Sunday, November 30, 2014

Transformation and grace

It's one thing to read about rushing rivers
from the comforts of home ...
It's Sunday, a day of reflection on the transformation Jesus brings about in his followers. Surrender to Jesus is not about surface changes or being "better people" by obeying the rules. Thank God for that!

If it were, I'd be without hope. I can't maintain a "good front" for longer than a few minutes at a time. (Those who know me best know that's true.)

What runs through your mind when you read the following quote from C. S. Lewis in Mere Christianity (below)? Do you agree and lean forward with anticipation? Or do you find yourself resisting this kind of "interference" from God?

   "And now we begin to see what it is that the New Testament is always talking about. It talks about Christians ‘being born again’; it talks about them ‘putting on Christ’; about Christ ‘being formed in us’; about our coming to ‘have the mind of Christ’.

   "Put right out of your head the idea that these are only fancy ways of saying that Christians are to read what Christ said and try to carry it out—as a man may read what Plato or Marx said and try to carry it out. They mean something much more than that. They mean that a real Person, Christ, here and now, in that very room where you are saying your prayers, is doing things to you. 

   "It is not a question of a good man who died two thousand years ago. It is a living Man, still as much a man as you, and still as much God as He was when He created the world, really coming and interfering with your very self; killing the old natural self in you and replacing it with the kind of self He has. At first, only for moments. Then for longer periods. Finally, if all goes well, turning you permanently into a different sort of thing; into a new
little Christ, a being which, in its own small way, has the same kind of life as God; which shares in His power, joy, knowledge and eternity."

Scripture tells us that the future is cataclysmic but hopeful: God is in control. We prepare for the renewal of the universe by allowing God to transform us day by day, not by accomplishing "goodness" on our own terms.

But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a roar, and the heavenly bodies will be burned up and dissolved, and the earth and the works that are done on it will be exposed. Since all these things are thus to be dissolved, what sort of people ought you to be in lives of holiness and godliness...? 2 Peter 3:10-11 ESV

The holiness that God works in us is a separation unto Himself, away from evil. When God is in the process of changing our hearts to suit himself, it's not always comfortable. He's doing surgery - cutting away the unnecessary and the bad. Instead of bandages, he transplants in a new heart, grafts on new skin, and injects new desires into us, which sometimes feels more like a burn or scarring rather than healing. 

... and quite another thing to ride life's rapids.
Behavioral scientists have observed that people feel helpless and internally chaotic during times of change. In such seasons, when we're clearly not in control, the grace of God - his unmerited favor - is particularly important.
  • He covers us with his love.
  • He offers enough strength to get through the day.
  • He is endlessly patient and watchful as we are being transformed.

  • Such gifts from God are Good News indeed. They're becoming more and more real and important to me. 

    Sometimes I cannot believe the junk I've held onto through the years. Should I not be "perfect" and "godly" after serving Jesus for decades? When I am impatient with my husband, rude in speech, or unkind to someone who cuts into line, does my conscience convict me - or do I shrug off my sins and failures?

    Lord have mercy! Thanks be to God through our Lord Jesus Christ.

    Thursday, November 27, 2014

    Happy Thanksgiving!

    People we've grown to love:
    teachers and fellow students
    Thursday, November 27, 2014
    Thunder pounds against the concrete walls of the house as we tidy up after our school brunch. A small gathering (14 people) spend a noisy, happy final morning together, celebrating the end of term. At school, we break from 9:30-10am for tea, coffee, Indonesian snacks, and conversation. Sometimes the Korean, Indian, or we Canadians have brought our national goodies to share.

    W and I are still bad at deciphering rapid conversations in Indonesian but the simpler phrases are clearer. We've learned a lot of words – and some grammar during our semester of language school. Yesterday, our class was tested.

    One of the bits of advice I've received as well as given is: "Is this is something God expects of you? Or are the “ought”s and “should”s of others creating a sense of obligation?”

    While we are preparing for the exam, it occurs to me to ask those questions. Is there any advantage to taking the test? Do I need the class certificate as well as the information gained? In other words, should I invest the time and energy to study for a final or will my time be better spent crafting a meal?

    Some of the guys from language school
    It is no contest. I stay home and listen to Indonesian lessons online. W and our classmates pass the spoken and written tests with flying colors. And we're prepared for a nice brunch. Win-win.

