We’ll put my Grandpa Bill in the ground today.

As we stand around his grave and wipe away tears, we’ll remember his life and celebrate his legacy. We’ll pray and laugh, reminisce and cry. And then we’ll watch as a box holding his lifeless body is planted carefully in the soil – awaiting the promised spring when the death of winter will give way to new life.

Bill waltzed into our life fifteen years ago when he swept my grandmother off her feet. Both of them had lost the spouses of their youth. Both of them loved Jesus and cherished their families. And then, as a result of God’s kindness, they committed to companionship. The way they loved and tended to one another was an oasis of grace in a parched world. Their friendship was forged through the twilight years of increasing physical difficulties, which made their devotion to one another all the more powerful.

But death is no respecter of persons. Sometimes it snatches away young people in their prime. Other times it waits patiently until the years chip away at our vitality, battering and bending the backs of even the heartiest soldiers. Either way, death doesn’t wait until love runs out. It is an intruder in our homes, shattering the shalom we seek to build. It steals away our minds and ravishes our bodies until we succumb to its cold, dark clutches.

Death is an enemy. But its success will be short-lived.

One week ago, I stood next to Grandpa Bill and read the Bible to him. For six weeks, he had been unable to speak. The stroke left him paralyzed, able to communicate only by moving his eyes or moaning softly. But as I read the Scriptures, he convulsed in tears, his mouth contorting into the best smile he could muster. I turned to the passages we had discussed so many times before.

Ephesians 1 and 2.

For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them.

Revelation 21.

And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. And he that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new.

Psalm 95. 

For he is our God; and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand. 

John 17.

Father, I will that they also, whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am; that they may behold my glory, which thou hast given me: for thou lovedst me before the foundation of the world. 

Psalm 96.

O worship the LORD in the beauty of holiness: fear before him, all the earth.

And of course, Romans 8.

There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus… But if the Spirit of him that raised up Jesus from the dead dwell in you, he that raised up Christ from the dead shall also quicken your mortal bodies by his Spirit that dwelleth in you… For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us… Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered… in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

We laughed and cried together. Journey’s end. And that’s the way it always is. On earth, the death of a saint brings tears and laughter.

Tears for of our loss. Laughter for heaven’s gain.

Tears for our present pain. Laughter for our future hope.

Tears and laughter at the bedside of Grandpa Bill as he lay dying.

Tears and laughter at the graveside where we’ll lay him to rest.

Tears and laughter in the days to come, whenever we wish we could hold him and then realize that King Jesus has him in His warm embrace.

I hate winter funerals. It was winter when my grandfather (by blood) died. There was snow on the ground when we lowered the casket into the dirt. I still remember the contrast – the dark hole, the sunny sky. The cold snow, the warmth of Grandma’s embrace.

Today will be hard. But today doesn’t have the last word.

I will smile on the inside as the mortician folds the American flag and closes the casket. How strange – this elaborate ceremony with its morbid pomp and circumstance! How sad – the sense of finality as we watch this coffin be enclosed in an even bigger case as it is lowered gently into the ground.

And yet, we know what the future holds. We know that it doesn’t matter how tightly they close that coffin. They can encase it in bronze, ensure its security, and dump six feet of dirt on top of it. And still the casket will be no match for the power of the resurrection on the Last Day.

Those locks will be undone.

The decomposition of Bill’s old body will be reversed.

The soil that we water today with our tears will be the garden where Bill’s resurrection body springs to life.

It may be winter, but spring is coming.

Tears and laughter today. Only laughter tomorrow.

Nine years ago today, Corina and I were married at Emanuel Baptist Church in Oradea, Romania. A couple years ago, I listed several reasons I am thankful for my wife. Today, I’d like to add two additional reasons that have become clearer to me in the past two years.

I am thankful for my wife because…

1. She prioritizes the kingdom of God over personal comfort.

Nine years ago, when we said our vows, Corina quoted from Ruth:

Where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God my God.

My wife meant those words. We spent the first three years of our marriage in her own country. But when the day came for us to move to the States for an indefinite period of time, she willingly said, “Let’s go.”

We’ve had conversations about the future in which she has made it clear that she would be willing to go to Africa if God called us there. Accumulating wealth and establishing comfort and security are not what appeal to her. She cares much more deeply about relationships and about God’s kingdom than her own comfort.

