Tag Archives: Milan

Leaving Malta

Posted on by

0

Greetings from Rome (my layover before returning home to Milan)!

Although I am always ready for the next adventure, I have to say that leaving Malta is one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in a long time.  Whenever I leave my family, I know that I’ll see them again before the year is out.  But in Malta I was very aware of how close we had grown as a team.  And although I will definitely come back to Malta, it will never be the same because the team won’t be there.  We had come from all over the globe: Asia, Africa, North America, Australia, and of course, Europe.  South America and Antarctica were the only continents not represented.  Among the crew were newbies on their very first mission trip and seasoned missionaries who had raised children on the mission field.

The local believers were very hospitable, just as they had been described in the book of Acts.  Malta is incredibly beautiful, but it’s the beauty of the Lord and His presence that really took my breath away.  God is good!  And Malta can be seen as proof of His goodness!

Dancing in the Piazza!

Posted on by

0

We have been rehearsing the last few days to do a flash mob in the Parliament Square.  This was my 3rd flash mob.  The first was in Milan’s ritzy department store, La Rinascinte, singing Amazing Grace on Christmas Eve to shoppers there.

My 2nd was a flash mob of values on the steps of the Duomo Cathedral of Milan, in which at a signal we held signs naming various moral values.  Mine said coraggio (courage).  The press had been invited to that one!

This time we were all over the big central piazza and after an introduction we ran to the middle of the piazza and danced to Resurrection (link there—I’m in the back on the right, all in gray).  You can see a guy in green at the front who briefly dances with us.  We had good audience participation.  The wind was something I, personally, had prayed for because without wind, it would have been blistering hot—so thank You, Lord, for the wind to keep us cool!

Afterwards the dance team and others went to the main street, set up there, and danced some more.  It was a moment when I would like to have been able to be in 2 places at once.  But I stayed in the piazza with the evangelization team.  We hadn’t seen them very much at all since Rome, so I wanted to spend some time with them.  But that desire was really just a set up for a divine appointment.  In Rome Guy, the host and head of the evangelization team, had told us about prayer walking in Parliament Square at 3AM.  He had gone up to the door and knocked on it.  The guard who answered had tears in his eyes, and Guy asked if he could pray for him.  The guard had just a month earlier lost his daughter in a car accident and had been in that moment struggling to cope.  Guy prayed for him and shared the Good News of Jesus Christ with the guard.  The guard has remained Guy’s friend.

After the dancers left, Guy went to the same door and knocked.  He asked the guard inside to please tell Paul hello for him.  The guard said, “If you wait 10 minutes, Paul will be here, and you can tell him yourself.”  So we all got to meet Paul, and he invited us into the courtyard of the Parliament Building.  Paul told us that we can’t go inside, though.  Then after a few minutes, he took us into another courtyard that was even prettier.  Again he told us that we couldn’t go inside.  I got a chance there in the second courtyard to talk with Paul.  He is a very nice man, and his affection for Guy was obvious.

Then after telling us twice that we couldn’t go inside, Paul took us inside, where we saw lots of suits of armor and paintings of leaders going back to the 1500’s.  Before exiting, we all prayed for Paul.  He thanked us, wiping tears from his eyes.  It was a sweet and touching visit, and probably prophetic for whenever Operation Capitals of Europe comes to Malta—that we will be gratefully welcomed.

Then Guy treated us all to ice cream, and we said our good-byes (some of them are leaving today, and I’m leaving tomorrow).  God is good!

Take it Personally!

Posted on by

0

God has been meeting us here in very personal ways, providing just what we need (or want!) at just the right time.  For me, there were 4 things that people either did for me, gave to me, or that were simply there for me, and nobody knew where they had come from.

Scarf

The day before I left for Rome I was given a scarf.  I put it in my backpack and really forgot about it until the first morning in Rome.  We had a pre-breakfast prayer meeting by the swimming pool each morning.  Rome was hot, but not at 6:30AM.  So having that scarf to throw over my shoulders was just perfect.  It felt like a smile from God.  I have also needed the scarf on the buses here in Malta because they are hyper-uber-air-conditioned and freezing cold.  After a roasting hot day, getting on a freezing bus when you’re all sweaty feels really good—at first.  But our bus ride is about 25 minutes, which is plenty of time to get frozen.  So again, having the scarf to throw over my shoulders has been a real blessing and a life-saver.

