Theology of Risk

Being at PFO, we have a great privilege of having veteran missionaries from all over the world here. It also means we're being touched by constant news from all over the world. I'm not sure how big this was back in Minnesota, but on Tuesday, a missionary was shot by rebel terrorists in Mauritania and killed. He was a friend of two of the staff members here at PFO, and it (as well as some other not-so-pleasant topics) unleashed some serious conversation around campus about whether or not missions is worth the risk.

Wednesday morning, the staff very wisely chose to move up a previously scheduled devotional on the "Theology of Risk." A missionary mom from the Ivory Coast in Africa shared about the years of fear she felt about her daughters being exposed to violence and possibly death. She admits it did take a really long time before the Lord took away the fear in her heart and covered her with the comforting thought that He was enough for any situation. In addition, she quoted a verse from 1 Chronicles 21 in which David basically says, "I will not sacrifice to the Lord that which cost me nothing."

So here we are all now wrestling with the idea. Part of me says, "You're going to Germany. What could possibly happen!?" But on the other hand, there are still costs to pay. Even if they're minor ones, I should be processing them and deciding in advance whether or not they'll be worth it to pay. That way when I'm overseas, lonely, frustrated, and moaning about not getting to watch Monday Night Football or missing my friends or feeling bleak about my singleness, my heart attitude will be one of worship toward the Lord! "I will not sacrifice to the Lord that which cost me nothing!" Serving God in the way he has called me is worth any risk.

TCK-PFO (huh?)

What is a tick-pfo, you may ask. It's where I am right now! (In case you're playing along with the "Where In The World Is Katrina Custer" game.) Actually, it's not about ticks though. This conference's full name is Third Culture Kid Pre-Field Orientation. Any missionaries planning on working with TCK's in the future are required to attend. Okay, but what is it, you may ask.

A TCK is someone who spent a significant part of his or her developmental years in a culture different from that of his or her parents and thus relates to multiple cultures without feeling ownership of any. Basically, if a family from the US, for example, moves to Brazil, their child will feel connected to American and Brazilian culture and yet feel like he belongs to neither. Usually, the mixture of cultures that results in his inner culture is called a "third culture." Observe my fancy graph:

(It didn't quite turn out green in the middle. Oh well.)

Those of you who know me best (or even at all) know that I am a TCK. My parents are American, so I grew up celebrating the 4th of July, eating Tex-Mex food, watching football, and valuing things such as freedom, individualism, and the opportunity to make something of yourself. However, I spent a significant portion of my developmental years (all of them) in the country of Austria. Therefore, I also grew up skiing since I was 4, ringing cowbells at sporting events, eating cured bacon fat, and valuing things such as conservationism, group cohesion, and privacy. What can happen is that these kids end up feeling very confused about issues such as loyalty and belonging, but they also hold great potential for future leadership because of their increased global awareness, appreciation of cultures, and flexibility.

This conference is all about clarifying that for missionaries who are about to spread all over the world and work with these kids. Even for me, though I am a TCK, it's been helpful to hear others' stories and pick up practical tips for me as I prepare to teach these kids. So, thanks for your prayers. I'll be here till next Friday.

Life and the Name

I'm following a read-through-the-Bible for 2009, and a couple of days ago, my OT and NT passages surprisingly correlated. In Nehemiah, the passage was a praise song when the Israelites rededicated themselves after the exile. In Acts, Peter and John met and healed the cripple outside the Gate Beautiful. The parts that stood out to me had to do with a reference to the "author of life." Both end up crediting life in general and a new life specifically to "the Name."

So, I was trying to figure out how authoring life and God's name fit together. It's true that when you give life to something, whether it be a baby, an invention, a new theory, etc, that you usually get to name it. But with God it's still different because it's about HIS name. In our case, the name comes after the birth of something, whereas in his case, life follows the Name.

Of course, as Christians, we know that our very existence is solely dependent on God's will to create us. The great I Am created little I am's out of nothing! Where I see my life's dependence on his name most severely is in my spiritual walk. It would be completely non-existent without his Name daily speaking into my life through his Word and his Spirit.

Europe, Final Part

After the container was loaded, my family headed in 3 different ways. Andi, Jen, Scott and Fiona all took scenic, slow routes while Mom, Dad, and I jumped into the truck we'd borrowed for my stuff and took off at 7 pm Friday night. We got into Kandern, Germany at 3 am where we promptly crashed for a few hours. Mid-morning we then unloaded all my future belongings into a storage facility belonging to Agape (a mission agency).

Then, my crazy parents, got back into the truck and drove it the 8 hours back to Spittal, arriving late Saturday night, before juming on the overnight train back to Kandern, arriving around 9:30 am Sunday morning. Talk about a whacky weekend.
I, spoiled as I am by my parents, stayed in Kandern where I slept, rested, prayed, read, and took a scenic walk through my future home.

