![]() In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. 1 Thessalonians 5:18. I watched as the elderly man got out of the car. He needed help of course as he grabbed the side and leaned forward. He looked around, unsure of where he was. He saw me watching and said hello. He asked who I was, was I having a nice day. He had the kindest eyes and such a warm smile that I could not look away. I told him my name, and he asked if I knew this place. I said, I love this place and eat here quite often. As we walked slowly, he shuffled his feet, holding the cane, concentrating so he would not fall. He laughed easily and squeezed my hand, thanking me because he did not know where to go. When he eventually made his way to the table, he sat down with the same effort he used leaving the car. Happy to be out of the cold wind, he thanked me once more and I walked away. His wife was with him and her patience and love for him were obvious. She told him he did not have to remember. She was with him. She might have been tired, but she showed him respect and moved the plate of food so he could reach it easily. As he took his fork, his wife reminded him, Sam, please say grace? He looked up startled, but quickly responded with, Of course. He bowed his head and prayed, Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for this and all our many blessings. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen. His voice was clear and certain, so different from our conversation before. His wife smiled. I will never forget eating the Krystal hamburgers at my grandparents’ house. Daddy Sam might not have recognized me, his oldest granddaughter, or his home for nearly fifteen years. However, he did remember how to thank his Heavenly Father for the blessings in his life. One of my greatest joys was being his granddaughter. Now, even a year later, I can still recall precious moments with him. I close my eyes; Daddy Sam sings as he grasps my tiny hand. I see the moon, and the moon sees me. Please Mr. Moon don’t tell on me. I close my eyes; we are searching for our next adventure in his camper. Years later, I learn to drive the stick shift in his blue 66 Mustang. The windows are down, and we sing with Elvis on the radio. We dance. He patiently teaches me how to waltz, so I know what it feels like to dance with a man who loves me. I close my eyes; I hear his strong voice reminding me to be grateful. I hear the echo of his practical advice that guards my decisions. If you have your family, then you have everything you need. If it breaks, fix it -yourself. If you pay for everything with cash, you will always have money. Take care of your health. I close my eyes; Daddy Sam does not brag that he entered Paris during the liberation of France during World War II. Instead, he vividly describes how his older brother Harold parachuted into France on D-Day and was captured by Germans. I close my eyes; I am at the back door of their Richwood home. Daddy Sam grabs his straw hat as he goes to cut grass. I turn to see him coming around the fence from tending his garden. He greets me with Hey Baby, you want some cucumbers or tomatoes? I stand in that doorway of my childhood and see a man fiercely in love with my grandmother, Marjorie. I close my eyes; I am sitting by his bed. When he looks at me one last time, I thank him. I tell him I am grateful for this precious moment, for holding his hand, and for our beautiful years that I was his granddaughter. I thanked God for allowing me to see His glory even in the life and death of this dear man. Daddy Sam was like the young man in the bible who quietly offered his fish and loaves of bread to Jesus as he faced a hungry multitude of people. A constant and gracious provider, Jesus took that humble offering from the boy and made a miracle of provision from it. In the same way, Jesus took what Daddy Sam humbly offered – his life of love and service to his family, country, and community- and richly blessed him with 96 years here on earth. Daddy Sam had a life well lived, a life well-loved.
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I personally prefer for God to speak directly to me and give me an assignment. I generally forget the next step—that it will take a lot of adjusting on MY part. I don’t mind adventures to other countries. Most people understand a love of travel, but I have a love of going on mission.