    Brunch goes off without a hitch. The administrator teases me that she'll spring the test today. "No problem," I laugh. "I know no more than yesterday and probably no less." But she lets me off the hook.

    It’s the helper’s regular day. When she arrives, she does a quick pass through the house with broom and mop, clearing the debris that continues to fall from the ceiling and the last day’s construction mess. (Her husband has begun repairs on the ceiling and roof in the badly leaking wing.) When we haul dishes to the second kitchen, they are miraculously cleaned. We chase her out after noon, an “early time off” since we have travel plans for the afternoon.

    Ugh. The lock in the front door has jammed – W has to fiddle with the deadbolt for an hour before we can lock up. It’s 2pm before we’re on the road. We can't leave the locks as they are: there have been thefts in the neighborhood this week.

    We are celebrating Thanksgiving dinner away from family for the first time. A morning call from Mel and Martha in Seattle cheers our hearts. 

    In the evening we enjoy Thanksgiving dinner with Jakarta friends who are becoming increasingly dear to us. We're so grateful to be included in personal friendships as well as the ministry of IES Jakarta. We’re dreaming and planning into the future with them. God is good!

    “It’s Thanksgiving. But look at the weather!” W exclaims as we drive over. Yes, how we love the tropics in November and their 83o (30oC) temperatures.

    Gigi serves up a feast of turkey, ham, pork, and side dishes. Dessert includes apple cobbler a la mode and other sweet treats. We eat downstairs in the building's auditorium before heading upstairs to talk and relax in Kenneys' flat. What a lovely day!

    We are so thankful for all our partners in this adventure. For YOU. Thanks for your notes, your prayers, and your encouragement over the past 5 months in Indonesia. We feel the presence of God with us through your faithfulness.

    It’s been a week since I last wrote. Here’s to catching up. Bonus: an easy recipe at the bottom of the page if you need a quick-and-tasty dessert.

    Friday, November 21
    We are planning on a day off but have a last-minute appointment at the seminary. In the morning, we meet the academic dean and his assistant. They ask if we are interested in teaching there. Certainly, if we can work out details and permissions.

    W needs some tools and gets a screen for the back door, left open during the day by helpers. What a relief: we immediately have less bugs and mosquitoes in the house. W stapled screens to the open windows last week so that’s helped too. I still need the mosquito net over our bed but am learning to untangle it from the blanket in my sleep.

    LR before: potential for improvement?
    When we arrive home about 4:00, a text pings on my phone. “Are you home? We’d like to visit.’ Yes, please come, I text back. I’m baking Christmas cookies, trying out an Italian cookie press ($4 at the local hotel ware shop). When Dr Hanna and her daughter Alice arrive at 5, we sample the fresh baked goods.

    It’s nice to have people drop by. We put aside our chores and sit down to talk together. My mom taught me the basics of hospitality: always have food on hand. Keep the door open. Enjoy the guests God brings. We do.

    LR after, almost ready for Christmas guests
    “Would you like to go to an art gallery? My friend is co-owner,” Dr H asks before they leave. Sure. I’ll be ready in the morning as arranged. We are looking for regional art that suits our budget (low) and dresses up a few of our many white walls.

    Our visitors walk home with a bag of cookies after the rain stops: they live just around the corner. At 7:30pm, it’s pitch dark with only the neighborhood lights on. Each home is responsible for turning on the streetlight connected to their electric bill. W has put ours on a timer after we forgot a few nights. I finish baking by 10:30pm.


    Saturday
    Dr Hanna picks me up at 8:20am. I don’t know what to expect at the gallery. W has work to do around the house so I go with $85 cash in my pocket. We are furnishing our Bandung home with money from selling our things in Seattle. It’s interesting to think about what will find us here after shedding so much back there.

    Oh! We pull in at the Reading Lights bookstore W and I have passed many times. I’ve wanted to go in as recently as yesterday. I have only one novel along (a gift from W’s sister) and miiiissss books. W loves to read online so he’s fine without.

    The bookstore used to be Galeri Bandung. They’re downsizing their artwork. Their shelves are filled with used books but the walls are hung with 40 paintings. The barista hands us a price sheet, ranging from $30-300. I find several framed originals: 2 in markers and one enameled with sand and metal.

