grace – Grace. Truth. Coffee.

Christianity Doesn’t Work for Me

February 21, 2024February 21, 2024onebouchard

Working downtown often leads to unexpected encounters. Not long ago the sun was finally making an appearance in the midwinter sky. Although the air still had a bite, I couldn’t resist the lure of the sun on my face. Sure, I had a reasonable lunch in the fridge, but sometimes a short walk to my favorite lunch destination is the wise choice.

There’s always a line at Boston. The food is the best downtown and they move folks through in a hurry, though. Even if the line appears excessive, the wait is never long and the food is always worth it. As I flew through the revolving door into the art deco lobby, I ran into an old friend. Literally. We brushed ourselves off and began to catch up while waiting in line.

It’s easy for friends to drift apart. Nothing traumatic needs to happen…we can just naturally drift when our paths stop crossing frequently. That had happened with Pete. We began to catch up like long lost brothers, sharing the latest about our jobs, spouses, and kids, and then pivoting into those hopes and dreams that seemed so important to us all those years ago. By the time we had our sandwiches and sat down, we were going deep. He always had a passion for service and for the work of the church, so that was a natural trail for the conversation to follow.

“Nope. Not anymore. Those were good times, but I’m not doing that now. Life gets busy. Kids grow up. Seasons change.”

I hear excuses like that frequently, but I wasn’t expecting it from Pete. He and his family always seemed so…engaged. Captivated. All in. I sensed there was more to the story, so I responded, “Pete, I never would’ve expected that from you. That love you had was deep. Did something happen?”

“To tell you the truth, most people are satisfied with that answer and leave it alone. I should’ve known you’d dig! Honestly, after following that path until I was at the end of my rope I made a discovery. Christianity doesn’t work for me. The last straw was when we were prepping for a mission trip a few years ago. This was before the kiddos moved out, and we were excited to go as a family. As we were finalizing the last details, we got a call from the financial secretary. The money for the trip was gone. Transportation, food, lodging, supplies, and all the other miscellaneous things that kids had been fundraising for…all gone. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t a lot of money…18K or so. Not enough to retire on, but way too much to scramble for at the last minute. We were devastated. What had happened? That was the worst part. A staff member at the church drained the account and left town. The church decided not to press charges because they didn’t think it’d be the Christian thing to do.”

“So, Dave, that was it. Seeing the pain my kids endured…the loss and the grief…watching them process the betrayal by those they loved, looked up to, and trusted…that was too much for me. I had to walk away. That’s when I realized Christianity doesn’t work for me.”

I was shocked. Although I knew where he attended, those details were unknown to me. I guess they didn’t make the news. My heart broke for him and for his family. That pain is deep. Real. Visceral, even, especially for a father who loves his family as much as I knew Pete did.

“Wow, Pete. I had no idea. I can’t even imagine how badly that hurt.”

We continued to talk for a bit. We both had hurts to share as well as some great successes to celebrate. It was great to catch up over a Cuban. We promised to try our best to reconnect more frequently, both probably somewhat aware we would again fail miserably. After a quick bro-hug, we went our separate ways back to our offices.

As I walked back my mind went back to that phrase, “Christianity doesn’t work for me.” It seemed to be working for me, even through numerous hurts. But there was something more to it I was trying to pin down. Walking that last block back to the office, it hit me while waiting for the “walk” sign. I’m not a Christian because it works or doesn’t work. That would be what’s called pragmatism. Pragmatic people go with what works, without digging too deeply into the hows and whys. For some people, they grab onto a belief system that works for them in their current life situations and goals. It works within the crowd they’re running with. It’s “true” to them because “it works.”

That’s a common way to believe. In fact, when it comes to religious belief it’s likely the most common way to believe. Even people who adopt the beliefs of their parents fall into this category. It “works for them” to believe what their parents believe for many reasons…a big one is that it makes things easier at home. What they find in large numbers is that when they move to the next phase of their lives, something other than the beliefs of their parents work even better for them, as they discover new friends and new life goals. They cling to entirely different and even contradictory systems of thought and belief in each season of life.

