End of the Earth

Peter Pan

2011-03-09T23:39:00.000+03:00

Last month my family went to Disney World. (I know... Africa and Disney are two totally different worlds.... don't get me started!) It was the first time for my niece, Hannah, who's two, and my nephew, Zeke, who's three.

Right before we left for Florida, Zeke watched Peter Pan, and he became a huge fan! He started watching the movie over and over, and he rode the ride at least three times at the Magic Kingdom. The boy even renamed his sister "Wendy-bird"!

On our last morning at the park, the weather was pitiful... misty, overcast, and pretty dreary. We were hoping to see the "Dreams Come True" show in front of Cinderella's castle, but when showtime came, they made an announcement that the conditions weren't safe for the performers... I guess dancing on slick pavement in high heels or big Mickey shoes is a bad idea for anyone! Instead of the performance, there would be a meet-and-greet with the characters from the show. About this time, I saw Peter Pan and Wendy walking out from the castle. Zeke was standing right next to me. I said, "Zeke, look, it's Peter!" I scooped him up and we took off running. We were third in line. Turns out, Peter eats ice cream for breakfast. Let's just say, it was the highlight of a little boy's day.

Some people have no idea what they're missing. They can't imagine what life can be like if they have a relationship with Jesus. They can't see the potential. But we can. We see it. And we know just how great it can be for them, if we can just get them to meet Jesus. So that's our job: to see Jesus coming toward them, take them by the hand, and start running. To stay with them the whole way. Sometimes it's a long run. And they might even turn around-- and that's their choice. But we have to at least try to show them Jesus. Point Him out. Go with them, if that's what it takes. The experience will be one that we both remember forever.

And who knows... we might find out that Jesus likes ice cream for breakfast, too.

5 Most Common (and Most Frustrating) Questions

2011-03-09T23:29:00.001+03:00

Since I've been home, it's funny how the same questions keep coming up over and over and over again. Most of the time, I don't mind answering. But, every now and then, I get really frustrated with these questions. And I know a lot of other returning missionaries get frustrated with them, too. So please hear my heart in this... we aren't the same as we were when we left, and we don't see things the same way, either. All that to say, here are the answers to those oh, so common questions....

5) How was your trip?
This question drives me crazy! It wasn't a trip-- it was a life. I lived there, bought groceries there, paid bills there, had a phone number there, and made friends there. When I moved there, I left behind a life I had built here, but when I came back home, I also left a life behind.

4) Did you learn to speak African?
I know this may be difficult for our English-speaking minds to wrap around, but everyone in Africa doesn't speak the same language! There are over 50 "local" languages in Uganda alone. A lot of the time I did speak English, but English there isn't like English here... "African English" has different phrasing, vocabulary, even a different cadence. I honestly had to re-learn how to speak English there! (And please don't be surprised when African English works its way into my American conversations... it happens!)

3) What's next?
I have no idea. I feel like God's calling me into some kind of missions work, but from the US-side of things. My heart is to help believers get involved in both local and international missions. Right now, I'm just looking for someone who wants to pay me a salary to do it... any takers???

2) Do you miss being there?
Power outages, dirty water, wandering livestock, and body odor? Absolutely not. Precious friends, piki-piki (motorcycle taxi) rides, hot tea in the shade, and ripe mangoes, passionfruit, and pineapple? Every day.

1) Are you glad to get back to real life?
If there's anything I've learned, it's how this life we lead here in America really isn't all that real. I don't say that to sound pretentious or judgmental. I know that people here have real, day-in, day-out struggles. People here are hurting with real problems. But, in the big scheme of things, we have no clue what survival looks like to people outside these United States. To live in abject poverty, not always sure where the next meal is coming from. To choose between paying school fees for one child and buying life-saving medicine for another. To walk a mile each way just to bring home 5 gallons of water. Or to simply sit under a tree with a friend and drink tea. That is real life.

Yes, I'm home...

2011-03-09T23:13:00.000+03:00

I know. It's been a while. And I have to say, I'm a little embarrassed to get back on and admit that in the 4+ months since I've been home, I haven't been doing a whole heck of a lot of writing. But hopefully, that's going to change. There are a few things that have already gotten themselves down on paper, and I think there are more to come. So no, I didn't get stuck in Uganda. I just fell into the hole that is America.

The Beginning of the End

2010-10-11T09:51:00.001+03:00

The end is near. My time in Uganda is rapidly drawing to a close, and I have to say that it's pretty strange to pack up the last two years of my life. My clothes and other things not worth bringing back to the land of plenty are walking home with friends. The "last hoorah"s have been planned. The goodbyes have started.

This whole thing is bittersweet. On one side, I am so ready to go home. To see friends and family I've missed so much. To get back to "comfortable" life. To have a conversation and know I've been understood. But then I think of all the precious people I've come to know and love here. Women who have become good friends. Kids who make my heart smile. Girls who simply radiate Jesus. Young men who have let Him get a hold of them and who will not be silent. The simple truth is that most of these ones who are so dear to me, I won't see again this side of heaven. I am reminded of this fact every time I see them, and they are well aware of it, too.

Which is why I'm so very thankful that this is not the end. I will see my Ugandan brothers and sisters again, even if I never make it back to Arua. And when I do see them, it won't be just them; we'll also be face-to-face with Jesus. As much as I've truly loved worshipping with them here, I can't wait for us all to praise Him when He's physically with us. Oh, what that day will be like!

And, as I think that though, God reminds me once again: this is only the beginning.

After this I looked and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people, and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands.
And they cried out in a loud voice:

"Salvation belongs to our God,

who sits on the Throne,

and to the Lamb."

Revelation 7:9-10

Open House

2010-10-11T09:43:00.001+03:00

Jack and Lawrence have started a new story group at a home in the Awindiri community. They were very excited about how the first fewweeks had gone, and asked me to come along, just to see how things were going.

When I got to the home, I was a little surprised that we were meeting on the narrow little porch in front of the house. Usually, people meet in places where they can spread out, preferably in a circle. But this porch is barely three feet wide, so everyone just sat in one long row and looked toward Jack and Lawrence, in the middle.

The other thing that stood out to me was how many kids were around the place. Now, children are one of the few things there's an abundance of in Africa, but there seemed to be more than usual here. I asked the father of the home how many children he had. As it turns out, he and his wife only had five children. But there were many children in their extended family who had been orphaned or abandoned, and he and his wife saw they needed homes, so they took them in – ten of them! In all, there were fifteen children in this home. The man and his wife didn't expect any pats on the back or handouts from the government. They just knew that God said to take care of children, so that's what they did.

There are lots of problems with Africa, and many of them will never be fixed. But, at least in this area, they've got it right. They take care of each other. Their doors are open. We are "all most welcome." I hope I can carry just a bit of that back with me when I leave this place.

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this:

to look after orphans and widows in their distress

and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.

James 1:27

Pyramids

2010-09-13T10:38:00.000+03:00

9/6/2010

My bucket list is just a little shorter today. We made a surprisingly short drive from metro Cairo to Giza to see the Pyramids. The whole thing really just blew my mind—it's just surreal. You're driving down the freeway, you look over to your left, and there they are. Right there. And just as massive as you expect them to be.

When we got into the "park," I just stood there, completely stunned. A little overwhelmed. I mean, what else can you do when you go to the pyramids but just stand there in awe? I was dumbfounded—emphasis on the "dumb." And I'm okay with that.

The pyramids at Giza are over 4000 years old. They are massive. Of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, they're the only ones left. Looking at them, even in the "ruined" state they're in today, it's easy to imagine how magnificent they were in their heyday. Even the huge stone blocks that were the base and sides of the structure fit together meticulously, and each pyramid was completely covered in gleaming white alabaster to reflect the desert sun.

We descended into one of the nearby queens' pyramids. The (backwards) climb down was awkward and pretty claustrophobic, but well worth it—I mean, I've been inside a pyramid… and I have the pictures to prove it!

The Sphinx is nearby, and we totally could have walked to it… but why walk when you can ride a camel? Again, it's one of those things that's awkward and not exactly comfortable, but absolutely worth it! My camel driver, who led my camel on foot, tried several times to climb up and ride with me, but, um, no such luck. He asked if I had a husband, and I said yes without batting an eye. (I think of it as less of a lie and more a statement of faith. I have a husband—I just haven't met him yet!) Our little caravan of 13 camels went around the back of the 3 famous pyramids and came out just below the Sphinx. He's a lot smaller than you'd expect… but he's still stinkin' cool.

I know the pyramids and the Sphinx were man-made. And they were built as part of a totally pagan system of worship. Which makes me sad. But the truth is, these things are mind-blowing. And even more mind-blowing is the thought that ancient people created them with very primitive tools. Even today, with all the resources we have, it would be nearly impossible to recreate these structures. And yet, they did it.

Almost as astonishing to me is the idea that God gave the ancient Egyptians the knowledge and skills they needed to create the Pyramids. No, they didn't worship Him. They didn't even acknowledge Him. They took the knowledge and understanding of the world around them and worshipped people and false gods instead, just as He knew they would. But He gave them these breath-taking skills and ideas anyway. He didn't have to. Knowing they would worship the sun and everything else under it, the Creator God could have chosen to vastly limit what he Egyptians could do. But He didn't. It's the definition of grace.

Rules of the Road

2010-09-13T10:33:00.000+03:00

9/7/2010

In Egypt, people drive on the right-hand side of the road. That doesn't sound like a big deal, because it's pretty normal. Except that I've spent close to two years in Uganda. In Uganda, we're supposed to drive on the left-hand side of the road. I say "supposed to" because, when you account for all the pedestrians and bicycles we pass, and all the time we spend trying to dodge potholes big enough to swallow a small car, we spend as much time straddling the middle of the road as anywhere else. Even after all this time, I still have moments when I think, "Now, exactly where on the road am I supposed to be?"

One thing that Uganda and Egypt, and India, and Kenya, and Zambia, and Thailand, and Tanzania all have in common is the general disregard for any traffic laws. You drive as fast as you can, wherever you need to, to get where you're going. You drive until a police officer forces you to stop. Whoever is biggest or in front has the right of way. Horns are the accepted and expected form of communication. Four lanes of traffic can accommodate at least six cars across. The number of passengers a vehicle can carry is only determined by how many people can fit inside. You do what you gotta do to get where you want to go. It's often breath-taking, sometimes scary, and always an adventure.

There's just one problem with these adventures in transportation: In six weeks, I go back to America. In America, people expect you to pay attention to the red lights. They want you to take turns at a four-way stop. The lines on the freeway are there for a reason. And you sure as heck better stay on the right side of the road.

I can drive in Africa. In Africa, I'm a great driver. But I have to admit, with good reason, I'm a little concerned about my driving habits once I get back to the States. I'm sure I'll have no idea where my car is supposed to be. I'll probably run a few stop signs. And I can't promise I won't try to make my own lane on I-85.

