GodandMe2theMax

Branches gone wild...

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.
You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If you do not remain in me, you are like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.” John 15:1-8

 

I admit it.  I’m ignorant when it comes to horticulture, or really anything related to the outdoors.  I only know that word because we had a family friend who was a professional horticulturist!  I remember driving around with my friend Shelley my first year of living in Texas and repeatedly asking “Now, what kind of tree is that?  Wow!  Look at that one!  What is that one called?  I like that one!  What’s that one called again?”  I was seeing parts of God’s beauty that I had never been exposed to before, having grown up in Ohio with its cold, harsh winters.  I’m sure Shelley would roll her eyes when I wasn’t looking and then repeat the same answer  over and over and over again, “Beth, that’s a crepe myrtle…or she would say, “Beth, that’s a red tip photinia….crepe myrtle…that’s a crepe myrtle, too.”  You see, I quickly realized the only bushes/trees that caught my eyes were one of these two kinds, with by far, my favorite being the different colored crepe myrtles. 

Having lived in Texas now for thirteen plus years, especially in August when crepe myrtles are in full bloom, nothing has changed my fancy.  This time of year, within a mile of leaving my home, I see beautiful crepe myrtle trees – red, pink, and white.  As I drive by them, I must admit I usually start to sin, wanting one for myself.  You see, when we built our home two and a half years ago, we didn’t get to pick what kind of trees and bushes were put in our yard; we were promised only that we would have the basic landscaping package that included grass, tress, and bushes.   As beautiful as I think they are, investing in a tree when we already have a few is not something that has been a priority.  Working outside in the Texas heat (manual labor) is also not a priority for me either, so as you can imagine, I haven’t run up to the Home Depot to buy a Crepe Myrtle to help fulfill the lusts of my eyes.

A few weeks ago, as the Crepe Myrtles came into bloom, I started to notice something.  Each crepe myrtle with a beautiful bloom had a long trunk before the branches reached out with the flowers.  As Frank would drive us around town doing errands, just like when we first moved here, my eyes were drawn to those trees, over and over again.  We recently walked through the garden section of Home Depot and I noticed a sign for crepe myrtle trees.  They're really not too expensive right now, and as I checked them out, I realized something.  Those flowers on the trees at Home Depot looked awfully close to that mess of a bush that was in my front yard.  Yes, my powers of observation are not too good, because I fianlly put two and two together and realized that I have crepe myrtles anchoring my treelawn on each side.  (By the way, another thing I have learned is that “treelawn” must be a northern term, because none of my friends know what such a thing is, so for you southerners, that’s also known as a flowerbed!)

Why didn’t I realize that for three plus years I’ve had not one but two of my favorite sights in my own yard?  Because my crepe myrtles were unkempt.  My crepe myrtles hadn’t been pruned, and my crepe myrtles have been left to grow wild. They were ugly.  Unrecognizable by a novice.  They had a few blooms, but mostly they were just overrun with green and branches.

 

Crepe myrtle with branches grown wild, very few blooms.

 

So on Sunday after church, I decided I was going to go prune my crepe myrtles, in hopes that next year, maybe I can have one of those trees that people admire as they drive by.  It was about 104°, so maybe that wasn’t the best choice for someone who doesn’t like manual labor or the heat, but I was determined.

Little by little, I started to cut away the overgrowth.  Little by little, as I dodged the spiders and bees, I got the first crepe myrtle trimmed up.  I cut away a lot of green, and I must say that it’s not exactly pretty right now; in fact, it looks pretty bare and sparse.  But I know the pain and sweat that I went through to get those branches trimmed is going to pay off next year when it’s time for the tree to bloom again.

 

Branches grown wild...no more.  The remnants of the pruning.

 

As I started to work, and as the sweat beaded through my hair and down my back, I couldn’t help but think of the imagery of God pruning us.  How much easier it would have been if I had been pruning the crepe myrtle little by little.  Some of those “branches gone wild” were pretty thick.  I had to get the hack-saw out just to get through some of them. Certainly, if we let God shape and mold us little by little into His creations, it’s a much less painful experience than if we let our branches grow wild.  Sometimes it’s not fun, and sometimes that interim time is not pretty, but He does it for a purpose – to bring us into a more beautiful bloom in Him.  The end result, when God prunes us, is beautiful. And I hope that will also be the end result for my crepe myrtles.

 

The mid-way result of pruning isn't always pretty, but the end result will be beautiful.

 

I probably should have done a little research on how to prune a crepe myrtle, but being the impulsive person I am, I just went out chopping and cutting, trying to make my tree look like the ones that I would gaze at and admire. I’m so thankful my Heavenly Pruner knows just the way to prune me so that I will bloom beautifully for Him.  Parts of the pruning will be painful, but necessary.  Sometimes I won’t like the mid-way looks, but in the end, if I cooperate and in His perfect timing, I will hopefully be recognized as His crepe myrtle, not just another bush.  I hope my end result will be a beautiful flowering crepe myrtle blooming for Him.

 

This is what a crepe myrtle tree is supposed to look like.  Long trunk, blooms reaching toward the sky.  And maybe next year, all the pruning will pay off.  If nothing else, God sure gave me a good visual lesson of His pruning today.

 

Lord prune me, mold me, shape me, make me into Your beautiful creation...living, breathing, pointing to You, and glorifying You in all I do.

 

--- Beth Banfill
www.GodandMe2theMax.com

Simon Says to Follow the Leader...

"I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand. 
My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all;
no one can snatch them out of my Father's hand."
John 10:28-29

Do you remember the games we played as children? Simon Says, Follow the Leader, Mother May I, and I'm sure there were others that I'm getting too old to remember. 

"Simon Says touch your nose.  Simon Says turn around in circles.  OK-stop.  You're out!   (Insert laughter)...Simon didn't say to stop!"  Or what about Follow the Leader?  I don't remember much about the rules of the game, but I remember I had to emulate every move my leader made, and if I missed one move, I was out of the game.  With Mother May I we couldn't make a move without permission, and the first one to get to "Mother" was the winner.

I have a file on my computer called "In Progress."  It's a file of microsoft word documents that have miscellaneous song lyrics, poems, half-done thoughts and random ramblings of mine, kept in hopes of completing them some day.  Half of the things I forget I ever wrote, and then some of them I pray over regularly and ask God to give me just the right words and rhythm to flow on paper what my heart feels. 

This morning, I randomly opened a file I had named Follow the Leader.  I couldn't help but think of the similarities and polar opposite comparisons between these man-made rules and God's views.  Think about it.  With Mother May I, the whole point of the game is to check with "Mother" to see if my action is permissable.  Well, God's version is Father May I, and I think He likes this rule of the game.  We should always be checking our every move to see if it's ok with what Father wants for us.  But the difference is that He gives us free access to Him.  He doesn't try to prevent us from getting to Him!  In fact, it's just the opposite - He's on call 24-7, we have His written word, the Bible, and Hebrews 13:5 says He will never leave us.

I don't remember much about Follow the Leader, but I do remember we were supposed to watch our leader and do every move just like them.  The leader would try to do crazy actions and sudden moves to get us to mess up, but God's version is so different.  He makes the path clear for us, but just like in the game, we have to keep our eyes on Him.  And when we mess up, like we always do, He doesn't kick us out of the game.  We just confess, admit we made a mistake, and keep right on trying to follow.  The great thing about God's version of Follow the Leader is that the game never ends until we die.  We should constantly be following, copying, and emulating our Leader.

