Most of us have read those verses from James and have been both comforted and repelled by them. We delight in the idea of our faith being one that endures, yet we would rather run from than embrace the trials that can produce endurance. Instead of running, these Biblical truths have been something Jim and Jill Sigmund have found the faith to live out. Perhaps the early training ground for the trials they would later face together was the waiting they endured before meeting each other. Jim was 37 and Jill 30 before they met, marrying just 9 months later. Little did they know that an idyllic first year of marriage would be followed by two years of immense challenge.

After their first year of marriage Jim's mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Christmas Eve found them by her bedside praying. After undergoing two surgeries and two rounds of chemotherapy, today this "so, so wonderful" woman is spending time enjoying life and traveling with her husband. Jim and Jill feel blessed to have her still with them and doing well. A few months after the cancer was diagnosed, Jill unexpectedly found Jim hunched over in their living room with a rapid heartbeat. As they waited on paramedics to arrive, she prayed and asked God to take charge of his heart. God took charge by using the experience to reveal a heart condition and necessary medical procedure. Two years later, Jim is free of any heart issues. He needs that energy to keep up with their one year old son. That bundle of joy also came with unusual challenges. He was born 5 weeks early, in respiratory distress. After 13 trying days in the NICU he was able to come home, but required a helmet to address a skull deformity. He also suffered from extreme eczema which was uncomfortable and made sleeping difficult. The Sigmunds praise God that their son has graduated from his helmet and the eczema has cleared up significantly. Their newest trial is the highly unusual double diagnosis of Jill's father with two rare cancers: duodenal and bile duct. Following two surgeries, last week he started chemotherapy and radiation here in Orlando. They covet your prayers for him even as they trust God to see them through yet another testing of their faith.

As they face their newest challenge, Jim and Jill do so with prayer and with the experience that has taught them "we have a God who watches over us and is good even when we experience difficulty". Ironically, if they had not already walked through the reality of that statement they could not stand in the certainty of it now. The testing of their faith has indeed produced endurance. They eagerly await the fulfillment of that promise in James, "for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing." Praise the Lord.

As a way to launch into the world of arts and crafts, I bought some crayons and a coloring book. I envisioned the boys contentedly coloring away as I sat next to them working on my computer. "Finally, a way to get stuff done while they're up!" I thought.

The next morning I excitedly transformed our kitchen table into a kid-friendly work space. I spread out a big, plastic tablecloth, patting myself on the back for thinking ahead about possible destructiveness. Then, I set up my computer and called the twins into the room.

With as much excitement as Christmas morning, I handed them each their own coloring book, complete with stickers! I sat them in their chairs and opened the new box of crayons. I took notice of every crayon lined up perfectly beside the next, proudly boasting their sharp points. I evenly distributed the crayons between the two boys, remembering that with twins, you MUST do everything the same or there will be drama. "I think this might actually work!" I thought, as I confidently sat in my chair and settled into work mode.

Only a couple minutes of solitude passed, however, before I heard the "snap." I looked up to see the finely pointed tip of a crayon spiraling onto the tabletop. When I looked up at Jason, I knew that the waxy, orange crumbs on his lips nailed him as the culprit. Before I could explain that we don't eat our crayons, I heard the "crunch" coming from Michael's side of the table. A red tip fell to the floor.

Well, that's just two down, I thought. I tried to redirect them back to the coloring, explaining that the crayons were not our morning snack. I settled back into my chair, determined to get some work done. Then, out of the corner of my eye. I saw one of the crayons sailing across the room, breaking in two as it landed on the tile floor. Several more followed. I got up to retrieve them, only to return to an empty table. Michael was in the corner coloring on the wall and Jason was proudly displaying his scribbles on the tile.

At this point, I decided to buckle them into their booster seats. Maybe this would eliminate the temptation to color the house. With a renewed feeling of hope, I once again focused them to the coloring book, pointing out the stickers and evenly re-distributing the remaining crayons. For the third time, I settled back into my chair.

Then, the fighting started. One of them had a color that the other wanted. Or, they were frustrated that they couldn't get the stickers off the page. So, every couple of minutes I found myself peeling off a sticker and then-resticking it after they weren't happy with its original spot.

The final straw came when they started pulling up the plastic tablecloth and biting it. Feeling pretty defeated and discouraged that my idea didn't pan out, I got them down and they seemed much happier to move on to something else.

Letting out a sigh, I surveyed the mess--a ripped tablecloth, scribbles on mostly everything but the pages, and crayons everywhere. I picked up the box and started stacking the half-eaten and broken crayons. It was then that I realized this arts and crafts lesson may have been more for my benefit than the twins.

How much do I long for my life to be like that new box of crayons: the order, the beauty, the flawlessness? And, there was a time, before kids, when I felt that way. Those were the days when I still put on make-up to run errands, when I knew all the details going on in my friends' lives, and when I had the energy to do more than just crash on the couch at night.

It was the gentle voice of God that I heard next. It was as if he were saying, "Embrace the mess, Amanda. Am I more pleased with the life that reflects the ‘perfection' of that new box of crayons, or are you more of my reflection with your broken pieces and disorder?"