Pearl

In the Malta airport I found a pearl on the ground.  As many of you know, I have recently opened my apartment in Milan as a missionary guesthouse.  What you might not know is that I named it Pearl House because of a dream that God gave me while I was fasting and praying.  In the dream I saw people lined up on the sidewalk in front of the apartment building.  Each person had a bag overflowing with pearls in their hands.  When I woke up, I realized that these were missionaries taking the Pearl of Great Price (the Gospel) to people in Europe.  So finding that pearl was significant in a very personal way.

Chicken Dinner

Yesterday I took a day off from the Prayer Center to rest, get some laundry done, and work on the computer.  We have had all our meals provided for us, but they have been brought to the Prayer Center.  I had spied a can of tuna and figured that I would just put tuna on crackers, and that would be fine for dinner.  But then the dance team woke up from their nap and made a delicious chicken dinner, and they invited me to share it with them.  They were going to do the overnight shift at the Prayer Center, and opted to get a good nap and arrive too late for dinner.  So instead of cold tuna on crackers, I got a lovely chicken dinner with oven fried potatoes and a delicious fresh fruit salad.

Yogurt

This morning I got up early and caught the first morning bus to the Prayer Center.  I had a cup of coffee before leaving, but I usually don’t wake up hungry.  As I walked into the Prayer Center I wanted a second cup of coffee and something to eat.  My favorite breakfast is a crunchy granola cereal with plain yogurt over it.  On the kitchen counter sat a cup of plain yogurt.  There were 3 people in the Prayer Room, so I asked if the yogurt belonged to anyone.  They all said that they didn’t know anything about it.  But I know: it was a breakfast treat from my Father, who loves me personally and intimately.  God is good!

Break Every Chain

Posted on by

0

After only 3 hours, both Molly and I wanted to get back to the Prayer Center.  It wasn’t a lot of sleep, but both of us got 3 very good hours of sleep.  I love that we got to be the ones to launch the 24/7 prayer.  It was out of my comfort zone, but so worth it!  In fact, every time that I have stepped out of my comfort zone in response to God’s call, I have enjoyed it and been blessed.

And speaking of being called out of my comfort zone, God has encouraged me to speak to people here in Malta—strangers!  Those who know me might be surprised, but I’m really quite shy, especially when it comes to talking to strangers.  My mom is really good at striking up a conversation with a stranger, and seems to be able to do it anytime and anywhere, with grace and freedom.  I have not enjoyed such ability or success whenever I have tried.  But, since it is God that is calling me out of my comfort zone, I will do it, and will enjoy it and will be blessed.

In obedience, I have started to greet everyone I see on the street (except the ones that are talking on their phones).  Most people have responded in a friendly way.  In Texas I used to greet everyone on the street, even strangers.  But in Milan and in the northeastern US, I have gotten such odd and sometimes hostile reactions that I stopped doing it.  I spoke to the man next to me on the bus this morning, but found that his accent and the background noise made it really hard to understand him.  Although he didn’t seem to be quite awake, he responded in a friendly way.  When we got to the end of the line, he wished me a nice day.

Yesterday we had more prayer requests from the other Transform teams, and had a prayer meeting with local believers.  One couple came with their 10 year old son, but soon after worship started, they suddenly left.  I don’t know if they were offended by the freedom of our worship or if they had some unrelated issue.  It definitely was not our intent to offend anyone.  Malta is even more religiously Catholic than Italy—celebrating saint days with colored lights and garlands and fireworks and parades of statues in the streets.  The Renewal Movement (Charismatic Catholicism) has begun here, but it is not the majority by any means.  Most Catholics here, as in Italy, are nominal, ritualistically religious, or superstitiously religious.  True faith is rare here in Malta.  But it won’t stay that way.

Another issue for the Maltese is refugee boat people from Africa.  Most of the boat people drown before making land, but such is the desperation of these people that they just keep coming.  The same current that caused the Apostle Paul’s boat to shipwreck on Malta brings the African boats to these shores instead of to Italy (though many do land in Italy).  The European Union has told Malta that they must keep the boat people, so the population of the island has changed dramatically.  Many Maltese resent the presence of the Africans, feeling that their island has been invaded, their jobs taken, and their economy drained.  The fact is that the European Union financially helps Malta, though I don’t know how much.  Refugees are put into detention centers for a year while their backgrounds are checked.  As you can imagine, this is not a quick process, working in cooperation with various African governments that do not want to have these people returned to be a drain on their own struggling economies.  Then the refugees are released to find work that nobody else wants to do because of low pay or the danger involved.