We have a tendency to divide the things that shape our lives into “things that are true” and “things that work for me.” The former are things like putting gas in the tank of your car, showing up to work, and keeping enough money in the bank to cover the bills. What falls into the latter are things like morality, our view of humanity, questions about what happens when we die, how we should develop and maintain relationships. All the questions that tend to be covered by spiritual beliefs–even if claiming to have none–often fall into the category of pragmatism. They are malleable and fluid.

This pragmatic approach kind of makes sense within many different religious systems (and non-religious systems). In fact, they demand it, because although they attempt to explain the way those elusive things are, they don’t claim to be empirically true or verifiable. Christianity isn’t like that, though. Christianity boldly claims to not just explain how we got here, where we’re going, and how we should live…it claims to be true. Like…really and totally true. Christianity properly understood corresponds to the reality we live in when we test it.

In 1 Corinthians 15:14, Paul says “…if Christ has not been raised, then our proclamation is in vain, and so is your faith.” Paul most likely wrote this around 20 years after the crucifixion. Not only were Peter, John, and many other disciples still alive, there were countless other eyewitnesses to the crucifixion and resurrection. Paul was inviting challenges at a time when it was still possible for eyewitnesses to prove him (and the basis of Christianity) wrong.

Back in my atheist days I would boldly (and naively) claim that science couldn’t prove the existence of God. Faith was nothing more than wishful thinking without evidence. But this claim from Paul invites a challenge from a discipline that predates science. It’s a truth that can be investigated historically, and has been.

When I endure the inevitable trials of life, I don’t walk away from Christianity. When I am hurt and even betrayed by those claiming to be representatives of Christ, I don’t contemplate if Jesus is working for me or not. I can’t. I’ve scoured the evidence for Christianity and the experiences of Christianity and found that I’m standing on solid ground even in the storms. It has been thoroughly tested and holds true. And so when I struggle and when I wrestle with doubt, the words of Peter in John 6:68-69 come to mind, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”

I hope Pete and I run into each other again soon. I know he has seen the goodness of God, and I’m looking forward to reminding him of where our hope is anchored.

Condemning Condemnation

July 29, 2023July 29, 2023onebouchard

Condemnation. It’s such a harsh word. The noble goal of our culture in recent years is acceptance. Those two seem to stand in harsh opposition. Acceptance is loving and welcoming. Condemning seems to carry with it disapproval and hate.

Recently verse 17 of the 3rd chapter of the Gospel of John has been used to condemn condemnation by positioning Jesus as the great affirmer. This verse follows the most famous verse in Scripture and says “For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him.” At first glance it appears we have a friend in Jesus in our quest to affirm and accept…He didn’t come to condemn!

There is a challenge we face if we attempt to draw that lesson from this verse, though. The Bible isn’t a fortune cookie, and so we generally can’t simply grab a sentence we like and draw broad conclusions. There is a coherent, consistent overarching message in scripture. Each historical narrative, poem, letter, and sermon provides an important puzzle piece illuminating the grand message. In short, it all fits together to tell us about God, His plan, mankind, and our purpose in His mission.

Before digging into John 3, it’s good to revisit that overall metanarrative. The story of the Bible is that God created and sustains everything that is, was, and ever will be. Among other things, He is good, He is love, and what He created was glorious. Humans were created in His image and were given stewardship over creation. God’s design for humans was for us to live in relational harmony with each other and with Him. Humans turned from God, though. Even today, we turn from Him both by nature and by our own choice. Every single one of us.

That’s the root of our problem…we were designed to live life in an intimate relationship with God and turning away has left us deeply unsatisfied, but our tendency is to double-down…even though we know our judgment is imperfect, we stubbornly pursue the paths we think will make us whole again. The uncomfortable truth is, we don’t have it in us. We simply aren’t capable of bridging the chasm between ourselves and our deepest need…our Creator. We have run too far. You might even say that in our current circumstances, we are condemned to a life separated from God.