God's equivalent to Simon Says is God Says but there's no tricks along the way.  He has all the rules layed out in the Bible for us.  We just have to read the rule book to know them.  And no, God never smiles when we make a mistake and says with a laugh, "You're out.  You're out of the game." 

Now let me stop there.  You have to be "in the game" first.  So many people believe in God; in fact, most people do.  The Bible says "even the demons believe."  But believing in God is not going to get you to heaven.  The God Says rulebook is very clear, and I would be remiss to not be very clear in these next few paragraphs as well, because I know there are people who read my blog who "believe in God" but have never had a life-changing encounter with Him.   

There must be a time in your life when you've realized that you are a sinner, and your sin separates you from God in heaven who is perfect and holy.  Yes, many people believe that He died on the cross, was buried, and even that He rose again.  But the fact that some people miss is that when He did this, He conquered sin and death, so that we can have eternal life.  But it's only through putting our faith in Jesus Christ that this takes place.  There must be a time in your life when you've asked Jesus to come into your life and save you, when You've asked Him to take control.  It's a personal decision, and just because you've gone to church or been raised in a Christian family, doesn't make you a Christian.  I like to use the analogy that it's as if you were driving down the road, the "sin road" and you realize you're going the wrong way.  You then decide to do a U-turn and move over to the passenger side of the car of life, and let God be the driver.  There is nothing I can do to earn my salvation.  Nothing.  Being a good person, giving to the poor, going to Africa - none of those will get me to heaven when I die.  It's only by putting my faith and trust in Jesus Christ that I can be sure of heaven.

So before I go any further, think back.  Can you remember the moment you asked Jesus to come into your life, forgive you of your sins and save you?  Can you remember how it happened?  Or do you just try to be a good person who believes in God and is trying to do your best in life?  If there's never been a time in your life when you've made the decision to let God be the driver, message me or find someone who can show you what the Bible says about becoming a Christian.  I urge you -  make that decision today.  Be sure. 

The Bible says every person will have to give an account of their life.  If you were to die today, and Jesus said, "Why should I let you into heaven?"  Do you have an answer for him?  For me, my answer would be "God, You should let me in heaven because when I was a small child, as best I knew how, I asked you to come into my life and forgive me of my sins, and I put my faith and trust in You."  And that is the only answer He will accept, because everything else would be something I would have done, not what He did.

If there's been a point in your life when you've asked Jesus Christ to take control, then God doesn't say "you're out of the game when you make a mistake."  And that is one of the most awesome things about this game of life!  He loves us so much that He holds us with super-glue.  Once we've asked Him to save us, like the verse at the top says, "Nothing will snatch us from His hand!"

I love how God uses the ordinary to speak His truth.  I probably will never think of those childhood games in the same way again.  And to be honest, I sure like the rules of God Says, Father May I, and God's version of Follow the Leader tremendously more!

It's for You I'll live no matter the cost.
And it's peace You give when the winds blow strong.
I will trust in You as You show the way.
Unrestrained.  I will follow my Leader.

 

--- Beth Banfill
www.GodandMe2theMax.com

 

 

 

 

I once was lost, but now I am found; was blind, but now I see!

Amazing grace!  How sweet the sound!  That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now I am found; was blind, but now I see!

 

If you've been following my posts about the recent Tanzania trip, you can see God gave me a lot to write about.  There's no way I could detail every meaningful moment and precious memory that I have.  I know I have to stop somewhere.  So as I begin to wrap up the last few posts about the trip, I wanted to save this story, about Stephen Mwita, for the last "story."  I will likely have a few follow up entries, but this is the last detailed account of someone coming to Christ that I will have from the Tanzania trip, and it's my favorite one. 

My mom has been asking me to write about it, and I've just kept telling her, "Coming soon to a blog near you."  Why save my favorite til last?  I'm not sure, exactly.  As someone who is compelled to write, articulate, and driven to share, I often feel that until I pen the driving thought on my brain, I can't move on.  And that's just it.  I don't want to "move on" from my Tanzania trip.  I don't want to "move on" from my memory of Stephen Mwita. 

I'm warning you now.  "This ain't no "blog" entry."  No, this is a short story, maybe even a chapter book to those who don't like to read.  But it's a story that needs told.  You need to hear it.  I need to tell it...if for nothing else, I need to detail my thoughts, experiences, and emotions.  I'm compelled to.

So here it is...the story of Stephen Mwita.  This is a story of a simple, honest older gentleman who was serious about Jesus. 

It was Monday morning, June 11th.  We drove about twenty minutes up a mountainside to a part of Bukabwa where a few members of the church lived, two hours away from the center of the village where the new church was being started.  Moses, a teenager from the church and our guide for the day, knew exactly where to take us once we arrived - to the home of his neighbor Stephen.  Katelyn and I were teamed up together with our translator Gladys.  A few other nationals were with us, and of course, my buddy Sanjura Juma Magige was there, a brand new Christian from just two days earlier.  (See earlier blog: Sanjura the Disciple.) 

We walked into the common area of a few huts where we found Stephen and Mariam.  Mariam didn't talk much, and I'm not sure if she was a family member or just a friend who was visiting.  Steven was an older man, weathered by sun and time.  I would have guessed him to be in his late seventies, but later I would find out he was only in his early sixties, sixty-four to be exact.  His voice was tattered, as though he was speaking with laryngitis, but he had strength behind it, with no sign of being sick.  He was tall and looked as strong as an ox for an older guy.  His eyes were clouded, as though he had cataracts, and it quickly became clear to us that Stephen's vision was very poor.

I don't even remember if Katelyn shared first or if I did.  What I do remember is Stephen's response when we asked him and Mariam if they wanted to make a decision for themselves to turn from their sin and accept God's free gift of salvation.  His answer, "I want to do that, but if I do, will you stay and work with me to teach me the Bible and how I'm supposed to live my life now that I've made that decision?" 

My heart broke for a moment.  This man understood the intensity of the decision.  He knew that he was about to make the most important decision of his life, and Stephen did not take it lightly.  This man was serious about becoming a Christian, but in my mind, there was a problem.  You see, the church that has been started in Bukabwa is over a two hour walk from the part of the village where Stephen lived.  Stephen had already told us that he couldn't read the Bible because of his eyesight, so the only way he was going to learn and grow in Christ was if someone spent time mentoring and discipling him. 

I told Stephen that we were having a Bible Study time after lunch, and if he wanted to join us, I would love for him to be my guest.  I explained that I was going to have to go home to Texas in a few days, but that there was a church in the center of the village.  I told him that if he could come to the Bible Study group that afternoon, I would be sure to introduce him to some of the leaders in the church who would be there.  By doing so, hopefully they could come up with a plan for him to start to learn and grow as a Christian. 

That answer seemed to satisfy Stephen, and by God's amazing grace, he and Miram both bowed their heads, asked God to forgive them of their sins, and invited Him to be Lord of their lives.  "Amazing grace!  How sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me."  If the story ended there, it would be an awesome story for sure, but that is just the beginning. 

