Mondays are usually a slower day for me. I don’t have any regular meetings scheduled, and I spend part of my day planning out my week and thinking through conversations that took place on Sunday during our church service. The introvert in me takes some time to recharge on Mondays.

But this week was different. Kyle had the idea to do a Jericho prayer walk. Remember how the Israelites marched around Jericho one time a day for seven days, and on the seventh day they marched seven times? And as they finished the last lap, God miraculously brought the walls of the city down.

Ancona’s physical walls are long gone, but the spiritual walls here seem stronger than ever. The church here is making efforts at knocking them down, but sometimes it seems we have a long way to go.

We met at the monument at 7:00, walking along the Viale until we got to the port, and then we turned around and went back the way we came. It took about an hour every day.
We prayed for anything and everything: our church, the church members, our neighbors, spiritual growth, our leadership, maybe even world peace. We prayed for big things and small things.

That weekend, our church hosted another 24 hour prayer room, and this time the one-hour slots filled up very quickly. It seemed as though many went into the prayer room desperate for some time with their Creator.

Sunday morning, we finished the prayer walk with seven laps, though I couldn’t be there until the very end since Heidi was taking her turn in the prayer room. It was a week completely drenched in prayer.

It was also the hottest week we have had here in Ancona. Many of our activities take place at night when it is cooler, which made for a long day when the prayer walk starts at 7.

But I can’t think of a better reason to be tired. Despite my selfish bad thoughts when the alarm went off, a jump in the amount of time we spend talking to God can only be a good thing.

Because it really is up to Him, isn’t it? We make sure we’re the brightest possible light, and the saltiest Christians we can be.

So now we wait for the walls to come down.

But it’s more than just free babysitting. Italian kids seem to enjoy a closer relationship with their grandparents. And it’s made me realize how little contact my kids have with theirs. It really does make life harder. I know my kids miss out on that special bond with grandma and grandpa (and it’s our fault – we’re the ones who moved here). They miss getting to know adults who are less busy and have more time to focus on kid-stuff. Heidi and I miss having someone who can watch the kids for date nights (which hardly ever happen when the going rate for babysitters is $15/hour). I think even our church misses out on the wisdom that grandparents bring. The internet does allow a bit more of a connection than would normally be possible via letters and phone calls. But the distance is still there and still changes things.

And I have yet to find a way to fill that gap.

February. Valentine’s day. Love is in the air, right? I’ve been reading online different posts about Valentine’s parties, recipes, even sales that stores are having for Valentine’s day.  So, I’ve been trying to figure out if I miss it or not.

I must admit, I do miss the almost required date night that Brian and I used to get on this special day. Oh, and I look back with such nostalgia thinking about how I had to write oh so perfectly on those little white envelopes filled with Valentine’s greetings for my classmates. I remember the nervousness going to school hoping I didn’t forget someone (and honestly, that someone didn’t forget me).

Sometimes I wonder if our kids are missing out. There are no little white envelopes here. Many people don’t even remember that it’s Valentine’s day – the day of St. Valentine. No class parties with cute little treats, either. (What I wouldn’t do for a cupcake with that overkill sugary-sweet store-made white icing right about now.) But, essentially, what are they missing?

I wonder if it would be better to treat every day like Valentine’s day. I mean, Jesus said that the second greatest commandment is “to love your neighbor as yourself,” right? Now  sometimes that’s a hard one, isn’t it? Way worse than your parents making you give a valentine to everyone in the class, including the stinky boys or your arch enemy. You have to actually live this one out. You have to actually go about your day, day in and day out, loving people.

That, I think, is what I want our children to pick up on more than anything. We can draw cute hearts and make elaborate crafts to impress every mom on the block. We can make the best treats anyone has ever taken to a class party. But, if there is no love behind it, what good is it really?

I pray that as you go throughout the rest of this month you can take the love of Christ with you wherever you go. And this probably means the grown up equivalent of spending time with, and loving on, the kids who don’t quite have a full box of valentine’s this year. Who needs to be shown love more than those who rarely experience it? Let’s give out of our abundance!

On the horizon for us this month is a 24/7 Prayer Room. We will be praying from 6 PM, Saturday the 13th until 6 PM, Sunday the 14th. How wonderful it would be to all be praying simultaneously! Also, in March, I am going to host an event for the ladies in our community. We will have a “Spa Day.” This is completely unheard of, but the ladies are really intrigued at what we would do. If you have any ideas, feel free to send me an email. I’d love your help.