    Sumathi and Augustine are over, having taken an angkot to our place in early morning. They and W head to the market and to Setiabudi grocer with my short-list and their long one: they’re preparing an Indian menu for the class Monday at lunch. Indian food is extremely time-intensive. (Sumathi will be cooking tomorrow as well.) Our Bosch mixer/food processor slices onions galore and the blender smashes the fragrant spices together. Meanwhile, Ibu A makes us a good chicken and rice lunch.

    When W drives them home and Ibu A leaves, I bake more Christmas goodies and start to roll newspapers into cones for an art project. I run out of papers before enthusiasm. We’ll get old ones from the library next week. I usually do one big craft before Christmas. This will be it.

    New friends around their Christmas tree
    Sunday
    Dr. Hanna comes by for the two of us. We begin the day with a visit to neighbors. She went to school with Edward, a bio-chemist and his wife Hunny. Hanna’s cousin, the head of Indonesia’s Autism Society, is also there. (Seems like everyone knows each other on the hill.)

    Hunny has decorated the whole house for Christmas. Their kids live in the States so they have familiar ornaments, including motion-and-song Disney characters. The tree by the piano is lit. The piano! I head over and play a quick carol.

    Hunny is also a gardener. She shows us unique plants including a Brazilian grape tree (or Jabuticaba, known back home at smoothie cafés as high-nutrient guarani). The deep purple fruit hangs from the branches in her front yard. It tastes sweet and plum-like. We leave with some seedlings and a bag of fruit. It will be fun to explore her yard with her.

    One blond head in the crush
    We’ve left the house early. On the way to church, the plan is to view the ITB faculty-student art show that takes place only once every fourth year. We hop out a half-kilometer before campus and leave the driver to find parking in the stop stop stop and crawl traffic. ITB is a prestigious university for arts and technology; the campus swarms with students, families, and Bandung residents. At squeeze points, the pedestrian traffic jam holds us in place for 10-20 minutes.

    Oh my! A sudden downpour – rainy season after all – completely soaks us below the raincoats we pulled out of our bags. Our trousers drip and our feet wade through one to six inches of run-off. Dr. Hanna and her daughter find raincoats at a vendor and quickly don them. The little booths push the heavy water off the tarps above, but not everyone successfully defends their wares. Some gear and artwork gets soaked and ruined.

    A rainy morning
    By the time we push through the crowds and find the car, we are quite wet. Our shoes and feet are muddy. Dr. H and Alice will have to dry off in the car: they point out that it’s too late for church so they will drive straight to Jakarta. W and I don’t have a chance to make the service: even the angkots are standing still in traffic and we’re a few kilometers away. Would we catch the closing prayer ? Even that is iffy. We snag a hot dog and fries (what?!) and walk up the hill toward home empty-handed. Maybe meeting people – these friends of friends – is what God has in mind for us.

    A traditional dance group - under shelter
    But there is the bookstore again. W asks if I want to go in. Why not? We leave carrying two framed gouache paintings @$60. The angkot driver is surprised when I wedge them around me on the front seat, while W hops in the back with other passengers. The driver carefully moves the gear shift around the bigger painting. (We hang them Monday night and the house begins to feel like home.)

    Monday
    What a great review class with Ibu Josie. She grills us on grammar and structure, helping us understand how Indonesians ask and compare jobs, time, and places. After going through the material, this reprise helps the information to stick.

    Great friends and good cooking
    During break, we head upstairs to faculty housing next door where Sumathi and Augustine live. They cook and listen as Josie continues. Then the rest of the classes arrive. Thirteen people squeeze in and around the table, heaped with biryani rice and marinated mutton, curried fish (tails and fins cut off, unlike Sundanese style), eggplant, and tender butter chicken. The roti and chapattis fill us to the brim, while raita cools our tongues with cucumber, onion, and tomatoes in sour cream. I baked a fruit cobbler that S serves with ice cream and sugared balls of dough, Indian style.

    Ibu Greti starts to wash dishes as soon as she finishes eating. It’s nice to have most of the cleaning done before everyone leaves. We sink onto the couches, replete and happy. What a feast! S sends home leftovers and hosts other faculty in the evening. So much food…

    Tuesday
    It’s the last day of class, a wonderful review session with Ibu Greti. I’ll miss meeting with these friends and our teachers. “They have heart,” I think. Both a heart for God and for his people.

