Blessed are you when they persecute you . . .

He sat at the table across from us, smiling, comfortable, friendly, dressed in a dress shirt, tie, jacket. Since he has only been a France a couple of years and does not yet speak French or English fluently an Arabic friend joined my colleague and me to translate for the job interview. Since the job involves spiritual work like answering letters and e-mails about Christ, the first question was to ask for his testimony. My colleague asked in French, "When and how did you come to know Jesus?" Ali translated the question in Arabic.

His eyes softened. He relaxed in his chair and spoke to us of his wife. He was not a Christian; she was a devout Christian. She never argued with him, but was always sweet and patient with him. Ali struggled to translate--she was the odor of Christ to him. They couldn't have children; yet he was obviously a devoted and loving husband. After 10 years of marriage he embraced his wife's faith--making it clear that this was his own decision. He began to attend church with his wife and even started to attend at times without her. This caught the attention of the authorities in his country. He was arrested. After some time he was released and they arrested his wife. For one month they tortured her. She died. He was allowed to come to France as a refugee. He has not stopped trusting and loving the God she introduced him to.

He took out a tissue and touched his moistened eyes.

We paused a long time, weighing the cost this man has paid for his faith, sharing in his grief, awed by our God. How do we go on to question 2 of the interview questionnaire?

Learning Phonetics

Everything I learned about Phonetics I learned in Byblos. This charming ancient fishing village on the coast in Lebanon is the place where the Phoenicians invented the first phonetic alphabet. The Greeks later named the village "Book" (Byblos). So you can thank the amazing Phoenician people for the fact that you don't use hieroglyphics to type, write, tweet or text. Cool.

Ponderings from the Sewing Machine

Working on a quilt affords me plenty of time for pondering. This week I've been on a roll making a flying geese quilt out of a collection of African fabrics. It's looking pretty wild. Anyway for a while I was praying for the young man for whom I'm making the quilt. Then my mind wandered.

I thought about hope. Hebrews 6:18-20 speaks of hope. Verse 19 says, "This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast and one which enters within the veil . . ." In what do I really place my hope? Is it in our High Priest, holy, innocent, undefiled, separated from sinners and exalted above the heavens? (7:27)

I thought about the French high school girl that died in the bombing in Cairo, the nine people who perished in a Turkish air flight in Amsterdam. We don't control very much in life, do we? God is sovereign. I am not.

I also thought about the next quilt; sneaking peaks at the fabric and pattern that will one day be more than an image in my mind. Better get back to the machine.