I say all this as a disclaimer. I'm sure that, in time, I'll be a good American driver again. I have no doubt I'll be an excellent defensive driver, since all the maniacs on the road here have given me plenty of practice. It just might be a good idea to give me a few weeks to get used to following the rules before you ride with me. Unless you want an adventure. Let's just hope the police have some grace for a girl who's been driving in Africa!

Sealed

2010-09-11T20:18:00.000+03:00

9/5/2010

We went to a bookbinding shop in Old Cairo. Yes, I was in heaven. They carry a line of original books (journals, agendas, photo albums) made from gorgeous leather, handmade papers, and cloth you can only find in Cairo. They will also re-bind old books in new leather. I’ll say it again. I was in heaven.

So, considering the horrible combination of shopaholic and book-lover that I am, it was a no-brainer that I would buy something. The only question was what. After an agonizing decision-making process, I finally chose a tan journal accented with cream papyrus. It’s so cool! And imagine my excitement when I found out that they imprint the spine for free! The whole imprinting decision was a much easier process. I decided to have my name printed on the spine in Arabic. (Turns out there’s a Lebanese-Arabic pop singer who all the boys also named Alissa. But that’s another story entirely.) So now, assuming you can read Arabic, there’s no question who that cool papyrus journal belongs to.

Which brought a really cool Word to mind. That book is mine. There’s no mistaking it. It is sealed with my name. In the same way, I am sealed. I belong to Christ. He bought me at a price so much more expensive than the one-of-a-kind journal that I forked Egyptian pounds over for. He set His seal upon me, and there is no mistaking Who I belong to. And, just like the imprinting can never be removed from the leather binding of my book, He will never remove His seal from me. It’s permanent. Which is so completely overwhelming. Just like I scoured the bookshop for the journal that was just right, He knew exactly where I was in the Universe. He chose me. He called me. He romanced me, and has never stopped. And then, He stamped His Name on me, to show the whole world that I belong to Him. I am sealed.

Place Me like a seal over your heart,

like a seal on your arm;

for love is as strong as death…

Many waters cannot quench love;

rivers cannot wash it away.

Song of Solomon 8:6-7, NIV

Letter of the Law

2010-09-11T20:16:00.000+03:00

9/3/2010

I knew this already, but I’m realizing it at a new level here. Islam is all about the rules, and about following them to the letter. Not the spirit, but the letter.

It’s Ramadan, which means that devout Muslims will not allow anything to pass their lips from the first prayer of the day to the last. Total fast. And, if you live in a country that’s not predominantly Muslim, that’s a pretty big deal. But not here. Egypt has just rearranged all of life for the month of Ramadan. Stores close at odd times during the day. As the time for the final call to prayer approaches, everyone prepares for iftar, the breaking of the fast. They all have a drink or something to eat ready and waiting to go as soon as the call to prayer starts. They stay up all night binging on huge meals, so they’re not really hungry during the day anyway. Many people sleep for most of the day, so they can party all night. They entire country even changed the time, like with Daylight Savings Time, so they can break fast an hour earlier.

So far, I’ve seen several women in full burqas, but most aren’t. The majority of the women make a point to cover their heads with scarves, and to cover arms and legs to their wrists and ankles. They’re mostly very modest, usually wearing full skirts or trousers and blousey tops. But lots of women, especially younger, more “modern” women stretch the rule. They’ll wear short-sleeved or sleeveless tops with a long-sleeved shirt underneath, often with tight jeans or leggings. It pretty much defeats the whole purpose of “modesty” when you can see her whole body—but hey, she’s covered. She’s kept the law.

All these laws, and the many ways to bend the laws, make me think a lot about grace. I’m so grateful that I don’t have to spend my life remembering a list of rules and trying not to break them. How different is our God, that all He wants from us is our love, our obedience, our devotion. That everything boils down to loving Him and loving others… and nothing else really matters. The letter of the law and the spirit go hand-in-hand. They complement each other perfectly. It’s not about seeing how far you can bend the rule without breaking it. It’s just about love.

Ancient PR

2010-09-11T20:13:00.000+03:00

9/2/2010

Ben Ezra Synagogue is in Old Cairo. It’s old… really old. The synagogue began in the 9^th century, in the remains of a 4^th century church. I mean, this sucker is OLD. (And it’s hidden really well… so well, we couldn’t find it.) One of the claims to fame of this synagogue is that it’s built right next to where Pharoah’s daughter found Moses. Oh, and did I mention that it’s also where Mary drew water to bathe Baby Jesus during their Egyptian exile? Both of these “supposedly’s” REALLY make me want to ask the question, “How you know???”

(This is the point where I wish my blog had audio capability. Because, in my head, the voice that just said that sounds like a cross between Madea and BonQuiQui, and I laugh every time I hear her. She’s a kinder, gentler BonQuiQui, but she’s BonQuiQui nonetheless.)

Okay. Back to this crazy synagogue. Seriously—how do they know? Was there a log book people had to sign every time they fetched water? Did they find the lease for Mary and Joseph’s two-bedroom flat right around the corner? Was this the ancient royal family’s private bathing ground, set aside especially for Pharoah and the kids? I’m betting that somewhere around the 11^th century, attendance at Sabbath services started dropping off, and the rabbi decided they needed a new PR campaign to bring in new blood. However it happened, I think there’s one small detail that folks have overlooked.

Ben Ezra Synagogue is almost 3 miles from the Nile. Someone was a PR genius.

Sweet Babies

2010-09-11T20:11:00.000+03:00

9/1/2010

I’ve travelled a lot. At this point, I’ve landed on almost every continent, and I’m starting to get used to being in the minority of any given group. (Living in Africa for two years will do that for you!) I’ve been to Asia, to India, to parts of the Middle East and Africa where most people do not agree with what I believe. Knowing that makes me sad, but it’s part of life. As my friend Mandy once reminded me, to most people, Jesus is offensive. And, if I’m going to follow Him, that means I’ll be offensive, too.

I’m on a plane going from Khartoum, the Muslim capital of Sudan, to Cairo, Egypt. It’s the middle of Ramadan, the Muslim holy month. (No, we didn’t check the Islamic calendar before we booked this trip!) I look around this plane and realized that, to most of my fellow travelers, I am an infidel. They think Jesus was a blasphemous lunatic, not the loving Son of God. And though it saddens me, I can accept that. I’ve been in situations like this before.

Only, this time, one thing is different. In the rows just in front of and behind me, there are five children under the age of 8. Every one of them is absolutely beautiful. Loving. Precious. Every one of them is positively adored by their Creator. And, unless someone steps into their life offering the Truth, none of them will ever know just how passionately the God of the Universe loves them.

I have no way to communicate with them. I can’t tell them how much Jesus loves them. I don’t even know the names of these sweet babies. But my Father does. He knows them even better than their precious mothers, covered from head to toe, do. All I can do is pray for them, that someday, somehow, the Father who loves them will find a way to romance their hearts and draw them to Himself. And right now, I have to trust that prayer for them is enough.

SPEAK Success

2010-08-30T11:45:00.002+03:00

I am beyond dumbfounded. We just finished a six-day camp at a secondary school way out in the village. I have eaten more rice and beans, and more cassava, than I ever thought possible. I drank so much tea my eyeballs are still floating. I shocked some African girls by carrying water on my head. And I am now, officially, a Squatty Potty Pro.

But none of that comes close to being the highlight of the week that was the SPEAK Student Leader Camp. Twenty-six youth from schools and neighborhoods. Even as they were arriving at camp on Saturday, our team really had no idea what was going to happen. For all we knew, this week could be a colossal flop. But the Holy Spirit moved… and never really stopped. Two students we’ve loved and prayed over for over a year chose to follow Christ. Students learned Bible stories and got excited about leading discussions. They spent time studying the Word on their own, many for the first time. Some are asking questions about believer’s baptism and what it means to be a man or woman of God. They, and we, have been challenged to change the way we think and act. The leaders of the existing story groups at Crane, Mandela, Vurra, and Ushindi schools have made plans for how they will move forward with their groups in the next few weeks, and other students are planning to start four new groups in their schools and neighborhoods. And, better yet, these students want to keep meeting together, to encourage and pray for each other, and study the Word together—sounds sort of like a church!

When we first came up with this hare-brained idea of a camp ten months ago, I honestly thought we were all crazy. We had virtually no leaders on our campuses; Kelli and I were doing it all. We really weren’t sure if we would even have any students to invite. But God got them here. He created the interest. He helped them learn the stories. He made them bold. And He did more in a week than we’ve done in almost two years. These kids are fired up. They’re asking God to speak, and they’re listening when He does. They’re writing songs. Making changes. Stepping up. Falling in love with Him and His Word.

I know none of this is about me. God has done more in six days than I ever imagined was possible. I’ve seen changes in Carol, Joann, Macklyn, Joe, Kenneth, and Arnold (yes, even ARNOLD!) that I never expected. I’m just thrilled that He invited me to be a part of what He planned to do all along.

He doesn’t need us, but He lets us put our hands in.

-Caedmon’s Call, “Two Weeks in Africa”

Call to Me, and I will answer you, and show you great and marvelous things which you do not know.

Jeremiah 33:3

Expect the Unexpected

2010-08-25T13:11:00.001+03:00

I love how God can do, and usually does, the totally unexpected. I
went to Ushindi Secondary to help Macklyn, a precious girl with one of
the sweetest spirits ever, to prepare to lead the Sunday story group.
She had never led before, but didn't hesitate to volunteer to lead the
story of the Ten Commandments. She had been studying the story all
week. She was pumped.

So Macklyn and I sat on a mat under a tree on her campus. She told the story beautifully the very first time, with only a couple of points that needed clarification. Then we used the SPEAK method to dissect the story, looking for sins, promises, examples, applications, and knowledge about God. We discussed the commandments and what they mean for us today. As we were finishing up, I asked Macklyn if she had any other questions about the story—something we hadn’t talked about yet. Immediately, she asked me, “Why did God tell the Israelites not to touch Mount Sinai or they would die?” (Exodus 19:12-13) Wow! What a great question!

We talked about God’s holiness, and what that means, and about how the people were sinful and unholy, and therefore separated from God. How God was protecting them by warning them, because His holy nature was just too much for them. I gave her the example of the Holy of Holies in the temple, and how the people’s sinful nature kept them from God’s presence. And we talked about how, when Jesus died, the veil in the temple was torn, giving us total access to the God of the universe. (Luke 23:45)

I left Ushindi on Saturday thinking that Macklyn had gotten a little more theology than she had bargained for, but really excited to see her lead the next day… then again, I love anything that gets me out to USS. It’s just a special place.

