Abraham's Advent Ebook/hope/Iraq/Preemptive Love

Abraham’s Advent: How It All Began

Posted on by Lindsey Gallant / 3 Comments
In case you’re wondering what this Abraham’s Advent ebook and fundraiser is all about. . .
I remember when the ISIS crisis came to the forefront of media attention last August with the situation on Mount Sinjar. I felt crushed, helpless, and yet somehow responsible.  I wrote about this feeling on my blog, and it seemed to resonate with many. The question remained – what could we do?
I cried, and prayed, and gave a few dollars, all we could manage at the time, to reputable charities helping out with emergency aid. And then in April, I cried again while reading Ann Voskamp’s blog. I clicked through the links at the end of her post, “Love in the Time of ISIS,” and that’s when I found Preemptive Love. The heart of Iraq called my name, and I knew, here was something.
My husband and I made a donation. I asked for a Preemptive Love t-shirt for my birthday. And since then I’ve been following what they’ve been up to, loving and sharing the difference they’ve been making in the Middle East.
Preemptive Love provides heart surgery for hundreds of desperate Iraqi children. They provide emergency aid to those fleeing violence. They also help ISIS survivors return to their homes and rebuild their lives. They are love’s “boots on the ground” in some of the darkest and most dangerous places in the Middle East.
I’ve wanted to do more. I saw people fundraising on their own, many selling their own crafts and artwork. Well, I am not a crafty person, but I do love to craft words. And then an idea began to form for my own fundraiser. That’s where Abrahams’ Advent comes in.
Abraham’s Advent is a devotional that was birthed several years ago. It came out of a time when I was a new wife in a new town, studying the life of Abraham. There was something about the narrative that sucked me in. I felt like I was following in his footsteps, and as I walked with him through the pages of Scripture, the story came alive. I could smell the dust. I could feel the heat. My heart beat right along with his in moments of both elation and fear. I lived the promises with him. Christmas was coming, my first Christmas away from family. I was fairly new to the whole concept of Advent. Somehow, in a way I can’t even remember now, I lived through that Advent with Abraham. I hoped along with him, each day jotting down thoughts and questions. And then I imagined what it would be like if past, present and future converged in Bethlehem on that oh so holy night. Somehow it all came together and formed itself.
Over the years I shared it with friends and family and a few in our church. I wrote it for me, but Abraham seemed to resonate with some of them too. And then at the end of this summer, as my sister-in-law Megan and I were talking during one of her visits, the idea hit. Why not turn Abraham’s Advent into an ebook, and use it as as a fundraiser for Preemptive Love? Yes! Here was a small something I could do.
I got in touch with a graphic designer friend of mine, Kathy Jimenez, and she generously donated some of her skills to the project. With her help (and my husband’s!) it is now a beautiful ebook, with proceeds going toward Preemptive Love. This is my offering.
I still cry sometimes. When I think about Iraq, about where Syrian children sleep, about Paris, about this whole hurting world. But there is hope, thanks in large part to the work organizations like Preemptive Love is doing. I believe there is always hope in Jesus, and through the people who dare to be His hands and feet in some of the riskiest places.
So this Advent, consider spreading some “preemptive love.”Consider sharing in this peacemaking movement. Consider taking a walk with Abraham, himself a stranger in a foreign land, and learn what it means to live within the hope and promise of God. Prepare your heart to welcome Jesus.
Abrahams’ Advent: A Stranger’s Journey to Bethlehem and Beyond is available now as a PDF download for $3.99 (CDN) in the Red Letters Shop. 
Living in hope,
~ Lindsey

 

a life of prayer/Abraham's Advent Ebook/hard things/hope/Intercessions/Iraq/prayer

Midnight prayer: Where do Syrian children sleep?

Posted on by Lindsey Gallant / 0 Comment

Oh God,

Where do Syrian children sleep? Only you know each troubled bed. Mine are safe under quilts and treasured blankies, wrapped in the security of home. Mine are sleeping deeply, even as I wrestle with the midnight thoughts and images I can’t escape.

Don’t let me escape them.
Don’t let me forget them.

