July journeys

Well, I fell off the bandwagon... again! It's been two months since the last blog, but can I tell you, it's because things have been going so good and we've been pedal-to-the-medal busy.

The month of July every year since we've been overseas has ended up as a travel month.
This year was no different.
We started the month with a trip to Bangkok for our family to do full physicals and medical screenings. This part wasn't so fun, but while we were in Bangkok we were able to pick up our mail. It had been six months since our last trip there, so we had several packages waiting on us. It was great! We can't receive mail in the country where we live, so everything gets sent to our company office in Bangkok and we pick it up whenever we're there to do our visa renewals. We were so excited to find boxes of goodies from friends in America there waiting on us.

Next we headed off to Chiang Mai in the northern part of Thailand for the girls to attend a camp for all our older company kids living in the mainlander section of Southeast Asia.
For them, camp is the highlight of the year.
It's the only opportunity for them to spend time with friends living lives just like they do in other countries and it's so encouraging for them. Actually, it's great for all of us since CJ and I always work at the camp each year too.

After a week of meetings with co-workers in Chiang Mai, our family went on a small vacation to Kanchanaburi, Thailand which is about a two hour drive from Bangkok.
We stayed in a rustic, yet peaceful resort on an island in the middle of the River Kwai. We did some sight-seeing at the Bridge Over the River Kwai (did you see the movie?) and visited a museum about the POWs and others who built what is called the Thai-Burma deathrail railroad during World War II. (They call it the deathrail because of the number of people killed  in the construction of the railroad including over 100,000 Burmese who died.)
We also got to go hiking in some nearby mountains that had beautiful waterfalls, and we enjoyed lots of fun sliding down the falls and swimming with fish.
It was restful and re-energizing and a great time for family fun. We made so many memories!

Now we're back in the saddle and excited about all the Good Work that is happening in our city. We are seeing Father doing some amazing things and it's so fun to be a part of it all.
In five months we'll be returning to the States to spend some time sharing about our "work" with friends and partners in America. We can't wait to tell you all the many stories that we're just unable to share publicly on the internet.
We will only be Stateside for six months and we have so much to accomplish during our time there. We're already filling in calendar dates for places to visit and speak.
If you would like for us to come speak at your "Gathering Place" send us an email (seepy1@gmail.com) and let us know when would be a good time. We look forward to seeing you all soon.

We have lots of neat things happening during the coming months, and I promise to do a better job of blogging.
Until then, keep looking up!

Kenny Rogers, the Eagles and tears on my cheeks

So, our car broke down.... again.
It happens a lot, so we're kinda accustomed to it.
Recently when our car broke down in the middle of a busy intersection, the girls and I had to jump out (in our best Sunday dress) and push it to the side while CJ steered it. He was driving and we didn't have time to switch. We did get lots of stares and gaping mouths, even more than we usually do.
Also we had some visitors come in town once and when our car broke down then and we had to get out and push, my friend kept wanting to take pictures of the whole ordeal.
"I've never had a car break down in the middle of the road before," she said excitedly. She said it was one of her favorite experiences of her trip here.
So glad we could provide her that opportunity (said with heavy sarcasm.)

Anyway, I'm not complaining. We're really thankful just to have a vehicle and normally we just take it to the shop and it gets fixed. Easy-peasy. No problem.
But this time, the car repair shop was full and they said it would be a week until they could look at it.
Thankfully, we have some co-workers who are currently Stateside and so our logistics coordinator said we could borrow their car until ours gets fixed.
The borrowed car is the exact same make and model as our car, but the only difference is, the borrowed car has a radio in it!
Our regular car doesn't have a radio and when you have to sit in traffic for several hours, you really notice the absence of music.
So the fact that this borrowed car has a radio is a big deal!

This morning, I had a language class and then had to run some errands downtown.
When I got in the car, I noticed that the previous drivers had left some music cds in the glove compartment, and much to my delight, one of them was an "Oldies, but Goldies" collection.
I just can't express how great it was to have music in the car. It really made the traffic seem not as bothersome and I didn't mind so much having to sit in bumper to bumper stand-stills for long durations.

