More Marooned Island Books

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Cheryce Berg, member of the Board of Missions, would be sure to have these books with her on that island.

The Bible, because "His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence, by which he has granted to us his precious and very great and very great promises. . ."
(2 Peter 1:3-4a)

Hudson Taylor by J. Hudson Taylor, because "The cold, and even the hunger, the watchings and sleeplessness of nights of danger, and the feeling at times of utter isolation and helplessness, were well and wisely chosen, and tenderly and lovingly meted out. What circumstances could have rendered the Word of God sweeter, and the presence of God so real, the help of God so precious? They were times, indeed, of emptying and humbling, but were experiences that made not ashamed, and that strengthened purpose to go forward as God might direct, with His proved promise, 'I will not fail thee, nor forsake thee."'

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, because "I know what it is to live entirely for and with what I love best on earth. I hold myself supremely blest—blest beyond what language can express; because I am my husband's life as fully as he is mine."

The Weight of Glory, by C.S. Lewis, because it reminds me that "There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal...[lt] is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit— immortal horrors or everlasting splendors."

The Gardener by Sarah Stewart, because I find hope in tiny Lydia Grace's words: "I've tried to remember everything you ever taught me about beauty," as she transforms a dreary rooftop into a garden during the Depression.

Morning and Evening by Charles H. Spurgeon (revised by Alistair Begg), because each day it feeds me with words such as "The more burdens we put on His shoulders, the more precious He will be to us."

At Home in Mitford by Jan Karon because Father Tim keeps me smiling and models the prayer that never fails: "Thy will be done."

The Horse and His Boy by C.S. Lewis, because it reminds me of Christ when Aslan tells Shasta, "There was only one lion.. .I was the lion.. .who forced you to join Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you."

Finally, Winnie-the-Pooh by A. A. Milne, because Pooh makes me laugh and cry at the same time with words like, "How lucky I am to have something that makes saying good-bye so hard."

My Marooned Island Books

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Inspired by a New York Times column that asks people what ten books they would take with them if they were marooned on an island, (here’s what Bill Gates said), OneWord Journal asked some of its contributors along with some of the ministry staff, elected leaders, missionaries and others at College Church the same question. We’ll be posting their “island” answers throughout the month.

From writer and deaconess Virginia Hughes

If I could take 10 books . . .

Six volumes of classic Encyclopedia Britannica, because these books have elegance, heft and an air of importance carried in their old gold-embossed leather covers. I would want them for research purposes, and simply to have beautiful books around.

The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. For the dramatic, desperate, iconic characters and masterful turn of phrase.

The NIV Study Bible for Kids—of course, a Bible must come along, God’s own living words, and best book ever written. This version is easy to read and understand, has great definitions and illustrations throughout. I began using it for teaching and also for raising my kids.

The SparkNotes Anthology of 150 Plays and Literary Word—so many quotes and discussion of plots, characters, definitions and author information, featuring great stories from the oldest known to the present day.

The biggest poetry anthology I could find. Poetry is music that penetrates, feeds and inspires.

Surprised by Boy

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by Janet Click
This wasn’t the only surprise Janet had as a new mother, but she soon discovered that God was sowing seeds for a new ministry that flourishes today. Janet first wrote her story for Connections, the weekly newsletter of College Church.

I grew up in a Christian home in the Bible belt, prayed the sinner’s prayer at age four to ask Jesus into my heart, was active in my church and attended Wheaton College. I had a lot of head knowledge, but never truly understood my own need for Jesus and his grace. That’s why my human efforts to reach out to others were ineffective.

In 2010, I was expecting our first child—a little girl we planned to name Lucy Abigail. We painted her room Fairest-of-Them-All Pink, created 100 handmade baby girl announcements and had everything ready. 

Upon delivery at the hospital, we were surprised to find out we had a baby boy!

