Monthly Archives: March 2012

Shadowy Questions

I read the lines and for some reason felt smitten. Deep inside, the question arose. If the writer knew everything, would they write what they did?

 

This was the setting. The note had been sent a little while ago. In it was a tendering of thanks for services offered in the line of work that I’m currently engaged in. The note was brief but among the latter lines was expressed the firm belief that I would be blessed by helping those that God brings into my life. Reading that, my heart thudded a touch heavier and instantly my mind flitted away to…scenes….peoples…thoughts.

 

Perfection is not one of my attributes. Never has been, never will be, irregardless of what I may think at times. And it’s people who bring out the worst in me. They may not draw it out of me into visible action but inside, I know. And I wonder, if people knew how often I must deal with my unconquered self nature and how it threatens to burst out at times, if I’d enjoy the measure of respect I enjoy of those around me?

 

On top of this are questions of effectiveness…of how I’ll be viewed after my departure…of my term and how my standing was and will be with those whom I worked among. Maybe these are illegitimate questions. The pat answer is to step out in faith and live, leaving the results to God. And I want to…but the questions still lurk.

Categories: Paraguayan Parables | 1 Comment

Like A Alabaster Jar

O to be like alabaster! I know, random. Definitely. But, like always, this blog is in correlation with me myself. Surprising? Shouldn’t be as I write this blog. And in keeping with myself, here’s to a wonderment on why more Christians don’t want to be like alabaster jars. They all want to be missionaries, teachers, students and the most harmful and damaging position to be in of all, benchwarmers. Those that when given a ministry in the church turn it down. They don’t want to draw attention to themselves. They think they will flop it. They think that people will laugh at them, that they can’t do it as good as person B no, that B doesn’t stand for “Beachy” could. Willing to sit there invisible, they invariably protest when some action occurs that makes them feel unseen. But these people can be transformed. Deep down inside, they want to feel…precious…desired…to be seen as priceless…worth something…they long to feel useful/to be used. (now, I must clarify. I have NOT done a survey on this demographic of churchgoers but knowing a little of human nature…I feel that these are educated accurate guesses) What is this transformation?

Becoming like alabaster! That’s right. Alabaster was…precious…a desired commodity…seen as very expensive, ergo priceless. But it was shut up in a box, hermetically sealed from the rest of the world. The only, the ONLY way it was worth a denari was if it’s exterior was broken, cracked or crushed. Then and only then, was it able to be like it was designed. Designed to anoint and designate someone of high status, how could this be accomplished in a dark and sealed container? In like fashion, all Christians, not just the benchwarmer section I highlighted, in order to anoint the Church with that glow of sanctified service and to designate it as worthy of all allegiance, must be broken. They must willfully break themselves and allow the Spirit of God to flow through them, anointing their daily activities and in response, their lives emit that beautiful, priceless, fragrance of spirituality that is, sadly, so rare.

Now some might take issue or think that using absolutes to describe this brokenness. I do not apologize. My friends, there IS…NO…WAY around this point. One must…one MUST…be broken to be of ANY worth for the kingdom of Heaven. Maybe this is second hand stuff to some of my readers and at this point of their lives, they know this concept and are living it. But it’s a lesson that, at times, needs to be relearned. It’s been one that, since the start of the year, has been taught repeatedly to me. And I know that some of my readers are in units of service. These places are precious places of growth but land mines for personal failure if one is not alert. And seemingly, there is more pressure to live Christianly at these places. Can human will/ability avail to give the necessary strength to live just like that? The answer is a resounding NO. The only answer is the brokenness of alabaster and by doing so, we become like that holy, priceless, perfumed commodity.

As mentioned, this blog and its posts follow me and my place in life. The following song was recorded by a group years ago and tonight, I rediscovered its deep truth. It is a wholly holy song. The words stir in me a conviction. A conviction to do likewise. Humanly, to break is to fail. But that was Jesus’s example to us. He spared no expense and was used up for me. Que preciosa!

 

Broken and Spilled Out

One day a plain village woman,

Driven by love for her Lord,

Recklessly poured out a valuable essence,

Disregarding the scorn…

 

And once it was broken and spilled out,

The fragrance filled all the room,

Like a prisoner released from his shackles,

Like a spirit set free from the tomb.

 

Broken and spilled out…just for love of You, Jesus,

My most precious treasure…lavished on Thee,

Broken and spilled out…and poured at your feet,

In sweet abandon…let me be spilled out…and used up for Thee.

 

Lord, you were God’s precious treasure,

His love His own perfect Son,

Sent here to show us the love of the Father,

Just for love it was done,

 

And though You were perfect and holy,

You gave of Yourself willingly,

You spared no expense for my pardon,

You were used up and wasted for me.

 

Broken and spilled out…just for love of me, Jesus,

God’s most precious treasure…lavished on me,

Broken and spilled out…and poured at my feet,

In sweet abandon…Lord, You were spilled out…and used up for me.

 

In sweet abandon…let me be spilled out…and used up for Thee.

EJ

Categories: About life | 1 Comment

Arrested

Savior, today You arrested me, Yes, me, Eric J Beachy,

No one noticed it at all, and for help, I did not call.

It wasn’t at the start of the day but toward the end,

That you came and the charge was that I didn’t bend.

 

I didn’t bend to your nudge, I kept living and didn’t budge.

You gave me my freedom, and allowed me to live.

And I lived……and thought to have escaped

But at the day’s end, I had lived a fake.

 

So you arrested me…and my attention you now have,

Your appeal was to live in your strength and I had laughed.

But what foolishness…what weakness…what hopelessness,

I was a fool to believe that I could live under my own rule.

 

So Officer take me, and don’t bother posting bail,

I desire to live joyfully, outside of self’s jail,

And though in your presence, I am again free,

Dear Lord, should I e’er forget this lesson, arrest me

Categories: Paraguayan Parables | Leave a comment

Valentine’s Supper Pictures

For all the voiced complaint in the last post, Valentine’s suppers are photogenic. Ours was a candlelit, outside supper and drawn by lot. The latter two were great; the first…well, see the previous post. It’s a element that fits into that rant. But, notwithstanding, the photos were there. They only needed capturing. Here’s some of them.

         

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IMG_5024                     22170218                       22170288                  22170204

 

IMG_5033                          IMG_4975

Categories: Paraguayan Parables | Leave a comment

The Little Niños

 

122160126                                               122160128                     

                                         122160156                                            122160165

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                 122160170       122280407                 122280398

These 3 were supposed to leave Friday morning but due to a oversight, they are remaining in Paraguay for one more day. Phebe, the oldest of these three, has a expired passport and it will take a week till a new one can be gotten. It seems surreal having them around, having said the goodbyes and all. But, I don’t mind having them around a little longer. They are dear little ones and have worked themselves into my heart. Different personalities but one family. A family, I think, I have unofficially adopted.

EJ

Categories: Paraguayan Parables | Leave a comment

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