maybe like the religious workers in Jesus’ day, all you care about is yourself and giving the appearance of religion to onlookers.  Or are you a fig tree that is bearing fruit, truly seeking God, and as a result, there is evidence of that relationship in your life? 

Jesus says we need the faith of a child.  It’s a big decision, but yet it’s so simple.  I’ll close with this short video of my daughter Amber sharing in a stadium in Barranquilla, Colombia about her decision to start a relationship with God.  Even as a 9 year old, she talks about the struggle she had in making a decision to follow Christ.

 

 

 

I write this blog to share about my relationship with Christ, and I write so others will one day understand how being a Christ follower is not a list of rules and regulations, it offers joy and freedom.  If all this talk about fruit, faith, and figs leaves your brain in a fog, then chances are you really don’t understand what the Bible teaches about having a relationship with God and being a Christ-follower.  I’d love to share more with you, one on one.  Message me or talk to someone, but don’t just disregard this as a fanatic Christian rant.  Jesus - He’s the real deal, and I don't know about you, but I don't want to be a worthless tree that exists without bearing fruit.

 

---Beth Banfill
www.GodandMe2theMax.com

Observations from Amsterdam...

"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.  
Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery...
You, my brothers, wre called to be free.  
But do not use  your freedom to indulge the sinful nature;
rather, serve one another in love.  
The entire law is summed up in a single command:  
'Love your neighbor as yourself.' "  
Galatians 5:1, 13-14

 

For those who are my friends on Facebook, you know that I've spent the last week primarily in The Netherlands.  The purpose of the trip was for work, but I had the privilege of going in a few days early with a friend so I could see the city.  
I've been through the airport in the past, but I've never been able to go experience the Dutch culture, and this was my perfect opportunity.  

But as I reflect on my time there, I have some observations to share...

First, most Americans are lazy.  
OK, I really can't fairly speak for the majority of Americans, but I can speak for myself -- I am lazy.  There, I said it.  Over the last week, I walked and hiked more than I have in the entire last year, and that even includes the walking conducted on past shopping excursions (that's a lot, by the way!).  

When I want to go somewhere in the USA, I jump in the car and take off.  I don't use public transportation.  And, I definitely never consider jumping on my bike that is hanging in my garage, probably full of cobwebs, untouched since our move to this house 5 years ago.

But in Amsterdam, a motorized vehicle is a minority.  Bicycles, well they are the majority.  There are multi-level parking garages full of them.  There are no cars in the garages; no, they are 100% full of every kind of bicycle you can imagine.  Old, new, locked, unlocked, and probably some broke ones, too.

 

And that leads me to my next observation.  In Amsterdam, pedestrians do not have the right of way.  Ever.  Although I never saw an accident while I was there, I did experience my friends saving my life time and time again.  Just when I thought it was safe to cross the street, someone grabbed me to hold me back, because a bus, taxi, or more often, 50 bicyclists were about to converge on the same area where my feet were headed.

 

 

Third, Amsterdam has some pretty delectible treats to offer.  
From the Stroupe Waffles I brought home with me, to the breads, and the incredible fresh fruits, combined with the various pastries, well, let's just say that this girls's sweet tooth was pretty content.  My favorite meal was at this place below.  The man in the picture makes fresh crepes with each order. My friend and I each ordered a different crepe and then split them, so we could try them both.  So by the time I left, I had a half of a mozzarella crepe, a half of a strawberry crepe, topped with nutella and chocolate, and then finally, for desert, I had a pastry filled with strawberries, nutella, chocolate, ice cream and real whipped cream.  My taste buds thanked me for taking them.  My hips did not.

 

 

Next observation: Amsterdam is a beautiful city.  Truly, some of the features are incredible and the architecture is gorgeous!  I love the way that parts of the old city has seemingly stopped in time.

On top of that, Amsterdam hosts the Anne Frank house.  I could have spent hours upon hours reading and re-reading the excerpts from the Diary of Anne Frank as I toured the house she and her family hid in.  The outside of the house was under renovation, so the only shot I got was this one below.  No pictures were permitted inside, just like in the Van Gogh museum, so you'll have to go for yourself to check it out.  It's a must see, and you also really need to buy tickets in advance if you don't want to wait forever in line for a timed entrance.

However, as beautiful as this city is, I guarantee you I could live the rest of my life without passing another sex shop or storefront selling "magic mushrooms", and in doing so, I would be fully complete.  

Depending on what list you read, Amsterdam either tops the list of the ten most sinful cities in the world or at least ranks in the top 5.  While I was there, I took a canal cruise, and the recording that told about the sites in the city said something like this, "Amsterdam was founded by a group of citizens wanting freedom.  Amsterdam is not known for its great churches and cathedrals, but rather for its red-light district."  