If you want scenery though, Sunday trumped everything by far! We drove to Interlaken, Switzerland and took a cable car up to a mountain village, followed by dinner on the Interlaken lake, courtesy of some generous supporters who told Mom and Dad to spend it on the family. Just enjoy God's beauty the way it was meant to be enjoyed. We sure did!

Thanks for all your prayers for the transition, the good-byes, the packing, and all the travel. God is good!

Europe, Part 2

Friday morning dawned early, especially after the late night and deep conversations of Thursday night, but we had no choice. We had to get up, so Mom could wash the sheets, so the washing machine could be packed and loaded.

The big 40-foot container was supposed to show up at my parents' colleagues (the Klingsmiths) in Vienna at 7 am. It was an hour and a half late. Not a good start. Fortunately, they packed their end of things first, and we still had hope that the container could be in Spittal by its original 4 pm ETA. At total random (or God's prompting), Mr. Klingsmith made a comment to the driver about heading south to Spittal when they were finished. His answer, "I'm not going south. I'm staying in Vienna!" Mr. Klingsmith said, "Aren't you going to the Custers?" "Yes, right here: Custers, Villacherstrasse, Vienna." Of course, Mr. Klingsmith immediately set him straight and even drew out directions for the 5-hour drive from Vienna to Spittal, and - God be praised - he was there at 3:58 pm!

27 people from church were there, and it took us only 61 minutes on the dot to load everything. After that, there was pizza and cake for everyone. We as a family prayed in the empty apartment one last time and then headed out in our three vehicles.

Europe, Part 1

Wow, so much has happened in the last 10 days that have felt like 30! My siblings and I all arrived in Kandern, Germany (site of BFA and my future home) last week Thursday. We enjoyed driving around the countryside and visiting the school. For Andi, Jen, Scott, and Fiona, it held several reunions with old friends and teachers. For me, it was fun to walk the halls and meet some of my future colleagues, Lord willing.After a couple of days at BFA, we packed ourselves into two cars and drove home to Spittal, Austria in the pouring rain. And I mean 7 hours of POURING. Crazy European weather! Our first full day home was Sunday which was the day I was dreading most because church was going to be a good-bye for my parents. I did okay as long as I didn't look directly at my parents or listen too closely to the testimonies people were giving or glance around at all the church members. Basically, I cried a lot, but it wasn't so bad after all. They really are tears of gratefulness to God for the 28 years he allowed my family to live and work in Austria, 14 of them in this Spittal church that I love so deeply with all my heart.

On Monday, the packing began in earnest. 8 of us spent 8 hours the first day and plowed through so much. The guys started taking apart furniture, first and foremost my parents' wardrobes that have been old, broken, and cracked for years. Andi and Scotti made more runs to the dump than I remember. We girls packed books and dishes and a million other knick-knacks, and overall it was fun work, though we were definitely wiped out at the end of each day. Because we accomplished so much Monday and Tuesday, we actually got to take Thursday off and drive around to see some scenery and visit with some friends.

All right, more later.

:-)

Hooray for a new digital camera that lets me take and post pictures again! :-) Here's a random one I took of Mt. Rainier from a plane window:

My other brother's wedding

After time on the Oregon coast and Memorial Day in Portland, my parents picked me up on their way to Seattle. What was going on was that a really old friend from Austria who came to the states to go to bible college was marrying an American girl, and my Dad was performing the ceremony. Philipp was 2 days old when he and his mom left the hospital and came to stay with us until his dad could get off work (a few days later) and take them home. For a while, he was the only other kid at church next to me and the other MK's. We played countless games of Robin Hood in the woods, built a tree fort in his backyard with his Dad, ran through the streets of Villach to escape the masked monsters every December 5th, and of course there was the time senior year when he came faithfully to every dance practice and consented to be my partner at my ball. He's basically my 3rd brother, and it was a privilige to watch him get married to beautiful Chantelle last Sunday. Philipp, here's to you!

The Coast

The second church I got to speak at about my missions adventure was in Newport, OR, which is directly on the coast. I can't even begin to tell you how fun it was to see the Pacific again, not that it's anywhere near warm enough to even dunk a toe in that far north. Mom froze.

The family we stayed with, the Rogers, were super friendly and had a beautiful, huge, self-maintained garden surrounding their property. It was gorgeous for wandering and doing devotions in. My parents and I shared about our respective ministries in two different house groups, at a Saturday night dinner, and Sunday morning - I in the youth group and Dad in the main service. One of the house groups generously peppered me with all kinds of questions and really wanted to get to know me. I'm always amazed at how blessed I feel when I leave groups or churches!

On Memorial Monday the 25th, my parents went south while I drove back to Portland to see a few more old friends. We had a barbeque in which Anna and Karissa proceeded to get marshmellows in their hair (even though you can't really tell in the pictures). Three of us women were former Austrian MK's, and two had lived in Austria for at least a year. I was super impressed with all the patient husbands who still participated fully in all our reminiscing conversations.