Sanjura, Stephen, Moses, Mariam, and Christopher (one of the Bukabwan church workers)

After lunch that day, we broke into groups for the afternoon Bible Study / Discipleship time.  We sat on rocks under trees, some met in huts, and some out in the blazing sun.  We had just broken into groups when Stephen rounded the corner and entered the area.  I recognized him immediately and invited him to come into my small group and participate. 

Now, participating in mission trips is not new to me.  My husband and I met on my first international mission trip back in 1988, and since then, I've had the opportunity to go to Colombia nine times, Germany three or four times, Australia, New Zealand, Taiwan, Romania, the Asia, and now to Tanzania.  By God's grace, I've been privileged to see God move in hundreds of people's hearts.  Sometimes you see on their face that a change has taken place.  Sometimes you don't.  I learned a long time ago that I just have to be faithful to do what God has called me to do, and God will be faithful to take care of the rest. 

You see, when Stephen accepted Christ earlier that morning, the angels in heaven rejoiced, but there were no outward bells and whistles.  There were no tears of joy, and from what I remember, not too many ear-to-ear grins, either.  But just like I had to do my job, in true God-fashion, He did His and "took care of the rest" with Stephen Mwita! 

The Bible study topic was "Deepening our Relationship with God."  During the first half of the time, we read and discussed Psalm 24:3-10, with the key thought being "God desires an intimate and vibrant relationship with us but sometimes there are obstacles that get in the way."  I was glad to step back and let another team member, Jeff Davis, lead our small group time, and it's a good thing I did, because the answers I heard from those in the group left me speechless.  (I know that's rare, but it's true!) 

Most everyone in our group participated, and as I observed, it was easy to see that they were anxious to learn the Bible and discuss.  But as we worked through the discussion questions, I was shocked that Stephen answered every single question.  He talked about possible idols in his life that were keeping him from growing.  He answered the question about what God promises to those who seek Him (v.5).  Then the question was asked from vv 7-10, "Are there any "gates" or obstacles in your life that are keeping the Lord Almighty from being glorified in your life?" 

Now, in the United States of America, I dare say we live privileged lives.  Those who are in "poverty" in our culture would still be considered well-off compared to most in the villages of Africa.  I had no idea what kind of answers the Tanzanian nationals would give or if I could even relate or understand the barriers involved in their culture.  But one by one, each person shared an obstacle in their life that was keeping God from being glorified.  The answers given were strikingly similar to what any new Christian in the USA might say.  Alcohol.  Finances.  One woman, with tears in her eyes, even opened up and said, "Barrenness."  (My heart ached for her, especially in this culture.  I prayed a silent prayer for her as we moved around the circle.)

And then it was Stephen's turn.  How I wish I had a video of the answer he gave, but it went something like this.  "I used to be concerned about my eyesight.  I have gone from doctor to doctor to doctor to try to get it fixed.  I've been consumed with it.  But now that Christ is in my life, I am not going to worry about it anymore.  If God wants to heal me, He will.  If He doesn't, then that's ok, because I'm not going to let my lack of sight keep me from letting God be glorified in my life any longer." 

Silence.  The team membrs from the USA in the small group stopped and looked at each other.  I teared up.  Like I said, I'm so glad Jeff was leading the group and not me, because I would not have been able to keep going.  In fact, I just sat there rewinding Stephen's comment in my brain, over and over and over.

His answer was profound.  Stephen had invited Christ into his life just a few hours earlier.  Yet, when God saved him, He may not have restored his sight, but God removed the spiritual blindfolds.  Stephen seemed to have the depth of understanding in spiritual matters that some Christians take years, even a lifetime to learn.  But to Stephen, it wasn't profound.  It was just a matter-of-fact thing.  He gave God his biggest problem, and it was settled.  A done-deal.  And that was that.

Earlier in the week, some of our team members, Larry and Karen Cuttill, were talking about how they brought with them a big bag of reading glasses for those who needed them.  Larry said that he wasn't sure if any were really needed, but God just kept nudging him to go get some.  At first he ignored the nudge, but the nudge turned into a swift kick in the pants, and he went and got a bunch of them.  The Cuttill's had already given the bag of eye glasses to the pastor, who was down in the center of the village in a leadership class being taught by Pastor Jerry and Frank.

We were scheduled to be back in Stephen's part of the village the next day, so I told him I would come back Tuesday with some glasses and then introduce him to one of the church leaders.  Remember, before deciding to invite Christ into his life, he wanted to know who was going to help him learn, so I needed to be sure to connect him with someone who would do just that.  We said goodbye, and Stephen walked back home. 

Tuesday morning, I learned of a change of plans, and my heart sunk.  I found out that Pastor Samuel (the pastor of the church in Bukabwa) had decided the team should do the hut-to-hut witnessing closer to where the church is located, and not up the mountain where Stephen lived.  Strategically, that truly was a grand idea.  However, as I assessed what was happening, I tried to hold back the tears.  You see, several things all came crashing down at once.  First, "Sanjura the Disciple" didn't come to work with us that morning, and I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to him.  I had one of our family's prayer cards ready to give him, but he wasn't there.  That crushed me.  Not only that, but it was our last day to work in Bukabwa, and I knew that if I didn't get back to Stephen that day, I wouldn't have the opportunity to do it.  Crushed more.

But maybe more disappointing to me was breaking my promise to Stephen.  You see, there's a little golden rule we all swear to abide by on mission trips: "Never make a promise."  Unknowing, I had made three promises to Stephen that I would not be able to keep, to introduce him to a church leader, to bring him some glasses, and to come back the next day.  On top of that, Jeff and I had already made plans to get a video of Stephen giving his testimony, in hopes of sharing it firsthand with our church family. 

As I held back the tears and tried to put a smile on my face to hide the disappointment, I felt God whisper in my ear, "Do what needs done this morning, and everything will work out according to My plan." 

Now, coming into the day on Tuesday morning, I was pretty sure of God's plan.  I knew without a doubt that He wanted me to keep my promise with Stephen.  Not doing so would hurt the cause of Christ, so I know it was His will for us meet again with Stephen.  I just wasn't exactly sure on the "how" it would all go down.  Now, I can be pretty persuasive...I mean "resourceful."  I started to pray and scheme, and I quickly put my skills into action.  God must have told Jeff the same thing He told me, because we both had the same plan.  Go out witnessing in the morning, and then go up the mountain to the Stephen's area and hold a Bible Study up there in the afternoon. 

Turns out, it wasn't Beth's plan.  It wasn't Jeff's plan.  It was God's plan, and God orchestrated every step of the afternoon, and not exactly according to how we thought it would all go down.  Moses, Stephen's neighbor, agreed to go with us, to show us just where to go.  Peter Ngwili, our AICT host, taxi driver, Captain, Commander, and all-around awesome chauffeur-translator agreed to drive us.  I asked Peter to ask Pastor Samuel if he could get the bag of eye glasses so we could take them up.  The Pastor agreed, and by God's perfect plan, instead of handing them to me, he jumped in the Land Rover with us.  This was not in my plan for sure.  This is better than I planned, but God had it all under control, just like he whispered to me. 

Eye glasses - check.  Church leader - check.  Visit on Tuesday - check.  Three promises, soon to be fulfilled.  Thank you, Jesus.  I could feel the excitement build with each bump we hit for that twenty minute ride up the mountain. 

