Vocation, Day 3

Vocation, Day 3

Looking Back

I remember the day he started at the church. I went in to meet him. He was different than I had pictured, much taller. His name is Matt Smith. He was starting his position as the College Ministry Pastor. The short time he served at our church, he taught me and no doubt hundreds of others, what it meant to be "in love" with God. He served along side my husband and Pastor Jim, the Student Ministries Pastor. The three of them formed a tight bond and we joked many times that Jim was the Father, Dale, the son and Matt the Holy Spirit. Of course we were not trying to put them in the position of the true trinity, but they complemented each other by their ministry abilities. Knowing Matt meant that you were going to learn something from him. It also meant that you could tell right off that he was family, but that he was not going to remain at the church forever, he was called to bigger, greater things and eventually God caught his attention. After convincing half the church that we should give up the worldly view of Christmas and buy livestock for families across the country we will probably never meet, Matt announced he was going to Africa. This last year we had the privilege to pray for Matt as he went on his journey to respond to the call in his life. Matt is back and wrote a great letter for us all, I wanted to share it with you. Hopefully you will be as blessed as I was reading it. Maybe you will even visit his blog site to read more about his calling. Please take a moment to read the letter he wrote:

Dana Da ru, (Amharic for: How are you?)
It is Saturday afternoon in Sisters, Oregon and I'm behind a big bay window that opens up to a view of roaming horses, rippling water, and floating leaves. The last whisper of falls warmth has said good-bye and winters chilly dry breath has settled in over this small town. Tiny trout are splashing around with freedom before the freeze sets in and the sky is sparkling with a never-ending misty blue. It's scenic and it's peaceful and it's perfect.
It has been eight weeks to the day since I set foot back on American soil. I have sequestered myself in the woods of central Oregon desperate to be alone and quiet and thoughtful. The chaos and misery and overwhelming reality of life in Addis Ababa created a deep reverent desire for stillness and rest. I learned that my life has always been a chorus of voices clamoring for my attention. This summer voices of the past came back and collided with hopeful whispers from the future. And in the middle they met the voice of the present standing stubbornly on patrol. In the ringing calamity of it all was the soft glow of eternal truth and it is that voice for which I long. It is for that voice that I wait and pray and rest and listen.
I have discovered during the last eight weeks that the previous twelve weeks in Ethiopia were a contradiction in terms. It was draining and fulfilling. It was exhausting and energizing. It was heart breaking and life giving. It was tragic and beautiful. It was everything I expected and nothing I assumed.
This journey began with a yearning for transformation. I had numbers and statistics about poverty piling up in my head and I felt like they were driving me towards a theoretical meltdown. So I stepped off of a plane in Addis Ababa and spent twelve weeks walking the streets of Africa. Our time on the ground with homeless orphans helped me to find the names behind the numbers. Every statistic I had committed to memory is now a story with a heartbeat.
I came to understand that poverty is both tangible and intangible. There are physical things, like using a street for a toilet, sharing a cramped concrete slap for a bed, and not having money for toothpaste. There are also invisible obstacles such as mental exhaustion, psychological warfare, and a condemning spirit of rejection. But, my greatest revelation from my time in the trenches is: hope. Numbers no longer scare me. I am not overwhelmed by this black hole we call poverty. Scraggly teeth and filthy hands no longer intimidate me. There is beauty in the deepest mire.
We found life in the most unpredictable places. Beneath bridges, shinning shoes, begging for change, walking for water, waiting for taxis, serving meals, sipping coffee; life was all around us. We found life in people with needs, like Samson, a homeless man with a wounded hand. And we found it in need-meeters, like Dr. Ferdo, an Ethiopian surgeon with a heart to heal. We found life in a little girl named Mekelete, an eight-year- old orphan who roams the streets. And we found it in different ministries like Hope For Children, an organization that rescues children from the streets.
In the middle of all the life-needing/life-giving stories I found something invaluable. It poured from the lips of every smiling stranger and filled my soul. It rung out crystal clear in innocent voices of street children shouting my name. It wrapped me up in hugs. It found me over meals and in church. It laid me down at night and woke me in the morning.
In Amharic, the national language of Ethiopia, the most common greeting is, "seulam no?" They borrow the word 'seulam' from the Hebrew word 'shalom.' Literally translated the greeting means, "do you have peace?" I love that question because peace doesn't mean absence of conflict. It doesn't mean two fingers in the sky or a charm on a necklace. Shalom means, 'complete.' Put together. And that's the strange something stirring inside me. A sense of completeness whispering with a soft voice, "Matt, this is worth your energy. This is worth your time. This is worth your life."
Thank you. It needs to be said a million times. Thank you. Ethiopia was simply too far for me to reach on my own. You got me there and you brought me back. Your prayers lifted my spirits and kept me safe. Your questions challenged me and made me think. And now your encouragement is moving me on.
I've been accepted to Fuller Theological Seminary's school of Intercultural Studies and am planning on beginning my studies within the next year. For the time being I am in Sisters working on some writing projects. I posted lots of pictures and thoughts during my time in Africa to my website. If you would like to know/see/read more you're invited to visit at web.mac.com/mawordsmith. As always I'd love to hear your thoughts, questions, and stories so please call. Even if it just to say hi, call.
Thank you for journeying with me and sharing my dreams. You have my eternal gratitude and prayers. I hope during this advent season you find the complete peace of Christ. There is so much hope and beauty in the story of Immanuel. It is life-giving and profound and we can't hear it enough. Blessings on you and your family.

"May the Lord bless you and protect you.
May the Lord smile on you and be gracious to you.
May the Lord show you his favor and give you his peace."
- Numbers 6:24

Love and Peace,

Matthew A. Smith
__________________________
call: 720-635-2650
write: mawordsmith@gmail.com
visit: web.mac.com/mawordsmith


I think that was enough for today. May his prayer be fulfilled today.

Please join me in praying for Kathy L. this week.