2. She does what she does well so that I can do what I do well.

Corina thought it odd that I dedicated my first book to her. After all, I wrote the book the summer we had our second child. “I wasn’t able to help very much with that book,” she says.

She has no idea.

My wife chose to put aside her college degree in social work and her love for the workplace in order to take care of our home and our children. Because she does so well in the home, I am able to focus on serving the church through my work at LifeWay, my writing, and my schoolwork.

3. She puts others ahead of herself.

Corina is a great cook. But if you watch her carefully, you will see that she is always concerned that everyone else gets enough to eat, even if she goes without. She has always been this way.

My wife constantly thinks of others before herself. I can’t even buy her gift cards for Christmas because she’ll spend the money on me or the kids. That is how selfless she is!

4. She has the gift of discernment.

Because she puts others ahead of herself, Corina tends to observe more than talk. Her power of observation helps her discern people’s actions and attitudes very quickly.

My wife can see right through people. At times, her gift of discernment has caused consternation on my part. I used to think that she was making snap judgments about people too quickly. I don’t think that way anymore. She has been right way too many times.

I have come to see that Corina’s gift of discernment is also a gift to me. Her analysis of a situation tends to be spot on. She sees trouble coming before anyone else does. And she is almost always right.

5. She is a constant source of encouragement.

Corina knows how to encourage me. We’ve gone through days of deep disappointment, but she has never failed to lift me up, strengthen me for the journey ahead, and remind me of what God has done in the past. She believes in me, and she lets me know it. I don’t know how I could handle the valleys if my wife were constantly doubting my ability to provide. She respects me and lets me know it.

6. She is a princess and doesn’t know it.

In our Disney-fied America, every girl grows up thinking she is a princess. I suspect that growing up in Romania was quite different.

When a friend of mine asked me what I thought of Corina the day we first met, I told him, “She’s a princess and doesn’t know it.” She is strikingly beautiful, and yet she puts forth none of the “look at me” attitude that is so prevalent in our day.

7. She is able to adapt to new cultures very easily.

Most international marriages are different than ours. When the international partner comes to live in the United States with the American spouse, cultural adaptation is rather one-sided. The international adapts to the new normal, the new tongue, and the new cultural reality of the U.S.

Our situation was quite different. I was fluent in Romanian and very knowledgeable of Romanian culture before we started dating. The reason we continue to speak Romanian in the home even today is because Romanian is the language we spoke while dating and getting married.

I spent five years in Romania. She has spent six years in the U.S. Because of our life experiences, we both know each other’s cultures very well. I’m thankful that God gave me the opportunity to know intimately the culture she comes from. And I’m thankful that God has helped her adapt so well to life in the U.S.

8. She keeps me grounded.

Corina is a great source of stability for me. She loves me without being terribly impressed with me, and I’m grateful for that.

One of the ways she keeps me grounded is by bringing me back to reality on the home front. Last summer at the SBC, I was able to sit down with a well-known pastor whom I respect. I texted her to let her know whom I’d just met. She texted back, “Wow, that is awesome!” with a big smiley face, and then, “There’s a dead bird in the yard. Where do you want me to throw it?” I love her for that!

9. She has a common-sense approach to the Bible and theology.

Corina has little interest in delving into the details of ongoing theological discussion that takes place in the academy, on blogs, or among church pastors. And yet this doesn’t mean she doesn’t have strong opinions. She does. And those opinions are based in a well-formed understanding of the Bible that serves me well whenever I bring her up to speed on a current discussion. She can cut through the intricacies of a debate and make a judgment that is (usually) quite accurate. “That’s right,” or “That’s dumb,” she might say bluntly and then back up her judgment with several biblical reasons.

Those are just nine reasons. I could think of many more, but I will save them for our anniversaries to come.

Happy anniversary, Corina! The past nine years have been the best of my life. I love you and look forward to what God has in store for us down the road.

Julia - on the last day of our hospital stay

It feels good to be blogging again, although I confess that taking this July off was not only beneficial spiritually, but also necessary emotionally. It turned out to be one of the most trying months of my life.

We began the month with celebration. Corina and I found out we were expecting again, and we began anticipating the day our family of four would become a family of five.

