Trouble with Tides

Posted on February 23, 2016 by Margaret

I’ve always thought the Great Lakes were akin to the ocean, just minus the salt, dangerous wildlife, and surfing waves. But now that I’ve been “playing Hawaiian” for a few weeks, I see I missed one other difference: tides.

The ocean ebbs and flows in a systematic way, first programmed by the Creator. Whether it’s the moon’s pull or the earth’s rotation, tides are predictable enough to be put on a calendar. Recently when Emerald and I packed up for a beach trip, I studied the tide times posted on Birgitta’s room wall – “out” when we got there and “in” when we left.

When we arrived, we set up camp a safe distance from the water where a tide pool surrounded by black lava rock was the perfect place for a three-year-old to play. Ankle-deep in some places, waist-deep in others, the water was sun-warmed and a perfect place to play. It was puzzling, then when I felt a surge of water rush around my ankles like the jets in a Jacuzzi. But being from the Midwest, I didn’t think of the tide.

Within a few minutes, though, I remembered. Each wave bounced with greater force across the rocks, insisting that the water level rise. We had to scramble to save our towels and snack bag from being swamped.

Again and again we returned to the water, only to have to run out and throw our items higher on the sand. The water rose quickly, accompanied by forceful surges beneath the surface, some strong enough to take us off our feet. Our water toys raced past us, heading for the open ocean, and we had to think fast to snag them.

Though neither of us was in real danger, we couldn’t seem to get ahead of the tide. We’re lake people and were completely unprepared – because we’d never had this kind of experience before. Though we’d checked the tide calendar, it hadn’t taught us what to do.

In our spiritual walks, God offers to give us experience we’ll need to navigate turbulent circumstances, but many of us prefer a quick glance at the Bible, preferring not to have the hard experiences that teach us best. We say, “Yes, I get that, Lord,” much like I thought I understood the tides from looking at the calendar. But teaching that will serve us best is enduring the hard things God allows, without complaint. We can know with confidence he’ll educate us properly if we let him do it his way.

That day at the tide pools, the water eventually stopped rising, and it was safe to go back in, though not where we’d been before. Shallow had turned to deep, and we moved to newly-flooded mini-pools instead. The next time we go, the tide calendar will mean much more – because now we’ve had experience.

Don’t just listen to God’s word. You must do what it says. (James 1:22)

The Little Red Church

Posted on January 30, 2016 by Margaret

Sunday worship in Kona offers many options, and for the past few Sundays we’ve traveled 20 miles up the mountain to attend a church whose building is an antique from the mid-1800’s but whose preacher is very up-to-date. Its official name is Pu’uanahulu Baptist Church, but most people simply call it The Little Red Church.

Pastor Derek has been one of Nelson’s close friends for more than a decade, and the two of them, often a world apart, have connected whenever possible. He’s ministered in scores of countries and has mastered several languages, Hebrew and Greek among them. Birgitta benefited from his teaching recently during her first week of classes here at the University of the Nations.

Ten years ago, Derek became the pastor of this historic church and now shares the task with his gracious wife Heeran and their three children, Andrew, Chiara, and Acacia. Though the church might be tiny, it has a big story behind it.

Here on the island of Hawaii, active volcanoes have always been part of its history. One hundred and fifty years ago, the wooden church stood close to the waterfront on the island’s west side when a volcano’s advancing lava threatened to destroy it.

Parishioners gathered and prayed passionately that God would spare the building, and then they evacuated the area. When they returned after the lava had cooled, they found whole villages burned beneath the red-hot flow (2000 degree F). But they were astonished to find their church completely intact. The lava had divided, moved around it, and come together again afterwards. God had protected their church.

Years later a similar volcanic eruption occurred, and once again the lava split to go around the church. That’s when worshipers decided to move the building to higher ground. In 1871, they painstakingly dismantled every board, loaded it all onto donkeys, and marched the pieces up the mountain to a grassy field, where they reassembled it. It still stands there today.

Since Hawaiian weather is often perfect, the packed-out church uses the meadow for its children’s ministries – a nursery under one tree, Sunday school under another.

This little church proves that God pours power into small churches as well as big ones. A potent reminder of this is a sandy spot surrounded by black lava rock near the Kona coastline – in the shape of The Little Red Church.

Mega-churches have their perks, but God is just as present in a no-frills tiny place of worship as he is in an ornate cathedral that seats thousands. After all, his preferred dwelling is the sanctuary of a humble heart…. which is small indeed.

“Let us go right into the presence of God with sincere hearts fully trusting him.” (Hebrews 10:22)

Open your eyes.

Posted on January 24, 2016 by Margaret

One of the joys of being here in Hawaii at the Youth With A Mission base is that Nelson is here, too – on staff. He was highly instrumental in making our arrival as smooth as possible.

Once we were here, he did favor-after-favor to make us comfortable, even securing a car for me to use, since my room is a mile from Birgitta and Emerald’s. We’ve used this little car for everything from grocery runs to beach trips but mostly just for getting back and forth between our two rooms. Though YWAM provides occasional shuttle vans, we haven’t had to worry about their schedules and hauling Emerald’s car seat around.

That is, until yesterday.

Saturdays are usually free, so Birgitta, Emerald, and I decided to spend a couple of hours at the local pool – a large aquatic center free to the public and virtually empty.

Our car took us there without a problem, but when it was time to leave, it wouldn’t start. Turning the key activated all the dashboard lights, the AC, the headlights, but made absolutely no noise. No grinding, no hint of a lazy battery. Just silence.

Nelson, located over an hour away and without a car, called a friend on the base, who came and rescued Birgitta and Emerald, since it was well past lunch and approaching nap time. I stayed with the car, waiting to hear back from its owner about what to do.

Plunking myself down on a curb and preparing myself to be frustrated, I looked up at the fluffy white clouds in an azure Hawaiian sky and thought, “It’s January…. and I’m sitting here in a swimming suit on an 82 degree day. What’s not to like about this breakdown?”

As I waited, thoroughly enjoying myself, God brought to mind all sorts of other breakdown-blessings. For example, the car could have malfunctioned when we were pressed to get to a meeting or other important commitment. As it was, we had no specific obligations.

It might have quit running the other day when I was driving an unfamiliar route in the mountains at night with sharp lava rock on both sides of a shoulder-less road and no place to pull over, cars coming both ways.

Or it could have broken down on a busy street, causing an accident.

As the blessings mounted, I could almost hear God say, “No matter the problem, look for the good things. I always put them there, so when you see them, thank me.”

Eventually a tow truck arrived, after which Nelson sent someone to rescue me, too. We don’t know when or if the car will return to us, but if it does, it’ll be God’s good gift. If it doesn’t, it might be more difficult to find the positives, but after today, I’ll be sure to open my eyes and look — because I know they’ll be there.