As I sat there enjoying some beloved ENGLISH language songs, the memories associated with those songs also came flooding in.
There was an old Kenny Rogers song that played, and it took me back to when I was a little girl riding in the car with my mom who loved to play Kenny Rogers on the 6-track. We used to sing those songs at the top of our lungs while driving down the road. Before long, I had tears running down my cheeks.
"What's wrong?" my friend who was with me in the car asked me.
"I miss my mom!" I whined.
The emotions connected to songs I haven't heard in so long just bowled me over.
There were Elvis Presley songs that reminded me of when my uncle used to dress up as Elvis and perform.
There were songs that reminded me of my grandmother who recently passed away. She loved Dolly Parton and other country music.
There were songs that reminded me of my high school days and the friends from there I miss so much.
There were some Eagles songs that reminded of the long drives I used to make from Samford back to Nashville during college breaks.

It's amazing the power music has to bring back memories and fond experiences.
Today, it made me miss home.

Often we're so busy here, running around doing stuff all day, everyday, until we come home and crash at night. We just don't have time to think about all that we're missing.
And I guess, that could be a good thing.
But then sometimes those feelings come washing over you, and it can be really hard.

I'm so thankful for the "job" that we get to do and the place where we get to live, but it doesn't come without challenges.
Missing family and friends at home is just one of those challenges.

I think my friend in the car with me was really worried because I kept crying the whole day.
I assured her it was tears of happiness because I have so many wonderful memories and loved ones that I made those memories with.
"Maybe next time, we shouldn't play the music," she thought out loud.
Well, soon we'll have our regular car back and so it won't be an issue.
But for today, I was grateful for the trip down memory lane and the wonderful music of my youth.

I'll leave you with some sage advice from the brilliant Kenny Rogers:

You've got to know when to hold 'em
Know when to fold 'em
Know when to walk away
Know when to run
You never count your money
When you're sittin' at the table
There'll be time enough for countin'
When the dealin's done.

I think that song'll preach!
Amen.

Warning: this may be painful

"That's just not the way I was brought up..."

Have you ever said that before?
In the past, those words have always meant something good.
Like when I saw some other kid being disrespectful to their parents, I would say, "That's just not the way I was brought up." - I was taught to use good manners and treat elders with courtesy.
Or when there were people who didn't go to church on Sunday because something else got in the way - whether that something else was worthwhile or not - I would typically say, "That's just not the way I was brought up." - I was raised up going to Sunday morning service every single Sunday, no matter what.

Well, all those things are fine and good, but I've come to understand, living in a foreign culture, that the way I was brought up doesn't always fly over here.
I'll give a funny example. (Well, it will be funny for my Western friends.)
Here, it's pretty common to see someone picking their nose in public. They don't find anything wrong with that and you see it being done pretty much everywhere.
Opposite to that, they find it very rude to pick in your teeth here or even using a toothpick. That is something that should only be done in private without anyone else being able to see you.
My American culture is just the opposite of that, right?
It's not that my American way is right, and the SEA way is wrong or vice versa. It's just that our cultures and traditions are quite different.

Another thing, everyone here wears longyis (long skirts from waist to ankle wrapped around the lower body and tied with a knot at the top). Both men and women wear the longyis.
You ever seen a man in America wearing a long skirt?
Probably not, unless it's for some special occasion.
Here, it's more common to see a man in a longyi than wearing pants.
"That's just not the way I was brought up," would probably be the typical response for a Westerner visiting this part of the world.
And that's ok, unless you want to be a part of the culture where you are.
Which brings me to my point.
I frequently have to ask myself, "Do I want to separate myself from the local people and be more like a visitor or do I want to embrace this culture and try to relate and understand their way of life?"
Oh, I will always be an American (and proud of it!)
I will always be a "white face."
But I have tried very hard to be a part of the culture here and not isolated from it - i.e. speaking the language, dressing like the locals, and taking on some of their habits.
I frequently have to question some of my traditions to discern whether these practices help me to reach the people where I live or do they segregate me?

For instance, like I mentioned earlier, I was brought up to go to church on Sunday mornings. From 10am - noon, every Sunday like clockwork, you could find me in the big brick church with the steeple on top.
And that's the way it's supposed to be, right?
Well, what if you have a job - a job you're thankful for because it means you can feed yourself and your whole family - but you have to work everyday from sun-up to sun-down? Everyday including Sundays.
What if you have to attend school on Sundays? (They have school here every day of the week. They don't have weekends here. In fact there's not even a word in their language that means "weekend.")
What if there are no brick buildings with a big steeple on top?

Please hear me. I'm not saying that any of our Western traditions are bad.
I'm just trying to point out that sometimes we have to change our way of thinking in order to do whatever it is that God wants us to do.