Molly, who is a black African, discovered firsthand the anger and resentment of the Maltese for the African refugees.  She was walking with 2 other girls from our team, and they spoke to people in the park.  They asked one older man if they could pray for him.  An ugly look came over his face and he pointed his finger at Molly, shouting: “Pray about them!”

The unexpected venom of his anger startled and hurt Molly.  But later as she told us about the incident, Molly prayed for the man, forgiving him and releasing him to God’s love.  While walking with Molly, I saw another older man who scowled at Molly.  I turned to her and said, “Molly, I’m so sorry for the way that man spoke to you!”  How terrible to be hated so much just because of the color of your skin!  The man had no idea what a sweet person Molly is, or that she had come for the specific purpose of praying for his country.

Jesus is the chain-breaker, and He will break every chain and proclaim freedom to the captives.  Yes, Lord!  Break every chain!  God is good!

The Whole Inheritance

Posted on by

0

Greetings from Rome!

I am here at Transform 2013, an outreach program of OM.  At the airport while waiting for the bus to the conference, I stopped at a coffee shop for an after-lunch espresso, as is my habit.  Next to me at the coffee bar was a friendly woman.  She smiled and spoke to me in English.  It turned out that she was also headed to Transform.  We hit it off in an instant friendship.  But Monica and I had no idea at the time just how compatible we were.

Transform in Rome is to prepare missionaries for short-term missions in the countries around the Mediterranean.  “Where are you going after the conference?” Monica asked me.  This would become one of the 2 most common questions to strike up conversation at the conference.  The other being, “Where did you come from?”  I told her that I’m from Texas, living in Milan, Italy, and going to Malta after the conference.  Her smile widened and she said, “Me too!”  Both our jaws dropped open.  Right on cue, the bus arrived and took us to the conference.  Monica and I rode together, each glad to have found a traveling companion.

When I arrived in Rome, I was already going on 2 nights in a row of only 4 hours sleep.  Monday night (or technically, Tuesday morning) I awoke at 2AM with a migraine attack beginning.  The enemy frequently tries to prevent me from going or from being effective on missions trips by attacking me with migraines.  But the Lord said to get on my feet and fight.  So I stood there in the dark room, rebuking the enemy silently so as not to awake my 3 roommates.  The migraine immediately went away and I was able to get back to sleep, but had a 3rd night of only about 4 hours sleep.  Something would have to break.  The next night (yesterday morning) I woke up again at 2 and simply couldn’t get back to sleep.  It wasn’t that my mind was busy, I just laid there feeling my breath going in and out, and not sleeping.  About 11 that morning, I was considering going to the room to see if I could sleep through lunch.

But my morning prayer partner suggested that I pray with someone who knows about generational curses.  She suggested this because I had opened up and told her about my concerns for my son, who had written on Facebook that he hadn’t been happy in a year, and had asked the question, “Why should I go on living?”  I noted that it was about a year ago that his grandfather (my former father-in-law) had committed suicide.  The person she led me to was Monica.

I told Monica about my son and father-in-law, and also that 4 months later, I also lost a close family friend to suicide.  She said that there is a spirit of suicide and a spirit of death that are generational spirits.  That means that they tend to cling to a person’s family, encouraging death among family members.  I had already broken other such curses off my family, but not specifically suicide or death.  I told her that in the last year that I lived with my husband, I suffered thoughts of suicide all day long, day-in and day-out.  And that finally, when I left him, I was literally running for my life—not because of physical danger from him, but because of the danger that I might, in a moment of weakness, act upon those thoughts because of how intolerable life had become for me.  One day I did come close, but instead called 911 and was referred to the County Mental Health Clinic, where I was given a prescription for an anti-depressant.

Monica took me to her room, laid hands on me and prayed for me, breaking the spirit of suicide and death.  She prayed for the healing of my memories and other things that I don’t remember.  What I do remember is that her hands smelled very nice and felt soothing on my skin.  When I commented on the fragrance of her hands she showed me a little vial of Frankincense.  It has a lovely smell!  It’s really very soothing.

After Monica’s prayer, I felt my energy return.  I did take a nap, but not until after lunch, and only for about 45 minutes.  Last night I slept very well, getting about 8 hours—6 in a row!—thank You, Lord!