This wasn’t the only surprise motherhood brought into my life. I had expected motherhood to make me feel wonderful and fulfilled, instead I was plagued with numerous infections in those early months and was left feeling sad, lonely, depressed and discouraged. Through this very dark period, God, in his mercy, brought me on a journey that exposed four idols that were keeping me from serving him: performance, people pleasing, self-sufficiency and pride.

I had been self-righteous, focused on my ability to perform well, fueled by the praise and flattery I received from people, puffed with pride at my own self-sufficiency. God used my early failures as a mom to reorient me from myself to God, to illuminate my insufficiency and show me my need for Jesus, to strip me of pride and free me to serve the Lord.

At the same time God was working in my life, he began to bring moms into my path at the park and library, and I realized I was not alone. One mom I met was Jessica. She had gotten pregnant in high school and was a single mom. When she came over to my house for the first time, she told me she’d never been in someone’s home for a play date. She didn’t have any mom friends.

From a nominally religious home, Jessica became more interested in going to church now that she was a mom. She felt she didn’t know how to parent or how to discipline. Jessica needed community, a mentor and a relationship with Jesus. God continued to bring more moms into my life like Jessica, and I began to feel a burden for moms of young children who needed community, encouragement and support.

God was beginning to plant the seeds of a mom’s ministry in my heart.

Through too many miracles to name, in a matter of months, Mom2Mom was born at College Church, a ministry whose mission is to reach young moms for Christ and equip them in their God-given roles for ministry. It has been exciting to see God at work in the moms he brings to Mom2Mom. Some are from different churches or may not have a church at all. Some are followers of Jesus now, but they weren’t raised in Christian homes and are hungry for help to raise their children up in the Lord. Some moms are new to the area and looking to meet some mom friends, while others come specifically searching for a mentor.

Mom2Mom has a few components, including open gym times and mom’s night outs, but the main component is the gathering. This once-a-month, informal, casual, no-registration-required, come-as-you-are, when-you-can, for-what-portion-you-are-able-to-attend get together is meant to offer moms a forum to connect with other moms and mentors.

We have coffee and chat while the kids play and make a craft. Moms enjoy a 15-minute break mid-morning when the kids who are comfortable go with the mentor mom leaders to have a snack and watch a short video and sing songs. During this time moms hear from a mentor about how God has worked in her life since she has become a mom. After this break-out time, we come back together for a time of songs with the kids. Moms have shared how they love learning the songs their children are being taught, so they can continue to sing them at home.

My children love going to Mom2Mom, and it has been wonderful to have the spiritual encouragement as well as the practical tools to help me be a minister of reconciliation right in my own home. God has also used Mom2Mom as a tool for outreach. As I pray for opportunities for the Lord to use me as an ambassador for Christ, I’ve been able to invite the moms he brings into my path—at the store or library—to Mom2Mom.

Pray for Mom2Mom. Pray that God would guide the mentor moms as they seek to disciple the moms who come, that God would be working in the lives of the moms who attend to draw them nearer to Jesus, and that they would be filled up so that they could pour out into their families and communities. 

Young, Male and Syrian

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Eric Hamsho writes about how God planted the seeds of the gospel in his father's heart through a dream in Syria; then through believers who lived out the gospel in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan

Single, eighteen-year-old Muslim male from Syria. Claims he wants to study in the U.S. Has no relatives or connections here.

How many red flags just went off in your mind?

That Muslim young man did enter the U.S., and College Church attender Eric Hamsho knows the story well. It is the story of God’s grace in his family, beginning when his father left Syria.

Here, in Eric's own words, is the story.

At the age of 18, my father traveled from Syria to the United States with dreams of a college education. Dad’s family couldn’t help in a tangible way as they raised eight children on a single income. So, with no relatives or connections in the United States, he picked a school in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, bought a plane ticket, and came with what little cash he had saved from teaching English lessons.