As we entered the common area of Stephen's home, Peter began speaking Swahili to him.  By the time Moses was about three feet in front of him, I could see that he recognized Moses.  Jeff and I had not said anything yet, and I don't think Stephen even knew we were there. 

Finally, I walked a little closer and said, "Stephen, I promised you I would come back today and bring you some eye glasses, and I wanted to be sure I would keep my promise."  Then it happened.  One of those moments you would like to freeze in time.  A smile you'd like to capture forever.  As soon as Stephen realized I was there, his face opened up with the biggest smile you can imagine.  He stood up and I dare say trotted to meet me and give me a hug.  OK, maybe I was one the doing trotting and he didn't move that quickly, but either way, it was a glorious reunion, as if we were old friends!

Jeff and Peter did the interview with Stephen, while I stood a few feet away and listened, grinning ear to ear, I'm sure.  Jeff asked him if he could share with our church family back home about the decision he made the day before.  He talked about how we came to his home and he knew it was about time to start living his life right.  He talked about His decision to follow Christ and his desire to grow and learn more about God.  He also talked about how it's going to be difficult to grow as a Christian with the church in Bukabwa being so far away.  Then Jeff asked him to share a little on video about his eyesight and what he said in the Bible study group the day before.  Stephen repeated the same thing, that he was not going to let his eyesight be an obstacle in his life any longer.  He was going to leave that in God's hands.  It was powerful. 

After the interview, another man who was miraculously saved the day before (and now has changed his name to John!) came over, and we were able to get his testimony on tape as well.  ...but that's a whole 'nother story for another team member on another day!  I would have to add a few chapters in this book if I started to tell John's story, and this book is about Stephen Mwita, remember?

While Jeff and Peter went to tape the video of John, Stephen got to meet Pastor Samuel.  They chatted for a little while, and I didn't have a clue what was said.  Peter, the only person in our midst who knew both languages, was off with Jeff and the newly named John, so I just smiled and waited. 

Then the moment of truth arrived.  It was time to check out the bag of reading glasses that the Cuttill's had donated.  We found some +2.5 glasses, and Steven put them on and shook his head up and down with a smile on his face.  You could tell that they were helping his vision, and besides that, they looked pretty spiffy on him!  I stood about four feet away and asked him how many fingers I was holding up.  His answer, "I can't see how many fingers, but I can at least see your hand now." 

Stephen, after putting on the first pair of glasses, realizing he could now see my hand.

Jeff and I caught each others eyes, and our distraught faces likely mirrored each other.  Neither one of us realized just how blind Stephen actually was.  I started digging for some stronger glasses, and at the bottom of the bag, I found one pair with a +3 prescription.  That was "as good as it gets."  I took them out of the bag and fitted them on his head.  I had no idea, but Jeff snapped into "team photographer duty" and started snapping pictures of the event.  I'm forever grateful, to say the least. 

 

As I put the +3 on Stephen's face, you could immediately tell they made a huge difference.  A grin that spread across his face the moment he started to be able to see better stayed there until we said goodbye, and probably even beyond. 

We took some time to review the memory verse from the day before, and I tried to teach Stephen the new verse in Swahili from reading it on the Swahili version hand-out that I had.  That lasted a whole of two minutes, at best, seeing that despite my best efforts to read Swahili, I'm completely incapable of doing so.  The event made for a good laugh and a good memory, at least.  :) 

Then Peter came over and informed us of what took place in the conversation between Pastor Samuel and Stephen.  Apparently, they had made arrangements for Pastor Samuel to come up to this part of the village every Wednesday to do a Bible study with the new believers.  Once again, Jeff and I caught each other's eye, as if to acknowledge without speaking, "God is good.  All the time. "

It was about time to go, but I asked Peter to translate one  last thing for me.  I went over to Stephen and handed him my family's prayer card and picture.  I said, "Stephen, I have a lot of pictures to remember you, but I wanted to give this to you.  It's a picture of my family so you can remember what I look like and pray for us."  On the back I wrote, "Stephen, I will forever keep you in my heart."  He sat there, and I remember him pointing to the pictures on the card with a smile on his face.  He could see the images.  He could see us.  But best of all, this all this happened, only because he made a decision to let God remove the spiritual blindfold so he could see Jesus.

Amazing grace!  How sweet the sound!  That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now I am found; was blind, but now I see!

   Stephen looks at the prayer card that I gave him.  I can't thank Jeff enough for catching this on film!

And that, my friend, is my favorite story from Tanzania.  The story of Steven Mwita.  Please pray for Stephen.  Pray for Pastor Samuel and the new church.  Pray for Bukabwa.  And then finally, ask God to show you what job He has for you in missions, then go in blind faith and obedience down whatever dusty, bumpy road He has for you.

May I never forget.  May I never "move on" now that I've penned Stephen's story.  And may the miraculous salvation message continue to remove the blindfolds satan has so strongly tied on the eyes of the Bukabwan people.

--- Beth Banfill
www.GodandMe2theMax.com

 

 

Even the demons believe, and they are afraid...

"You believe that there is one God?  Good!  Even the demons believe that, and they are afraid!"
James 2:19  

"Not by might.  Not by power.  But by my Spirit, says the Lord."
Zechariah 4:6 

"At the name of Jesus, every knee will bow and every tounge will confess He is Lord."
Philippians 2:10

It was late in the morning, Monday June 11th.  We were high up in the mountains of the village of Bukabwa, a twenty minute drive by Land Rover over a bumpy, dusty, rocky, hole-filled road.  As I mentioned in an earlier post, Bukabwa had long been forgotten by the government, much because of the villager's widespread involvement in witchcraft.  Yet, even with this knowledge, I remember making the comment to someone on the team how there has been literally no resistence to the Gospel message by the people we've shared with.  Funny how things work out, because on Monday, Katelyn, Gladys, and I would have a whole new experience. 

We were already late for lunch, and we had at least a few miles to walk on a thin dirt path about eight inches wide, briers on each side, with corn stalks surrounding us, just to get back to where we would meet for our Bible study/discipleship group time.  Moses, one of the teenagers from the church was from this area, and he wanted to take us everywhere he knew of.  Although he lived so far from where the church is in Bukabwa, his parents are leaders in the church, committed to walk the long road for several hours, just to go to church.  It was past time for lunch, but Moses said we needed to go to this last hut before heading back, so of course we did.  He was our guide, after all. 

As we began to share with Niamtodo Enock, a woman whose age was likely disguised by her tanned and leathered skin.  My best guess was that Niamtodo was maybe fifty, but she easily looked as if she was easily in her upper sixties.  As Katelyn began to share, Niamtodo's daughter Mariam walked over with a hesitant look and began to interrupt.  I remember her eyes, and they were disturbing.

I'm not sure of her exact words, but they went something like this, "I don't want you to use that word here in my presence.  I don't want you talk to me.  I don't want to hear this.  I'm afraid if you say that name, then the demon will hurt me."  She went on to tell us how she had given herself over to witchcraft a number of years ago, and she had a demon inside her.  She didn't want us to speak the name of Jesus in her presence, and that was that.  She then walked away and continued to make lunch for the family. 

Jesus.  Such a powerful and strong name.  So strong that the demons are afraid to hear it.