Friends, from my observation, let me tell you, this is a true statement.  Dispersed between the souvenir shops and restaurants downtown is every kind of immoral site you can imagine.  I saw a sign that said, "The sex workers do not want to be photographed."  I passed by at least one "Sex Museum", probably multiple ones.  Mechanical things I can't really describe in this blog were openly on display in windows.  I walked across a sidewalk with a sculpture of a woman's breasts with a man's hand on one of them, which of course seemed completely appropriate, given the city I was visiting.

In The Fault in Our Stars, John Green wrote, "Some tourists think Amsterdam is a city of sin, but in truth, it is a city of freedom.  And in freedom, most people find sin."  

As I think about this quote, I realize the depth of truth it offers.  Freedom.  As a Christian, I believe Christ died to give us freedom, freedom in Him.  He doesn't impose His will on me; I have a choice.  I can choose to pursue fleshly desires and live a life of sin, or I can choose to deny self and follow Christ.  And I have to ask, which one offers true freedom?

When you're surrounded by the "norm" being the antithesis of everything you believe in, the freedom of choosing sin over Christ is a real possibility for even the most seasoned Christian.  I found myself quoting Scripture about renewing my mind and taking every thought captive.  When you're in a foreign land, the enemy quickly whispers, "no one is watching."  Now don’t worry, I didn't visit any inappropriate places while I was there, nor was I even really tempted to do so.  But I did find my mind wandering with curse words being the first thought to enter my brain when I would hit my head on a short doorframe, which is quite unlike me.  (Another observation - the Dutch are apparently not very tall people, and I have several knots on my noggin to support that observation!)  In short (pun intended), It's easy to let your guard down without even knowing you've done it.  

I Corinthians 6:12 says, "Everything is permissible for me, but not everything is beneficial.  Everything is permissible, but I will not be mastered by anything."  So I wonder how many freedom seeking people involved in this lifestyle are mastered by it.  I would venture to say there are many addicted, and the freedom they think they have is really no freedom at all.  In reality, they are slaves to the sin.  The Bible says in Hebrews that sin is fun for a season.  Proverbs 16:25 says "There is a way that appears to be right, but the end is death."  

I Peter 5:8 says we have to be sober and alert because the enemy is prowling around looking to devour us.  So my challenge to you (and myself) today is from these Scriptures:

2 Corinthians 10:5 "Demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to make it obedient to Christ."  

Romans 12:-2  "Do not be conformed to the world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you will be able to prove what is good and acceptable and pleasing to God."

Am I perfect?  No, of course not.  I am a sinner, saved by God's grace.  And please understand I'm not trying to write this with a premise of being a "holier than thou" Christian who does no wrong.  Lord knows that is far from the truth, and if in doubt, just ask my kids who will quickly write an expose on their mother.  

I just want to be the best Beth that I can be in God's eyes, through His strength, not my own.  Even in the midst of the evil, there was so much beauty in Amsterdam that my heart felt a pang about leaving.  But that's how satan works, you know?  Because my final observation is that it doesn't take much for satan to get a foothold on a little piece of your heart, and that little piece can easily turn into a big hunk, and eventually he'll claim squatters rights on a large oversized portion.  His control slowly grows as I let him.

I'll close with one of my favorite songs that I keep on my playlist.  It's by Casting Crowns, and it's called "Slow Fade."  All it takes is for satan to get just a little piece of your heart, and from there, it's a slow fade, so slow, that we often don't even realize it's happened until we've messed up so badly that we hit rock bottom.

Be cautious.  As cautious as pedestrians crossing the road in Amsterdam.  Don't take one step into the street when possible danger (or a bicycle) is headed your way.  Look left.  Look right.  And look left again.  Do a double, even a triple take, because as quickly as bicycles appeared out of nowhere with the intent to run me over, satan himself will attempt to do the same thing.  

 

Be careful little eyes what you see
It's the second glance that ties your hands as darkness pulls the strings
Be careful little feet where you go
For it's the little feet behind you that are sure to follow

It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray 
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day
It's a slow fade, it's a slow fade

Be careful little ears what you hear
When flattery leads to compromise, the end is always near
Be careful little lips what you say
For empty words and promises lead broken hearts astray

It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray 
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day

The journey from your mind to your hands
Is shorter than you're thinking
Be careful if you think you stand
You just might be sinking

It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day
Daddies never crumble in a day
Families never crumble in a day

Oh be careful little eyes what see
Oh be careful little eyes what you see
For the Father up above is looking down in love
Oh be careful little eyes what you see

 

--- Beth Banfill
www.GodandMe2theMax.com