Today almost everyone has gone into the city of Rome on outreach, taking many paperback Gospels of John in Italian, 3000 dvd’s of the Jesus film to give away, and thousands of tracts to hand out.  I decided to stay behind, knowing that without a nap, I could never last a whole day into the evening, walking around Rome.  On Fridays I pray for Italy from 3-4 in the afternoon.  So I went to the prayer room, with their big floor map of the Mediterranean countries.  I knelt down on Italy and prayed and wept over it.  Then I stretched out over Italy, my heart right over Tuscany.  For a long time I had no words to pray, just mute longing for the salvation of the people of Italy, and my heart beating over Tuscany.

Then I lifted up my head and saw the words printed on the corner of the map: “Ask Me, and I will make the nations your inheritance, the ends of the earth your possession,” (Psalm 2:8).  It was 3 years ago, just before I went to Transform 2010, that I received a prophecy, saying (in part): “You will not just receive the blessing, but the whole inheritance.”  So I stood to my feet and began to ask for the nations as my inheritance, and to claim the whole inheritance.  As brokenhearted as I had earlier felt for Italy, I began to feel confident that God will indeed bless and save the people of Italy—no matter what their background.

Then I remembered a prophecy I received a few days ago, but read this morning: “When your faith is in what you want Me to do for you instead just wanting Me, it is misplaced,” (emphasis mine).  Yes, my faith is in God Almighty, and He alone is the hope for Italy.  God, who helped me yesterday when I was in trouble, can help Italy, too!  God is good!

Europe’s Most Hopeless People

Posted on by

3

Europe is a hopeless place, filled with hopeless people.  That’s something that most tourists have no clue about.  They come from places where there are jobs and plenty of money.  They see the majestic Eiffel Tower, the famous tower of Big Ben, the historical Colosseum in Rome, and the romantic canals of Venice.  They take pictures and go home thinking that they have seen Europe.

Trivia: Few have actually seen Big Ben because it’s the name of the clock’s bell

Trivia: Christians were fed to the lions in the Circus Maximus, not the Colosseum because it was a bigger venue and open to all, so it served as a warning not to join the Christians.  The Colosseum was only open to the nobility and was where the Gladiators fought to the death.

The tourists might have had their pockets picked or seen (or most likely tried not to see) beggars in these beautiful places.  If they were brave enough to ride the buses, trains, trams, or subway, they may have smelled someone near them who doesn’t use deodorant.  These tourists go home thinking that they have seen Europe, too.

But the reality of Europe (or any place for that matter) can only be truly known by living here.  Life in Europe is hard, and it’s hardest on immigrants.  Americans must learn how to navigate ancient bureaucracies that are full of rules that make no sense—that’s just the way it’s done.

The Europeans have a love/hate relationship with America.  They love our movies and TV shows, and the fact that we come in and spend money here, which boosts the economy.  But they hate our loud and often obnoxious presence.  America is the land of comfort and convenience, the land of efficiency and practicality.  Most of Europe is none of those things.  So when Americans come and complain loudly about the realities of Europe, it angers Europeans, who may wish that you would just quietly spend your money and go back to America.

The biggest difference between America and Europe is that Americans are an optimistic bunch.  Even the most pessimistic and negative American is more optimistic than the average European.  In a word, Americans have hope.  Europeans have mostly given up hope.  This hopelessness is what makes Europe “by far the most secular, least Christian” continent on earth, (Operation World, page 79).  Europeans love our optimism, love the fact that we smile a lot, but they consider Americans naïve.

Here are some of the most hopeless groups of people in Europe (and probably in the world):

The Roma

There are Roma (gypsies) throughout Europe, and they are the most universally hated group of people by far.  The Roma are not all lazy beggars and thieves, as most people think.  In fact, they are quite industrious.  However, because the majority of them have no legal documents, they cannot materially participate in European society.  They can’t get jobs, so they create their own work.  Some Roma are business owners, employing their family members.  Others pick and sell flowers, wash windshields at traffic lights, or play music on the subway—all of which are forms of begging.  Some of the gypsy girls visit the alley door of restaurants and shops, begging for food or money in exchange for sex.  Some sit outside of churches, grocery stores, and cafes, begging.  Some have broken and set their legs in crazy ways or amputated their legs, giving themselves a “beggar’s pay raise.”  And, yes, some of them break into houses and steal whatever they can carry away.

