Tears & Fears

Not by might or by power but by my spirit says the Lord of Hosts. Lord I am at the end of my own power, I am exhausted. My emotions are used up and I feel like I want to run away, I did in fact. I ran away to a beach but your power was so fierce that the wind whipped the sands and it felt like I was in the middle of a desert storm. Funny how I make a plan and then you blow it away and give me yours. As I was walking back from the beach I heard you speak to me. “Write Martha, I will give you rest as you write. Use your remaining energy to process what has been going on inside of you. I gave you the gift of writing to bring me glory. Tell them about my power and passion and Spirit. So Lord help me as I let out what is inside of me, may it bring glory to your name Father.”

 

This has been a week of hurts, I hurt so much that nothing can fill the ache and holes inside of me. It has been a week of deaths and losses, but in the midst of such pain I’ve had glimpses of deeper beauty than I have ever seen before. Why is it that going through suffering gives us deeper joy than ever before? This has been week of letting go. It began with the news that my dear Mimi was hurting. When you’re a missionary you give up family and home to follow the Lord. Nothing is harder than putting Jesus words into practice. Michigan feels like worlds away. My grandma has been battling debilitating headaches, blood pressure and is juggling medications to find a cure. My Mimi is one of my favorite people, she is one who has believed in me, encouraged me to follow God and my dreams and she is proud of me. She is a constant source of life for all of us. She is so sassy and hilarious yet she has depth and faith and heart for serving God. Sometime it is hard to think of life without her around. She is the grandma who was playing baseball in her eighties and the one who always had time to go on walks or make tea or give us words of humor and wisdom. I miss being able to drive to her house to play scrabble, I miss being able to be there for her as she goes through trials and pain. There is a false guilt that tells you, you should be there, you’re missing it, a fear that nags and says what if you don’t get to see her again or say goodbye…surrendering my family is one of the hardest things that I have ever done. I constantly have to give them back to God and remember that they are in his hands and that he loves them more than I ever could.

 

My boyfriend Mateo and my ministry partner and roommate Nettie left this month for a 3-month sabbatical. Sometimes when you see people everyday you take them for granted. You don’t realize how much you care about them until they are gone. I was able to see Mateo last weekend; he has been at a Monastery in solitude since the beginning of May. It was so good to just talk with him, see him and just enjoy his humor and presence. He adds so much to my life, he is an encourager and he always points me to Jesus. He is an amazing listener and he is so missed by the boys in the house and the entire community. It’s amazing to see how many holes remain when someone leaves. It reminds me that each person in this world has a place, a purpose and a legacy of relationships. I want to hold on lightly remembering that God has a plan for Mateo, I pray that his will would be done. Then there is Nettie. She asked me to drive her to her solitude retreat. We drove 2 hours through cattle ranches, horses, fruit orchards and fields to a little ranch in the hills. We explored a bit together and rejoiced about what God was going to do in her during 10 days of solitude and a whole summer free from ministry to rest and reflect. When I got up to go Nettie asked me, “do you have to go?” What a gift to have a roommate that I live and work and play with, yet never tire of. I really miss her. Our team is praying about multiplying, sending half of us to a new ministry location in the fall. We don’t know who yet, so I think right now I am getting a taste of what life is like without other members of my team. Sometimes God’s plans stretch me beyond my capacity and I am left in the wonderful state of dependence. Trusting when I can’t see, but knowing he is working for the good of all. Letting go…see the reoccurring theme.

 

Then the day after Nettie left my dear big baby (the old lady that I cared for) passed away. You know God is amazing because a mom that I had met at juvenile hall gave me the job as a caregiver when I was unable to pay my rent and bills earlier this year. Crazy because right before I was hired I told Mateo that I would never work as a caregiver again, it was too hard to be around diapers and death in India but again God’s power changes my plans At first my big baby (the name my gangsters gave my patient) was incredibly grumpy with me. She had scared multiple caregivers away through verbal abuse lol and so my boss entrusted her to me. She taught me a lot. She showed me the value of silence and just being. She taught me to stand up for myself and not to back down. She told me about love and how I should tell people that I loved them before it was too late, to ask questions and to share fond things that you remember. She softened after awhile and before my shift would end she would say “thank you & when you are coming back my missionary girl?” I shared my idea for a book with her and read to her and she told me that she was in line for the first copy. I prayed for her each shift and then discovered that she loved it when I sang old hymns to her. She asked me on my last shift, “what’s that old song? I can’t remember…” I tried Amazing Grace and Beautiful Savior but it wasn’t right. Then I thought of my Papa’s favorite, What a friend we have in Jesus. I sang it and she told me, “that’s it, that’s the one!” I told her about Papa and his faith in Jesus. She listened and responded, “I would have liked your grandpa he had good taste.” My big baby had everything by worldly standards, a 5 million dollar house, relationships with presidents Ronald Reagan and George W., her own fashion business, a husband ect. But at the end my big baby couldn’t take any of it with her. She was in pain one day, I tried to make her comfortable and I finally gave up and told her I couldn’t. I was shocked when she told me, “Jesus can heal me, you pray for me.” By divine appointment I dropped in the week before she died to visit. She told me, “I’ve been hearing that song, the one you sang me… I love you…I’ll see you, you took good care of me.”  My boss called this week and told me that she was gone. She just took her hand and flew away peacefully. In my heart I believe she flew to Jesus because she let go of wealth, prestige, position and went to Jesus as a child. Calling him her friend… I am so glad I was able to share Jesus with her learn a lesson in humility that I will never forget.