Now snap back to John 3…that’s right where Jesus is meeting us. God–our Creator–loves us so much He sent His only Son so that anyone who places his or her trust in Him will be reconciled to God (16). Jesus did not come into this world to condemn the world (17)…it was already condemned without Him! If we make it to verse 18, it says “…anyone who does not believe is already condemned…” In verse 19 it tells us that Jesus is the light and “people loved darkness rather than the light because their deeds were evil.” That’s the story of all of us. We’ve lived in the darkness that comes from being isolated from Him. We’re comfortable in the dark and so we shun the light.

What I’ve learned from both Scripture and personal experience is that Jesus meets us where we are. Whatever lifestyle we’re living, whatever we may be worshiping, and whatever speed we may be running from Him. Wherever we are, we can simply turn and discover He’s right there with His arms ready to embrace us. He already knows us deeply and loves us wholly. When we turn to Him, we place our trust entirely in Him. It’s a humble acknowledgment that our Creator knows more about His creation than we do. Although we may recoil against some of the implications of the life He calls us to, we trust and know He is good, He knows everything, designed everything, He is wise, and He loves us. We can trust Him. And so when Jesus meets us where we are, He doesn’t leave us there. When we turn to embrace and trust Him, we don’t turn back! We continue drawing nearer to Him and following Him, even if it means our old life slips away. Honestly, we know it wasn’t working anyway. But like a childhood stuffed animal or an old, favorite sweatshirt…it can be hard to walk away from the things that gave us comfort before we knew Him.

The lesson we learn from leaning into Scripture is that Jesus doesn’t come into the world to condemn us because we are already condemned without Him. The great news is that Jesus knows us fully and loves us deeply…in fact, He is the only one who truly can. The message the world screams at us is that we are fine the way we are. We are captains of our own fate, we are the masters of our souls. These days this is called affirmation and acceptance. But true affirmation acknowledges more than just our preference and inclinations…it acknowledges our circumstance, our loneliness, our pain, and our longings. It acknowledges our weariness. And love doesn’t leave us there. Jesus won’t leave us there.

On The Road

November 18, 2020November 18, 2020onebouchard

This classic post first appeared on my blog close to 10 years ago. It seems timely today so I am resurrecting it here.

Oh the irony. I remember all those times I drew comparisons between following God’s plan and driving on the highway. How many times have I told people that when God wants you to exit, there will be signs? If you miss them, there will be more chances. Just stay alert.

Nice metaphor as long as your car keeps cruising along. I never counted on a breakdown. I suppose we rarely see those coming. Now it’s apparently broken beyond repair. No mechanic in sight. It’s sickening to think of how much work I’ve put into it, too. Making it shiny. Putting gas in the tank, polishing the chrome. This was my pride and joy. It got me where I needed to go.

So how do I keep cruising down the highway? Well, I’ve still got feet. So I keep walking that highway. It’s the direction that’s important, right? As long as I kept pushing myself up that mountain, everything would work out, just a bit more slowly than I had planned.

The road wasn’t made for walking, so I branched off. I saw a sign. I knew I was supposed to head into the woods. In fact, in retrospect I thought it was a blessing that the car broke down. I would have missed this lovely path entirely if I had continued at 60 miles per hour! I told myself I was grateful I decided to walk.

Oh, but my legs ached. They screamed. I’d been pushing so hard. Tired, hungry, and thirsty, I cried out, “God where are you?” I never could have uttered those four words from the comfort of the air conditioned car. Now they were all I had left. Still, I kept trudging along. I knew that if I just worked hard enough, I would find what I needed. I’d find Him.