We were also hopeful that Corina’s brother, Cristian, would be able to visit us in early August for a couple of weeks. As our family grows larger, it becomes more and more difficult for us to afford trips to Romania to visit family. To have Cristian stay with us a couple of weeks would be a blessing, as well as a bandaid for the homesickness that is always a part of life when your marriage is international. (I probably ought to do an entire blog post about this constant sense of heart-dividedness. It was more acute for me, of course, when my wife and I were living in Romania during the first years of our marriage. It is even harder now for her, since our trips overseas have become less frequent.)

Unfortunately, the U.S. embassy in Romania rejected Cristian’s request for a visitor’s visa. We were heartbroken, but not totally surprised. This was the first trial that came our way in July. Shortly afterwards, Corina got bitten by a spider and another bug. Her lip swelled up from the bug bite and became quite painful. The doctor prescribed some medicine that began to alleviate the symptoms.

The next day, our three-year-old daughter Julia was suddenly struck with severe swelling in her kneecap. Within minutes, she was unable to walk or bend her leg at all.

Corina took Julia to the pediatrician who, afraid it might be a serious condition known as septic joint, told us to hurry to Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital in Nashville. We packed an overnight bag, made sure our 7-year-old son, Timothy, was taken care of,  and then we hurried to the hospital. By this time, Julia’s entire leg was swollen (even down to the ankle), and a red splotch had developed on her lower leg.

We were frightened. In a matter of seconds, my mind was racing through possible scenarios: What if there’s a serious infection? What if the doctors have to amputate her leg to save her life? What would it be like to push my daughter down the aisle in a wheel-chair at her wedding one day? When a time of crisis comes your way, your mind races in a hundred different directions at once.

Within hours, the doctors had ruled out the septic joint, but they were unable to stop the swelling. They had us stay in the hospital all night and they instructed us not to feed Julia until they were sure she wouldn’t have to have surgery. The medical symptoms were strange. The blood work was coming back good. The doctors weren’t sure what was wrong.

During our second day, we were frightened in a different way than on the first day. At first, we were concerned that it was something serious. Then, we were concerned because no one could figure out what it was. The lack of knowledge was disconcerting.

Around lunchtime on the second day, 24 hours after the initial swelling occurred, Julia had recovered enough to start walking again. She had also developed some red spots on both her legs. By this time, the doctors were pretty sure that our daughter had a strange, viral infection called HSP, which stands for Henoch-Schönlein purpura. It manifests itself with a rash and with joint swelling.

During our second night in the hospital, Julia’s right hand swelled up. In an odd sort of way, we were relieved to see another joint swelling. We knew that there was nothing wrong with her swollen leg, and we also knew that this confirmed the HSP diagnosis.

On the third day, the doctors sent us home with instructions. Because HSP can attack the kidneys, Julia will need to have a urine test done every week for six months. They also told us to be prepared for more sudden swelling. Sure enough, on the fourth day, Julia’s left ankle suddenly swelled to the point she was unable to walk for a few hours. This time, we knew how to handle it at home.

As soon as Julia began recovering, my wife began showing the first signs that we were having a miscarriage. For 24 hours, we hoped that this wasn’t the case. But when we finally got an ultrasound, it was clear. No heartbeat. The baby’s development was a few days behind where it should have been at this stage.

We were heartbroken. All that evening, we grieved the loss. The next day, we went back to the doctor for another ultrasound. The uterus was empty. So were our hearts. The days in the hospital with Julia had exhausted us physically, and now the miscarriage had exhausted us emotionally.

The other night, when I was putting our son to bed, he expressed his frustration at all the recent events. He said, “I just want everything to go back to normal!” I told him that it was natural to want to feel secure and in control, but the truth is, we are not in control. And during these difficult days, we have the opportunity to experience in our hearts something we already know in our heads: We are utterly dependent on God. 

During these trying days, my wife and I have been encouraged by a song by Bebo Norman, “God Of My Everything.” (See video here.) I already liked the song before this month, but the words are more meaningful to me after this time of trial.

Through it all, the Lord has been good to us. When I put the word out on Twitter about Julia, dozens of people responded and assured us of their prayers. It was so encouraging to sense the support of people who love us. We needed those prayers, and still do.

“Has it been hard to leave pastoral ministry?”

I’ve been asked this question by friends, family members, and readers of this blog ever since I left local church ministry a few months ago to begin a new role as an editor at LifeWay. The question itself is hard to answer. I immediately want to say “yes” and “no.” After a little probing, I discover that certain assumptions hide behind the question.