Sunday morning, I got up bright and early and made it out to Ushindi in plenty of time for the morning church service on campus. After the worship service was finished, about 10 students gathered together under “our tree”. Rose retold the Passover story from the week before (no small feat—it’s REALLY long!), and Macklyn moved on to the Ten Commandments. Not surprisingly, she did an awesome job! The story was flawless, and she did an excellent job facilitating SPEAK with the other students. After what turned out to be a meaty discussion, Macklyn threw out one more question to the group: “Why did God tell the Israelites not to touch the mountain or they would die?”

Okay, so I guess our discussion the day before had made an impression on her. After a few blank stares, she proceeded to explain God’s holiness compared to our sinfulness, which led to a discussion about how the death of Jesus opened access to God for us. I did a lot of explaining about how the only thing that can reconcile us to the Father is the blood of Jesus—no deeds, no offerings, no sacrifices, just faith, which is so difficult for them to grab hold of. Several students asked questions and made statements, and eventually one boy, David, asked, “If we’ve never asked Jesus to forgive our sins once and for all, can we do it today?” Uh, yeah! We talked it through a little more, and by the end of the story group, both David and Macklyn had accepted Christ! Glory!

Lately, I’m thinking that when it comes to my wonderful Maker, it’s best to just expect the unexpected. I mean, really… who gets saved from talking about the Ten Commandments? And for the “leader” to be humble enough to accept Christ is a pretty big deal—especially here. But I have to say, I love that He’s so unpredictable, and that I have no idea how His mind works. And a part of me wants to say, “Okay, so what are You going to do next?”

And the other part of me just wants to be surprised.

We Need Your Prayers!

2010-08-05T10:55:00.000+03:00

Our team desperately needs your prayers for our upcoming student leadership camp. We've invited 32 students to come to Ushindi Secondary School on Saturday, August 14. The 6-day camp will run until Thursday, August 19, and is intended to prepare students to lead small groups at their schools by themselves, since Kelli and I leave in October. We have a team of 7 volunteers coming from Iowa to lead small groups and to lead evening worship sessions through the book of Philippians. Students will be challenged to learn and lead discussions of Bible stories. They will be having daily quiet times, some for the first time ever! Many of these students are seekers, but not believers, so first and foremost pray for their salvation! Pray that God will change them and give them the desire to be agents of change on their campus. Please pray also for health and safety, for both students, volunteers, and those of us who live in Arua. We'll all be staying in the school dorms and eating local food all week, which might be a little out of some people's comfort zone! We'll also be playing lots of games and what I expect to be pretty intense volleyball and soccer matches- pray that no one gets hurt!!! Our team is already experiencing spiritual warfare in several different areas, which we think is all directly related to the upcoming camp... which is encouraging, that the Enemy is so threatened by what God's going to do! Pray for us to continually keep our focus on Him and His glory, and that Satan and his forces would be bound from the Ushindi campus and from the hearts of these students during this time. Thanks for your prayers-- I'll keep you updated!

students from Vurra Secondary

Arnold (a strong leader, but needs Jesus)

Herbert

Thom

Kenneth (has been seeking for a while-- pray that it's time!)

Nester

Evelyn

Peter

Samuel

Oprah

students from Mandela Secondary

Mercy

Diana

Edith

Sylvia

Christine

Dinah

Linda

students from Ushindi Secondary (the school hosting us)

Comfort (a STRONG believer)

Joann

Kenneth

Rose (leading music)

Macklyn (just accepted Christ this week)

Rachel (leading music)

students from Crane Secondary

Carol (accepted Christ in June)

Prisca

Derek

Peter

Godfrey (Catholic background, has lots of questions)

students from other schools

Thomas Titus (a STRONG believer)

Joe

Charlotte

Grace

Lawrence

Duck Duck Chicken

2010-07-31T10:25:00.001+03:00

Two weeks ago, a group of little girls from the neighborhood met me at my gate. After the usual round of hugs and tickles, they told me they wanted to have Bible study. I asked them what they wanted to study, and they said they wanted to hear Bible stories. Well, okay! Thus began the Saturday morning kids' club in my backyard.

It's all pretty simple. They come, drink some water, eat some cookies. I tell a Bible story, and we talk about it. (Getting them to talk is like pulling teeth, but it happens every now and then.) then we play games. Lots of games.

It's pretty clear that I haven't worked in children's ministry for a while, because I couldn't think of any games to play without balls or jumpropes or some kind of materials. All that came to mind was Duck Duck Goose. So I started trying to explain. It's a simple game, so that part was easy. I asked them about ducks, and found out that "duck" in Lugbara is "mbata". But then we hit a snag, because a goose is also called "mbata." I did some quick thinking and remembered that chicken is "au" (ah-oo). So we played "Mbata Mbata Au"—Duck Duck Chicken.

I wanted to play Red Light, Green Light with them, but how do you explain a stop light to kids who haven't even seen a stop sign? So we turned it into 1-2-3 Go instead. Today was bright and sunny (and hot!) so we played "Endrika"- shadow tag… which they all loved.

And now I have officially come to the end of my game repertoire. Any suggestions for good, non-neck breaking games for 3-to-9 year olds are appreciated. (Thanks, Red Rover, but I'll pass!) Please pray for the Saturday morning kids' club—that we'll be able to communicate well with these sweet friends, that the national kids will develop good friendships with the MK kids on our team, and that they all would come to understand just how much Jesus loves them!

On a Bad Day...

2010-07-27T10:26:00.000+03:00

Every now and then, there comes a day when I want to be anywhere but here. Maybe there's a conflict going on between different people- or myself. Maybe I'm frustrated with work. Maybe the power and the water are out on the same day. Or maybe I just want to be home.

But more often than not, on these days, something happens that reminds me why I'm here. It may be a conversation with Jesca or Carol. Maybe my friend Ayiko (aka "Old Baby") runs up and gives me a huge hug. Maybe a story group will have a record turnout. Maybe Prisca or Joann will tell a story from memory better than I ever could. Somehow, those little things just make all the chaos and frustration of life here worth it.

Last week, I was having one of those days. Things were just BAD. I set off for Crane, pessimistically thinking that we probably wouldn't have anyone even show up. As I walked down the path to the school, my "usual crowd" of preschoolers met me as I passed their homestead. Usually, 5 or 6 (or even more) will all come running, tackle me with hugs, and watch while 2 or 3 of them (my favorites—I'll admit it) walk on to the school with me. But on this day, they all decided to come along. Before I knew what was happening, I was walking (very slowly) down the narrow path with 7 preschoolers holding my fingers and walking in front of and behind me. One little boy had even left without his pants! We arrived (finally) at Crane, and they wouldn't leave.

I have no idea if these little babies know why I come to their village every week. I don't know why they come running to me like they do. And I can't communicate well enough in Lugbara to tell them stories about Jesus to explain. But I can pray for them, that God will put someone in their path to teach them His truth. And on those days, when I really don't want to be here, that's enough to keep the suitcases put away.

Keep Moving Forward

2010-06-17T18:45:00.000+03:00

Two things you need to know:

1) I've been using piki-pikis, the local transport, more regularly. A piki is a private motorcycle taxi. For a small price, a driver will take you to the door of wherever you want to go, and will often wait for you to conduct your business there, if you ask. When I'm wearing a skirt, I sit on the back side-saddle with my legs crossed.

2) The real rainy season, with daily rain, has finally come… about 3 months later than normal.

The other day I had to got to Crane Secondary School for a student story group, and had a meeting with a teacher at Mandela Secondary before it. Crane and Mandela are on opposite sides of town, but the meeting at Mandela was to be very short, and I had plenty of time for both. There's a piki station around the corner from my house, where several drivers wait for customers. As it comes time to leave my house to walk to the piki station, it starts to rain a bit. No big deal; it's just a little drizzle, and the sky is clear. Surely this will just be one of those two-minute showers we've had so many of. And I know I won't melt… so I set off. I haven't even gotten out of the neighborhood when the rain picks up, so I find a big tree on the side of the road to stand under. After a couple of minutes, the rain slacks off, so I start moving again. By the time I get around the corner to my friend Irene's shop, it's coming down hard again, so I sit on her porch until it's just barely sprinkling. It's now taken over 15 minutes just to get out of the neighborhood, but now it's time to go.

I start toward the road and a piki driver, Robert, sees me. He picks me up and we take off for town. It's still raining just a bit, but only a drop or two, so it's no big deal. We get about halfway down the main road in town and see that in the next block the sky is dark and there is an absolute downpour… and it's coming fast! Robert pulls over at a bank, and I hop off the bike and find shelter under the awning just in time. By the time Robert gets under the awning, the rain is coming down in sheets! The street is instantly deserted, with everyone hiding from the rain in shops and doorways. We sit for almost ten minutes waiting for the deluge to ease.

When it's finally slowed enough to not get soaked, Robert dries off the motorcycle seat and we try again. We go about two blocks and the rain starts coming down again. Robert pulls over again, this time at a soft drink depot crowded with people. People are apparently shocked to see a white woman out in the rain, as I hear lots of "mundu" statements, and see lots of sideways glances and smirks in my direction.

As soon as the rain slacks off, Robert decides its time to go again, and we drive off… less than a block this time before the rain chases us inside again. We take shelter with a barber who just smiles at the sight of a stubborn, dripping mundu. Another ten minutes later, the rain has really slowed, and Robert decides it's time to brave the road one more time. This time as we set off, the sky is clearing and the rain keeps slowing.

But now we've turned off the main, paved road onto a dirt road that hasn't been helped by the sudden downpour. There's lots of mud, several small rivers crossing our path, and heaps of now-muddy garbage scattered all over the road. We finally make it to Mandela, where my meeting really does take less time than it took to get there. We travel on to Crane with no problems, but the day's ride surely isn't the most enjoyable journey I've had on a piki.

God doesn't promise us "enjoyable". Or "comfortable". There are times when we're pretty much guaranteed to be wet, cold, or muddy when we get where we're going. Times when people will laugh at us. Times when we see people around us getting stuck, scared, stranded, or even falling over. Times when our plans get put on hold once, twice, or even five times before we finally get where we're going. Times when we'd really just prefer to go home, put on sweats, and curl up with a cup of coffee.

But that's not what we're called to do. He tells us to keep moving forward, even if it's just one step at a time. Even if our feet are cold and muddy and our hair is falling in our eyes from the rain. Even if it takes us three times longer than we expected. The one thing He tells us NOT to do is to give up!

So here's the upside to my perseverance: I get two more chances to share Jesus with girls at Mandela. And when I got to the village where the Crane campus is located, 6 little kids came running to meet me and give me huge hugs. What a blessing… definitely worth the muddy feet!

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.