In the book of Mark, chapter seven, verse eight, we read: "You have let go of the commands of God and are holding on to the traditions of men."
This was Jesus talking to the religious leaders of his day.
He was telling them that what began as good intentions - good habits and traditions of following God - had become rituals with no meaning. The leaders were more concerned with how to do the rituals and who was doing them, rather than focusing on the meaning and purpose of those rituals.

As I read that passage this morning, I began to question myself again as I so frequently do.
"Lord, are there traditions or habits that I'm holding on to that keep me from doing what you want me to do?"

Can I challenge you with this same thought?
What is it that's hindering you from doing what God wants you to do?
Is it a tradition that's been engrained in you from your earliest days? - "That's just the way I was brought up!"
Maybe it's your culture and the practices of your culture that separate you from the people God wants you to share His love with. (We have many cultures such as a Southern culture, or a teenager culture or a professional culture, etc.)
Maybe it's even the concept we have of ourselves and the things we hold dear that isolate us from others.

Whatever it is, if it keeps us from doing His will, then we need to lay it down.
Even if it goes against the norm.
Even if it makes me stand out from the crowd.
Even if it brings persecution.
Even if it brings judgement and scorn.
If it means doing what He wants you to do, are you willing?

Planning in Paradise

In January of this year, our family took on the Strategy Coordinator role for our city. And now that we've met our required language proficiency and have begun a phase of full-time engagement, the question we've received most often is, "So what are you going to do to reach the six million people living in your city?"
That's a good question!
How do two people, well four actually, set about to share the Good News with that many people?
It's a daunting task and a little overwhelming to say the least.
That's why when we were offered the opportunity to attend a strategy planning conference, we jumped at the chance.
This conference purported to help us discover Father's vision for our people group and determine a strategy for implementation to help us work towards that vision. It was exactly what we needed!
The conference was held in Penang, Malaysia which is on a beautiful island in the Andaman sea off the Malaysian coast.

We were there to work, and work we did from 8am to 5pm every day. Our daughters helped to babysit the younger kids of the other families who were there while we were in our trainings everyday.

But on the weekend we got to enjoy the tropical destination and have a little fun.

Our company has a guest house there, so we stayed in a home-type setting with a nice kitchen, a comfortable living area and an outdoor patio.

We also took full benefit of the assortment of Western food restaurants in Penang as well as Mexican food and Mediterranean foods that we just don't have access to in the city where we live.

It really was a rewarding time both "professionally" and personally.

In the end, we left the conference with a feeling of direction, and now back at home we're ready and excited to implement the action plan we feel Father has directed us to.

Would you please take a few minutes right now to pray for our family as we strive to see Father's will done in this place? Please pray that He would put people in our path who will partner with us and who also have a heart for seeing their own people come to J.C.
Pray that Father's kingdom would spread throughout this city until everyone has the opportunity to know Him.

Third Culture Kid

Zoë is always writing raps and poems about her life. It's her creative outlet.
I thought this was a great description of a Third Culture Kid's (TCK) life, and I hope by sharing, you'll have a little more insight into her world.


TCK
(by Zoë Johnson)

Saying goodbye from friend to friend,
not knowing what to expect but doing what you can,
looking around and knowing you're different,
maybe not always being the center of attention....
But that's ok, you're not alone.
Not quite sure about the definition of home,
but wherever you go you're making a change.
Go to the next chapter. Don't stay on the same page.
Now go make a difference and stand on your stage.
Be brave. Be bold. You're a TCK! :)


As you read this, please remember to pray for Zoë and Miá.
Their biggest challenge is there is almost no one else like them living where we do.
It can be isolating and lonely at times.
Yet they are doing good.
I'm so proud of the young women they are becoming and the light they shine for Father everywhere they go.
Pray for believer friends for them in this place.
Pray for their safety and well-being.
Pray that they would grow in Father's wisdom and seek Him first above everything else.

Decisions

I love to watch House Hunters International on TV. It’s my favorite show and pretty much the only thing I will take time to sit down and watch.
This show features an individual or a family who is moving to a foreign country, and in doing so, must find a place to live. On every show, a realtor will show them three houses or apartments and then they make a choice. It happens really quick – maybe it’s just because it’s on tv – but they see the places, often all in one day, and then they pick one.
I’m always amazed at how quickly they come to their decision. Have you ever had to look for a new place to live? I just don’t think I could ever make any important decision that quick.