Funny how softly the Lord can speak to us and yet how loudly it can resonate in our hearts. I fought back tears as I thanked the Lord for this sweet season and for loving me too much to leave me the way I am. I cherish being a mother to my twins. I love how my twins give me a second chance to experience this life. I love how I get a front row seat to watch another human being grow and develop. I love that I can be the one to comfort them when they're sick or scared.

And today I realized that I love my twins for the way they are changing me and for the way God is using them to mold me into a better person, mess and all.

Fast forward to May 30, 2010: the day I competed in a triathlon. I realized going into it that it was at Ormond Beach and this reminded me of the failed rescue. What I didn't expect was for it to be at the exact same spot on the beach as where we went on the camping trip. This brought back some emotional memories, but none greater than when the race started and we all went piling into the ocean. That feeling of running through waves, trying to get out there as fast as I could, was exactly like that fateful day. I started feeling abnormally short of breath and just mentally out of it. I couldn't help but think that these were the same waves that I saw claim a life a few months earlier.

BUT then... all of a sudden the memory verses that I've been working on for Sunday school (Ezra 7:10, Jeremiah 33:3, Galatians 2:20, and Ephesians 2:18 etc.) started going through my head. By the time I was done reciting all of them, all the while swimming, I had regained my breath and strength. They reminded me that God was with me, by my side, giving me the strength to make it through the water.

AND then... I made it back in time for church. As I walked in, we were singing "Hosanna - Praise is Rising." The lyrics "Cause when we see you we find strength to face the day. In Your presence all our fears are washed away." made me shudder. I saw God that morning, through memorized scripture, and He gave me strength to face the race and he washed my fears away in the waters of Ormond Beach.

When my mother first met my birth father, Jonathan Hedges, she was divorced and had a four-year-old son. They met at a local party, and started dating right away. My mother decided to end their relationship after only a month. Shortly afterward, though, she realized that she was pregnant with me. She went on to tell my father, but he denied that I was his, and wanted nothing to do with her or me. Eventually, my mother had to give birth to me alone. I was born into a world without a father, without any roots.

That may not seem like that big of a deal to some, but to me, it was huge. I went through life, wondering, who my dad was and what was he like. If he met me, I wondered, would he want me? I saw other little girls with their daddies and I felt this deep pain and emptiness inside my heart. When I was about seven, I starting asking about who my dad was. My mom encouraged me to contact him, and she helped me write him a letter. I put my picture in it, sealed it, and sent it to his last known address. I didn't hear anything back, so I assumed that he either didn't get the letter or didn't care.

It was when I was thirteen that my eyes were opened to the fact of my own sinfulness and my need for a Savior. I had a good friend who told me that I was a sinner and needed Jesus to save me, otherwise I was going to hell. My eyes widened at the thought of going to hell, and I couldn't sleep that night because I knew that I didn't deserve to go to heaven. I started to go to church right away. I listened to Biblical teaching, but it wasn't until I went to camp that summer that I really heard and understood what Jesus did for me. "For our sake He made Him to be sin who knew no sin that in Him we might become the righteousness of God." (2 Corinthians 5:21, ESV)

Because God loved me so much, He sent His Son, Jesus who was perfect and sinless. He died in my place for my sins on the cross, so that I could become a child of God and have eternal life with Him. Every night, after days filled with horse back riding, swimming, and games, we came together for Bible teaching and worship. Every night, someone would share about how they came to trust in Christ Jesus as their Lord and Savior and follow Him. Every night, I felt terrified at the thought of closing my eyes and praying. I knew that if I did, something terrible would happen to me. The last night of camp, I finally gave up. While everyone sang the song, "It's My Turn Now," by Steven Curtis Chapman, I closed my eyes and prayed. I envisioned Jesus on the cross, when He died for my sins.

My mother eventually married Roberto. He noticed the change in me, and decided that he wanted to adopt me and make me his own daughter. That didn't happen, though, because my father, the one who I'd sent the letter to, found me. He was going through a difficult time in his own life, and he started to feel sorry for not being there for me growing up, so he decided he wanted to find me. My grandparents, who were Christians, helped him find me. After that, I was "grafted" into the Hedges family. It was a beautiful reunion. I met all my aunts and uncles and cousins, and a new brother and sister, too. Everyone lived in town.

On my 17th birthday, my aunts, Dorothy and Jane had a birthday party for me. Since they had missed my first 16 birthdays, they had a special gift for each year of my life. The gift matched the age. They varied from a baby rattler to a shopping gift certificate. By finally meeting my dad and his family, all the pain and emptiness in my heart that I felt growing up didn't heal right away. But, through trusting in Christ and following wherever He leads me, I have experienced true healing, and ultimate fulfillment in my life. Now I am married and have a family of my own, but I still need my heavenly Father who is the best Daddy I could have ever wanted. "How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!" (1 John 3:1).