In 2010, I packed three ridiculously heavy bags and boarded a plane to Costa Rica. Panic struck and my intrepid nature began to falter. Where will I find confidence to share my faith in Spanish? I continued to push through every thought of inadequacy. Yet fear found fire. My cell phone didn’t work. My calling cards were useless. I was cut off from Facebook and my people at home. I held back tears as I searched in vain for Diet Coke. I was forced to beg teenagers in our group if I could borrow IPods to communicate with my husband in the States. I was about to turn 40 years old! Even after ten years, those teenagers who are now beautifully grown with families still tease me, You gonna cry? On day two, I hiked humid dirt alleys to worship behind ghetto fences. Terrified yet transfixed, I sat on a faded plastic chair humbled beyond words. A local minister and former gang member preached Forget Not! He reminded me that my present condition on earth will not surpass my position in Christ. Condition v. Position The preacher read from Psalm 103: Praise the Lord, my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name. Praise the Lord, my soul, and forget not all his benefits David Platt also informed me in Radical that God delights in exalting our inability. He intentionally puts us in situations where we are face to face with our need for him! In Costa Rica, all my inabilities were exalted. I was emptied out of ME and was now ready for HIM. I became renewed as I praised his Holy name. I surrendered my condition and chose my position in Christ. The next day, I dug a really big hole that became the support column to a porch entrance of an orphanage. I played a VBS game with a group of little girls who had once been sold as prostitutes by their parents. I sat on the flooded concrete floor of a worship hall with a four -year girl named Sailing. She found me immediately and questioned me. She asked me why I came to see her if I had a family at home. I explained that God wanted me right there at that moment with her. All this talking in Spanish and she held my hand, whispering thank you. God accomplishes His purpose through those He calls. It could have been anyone at that church with Sailing, yet I had said yes to going. I was right where God wanted me - doing what He asked me to do. Henry Blackaby said it best. You cannot stay where you are and go with God. Blackaby also explains that adjustments are always going to be necessary when God calls you. This happened countless times in the Bible. Some people might not like adjusting their lives to God’s plan. I must remember that I find my confidence in Him- for His Glory. When we surrender to God, we make the adjustments and changes He asks of us. He will not abandon us. Ella skipped toward France’s beloved Louvre Museum dressed in a classic French look of a white cape and beret. I pondered how to prepare this precocious nine-year old for the world’s greatest collection of art she would soon encounter.
Do I shelter her? Cover her eyes? That seemed hypocritical. Two years before, Ella traveled with me on a mission trip to Costa Rica. She witnessed extreme poverty and embraced a different culture. She opened the eyes of her soul. Do I now tell her to shut them tight? Yet, I cringed at memories of her older sister’s first visit to Paris, involving three young teens, selfies, and nude art. I braced, Ella, you will see amazing things. Take it in, giggle all you want, but ask questions. Exasperated, she peered at me, pulling down enormous sunglasses she had purchased on the street near Sacré Coeur. She rolled her eyes as only Ella can. Room after room gave way to hundreds of necked men, women and cherubs. A mom’s nightmare. A teacher’s ideal classroom. We should’ve stayed in the gift shop. Ella’s hand gripped mine as we pushed through hordes of visitors. When we finally elbowed our way toward Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, Ella considered thoughtfully. Glancing left and right, she studied faces of foreigners and shrugged her shoulders. Mama, they don’t get it. It’s pretty, BUT look behind us. They are missing that! The incredible Wedding Feast of Cana stretched across the opposite wall, illustrating countless stories. Secretly thrilled at her perceptive nature, I maneuvered her towards another gallery. I was feeling optimistic. In fact, this was going quite well. Suddenly, Ella gasped, horrified. She hissed, What is baby Jesus doing to that woman? Who paints babies kissing boobs? I laughed loudly, making her angrier. I whispered explanations that she too nursed as a baby. Ella made a face I had never seen before and stalked towards an impressive landscape of thousands of dying horses on ancient battlefields. Without warning, Ella reached across velveteen barriers, pointing to the twisted stallions and touching this 300-year-old painting. She simultaneously tripped 300 silent sensors. Screaming security rushed our way. Oblivious to this immediate chaos, she marveled at me. Mama, look at this one! So many different faces on those horses! It’s a good thing I speak French. I am grateful that our God always makes something marvelous in the middle of a mess.