    Chinese-Indonesian food
    Afterwards, we eat lunch at the Sundanese restaurant around the corner of the school with the academic dean and his assistant Ibu Dwi. They choose “beef foot” soup (delicious broth; you don’t eat the gelatinized hoof). It is a mix of Chinese and Indonesian food: gado-gado (our favorite Indonesian peanut salad), dried fish and bean sprouts, deep-fried spinach, and fried chicken legs.

    Since we are out and about, we drive to ACE Hardware for some nails before hitting Lucky Square to retrieve W’s pen from a store. We shop for groceries for the class event on Thursday, too. We splurge on $4 one-hour foot and back massages outside the grocer. (Two days later, W’s soles are still sore: we get a work-over so painful that we talk and plan today’s events to make it bearable. The young men grinding into our feet with bony fingers smile charmingly as they inflict pain.)
    The wreath starts to take shape

    I finish gluing the newspaper cones to cardboard backing. Yikes – it’s big: 5’ in diameter and needs a larger backing so the upper cones don’t flop forward. W runs to the store for the Indo version of Elmer’s All-Purpose glue and we glue a large sheet of cardboard across the back and let it dry overnight.

    Wednesday
    W finishes the test, along with Sumathi and Augustine. He gets off the angkot at the grocer on the way home, replenishing our kitchen cupboards with a long list compiled from what I used up this morning. I’ve baked 2 kinds of bars (recipe for the smash hit below) and 2 kinds of cookies. The meatballs are formed and baked. The sausage and onions for the egg casserole are fried. And I’m so not hungry, looking at all the food stashed in the fridge, freezer, and cabinets. (That’s why I was skinny when the kids were little: by the time I’d prepped and fed everyone, it would be 3pm and I barely had an appetite. Evenings when the kids went to bed, W and I ate everything in sight.)

    Snickerdoodles and shortbread

    We hang the wreath above the sofa, where it fills the empty wall almost to the ceiling. Our guests Thursday exclaim over it: it’s spectacular, another one of God’s surprises – more than the sum of its parts. Its quiet colors and humble materials sneak up on the moving eye.

    In the evening, I assemble the egg dishes, check supplies, and write a list for the morning. We’re asleep before 11, quite early for us. We sleep tight and awaken, rested on Thanksgiving morning before the regular alarm at 5:30am.
    -----

    Here’s the promised recipe. These easy bars got rave reviews from my primary tester (W) and were the favorite at our Thanksgiving brunch. (My apologies: I lost the site where these came from.)

    No Bake Chocolate Oat Bars


    Prep Time: 30 Minutes
    Ready In: 3 Hours 30 Minutes
    Servings: 32

    INGREDIENTS:
    1 cup butter
    1/2 cup packed brown sugar
    1 teaspoon vanilla extract
    3 cups quick cooking oats
    1 cup semisweet chocolate chips (or smash into pieces ½ -¾ of a “pound-plus” Trader Joes Bittersweet Chocolate and Almonds bar)
    1/2 cup peanut butter
    DIRECTIONS:
    1.
    Grease a 9x9 inch square pan.
    2.
    Melt butter in large saucepan over medium heat. Stir in brown sugar and vanilla. Mix in the oats. Cook over low heat 2 to 3 minutes, or until ingredients are well blended. Press half of mixture into the bottom of the prepared pan. Reserve the other half for topping.
    3.
    Meanwhile, melt chocolate chips and peanut butter in a small heavy saucepan over low heat, stirring frequently until smooth. Pour the chocolate mixture over the crust in the pan, and spread evenly with a knife or the back of a spoon.

    4. Crumble the remaining oat mixture over the chocolate layer, pressing in gently. Cover, and refrigerate 2 to 3 hours or overnight. Bring to room temperature before cutting into bars.

    Wednesday, November 19, 2014

    A day on the road

    Alternative city transportation
    Wednesday, November 19

    By Wednesday, we've had two days of language school about "transportation" and "asking for help." We are happy to have a cultural day on Wednesday.

    On the way to school, the first angkot driver pauses for 10 minutes at the side of the street to fill his minivan with passengers. The second one pretends he's almost ready to leave when we board, rocking his foot on the gas occasionally. He drives a block or two after 10 minutes and stops again for 10 minutes. He shows no sign of moving. We are now late and just a few streets from where we transferred.

    Finally a young man says to us, "Better to walk!" and scrambles off the bus with us. We hand the driver the lowest possible fare (20c) and begin a fast walk toward school.