Some people think of God’s calling as a fixed vocational role for one’s life. If God calls you to serve on a foreign mission field, you go there for the rest of your life. If God calls you to be a pastor, that’s what you do until you retire. When people conceive of God’s role in terms of a fixed vocation, they don’t easily understand how a person might move from one ministry role to another. It seems to be a rejection of one’s initial calling.

I have no doubt that God does call people to fixed vocational roles. However, for me, God’s call to ministry was general. When I packed my bags and moved to Romania for five years, I was careful to tell people, I don’t sense a call to Romania for the rest of my life. I don’t know where this journey will lead me. All I know is that God wants me to do this task right now. The same was true when I served as associate pastor in a Baptist church in the South. The same is true for my time at LifeWay. I have not given up my calling to preach and teach. I’ve answered the call of God at this time and in this place to help launch a new curriculum for small groups that I hope will point people to Jesus.

Thoughts on Temporarily Leaving Pastoral Ministry

It’s been five months now since I left pastoral ministry to come to LifeWay. I’ve been making some notes about how this transition has affected us.

1. Relief

The initial feeling was a wave of relief. I felt released from stress I didn’t know I had been carrying. The initial relief felt similar to my brother’s return from Iraq. During the months he was overseas, even though I prayed for him often, I tried to avoid thinking about him being in a combat zone. Upon his return, I wept tears of joy and felt as if a major burden was lifted. Life suddenly became less stressful.

Leaving church ministry felt that way, even though our church experience had been wonderful. I realize now that serving in a pastoral role in a local church is inherently stressful. Even when the church situation is healthy and desirable, pastors bear the unique burden of shepherding the flock. An underlying level of stress is omnipresent. You’re never really “off.” You’re never really “unavailable.” Your family is always in the spotlight. Your work bleeds into all areas of your life. And when you have a passionate desire to teach the Word faithfully, care for the sheep, share each other’s burdens, and evangelize the lost… well, you can imagine the stress that accompanies this position, as the work is never-ending. I wasn’t even aware of the stress I was carrying until I was out from under it.

If you are a church member reading this, please – love your pastors. They need support. Discipling people can be painfully discouraging at times. So encourage them. Pray for them. Strengthen them. Love them.

2. Renewed Worship

After we moved, we began looking for a local church. As a former staff member, I felt disoriented to suddenly be searching for a church. It felt strange to be on the outside looking in, to be the stranger in the parking lot, or the visitor at the welcome center.

My wife and I didn’t have any particular preferences that we wanted to see enshrined anywhere. Our biggest desire was to find a place where the gospel was preached consistently and faithfully. Most encouraging to me was the fact that – even with stylistic differences – we heard the gospel proclaimed clearly in each church we visited. It was comforting to know that there is more than one Bible-believing, gospel-preaching church in the town we live in. But we didn’t just want a church that preaches the gospel; we wanted a church that makes the gospel the focus of celebration each week. We eventually settled on this kind of church, with the added blessing that this church is close to our home.

Corporate worship in another church was particularly refreshing. When you’re on staff, it’s difficult to focus on Christ during worship because there are dozens of things demanding your attention. In a new church setting, it was refreshing to sing, hear the Word preached, and enjoy the service. (This need for refreshment is another reason why pastors and staff members benefit from time away every now and then.)

3. Renewed Passion for Teaching

For the first few months, I didn’t miss teaching and preaching. In fact, it was energizing to not be teaching every week. After about two months, though, I began to get the itch to teach again. Thankfully, the Lord has provided preaching and teaching opportunities in recent months.

My wife reminded me that I never really stopped teaching. I have the privilege to work LifeWay, where I help create discipleship materials to assist local churches fulfill their mission. What a blessing! The day-to-day job of editing a new curriculum has been very enjoyable. I get to work with great people every day. I’m thankful that I get to be in on this new curriculum and see it launch.

4. From the Front Lines to the Supply Tent

Pastors and church leaders are on the front lines of ministry. The local church is the place where the glory of Christ is displayed in fullest measure here on earth. Seminaries, providers of church resources, para-church ministries – all of these are necessary and helpful institutions designed to assist the local church in fulfilling her mission. But they are not on the front lines.