Lately it’s something I’ve been dealing with – making decisions. Hard decisions. Difficult choices. So when I see someone who is capable of such quick decisiveness, I’m a little in awe.
For me, no decision is ever made without extensive prayer. Even simple ones.

I had a local friend invite me to go visit another friend who lives in a city very far away. In order to get there, we’ll have a two day bus ride to another city where we’ll catch a big boat, go up-river for several hours to another drop point. From there it’s a bumpy Jeep ride through mountainous terrain for about six hours to our final destination.
In the back of my mind, I keep hearing my mother say, “Julie, it’s not safe for two young girls to travel so far alone.” It’s amazing how she engrained that into my psyche so well that it’s still with me, even though I’m no longer a young girl.
Yet, I would love to have the opportunity to go to a place where few foreigners get to go and maybe have the chance to share the Good News there.
So I’ve been praying….
This morning I was out on my daily “exploration,” listening to my music all the while and talking with Father. I was asking him what to do in this particular situation when a song came on called “Never Once” by One Sonic Society. I knew the words were Him speaking to me:
Never once did we ever walk alone.
Never once did you leave us on our own.
You are faithful, God,
You are faithful.

It’s so true.
And I knew in that moment, I must go.

There’s been another decision, a bigger decision, that lately our family has been facing. Actually it was a decision we weren’t even contemplating until we felt Father speaking to us about a change that needed to be made.
Before coming overseas, we continually prayed about our children’s need for education. I never felt called to homeschool and just really didn’t even want to consider it. We were so thankful when we came here and discovered there was an international school the girls could attend. I truly believe that God opened the doors and laid the path for them to go there, and even though it was never a bed of roses, the girls were happy there.
Until lately.
Recently we began confronting what I can only call spiritual warfare. It just felt like the door was closing on the time for the girls to go to ISM. I was nervous. I was confused. I was unsure. Yet through it all, I felt like God was trying to give me peace, telling me He was in control of it all.
Then recently when I was on a trip alone, with lots of time to myself for praying and spending time in the Word, out of the blue, I felt like God said to me, “You need to homeschool the girls.”
Oddly enough, I wasn’t scared at the thought and it was as if God had just shined the light on the path in front of us, showing the way.
Oh, I’ve still dealt with feelings of inadequacy, and I’ve worried about how to provide opportunities for sports and activities and socialization for our kids.
But I’ve talked with friends and co-workers and prayed some more, and through it all, I’ve felt encouraged and inspired.
Even the girls have really started to embrace the idea – which can honestly only be the result of divine intervention. Zoë has felt God speaking to her in these days, showing her that this is where He’s leading her.
Miá also is excited at the idea and the greater opportunities she feels homeschooling will give her to participate in the work our family has been called here to do.
It’s just been so neat to see how God has enabled us to make this decision and has shown us that He will walk with us every step of the way.

Decisions, big or small, are sometimes answered quickly and sometimes not so fast. Yet if there’s anything I know, it’s that for everything there is a season, and He will guide our path through change and transition and through everything that comes our way if we allow Him to.

When I find myself hesitating or doubtful or maybe even a little fearful of what I know He’s called me to do, I go back to a favorite passage in II Timothy 1:7 which says, “For God did not give us a spirit of fearfulness, but a spirit of POWER, of love and of self-discipline.”

Maybe that’s how those House Hunters make their decisions so easily too!

Answer the door!

Revelation 3:20 – “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.”

At our apartment in this city, we have only one front door to go in and out. There’s no back entrance or even a fire escape. There’s just the one door.

And in that door, there is no peep hole – you know the little hole in the door that allows you to look through and see who’s on the other side.

So if we hear a knock at the door, we cannot know who is on the other side. We must open the door to see who is waiting there.

Sometimes we open the door to see good friends. Often there are people selling things or bringing by our bills. Sometimes we hear a knock at the door and it’s just not a convenient time so we don’t open it at all.

My favorite time is on Monday nights when our friends who come to our weekly Good Book study group come walking in. They have learned not to knock. They just come straight in (like family would) and I absolutely love that! Actually when we hear someone knocking at the door on Monday nights, we automatically know it’s someone new or a visitor because our “regulars” never knock.

Anyway… I’ve been thinking a lot lately about open doors.

Open doors represent access.

Closed doors, well, they’re the opposite. I guess.

