Susan LaffertyThe journals come in all sizes. Most have survived extremes. Dust and drought. Mold and humidity. It shows.
They hold my life records. The common, daily occurrences of a cross-cultural life. The ongoing spiritual battle.
And the struggles of our children in the midst of it all.
Constant illnesses. Anxieties. Hurt. Fears.
In dust and drought. Mold and humidity.
The temple is dark. Noisy with chants. Crowds press through. Men, women, children bowing before multiple idols.
Shiny cloth drapes several of these gods. Gods of stone and clay and metal.
I watch a father guide his young son from one graven image to the next. Showing him how to bow, what to say, where to place the offering.
A way of life. Inherited. Passed down from one generation to the next.
Standing there in the dark, I feel the weight of it.
Abiding in Christ. It’s how we live and grow as believers. How we stay rooted. And fruitful.
But what happens when the props are gone? No church down the street or across town. No familiar worship gathering in the heart language.
What happens when you don’t have a list of small group Bible studies to choose from. No Bible study workbooks for purchase.
And the internet is unreliable. Spotty. Occasional.
Perhaps you’ve been there. Or you are there.