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Crossing Cultures Devotional Memoir

Makeshift altar

Our firstborn was 14 weeks old when we moved overseas. En route to Pakistan. 

The week before we left America, I held her close and wept. Quietly. With the door shut. In the bedroom at my in-laws’ home.

I asked the Lord, “What are we doing to our little girl?” 

The weight of leaving what we knew and going to the unknown hit me hard that day as I rocked Becca in my arms. 

But we finished packing our trunks and suitcases. Then boarded the Thai Airways flight across the ocean.

On our way. 1992.

Waiting in Thailand 

We landed in Bangkok to wait for our visa to Pakistan. It was to be a long wait. 

So we lived in several temporary houses. And took a “Survival Thai” language course.

We got involved in a local church. Made new friends. And discovered Thai cuisine–which continues to be one of our favorites.

Todd started teaching English at a student center. 

Emergency

Several months into our stay, Becca became very ill. 

Early one morning, after she’d vomited all night and her fever continued to rise, we knew we needed to rush her to the hospital. 

Our friends who spoke Thai and had a car were out of town. So we walked several blocks to the main street and flagged down a taxi. By the time we arrived in the ER, her fever was 105 degrees. 

We watched helplessly as they worked to cool her down.

Comfort

It was a long day of multiple tests. And trying to comfort our distressed baby. The separation from her during the spinal tap was almost more than any of us could bear. 

Afterwards, Becca was screaming in pain. And I was holding her as still as possible on doctor’s orders. Before long I was crying with her. 

The door opened and an older couple who served in Bangkok, walked in. They had come to pray for Becca. For us. 

They quietly stood on either side of me, holding my arms. Praying. Speaking words of courage and comfort to us. 

And communicating in Thai with the medical personnel.

Dad and daughter after an exhausting day at the hospital.

Another lesson

Around midnight that first night, I was curled up in the hospital bed beside Becca. Watching her breathe. Feeling her heart beat.

She’d finally fallen asleep. Exhausted. 

And I was wide awake. Praying. 

Then I sensed that still, small voice of the Lord.  “There’s another lesson from the story of Abraham.”

Lesson of sacrifice

Why Abraham? 

For a year we’d been telling people we wanted to be obedient like Abraham and Sarah. Living in tents and going where God said go. 

This story flooded my mind. Then I heard the question.

“Is Rebecca Mine? Does she belong to Me?” 

The lesson of sacrifice. Isaac on the altar.

Makeshift altar

I got on my knees immediately in that hospital bed. It became a makeshift altar as I wept. And surrendered our daughter to His care. 

A holy ground moment. 

A spiritual marker. One I would return to again and again in the years to come. 

The next day we received a diagnosis. Viral pneumonia.  

And soon checked out of the hospital. 

Faithful God

Before many weeks had passed, our visa was granted for Pakistan. 

So we packed our tents. Again. And headed to the next place. 

There would be more altars to come.

Surrenders in the dark. 

Letting go.  

And always remembrance. Of that hospital bed. The makeshift altar in the middle of the night. 

And a faithful God who leads us all the way.

What about you?

Were there any last-minute fears to surrender as you moved overseas? Where have your makeshift altars been along the way?

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25 replies on “Makeshift altar”

Thank you Susan. You touch our hearts with memories of of our own spiritual markers of times we laid it all before the Lord in fear and surrender.

I’m so thankful for your faithfulness and the grace and wisdom you share through your writing. You are a blessing to so many and I’m blessed to call your sister and friend. Love you, Jennie Stillman

Recently, I told the story of my altar – but it was 35,000 feet above the ocean. Call me slow, but it was my first flight to Singapore so I should have already released everything in preparation. After the first flight, I had set my watch to the second destination and several hours later realized that I didn’t have any clue what time it was in Memphis or in Singapore and that everything I owned was in the cargo hold. Suddenly I felt no control or knowledge of anything and I remember praying and asking God to give me whatever I needed. HE DID!!!!!

I was once in a women’s Bible study session a number of years ago, populated mostly by mothers of relatively young children where we got to talking about how much harder it was for us to surrender our children and trust God with him than with any other aspect of our lives. But the reality is that we can’t know full trust in him until we can trust him with them.

Hope your readers did not miss the significance of the line that this was a marker you would return to again and again over the years–we may have to experience it the first time but it is there again and again!

On the floor in the hall, outside my teenage daughter’s bedroom door… where the loving Father assured me that He loves my child even more than I do…

Wow……thank you for posting its a very encouraging story especially in difficult trials. Its in them that our faith is really tested what we really believe is put on display and those who keep the faith make golden Christians out of it.

We just had the opportunity to meet you and your husband at the Orange County Southern Baptist Association annual meeting. It was a intersection in our lives I know we will never forget. God is orchestrating our steps and he placed us in the same path today.

This article is reminiscent of a moment in our lives as well and many moments where God continues to ask us to lay it all in the alter. Laying our children on the alter is probably the hardest lesson of all! Tears came to my eyes as you shared almost losing your precious baby girl and your prayer to give her totally to the Lord!

We had just moved to Oviedo, Spain. Living with the veteran missionaries, I had put all three of our boys, all under the age of three, down for a nap. Our oldest had a fever and I was unsure what to do. The veteran missionary wife told me to let him sleep so I took her advise and went down stairs. Something inside me told me to go back up. When I did, our three year old Isaiah was convulsing and turning purple.

I gave him mouth to mouth but it did not work! He was dying in my arms! I thought. I heaved him up and ran him down stairs crying “call 911! Needless to say that’s not Spain’s emergency number.

We called a Doctor and they said he was just having fever convulsions, but that didn’t settle me much. We were in a foreign country with no way to get to the hospital because the men were gone with the vehicle.

I had to pray and give my son into Gods hands. I would be tested of this sacrifice several more time through fever convulsions, to even our youngest having open heart surgery in Spain. I don’t think it is a one time alter but an ongoing one.

Thank you for sharing! I so look forward to reading all of your articles and adventures about this pilgrimage we are on.

Blessings,

Danielle Contreras ( Daniela)

Oh, sister, what a scary experience. Thanks for sharing your story. You are right—that altar of surrender is ongoing. But He is so faithful. It was great to meet you today.

Do you ever wonder where that next alter will be? There have been several in my past too! I just want to remain faithful to HIM wherever and whenever those tests come my way! HE has certainly been faithful to me!

Amen. Keeping our hands open in surrender is not a one-time event. The daily practice prepares us for those difficult places and makeshift altars. Grateful that He teaches us, prunes where we need it—that His Name may be glorified.

I would love to hear from you!

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