The forest provided no relief. The cool shade became a chilly darkness. Between the critters and the exhaustion, it felt like there were enemies everywhere. Adrenaline provided the nourishment my body craved, pushing me forward. Lost and utterly alone, I kept putting one foot in front of the other. I kept repeating “I can do this. I can find Him.” I can’t tell you I believed it, though.

To call it a clearing would be generous. There was a space ahead where the shadows were weighed less. I didn’t know if it I could make it, but I decided that was my destination. It would all end there. It was all I had. As I got closer, I saw a bench. It was old and worn, crafted from an ancient tree.

I plopped down harder than I meant to. The pain shooting up my backbone from my tailbone was the final insult. I was done. I found the end of myself. I sat with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. No words were on my lips, I was well past anything resembling coherency. I interlocked my fingers behind my head as it sank lower, almost to my knees. The warmth of the salty tears streaming down my face didn’t do a thing to ease the shadowy chill.

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I was too far gone to jump. Whoever it was, he could do whatever he wanted. I was done. I felt him circle around and plop down beside me. The hand became an arm across my shoulders, attempting to comfort me. That arm became two, pulling me close. He held my head to his chest, like a father does a son who just lost his first pet. I could feel his tears on my neck as he gently whispered, “I’m here. I’ve got you. Now and forever, my beautiful son.”

“I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”
John 16:33

Run

January 17, 2018November 18, 2020onebouchard

“Well, I guess that’s that. It’s over.” The bridge of our friendship was crossed and set aflame. Raw emotions and bruised feelings put us on opposite sides of a river that could no longer be crossed.

I’m no saint. Four decades of walking through life has left a graveyard of dead friendships behind me. Some are clearly because of my own recklessness with the hearts entrusted to my care. With some, perhaps I’m not so clearly the only one at fault. When we draw near to others, our broken pieces inevitably clash. Too often it’s too much to bear so we cross a bridge and light a match.

Some days the weight of those burned bridges is overwhelming. I gaze over my shoulder at the graveyard and grieve. It doesn’t matter who lit the match, the gap is now too wide to cross. Although the world throws around words like forgiveness and reconciliation, they are quickly followed by demands for pounds of flesh. Somebody must pay. It’s easier and more safe to stay on our own side of the river, wandering alone down the shore. The message we hear is clear…forgiveness is impossible. Roads that split never reconnect.

As I wander alone, I stumble into chapter 15 of the book of Luke. Although this story is about family, the principle carries through. Words were said. Or perhaps the words were left unsaid. “You’re dead to me,” was communicated. The paths diverged for the two who had cherished each other. One stood firm, the other wandered off. Both were without the other. The relationship was over. Forever.

The wanderer soon learned a profound truth…life alone was miserable. Other people saw him as merely a means to an end and walked away when his usefulness evaporated. He looked up from rock bottom, gazing past his shattered hopes and remembered the one who truly loved him. But that bridge was burned. The inferno consumed it quickly and it was gone forever. Even if he could find his way back, he could never repay all he owed. He would never deserve that love again.

Even so, he wandered back toward the one who had never left… Toward the one who had firmly stood at the gate…first watching the prodigal wander away with the father’s money and heart…then expectantly watching for any sign of his return. His faithfulness was rewarded when a lone figure emerged on the horizon. The familiar silhouette in the distance brought a flood of joy. Arms outstretched, he ran to reunite with his son. The one who had wandered had found the courage to return. The one who remained behind had faithfully anticipated the glorious day of his return.

Here we learn that bridges are a horrible metaphor for relationships. Our emotions and desires are not matches setting the world ablaze. True and treasured friendships are never burned beyond reconciliation. Like the parable of the prodigal son, humility and love on both sides of the river build new bridges on which we stand. Love says “you are more important than my pride.” Love is quick to forgive and runs toward reconciliation.

Take a look back at your own friendship graveyard. Can these dry bones live again? Jesus teaches us that as long as we’re living, reconciliation is possible. He models it for us. He stands firmly and unwavering upon the truth, arms open wide and ready for us to return. The past remains in the past. We step into our future pure and fully forgiven. We can run to Him, and then we can run to each other.