Most of the Roma could not integrate into the rest of European society even if they wanted to.  Their lack of legal documents also means that even if they have the money, they can’t buy or rent property.  So they live in camps at the edge of town.  Some camps are worse than others, but none of the camps are a place you would want to go, much less to live.  Roma hygiene is practically nonexistent, even if the facilities are available to them—and often they are not available.  Every Roma camp is the third world.  Just outside the beautiful European cities that attract so many tourists are Roma camps: Paris, London, Rome, and Venice all have their Roma camps.

But the biggest barrier to integration is the Roma family, itself.  At the head of every Roma family are the patriarchs, the grandparents.  All family issues are decided by the patriarchs, and all money is brought to the patriarchs to administer.  Roma family values are so foreign to the rest of us that it makes them a frightening mystery to most people.  Understanding Roma family values will help you understand the Roma.  In a nutshell, the family is everything to the Roma, and you serve the family, the patriarchs, by bringing them money.  You might think, well my family is important to me, too.  But here’s some examples of Roma family values at work:

  • Sending your daughter (or son or wife) out to sell herself as a prostitute brings money to the family, so that’s a good thing.
  • Paying to ride the bus, train, or subway takes money away from the family, so that’s a bad thing.
  • Passing your children around among the adults of the family to be used like sex toys trains them for prostitution, which will bring in money, so that’s a good thing.
  • Passing up an opportunity to steal something when no one is looking won’t bring money to help the family, so that’s a bad thing.
  • Selling your child either to traffickers or to black market human organ dealers brings money to the family, so that’s a good thing.

On that last point, the Roma are always happy with pregnancies because one way or another, they will find a way to bring money in to the family through that child.  Do they love their children?  Love doesn’t really enter into Roma family values.  Money is really everything for them.

The Homeless of Budapest

When I was in Budapest, I wrote about the homeless in my book Look, Listen, Love.  Budapest has an estimated 30,000 homeless people (Operation World, page 403).  The homeless people that I saw didn’t beg for money.  All over Europe, and indeed the world, homeless people beg for money.  But not the homeless of Budapest.  They have lost hope.  They sleep in doorways and in the entrances to the subway.  There are so many of them that the city seems to have given up hope of helping them.  So the police don’t chase them away when they camp in a doorway, in the park, or in the subway entrance.  I guess that’s help of some sort, but not much.

The Orphans

But the Roma and the homeless of Budapest, although hopeless, are not the most hopeless group of people in Europe.  The most hopeless people are the orphans of formerly Communist Central and Eastern Europe.  I met 1 just this week.

Mary came with a missionary family from Romania that stayed with me.  She is the nanny to their 4 children.  They are discipling her even though she hasn’t yet made a decision for Christ.  They had to be very careful talking about her because although Mary doesn’t understand English, the children are bilingual.  Little pitchers have big ears, and they also have big mouths!

What I understood between the lines is that Mary grew up in an orphanage.  Most orphanages in the formerly Communist countries keep the children under very tight control.  So they grow up sheltered, but not loved.  Mary had never seen an elevator before.  She had no idea how the thing worked, and preferred to take the stairs instead.  When I was introduced to Mary, I did as with any introduction:  I smiled and offered my hand to shake.  Mary turned her gaze from my smiling face and reluctantly took the hand.

Mary clearly loves the children, especially the oldest, Sally, who is 7.  She told the mother that Sally loved and accepted her when nobody else would.  I suspect that Mary feels safer with someone who is younger and still quite small.  Because she had never experienced love, she found it very hard to believe that anybody, the family, me, or even God could love her, only Sally.  It is very much an issue of trust.

What I know about orphanages in the formerly Communist countries is what I learned from Stella’s Voice, a missions organization that goes to Moldova and rescues orphans, and Nefarious, a documentary about human trafficking, and from talking with missionaries who work with prostitutes.  Orphans, particularly girls, need rescuing because when they reach their 18th birthday, the orphanage gives them a bus ticket and a little money, and they are left on a bench at the bus stop.  The traffickers know this and come by to take the girls and set them up into a life of prostitution, usually in Western Europe.  Since they have no skills and no life experience, the girls go along without a thought.  Sometimes the orphanage directors will encourage the girls to “be friendly” with the traffickers even before they must leave the orphanage.  In this way they learn that their only value is sexual.

With the ever-present children, I never was able to learn very much specifically about Mary’s life.  All I know is that she is 29 years old, though emotionally I would put her more at 12.  She has been with the family for 4 years.  She has heard the Gospel and attends church with the family, but has never made a declaration of faith.  The mother, who is also Romanian, told me that Mary’s inability to trust has at times made her so difficult to live with that she almost gave up on her.  But the Lord told her that he put Mary into her home for a reason.

