Fighting for words:

I have been wrestling with what I might say for all my faithful followers, and financial supporters as evidence of my work on the mission field in the Dominican Republic. I could offer a few lines of Spanish but that would just be showing off and pointless. When I thought about everything I could say it all sounded the same as before; “Well... I don’t feel like much, but I know God has made me much” or “Well.... I haven’t done much, but I know God will continue to work in and through me.” and “So.... I am struggling but I know God is my strength.” It doesn’t make any of what I have said less true or less important. Perhaps it makes it a tired message, rerun, and over used, but then again maybe not. I have been wrestling for a few weeks now on what to say and just when I thought I had something I would think, “Nope! I’ve said that before” or “Now this is just getting to be too forced and has no meaningful substance” Then it hit me; maybe that is the point. A forced message and a repeated message given in truth makes it no less true or less needed. I am reminded of a great quote by G.K.Chesterton in his book “Orthodoxy” when he states;

“Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, "Do it again"; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, "Do it again" to the sun; and every evening, "Do it again" to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”

While I may be tired and doubting those words of truth that God offers me in his word, He keeps telling me, “read it again, say it again, repeat it even when you don’t ‘feel’ it because soon you will know, and soon my promises will be so engrained in your being that they will speak louder than your doubting and fatigue.” So, He sings over me when I am too tired to sing, His promises are new every morning and His mercy never fails. I am like a tree planted by streams of water which yields its fruit in due season and whose leaf does not wither. Say it again, do it again, read it again and again... 

Habakkuk 3:17-19

Though the fig tree may not blossom,

Nor fruit be on the vines;

Though the labor of the olive may fail,

And the fields yield no food;

Though the flock may be cut off from the fold,

And there be no herd in the stalls—

Yet I will rejoice in the Lord,

I will joy in the God of my salvation.

The Lord God[c] is my strength;

He will make my feet like deer’s feet,

And He will make me walk on my high hills.

I run...but I fall down again....

April was a great month for me! I had a wonderful month of success. I started to help teach classes for deacons and deaconesses. I got to have a special Bible class with a few struggling students in the school. I got to help a little at the construction site for the new group home. I ran a 10K, and joined a gym. April was a month for me where I started to feel like I had some footing beneath me. The ironic thing is whenever I begin to feel sure of myself and think “Now I’m running on the track” I am humbled and reminded that no matter how perfect I make my life, it is nothing compared to what He makes it. 

One year ago today I began the hopeful journey of being a missionary in the D.R.. Today, I sit on the other side of that process envying my fellow brothers and sisters that are beginning their own joyfully exciting journeys of serving our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ beginning with a call process that renders them subject to the process itself. There was a joy I carried with me when I thought I was conducting my own orchestra only to be shattered when my own strength faltered. When I stepped back, or was nocked down, I realized that the only One to take up the stand and conduct is the very One who divinely orchestrated all of creation and called the earth into being. The only One who can sustain my decrescendos, and drawn out lulls in life is the conductor with bigger arms than my own. He has given me all that I need to support this body and life and still takes care of me. 

Why is it that I always fall into the trap of thinking it is I who needs to serve Him, when He is the one granting the strength and sustenance to carry on? All too often my joy for the service constitutes my own strength and ability to carry out my day to day living. Yet it is God who makes me fit to serve Him. What is more is that it is God who strengthens me when I do not feel fit to serve. Christ on the cross is the only work I need for the day. Christ covering me in baptismal robes of regalia is my strength for days when I don’t think I measure up, because alone I don’t. With Christ before me, he holds my arms up for battle and places his own upon a cross to win the greatest battle of all. My greatest crescendo is Christ when I run, and Christ when I fall down again. He is the reason for my success and my aid for when I fall. My joy then is found in a Savior who makes me fit not only for His kingdom, but fit for the service of the kingdom. Finally, joy comes in knowing when I am weak, and all too human, God invests in making me whole and better for knowing and serving Him.   

Exodus 15:2 

The Lord is my strength and song,
And He has become my salvation;
He is my God, and I will praise Him;
My father’s God, and I will exalt Him.

Birthday Cake?

Philippians 1:3-4

I thank my God upon every remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine making request for you all with joy,

To all whom offered there greetings of birth: 

Okay I know that is a weird way of saying that, but this is for you: To all of you because there are too many of you! (which is a huge blessing!!!!) It is so amazing to know I am not forgotten, and I am loved. Even if you just saw the little notice up in the right hand corner that “Kate Ziegler has a birthday today!” on facebook and you took the time to simply put, “Happy Birthday!!!!” THANK YOU!!!! You are a friend for a reason and it may seem simple to you to type those simple words, but as I scan my profile and look at all of you who posted, not one of you went unnoticed. You remembered me (even if it was prompted by facebook) and you took the time (that is something I am not always good at). As I looked at your simple words I thought about you, which changed the words and made them more complex. I thought of what impact you have had on my life, and how you became to be my friend on facebook. Whether it was meeting you in grade school, culinary arts school, CUNE, Seminary, Through Church, in China or in Europe last year, you hold a place in my memory and the shaping of who I am this year and for years to come. I thank God that he not only calls us to Him in baptism but to community too! 