Who you need to run to? I bet those arms are open wide, waiting for you to take the first step. Run, and let the celebration begin.

Derek

September 12, 2016September 13, 2016onebouchard

This is Derek. I met him a few years ago at a pumpkin patch. Although I’ve seen his family around these parts my entire life, I guess I never got to know any of them very well. The look on Derek’s face intrigued me. I pulled up a bale of hay and struck up a conversation.

“Hello, friend!”

“Hello, young one. I’m Derek. What can I do for you today?”

“You looked lonely. I thought you might like some company.”

“I’ve been in this field for years. Through thunderstorms and blizzards, tornadoes and earthquakes. I watch the pumpkins grow. I see the people rush by. After all these years, a touch of melancholy has set in.”

“But Derek, you’ve seen countless beautiful sunsets from where you stand. Plus, the work you do brings warmth to the people of this land. Things can’t be all that bad, right?”

“Young one, I do not grow melancholy for myself, but for those I see hurry by. Look at that family over there, tell me what you see.”

“Well, there’s a mom and dad with their toddler. I saw them pose for a picture with scarecrow just a moment ago, now they’re hunting for the perfect pumpkin. It’s actually a sweet sight.”

“Ah…but did you see how they rushed? This pumpkin patch is a mere checklist item for them, a chance to capture a picture, not a memory. Did you see their daughter? There was a butterfly on the scarecrow. She was enthralled by its beauty. Perhaps she lives in an apartment in the city and has never seen one before. Her parents didn’t see the butterfly…they hollered at her to look at the camera and then made her move on as soon as the shutter clicked. The picture was more important than the moment, so the moment was missed.”

“Gee, Derek. Surely it isn’t that bad. Look at them enjoying the pumpkins!”

“Watch the little girl. See her staring longingly at that cute little pumpkin with the discolored stripe? She sees the beauty in the imperfection. But dad tugs her away. He’s finding the biggest, most perfect specimen. He’s missing the beauty of the young lady’s perspective.”

“Okay, Derek, now I’m getting a little melancholy, too. I see myself in that situation, and I hesitate to tell you which side of that relationship I’m on.”

“I’ve seen you, too. You’ve been here many times, but this is the first time you’ve noticed me. You’re learning, young one. You’re growing. You’re slowing down. In a good way. There is still hope for you. There is still time.

Listen, young one. Most people walk through life with their head down. They hyper-focus on what they don’t have and neglect what gifts have already been given. A single hardship overshadows a hundred blessings. Young one, take a step back from the moment you’re in. Seek a long view on life. In ten years, the overwhelming hardship you face today will no longer matter. However it resolves, it will be in the distant past. Why worry so much about it today if it will not matter at all tomorrow? What will still matter are the relationships you have and the memories you make. Play more freely. Love more deeply. Rest more frequently. You will discover your days are full of beauty and love. You will learn to truly soak in a sunset. Even your cloudy days and darkest nights will retain a glimmer of hope, love, and beauty.

Some days you will be sad. Some days you will cry. With a longer perspective, you are free to fully feel, knowing it is simply for a time or a season. The sadness and tears will pass, and the sunshine will return.”

“But Derek, when we love deeply, we hurt deeply, too.”

“It’s worth it young one. Every time. It’s worth it.”

I walked away from Derek deeply pondering his words.. As I walked my boys over to the pumpkin patch, we meandered a bit. For the first time, I noticed the family of red-headed woodpeckers nesting in a telephone pole. The setting sun broke through the grove of trees that were now between Derek and me. After a brief pause, I picked up my pumpkin…slightly lopsided with a discolored streak right up the front. Like life, it was imperfect but beautiful.

Missing You

August 15, 2016August 14, 2016onebouchard

Just like autumn, this season cycles by regularly. Missing you.

I remember the journey…the months our paths crossed. I tried so hard to make it work. We all did.