Katelyn and I looked at each other, I'm sure with our eyes beginning to bulge out of their sockets, as Mariam walked away, out of earshot of our conversation with her mom.  She had heard enough of what we were saying to understand the power of the Gospel, and she was scared to death.  You could see it in her eyes. 

We then continued to talk to Niamtodo.  She understood the power of the Gospel as well, and she wanted nothing more than to turn from her sin, invite Jesus into her life, and ask Him to take control.  I think Katelyn did most of the talking with Niamtodo, because I can only remember keeping my eyes on Mariam over by the fire.  After we visited with Niamtodo some more and invited her to the Bible study less than an hour later, our translator told us that we were really late now, and we had to get back. 

My eyes glanced over at Mariam again, and I felt time stand still.  Perhaps you've never encoutered spiritual warfare like this, and you are leary of what I am writing, but let me tell you it's real.  It's very real.  My mind raced.  Was I prayed up enough to go address Mariam?  What would I say?  I asked God to give me strength, and before I knew it, I was walking toward her, and I remember thinking Hebrews 4:12 "the Word of God is quick and powerful and sharper than any two-edged sword."  I don't know if I actually spoke that verse out loud or thought it.  I honestly can't remember everything I said, because it wasn't me talking.  I know the Holy Spirit was giving me the words to say and bringing back every Bible verse that could be used against the enemy at that moment.  I'm sure Gladys thought I was a nut, but she must have been just as crazy, because she followed me over to Mariam and translated for me. 

I told Mariam that I was about to leave, but I could not leave without trying to talk to her one last time.  I told her about Jesus and how he shed His blood on the cross for her sin and my sin.  I told her how the only way to have freedom is by turning from sin and giving Christ control.  I remember quoting Bible verse after Bible verse, including I John 4:4 "Greater is He that is in me than He that is in the world."  I told her when we accept this free gift of salvation, Christ comes to live within us, and when that happens, a demon control you any longer.  I remember telling her that she knows it's truth that I was telling her, and the truth will set her free.  I said that knowing about it isn't good enough, that the Bible says that the demons believe in God, and the are afraid, but she had to make a decision to ask God to take control. 

I have no idea what else I said, I remember being aware of only three things.  First, I knew Katelyn was standing behind me, fervently praying.  I didn't see her, but I knew she was there; I could feel it.  Secondly, I kept looking at that open fire she was cooking over, thinking, "Lord, I know you can cast that demon right into that open flame.  Lord, please cast that demon into the open flame!"  And finally, I knew what was coming out of my mouth was from God and God alone.  There is no way this scaredy-cat girl who is afraid of even the smallest bug would have done what I did in my own strength, that's for sure! 

Then I asked her, "Mariam, are you ready?  Are you ready to give God control?  Are you ready?  Are you ready?" 

Mariam looked at me for what seemed like an eternity, and with her face beginning to distort, she broke down in tears sobbing.  "I'm ready.  I'm ready right now.  I'm ready." 

I believe in my heart it was at that moment, when she made a decision to turn from her sin and give God control, that the demon left her.  I often tell people that praying the "sinner's prayer" isn't magic words.  It's the change that takes place in your heart that God looks at.  And I think that's what happened with Mariam, because as I said, Mariam was making ugali by the fire.  She was responsible to feed not only her mother, but her husband and children, and let me tell you by golly, she was not going to stop making that lunch for them!  After she broke down in tears saying she was ready to give her life to Christ, she gathered her composure and for the next few minutes finished making the meal, served it up for her family, and then came to us to pray and solidify the decision. 

Praise God we had Barnabus, one of the staff membrers from the AIC (African Inland Church) with us on that visit.  He had not been with us on any previous visits nor any future ones, but God had him there for that one.  He led Mariam in the sinners prayer, and he prayed over her.  Then he looked her in the eyes, and said "Yesu.  Yesu.  Yesu."  Then he asked her to say it over and over, "Jesus.  Jesus.  Jesus."  There was no more fear in her eyes.  There was no hesitation, as she said the name of Jesus over and over.

Immediately, she started asking tough questions about how to turn from some of the strongholds in her life.  Immediately, she wanted to know the right thing to do in certain situations.  Her understanding of spiritual things had been so clouded by her background, but she wanted to know the truth.  We finally had to say goodbye and leave Mariam.  We were nearly ninety minutes late for lunch and already late for the afternoon discipleship groups.  We prayed.  We hugged.  And we left.  But this time, we left Mariam and Niamtodo Enock with Jesus.

 

 
Front Row, Left to Right: Niamtodo and Mariam Enock.  Gladys.
Second Row, Left to Right: Beth Banfill, Moses, a sliver of Sanjura Juma Magige (who accepted Christ just two days earlier), Katelyn Nichols, and Christopher, one of the church workers.

 

--- Beth Banfill
www.GodandMe2theMax.com

 

 

 

Cassava, Cyanide, and a Savior...

Romans 6:23  "For the wages (or payment) for sin is death..."

I had no idea what it was.  Maybe the smell of death.  Sickness.  Perhaps the smell of pure poverty.  I wasn't sure.  But this one thing I knew, the smell that surrounded me was one that I had never encountered before.  These are the thoughts that ran through my head on Sunday afternoon in Bukabwa, as Katelyn, Gladys, and I approached a hut.  Actually, a "compound" might be a better word for this area.  Several small huts, one massive family, all working together to just exist. 

Laying on a mat on the ground under a tree was Msololi Kiyonjo, surrounded by at least seven or eight adult family members and a half dozen or so children.  Msololi was barely strong enough to lift her head and greet us.  Only God knows for sure, but to Katelyn and I, this lady looked as if death's door was already knocking. 

We walked over as Gladys introduced us - the "mzungus" (the Swahili name for a white person from America) - who had come to share with them about the most important decision we've ever made.  We had a captive audience as we talked, with one sweet faced but filthy dirty girl jumping toward my arms trying to crawl into my lap.  There was no breeze, and as the sun beat down, the smell from the girl and area was so strong that in between breaths of sharing about Jesus, my mind jumped to asking God for help to not become sick during our conversation.  He answered that prayer, and miraculously, Msololi and her entire family made a decision to follow Christ that Sunday afternoon, June 10, 2012. 

There was joy in Msololi's eyes.  Peace.  Peace that only God can give in such a troubling time.  I prayed over her and her family before we left.  I prayed for God to bless their home.  I prayed for their newfound faith to grow deep.  And of course, I asked God to heal Msololi, if it was His will.  But in my heart of hearts, I just felt that death's doorstep was eminent.  I prayed Revelation 21:4-5, how now that she has made a decision to accept Christ, in heaven she will have a new body and there will be no more pain or sorrow...or death.

As we left the area, the smell remained on my hands.  Trying not to be a judgemental mzungu, I didn't want to say anything to Gladys or ask what the smell was.  I just assumed it was death, and even after a half bottle of hand sanitizer, the smell lingered with me.  Even today, my mind can bring back the odor.  The memory.  It wasn't until the next day, after passing through another area of the village that the exact same smell surrounded me.  This time, since I wasn't talking about anyone in particular, I asked Gladys what it was.  Her answer: cyanide. 