The world is a broken puzzle, with too many pieces missing. Blown to bits.

What do I do? What do we do?

I don’t know the answers to the questions in their eyes, the cries in their sleep, the fear in their forms.

But I do know this…

Jesus, you were a child refugee, fleeing the evil of hell’s forces loosed. Where did you sleep, on the run to Egypt? Did you know the terror that sped your parents’ steps day after night after day? Would I have recognized you if you slept on my doorstep?

Jesus, you spoke of loving our enemies, and if ever we really needed to figure out what on this blasted earth you meant, now is the time. I do know love means risk. Love means the almost sure possibility of having to utter those heavy words, “Father, forgive them.”

Jesus, you knew the bloodiest torture of your time. You know the nightmares they relive. You weep over their crumbled cities. You weep over those who reject your way, and send these children into the cold night. You weep over hearts harder than the trampled ground. You weep for each child who has lost a home, each home that has lost a child.

Jesus, you pronounced blessing on the peacemakers. How can anyone make peace with trembling hands, and when the recipe seems forgotten? Yet you spit into the dust and made a balm for healing. You give eyes to see. You took a severed ear and restored it to your enemy. You give ears to hear. You took everything hell had to throw at you, and you made salvation.

I am no miracle worker.

But I know the only way to take any step, to make any peace, to break any curse, is to stay close to you. To embrace you as the child, alone and frightened. To look into their eyes and pray, and really mean it – give me eyes to see. Give me ears to hear. Don’t let me escape them. 

My children stir. They murmur and roll over. I will tiptoe close and tuck the covers around them, murmuring my own prayers of gratitude and blessing. And as I place my hands on them, I will pray for the others.

Yes, prayer may only be a beginning. But as we go forward, we can never leave it behind. For it is in prayer that we step close to Jesus and let him cross our borders.

Come, Lord Jesus.

{One small step I am taking – Please consider purchasing a copy of my Advent devotional, Abraham’s Advent. Proceeds from the ebook will go to Preemptive Love Coalition, an organization that is making peace and healing hearts in Iraq and the Middle East.}

~lg

grace/hope/morning prayer

The east window: how we begin

Posted on by Lindsey Gallant / 0 Comment

Enough! Too long! Child get the cloth! Quick to the east window, and wipe down the glass!

Enough! Enough dust and smudges and squashed fly remains, enough squinting through streaks to see the sun rise.

Wipe it all, inside and out. Let not this day’s light be filtered by yesterday’s dirt. A clear vision, a clean view – this is how we begin. Not a moment to lose, the day is almost crowning. Scrub and shine, right to every corner and across the sill. A final flourish of the cloth – now look.

Here is morning, and the world wiped new. Step back, the sun is here, and you shall see again.

~lg

a life of prayer/morning prayer/nature/prayer

Junco: a prayer for ears to hear

Posted on by Lindsey Gallant / 1 Comment

This morning, my ears feel numb. Dulled somehow to the wonder of the world, or the whispers of its Creator.

I clear a space in the muddled, meddling clutter, clear the view so I can see the sun shining on the sibling pear trees in the yard. I open the window, just a few inches, for it is nearly November.

The world breathes in. There is an underlying hum of the wind, conducting “Autumn” better than Vivaldi, and turning a wild dance with a golden, glittering poplar. A lone crow, a chickadee duet, the low clucking of ranging chickens – winged creatures speak over the wind’s hustle.

The Manitoba Maple has been shaken bare of leaves. The brave skeleton stands firm, twisted arms stretching, protecting this house from the nor’east winds.

I have been one to speak with the wind. But I am tired, and cannot distinguish its tones. A junco hops by on a maple branch. It is in the know. This I can tell by its bright eyes, and the way its feathers turn to meet the wind. It doesn’t stay long. It must follow the song.

I put my face close to the opening between my world and another. I breathe in. I pray. I ask to be shaken, like the poplar. I ask to be brave, like the maple. I ask to be merry, like the chickadees. I ask to be unbound, like the crow. But most of all, I ask for the junco’s ears.

~lg