But I was missing you. Even though I tried to love without expectation…to fully accept who you are and where you were at…I see now the impossibility. I did have expectations. I tried so hard to love with my whole heart…to pray with my whole spirit…to cling to you with all I had.

I see it now…we didn’t meet you where you were. We were missing you. We tried to meet the needs we perceived, which were different than the needs you actually had. Although we thought we were walking together down the same path, our journeys never really intersected did they? Were we one family? In my heart we were. And we continue to be. But I was missing you.

To some degree, maybe I was enamored by the potential of you. The potential of us. God had given me the daughter I had longed for but never knew I wanted. With my eyes wide open, I recognized your past, faults, and personal limitations and didn’t care about any of it. I accepted you exactly as you were. As much as I hated the abandonment and hurt you had suffered, I thanked God it led you to us. To me. Together, I knew you could finding healing. You could recover. And then you could thrive. That’s what I expected. But I was missing you.

You didn’t need transformation. You weren’t after recovery. You didn’t want a forever family. You never asked us to be one. And yet we tried to be that for you. You aren’t to blame. We were simply missing you. We missed who you really were. We missed getting to know the real person inside the young woman trying to survive. I didn’t understand that your life experiences did not prepare you for the life we threw you into. You had no context for what we offered. And yet we expected you to embrace us. We expected you to appreciate us. We expected you to love us. We expected you to try. But we were missing you.

That you managed to stick with us so long is a testament to your persistence. Or maybe it’s your stubbornness. The life we made for you was a gilded cage, though. It had peace, but you don’t crave peace. It had space, but you don’t need space. It had stability, but you’ve never known stability. It had us, but you’ve never needed us

This isn’t a right or wrong thing. You are who you are, as am I. I still treasure your heart. I still accept you as you are. The jagged and broken pieces of me tear against yours. I grieve because I lost you. And I grieve because I lost the potential of you. And I grieve because I failed to see the real you, and that is a true tragedy.

Now, just like then, I am missing you.

21

August 5, 2016onebouchard

Perhaps you’ve met my sweet princess, Christy Bouchard.

Today is our 21st anniversary. Our story sounds sappy at first glance. She taught me how to tie shoelaces when we were in preschool. We met again in High School, becoming acquaintances at 15 and dating at 16. Sticking together like glue through college, we went on to careers, babies, houses, and grander adventures. By any outward measure, it has been a charmed life. It’s enough to make some people sick. It seems like there has always been a “Christy & Dave.”

A look behind the curtain reveals the full story. Buckets of tears have been shed…a few times caused by each other, and often due to the circumstances life brings our way. There have been profound times of loss…loved ones, jobs, money, pets. Sick kiddos. Sick spouses. There have been nights we have spent wondering if us will make it through this. But we have pushed through those times. We keep persistently moving forward through those dark times until we reemerge in the light.

A good marriage takes work, and some days it feels like the world has deemed this kind of work unworthy of the time and effort. What kind of person does this?

Let me tell you about my sweetie…

First…she’s got the biggest heart of anyone you could hope to meet. She comes by it quite naturally, too. I’ve met her family. That heart not only allows her to persist through the hard times and rejoice in the good time, but it is also the kind of heart that you want to treat with tenderness when she turns it over to you. It would be a tragedy to damage something so pure and beautiful.

Second…she’s the ground to my stars. That may not sound all that romantic, but we all need counterbalance…but I’m a wild-eyed dreamer with my head in the clouds. My vision is always focused on tomorrow and I tend to neglect today. When I’m running off to conferences or early breakfasts, she helps me keep perspective on the here and now…the important things. Like showing up to work or calling the doctor when I’ve been dizzy for weeks on end. Family. Friends. Vacation. That stuff matters.