    Ojek drivers (motorcyclists) wait at intersections for passengers
    We flag a third angkot after walking a mile. This driver is on a mission. He passes everyone. Zipping along, he has us at the school entry in no time. The "sitting duck" driver never passed us on our 20 minute walk. Perhaps he's at the corner still.

    Our van with students and two gurus head up the side of a mountain to Lembang, the local gardening district. The streets are narrow, crammed on either side with booths that hide the storefronts behind them. "It's too bad for the store owners," Josie notes. "No one can see their store because of the stalls draped with plastic (tarps). So ugly."

    The class in front of the DIY tofu instruction board
    She points out the "rabbit district," streets lined with rabbit cages. "You can buy them for pets or food."

    Our first stop is Tahu Susu Lembang, where milk-and-soy tofu is made. We beat a group of 100 other tourists into the factory. Good thing. "We are fully booked for tours today," they had told the teachers. But they let us in and show us around.

    Soybeans are soaked for four hours before being drained, ground up, and boiled in clear water for an hour. The huge vats of water are just heating up as we arrive. The gas burners roar under the tanks."You've come too early to see it cook," we're told.

    Delicious product! Fried tofu.
    After the soy cooks, milk is added.Then the tofu-in-process curdles in a vinegar broth before the water is poured off and reused. The curds are pressed and molded in pans, cooked 15 minutes in salt and garlic water - with or without turmeric for "white" or "yellow" tofu. The blocks dry on shelves near an electric fan.

    Flies cruise through the air and land on the tofu at every stage. We sample the delicious deep-fried cubes afterwards. "Whatever happened with the flies is now cooked," remarks a fellow student. True. And it's very tasty, regardless.

    Our second stop is Kedai Tehteh, a popular shop with traditional Sundanese food. "People will be lined up all the way down the drive on weekends," we're told.

    The teachers buy a "paket" for each of us: fried chicken, rice steamed in banana leaf, fried greens, deep-fried tempeh, a little fried circle of potato, and a quarter of fresh cucumber on a lettuce leaf ("which I don't recommend foreigners eat," warns Josie.) It's hot and fresh, the best meal of our school excursions, especially after adding spicy sanbal and soy sauce. We'll come back with guests. W's stomach rumbles before he swallows charcoal pills. Mine feels full and happy.

    The local "chicken combo"
    Corrugated roofs over traditional rattan in rainy season
    We handed the metalworker on the corner a sketch yesterday. In the evening, he welded a simple base for a yucky piece of furniture we found in a bedroom. We pick it up on our way home. Suddenly, it's a proportionate cabinet, perfect for dining room storage.

    Before: low and awkward

    After: with a simple metal base = useful
    We can't always take pictures of the people we meet, so I'm sharing our surroundings.

    Before: "and darkness covered the face" of possibly the most boring living room ever
    After: getting there, slowly but surely
    The house is full of mosquitos and flying termites. (The helper's husband leaves the back door open when he works. We'll have to talk about that.) We swat them away and drape the mosquito net around the bed as night falls.

    Read more:
    *Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the LORD, and on his law he meditates day and night. Psalm 1:1-2 ESV

    *My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and behold the face of God? Psalm 42:2 NEV


    *The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; all who follow his precepts have good understanding. To him belongs eternal praise. Psalm 111:10 NIV

    *Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. John 17:17 ESV

    *We are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is. 1 John 3:2 NEV

    Moravian Prayer: Heavenly Father, just like children we often think we know what is best. We long to be closer to you, and yet we fail to follow in the path you have laid for us so many times in so many ways. Thank you for forgiving us and welcoming us, even though we aren’t worthy. Amen.

    Saturday, November 15, 2014

    A squelching Saturday

    Suradi's lawnmower: a machete
    Saturday, November 15, 2014

    Bapak E, Ibu A's husband, has come to look at the leaking roof. W drives him to a building supply to buy a long beam. The repair supplies for our bedroom leak - wood, water-proofing, and whatnot - cost $17. Pak E clambers up a bamboo ladder onto the roof and goes to work.