There was a red suitcase that I was forced to abandon in Haiti last year. I have asked myself for months why leaving that bag mattered so much? I have left dozens of bags and dozens of clothes on mission field before. I felt more agony over deciding what to leave in that bag and what to take than I did in evacuating in a helicopter from an area filled with unrest. This red bag had been with me for every mission trip overseas I had made for 10 years. It was my grandmother’s old carry-on and my symbol of independence and purpose. Memama supported me in my mission travels by quietly encouraging my adventurous side. The red bag represented freedom to pick up and go. Losing the bag meant losing control. It was also another unexpected goodbye to her; she died several years ago. Ironically, that night as I hovered over the bag choosing items, I clearly heard her fussing at me, Don't be silly- you can always buy another bag! Sighing, I untied the strip of fabric she had placed on it so many years ago. The worn faded piece of cloth that her hands had touched. Now that precious piece of cloth reminds me of the Haitian people who ministered to me. I was a stranger and they let me in. I was hungry and they gave me something to eat. I was thirsty and they gave me something to drink. I needed shelter that night. They continue to inspire me today because their light shines in a great darkness. So much chaos and heartache, and so many opportunities to take an old red bag. But they didn't. A friend messaged me with the picture of it few weeks ago. He explained that those same people kept all our bags safe for an entire year. They are waiting for us to return. What does that say about their character in Christ? How they are living into their faith with an incredible light of His word in such desperate conditions? God's word in Isaiah tells us, You will go out in Joy and be led forth in Peace. (55:12) What is your heart seeking? How do you go out in joy and be led forth in peace? Even if you feel you are walking in deep darkness? Sometimes you have to wait by the well. Nothing satisfies my soul and brings me peace like the living water of Jesus. To saturate my soul with this water, I must also sit quietly by the well accepting His timing. I must choose prayer so that the debilitating effects of noise pollution will not block out His voice. The book Overcomer refers to praying as “the Holy Hush” of getting God’s oxygen into our lungs. Imagine yourself sitting by this well waiting with Jesus. Be of good courage. Accept His timing while waiting in faith. That book Overcomer also says, “When we get stressed and our challenges mount, our tendency is to exert strength and get busier and lean into habit of constantly managing things.” This phrase could come direct from the pages of the not so famous novel- The Story of JoAnna’s Life! Be willing to do what needs to be done even when no one is watching. Be ready for the tough stuff. Pause to serve and encourage and let the world see Christ in us. John McArthur said, “It is when believers are out of answers, confidence, and strength with nowhere else to turn but to God that they are in a position to be most effective.” There is so much tension between obedience and trust. When we choose to surrender control (or a red suitcase), God suddenly has room to work through us. He gives us His strength and our dehydrated souls are restored. God will make something marvelous out of the mess. So, while sitting at this well, Be filled with the Holy Spirit. Living water provides Peace in Christ in the midst of chaos. Living Water helps us be genuine Christians, compassionate to each person in our path. What is my heart seeking? For the Lord to make me an instrument of His peace. To live into my life- a life worthy of the calling I have received. If others are watching to see if we will shine, Let them see a light that gives glory to God- Bigger, Radical, Extreme Light A crazy love for Jesus! ![]() I was born first – the first great-granddaughter on both sides of my enormous Southern family. Blessed with immeasurable love and tradition, I embraced their myriad of high expectations, endeavoring to excel at school while mastering ballet, basketball, piano, and choir. I seamlessly integrated theatre, cross stitch, recitals and horseback riding into my childhood. I became well read, well-traveled, and soft spoken yet strong enough to handle a .410 shotgun I received on my eighth birthday. I could marvel at a ballet production of Swan Lake and hunt for ducks in the same weekend. As this good Christian girl, I dared not rebel; I strayed. I chose Auburn over Georgia and French Studies over MBA. Six years after an incredibly expensive wedding (twelve bridesmaids), I managed the first gut wrenching divorce in the family. Eventually, I did remarry, introducing my family to the concept of step. The contradictions continue. I even turned Baptist in a family of Methodists. Yet, my identity is irrevocably connected to my baby sister, Amy, a belated present on my fourth birthday. She is Barbie doll, cheerleader, and hot sauce- a sassy hummingbird in high heels. I am, well, not any of those things. She worries while I take unnecessary chances. She cooks and nurtures, using thoughtfulness to see what must be done. I embrace take out and tough love, imagining how things can be different. She asks, Where are you going now? I respond, Will you go with me? Early on, I took responsibility for our criminal activity, suffering blame when she drove our gold station wagon into the side of Mama Jo’s garage. I mastered my parents’ signatures for weekly sign and returns. During covert pre-Christmas operations, I guarded while she moved with ninja speed around our tree, opening and inspecting our gifts. When times were tough in college, we kited each other’s checks. After Daddy gave his kidney to Mama, we silently hovered over their beds, waiting to be needed. We didn’t fight; it was forbidden. Instead, we angels schemed, covering for one another, and praying all the while. We still do. It is worth mentioning that Amy and I are both intentionally blond, and we pay good money for it. One glance, one grin, and our laughter will erupt at inside jokes. We can never sit together at church, weddings, or funerals. How she loves that I’ve even been mistaken for her mother twice in the same week! We are also teachers, growing up in a family full of them. Many of the inspirational ideas I have about teaching elementary kids come from Amy. She selflessly shares the best of our profession. Amy can be found zipping about in her classroom with a highly tuned sense of control. She doesn’t miss a thing as she hovers over her kids, mesmerizing them with her kind, beautiful smile and dynamic personality. Yep. I’m still a goose, but my baby sister is a hummingbird. |
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JoAnna Arnold
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