I could sing my wife’s praises all day long…

The last thing I want to mention is perhaps the most overlooked. You’ve heard about the importance of endurance, persistence, faithfulness, forgiveness, and tolerance. Those are all vital. But the one thing that has been a linchpin is fearlessness. In 21 years, she has frequently heard statements like: “let’s build a chapel in Brazil” or “let’s move to Houston” or “let’s move back to Tulsa.” We have found ourselves kissing in front of Rodin’s “The Kiss” and whipping through small towns in the French countryside in a stranger’s Volvo. Sunrises on the beaches of Brazil and rainy mountaintops on slick dirt roads in that same beautiful country. She’s discovered she has a knack for holding both chickens and babies in foreign lands. And we have both shed tears of joy while watching Christ melt hearts and transform lives in front of our eyes. There have been all those times when we have fearlessly said “yes” when everyone else told us we were crazy. We’ve seen the trajectory of lives change during those times, even as our own hearts broke.

Even more…fearlessness isn’t just about adventure. It isn’t just the things you do. It’s also a way to love. It’s risky. Looking someone in the eyes and handing them your heart unconditionally will lead to hurt. Every time. It takes someone fearless to surrender themselves fully to someone else, trusting that even if there are dings and scrapes, we will both be better in the end because we have loved. We have loved fully and been fully loved. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it’s hard. But it’s worth it. My goodness, it is worth it.

Reentry

June 20, 2016June 20, 2016onebouchard

Reentry hurts.

Picture the Space Shuttle returning to earth. The friction of the life-giving atmosphere creates enough heat to kill. The wrong speed or attitude can bring disaster.

In my mind, a drawback of modern travel is the pace. It is a wonderful luxury to be able to wake up one morning in Brazil and fall asleep the following evening in Oklahoma. It all happens so fast it’s impossible to process, though. Upon returning, we find our head and heart still remain in Brazil while our duties and obligations are in front of us in the States.

Spiritual journeys will not leave us unchanged. Even the decision to spend a few weeks overseas alters perspective. It impacts the trajectory of life. Walking foreign streets and witnessing the power of the Good News that can transcend all barriers and obstacles will stretch our faith to unexpected capacities.

My soul yearns for a gradual return from this experience. Two weeks overseas can’t be unpacked quickly. Like a good Brazilian meal, it all takes a bit of time to digest.

It seems like just a few hours ago I was walking the streets of Jardinopolis, praying as an old Catholic woman’s eyes filled with tears as for the first time she began to comprehend God’s love for her. She might spend the rest of her life unpacking this truth. Minutes later I was praying with the family of a young man who had been afflicted with a degenerative disease since birth. All eyes were swollen with tears as mom, aunt, and son all accepted Jesus as their savior, knowing we would all be dancing together in the next life.

Today, my eyes open to controversies about passwords and processes. Antivirus software and divestitures. Firewalls and F-bombs. I can feel it…reentry burns.

Like the atmosphere welcoming back the Shuttle, there is nothing inherently wrong with the environment to which I return. It’s life-giving, meaningful, and necessary. Transitioning so quickly from there to here causes the unease. My soul is split in two. I appear fully here but I’m frequently still there.

Reentry is all about speed and attitude.

So I pray. I silently pray for those who so frequently come to mind. The man we visited who was home with his two children. He chose Jesus and learned about the source of hope. The pastor working so hard to shepherd his people in a town battling darkness. The little boy with the feeding tube and his loving mom who wanted us to tell his story. The man who turned down living water and instead poured himself a glass of wine at 9 AM. Our interpreters. Our missionaries. All those who sent life-sustaining messages of hope, encouragement, and prayer from back home.

As I pray, the disparate worlds begin to align. The mission field isn’t there. It isn’t here either. It’s everywhere. The heat is a reminder that things are not as they should be here or there. The life-giving message of grace and hope is desperately needed by every person. Even here, in the middle of my normal life.

Mission is something we do, not someplace we go. Because of this, I press into the pain rather than seeking relief. I allow that yearning for where I’ve been draw me closer to our Creator who sent me. I allow the longing to draw me deeper into the trust in Him…the One who has never let me down.