As my family moved down to Florida in 1993, I began middle school and had a tough time. I had difficulty with the transition from a ritzy type area of New Jersey to an area of Orlando that was dominated by a Spanish culture in school. I did not fit in well and was mainly hurt by all this. In high school, I suffered from the first of my three nervous breakdowns that I have experienced in my life.

Now I'm 29, married to my beautiful wife Amanda and have a lovely daughter named Kimmy. Amanda and I have been married for over 6 years and have had our own struggles and successes.
It is God though, that has been in my life from the beginning. I believe and have believed all my life this very statement: FAITH OF A CHILD IS ALL YOU NEED. God has taken care of me ever since being a little boy in Colombia. He willl definitely take care of me as an adult.  He'll do the same for anyone else in the world, I just know it!

Thanks for letting me share this once again.

In all love and blessing,
Gary Bernstein

Rinnie and I both grew up as children of missionaries in East Africa. That background took us to my current occupation, which, for a number of years has been working in the African tech space. Two years ago I co-founded a startup called "Ushahidi" (which means "testimony" in Swahili), with a number of other Kenyans. We create free and open source software for use in crisis and disaster zones that take advantage of mobile phones and the internet. We've been greatly blessed in this work which is the reason we're going back to Kenya. While there, I'll be working with local software developers, web designers and the tech community on Ushahidi and will also start setting up an innovation hub.

While we are not going back to Africa in the same profession as our parents before us, we do carry forward the same banner and the same mission. That is, our first calling is always to be witnesses and to be a living testimony for Christ. This is all the more compelling as the individuals that I work with are in the tech community, traditionally a place where the gospel isn't widely or highly spoken of.

It's hard, as we're leaving one home to go back to a place we also call home. Leaving friends and family, setting up new business initiatives, the stress that comes with a major move and the girls all adjusting to life in a new culture are ways that we would appreciate your thoughts and prayers. We'll keep you in our prayers too, thanking God for the impact you've had on our lives and praying that he continues that good work within the East Orlando community through you in the future.

Erik, for the Hersman family

In the 90s, there was a Star Trek Next Generation episode called Booby Trap. In it, the Enterprise gets stuck in some kind of cosmic bubble. Radiation waves are hitting the ship, so they naturally increase the power to their shields, which in turn depletes the ship's energy. The problem is, the more they increase their shields, the larger the radiation waves become. They are in danger of losing all their energy, and having the ship torn apart by the radiation waves, before they realize that the radiation is actually the energy produced by their shields being reflected back at them. Such is the life of many perfectionists. We try so hard. We plan so well. We expend so much energy anticipating and fixing problems (many of which are simply imagined), and doing things "better" only to find ourselves exhausted, bitter, resentful and angry.

A few years ago, I began meeting with a Christian counselor. I was depressed, angry, overwhelmed, and resentful. I was engaged in some very dysfunctional sins. He immediately observed that I was living in a constant low grade state of anxiety, so he asked me to meditate on Matthew 11 where Jesus says, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest..." As I walked through the course of my days, he asked me to write down what I was feeling. I wrote things like: My feelings of being overwhelmed are tightly connected to feelings of guilt that whatever I do isn't good enough and I'm not living up to all my obligations I do not often experience rest because I am often preoccupied with anxiety and fear, particularly feelings of self-consciousness and insecurity regarding interactions with other people. I worry about others' perceptions of me, and spend time reflecting on things that happened years ago which make me ashamed today. I have a compulsive fear about whether people will find fault in my work, and I'm obsessing over little mistakes I make. I am always anticipating others' criticism and trying to avoid it.

As I'm writing this, I continue to come back to the feelings that whatever I do isn't good enough, but I can't answer the question "for whom?" I was stuck in the Booby Trap. But I didn't know I had to let down my shields. I can't speak for every perfectionist in the world, but for this one, all that fear, anxiety, shame, self-consciousness, and insecurity was wrapped up in a totally warped understanding of my own significance. I leveraged every angle of "excellent performance" and made every effort to be the "total package" (intellect, athleticism, professional success, family, money, etc.) to feed my "idol of reputation." My false sense of significance was grounded in people seeing me as the "go to guy," and the "guy who had it all together." But, that idol is never satisfied. Whatever I'd done was never enough; and even if everyone in the world thought I was perfect, the father of lies would invent some guilt and imperfections that I would have to go "fix." More energy...more anger...more depression...more guilt...more anxiety...more resentment...more pain...more energy. The idol is never full. The idol is a Booby Trap.

After over a year of counseling, the Lord put two words in my mind that changed everything... "True Value" I guess it was like the hardware store, so I could remember it easily, but I eventually wrote down, and began to really believe that "My true significance (value) only comes from God's unconditional acceptance for me in Christ." Once I began to really believe that, the shields gradually started to come down. I think most, if not all, perfectionists struggle with a warped view of their ultimate significance. Knowingly or unknowingly, they attach conditions to it, which usually comes in the form of recognition, achievement, and reputation. For the follower of Christ, until that conditional significance is removed from our hearts, we can never be satisfied...we can never find rest. And, even as the world is applauding our "perfect" performances, the "Booby Trap" inside will be blowing us apart...