a lost son

Oh, my God! Great sorrow and shock has yet again struck this nation.

Such a young man, possessed by failure, tormented, and overcome with evil principalities at the hand of satan.  There was not just one day when he snapped, but a day when a seed was planted.  A seed of rejection, and of being unloved and unwanted, as he soon was cast out into the world of darkness.  His life and family struggles almost asked for it. There was turmoil, and contemplation upon what was good and evil, as he was granted power to decide.  Every man desires power, but for what he does with this power is in his own hands.  The power to shake a nation came easily for him with a gun among the innocent.  He had his power, now God has rendered him powerless, and that he will remain.

How delicate life truly is!  It is here then gone too quickly.  How precious this baby boy was when he was born and took his first steps.  You were there Lord, and how the Lord wanted him to know the love of the Father.  He was a just a tool.  Just an instrument in the hands of satan to kill, steal, and destroy that which God has given.  Oh how the world threw hate and became his worst enemy, and now even more so.  But oh how the Father longed to have his lost son home, the reward for his suffering in His arms, just maybe even once.

Lives are shattered and destroyed, and to most, this will soon just become a distant memory.  But for a family who suffered loss, it will affect them for a lifetime.  Fear has come and there is no where safe to go, they now believe.  Decades have passed and the sounds of the gun shots are still heard in her little elementary school ears ears as her grandchildren sit upon her lap to read a book. How innocent they are she thinks, and how she wishes they would never have to go through such a tragic event and the years of heart ache and wrestling that would follow.  She has crossed many fences in her wilderness of healing. And for the teacher who gave her life as a martyr for the job she loved, to protect her children.  This was not in the contract, but it was unknowingly written in the Constitution of her heart.

The children's stockings are hung by the fireplace, yet they will remain untouched this year, but will always make their appearance every Christmas. The "why's" fill their hearts this season, and the house is quiet.  The traditions aren't the same anymore because there is a precious piece missing.  But there will be strength, strength to go on, one day at a time, and sometimes just one moment at a time.

There is Hope that where great sin abounds, so does His great grace.  There is great morning from the Father, as the plans He had for these children, the teachers, and yes, Adam and his mother, will not see their days fulfilled.  But our Lord promises great rest and peace in times of tragedy. To that promise, may many cling onto and receive their strength to go on.

Almost home.

Switzerland.  Although being here for over a month already, after the first week it began to feel like home.  As we left the States, the doors on many trials began to close, as some of course followed us.  But the knowing that the Lord has great peace for us through everything is something I still desire to receive, even though my soul loves to clutch onto fear instead of trust sometimes.  But right now, much is at rest.  With very few obligations, for the first time, I can begin to hear the quietness of myself, which is something I've longed.

Our little town.  The center of this village of Oron-La-Ville, Switzerland, is about a ten minute walk uphill from one side to the other. Somehow, four grocery stores are still running very well in this small village. The mom and pop shops, with your extremely over priced everything awaits your wallet.  Yes, the dollar stinks here, but it's a little better in France.  The smell of stinky cheese, fresh bread, sausages and the ever-so addicting delicious, yet very inexpensive wine, fills every house.  Every time Daniel opens the cheese I really think Victoria just pooped until I look up and see his knife dive into yet another chunk of greenish blue colored moldy cheese. I dont have the taste for this type of food fungus (or appreciation as Daniel calls it), but being a chocolate snob, I sure am thankful to get quality chocolate for about 75 cents a bar! Even though this feminine addiction is beginning to reign in my heart.

There's a Romanian man always asking for money and he takes his place at a different store each day. I gave him two Francs ($2.50) as he needed money to pay for his daughter's bill from breast cancer surgery.  With the doctor bill present and nude picture of his daughter clearly showing where she had surgery, I dont if giving money was a good thing or not. But despite that, in the best French I could muster up, I prayed for him and he was grateful. 

The church, a two minute drive away, is alive with people. The so familiar songs of Jesus Culture, Hillsongs and Paul Baloche bring a sense of home and comfort, even though in the French language.  The pastors, dress like someone out of a Polo ad and the woman are all done up wearing their skinny jeans, tights and high boots. Then there's second-hand store Emilie with frizzy hair, who still can't figure out if she shakes hands or give a kiss when greeting someone. It's still very different here and it would be hard to replace New Life City (NM). Here, no one attacks new visitors with casual questions and greetings, or even an invite to Fud's or Taco Cabana after service, or let alone receiving a prophetic word in front of the entire congregation :)  The people are genuine about their faith but it's wired in me to surpass the simple "Bonjour" and smile and get to know them.

The Suisse, proper, dignified, and well reserved in their emotions, makes me want to slip under that same culture. There's a part of me that just wants to run up front and dance when they play "Oh happy day, happy day, you washed my sins away!" Oh, how can you not?! But what if other's feel the same way and I just stay and melt into the mix of less expressive worshippers. I want freedom, but is it invited?  I do think so, but we'll see.  Yes, this is Switzerland, and something I was prepared for in even a Suisse charismatic and annointed church.

Snow came in November, and then it is greatly accumulating in December.  It is quite exciting.  I wake up every morning, curious with expectation to see how the Lord has once again graced this country with a fresh layer of snow.  There's a child-like wonder about snow that never leaves my heart.  I can still see my sister and I run up the steps from hours playing in the snow as mom stands over a pot of hot chocolate on the stove. For those who never saw or had the privilege to play in it, it seems as they have almost missed this blessing.  I wont miss the mush and dirty snow between snow falls, and then those lonely patches of crystal white snow remaining on the green grass after all else melted.  Three months with straight snow?  I could grow tired of it, but for now I'll take every thing in,  in all it's splendor.