After the whole Birthday chaos had settled down, I had some time to call my mother and father and talk with them a bit. I was sad because I missed them. I realized that sometimes birthdays are just difficult because you are made aware of the reality of another year. The woman who carried me for nine months, changed my diaper for probably three years and made my birthday cake for about 25 years was only connected to me by a phone call (which I know is more than what some others have). It seems difficult to separate my special day of birth from the woman who labored to bring me into this world, and the two who labored to send me out into the world (a.k.a. The Parents). I thought about how from the moment I was born I have experienced a series of separations. First they cut my cord; separating me from my direct line to my mother, then I began to grow up and realized that friends were way cooler than my parents. Then, I moved away and realized that I needed my parents but what I had were friends. When I started loosing my friends I began to realize how friends too can be taken for granted and how life is short. One day I know I will loose both my parents and I know I will have dear friends to lean on. I will have close friends that God has given to me to run to, and what is more important is that I have Christ who underwent the ultimate separation for us.

I’m so thankful for the friends I have, the friends I have lost, and the friends I have yet to make. I pray that God would keep me ever mindful of the reason they cut that cord when I was a baby, and the reason I had to leave the house of my mother and father. I am connected to my parents in a much deeper sense than just a call on the phone, and with many of you I hold that same connection. This birthday I remember the gift of friends with their own unique stories and walks of life who come from all different parts of the world. Friends I would not have made had my parents not allowed me to venture beyond what they knew to be safe and what they understood. Friends who taught me words like "totes" "could do" and "dunzo."  Friends who make me feel loved, friends who impress upon me the importance of faith, and friends who impact my life in such a way that allows me to carry them with me, even when they are gone.   

I thank God for you all and your words. I thank God that he has made you to be who you are, and that he is making me who I am to be, influenced by the graces of His good people. Seriously!!!!! You have no idea how precious your words were to me (because they came from YOU!!!!!) Thank you!

Love Katie 

Ecclesiastes 4:9-11

The Value of a Friend

Two are better than one,

Because they have a good reward for their labor. For if they fall, one will lift up his companion.

But woe to him who is alone when he falls,

For he has no one to help him up.

The Road is Long...

Luke 24:30-35

Now it came to pass, as He sat at the table with them, that He took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they knew Him; and He vanished from their sight.

And they said to one another, “Did not our heart burn within us while He talked with us on the road, and while He opened the Scriptures to us?” So they rose up that very hour and returned to Jerusalem, and found the eleven and those who were with them gathered together, saying, “The Lord is risen indeed, and has appeared to Simon!” And they told about the things that had happened on the road, and how He was known to them in the breaking of bread.

I was walking down the beach the other day with a friend lamenting the fact that eating and drinking is such a huge part of communal activity here that it makes it difficult to maintain any kind of diet apart from rice, beans, and juice. Most people commune over food and find the feasting to be an intimate activity of sharing in nourishment of the body. I learned in my culinary education that dining is an activity that brings people together and is better enjoyed in the company of others. This reflection on dining made me think of other communal activities that we practice and I recalled one even more intimate, that being walking. I had been processing this thought for a bit and it was solidified as I recently watched a movie called “The Way.” It is a movie about a man who takes a pilgrimage on "El Camino de Santiago." It reminded me of the walks I have been on and walks I hope to go on. I recalled walks with my mother all through high school, I recall many “Concordia walks” in Seward, and walks around the Fort Wayne Seminary campus with friends. I remember distinctly a ten mile journey from Deal to Dover, and walking around the train station in Germany passing the night away to catch the bus in the morning. There were too many walks in Cambridge to count, and many walks about in other parts of Europe. Those are precious journeys I treasure and wish I could easily return to. The point is, I’m afraid that in the past I have not recognized the journey to be of equal importance to feasting. The journey often ends with a feast to recall and rejoice in the journey. After long walks and good conversation, the meal became more than just an intimate sharing of food. It was a working together to create and bring forth food that represented the efforts of our journey and now would be used to the nourishment of our bodies. 