We need people in both places. I miss front-line ministry, particularly when it comes to getting a front-row seat to what God is doing in His church. Salvations, baptisms, discipleship, mercy ministry… I get to see and take part in all of these as a local church member. But church leaders are in the middle of it all, every day of the week. The local church is the vanguard of the kingdom of God. Because I am back in the supply tent now, I miss the front-line intensity.

At the same time, I have the opportunity to see what God is doing on a bigger scale. When you’re on the front line, you’re so engaged in the current battle that you sometimes miss the big picture of what’s going on all around you. Those of us in the supply tent get a bird’s eye view of the gospel’s advance. It’s encouraging to see God working all over the place in all sorts of ways.

His Church

Leaving pastoral ministry, even temporarily, has been a challenging step for me and my family. But we have been blessed beyond measure in taking this step.

When I think back on the years we spent in our church, I am reminded that it was never my church. It was always Christ’s. God gets all the glory for anything good that came out of our time there. He is the One who is faithful. He is the One who promises to preserve the people who will glorify His name. And that song of praise was resounding from the church long before I got there and it will continue long after I’m gone. Praise to the King!

There are a variety of ways to read the whole Bible in a year. In 2011, I plan to follow a new chronology organized by George Guthrie. It’s called “Read the Bible for Life One-Year Chronological Reading Plan”. See info below and download a pdf of the plan.

In this plan, the material of the Bible has been organized to flow in chronological order. Since exact dating of some materials or events is not possible, the chronology simply represents an attempt to give you the reader the general flow and development of the Bible’s grand story. Some passages are placed according to topic (e.g., John 1:1-3 in Week 1, Day 2; and many of the psalms). There are six readings for each week to give you space for catching up when needed.

Here are a couple of typical weeks:

WEEK 1

Day One

• Genesis 1-2

Day Two

• John 1:1-3
• Psalms 8; 104

Day Three

• Genesis 3-5

Day Four

• Genesis 6-7

Day Five

• Genesis 8-9
• Psalm 12

Day Six

• Genesis 10-11

WEEK 31

Day One

• Isaiah 59-63

Day Two

• Isaiah 64-66

Day Three

• 2 Kings 21
• 2 Chronicles 33

Day Four

• Nahum 1-3

Day Five

• Zephaniah 1-3

Day Six

• 2 Kings 22-23
• 2 Chronicles 34-35

The past two weeks have been a whirlwind. In the midst of all the activity, our family has closed an important chapter of our life. Yesterday, we bid farewell (or at least “see you less frequently”) to the good people of First Baptist Church in Shelbyville, TN. We will always look back on our four years in Shelbyville with gratefulness.

Today, I begin my new position at LifeWay, where I will be developing a new small group curriculum. Since the news came out that I was going to LifeWay, I’ve received numerous emails encouraging me in this endeavor. I am excited to hear personally from church leaders who desire Sunday School curriculum that is theologically robust, Christ-centered, mission-driven, and focused on the grand narrative of Scripture.

In the years I’ve taught small groups, I’ve always sought to develop lessons that are deep, but not dry. It’s a great privilege (and an awesome responsibility) to think about developing this kind of curriculum on a larger scale.

Please be in prayer for me and my family. We moved into our new home on Saturday. We said goodbye to our church family yesterday. And I am beginning my new job today. So much has taken place in the past two weeks that we have had little time to process the events and the major life change we’ve just made. Pray especially for our kids.

As I settle into the new job, I’m going to rerun some posts this week. (With four years of blogging behind me, it won’t be too hard to find some good material on the proverbial shelf.) I plan to keep up with new “Worth a Look” posts each day. Thanks for reading. And thanks for your prayers for our family during this time of transition.

On Friday, Ed Stetzer announced that I am undertaking a new assignment – editor of a new curriculum from LifeWayChristian Resources.

As one of the largest providers of Christian resources in the world, LifeWay plays a unique role in spiritual formation and discipleship. I am excited about taking part in the launch and development of a new curriculum for small groups and Sunday School classes.

My wife and I believe that this position will be a good use of my gifts in the coming years. After much prayer and counsel, we are ready to take this step.

Yesterday, I announced to our church that the Lord is directing our path into a new avenue of ministry. It is a blessing to see how God providentially places people in our path, people who play important roles during key moments in life’s journey. If you look back over your life, you can think of people whose paths crossed yours, for a certain time and in a certain place and for a certain purpose. First Baptist Church of Shelbyville, TN has been such a place for us.