There’s an area near where we live where I’ve been “working” lately. It’s kinda become a habit: exploring an area, talking to the people I come across, trying to turn the conversation into something that opens the door for me to talk about Father.

Well, I had been having good response in this one neighborhood (so I thought.) The people there had become accustomed to seeing me regularly come through their village. We would talk and play together with their children. I would tell them “stories” from the Good Book and sometimes they asked questions. Often they would simply smile and say they had to leave.

I understand when that happens. It doesn’t hurt my feelings.

I know the things I’m telling them rock their world.

These “stories” go completely against everything they’ve ever been told and how they’ve been taught to “believe.”

But I keep trying because I think maybe Father may stir in someone’s soul and open their heart to understand.

There was a period of about two weeks when I was unable to go to this particular neighborhood. Travel and other obligations got in the way as it often happens.

So yesterday was the first day I had the opportunity to return to this area and I was excited to see what I would find.

Would the people be happy to see me?

Maybe they’ve been thinking about the stories I told them and they have questions.

It was with excited anticipation that I set out walking to this area.

As I was walking, I was listening with headphones to Kristian Stanfill’s “Forever Reign,” singing along, praying and praising as I went.

I had reached the dirt path that leads out to the neighborhood when a wiry, middle-aged man approached me. He was just standing in the middle of the road, as if he were waiting on me.

“The gate is closed,” he said. “You may not go through.”

There is an iron gate between high, cement walls that separates the neighborhood I was going to from the area where I live, but in the past, the gate has always been open. The people who live in the neighborhood frequently come and go through the gate to go about their daily tasks, yet now the gate was boarded up in such a way that one couldn’t even see through with a large iron padlock keeping it closed.

“Why is it locked?” I asked the man.

“You can’t go through anymore,” was his reply.

I was speaking his language, so I knew he understood my question.

“Ok. Ok. No problem,” I said, trying to instill calmness through the building tension, and I turned around and began walking back.

Inside, my stomach sank.

Closed doors.

No access.

Lost opportunities.

I was feeling down.

I began walking around aimlessly.

It was in this mindset that I stumbled upon another “neighborhood” where I found a hoard of children outside playing.

School is now closed for their summer break here, and so the area children were enjoying the coolness of the morning to play some kind of game, tossing around a wooden ball.

I chatted briefly with some of the young women who were sitting around the edges watching the kids while doing simple chores. And while I was happy to find a new neighborhood that didn’t appear to have any gates blocking access, I was still thinking of my other friends and trying to figure out how to get back there.

That’s when I remembered there was another way!

There’s a hospital nearby (on the other side of the village) that’s doing some construction. They also have put up barriers to keep nosy people (like me) from coming in but often because of all the dump trucks that are coming and going they leave one gate open. I happened upon it recently in another one of my exploring ventures.

It’s quite a long way to get there, but it was worth a try.

I stayed on the main roads, walking the distance until I came upon the sandy, dusty path for the construction vehicles.

One of the good things about being a foreigner here is that often people don’t ask us questions. They think we won’t understand their language or they think we’re simply lost, so while they watch us closely, we are able to continue on.

And so I did.

Much to my delight, when I arrived at the gate, I found it open. Actually a big truck was coming through the gate just as I arrived.

I had to cover my face with my shirt sleeve to keep from inhaling all the grit being kicked up behind the truck, but I was able to enter.

Finally, I was able to get to the area where my friends lived.

The kids were happy to see me.

The parents didn’t have much to say, but it didn’t bother me. I was just so happy to have found a way in. I think they were a little surprised to see I was there.

This is a view of our apartment building from the neighborhood nearby.

Nothing great happened from the experience.

I didn’t find anyone there any more “open” then before.

If there was any small victory it was purely in the fact that I was able to get in.

Long after I had returned home, washed off the sweat and dirt from the day and was relaxing in my chair with a cup of coffee, this passage of scripture was still ringing in my mind as it had been all day long.

“I stand at the door and knock.”

For so many who are lost, Father is there knocking on the door to their hearts.

To me, the passage implies that He continues to knock and He continues to wait for those who would open the door to Him.

Don’t you know, heaven is just on the other side of that door?!?

As we follow His leading, we will continue to seek out those who need to hear the Message, but we need your prayers!

Prayers for fortitude.

Prayers for perseverance.

Prayers for wisdom and discernment.

Most importantly, pray that the lost will open the door to Him who stands there and knocks. Eternal and abundant life are waiting there.

Answer the door!