Galatians 6:9

In Need

2010-05-19T16:21:00.002+03:00

I admit it. The past few weeks have been rough. I’ve been tired. I’ve been frustrated. And, to be quite honest, I haven’t liked Africa very much. Things here that are completely common have been wearing on me. Things like…

My friend Jesca’s sister-in-law had a miscarriage last year, and her body didn’t completely get rid of the baby. She developed an infection, and treated herself with the wrong kind of medication for a year before she died. She was 22.

I have a precious friend named Ayiko (“Happy”) who is 4 years old. He’s bright, giggly, and such a joy… the kind of kid I would gladly fold up and put in my suitcase to bring home. His toothless grin is just a small part of his charm. But then you realize that 4 year olds aren’t supposed to be toothless, and the only reason he is, is because all his front baby teeth have rotted out. Which just makes me sad.

My friend Irene runs a business and is struggling financially. I’m working with her on how to manage her money and be a good steward of what God’s given her. Buying her cooking charcoal in bulk would be one small way to save money. Charcoal here comes in basins for $1.50, or in large bags for $10. A bag should last at least two months, while the same amount’s worth of basins would only last about a month. But if word got out to Irene’s friends and neighbors that she had a whole bag of charcoal, people would come to her, expecting her to share… and culturally, she would be obliged to. The large bag wouldn’t last any longer than the small basins do.

I visited a village this weekend with a friend, and quickly bonded with a 5-year-old girl named Sylvia. As we were preparing to leave, her mother asked me, a perfect stranger, if I wanted to take her with me. I almost said yes.

My heart has been hurting for Africa. I have been so pained over the way things are here, over the difficulties and struggles of life that really don’t have to be. I’ve felt an utter helplessness for life here, for the sweet people I know here who work all day, every day, just to keep food in their bowls, a roof over their heads, and their children in school. And I have been reminded, more than ever before, that the only hope for Africa is Jesus.

When Ayiko, the toothless 4-year-old, arrived at our house the other day for volleyball, I went out to greet him and Carol, the student he comes with. (Carol is one of our students and Ayiko is her neighbor. He started tagging along with her to volleyball and Bible study a few weeks ago.) As soon as Ayiko saw me, he went to Carol and took a big, fabric-wrapped something from her and gave it to me. Then he got really shy. I asked Carol what was going on, and she said he wanted to give me a present. I unwrapped it to find a carving of two giraffes, one big and one small. I was thrilled, stunned, and completely humbled. I thanked him over and over, and then went to put my prize inside the house before I started crying. When I came back outside, I asked Carol where this out-of-the blue present came from. She said Ayiko told his mother “he wanted a gift for his friend.” How sweet!

A few minutes later, when Ayiko had gotten over his unusual shyness, I went over to him and asked him, “Did you know that giraffes are my favorite animal?” He looked at me, grinned, and nodded. “You told me!” (Well, at least there’s one male in my life who pays attention!)

Jesus knew that I’ve been struggling. Been heartsick. Been grieving over the way life is here. And he knew that I needed to be loved on by my sweet, pint-sized friend. To know that, no matter what, I’ve made at least a small impact on a small person in Africa. And that Africa has made a big impact on me. He knew what I needed. And He made sure I got it—in just the right way, at just the right time. I have to remember. I have to trust Him. And I have to believe that He loves my friends and all of Africa more than I could ever begin to.

“…my God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:19

American Most Wanted

2010-04-20T16:20:00.003+03:00

If everything goes as planned, six months from today I’ll be on American soil. (O happy day!) And in anticipation of the Land of Plenty, I’m sharing my American Most Wanted List. This is by no means exclusive, but the things that I’ve most missed during my time in Africa… and the things that I’ve realized I’ve taken for granted the most-- never again!

· - chocolate chips you don’t have to make yourself

· - vacuum cleaners

· - Chic-Fil-A

· - washers & dryers

· - electricity that’s always on

· - internet that works

· - water you can drink straight from the tap

· - Lean Cuisine

· - pizza that’s brought to your door

· - amazing stores that have all the food you need in one place

· - actual stores where you can buy new clothes

· - houses where you won’t be invaded by flying ants or bugs that are literally trying to kill you

· - toilets you can flush every time

· - water heaters you don’t have to manually turn on

· - places to visit within a 2-hour radius

· - nightly news I can trust

· - a living room suite you don’t have to throw big sheets of fabric over

· - dog food from a bag

· - church that doesn’t require an interpreter

· - Coke bottles you can throw away

· - Diet Cherry Limeade

· - dishwashers

· - ice cream from a store, not the back of a bicycle

· - DVDs for sale that aren’t pirated

· - movie theaters

· - bowling alleys

· - being able to leave home after dark without an escort

· - life where diarrhea is the exception, not the rule

· - mail delivered to your house

· - cold weather… anything under 65° counts!

· - clothes that don’t make me feel like a slob

· - real shoes

· - magic machines that give you coffee when you flip a switch

· - bathrooms where shower curtains and toilet seats are standard equipment

· - girlfriends

Sneaking Out

2010-04-18T16:18:00.000+03:00

The Tuesday after Easter, I went to Mandela Secondary School to teach The Secret Things to Senior 3 girls (basically 10th grade). As I came up the drive to the school, the path was covered with boys in the school uniform, standing with their trunks and mattresses outside the gate. Immediately, I started trying to think why they would be dismissing students two weeks early for break. Maybe they ran out of food and they had to send students home. (You laugh, but it’s happened!) Maybe they’re all just arriving back from Easter weekend. Or maybe they’re just ending this term early. After maneuvering around all the (rather unhappy) boys and their belongings, I parked and got out. I saw a large group of girls watching the commotion from inside the fence, so I asked them what was going on.

Sunday night over Easter weekend, about 75 boys had the bright idea to sneak away from school and go to the discos, and they stayed out until Monday morning. (Keep in mind that most secondary schools are boarding schools, and that discos are a major factor in the spread of AIDS in Africa. ) The school administrators were away because of the Easter Monday holiday, so when they arrived on Tuesday, they had to decide how to deal with this huge number of AWOL students. All they boys who snuck out were suspended for the rest of the term, which is a big deal, since they’ve all paid to attend school. They’ll miss the last two weeks of class, and their first-term exams, and they won’t be allowed to return to Mandela until next term begins at the end of May.

It turns out that the teachers, knowing teenage boys, had a sign-in sheet that the boys had to register on throughout the night. They actually had to wake up in the middle of the night and sign in to prove that they were on campus. Some of the boys who remained signed in for their friends who snuck out. When the teachers discovered this forgery, they chose a very ironic punishment. They boy who snuck out, whose name was forged, was forced to cane (paddle with a wooden switch) the boy who signed in for him. Imagine the guilt he felt, caning the friend who was “helping” him.

Having worked in the American public school system, I am a bit in awe of how the whole thing works. There’s no disciplinary hearing or parent conferences. A boy who left to buy avocados is in just as much trouble as the ones who went to the discos. And none of this is private. It’s all discussed out in the open, with all kinds of students and visitors (myself included) around. Shoot- I knew what happened before I ever really set foot inside the campus!

Some of the boys who were sent away didn’t really care. Some were angry. But some were really upset. They know how much school fees are, and what a privilege it is to be able to attend. And they know that missing two weeks of classes and exams will put their entire school year at risk. They never thought that one night of chasing fun (and girls) would have such serious consequences. And, sadly, it’s not just about school. I’m willing to bet that there’s at least one more AIDS-infected student on the campus of Mandela SS, now that it’s all said and done.

Just one more reminder that the things we do make a lasting impact on our lives and the lives of those around us, for better or worse. And that teenagers are all the same, all over the world.

The Great Samosa Hunt of 2010

2010-03-26T22:56:00.000+03:00

At some point last week, several of my roommates and I developed a craving. I have no idea where this craving came from, or why it hit us all at the same time. (Power of suggestion, maybe?) But hit it did, and once it hit, we were all obsessed... so much that now, four days later, I'm blogging about it.

Samosas. Sadly, they're relatively unknown in the States, but here in Africa, they're one of the few options we have for fast food. And, by the way, they're amazing. Think triangular, meat-filled eggrolls. (Or vegetable-filled... but who in their right mind would choose veg over meat???) I assume they were originally brought to Africa by Indian immigrants... but now they're an African street food staple. And we are so glad they are. Back to the craving...

I think it hit me last Wednesday or Thursday. Like I said, I have no idea why. I think it was really just a whim, like, "Oh, while I'm in town, I'll pick up a couple of samosas for lunch." I mentioned it to Kelli, who jumped right on board. Only one problem: when I got to the market, there were no samosas. Anywhere. Sadly, I returned home empty-handed. But the seed for a craving had been sown.

Saturday, the longing was still there. I was walking around the neighborhood and stopped at the little roadside stands... no luck.

On Sunday, Kelli, Jessica, and I went out to a school for the weekly church service and scoured the street vendors all the way through town there and back. We dropped a couple of students off for a funeral on the way back and kept looking at the little shops in their neighborhood. Success... sort of. The samosas were there, but only the nasty, bean-filled kind. No thank you. What's the point? The hunt continues...

Fast forward to Tuesday. The samosa craving is now in overdrive. Kelli and I had to run some errands in town, and we were determined to be successful today. No luck on Main Street- again- but we had a sure-fire, last resort spot. The coffee shop out at the airstrip outside town has fresh meat samosas every morning. So we drove the ten minutes out of our way, to find they only had two samosas left. Bummer. But two samosas are better than no samosas. We cleaned out the coffee shop and headed back to town.

But now Kelli had an idea. Deep in the market, there were women who (sometimes) had the coveted golden pastries. While I waited in the car, Kelli went to investigate. Disappointment- beans only. They told her to try the newspaper office. Because it makes perfect sense to sell snack foods at a storefront newspaper office. No luck. (Shocker!) The newspaper office staff sent her in the direction of a street full of guest houses and cafes, all of which were empty. But at the end of the street was a little cafe with a warming box. And in the warming box was a pretty little pile of samosas. Meat samosas, to be exact. Jackpot!

Twenty minutes after she left, Kelli returned with a bag of 13 samosas- plenty for lunch, and then some!

After five days, the Great Samosa Hunt of 2010 was successful... but there was a bonus find. Asianzu (ah-SEE-ahn-zoo) House, where Kelli found the prized samosas, doesn't just sell snacks. It's a full-on coffee shop, complete with an espresso machine that actually works! My friend Katie and I went back there today, and had real, legit lattes that were awesome, for about 50 cents each. Let's just say there's a new hot spot in Arua!

Not My Battle

2010-03-23T09:12:00.000+03:00

God's been having to smack me around some lately. My time in Uganda is coming to a close; 7 months from now I'll be back home with my family and friends… and unemployed. Don't get me wrong; I can't wait to see my people again. I've missed them almost more than I can stand! No, it's the "unemployed" part that's been making me uneasy. I've heard plenty about how crummy the American economy is and how high unemployment rates are… and I'm not really excited about joining the ranks. Go figure.