In the four years we have been in Shelbyville, I have learned about church administration, about teaching and preaching, about reaching out to the community, and about the love of a healthy congregation. Our departure is bittersweet. We are sad to leave our church family; yet we are excited about what God has in store for us.

The opportunity to develop curriculum at LifeWay is very exciting to me personally. For a long time, I have wanted to use a curriculum that was theologically robust, mission-focused, and centered in the grand narrative of Scripture: material that connects the dots from all the stories of the Bible to the great Story and the great Savior at the center of it all. I’m thankful that the Lord is giving me the opportunity to launch this curriculum line, and I pray that it will be of great service to the Church.

Ed includes some more details about the curriculum launch:

Curriculum lines are an opportunity for significant ministry. It is the medium that explains a biblical passage to thousands upon thousands of people. For example, one of our dated curriculum lines (there are multiple lines for adults) has a million users every Sunday. It is amazing that a small team of people can be used in such a broad manner to influence others for the gospel of the kingdom.

LifeWay will be starting a new line that is called, at the moment, “Telios.” That may or may not be the final name, but it is our working name for a new curriculum that will be theologically-robust, mission-driven, and built around the narrative of the Scriptures. We will be pulling together an advisory team to help us consider how best to do that– expect more on that soon. We’ll also be asking for input on this curriculum from our readers here and at Trevin’s blog.

I will be serving as General Editor of the curriculum line but the hard work will be done by Trevin as the editor. We are excited to have him on the team.

I’ll be giving periodic updates on the development of this new material. In the meantime, please be in prayer for me and my family as we make this transition. We need your prayers as we get ready to serve the kingdom in a new way.

Today I turn 29. A birthday is a good opportunity to reflect upon the past year and look forward to the next. Any birthday that ends in 9 is a good opportunity to look back on the previous decade.

My wife and I were talking recently about our twenties, and we realized that for me, this decade can be divided in half.

• Five years in Romania; five years in the States.
• Five years getting my bachelor’s degree; roughly five years getting my masters.
• Five years writing devotional thoughts and journal entries; five years writing a blog and (by the time I turn 30) two books.
• Five years serving Romanian churches; five years serving in the U.S.

As I get closer to closing out my twenties, I am filled with gratitude. Every now and then, I listen to the stories of guys my age who have recently gotten married, had kids, and are starting to find their way back to churches they left during their college years. I’ve seen others cry tears of remorse and regret at having wasted many years. Where did my twenties go? they ask. All the factors that the sociologists point to (the party scene, extended adolescence, employment difficulties) only reveal part of the story. Sin is what ultimately lowers the expectations for our generation.

But though that could have been my story, it’s not. So I’m thankful. I’m glad that God preserved me from wasting the past decade in the pursuit of fleeting pleasures. I get choked up when I think that God chose to save me, and then he gave me the awesome privilege of serving him and the church.

That’s not to say that I am better than anyone else. No… sin is often subtle. My temptations resemble those of the older brother in the story of the prodigal son. I battle self-righteousness, pride, and self-centeredness. I find myself drifting back into a moralistic understanding of the gospel, and so I feel the constant need to splash the cold, but refreshing water of gospel truth in my face every morning.

But I am grateful that – in the sovereign plan of God and because of his grace alone – he put me on a path that kept me from wasting my twenties. He has given me much more than I could ever deserve: a beautiful wife, two precious children, a wonderful church to serve in.

Sure, there have been challenges and heartaches:

• Learning Romanian and adapting to a new culture…
• leaving a position of ministry in 2002 that had become (perhaps idolatrous) too big a part of my life…
• leaving Corina’ s family and most of our possessions behind in Romania when we moved back to the States with just a couple of suitcases in 2005…
• the sad feeling of rootlessness and ministerial uselessness during our first year of seminary…
• and right now, being far away from Corina’s father during his time of illness.

But God has proven faithful in the midst of the joys and the heartaches. And as I enter the last year of my twenties, I am challenged to not become too comfortable.

September marks ten years since I hopped on a plane with a one-way ticket to Romania. When I read my journal entries and think back to that little 19-year-old guy, naive and inexperienced but ready to win the world for Christ, I ask myself, Do I have that passion today? Could I leave everything and go?

