Family Matters, Missions, Uncategorized

Where is Home?

The other day I was looking for a file on my computer, and I came across this “almost finished” poem that I began writing 10 years ago, when we lived in Tanzania. Now, here we are 10 years later, back in Tanzania. I read it to George and he urged me to finish it and share it. So, I finished it and now I’m sharing it. 🙂 I don’t share it to solicit pity, concern, or anything of the sort. If you are wondering if I’m okay, I am! Some days, maybe not so much, ha! But that’s just life!

The reason I am sharing my poem is to give you a peek into the struggles that missionaries have from time to time. Of course, struggles are not unique to me, missionaries, or anyone, for that matter. Everyone has them, no matter where one is planted on this globe. Rest assured, our blessings are too numerous to count; however, blessings do not shield us from burdens. Missionaries do have some rather unique and often challenging circumstances that just come with the territory. In this poem, I have tried to describe some of MY struggles. So here you go:

Where is Home?

 From time to time when I was a child, I heard of foreign lands,
 I wondered what it would be like, if one day I tried my hand?
  
 Maybe someday I would be blessed to be a missionary's wife,
 What would it be like, where would I go, if I were to live such a life?
  
 God blessed me with a man, who with his whole heart loved God,
 Together we lived, loved, and learned, and eventually moved to foreign sod.
  
 We moved far away across the globe to share God's Word with the lost.
 We left family, friends, and comforts of home, no matter what the cost.
  
 Our new home consisted of cracked cement, all faces we met were new.
 The language we heard was strange to us, the benches were not padded pews.
  
 Folks stared at us, and yelled out names, they weren’t trying to be unkind.
 What a relief to find a retreat; to relax and try to unwind.
  
 We’ve learned new customs, the do's and don'ts, more than we can count.
 But sometimes the loneliness sets right in, until tears flow free like a fount.
  
 We fumble to communicate as we pass along the way.
 Yet we cannot probe their hearts; they smile, and then turn away.
  
 Is this how it will always be, on the outside looking in?
 I want to know - will it feel like home?  And if so - when?
  
 Always different, never the same, not accepted as “one of them.”
 I try to be strong, as the day is long, but oh, how I miss my kin.
  
 We've left the land we've always known and moved far away to another.
 No more do we get to visit with our brother, sister, father, mother.
  
 Some folks will write occasionally, and a box or rare letter we’ll find.
 But you know how the old saying goes, out of sight, out mind.
  
 Time has passed, we've settled in, we've adapted to a new way of life.
 Yet once in a while, there are pangs in the heart, and it causes internal strife.
  
 Life is so different from what it used to be; where do I belong?
 I don't know where I want to be; are these feelings right or wrong?
  
 Where is home?  Here or there, I’m not sure. But still, I have a bed.
 My Savior, when he sojourned on the earth, had no place to lay his head.
  
 God called me to be a pilgrim, so on earth I’ll continue to roam.
 And one of these days I’ll hear the Lord say “Pilgrim, Welcome home.” 
~Joy~

Uncategorized

A Tribute to My Father

Wayne Jackson
(1937-2020)

My Dad left this earthly life December 2, 2020. A memorial service was scheduled for tomorrow, December 19. However, due to Covid, that memorial service has been cancelled, or at least postponed. This tribute was to be read at his memorial service.

Words fail me, as I attempt to express my love and appreciation for my earthly father. Both Dad and Mom have not only been my physical parents, but also my spiritual teachers. I will be forever grateful for their love and guidance.

What a blessing for Jared, Jason, and me to have spent our entire growing-up years attending one congregation. I am so grateful for the East Main congregation and their willingness to grant my Dad the freedom to work for the church and to develop his unique talents, without placing upon him the yoke of man-made expectations. That is a blessing that relatively few preachers enjoy, and it allowed him to flourish. Dad had been invited, on several occasions, to move and preach elsewhere, but he chose to stay. He loved his East Main brethren. From preaching in the pulpit, to sitting on a hospital floor with the grieving, dad humbly served his East Main family for 56 years.

I cannot remember a time when Dad “slept in”. There was rarely a day that his study light did not burn brightly before the dawn of day. He wrote down the gleanings from his bible study using pen and paper, and then graduated to an IBM typewriter. Later on, much to his chagrin, he conceded to using a computer. I am so very thankful for the blessing of sitting at his feet, listening to his teaching and preaching. Few people knew that Dad would get physically ill before preaching, because he took the responsibility so seriously. He preached with passion and conviction. He had the rare ability to present complicated subjects in an easy to understand manner. I remember attending various debates he engaged in through the years, and my heart was full as I witnessed him defend the truth with skill and grace. Now, through Dad’s posthumous teaching, he will continue to challenge me in my spiritual walk.

I have never regretted growing up in a preacher’s family; in fact, I count it a blessing. For many years, I thought our family was normal, but eventually I learned better. The laughter and fellowship that was enjoyed around our dining table are memories that I treasure. There were many times that we’d stop by Centro-Mart on the way home from services to buy fixings for soup and sandwiches, because Dad and Mom had invited someone over for an impromptu meal. It was especially entertaining when other preachers would visit. When I was quite young and had to go to bed before company left, I would sneak out of bed so that I could listen to the joking and ensuing laughter. Dad’s quick wit kept his sense of humor in fine form.