Until next month…

A lot has happened over the years. We spent over two years in the US raising support for our work in Ancona. What an experience that was – easily the most faith-stretching experience of our lives.

Then we moved to Perugia to study Italian. We enrolled in a small language school and tried to train our mouths to make all the weird sounds we heard all around us. We also adapted to the Italian rhythm of life, and enrolled our two oldest kids in school. What an experience that was – easily the most faith-stretching experience of our lives.

Next we moved to Ancona and started to dip our toes into life on a team. We learned all the reasons why working on a team is such a great thing, and we also learned why it can be a really challenging thing. The Italian culture started to feel a bit more familiar to us, but things were still new and scary sometimes. Moving to Ancona and working on a team was a great experience – easily the most faith-stretching experience of our lives.

After our first furlough, we came back to Ancona with a new confidence. The language wasn’t quite so difficult. Our kids were doing pretty well in school. We even had a baby in Ancona. Our team leader asked us to be the interim team leader for six months while he was in the US. What an experience that was – easily the most faith-stretching experience of our lives.

Just before our second furlough our landlord gave us six months to move out of her apartment, and we were faced with finding a new place and completely furnishing it with absolutely no way to pay for it. What an experience that was – easily the most faith-stretching experience of our lives.

Which brings us more or less to the present day. We still get our faith stretched on a regular basis. God still pulls us through despite our doubts, and shows us how faithful He is to us.

And through it all, He’s forming a church in Ancona. Sometimes He uses us, and sometimes He does an end-run and brings people to us that we never would have even met. He molds us and shapes us and chips away at our rough edges until we become more and more like Him.

And to think. It’s only taken seven years so far…

Thanks for sticking with us.

I have two beautiful stories to tell you. One of those Christmas, heartwarming stories that only happens to everyone else. Only this time it happened to us.

Right now we are leading a family through the Experiencing God Bible study. They are talking about how much their lives are changing, and how their family life is no longer the same. A couple of weeks ago, a friend of Mariana’s (the wife/mom in our study group) called her in tears. She could barely get the words out, but that morning she had a mammogram and her doctor told her it didn’t look good at all. One side had a few nodules. The other was completely full of them. The next week she needed a sonogram and biopsy.

That week, we were studying how God speaks through prayer. Man, we set to work praying for Laura. Mariana had promised to go with her to the hospital. So, later that morning I called Mariana to see how it went. She told me it was amazing. The side that had a few no longer had any nodules at all. Not one. And, the other side that was full of them has one very, very tiny one. So tiny in fact, that after the biopsy comes back if it is in fact cancer, he can take everything out. No problem! I told her that I hope Laura sees a connection between our prayers and her results. (Laura’s husband is Muslim, and she isn’t any too concerned about religion.) She said yes. She definitely sees how important prayer is! It was an emotional day, to be sure.

Then, yesterday I had quite an emotional day myself. Our car is in need of some serious repairs. We aren’t sure what the total cost will be, but probably at least in the ballpark of $2000. (Last week we had to get new tires and an inspection that cost $771, so we are strapped.)  Well, after much worry, and not much faith, a friend called from the States. He is a pastor and said that the day before a couple came into his office and wanted to give a gift to missions. So he told them of our need. They wrote a check for $2000. I’m actually getting teary just typing this. Oh, by the way, in our Bible study we are talking about times when you just need to take that step and know that God will provide. Just when we gave our worry to Him, He provided. Can you believe that?

Our God is so much bigger than I can imagine. And next week, when we are driving through the country on our way to a missionary conference and I see the “cattle on a thousand hills” I’ll smile. See, cause I know that God owns that cattle. And, once in a while, he sells a few just for me.

I have no idea what makes that room so special. But I feel like God really does come and meet us there. It’s moving to read through the journal on the table, or see the scribbled prayers on the wall, or to picture our church members on their knees before the big wooden cross in the room. Our team leader was telling me that he thought that the prayer rooms are the most important thing we do as a church.

It’s also one of the craziest things we do. Marcus prayed four hours straight and when I saw him the next day he said he felt like four hours wasn’t enough. My two hours flew by – I felt like I just got started. Our newly-baptized believer came out of the prayer room with wide eyes and said she’s going to sign up for more hours next time. My friend Simone was giddy at church when he told me he just did his first hour alone in the prayer room.

And so every other month or so (should it be more often?) we all take our turns in the prayer room. Some of us will write, some will pray out loud. Some will sing and some will listen to music. Some will shout and some will be still. But all of will come out somehow changed.