The difficult thing for me lately is knowing that, once I get off the plane, I have no plan. No job. No home. (Rooms to sleep in at other people's homes don't count!) And I'm one who has always had a plan. Even if the plan changed, which it did, and often, there was some kind of idea of what was going on. But right now, I got nothin'. (Not that I don't have ideas of what I want to do when I go home. I do. The roadblock is convincing someone to pay me a salary to do them!) But in the past few weeks, God's been trying to get my attention. He
keeps telling me not to worry. (Easier said than done!) That He really does have it all under control.

Recently, He's been even more specific. He reminds me of Joshua and the battle of Jericho. Joshua, the gifted swordsman and general, was instructed to walk around a city in silence while God fought the battle for him… "and the walls came tumbling down!" (Sorry, I just felt like singing for a second!)

And last week He showed me 2 Chronicles 20, when Jehoshaphat and the kingdom of Judah was surrounded by Moab and Ammon and greatly outnumbered. The Lord prophesied through Jahaziel and said, "Do not fear or be dismayed because of this great multitude, for the battle is not yours but God's…. You will not fight in this battle; station yourselves, stand and see the salvation of the LORD on your behalf. Do not fear or be dismayed; tomorrow go out and face them, for the LORD is with you." (verses 15, 17)

He keeps telling me, over and over, that He will fight this battle for me. And I have to believe Him. He has never failed me. He has kept me from getting jobs in places I had no business going. He has kept houses from selling at the wrong time. He has literally picked me up from one job and put me down in another. When it was time for my house to sell, He sold it in five days. He has kept me, comforted me, and provided for me all my life… why on earth would He stop now? I just have to remember to keep walking, to keep going, to watch and see and allow Him to fight my battle for me.

Jesca's Joy

2010-03-21T14:08:00.006+03:00

Jesca, like most Africans, has more than her share of financial problems. Her husband, Michael, has worked two different jobs in the past 6 months that never paid him. Jesca is paid well, but it's barely enough to meet their ongoing needs. And last month, after receiving her salary for February, she had to use most of it to pay for school fees for her younger brother. She had no money left to buy food; the sweet potatoes from her garden have been harvested, so that's all she has at home to eat for the next few weeks.

Last week Jesca asked me to pray for her financial needs. She didn't ask for a salary advance, and she didn't ask for me to help her. She just asked me to pray. So I did. I asked God to show Himself as her Provider, to meet her needs in a way that only He can, whether by having her other crops mature early, by sending someone to repay a loan, or by giving them an unexpected financial gift. I was so encouraged that Jesca was beginning to trust God to provide for her needs, not me or my roommates.

When Jesca arrived at our house the next morning, she was grinning from ear to ear. I just knew that God had moved in an amazing way, and I couldn't wait to hear about it… so I asked her. "Why are you smiling so," I questioned. "What has happened?"

She just laughed. "Nothing happened," she said. "I may have problems, but God is with me. How can I not smile?" she reasoned.

In a few short weeks, Jesca has learned the secret to true joy. She knows tat it's not about her circumstances, but the One who is walking with her through it all. And I am reminded that I need to learn a few lessons from her.

Out of the most severe trial, their overflowing joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity. (2 Corinthians 8:2)

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:4)

Indian Ideas

2010-03-07T13:54:00.000+03:00

I know I've been back from India for a while now, but let's just say that internet in Arua has been, well, annoying, lately. I've FINALLY gotten all my blogs, and even a few photos (!) posted. Sorry for the delay. Getting home from vacation has meant getting caught back up with work and house stuff, so it's taken a while. But at least it's all there now...

If you know me and my weirdness at all, you know that I'm a listmaker, and that, while no one would necessarily say I'm overly observant, I do make observations from time to time. They're usually more about generalites rather than specifics, but they make an impact on me... sometimes I laugh, sometimes I cry, sometimes I just think, "That's weird." Yes, I know. I'm the one that's weird. But I digress... I got to make LOTS of observations last month in India... and because it's my blog, I'm going to share them with you. Enjoy. (Or at least humor me!)

· It’s really difficult to drink coffee in the middle of turbulence.
· It’s a sad thing when you get overwhelmed by an airport.
· Airplanes fly around Iran to get to India.
· McDonald’s French fries are even better than I remembered!
· It doesn’t matter where you go—kids are just cute.
· I have really missed winter weather.
· Delhi is a very livable city—especially compared to Arua!
· Random cows wander the streets in the middle of the city of 14 million people.
· Parks are a great thing.
· I had no idea I was as thirsty for worship as I was… am.
· I like to shop.
· Cow patties are multi-purpose: fuel, home insulation, paper weight, you name it.
· That haze in the air isn’t smog. It’s just dust.
· Public urination is more common in India than in Africa. Didn’t think that was possible.
· Children here are either a commodity or a burden.
· A car horn isn’t just a way to let someone know they’ve ticked you off. It’s a whole way of communicating.
· No matter where you go in the world, kids love McDonald’s.
· Part of an ATM guard’s job is to work the card reader for the white tourists who can’t.
· Everything fades.
· I’m amazingly grateful that I don’t have to live this life in fear of the next one.
· Traffic sucks. And after an hour and a half of it, horns suck too.
· I despise the smell of mothballs.
· Being in a warm bed on a cold morning is one of the best surprises you can wake up to.
· Friends who challenge you to think and be better are a blessing.
· I miss my girlfriends.
· Slow is good.
· Sometimes it’s just fun to be a tourist.
· I really like to shop.
· India is a feast for the senses. I wish I could stay at the table for another 3 weeks or so.
· Culture is cool.
· I haven’t sweated in over a week!
· I’ve really missed working with a youth group.
· For future reference: Emirates only allows 66 pounds of luggage total per person- NOT 2 fifty-pound bags! That’ll throw a wrench in your plans!
· I ate McDonald’s 4 times in one week—an all-time personal record.
· There’s nothing like a delayed flight and almost-missed connection to make you really enjoy traveling.
· Sign of a great airline: warm towels.
· The Arabian Peninsula just looks like a whole lot of sand.
· We flew over Djibouti. I just think that’s a fun word to say. Djibouti.
· I like paisley.

Holiness

2010-03-07T13:38:00.002+03:00

2/13/2010

***Disclaimer: As much as I wanted to, I did not get to go to the Ganges River when I was in India. There just wasn't enough time to travel so far from Delhi. Which means I'll just have to go next time…***

The Ganges River is one of the most famous rivers in the world. It is possibly the center of religious life in India. And it is polluted beyond the point of foulness.

Hindus in India believe that the Ganges is the source of life, and because of this, it is holy. Being in the river consecrates you as well as whatever it is you are doing. So, in the pursuit of holiness, people literally live out their lives in the Ganges… every part of life.

People are dirty. We are broken and foul. And, sadly, we have a tendency to contaminate everything we touch… except God. His all-surpassing holiness cannot be diminished by the time I spend with Him; He cannot be less than He is. In fact, it's quite the opposite: by living my life in His presence, He (often very slowly) shapes me into His image and puts His holiness on me, all without becoming polluted Himself. Because true holiness is a refining thing. Something truly holy cannot become filthy and still remain holy.

When I brought the mess of my life to Jesus, He chose to take my mess upon Himself and cleanse me. He made me holy. But, because His very nature is holiness, He couldn't stay dirty. He was able to cleanse Himself and remain holy. The Ganges River can't do that. Neither can any other thing, created by man or God, that we tend to worship. Only the Most High God can cleanse us, purify us, and remain holy. And holy He is.

"Consecrate yourselves and be holy, because I am
the LORD your God. Keep my decrees and follow them.
I am the LORD, who makes you holy."

Leviticus 20:7-8

There is no one holy like the LORD,

Indeed, there is no one besides You,

Nor is there any rock like our God.

1 Samuel 2:2

Fear

2010-03-07T13:35:00.000+03:00

2/11/2010

Fear is an incredible motivator. Fear can move us to change our lives or plan our days based on what may or may not happen. And fear can cause us to do things that, at least in some parts of our brains, we know make no sense at all.

Here in India, fear is probably the biggest religious motivator there is. People feed street kids, give alms to the poor, light candles, and pay homage to gods who are, in all honesty, pretty fearsome things. Mothers even put eyeliner on small children to keep their souls from being stolen by demons; the thought is that the eyeliner makes the children ugly, so the feared spirits won't want them.

Fear has infiltrated the "Christian" church of Uganda as well. Parents have their infants baptized in hopes it will protect them if they die. They honor ancestors in fear of what will happen if they don't. My sweet friend Jesca was terrified that she might not have confessed all her sins, and thus might go to hell when she died.

I haven't lived in fear of eternity for a long time, and so, it's easy for me to forget just how big a deal fear actually is. It's easy for me to take for granted that my eternity is secure. One of the blessings of this journey to India has been being reminded of my need to be grateful. The Father doesn't want me to live my life surrounded by fear; in fact, He tells me over and over in His Word NOT to fear.

So do not fear, for I am with you;

do not be dismayed, for I am your God.

I will strengthen you and help you;

I will up hold you with My righteous right hand.

Isaiah 41:10

You will not fear the terror of the night,

nor the arrow that flies by day.

Psalm 91:5

There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment.

The one who fears is not made perfect in love.

1 John 4:18

Jesus came to this world not to condemn us. Not to judge us. Not to point out our many, many, many flaws. He came to make a way, to bring us back to the Father. There's no fear in that. May He always remind me that I have nothing to fear, and may He make me resoundingly grateful for that.

Taj Mahal

2010-03-07T13:27:00.000+03:00

Never in my life did I expect to visit the Taj Mahal. It wasn’t on the list of things I expected to come my way in life. But last month, I went. My friend Mandy, the more than gracious hostess, and I drove about 4 hours east of New Delhi to the town of Agra and visited the world’s largest romantic grand gesture.

Shah Jahan was a Persian emperor of India in the 1600s. The shah had 3 wives, but the first 2 never had children. The third was his beloved and favorite wife, because she gave him 14 children, 6 of who survived. (She was a very busy woman!) In 1631, she died in childbirth, and Shah Jahan ws devastated. He decided to build an enormous monument to this wife as a testament to his great love for her. He called for the greatest architects and craftsmen in this part of the world. He imported precious and semiprecious stones from all over. He had tons of white marble hauled to Agra by elephants and camels. And these thousands of craftsmen spent 22 years building and perfecting this statement of Shah Jahan’s love.