The love that Dad and Mom had for the Lord and for one another, permeated our home. Mom has been a wonderful helpmeet by his side. Because of Mom’s Proverbs 31 lifestyle, Dad had the freedom to devote his life to preaching and writing, unencumbered by unnecessary distractions. It has always been evident in our home that Mom’s spiritual convictions are her own, and not merely a shadowing of dad’s. Their positive examples created within me the desire to marry a preacher. 

If Dad were present today, he would be very uncomfortable with the attention directed towards him. He did what he did, not to receive the praise of men, but out of love for and devotion to his heavenly Father. The highest complement you could give Dad would be to live your life with courage and conviction, as a wholly devoted and faithful servant to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Missions

Here We Go….Again!

Where are we going, you ask?

After much prayer and pondering, we have decided to return to work in Tanzania!

You see, when we left Tanzania in 2012 to return to the U.S., we left part of our hearts there. We’ve been back on three different occasions, and it has tugged at us each time. For quite a while, George and I have had a growing desire to return to full-time mission work. So, we have decided to return to Tanzania and devote some more time to that work. To some, it may seem like a sudden decision, but actually, it’s been brewing for quite a while.

Additionally, the goal is to be in a position that allows more flexibility to respond to other teaching opportunities that may arise, such as when we went to Greenland at the beginning of this year. It was so frustrating to have to come back home in just two weeks. We continue to have online classes every week with our new convert there, but going back in person is not even an option for us at this present time, due to Covid travel restrictions. Perhaps one of these days, when the pandemic dies down and countries open back up to normal travel, we will have the opportunity to do so.

Some people may find it difficult to understand why, once again, we would move further away from our dear family. We’re already spread out, as it is. We’re not claiming that it’s easy. In fact, this time it is much more difficult – leaving aging parents, our children, and, oh my heart, moving even further away from our grandchildren.

Then why? Why do it?

It’s the love of Christ that compels us to do it.

Christ, “who, existing in the form of God, counted not the being on an equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being made in the likeness of men; and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, becoming obedient even unto death, yea, the death of the cross.” Philippians 2:6-8.

Christ left His heavenly home, giving up what was rightfully His, in exchange for servanthood; living a life of humility that culminated in His death. When I ponder what He has done for me, how can I not be willing to leave my loved ones for a time, and cross the globe for Him?

Throughout the Scriptures we read of people like Abraham and Sarah, whom God called – to leave family, friends, and the familiarity of home, in order to carry out His plan… a plan that they didn’t even fully understand. Yet, when God said “go”, they went.

In no way do we feel that we are anywhere remotely on par with the great heroes of faith we read about throughout the Scriptures. Far, far from it! But here we are, on this side of the cross. We get to experience the promise that the Old Testament characters could only dream about. When I think of the reality of forgiveness, the blessings of being in Christ’s body (the church), and when I ponder the promise and hope of heaven, surely then, I can go too.

This life is oh so temporary and the days are rushing by more quickly than ever, so it seems. How we spend “the rest of our time” matters, especially while we still have health and energy.

In our feeble humanness, it is often difficult to assess where we might be of the most benefit for the sake of the kingdom. And so….we think, we pray, we ponder, we pray, we analyze, and we pray some more. Then, we do our best to make those decisions.

We are scheduled to leave mid-January. It will be a much simpler undertaking this time around. Just the two of us, with our carry-on luggage and two checked suitcases each.

Will you pray for us?

Uncategorized

And the Bride Wore…White?

A short perusal through history will reveal that the white wedding dress is generally a tradition that has become more prominent only in the last 100 years or so. Before Queen Victoria’s wedding in 1840, most brides wore popular colors of the day. At that time, blue was a symbol of purity, and therefore many brides wore blue on their wedding day. Since Queen Victoria wore a lavishly decorated white wedding dress, trends turned at that point. Fancy white wedding dresses were still reserved for the wealthy; ordinary folks certainly could not afford a dress that would only be worn once. After department stores became commonplace, white wedding dresses were much more available and attainable for your average person, and by 1890, the white wedding dress was the acceptable norm. In the early 1900’s, one might have worn a simple white wedding dress, but have it dyed after the wedding, so that the dress could continue to be used.

Although human traditions come and go, white garments do represent purity in a biblical context.  Revelation 3:5 states that those who overcome are wearing white, and their names will not be blotted out of the book of life. Revelation 7:14 refers to someone whose garments had turned white, because the garments had been washed in the blood of the Lamb. These are just a couple of verses indicating that God chose white garments to represent individuals who had their sins washed away; those who were spiritually pure.

What about brides today?  White, and sometimes ivory, are still the color of choice for a wedding dress.  While white traditionally symbolizes purity, the reality is that sadly, for many brides the color is meaningless.  How many young women stand before God in marriage, having already given away  their most precious gift, which should have been saved for her husband, to present to him on their wedding day? How many young women stand before God on their wedding day, with a child already growing their womb?  In other words, how many young women are outwardly adorned in white, but their spiritual garments are stained by sin?

When it comes down to it, the actual color of your dress on your wedding day is rather inconsequential. Colors have meant different things throughout the ages, and to this day they still symbolize different things in different cultures. What really matters? The color of your spiritual garment. Your purity. (Let me be clear, God has the same standard for young men, as well.)

Determine that no matter what, you will save your gift and give it only to your husband, after you are married. However, if you have given away your gift but you are not yet married, do not despair. Through genuine repentance, your tainted garment can be restored to white once again.

What will be the color of your spiritual garment on your wedding day?