The Road to Emmaus was a lot like this. It was a journey of tears, wonder, confusion, discussion and maybe even fear. The disciples walked seven miles trying to make sense of everything that had happened and would happen with the present knowledge or wonder of Christ’s resurrection. They even took on one who they thought was a fellow pilgrim to walk with them to the nearest lodging for the night. They took a walk in the early part of the evening as the sun began to go down. What they had at the end was not a feast but perhaps more so a vision of the feast to come. They had meager offerings of just bread, or perhaps that was the only thing that needed to be mentioned in the text. What happened was the bread sustained them for a seven mile run. The bread opened their eyes, their hearts burnt within them and they knew more than they knew before. Their walking turned to running, their fear setting like the sun turned to a light that fearlessly carried them on a nightly journey. The journey became necessary driven by purpose and the road became shorter. They knew the joy of their Savior alive, whole and well through the breaking of the bread. It doesn’t take much bread and wine to have table fellowship, but it does take a bit more to understand what makes that fellowship so important. It takes walking with our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ and sharing in their sorrows and woes to the point of becoming one through an intimate sharing of a meal. The meager offerings of bread and wine are so much more when we know what is being offered. The meal becomes a feast and we run to the table together with the understanding of where we are all coming from and that we all become one in the journey through the eating and drinking of Christ’s body and blood. Even today, God meets us and walks with us on the way, providing all we need along the way. 

Happy Easter everybody, and I pray that you know God's presence and the presence of those he has placed in your life along the way. I remember you all as I go to the table of our Lord and feast on his body and blood.    

Alleluia's in Lent

Today I attended my first funeral in the D.R. It was emotionally more exhausting than visiting the children in some of the orphanages here. At the grave yard the workers rushed about to break open old vaults, prepare them, and seal them. There is a certain sense of finality in the D.R. funeral as opposed to the American funeral. The funeral home is kept very cold to preserve the body which has not been embalmed, and there is no patch of grass over the grave to remind people of renewed life in death. Rather, there is the stark reminder that this body is going to rot within a hot box of cement outside with several other bodies in rented cement vaults closely inlaid with a wall. They are buried much like they live; very close together. After the body is placed in the wall everyone stands around and watches as the worker, who is hot sweaty and wearing a t-shirt and jeans. He seals the vault with two cement blocks and wet cement for the sealant. 

Without the Easter message, this whole ritual communicates that this body is confined to this cell. This body is one quick job for a man that will do the same for twenty other cells today. This body, once the vessel for a life now is no different from any other earthly thing that will rot, decay, and pass away. With the Easter message however we know a different reality. This is the body of a dearly loved child of God. This child has been freed from the bonds of sin on this earth. This child is no longer confined to their flesh and while the seal is being placed upon the vault that holds their body, Christ had burst forth by placing his own seal upon this child though baptism.

What faced us today was a cell sealed with cement, but what we know is this; the very God who formed us has claimed us and already broken the cement. He is stronger than any substance man uses to block out the stench of sin and rotting flesh. This substance cannot hold back the promise and power of Christ’s presence at the grave and the uniting at the font and table. I love that the funeral is one of the exceptions to say "Alleluia" during Lent. I praise God as the words to this beautiful hymn ring in my ear even in the midst of this Lenten season: 

Now let the vault of Heavn resound
In praise of love that doth abound,
“Christ hath triumphed, alleluia!”
Sing, choirs of angels, loud and clear,
Repeat their song of glory here,
“Christ hath triumphed, Christ hath triumphed!”
Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia. (LSB 465)

2 Cor. 15:55-57  O death, where is thy victory? O death, where is thy sting? The sting of death is sin; and the power of sin is the law: but thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Lessons from Tias...

It amazes me how much children teach us. This morning I was asked to watch the kids (I now live with the same family who cared for me while I had dengue). It was only for a few minutes before I was relieved by a woman from the church that comes to help out in the house two times a week. I snuggled with the two children on the couch while we watched some cartoon. The girl is four and the boy is two. They are close to the ages of my nephews back home but very different in personality. The little boy is quite the snuggler, which I soak up as my youngest nephew arches his back and runs away screaming for his “Nana” any time I try to hold him. Snuggling was cut short as my relief came shortly after we had settled on the couch. My mind quickly went to how I could best be productive in the office today beginning with getting dressed in a fresh pair of comfy clothes. 

When I emerged to the sitting room where the kids were the youngest little boy was crying because he had hit his head. I was just getting ready to walk out the door with all confidence that this was nothing the helper hadn’t seen or dealt with before, but what happened next pulled me out of my focus for the day. The little boy came to me, hugged me, and said, “hold me?” He weakened my already weak heart and I picked him up and just sat for a bit longer thinking, “Work can wait, this is just too precious.”

I sat a bit longer with the kids, until the cartoon was done. They got a few books and we started to look at them. The older sister took one of the books the younger brother was looking at and he then became distraught. I could tell he wasn’t going to give it up so I asked (for my own sanity) if the older sister could give the book back. Trying to console a two year old and battle an all knowing four year old, I looked down and noticed that in his distress, the youngest was throwing up his breakfast over himself, myself and finally down onto the couch. Covered in throw-up, I tried to rush him to the bathroom, attempting to be extra careful not to get extra throw up on me. 