The Taj Mahal is extraordinary. Black onyx, jasper, carnelian, coral, and malachite are inlaid in white marble in intricate designs. Lattice-work pieces are flawlessly carved from one solid piece of marble. The courtyards were planned with a drainage system that carries rain into the nearby river. And the entire complex, including the reflecting pools, pathways, flower beds, outer courts, and 4 entry gates, is perfectly symmetrical.

It amazes me that God can give mere men the creativity and the talent to build something so amazing. That we can not just have the idea and desire to create something as grand as the Taj Mahal, but actually have the skills and perseverance to complete it, even if it did take 22 years. To say that it is an impressive piece of artwork and architecture is no small understatement.

But, even though the Taj is almost 400 years old, it is by no means permanent. It is fading. Because of air pollution, the beautiful white marble is turning gray. The paving stones and drainage grates are chipped and cracked in places. Some of the semiprecious stones have been stolen, or have fallen out of place. Pieces of the inlaid onyx on the outside of the buildings have turned from black to gray. And I’m reminded that everything on this earth fades. We are all in a cycle of destruction.

The only things that stand, that remain, are the things done for Christ. The acts of kindness. The loving words spoken. The sacrifices made. At the end of my life, what will matter is not what I had or how impressed people were by my possessions. What will matter is how I honored God and pointed people towards Him. I can use my “stuff” to do that, but I can’t build my life around these things. They’re all gonna fade. They’re all gonna burn.

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Matthew 6:19-21

But the day of the Lord will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything in it will be laid bare.

2 Peter 3:10

10 Ways

2010-02-10T11:49:00.001+03:00

Okay, so I don't usually steal for my blog. But this is really good, and I know lots of people who would agree. If you've wondered what you can do for us overseas, here's the Top 10 list.

10 Ways to Encourage a Missionary

In an effort to learn how we can best encourage missionaries, I emailed some and asked how they would most like to be served and encouraged. This list is drawn from their responses, including many direct quotes.

1. Pray for them and let them know that you are doing so frequently.

"One of the most encouraging/inspiring things we receive from people is a quick note via email to say that they are 'thinking' of us."

2. Send "real mail."

"Send a small care package. Some little fun food items that we can't get where we serve is a good idea."

"One idea is to send a special package before an American holiday (like Thanksgiving) filled with things that we can use to decorate for that holiday." **Please note that packages can take 6-8 weeks or more to get to us!**

"Send us a birthday card. This doesn't have to be some long handwritten note, just a little card - maybe even printed at home."

"Real mail is always special. Really, the thing with real mail is more than just getting some nice stuff from home (which is nice), but it seems a more tangible reminder that the people I love and miss love and miss me too and are thinking of me."

3. Pray for the people the missionaries serve and not only for the missionaries and their families.

4. Recruit others to pray for the missionary's area of service (city, people group, etc.) or for the missionaries themselves.

"This can be an amazing thing to have a person or group of people actively supporting the work that we are doing overseas - becoming an advocate for our city/work. It really encourages us to know that there are people going to bat for us and raising more prayer support for the work."

"Become an arm of our work in the United States. Some ideas include handling our newsletter distribution, website hosting (i.e., hosting a virtual website for the city), logistical arrangements, or short term team orientation."

5. Go visit them with the purpose of serving and encouraging them in their work.

"Have a group of your people come to minister to us as we are seeking to pour out our lives to others. This could be hosting a small retreat in country for our team or something similar, or coming to prayer walk the city we live in."

6. Send them updates and pictures of you and your family (by mail or email).

"It would especially be nice to receive end of the year updates or Christmas card pics. We want to stay connected to you! We love hearing from friends and family and enjoy keeping up to date on what's happening in your life!"

"If you have a friend overseas, stay in touch with them. Don't let cautions about being careful with spiritual language keep you from talking about the day to day "un-spiritual" things you would talk about if you met up for lunch one day. Sometimes the least spiritual emails are the most helpful, because somehow I feel less distant when friends talk to me like they always did before I left. Share updates on family, school, work, life, sports-whatever it is that you used to talk about with them."

7. Ask questions about their work.

"Ask not only how we are doing, but ask about our work and try to learn all you can about the people or city where we are serving."

"I know that this has been said, but truly CARING about the work is the best way to encourage us."

8. Continue to be a Christian friend and continue to minister to them.

"Don't stop being the church to us when we leave. Whenever security allows, spiritual conversations are good for our hearts. Missionaries struggle with the same sinful attitudes that plague Christians everywhere. Leaving home to live among unreached peoples, may be a step of faith in the process of sanctification, but it is not a step that roots out all sin. It is likely to lead to and expose all kinds of previously unnoticed and unexpected sin. Having friends that know me, are patient with me, and expect me to be the same struggling sinner I was when I left helps me stay humble when tempted toward arrogance, and hopeful when tempted toward despair."

"Even for us with strong member care, it is helpful to receive pastoral care from the stateside church's pastor who many times will know the missionary personally and have the history with them to be able to invest and mentor them and their family and marriage."

"Ask us those hard questions. Do a little pastoral counseling with us."

"Please don't elevate us onto some false pedestal. We are normal people too who have been forgiven much and for some reason God called to live and minister overseas."

9. Support them financially.

"Finding out if we have any specific needs and meeting those needs is great."

10. Seek to encourage them when they are on stateside assignment.

"Let us talk to you and your congregations, and small groups. We want to share what God has been doing and would love the opportunity to talk about it, raise awareness and hopefully gain more prayer support."

"Invite us out to lunch or dinner. Nothing fancy is needed. Remember we've just been in places where we may not have been able to even enjoy a little Mexican food."

No missionary mentioned this to me in emails, but I know it is a blessing when someone shares their summer home or cabin for a missionary family to get away and relax for a few days.

"Let us know about any good books that are must reads. Tell us about any good resources that may benefit our personal growth or ministry work: things like conferences, training for ministry/leadership, and so forth."

Mark Rogers is a Ph.D. student in historical theology at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School in Deerfield, IL.

http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/tgc/2010/01/06/10-ways-to-encourage-a-missionary/

Dubai: America East

2010-02-05T18:08:00.002+03:00

I think I can say, pretty confidently, that this is the first time I've ever sung "O Happy Day" while walking through an airport. But tonight, it is totally justified. After 14 months in the Ugandan bush, I am in America… for the next 3 hours, anyway. And I hat to say it, but I'm loving it. The Dubai airport is massive. Think Atlanta-Hartsfield, but bigger. It's 1 am here, and it's busier than Greenville-Spartanburg ever thought about being. All the sotres and restaurants are open around the clock, and the lines are long.

And oh, the restaurants! I saw Burger King and teared up… and I don't even LIKE Burger King! I paid 8 dollars for a caramel mocha at Starbucks. (I figure if I only spend 8 dollars at Starbucks in almost 2 years, I've done pretty well!) I saw all the pretty different flavors of ice cream at Baskin Robbins and wound up having to wipe my drool off the sneeze guard. Dunkin Donuts, Coldstone Creamery, Cinnabon… I don't have to eat there—just seeing the signs makes me happy!

I have to admit, though: when I first got into the airport, sensory overload kicked into overdrive. I guess you can tell you've lived in Africa for too long when walking into an airport is overwhelming!

Praise the Lord!

2010-02-05T15:43:00.001+03:00

I am on cloud nine! I met with Jesca this morning for Bible study, and I'd be lying if I said that I didn't go in with a spirit of expectation. In the past few weeks, I've seen lots of spiritual walls coming down around Jesca, and last week she asked me to pray that God would speak to her, and that she would be able to hear Him. (I didn't tell her I'd been praying for that for the last year already!) We gathered up our tea, coffee, and Bibles and went to sit on the porch of the boys' quarters. I prayed, and we began to discuss the third chapter of John, Jesus' conversation with Nicodemas.

Jesca has grown up in the church, and so is very familiar with spiritual things, but the idea of having a relationship with God is completely foreign to her. Knowing that some very popular verses are in this passage, I asked her if she had ever read the whole passage at once before, and she said yes. I asked her if God said anything new to her this time. "He told me that I'm just like Nicodemas," was her answer. I was floored! I could almost hear the Father saying, "She's ready-- it's time for Jesca's harvest!"

We talked and talked, about baptism and asking forgiveness. We read "that everyone who believes in [Jesus Christ] may have eternal life," (John 3:15) meaning that we don't have to be baptized to secure eternity, and we don't have to keep on asking for forgiveness. Jesus' blood covers our sins once and for all.

That part was a little hard for Jesca to grasp. She had been taught that any unconfessed sin would keep her from heaven, whether she was following Jesus or not. I told her that believing in Jesus' forgiveness means trusting Him to forgive all our sins-- sins from childhood, from yesterday, from today, from tomorrow, from five years from now. That we don't have to try to be good enough; we want to be like Jesus, because that's the pursuit of holiness, but it won't keep us out of heaven.

Jesca is by nature a very quiet person, and I didn't want to push her to something she wasn't ready for. I asked her if she wanted to ask Jesus to forgiver her once and for all. Her question was "Oh, but how can I do that?" I offered to lead her in praying for salvation, and she said that's what she wanted.

We prayed. I cried. It was all I could do not to lose my composure as this precious friend became my sister! When we finished praying, Jesca was grinning and glowing like I've never seen her before! I shared some Scriptures to encourage her, and challenged her to read God's Word on her own, and to ask the Father to speak to her through His Word. Jesca's very countanance looked different, and I told her so. She said she felt "relieved"; for the first time, she doesn't have to fear death. She knows that her sins are paid for and her eternity is secure.

In less than an hour, I will be getting on a plane to visit some sweet friends in India. I hate to leave town on the very day that Jesca accepted Christ. I've been praying for her salvation for over a year, and I know many other people all over the world have been praying, too. Thank you for your prayers. Please keep praying for her, that she would grow in her new faith and find sound doctrine in the Word.

I hate to leave Arua today, but I can't think of a better way to start a vacation! Praise the Lord!

India: The Beginning

2010-02-04T18:06:00.005+03:00

If you read my last post, you know that my vacation got off to a great start before I ever left home. The journey from Arua to India started off uneventfully enough: I spent a while at the Arua airstrip waiting on a late Eagle plane, but I still got to Entebbe 3 hours before my flight to Dubai. Easy peasy! Just boarding the plane out of Uganda made me happy. I've been on more than my fair share of little planes recently, and the sight of that big Boeing 777 did my heart good. When it was finally time to get on board, I had to make a conscious effort to keep my jaw from dropping. I'd never flown Emirates before, and it was the biggest, nicest, cleanest, roomiest plane I think I've ever been on! The seats are nice, and comfortable. We had a sandwich snack served on the 2-hour flight to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, and a 4-course steak dinner on the way to Dubai. Even the bathrooms were posh!