I don’t have a choice about the speed. Attitude is a choice. Through prayer, trust, and perspective, the heat from reentry fuels the continuing mission.

Redemption

May 24, 2016May 23, 2016onebouchard

The past can be a weight…the magnitude of the tragedy overwhelming and all-consuming. Every time your eyes close, you see their faces. Sons taken too soon. The anger rises anew. Lost jobs are insignificant compared to the lost loved ones. Lost freedom. But you go on.

I met him on a trip. He was hired to do construction. We were building a church. We were also building THE church.

North and South Americans stacked concrete blocks, threw cement, painted walls, and tiled a roof. Shoulder to shoulder, we joyfully toiled from sunrise to sunset until everyone was exhausted. Christians and non-Christians alike, simply working with and loving each other.

Each day on the long walk home, he would pick up scrap wood and construction debris. Someday…eventually…his house would have real walls. A roof. Someday.

But God… God is a rescuer. He is a redeemer.

“…the Lord has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners” Isaiah 61:1

Late in the week a decision was made. A decision for Christ. And life became new. Restored. Redeemed. The chains shackling him to the pain of the past were broken.

Embraced by both the savior and His church, something special was found. Forgiveness. Community. Reconciliation. Hope. Life.

His house now has a roof. And walls. His precious family is safer than they have been in years. Because of a church? Because of THE church? Because of the redeemer! Jesus reached out through the obedient workers. The light of Jesus was shining through them all week. It drew him. It gave him a new hope and a new community. And the trajectory of six precious lives changed for eternity.

This post originally appeared in October, 2013. This is one of my most well-known photographs and one of my most treasured stories. The original events took place in Niteroi, just outside of Porto Alegre, Brazil. It was a privilege to be a witness to these events and an honor to capture a few moments with my camera and words. We are leaving for another mission trip to Brazil soon. As I reflect on all God has done and anticipate what He has in store, I decided to share this particular story again.

#TeamTori

March 27, 2016February 3, 2018onebouchard

Sweet baby Tori (from Tori’s Triumph – Team Tori) is healed and whole this morning. In light of this news, I have to write. That’s how I process stuff. That’s what I do.

There has always been something special about Tori. Even before her terminal diagnosis, her smile captivated everyone. It was a joy to see her on Instagram every day. And those eyes… they were a glimpse at the joy we all long for deep in our souls.

When she was diagnosed and throughout her illness, her incredible parents demonstrated to the world how to walk through the most difficult of times with faith and enduring joy. In the middle of the hardest times they have never stopped trusting Jesus. They have shown all of us that sometimes the answer to prayer is the presence of Jesus with us and the fellowship we have with other believers. We will never be completely healed and whole in this life, but we can look forward to the day when every tear will be dried and every pain will be a faded memory. While we wait for that day, we run our race with endurance, confident in what lies ahead. Confident in the promises He has made and the love He has for us. Even when this world doesn’t make sense. Especially when this world doesn’t make sense.

I’ve carried a picture of Tori with me for longer than I can remember. She has been with us as we worshiped in Aracaju, Brazil. She was the only guest that tagged along as Joey and I did our father/son trip to the UK. I have taken her picture with famous authors, podcast hosts, and even a wax figure of Sherlock Holmes. Of all the pictures, the one I took at the Prime Meridian in Greenwich, England is my favorite. The time we have here on earth is precious. Yes, we look forward to the eternity to come, but right here and right now matters, too. This time is significant, and it will not last forever. Treasure every moment. And please, please, please…don’t let another moment pass without accepting the truth about the God who created you and sent His son into our world to demonstrate how much He loves you. None of us know how many days we have. Don’t waste a single one by running from Him.

Update: Lesa recently released a book about their journey (Even So, Joy). Please consider buying it, reading it, and allowing it to transform your life and your faith. You can find it by clicking here.