When the adrenaline and concern for my fresh new pair of comfy clothes wore off, I noticed that the little boy was crying and saying “a bath? a bath? clean? a bath?” I picked him up and held him, and he held even tighter onto me. I wanted to cry with him and I asked him; “Is that what you want? You want a bath?” How quick I was to get this filthy child away from me while he was covered in sick, yet all he wanted was someone to hold him. Before that I was quick to forget my work before me to snuggle with a sweet little two year old. Before that I was quick to walk away from the same child to set my mind on “higher things.” It made me realize how much all of God’s children are like this little boy. At what point do we lay aside what is ultimately unimportant to tend to the needs of God’s people. 

It is easy to care for others when it is convenient, but what do we do when sickness looks like it could rub off, or get on us too? Christ unabashedly entered into our infirmities, and swam in a world full of sickness so that we could bathe in his righteousness and put on a clean white robe in holy baptism. Christ was not afraid of getting sick on himself for us. He took all our infirmities upon himself. Tias showed me a glimpse of what the Savior’s love looks like out poured on his people. It looks a lot like what Christ did for us; working on the sabbath, becoming unclean, uncomfortable, and unconcerned for those things that pale in comparison to the wellbeing and love of a child. A communication I am sure a mother displays better than I did this morning. I wish I had been less concerned for my clothes and the sweet smell of perfume in my nose. It was however when that sweet little child flung his arms around me and rested his head upon my shoulder with tears in his eyes that I wore his sick on my clothes like a badge of honor, as if to say “Look what sick I was able to catch” I wanted to show off the sick like it meant something, but wearing it doesn’t make it go away. I needed to wash it. Ironically that is something his mother is now doing for me. In the end, we can’t be the ones to take the sickness, but we can be unafraid of it knowing where to go to become clean. We may not be able to heal, but we can always point to the healer; Christ.

Isaiah 53:3-5

New King James Version (NKJV)

3 

He is despised and rejected by men,
A Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.
And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him;
He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.

4 

Surely He has borne our griefs
And carried our sorrows;
Yet we esteemed Him stricken,
Smitten by God, and afflicted.

5 

But He was wounded for our transgressions,
He was bruised for our iniquities;
The chastisement for our peace was upon Him,
And by His stripes we are healed.

Christ for Christmas

Last week this time, I rode around Licey with the Vicar to invite people to “Amigos de Jesus” for a Christmas party. I have been in many different types of homes in my time here. For me, the home is more than a place, it is a feeling. In Germany it is “gemütlich”, in England it is “cosy”, in the States it is “cozy”, here it is “cómodo.” While I put words to it and four walls to it, it still is so much more for me than all this. 

In my time here I realize that I am not home, but yet this is my home for now. I am okay with this for now. I realized as I stood in one home with a dirt floor that sits on the top of a mountain; I know something very different. I could try to sugar coat this and talk about how beautiful that house was because it held a family and the love of Christ within it that was far more beautiful than anything. While all that is true, it isn’t that sweet. We are sinners who live in a filthy dirty world. I am a sinner, and all I could think was; “How do people live like this?” 

The reality is that I have been spoiled rotten! I know the feeling of controlled temperatures, drinkable running water, electricity 24 hours a day. I know the luxury of clean sheets to crawl under at night and wake refreshed in the morning. I know the luxury of having whatever I want whenever I want (notice I said "want" not "need"). I’m beginning to realize how many luxuries I had in the States and even still have here in the D.R. 

What this all makes me aware of is the fact that my small transition from sanitation to tropical sweat is only a glimpse of what Christ sacrificed for us. I wonder if his skin crawled the way mine does when I realize just how filthy I am. I wonder if he lay awake at night unable to quite his mind. I wonder if he felt helpless to help even knowing His ultimate plan of salvation. I have no idea how the God of heaven came down and exchanged his home in heaven for a home on this earth. Even in the cleanest places of this earth there is a stench of sin, corruption, and filth that we cannot escape. Yet, it is Christ who took on flesh and blood for us. 

It amazes me to think he gave it all up to share it all. How does that even work!? He wants to share with us, but to do that He had to live in and among us first. He wants to be with us, even if it means crawling skin, a restless mind, bags under his eyes, dirt under his nails, humiliation, discomfort, and death. I’m not so humble, I still live in a mansion in comparison to most people here. On account of Christ however, one day, home will be with Christ. In his exchange we receive this hope and promise. His suffering for our life. I thank God this Christmas that He came, lived, and died so that one day all people in Christ will know what home really is; with Christ, in Him. 

Merry Christmas and God Bless!

2 Corinthians 8:9

 For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, that you through His poverty might become rich.