The growth of the church in Ancona has absolutely nothing to do with me. Or any of the other missionaries working with me. Or any of the members who currently attend.

This fact has really been driven home to me in the past month. Jason asked me if I would meet him at our church building after dinner. A woman who is friends with one of our church members wanted to get together and talk about some things she had been reading in the Bible.

Uhhh … OK. Who could turn down an invitation like that?

So we met and just started talking. Jason started things out by asking her to give us a little bit of background about herself - where she’s from, how she ended up coming to our church.

I was completely unprepared for what was about to happen. In the most clear and genuine way, she talked about how God had been working in her life even before she knew it to prepare her to become a Christian.

She talked about how she needed forgiveness, and how she believed that Jesus lived a perfect life and was a sacrifice for our sins. She knew that baptism was a part of becoming a Christian. She even quoted the passage in Acts where the Ethiopian says, “Look, here’s water … why shouldn’t I be baptized?”

We were honest with her. We talked about how baptism is very important in the life of a Christian, but one part of other things like repentance that are just as important. We told her that problems in life don’t magically go away when people give their lives to Christ. And we asked her a simple question: Are you ready?

And she was. Not even a week later we all met at the Casey’s house to baptize her in the bathtub. When she came out of the bathroom after getting dressed she said, “It’s wonderful to be a newborn!”

All of this reminds me that God is already at work here in Ancona. He is much more concerned than I am about a growing church in this city. He is infinitely better than we are at drawing people to Himself.

We basically just have to show up. We have to find places here where God is already working and join Him. “God made it grow” is such a true verse. We’re all busy seeking Him and doing what we feel He’s leading us to do, but God is the one working behind the scenes.

Welcome to the family, Cristina!

Last night she was talking about a website that said we are going to have an earthquake this weekend. Some of the parents were really listening to her, but most were rolling their eyes. But she said something that really make me think. She said if an earthquake happens, she’s running down to the bottom floor of her apartment so that she can “die with all of the rest of the sinners – at least you know who they are.”

I think she was implying that the buon crisitano (the good Christian) is just a big faker. It’s not possible for the real people, the work-hard-for-a-living people, the kind of people she can relate to, to have a faith: the two things are just incompatible.

I hope that can’t ever be said about me and my life. I seek to be the kind of person that people can relate to, who knows what real life is like. And at the same time I seek to grow in my faith – a faith that is authentic and genuine. If those two things don’t match up in our lives, then I think we will forever be branded as an irrelevant bunch of fakers.

We made it back to Italy safe and sound. Our apartment was cleaned and ready for us (thanks team!). Our car insurance was turned on – though somehow gremlins got in and ruined the transmission while we were gone. The church welcomed us back with the usual hugs and kisses alla Italiana. But somehow things seemed different.

It was a little like we were on the outside looking in on everything. Ministry and church life obviously goes on without us. It’s not like people are sitting around and waiting for us to get back. But it takes a while to get back into the rhythm of life. And the transition was in some ways a little uncomfortable.

But slowly, things are seeming more normal. The routine of school / sports / Bible studies / prayer times / classes / etc. is starting to take over. We’re renewing our friendships and our apartment seems like home again. It all reminds us that neither here, nor there, is our true home.

The government has promised to give the victims of third of their home’s value to rebuild. Many people have lost everything, and more and more reports are coming out that say the builders who originally constructed the buildings took shortcuts and didn’t obey government standards for earthquake proofing. So buildings that should have been able to withstand an earthquake crumbled.

Unfortunately, the city archive was also destroyed. So the chances of finding the builders (who are probably long gone anyway) are very slim. Even if the person remembered the company that built the building, more than likely those people aren’t around anymore.

So the woman in our church was lamenting the fact that the taxpayers have to foot the bill. She was upset that the mafia is probably involved and is skimming off the top. “Italians are good people – maybe too good,” she said as she described people who blindly give money to help with no real assurance that any of it ever gets to where it is intended. My friend said she would much rather invite someone into her home and, as she said, “share my bread with them” than send an text message that donates €1.00 to the Red Cross.

I think she has a point, but what can you do? Aren’t things like this the reason that people have governments? Earthquake insurance is nonexistent here. If the government doesn’t step in and help, who will?

The church?

Is it possible that Christians have relied on government to be the hands and feet of Jesus? Wouldn’t a group of people whose only motive is to relieve suffering and help as they are able be a far more effective “disaster relief team” than a big government bureaucracy?