In the middle of such luxury (sadly, this is luxury, compared to my little world in Arua!), all I could say was, "Thank You, Jesus!" He's reminded me, over and over again today, that His mercies are new every morning. His Name is Faithful and True. And He knew that I need this precious trip to see precious friends even more than I knew it!

+++++

We just flew in to Addis Ababa right in the middle of the sunset. Hello, Ethiopia. I don't even get off the plane before we continue on to Dubai. Goodbye, Ethiopia.

When I first looked out the window and realized we were over Ethiopia, I thought I was looking at another planet. Seriously. It's less than 800 miles from Entebbe, but it doesn't begin to feel like even the same continent. Uganda is so green and lush and welcoming, and Ethiopia just seems desolate. The sunset cast a red glow over the dusty desert, making it seem even less welcoming, if that's possible. The thought that people can survive here, in as harsh conditions as they do, simply blows me away.

The Father simply astounds me with this world He's created. Just when I think I've seen the peak of His imagination, He goes and shows me that I really have no idea how His mind works. The thought that a place like this existed on this planet, not so very far from where I live, never crossed my mind. And He reminds me, yet again, of how glad I am that He is the One holding it all together, and not me!

Pray for Jesca

2010-02-03T21:54:00.000+03:00

I wrote about Jesca several months ago. She has grown up in the Anglican church and is very caught up in the tradition of the church. She doesn’t really understand what it means to be born again or to follow Christ, and thinks her membership in the church secures her eternity. Recently, Jesca and I have begun meeting for Bible study each week. She has started asking more and more questions, and seems to be really open to the Gospel. She has even asked me to pray that she would be able to hear God speaking to her and calling her heart to Him. Please pray that Jesca would accept the free gift of salvation in Jesus Christ, and that God would give me wisdom in my conversations with her.

The Big Fat African Wedding

2010-02-02T21:44:00.000+03:00

About a week ago, I had the privilege of going to an African wedding. Our friend Lamech, who owns Orasea Supermarket in town, was getting married and invited the entire team to attend. Thinking, “Hey, great cultural experience,” I was definitely game.

About 2 weeks before the wedding, our invitation was hand-delivered. The first hint that this would be more than we bargained for: the invitation said the ceremony would be at 10 am, with the reception to immediately follow at 2 pm. Starting to sound like a long day? Knowing how “African” functions tend to start a little late, we decided to leave the house at 10—we definitely weren’t going to rush and be 30 minutes early, like we would be in the States! We weren’t exactly sure where we were going, but we had a general idea, and figured we could ask directions once we got close. Well, we started driving, went off-road pretty quickly, made 2 wrong turns, and before we knew it, we were in the wedding parade! (Many people here don’t have transportation and so just walk or bike everywhere they go. It’s customary for the wedding organizers to plan for 5 or 6 cars to pick up the bride, the groom, and their entourages and take them to the wedding. These cars are always decorated with streamers and bows in the bride’s colors. People come out from houses as the cars drive past and scream, shout, and cheer for the happy couple.) So we’re in the middle of all these decorated cars with drivers honking and bystanders waving tree branches as we drive by. They’re thrilled, and pretty impressed, too, that a bunch of Mundus are a part of this wedding!

We finally arrived at the church, before the groom and well before the bride. We met with a few people we knew, and eventually they led all 15 of us into the church and onto the platform. As honored guests, we sat right behind the priests. Talk about priority seating!

Around 11 o’clock, Lamech and his best man cam in. The band and choir were playing local songs and “warming the church” for the bride. By 11:20 or so, there was a huge commotion outside as Jenipher, the bride, arrived and the local women welcomed her. The Boys & Girls Brigade (think RAs and GAs or Awana) and Mothers’ Union (maybe something like the WMU?) escorted her in, and they walked so slowly it took over 5 minutes for her to get down the aisle!

Jenipher sat on the chair next to Lamech, one of the priests prayed, and we sang one of two hymns in Lugbara. Most of the actual marriage ceremony was pretty much like what I was used to, except that Jenipher’s uncle came up to the front, took her hand, and gave it to the priest who then gave it to Lamech. The couple said their vows, exchanged rings, knelt for a blessing, and the actual ceremony was finished. But the service still had a LONG way to go.

We sang another song. We read 3 different passages of Scripture. We sang again. One of the 6 priests gave a full-length sermon. All in Lugbara. (They were kind enough to translate the sermon for us—I guess they thought we needed it!) We took an offering. We went through 3 different liturgies and then took communion. After 2 more prayers, the priests brought Lamech and Jenipher up on the platform to sign the marriage license. Then they went to the front of the platform to take pictures—all while the congregation was looking on! Finally, the service was over and the couple left, but again they walked so slowly it took 5 minutes to get out for the church! (I am NOT exaggerating—I wish I was! My friend Kathryn actually timed them!) Before we got out, the decorators came to get the flowers to take to the reception. We finally got out of the church at 2:15. But the “event” was only half over.

We walked about 100 yards to a school where the reception was being held. About 30 big tents were arranged in a huge square with a big open space in the center. Under one small tent in the center was the 3-tiered wedding cake, surrounded by 9 or 10 smaller cakes, all decorated with ribbon bows. There were also 7 long tables set out in front of the tents. Each ten was set aside for a different group: the bride’s relatives, the groom’s relatives, the choir, the clergy (that’s us?), and invited guests. There were also 5 or 6 tents that weren’t labeled. People who weren’t specifically invited to the wedding were welcome to sit there. Many brought their own chairs.

The banquet, consisting of about 12 full cooking pots, was set out on each of the 7 large tables. The largest pot could hold about 15 gallons and was mounded 6 inches high with enya. Enya is the staple food of the Lugbara people. It’s cassava flour, sometimes mixed with sorghum or millet, and cooked with water until it’s the consistency of playdough. It’s eaten with sauces, meats, and greens as a combination utensil/stomach filler. It’s NOT my favorite food in the world! The enya pots were by far the largest cooking pots I’ve ever seen, and were so heavy it took 5 men to carry each one!

We sat and waited and waited and waited. And sweated. And waited. The emcee finally announced Lamech and Jenipher’s arrival. One of the decorated cars drove up, and many of the women who were seated ran up to greet them. They spread big patterned pieces of cloth on the ground for the new couple to walk on, and they started the quarter-time walk across the fairgrounds. It took another 5 minutes for Lamech and Jenipher to walk the 50 yards to the tent of honor where they would sit.

Someone prayed a blessing over the food, but we weren’t invited to eat yet. A wedding is very much a community event, and all the women in the village had spent the morning preparing the feast, following Jenipher’s recipes and instructions. It was explained that, since this was the first meal Jenipher had prepared for Lamech (with the help of the other women) as his wife, she would demonstrate how it was to be eaten. They spread a mat on the ground and put a chair at one end. Jenipher knelt on the mat in front of him and fed him a bit of each dish with her fingers. When Lamech had had some of everything, it was his turn to feed Jenipher. We were all then invited to the buffet where our plates were loaded with food. Enya, chicken, rice, boiled potatoes, greens, roasted goat, and every part of the cow. We ate with our fingers.

After the meal was eaten, it was time to cut the cake. Or at least the big cake in the middle. The mat and chair were put back in the middle of the ground, and Jenipher and Lamech fed each other pieces. The cake was then cut into bite-sized pieces. Lamech served cake to Jenifer’s parents and uncles, and Jenipher served Lamech’s family. Bridesmaids then served pieces of cake to the rest of the guests, and it was, without a doubt, the driest cake I’ve ever eaten. At some point, Lamech and Jenipher snuck out, because about 20 minutes later everyone went back to the far side of the grounds to greet them again. Jenipher had changed from her wedding dress into a gold evening gown. They repeated the painfully slow walk, but this time they only walked to the cake tent. It was now time for them to give away the small cakes to the “honored guests.” First the bride and groom’s families were called up and presented with cakes. The emcee then asked for the chair of the wedding committee, the staff from Orasea Supermarket, members of the Arua Business Community, the clergy who officiated the wedding, and the best man and matron of honor. Then he requested the “friends of Lamech” to come forward. That would be us. They made a big deal about how we had made the wedding an “international event” by attending. Then they gave us our very own driest cake ever to take home. I was SO excited.

They moved one of the big tables to the front of the grounds, right in front of where Lamech and Jenipher were sitting. They then invited everyone to present their gifts to the couple. Everyone carried their gift to a conga line and danced up to the table to give it to Lamech and Jenipher. Finally, we had our chance. After we presented our gifts, we conga-ed on out of there!

We walked back to the car, greeted the guys who were responsible for guarding all the bicycles, and drove home. We finally walked in the door a few minutes before 6 pm. We were all hot and exhausted, but it was definitely worth experiencing my first big fat African wedding!

The Future

2010-01-18T15:19:00.000+03:00

I'm sitting in a coffee shop in Kampala. (Trust me, it's a rare
treat!) And I'm looking at the future of Africa. Right across from
me is a group of 5 twenty-somethings. They are well-dressed,
educated, modern. Probably university students from wealthy
backgrounds. And they aren't the only ones. All around me are young
professionals of the Kampala business community. They are here for
meetings, for lunch, or just taking a coffee break. It all seems very
much like home; if I didn't know better, if I didn't hear their
Ugandan-English accents, if I didn't know that the rest of Kampala was
right outside, I would think I was in an American Starbucks. All
around me are Uganda's upper class elite. The young and wealthy. The
top 1 % of the country- and really, it's more like ½ of 1%.

When I'm in Arua, I don't see this side of Africa. Everyone,
everywhere, is surrounded by poverty. The people I am closest to are
living hand-to-mouth. So it's easy to forget that there is wealth in
Uganda. There are people here with resources beyond what I have
access to. There are people here who are far better off than I am. I
look at this group of 5 young people in front of me, and I think,
there is hope. I see the couples who are enjoying their lunch
together, and I think, there is hope. I see the groups of friends
from 4 different countries and races laughing together, and I think,
there is hope. Africa is not a lost cause. Africa is not doomed.

But the change in Africa has to come from within Africa. The "Wealthy
West" can't come sweeping in and rescue the continent. We can't dump
planeloads of aid and subsidy and think that everything is fixed.
Because as soon as the aid dries up, the problems will start all over
again, only this time it will be assumed that the West will come to
the rescue again. We can come alongside, we can counsel, we can
share, and we can explain that even in the West, there are problems
that have to be managed and solved. But we have to allow Africa to
save itself. The continent has to stand on its own. As long as it is
dependent on the West, it is doomed to failure.

Africa can survive. Uganda can survive. I am looking at the
future. All it takes is for these 5, and thousands more, to choose
to take their place and save their country.

One Year Ago

2010-01-14T14:20:00.006+03:00

One year ago, I made the first of many long road trips north through
Uganda. One year ago, I saw baboons, hippos, and crocodiles in the
wild for the first time. One year ago, I arrived in Arua, the small
African town that has been my home ever since.