 

This week our Thursday group for gangsters had a memorial for a boy who died five years ago when he was only 14 years old. Prior to group I had the most vivid dream about one of our gangsters. He is the most hardcore of all of them. I dreamed that he was stabbed and dying, I was able to go to him and I told him. “The doctors told me that your wounds are fatal, would you like to make things right with Jesus before you go?” He told me, “no I asked him to save me before but I won’t do it this time. No I won’t repent.” It broke my heart. I remember being at the end of myself. I sat by his bed and cried and prayed asking God to soften his heart, to enable him to repent, to save him. All of the sudden I wasn’t alone anymore. Other people filled the room and began to cry out to the Lord for this gangster. My dream ended and I don’t know the outcome. I heard once that whenever God gives you a dream it is a call to prayer, so would you pray with me? That is the only way that gangs will be saved. No program, no amount of law enforcement, no bars or deportation can transform a life. Only Jesus can save their souls and transform them into his likeness.  I went into group with this vivid dream etched in my mind. I prayed like crazy and asked God for what to share that night. I decided to share verses about heaven and the bible’s promises of eternal life to those who believe. These gangsters have a terrible fear of death and facing God with their pasts. Then I thought these promises are only good for those who believe, most of these kids don’t believe. So I found other verses about how to become a believer. I watched in wonder that night as gangsters filled the room to pay respect to their fallen homie. The boy who had died had repented in the ambulance with the EMT and asked to pray the Lord’s prayer. The boys shared their memories and it was powerful. During the Bible study, one of the boys grasped onto a scripture… All our righteous acts are like filthy rags, there is no one righteous, not even one… Rebel said excitedly, “This one is so true. When I was a banger I used to wear a blue rag in my pocket, my enemies had red. We killed each other over colors, over rags. Now I see how stupid that was, we were all wrong, we are brothers…” Pony Boy told us a story from the week about death. He told me how he was walking down the street, 3 skater punks passed him, not gangsters but wearing the opposing color red in his blue hood. One of the homies from his gang had just been released from jail months before. He went up to the kid who he claimed had looked at him wrong and began to beat him and slash his throat with a knife. Pony boy who has a record, a baby and a girlfriend ran away to avoid the Pen (federal prison) and gang association. We’ve been praying that God would open Pony Boys eyes and let him see gangs for what they really are. He was sickened by the slaughter of an innocent teenager. He was enraged at his fellow gang member. He calls this world a living hell. I pray that he exits gang life before he burns out. Sometimes I feel so hard; I can listen to these stories and not cry. But then all at once the dam breaks and I am left just broken and bleeding at Christ’s feet begging for healing.

 

Sometimes death doesn’t seem fair, last night I received news that little boy that my Aunt and Uncle used to baby-sit was killed instantly in a four wheeling accident. The amazing thing was that this little boy of eleven years old chose to go to church with my aunt, even when his parents didn’t. He chose to go through first communion classes, he chose Jesus. My aunt and her family simply loved this little one into God’s family and when I think about that it is so beautiful. That’s my prayer, that we all just love people into God’s kingdom. The kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power. Nothing is more powerful than love. True loved died for us on the cross and rose again. His name is Jesus and he is madly in love with you and I. In the midst of death and loss I feel his love and presence and spirit and I am comforted. I pray that the comforter brings healing, peace, joy and love to all of the wounded souls in this world. Love conquers death, where o death is your victory, where is your sting? Death has been swallowed up in victory!

 

Broken & Blessed,

                                                                                                                                    Martha Jo Huls

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