When you think of Europe, please remember that the beautiful places you’ve seen in pictures are only a small part of the reality.  Europe is desperately in need of missionaries.  There are some countries with almost no Christian presence—and that presence is hardly Christian, being either steeped in worship of the Madonna or loaded up with traditions that include curses for sale from the priest.  Please pray for missionaries to answer the call to serve in Europe.  Pray for the missionaries and pastors of Europe who have been laboring for years to bring in the final harvest.  And if the Lord is calling you to come serve Him in Europe, please be obedient and answer that call!  God is good, but there is no time to waste.  The Day of the Lord is upon us.

Dream or Vision

Posted on by

0

On Saturday I was on a train returning to Milan from a prophetic conference.  I had had to leave the conference early in order to be back in Milan to meet a missionary coming into town.  I was in that twilight state between sleep and being awake and I had a dream or vision:

There was an object—a silver oblong cube, like a very small shoebox about 5-6 inches long and about 3 inches wide and 3 inches high.  This object was handed to a prophet.  The prophet was hugely pregnant and held the object where the baby’s foot was.  And the baby pushed its foot toward the object, so that it was as though the baby was stepping on the object.

I asked the Lord, “What does this mean and who is it for?”  But He remained silent.

When I returned home, I wrote the dream/vision out and sent it in an e-mail to the missionary who had driven me to the train station from the conference.  Since she had been the last person I had spoken with, I thought that perhaps it was for her or she might know what it means.  But she wrote back, saying that it doesn’t ring any bells, but it is a very cool vision.

Again this morning I asked the Lord, “What does the vision mean and who is it for?”  He said, “You are the prophet.  You are full of the gifts—all of the gifts.  Step into your anointing.”  And my spirit said, “WOW!!!”

A few minutes later, the missionary that is staying as a guest in my house came in and said, “The Lord gave me a word for you: Psalm 150, verse 6: ‘Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.  Praise the Lord.’  And He says that He will do it for you.”

Of course, my reaction was visible goosebumps and a dropped jaw.  She shook her head, not knowing what all of it means, until I told her about the vision and what God had just told me moments before, and it was her turn to be surprised and goosebumpy.

Praise the Lord, as the Psalmist says, and stay tuned because acts of God are coming!  God is good!

Hopelessly Devoted to Him

Posted on by

0

I know it seems like I go on and on about the Rapture, but the thing is that I know it’s coming soon, and like a young bride, I can hardly wait for that day.

I don’t listen to anything but Christian music, and without a TV, I spend my downtime watching sermons of my favorite preachers on YouTube.  I hardly go to movies at all these days because I’ve found that I am very easily upset by violence or offended by bad language or people acting like sin is an acceptable way to live.  Understand that I’m not judging anyone (they will have to stand before the Judge of us all someday), but since I don’t hang around those kind of people in real life, I find it impossible to be entertained by them without my heart being offended.

So it’s funny, but today I was thinking about the Rapture again.  And a song came to me, but not a Christian song.  It’s not even a song that I particularly like: Hopelessly Devoted to You from the musical, Grease.  I like the musical, but that song!  Let’s face it: that song is sappy—it defines sappy.  Olivia Newton John as Sandy goes into the backyard in her nightgown and sings about how lovesick she is despite the bad treatment she’s gotten from Danny (John Travolta’s character).  Really, it’s enough to make Pollyanna throw up.

But despite all that, it really describes my state of mind.  Just like Sandy I’m “out of my head, hopelessly devoted” to Jesus.  I constantly think about the day that He will come and take me away.  And that’s not because my life is so bad, it’s not.  In fact, I couldn’t be happier or in a better place.  Well, not on earth, that is.  I guess Heaven is the only thing missing.  So I go on, doing my work for Him, dreaming of the day that we’ll be together forever.

Today’s Word from the Lord is John 14:12-14: “Very truly I tell you, whoever believes in Me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father.  And I will do whatever you ask in My name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son.  You may ask Me for anything in My name, and I will do it.”  That’s an awesome promise!  And it happens to be in the same chapter as a Rapture passage.  In verses 2-3, Jesus says: “My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with Me that you also may be where I am.”