Now I'm not a chemist, but I do know one thing - cyanide is poisonous.  Gladys must have seen the scared look in my eyes, so she went on to explain more.  One of the local plants in the area, cassava, contains cyanide.  The villagers ferment the cassava, then lay it out for the sun to bake and dry.  During this process, the cyanide evaporates from the heated sun, and then the cassava is ground into meal, much like maize, to make a local food staple called ugali.  (I'm not quite sure how, but I never had the privilege to taste ugali while I was in Tanzania.  Somehow that delicacy evaded my taste buds on this trip!)

Cyanide.  Poison.  Death.  Sin.  I kept thinking about that.  Romans 6:23 says that the payment for our sin is death.  We deserve to die.  But I'm so thankful the verse doesn't stop there.  It says BUT...and I love that big BUT in there!  It says, BUT, the gift of God is eternal life, through Jesus Christ.  Only through what He did on the cross.  And Msololi and her entire family made a choice for themselves to repent of their sin and accept this free gift my Savior was offering.

God, in His infinite plan, had our little team go a bzillion miles away from Texas to share His love with this family.  Who knows how much longer Msololi will live, she may already have died.  But this one thing I do know, she will live forever in heaven, now that she's made a decision to allow Christ to invade the life she has left.  To the naked eye, sure, laying on the ground waiting to die doesn't seem like much of a life.  But in my heart of hearts, I could see she understood the decision she made.  I could see her family was so grateful for us coming to share the Good News.  Msololi now has a Savior, and that was the most important decision she could ever make. 

I love how God can turn the dreadful into good.  He can take our ugly, stinky, sinful selves and make us clean.  He can take the cyanide and poison away and replace it with His sweet aroma.  So as I reflect on Msololi, I'm so thankful today for Cassava.  Yes, even cyanide.  And most importantly, I'm thankful for a Savior who offers to anyone who receives it for themselves this free gift of salvation.  

Cassava.  Cyanide.  And yes, a Savior.  Thank you, Father!

Msololi Kiyonjo is the lady in the center on the mat. 
She sat up long enough to get her picture taken, but then immediately laid back down.

 

---Beth Banfill
www.GodandMe2theMax.com

Sanjura the Disciple...

Matthew 28:19 "Go and make disciples..."

It was the first day of witnessing in Bukabwa, and it was the first hut that I went to.  I was teamed up with Katelyn, a recent high school graduate, Gladys, an amazing translator, and a handful of local church people.  I was the designated "speaker" at the first hut.  I remember one of my first trips to Romania about 13 years ago.  Our team leader said, just knock on the door and breathe...God will do the rest.  That advice always crosses my mind just before I share at the first home on mission trips. 

In this case, it was a mud and straw hut, and there was no door to knock on.  Sanjura and Julius were sitting outside, and they seemed very open, even anxious, to hear about why I came from Texas to Bukabwa to tell about the most important decision I have ever made.  I took a deep breath, and just like my leader said so long ago, God did the rest. 

As best as I knew how, I shared the plan of salvation and what the Bible says about becoming a Christian.  I told them how I made that decision for myself when I was a child, and that it was only by accepting God's free gift of salvation, turning from your sin, and putting your faith in Christ that you would know for sure heaven would be your eternity.  Sanjura Juma Magige.  The first person in Bukabwa that my prayer partner Katelyn and I had the opportunity to lead to Christ. 

As we went hut to hut in an area that was very widespread between homes, there's one thing I noticed.  Not all people allow the change that took place in their hearts to be reflected on their face.  As an emotional girl, (yeah, I'll admit it this one time) people can read me pretty well, and if I just received the best gift of my life, the joy would explode all over my face.  But that's not always the case with the people of Bukabwa.  I observed that emotions are often guarded, and the joy on the inside doesn't always show to others on the outside.  The Bukabwan people had varying reactions to accepting Christ.  Miraculously, no one we talked to refused, but I couldn't always see immediate joy.  And how I longed to see that joy on their faces, a tear in their eye, reflecting the decision they were making. 

But you know what?  I didn't need to see the joy.  God knew what change did or didn't take place in their hearts, and Sanjura is a perfect example.  When we left his hut, we were off to the next hut about 1/2 mile away.  We walked through thickets, corn fields, briers, cattle, and just about everything else you can think of that would go with those surroundings.  I had plenty of time to think about Sanjura and Julius during that walk.  I prayed for them.  I asked God to solidify that decision so they really understood what they were doing.  I asked God to allow their roots to grow deep so they would grow as Christians. 

You see, the church in Bukabwa is about a two hour walk from where Sanjura lives.  For him to fellowship with other Christians at the church, it would take some serious commitment.  It was Saturday, June 9th, when he gave his life to Christ, and I thought the first test of his commitment would be the next morning, if he showed up at church.  How wrong I was. 

The plan for the days in Bukabwa was to witness to the people, hut to hut, in the morning, and then break for lunch.  Then the afternoon was spent in discipleship groups, often under trees, sitting on rocks for chairs, studying the Bible together with the Bukabwan people.  I was anxious to see who would come to that first discipleship group, and sure enough, Sanjura was one of the people there. 

I recognized him immediately, but Sarah, another translator, started to tell me his story.  My brain started to scramble, because Gladys was with us, not Sarah, when Sanjura gave his life to Christ, and I was quite sure I already knew his story, but it sure didn't match what Sarah was telling me.  Then Sarah went on to tell me that her team had passed Sanjura's hut and noticed he had a tract in his hand.  They knew one of our teams had already visited with him, but he looked up and asked them to stop and talk.  Then he asked them if he could take them to visit with his neighbor.  Sanjura then went on to take them to several huts of people he knew that needed to hear the Good News of Jesus Christ.  Straight from the New Testament, he had an urgency to tell others about this Jesus, his new friend, that he had met. 

Sanjura, a baby Christian, was already becoming a disciple.  How humbling it was to see this in action, right in front of my eyes.  After the Bible study time, I had the opportunity to go over and talk with Sanjura some more, through a translator of course, because my Swahili is non-existent.  (I kept wanting to revert to Spanish, but somehow that doesn't fly in Tanzania!!!  No beuno!!!) 

Sanjura went on to say that he had heard about teams coming into his village, and he kept wondering, "When are they going to come tell me about Jesus?"  Like I said, Sanjura lives quite a distance from where the church in Bukabwa is being started, so it took "the teams" a while to get to him, but in God's perfect timing, we did just that, and Sanjura became part of the family of God, my brother in Christ. 

Still, that long walk to church might prove difficult, and when I told Sanjura goodbye, I knew in my heart I may not see him the next morning at church.  I don't know if my faith is so weak as much as I'm a realist.  In reality, how many people do you know that will walk two hours to church?  I dare say not many.  Well, I walked in the door of the make-shift church after a very bumpy ride, and sure enough, there sat Sanjura, with a massive smile on his face.  It was his first time ever gracing a church, but no one would have known it.  He worshipped, he prayed, and he even came forward for people to pray for him at the end of the service.  He went out witnessing with us again Sunday afternoon, and this time it wasn't even in his neighborhood.  He was going hut to hut blindly, much like us.  He was becoming a disciple, right before our eyes. 