    Without a winter, plants keep growing, trees drop leaves, and palms shed fronds year-round. The yard man, Bapak Suradi, arrives on his "every-two-weeks" rotation. Usually we're in Jakarta and he prunes the hedges whatever way. I demonstrate the slant for hedge and ask him to trim the shrubbery where we park the car. From the roof, Pak E translates our future plans to move the guppy pond closer to the house. Pak S clips with a hand-shear and mows the grasslike foliage in the driveway with a machete. I forget to ask him to buy bug-killer: mealy-bugs are devouring the poinsettia tree.
    15'+ tall - in the mall (the little trees are 6')

    We ignore our own good advice after last week's excursion: "Stay home on weekends," and head out to do three quick errands in town. "We'll be back for lunch at 1," we say, waving goodbye to the helper at 10am.

    We call Ibu A just after noon to say traffic is bad. We are on our second errand. "We'll probably be late. Please put lunch in the fridge if we're not back by the time you leave."

    Then, with the assistance of the WAZE app, which apparently has no other foolish drivers on the cross-streets, we follow stand-still traffic through one back street after another. Motorcyclists huddle under trees and move from shelter at any little letup in the downpours. Our arrival time moves from 2pm to 3pm to 4pm to...

    Motorcycle helmets:
    $4.50 in the supermarket
    We get home just before 5pm, 3 1/2 hours from the last stop. (That's how long it takes to drive from Jakarta to Bandung on a bad day.) Good thing we're with each other. W flips through radio stations. "Oh joy!" he says, finding an all-Disney music station.

    We read Matthew 18, today's daily passage from IES Jakarta. W notes the "believing children" and theological implications regarding the age of accountability. I mull how Jesus uses parables for more than one lesson. Here the lost sheep imply the value of every person, no matter how humble or childlike. In Luke, he stresses God's search for the lost. We wonder if Jesus knew the child he placed in the circle of disciples. "Did this youngster belong to one of his followers?"

    Discussing theology and how to live it out makes the time go faster. Not fast. Just faster.

    Ibu A has left us Nasi Goreng Ayam (fried chicken rice) and salad. And she's used a package of chocolate chips W brought from home to bake the sweetest-ever, oil-not-butter cookies. W likes them a lot. I brew myself a stiff pot of unsweetened black tea as accompaniment.
    The weather forecast this week: chance of rain, 100%.
    My hometown of Winnipeg kicks off the Christmas season with its annual Santa Claus parade today. We've also seen a few decorated Christmas trees in the malls of Bandung. Is it time to get out our little Christmas tree?

    The reflecting pool at Warung Ethnic
    We have one more appointment in the evening. W is still on German time so he's anxious about us being late. I send off edits on the journal article of a friend. We walk through the rain and dark to Ethnic. The potholed gravel road has been replaced by excellent paving. Wow! and eek. There are no curbs so the drop-off at the edge of the road can be over a foot down. We're seated at 6:30pm. The owners must be Christian: there's a Bible verse posted on the wall. Prices vary from $2 for local dishes to $30 for Australian steak. We've just eaten so it's tea and coffee for us. They have a limited number of menus. When others come in, the servers take our menus to their table.

    We're meeting an undergrad student from the FB group Expats in Bandung. He's on a motorcycle, texting back and forth as he tries to get to us. Normally, it's a 5-minute ride. It takes him 2 hours in the gridlock ... on a motor, which usually zips by the cars. Not this time. We're not sure what's going on. Reza has lived in Bandung most of his life. He says he's never seen traffic like today's.

    A pretty surprise on the guest bedding
    He arrives at 8:30pm, sheds his rain gear, and orders a strawberry smoothie. We have a great chat about his project - water desalinization and filtration - and his passion to be an entrepreneur. He'd like to come to our Open House in December. He explains a few Sundanese customs and asks if we'd like to visit his house. Of course, we'd love to.

    He remembers, "But my mother doesn't speak English." No worries, we say. He is fluent and can translate if he's willing.

    At bedtime, the sheets we washed are still wet. Laundry takes a long time to dry, even with the house-fans on. We pull out new "guest" bedding and - oooh, what a pretty surprise! The embroidery is cheerful and the duvet cover fits the blanket perfectly.

    Before crawling into bed, I ask W to check temperatures in the house. I am shivering cold after the walk home in the rain. I guess 65oF. His thermometer reads 82o. Brrr. Maybe I'm feeling the fan-moved air and the damp. The moist air is probably good for the skin. I put on a sweater.

    I'm reminded to pray for our friends in Tonga: Dave, Rhonda, and their son. They live with "wet air" all the time.

    Read more:
    *O Lord, I give my life to you. I trust in you, my God! Do not let me be disgraced, or let my enemies rejoice in my defeat.