I’ve moved a lot in my life (every 5 years on average), and most of them have been long distance moves.  Most of the time I was happy where I was living, but looking forward to the next place.  Now I have broken the lifelong pattern with my move back to Milan in 2010.  This is the first place where I have ever moved back to, and it’s the first time that I’ve lived for more than 7 years in one place.  I love Milan.  I love my friends here.  I love my apartment.  I love my neighborhood.  I love my ministry.  I love my life.  I’m very happy here.  But I’m looking forward to the next place.

So with moony sighs and lovesick tears, I resemble a teenager in love as I wait for my wedding day when I’ll fly away.  God is good!

The Edict of Milan

Posted on by

1

I recently attended a conference, calling itself an “alternative conference to those applauding Emperor Constantine and the signing of the Edict of Milan.”  This year marks 17 centuries since Emperor Constantine signed the Edict, legalizing Christianity in the Roman world.  It’s called the Edict of Milan because he signed it here in Milan.

On the surface, it seems like the Edict was a good thing for Christianity.  After about 300 years of persecuting and exterminating (feeding Christians to the lions, soaking them with oil and lighting them as torches, and crucifixion), instead of ending Christianity, it had continued to grow.

Constantine was no fool.  He decided that if you can’t beat them, join them.  So that’s what he did.  Was he sincerely converted to Christianity?  Only God knows, but probably not.  The Edict was a political move to bring Christianity under government control—the opposite of the Biblical model, in which the government is under the control of God.  The result was the ritualization of what had until then been Spirit-inspired rites (the Lord’s Supper, for example).  And little by little through these rituals, the human doctrines replaced Biblical soundness (infant baptism and praying to saints, for example).

On December 8, 1854 the Immaculate Conception became a doctrine of the Catholic Church—a fact that many Catholics are unaware of.  Many Protestants don’t realize that the Immaculate Conception is not about the sinless purity of Jesus, it’s about His mother, Mary, being born sinless.  Of course, if Mary was a sinless, divine person, then Jesus could never have died for our sins.  The only way that He could die in our place is if He was 100% human in body.  If you’re interested in reading more on the subject, here’s a link:  Immaculate Conception.

Ironically, the Edict, which was called the “Edict of Tolerance,” gave birth to a new anti-Semitic form of Christianity: Replacement Theology (link for those interested in knowing more about that).  Before the 4th century, Christians were very much aware of their Jewish roots.  But with the government-controlled version of Christianity, came a way to control the Jews.  Despite having been scattered all over the known world, the Jews continued to grow in population and most refused to convert, but remained Jewish.  Replacement Theology basically says that God gave up on the Jews and turned His attention and affection onto the Christians, instead.  Of course, this doctrine shows a basic lack of understanding about God: He is not a man and He does not change His mind (Numbers 23:19).  God is more than able to love Christians while still loving the Jews.  It’s like being a parent.  My sons are as different from each other as brothers can be, but I can and do love each of them equally.  If I, as a flawed human mother, can love my children equally in their differentness, can’t God also love both the Christians and the Jews?  Of course He can!

There were professors and clerics (Catholic, Evangelical, and Jewish), docents and intellectuals that spoke at the conference.  They spoke on their particular areas of expertise, and in the end we were given the opportunity to sign a petition declaring repentance and true tolerance for the Jewish people and for the State of Israel.

Recently, I have lost some friends.  These are Christian people who disagree with me on the true nature of grace.  They have decided to stop being friends because I believe that grace does more than save your soul.  (You can read more in my blog posts: Stop Complicating the Simple Things, Gracious Grace, Dis-Graceful Conduct, Generous Grace, and Blessed Reassurance, Part One.)  I wanted to agree to disagree—extending grace to them—but they were unwilling.  One of these former friends showed up at the conference, and was so surprised to see me there that when I greeted her warmly, she smiled and kissed me back.  Then she scurried away from me, ostensibly to find a seat, and never said another word to me.  This is at a conference about a new declaration of tolerance?  I tried not to let it hurt my feelings, but I am human, and I did have genuine affection for this person.  She used to be my cell group leader, for crying out loud!

This morning, the Word that the Lord gave me is Isaiah 65:17: “See, I will create new heavens and a new earth.  The former things will not be remembered, nor will they come to mind.”  In meditating about this verse, I realized that God isn’t saying that we won’t have the ability to remember, but rather that we won’t have the motivation to remember.  It’s like when you’re on vacation in a beautiful, tranquil place.  It’s not that you don’t remember the stress of your daily life, it’s just that there’s no motivation in that setting to do so.