When I said goodbye to Sanjura on Sunday, I knew we were working in another area of Bukabwa on Monday.  This new area was in the complete opposite direction of where Sanjura lived.  It would be another two hour morning walk to the church, and again being a realist, I didn't expect him there.  No one even asked him to join us.  So what I saw on Monday morning brought tears to my eyes.  As we drove down that bumpy dirt road, a few miles from the church, we passed Sanjura Juma Magige.  He had a bounce in his step, and he waved as our Land Rover passed him on the dirt street.  He was ready once again to share Christ with us.  I pointed him out to Peter, our driver and host from the AIC (African Inland Church) and Peter agreed to go back and pick him up after he dropped us off at the church. 

On Monday, once again, Sanjura went hut to hut with us, this time sharing at every single home about the decision he had made on Saturday.  When he shared, he smiled, and he talked about how God had already changed his life and given him peace. 

I said goodbye to Sanjura on Monday and just assumed he would be with us again on Tuesday, but unbeknownst to me, he had a sick family member he needed to attend to, and I never got to really say goodbye.  He tried to tell me goodbye, but silly me didn't realize what he was doing.  He pulled me aside and thanked me for coming to his hut and sharing the Good News of Christ.  He asked how he could remember me and how he could give me updates on his growth in Christ.  I just smiled and said I didn't know when I would be able to come back, but that our church is committed to work in Bukabwa, so I'm sure I could hear updates through the team and the leadership. 

When Sanjura wasn't there on Tuesday, my heart sank.  I showed Pastor Samuel, the pastor of the church in Bukabwa, Sanjura's picture.  I wanted to be sure he knew about this newborn sheep, one that I want so desperately not to be lost in the pasture along the way.  I made sure Pastor Samuel knew he needed to follow up with him.  I told him every detail I could about Sanjura, as if I was leaving my own son in the care of a new daycare worker.  And then I left a picture of my family with the pastor to give to Sanjura, so he could share in the memory. 

Matthew 28 says to "Go and make disciples."  I went.  I went all the way to Bukabwa, in the Mara Region of Tanzania, East Africa.  Make disciples?  I can't take the credit for that.  God's love took root in Sanjura's heart, and those roots grew deep.  Sure, he watched me as I shared the Gospel with others, but somehow, as soon as he made a commitment to Christ, he started his path to becoming a disciple.   

Romans 10:14 says "How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them?" 

How will they hear?  By Christians being obedient to what God tells us to do.  Obedience.  God says go.  The answer isn't yes or no, the answer is "Where, God?"  Bukabwa is where God sent me this last week.  Sanjura Juma Magige, I dare say, will never be the same, but I will never be the same either. 

 

--- Beth Banfill
www.GodandMe2theMax.com

 

 

I Have Only Done My Duty...

Do you ever feel like you need a little extra credit for a job well done? Maybe a little more affirmation than what you are receiving? Do you want to somehow find a way to humbly brag about something really cool you've done? I've been there, and if being completely honest, most people would say they've been there, too.

I have been reading in Luke 17:7-10. "Suppose one of you had a servant plowing or looking after the sheep. Would he say to the servant when he comes in from the field, 'Come along now and sit down to eat'? Would he not rather say, 'Prepare my supper, get yourself ready and wait on me while I eat and drink; after that you may eat and drink'? Would he thank the servant because he did what he was told to do? So you also, when you have done everything you were told to do, should say, 'We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty.'"

We have only done our duty.

As I read those words, I stopped still in my reading. How many times have you thanked someone for something and they said, "No problem; I was only doing my job." I've heard that response many times. In other words, no extra credit was necessary, it was all in the 'line of duty.'

So I started to think, what exactly does this mean when it comes to spiritual matters? What is MY DUTY, in relation to God? And when I do what God has called me to do, am I being a self-promoter or a God-promoter? Ouch! Certainly, as a blogger and song-writer, there's nothing wrong with sharing the talents God has given me with others. But the difference is in the attitude of the heart. Who is taking credit for the end result? Am I out there saying, "Hey everyone, look at this cool song I wrote?" Or am I out there saying, "Let me share with you what God has allowed me to do!"? Or "Let me share with you what God is teaching me."

This is a tough one for me. I wouldn't say I'm a proud person, but I'm definitely not a naturally humble person either. The truth is, I'm a talker. A communicator. And I'm the kind of person that likes to share everything going on in my life with my friends and family. However, I've been told by a close family member that "all my talking" comes across as bragging sometimes. That's a tough one to swallow.

So back to the phrase, "I have only done my duty." What is it that God has called me to do? He's called me to obedience. He's called me to write. He's called me to tell others about Him. But when the praise and accolades come from the various "work" that I do for Him, is my heart's response, "I have only done my duty."? Definitely, this is a convicting phrase for me.

I think it's no accident that this passage in Luke uses the words of a servant in the master's home. Isn't that what we each are supposed to be, a servant? We must be serving each other, not self-serving. The words to that old Maranatha song ring loudly this morning...

Make me a servant. Humble and meek.
Lord, let me lift up those who are weak.
And may the prayer of my heart always be
Make me a servant. Make me a servant. Make me a servant today.

Father, keep me humble. Let me give all the glory in any accomplishment to You. Without You, I am nothing. Without You, I have nothing. And without You, life is not worth living. Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart always be acceptable to You. Let my response always be, "I have only done my duty."

 

---Beth Banfill
www.GodandMe2theMax.com

 

 

100% Pure

Titus 1:15-16a "To the pure, all things are pure, but to those who are corrupted and do not believe, nothing is pure. In fact, both their minds and consciences are corrupted. They claim to know God, but by their actions they deny Him..."

So as I read this morning, I was struck by these verses. I have several friends who claim to be Christians yet their actions don't match what I believe a Christian should look like. It's always a struggle for me because I don't want to outright judge them for differences in views, but at the same time, hypocrisy is something I have a very low tolerance for.

Think about it. When you go to a grocery store, how often do you see the word "pure" listed as an ingredient? 100% Pure Cane Sugar. 100% Pure Vanilla. 100% Pure Cosmetics. 100% Pure Fruit Juice. I could go on and on. But what will happen to one of those food ingredients if you add a drop of vinegar? That once sweet, pure thing turns sour. It's corrupted. Sure, the bottle will still have the label "pure" but the inside denies the truth.

Purity. In today's society, when you say that word, the first thing to pop into your mind is in relation to sexual activity outside of marriage. But purity is so much more than that. It's holiness. Seeking God. Confessing sin daily. Matthew 5:8 says "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." What does it mean? Blessed are those whose minds, motives, and principles are pure; who seek not only to have the external actions correct, but who desire to be holy in heart, and who are so. Man looks on the outward appearance, but God looks on the heart. (Barne's Notes on the Bible)

Just another reminder, as it says in Malachi 2:15 "Guard yourself in your spirit." We must daily be on the lookout for attacks from the enemy. He walks around like a lion trying to devour us. He wants to inject us with his venom so much that we've built an immunity to it, not even knowing it's happened.

No, I will never be 100% Pure love. 100% Pure Beautiful. 100% Pure Anything. Not on this earth anyway. But I can definitely purge those ingredients that are making me unlovely, ugly, and unpure. May my mind never be so corrupted that I claim to know God with my lips but my actions deny Him.

 

---Beth Banfill
www.GodandMe2theMax.com

Pulling off the blindfold...