One night prior to leaving Syria, Dad had a vivid, yet strange dream, given his Muslim upbringing. He found himself in an unfamiliar, primitive room where a man was sleeping—a man that someone identified to him as Jesus. The dream was tucked away and forgotten for decades, but it set the stage for several meaningful relationships Dad encountered early on in the U.S. A college professor and his family invited him into their home for meals and holiday celebrations. They also took time to talk about their faith in God. Two other families welcomed him into their homes when he needed housing for his engineering co-ops. They loved him like one of their own children and showed him a picture of what it meant to live a life of faith and devotion to Jesus Christ.

Dad accepted his first job in western Ohio and met my mother. As they began their family, they decided that church should be a part of their weekly routine. They attended a church in our little farm town of Buckland, Ohio, because Mom’s parents and grandparents and great-grandparents had attended there. Church became an important part of the life of our family, and we learned a lot about Jesus over the years, but we felt a discontent and lack of fulfillment that we could not identify.

We moved from western Ohio early in my teenage years and finally heard the gospel for the first time at a church in our new community. We were overwhelmed by the truth that we could have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. We knew a lot about Jesus, but we didn’t actually know him. One by one, my family professed faith in Jesus Christ and each of us were baptized—except for Dad.

He had a lot to work through as he wrestled with the teachings of the Koran and the Bible. The teachings and historical events seemed similar in the two books, and he struggled with why he needed a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. I remember many discussions with my dad as we explored these things together. I remember his objections and his questions and his challenges. I remember the compassion I had for him during those times because, more than anything, I wanted him to come to faith.

In God’s perfect timing and through the work of the Holy Spirit, Dad came to faith. There was nothing more I could share or defend or argue to convince him of his need. God had a plan for his life all along and used that dream, friendships, the Scriptures and the church to help him realize that he could never do enough to please Allah. But God, through his Son, Jesus Christ, accomplished all that needed to be done for salvation on my father’s behalf.

God, in his kindness, has used the patience and compassion from that season of my life to give me dozens of opportunities to share my faith—and my dad’s story—with Muslims. Almost every month, I climb into a car headed for the airport with a driver who is from the Middle East and ask him what country he is from. After he shares, I tell him that my father is an immigrant from Syria. Nine times out of ten the driver will ask me if my father is a Muslim. And by the grace of God, I tell him that Dad has a relationship with Jesus Christ.

In the spring of 2011, I had the privilege of baptizing my dad (and each of my children)—a moment that would not have happened if not for the many believers who faithfully lived out the gospel in front of a young Syrian teenager. 

A Photo Finish

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Oh, my, what joy!

Oh, my, what joy!

Yaphet's nonna with her arm around Elianna, Gabriel is on Mark's lap and Ruthi is in the middle of it all.

Yaphet's nonna with her arm around Elianna, Gabriel is on Mark's lap and Ruthi is in the middle of it all.

"So Yaphet became our son. Forever. For all practical purposes, when we returned to the orphanage that day, absolutely nothing had changed. But everything had changed. We were not going to visit 23 orphans, but 22 orphans and one son." Mark Brucato as he and his wife, Ruthi, and their children Elianna and Gabriel welcomed Yaphet forever into their family.

Intimacy

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by Alyssa Carlburg

Water and tears beautifully blur.
My chest is an aching hole
desperately seeking a merciful cure,
which only comes through a submissive soul.
I finally see You are all that is sure.

I know now that I was utterly enslaved,
as I worshiped all but the One I need.
Seeking only my body as a means to behave,
Your still small voice, I did not heed.
No thought given to the arms that save.

I sought union with the one I desire,
and ignored the One who can satisfy.
My mind I submitted to Hell’s fire,
and shackled my heart to Satan’s lies.
My guilt drove me deeper into the mire.

In my darkness, Your hand reached mine.
Perfection became one with a wretch,
and the peace in my heart was Love’s true sign.
I was known beyond my mind’s stretch,
As my being (every cell) was refined.

Every part of me was filled with purging release.
My heart, soul, and mind lay bare before You,
And my senses were overwhelmed by perfect peace.
“I am His, and He is mine” utterly true.