I’ve got a wife and two kids now, a wonderful place of ministry, Ph.D studies on the horizon, a second book I’m working on. Corina and I have talked about it numerous times: Could we just up and go? We’ve both done it before. Could we do it again? No matter the cost?

I want the answer to be yes. But I realize that sometimes, the bigger sacrifice for a missionary’s heart is to stay put, to continue to (in the words of Kevin DeYoung) plod along and remain faithful in small things.

The more I grow, the more I want that fire I had ten years ago, though contained now and chastened, to continue to burn in me. I hope that the growth of the last ten years and the maturity that comes with ministering for a decade will only fuel that blaze, but that it would burn in ways that bring glory to Christ and his kingdom.

In Holy Subversion, I briefly recount the conversion story of my father-in-law, Florin Trifan. Bro. Trifan was a Communist party member in Ceausescu’s Romania back in the 1970′s. Sent to spy on a Baptist revival meeting, he heard the gospel and trusted Christ. He then abandoned Communist ideology and eventually became a pastor.

In 2007, we were fortunate to have Corina’s parents visit us here in the U.S. The videos below (part 1 & part 2) are of Bro. Trifan giving his testimony at our church (I’m the translator). I encourage you to listen to his story.

Bro. Trifan is currently battling throat cancer. He has been through an operation, three rounds of chemotherapy, and he will start radiations in the next few weeks. Please pray for him and for our family during this difficult trial.

Those of you who follow me on Twitter may already know that my wife’s father has been diagnosed with cancer. His situation is serious, and he will begin radiation treatment this week. Corina and our 21-month-0ld daughter Julia left for Romania yesterday to spend a couple weeks with her family. Timothy and I are sticking it out at home for now.

We’ve always known that we could wind up with ailing parents in the U.S. while we are in Romania or with ailing parents in Romania while we are in the States. People with international marriages face this kind of trial often.

What we didn’t expect was for Corina’s dad to get a bad diagnosis so soon. He’s only 60 and has been in good health all his life.

Reflecting on the difficulties of this present moment for us, I am beginning to see trials as “fiery windows.”

Why windows? Because they reveal to us the faith we have (or too often, our lack of faith!).

Why fiery? Because they not only reveal our faith, but they refine our faith as well.

So I’m up against a windowsill that’s burning, and this is what I see:

• I see that we have too often assumed that we are in control. We think we are in charge, and it shows in the way we make decisions and map out our future.
• I see that we take for granted our health and relationships. We’ve always thought that since there’s longevity in our genes, we wouldn’t have to worry about death snatching a loved one for at least another couple of decades. But God is in charge of our future, not our genes.
• I see that our prayer life is not what it should be. We pray, but too often without a sense of holy desperation.
• I see that we desperately need God’s wisdom in making good choices.

Here’s a sampling of some of the tough questions we’ve wrestled with and for which we needed wisdom:

• Do we try to bring Corina’s father here, hoping he might have better medical care?
• If he comes here and takes a turn for the worst, how do we get him back home? Would he want to end his life away from home and from his friends and family?
• If our whole family goes to Romania, what would that communicate? Would he assume that our visit means his situation is so grave that it’s not worth fighting for life?
• Should Corina go now, while he is still relatively strong? Or wait until he’s worse and go later?

There are no easy answers. There are no quick solutions. What’s needed in a case like this is not the discovery of what is right or wrong, but the need for God-given wisdom to make the best choice out of a number of options.

• I see the beauty of God’s people. Last Saturday, Corina and I were in tears most of the day at the thought of her being away for two weeks. But we spent time with my family on Saturday night and then with our church family on Sunday. We came away feeling refreshed, renewed, supported, and strengthened by God’s people. We’ve already received cards and gifts. A number of ladies in the church want to bring me and Timothy food while Corina is away. It has been wonderful to sense the arms of God around us through the actual arms of people in our congregation.

This trial has been fiery, and it is only beginning. But through this time, Corina and I have begun to sense our need for renewed dependence upon the Lord. We are in God’s hands. “We’re all terminal,” as my mother would say.

My father-in-law has been an example of faith. He believes God can heal him. He believes in God even if he stays sick. “If God wants me home, no doctor can keep me here. If God wants me here, no disease can overtake me.”

Our biggest prayer through all of this is that we will come out the other side looking more like Jesus. It hurts. We ache. We worry. We cry. But the arms of God are strong, and that’s what keeps us going.