    No one who trusts in you will ever be disgraced, but disgrace comes to those who try to deceive others. Show me the right path, O Lord; point out the road for me to follow. Lead me by your truth and teach me, for you are the God who saves me. All day long I put my hope in you. Psalm 25:1-5 NLT


    *It is I who by my great power and my outstretched arm have made the earth, with the people and animals that are on the earth, and I give it to whomsoever I please. Jeremiah 27:5 NEV

    *For this is the will of God, that by doing good you should put to silence the ignorance of foolish people. Live as people who are free, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but living as servants of God. 1 Peter 2:15-16 NEV

    *You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they existed and were created. Revelation 4:11 NEV

    Moravian Prayer: Loving Creator, you gave this wondrous world to us, your chosen children. Every day, we must do all we can to protect and nurture all that you created: sea and sky, rock and tree, beast and humankind, and treasure it as the gift of your power and love. This we ask in your name. Amen

    Friday, November 14, 2014

    Puppets and people

    I'll let the pictures tell the story.
    Two monkeys perform in the intersections at the traffic lights as we walk to school.
    This one walks on high stilts.  The other resignedly rides his little bike in circles, looking bored. 
    IES Jakarta uploads last weekend's photos. Ours make us laugh.
    I look tired but W looks like he's dreaming up new IT stuff.
    The new mixer and blender work great.
    Our helper passes a jasmine shrub on the way over. She plucks a few branches. The fragrance fills the house.
    We do a Google Hangout with our daughter-in-law and two adorable grandkids.
    The language school sets up a visit to a puppet-making factory Thursday. It's a "cultural event." The owner tells us she inherited the business from her father. 

    "The man in the corner is a master painter," she points out. "He's worked here for 40 years, since my father's time. Parents used to pass along the skills to their children, but now the children don't want to learn for such low wages. I think in 10 years, we will no longer have a factory." 


    Each employee has a specialty: the men carve and paint the faces. The women embroider cloth, assemble jewelry, and sew the costumes.

    Women and men from the villages work at the factory to earn extra money between harvests.
    Indonesia's version of Romeo and Juliet
    as beautiful puppets. These are nearly 2 1/2 feet tall.
    When we try our hand at painting faces and costumes on wooden pens, the results are not like the experts. However, Waldemar's pen is the best-looking - almost professional. We are in awe.

    We are growing to love the culture and the people here. Can you tell? We feel God's heart, urging us to embrace those who have not yet heard and to share Good News.

    Read more: 
    *Sing praises to God and to his name! Sing loud praises to him who rides the clouds. His name is the Lord - rejoice in his presence! Father to the fatherless, defender of widows - this is God, whose dwelling is holy. Psalm 68:4-5 NLT

    *Thus says the Lord God: Repent and turn away from your idols. Ezekiel 14:6 NEV

    *Barnabas they called Zeus, and Paul they called Hermes, because he was the chief speaker. When the apostles Barnabas and Paul heard of it, they tore their clothes and rushed out into the crowd, shouting, “Friends, why are you doing this? We are mortals just like you, and we bring you good news, that you should turn from these worthless things to the living God.” Acts 14:12,14-15 NEV

    Moravian Prayer: Lord, so many things blind us to you: health, money, family, responsibilities, reputation, recognition, personal goals. Please help us to follow and trust you in all things. Amen.

    C. S. Lewis, from The Problem of Pain:
    It has sometimes been asked whether God commands certain things because they are right, or whether certain things are right because God commands them. . . . I emphatically embrace the first alternative. The second might lead to the abominable conclusion . . . that charity is good only because God arbitrarily commanded it—that He might equally well have commanded us to hate Him and one another and that hatred would then have been right. I believe, on the contrary, that “they err who think that of the will of God to do this or that there is no reason besides His will.” God’s will is determined by His wisdom which always perceives, and His goodness which always embraces, the intrinsically good. 

    But when we have said that God commands things only because they are good, we must add that one of the things intrinsically good is that rational creatures should freely surrender themselves to their Creator in obedience. The content of our obedience—the thing we are commanded to do—will always be something intrinsically good, something we ought to do even if (by an impossible supposition) God had not commanded it. But in addition to
    the content, the mere obeying is also intrinsically good, for, in obeying, a rational creature consciously enacts its creaturely role, reverses the act by which we fell, treads Adam’s dance backward, and returns.