Promised Land

In considering these things even further, I remembered a sermon I heard by Chuck Missler in which he described this world as a digital simulation of the real world: An Extraterrestrial Message.  I recommend watching that sermon (follow the link) because it is one of the most amazing explanations of the proof that the Bible is a supernatural book.  His point is that Heaven is a more real reality than this world.  I really like Chuck Missler because he’s unashamedly and unapologetically both Christian and intellectual.  The 2 are not mutually exclusive!

I understand very well why the Bible says that all creation groans to be set free from the bondage of decay (Romans 8:21-22).  I am groaning for it, too!  I look forward to the day when all these injustices (as with the Edict) and misunderstandings (as with grace) are a thing of the dim past that is not worth remembering.  God is good!

A Delightful Day Trip

Posted on by

0

My houseguests came to Italy from Czech Republic to attend a prophetic prayer conference, but they made use of their free time to do a bit of tourism.  I generally help guests get oriented and figure out how to find what they’re looking for, but mostly I leave them to go visit the castle, the cathedral and other tourist sites without me.  However, my friends Rose and Piotr invited me to come with them to visit Como.  I hadn’t been to Como for several years, and it is a very nice place to visit, so we packed a picnic lunch and I went with them.

We arrived at Como’s San Giovanni station.  Como has 4 or 5 train stations.  I picked San Giovanni because it is above the city, and from it you enter the city through a nice park.  From there we walked to the lakeside park where the monument to Alexander Volta stands, looking very much like a giant Duracell battery.  Ducks approached us quacking for a handout, but we had come empty-handed.

We walked back toward the marina under a canopy of trees so thick that it was like walking in the shade of an arcade gallery.  As we passed the marina, I pointed out that it is possible to take a boat tour of Lake Como.  They decided that it was going to take too much of our time, and so declined—much to my relief.  If they had wanted to do the boat tour, I would have waited for them on solid ground in a coffee shop.  It’s true, I’m not a big fan of boats.  I will ride boats when necessary, but it’s really not my idea of a fun time.  I know that lots of people love sailing, love boating, kayaking, canoeing, but they can have it.

From there we walked to the cathedral where we enjoyed the naturally cool interior, and then we went for a coffee.  The waiter spoke English and entertained us with his shtick for foreign visitors.

Then we went up the funicular railway to the top of the hill overlooking the lake and the city of Como.  The view going up was spectacular.  At the top we found a shady bench and ate our picnic lunch, enjoying the beautiful view and the lovely day.  Piotr pointed across the lake and asked me if the city in the valley was Chiasso, Switzerland.  I said, “I don’t know.  It could be.”  When we found a detailed satellite map, we discovered that it was, indeed Chiasso.  I asked him how he could possibly have known that that was Chiasso.  He shrugged and said, “It was a train to Chiasso, and that looked like it must be the next stop for the train.”

We walked along the narrow street to the scenic overlook at Fonte Pissarottino, which means fountain of Pissarottino.  The fountain did not have drinkable water, and had a marble sign reading “Porta fortuna,” meaning that the water brings good luck.  I translated the sign for them and said, “Of course, we’re blessed, so we don’t need luck.”  The views over Lake Como are all stunning, and this was certainly beautiful.  Then Rose and Piotr wanted to climb even farther up the hill to the lighthouse, Faro Voltiano.  I decided that they could do the climb in the full sun of the afternoon without my help.  So I waited for them at the coffee shop by the Funicular and did one of my favorite activities, people watching.  A tortoise-shell cat came to me, looking for some love.  Since I can’t resist cats, I naturally complied.  With a satisfied meow, he sauntered off to look for a good spot to nap.  Soon after that a big puppy that had slipped off his leash came wagging over to me.  I petted him with one hand and grabbed his collar with the other.  When a girl about 9-10 years old came running up, I handed him over to her.  She was very relieved to have him back.  The rest of the family came running, and made a big fuss over the dog, putting him back onto the leash.  The puppy just continued to wag, enjoying the chaos he had caused.

When Rose and Piotr found me in the shade of the café umbrella they confirmed what I had suspected: that it was a hard climb to the lighthouse in the full sun for very little payoff.  I smiled, thinking that with age (experience) comes wisdom.

We took the train back to Milan from the Como Nord station, which is not far from the bottom of the funicular.  It had been a beautiful day, and a pleasant day trip.  I called it an early night (about 9:30), and we all slept very well.  God is good!