When I was a teenager, my friend Anne and I used to take turns blindfolding each other while the other would drive around town. When we were done, the one who was blindfolded had to try to guess where we ended up. We always tried to be pretty creative with our turns and circles, so much that in the end, no matter how hard we tried to follow the turns, the guess of the final destination was usually wrong. Our sneaky lefts and rights had left the other disoriented enough to not know the truth.

That's where I was last night. Blindfolded by some sneaky lefts and rights thrown at me from the deceiver himself...so much to the point that I was disoriented from the truth.

Do you ever get in one of those moods? Maybe you can relate. Everything sets you on edge, and you have this angst in your spirit. Well yesterday evening, I was overcome with that exact emotion. I didn't feel it earlier in the day, but I have a feeling it's been there for a while...building. One thing set me off, and needless to say I got pretty ugly. And stayed that way. Even after everyone went to bed, I laid in bed, unable to sleep, just being plain miserable. Miserable with everyone around me. Miserable with situations out of my control. Miserable with my emotions. Miserable with...me.

As I often do when I can't sleep, I started praying. It's amazing when you ask God to reveal Himself to you how His Holy Spirit does just that. It didn't take long for me to see the problem. Me. (It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out - the problem is always me!) I've had a busy week, back and forth to Jacksonville, Florida, lots of extra hours at work to catch up from being out of the office, and something had to give. Unfortunately, I made the wrong choice, and the thing that "gave" for me was my quiet time.

As a seasoned Christian, I made a calculated error. "It won't matter if I miss spending a few days with my best friend. I'll catch up later, when I have time." The truth is, for me, if I'm not seeking God every single day, then I'm not growing. I went to bed thanking God that His mercies are fresh every morning. I went to bed knowing changes needed to be made in my morning schedule, and today will be different. He removed that blindfold that was disorienting me.

This morning as I sat down to read, the Lord brought my attention to these verses in 2 Peter 1:5-9.

"For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love. For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. But whoever does not have them is nearsighted and blind, forgetting that they have been cleansed from their past sins. "

"Make every effort." Hmmm...nope, definitely I haven't made every effort to do much of anything but work lately. Ok, well, maybe I've made every effort to do the exact opposite of some of these things. Truth is, it comes so naturally that I didn't have to try much at all. I've defininitely not made every effort to add to my faith goodness, knowledge (and we won't even go there with the self-control issue when it comes to my raging temper the last few days!)...perseverance, godliness, mutual affection (what's that?!?) and love. Love? I've been so blinded.

"Add to your faith." ... "Increasing measure." Not only does God give me a big list of things I should be working on here, but He says to add to my faith and possess these qualities in increasing measure. If I can't measure my growth, if these things are not being added to my character daily, then it doesn't matter how seasoned of a Christian I am, I'm not in God's will, and I have been blindfolded.

You know, most people who are blind do not lose their sight overnight. Sure, some are born blind, and some have injuries that cause immediate blindness, but the majority of people lose their sight, over time. It's a process. And that's just how satan gets us. A little at a time. He chinks away at us when we least suspect it, when our guard is down, hoping to disorient us to the truth of who we are and where we should be in Christ.

I decided I would write what was on my heart about this, and I was shocked to see that I haven't even blogged once this year. Not once. Shame on me. I love writing. I love sharing what God's been doing in my life. But it looks like that blindfold has been attached a little longer than even I was aware.

Let me never forget what God has done for me. How he saved me. What a filthy person I could be and am without Him. Let me never allow the enemy to blindfold me, even for a moment. He is the great deceiver. He will go to no lengths to make lefts and rights and trick me into thinking I should be somewhere else. I am God's child. I will add to my faith. Increase in measure. And I refuse to go blind.

--Beth Banfill
www.GodandMe2theMax.com

Who is my god? The object of my affection...

Yesterday I downloaded a new book on my kindle called "Craving God: A 21 Day Devotional" by Lisa TerKeurst.  It was free, and published by Zondervann, so I figured I couldn't go wrong.  The book is about craving God instead of food.  (At least with the given title and my limited reading so far, that's what I can tell.)

As I read the first chapter, I was quickly allerted to the fact that this "devotional" had only a vague reference to Psalm 139 with us being fearfully and wonderfully made.  Sure, the content has been good so far, but when I finished the first chapter, I definitely didn't feel "fed" spiritually.  You know, just because something says "devotional" on it, doesn't mean it's filled with God's Word.  And to grow spiritually, we have to be cautious to not fill our mind with words from good people...we have to focus on God's inspired Word.  Ironic, yes, coming from a blogger.  But true, nonetheless.

Like I said, the content has been good, and I'm going to finish this book.  Struggle with food has always been a life-long battle for me.  Here's some quotes from the book so far...

"I had to get honest enough to admit that I relied on food more than I relied on God, I craved food more than I craed God."

"Is it possible we love and rely on food more than we love and rely on God?  Now before you delete this, hear me out.  This question is crucial.  We have to see the purpose of our struggle with food as something more than getting to wear smaller sizes and receiving compliments.  Shallow desires produce shallwo efforts...The process of getting healthy has to be about more than just losing weight and focusing on ourselves.  It's not about adjusting our diets and hoping for good physical results.  It's about recalibrating our souls so that we want to change for the right reasons."

But as I contemplated the words from the book, I turned to God's book, and for whatever reason, he led me to Psalm 23.  The Lord is my shepherd.  I shall not be in want.  Interesting that the Lord led me to that.  If I am craving food, maybe I'm not letting the Lord be my shepherd.  Hmmm...  He leads me...He restores me...He guides me...He's with me...He prepares my table...

So as I contemplated the combination of my new little "devotional" book with God's book, He led me to write this poem this morning.  It's a question we each have to ask ourselves, not once, but every single day.  Who or what is our god?  Who or what is the object of our affection?  I'm renewed today with an even greater desire to keep my God with a big - G on the throne.

Who is my god?  The object of my affection.

Wake up super early, phone by my bed.
No time for breakfast, gotta get the kids fed.
Must have my coffee, can’t live without it.
Then find time to work out so I can stay fit.

Making good progress, now it’s my time for me.
Kids are at school, and I’m finally free.
On the docket today, shopping and fun.
And of course some facebook while I’m on the run.

A glance at my watch says it’s time to stop
Kids will be home soon and the floors still need mopped.
Dinner is served.  Homework is done.
Kids are in bed.  Watch out tv, here I come.

The end of the day, it’s quickly in sight.
I got it all done, with all of my might.
Almost asleep.  Whoops, gotta say a quick prayer.
Then God speaks back in the dark night air.

“Who is your god?  You’ve replaced Me, you see.
The day is over, but what about Me?
You have time for shopping, you have time for fun.
You have time for friends, but time for me, there’s none.

Who is your god, the coffee, your phone?
Is it your food, your chocolate, am I still on the throne?
Am I King of Your life, ruling supreme?
Or have I been replaced with more important things?”

“But God, I just had so much to do.
Tomorrow will be better.  I’ll find time for You.”
But the pattern continues.  Night after night.
“I’ll change, God.  Tomorrow will start off right.”

Truth be told, nothing changes until the heart is clean
With motives and sin on the table to be seen.
The object of my affection each day must be You.
My big G-God, my provider, my only love true.

---Beth Banfill
www.GodandMe2theMax.com