I am amazed that I've lived in this place for a year already. That
I've somehow adapted to the oh-so-very-slow pace of life here. That I
haven't gone completely crazy yet. That my time here is running out.

I have nine months left in Arua. And I definitely have things I want
to see accomplished in those nine months. I want Jesca to meet Jesus
and choose to follow Him. I want our school groups to become student-led and continue functioning after we leave. I want to begin reaching out to HIV patients here and share Jesus' love with them. I want these final months to count.

I guess the bottom line is, even though I miss my family terribly and
am ready to go home, I don't want to be so focused on getting home
that I miss out on my last months here. I want to continue being here
for as long as I'm here. Which, surprisingly, is a lot harder than it
sounds.

Please pray for us here in Arua, for good transitions as new people
come in and others of us prepare to leave later this year, that we
will keep our focus and not lose sight of our true goal.

One year down, nine months to go!

Trying Something New

2010-01-08T08:59:00.000+03:00

I just found a new feature on Blogspot, and so I'm hoping that this

will work... Maybe I'll actually be able to post photos now!

I know it's not Christmas any more, but check out the MASSIVE tree my
friend Sherry decorated at her house! We all went for carols and 21
flavors of ice cream on Christmas Eve.

Snowflakes

2009-12-29T08:11:00.001+03:00

Christmas decorations were a little lacking around our house this year, so I decided to make some snowflakes. When several girlfriends came over for a Christmas party, it turned into a snowflake-making class—who knew! But as I showed friends how to cut and where and we discussed “Snowflake Theory,” I realized that snowflakes carry a lot of spiritual truth.

• You can’t hurry a work of creation. If you cut too fast, or too far, or without thinking, the whole thing will fall apart in your hands.
• The more the Creator cuts away, the more delicate and beautiful the final result will be.
• It’s impossible to tell what the final product will look like until it’s completely finished.
• The completed work of art will never look exactly how you expected it to.
• In order for it to look right, a lot of stuff has to fall away.
• I made a lot of snowflakes in the past few weeks. Never once did two look the same—even when I tried!

I feel like God wants me to be more like a paper snowflake in His hands—willing to be cut apart, trusting my Designer, waiting for Him to unfold me and see what I look like!

Cooking Improv

2009-12-23T23:23:00.001+03:00

In an effort to build the Christmas spirit in the land of 90-degree days with a hot wind blowing and no chance of rain, let alone snow, we decided to have a Christmas movie marathon. We watched a different Christmas movie every night, ending with a "Jingle All the Way" and "It's a Wonderful Life" double feature. And what better meal to make it feel like Christmas, even if it doesn't, but chili and beans? I knew we didn't have corn chips, so I had Jesca make cornbread instead-- no biggie. I went to the grocery store to make sure I had everything I needed. A friend who owns a supermarket had given me several cans of stewed tomatoes, so that was taken care of. No canned tomato soup, but I can use tomato paste instead. Ground beef, check. Chili seasoning, done. All I needed was the beans. And there was the problem. I've never cooked beans from scratch, and I definitely didn't want to start now. I've bought canned beans in Arua before, but the day I went, there were none to be found. Anywhere. The only canned beans I could lay my hands on were baked beans. Oh, well, I guess it's better than nothing. And what's chili and beans with no beans??? So baked beans it was. Fortunately for me, the chili turned out great! I'm just glad my mom taught me how to improvise!

Immanuel

2009-12-22T09:04:00.001+03:00

Therefore the LORD Himself will give you a sign: the virgin will be with child and will give birth to a Son, and will call Him Immanuel. Isaiah 7:14

This Christmas season, the idea of “Immanuel” keeps coming back to me. I can’t leave it alone. I am struck by the mystery that surrounds this word. I just can’t let it go.

“God with us.” The very idea of it is pretty ridiculous. I mean, isn’t the whole point of being God the idea You’re bigger than al of these puny people, greater, set apart? God can do anything He wants. He created this entire universe just for His good pleasure. He definitely doesn’t need me.

And yet this all-present, all-knowing, all-powerful God chose to limit Himself to human form. He chose to become like me. And the part that I still can’t wrap my head around is the why—because He loves me and wants a relationship with me, and the only way to do that was to pay for my sin, because I can’t.

God with us, because He is for us. He wants good things for me. Around the world, in all the other religions, none of the other “gods” ever came to earth and took on human frailties, just to bring good to people. To test them, yes. To punish them, yes. To simply play mean tricks on them, absolutely. But to do good? Never. Only Jesus. Only this one “God with us” can be called “Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” (Isaiah 9:6) He is the ONLY good God.

Only Jesus. “The Word” of God—the very essence of Who He is—“became flesh and lived among us. We have seen His glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” (John 1:14)

He still dwells among us. He is still Immanuel—God with us. We must simply invite Him into where we dwell. We can choose to follow Him where He calls us. I can’t understand it. I am awed and humbled that the Mighty God, my Everlasting Father so desires a relationship with me. I can’t wrap my feeble brain around it. But I love Him, and I trust Him, and I am so grateful for my most precious Christmas gift—Immanuel, God with us.

SIncerity

2009-12-08T12:04:00.000+03:00

I just had an amazing vacation. Kelli and I went to Tanzania for a week, spending 3 days in Zanzibar and the rest of our time in Dar es Salaam. After a year and a half with no vacation, this one was badly needed.

Many of the locals in Dar and almost everyone in Zanzibar is Muslim. I’m not sure if I really processed all the ramifications of this before I got on the plane. But once you’re on the ground, it’s impossible not to notice. Mosques and masjids were everywhere. Children play on the streets in caps and veils. Women even go to the beach fully covered.

Today as we sat waiting for our flight back to Uganda, there was a large group of men in very traditional dress. White tunics, caps, beards, the whole bit. After a few minutes, they all picked up their prayer mats and went to a corner of the terminal to conduct their midday prayers. We could hear their praying all around us. When prayers were finished, they returned to their seats. One of the younger men took out his Koran to read, chanting again as he did.

It struck me that so many of these precious people, being so kind, generous, and welcoming, are truly sincere in their faith. They are genuinely trying to find God and pursue Him. They are trying to follow. They are sincere.

And they are sincerely wrong. I think that’s the most humbling part of the whole thing. I watch these people, who pray more, study more, try to do right more than I every thought about, and I know that they’re so lost they don’t even realize it. And I’m so grateful to know that my eternity doesn’t depend on the sacrifices I make, how many prayers I say each day, the clothes I wear, or whether or not I make my pilgrimage. My security isn’t based on anything I’ve done… which is good, because I am definitely not good enough. It’s ONLY because of Jesus, and His love for me, His death for me.

How I pray that these sweet ones who are so earnest in their pursuit of God, whether in Africa, Asia, the Middle East, Europe, or even America, would see, would understand that they don’t have to do anything but receive. And then be grateful for grace.

Things I learned in Dar es Salaam:

2009-12-07T12:00:00.001+03:00

~ Tanzania is sandy as Uganda is green.
~ White Sands Beach Resort is paradise. Praise Jesus for day rates, taxis, and cheap guest houses.
~ Big cities are NOT all they’re cracked up to be.
~ When you live directly above hell, you don’t need a water heater—the water heats itself!
~ SPF 30, twice a day, is not enough.
~ It’s weird to eat ice cream sitting on a tropical beach while listening to Christmas music.
~ Sand creations are always fun.
~ It’s a great thing to be chin-deep in the ocean and still be able to see your toes.
~ It’s not a great thing to get stung by a jellyfish or sunburned or knock a huge gash in your knee… especially not all in the same day.
~ It’s an odd feeling to see a Masai warrior, an Asian Hindu, and an African Muslim on the street and know that you’re the one who doesn’t belong.
~ As bad as I thought the Entebbe airport was, the Dar airport is worse.
~ My mom wrote a book of African proverbs—who knew??? Pretty sure she had no idea!
~ Fish and chips are that much better when you’re sitting by the ocean the fish came from.
~ If you’ve never had Krest Bitter Lemon, you’ve missed out on the best soft drink ever!
~ It’s hard to function in Dar if you don’t know Swahili. Which I don’t.
~ Some people are so lost, they have no idea how lost they are.
~ I’m grateful that my salvation isn’t up to me.
~ Prepaid electrical service isn’t a good idea. Especially when the service runs out at 11:45 at night when it’s still 90 degrees outside.
~ The end of vacation is a sad, sad thing.

Things I learned in Zanzibar:

2009-12-05T11:54:00.000+03:00

~ There are more shades of blue than anyone can count.
~ Every now and then, we all need to escape from reality.
~ Whoever invented open-air markets was a genius!
~ No matter where you are in the world, teenage boys are all the same. Give them a body of water and an audience, and they’ll wind up jumping in and turning flips.
~ I NEED to live near water.
~ God created Zanzibar to whet our appetites for heaven.
~ Africa is much more interesting than America. Not nearly as convenient or reliable, but much more interesting.
~ Hole in the wall places are tons of fun to explore.
~ Freddie Mercury was born on Zanzibar. Seriously.
~ The underwater world we rarely see is so much more beautiful than the world we spend most of our time in.
~ I can’t begin to imagine how creative God must be to dream up coral reefs, zebra fish, sea urchins, angel fish, tube coral, and starfish.
~ Recipe for a perfect day: Hire a private boat operated by Khalid and Khalid. Snorkel in the Indian Ocean. Play with 100-year-old giant tortoises. Explore Prison Island. Stop for a light lunch in the prison that was never a prison. Sail back to Zanzibar. Jump in the pool for a quick dip. Wander through Stone Town and find really cool doors. Watch the sunset over the Indian Ocean from a rooftop.
~ Mango just tastes better in Zanzibar.
~ It’s really difficult to communicate with a deaf woman who only speaks Swahili in the middle of a rainstorm.
~ I don’t understand why the only men willing to pursue me are the ones I’d never be interested in.
~ Everything tastes better when you’re sitting by the ocean.
~ Vacation was definitely God’s idea.
~ On top of all the ways He surprises us, God scheduled sunset every day just so He could show us His God-ness every single day.
~ Names like Eyebrows, Happiness, Rabaju, Felidah, and Michael the Masai just make me smile.
~ Vacation within vacation is a brilliant idea.
~ Zanzibar doors are amazingly creative pieces of craftsmanship.
~ Island life is just better.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2009-11-26T13:50:00.002+03:00

As I write, I am sitting in a (nice) hotel in Jinja, Uganda, overlooking the Nile River. The Baptist Mission of Uganda has gathered here for our annual prayer retreat, and I am so grateful to be with our mission family for one of the "big" family holidays. It doesn't feel like Thanksgiving. It's 85 degrees and steamy. We had pizza for lunch. And my family is on the other side of the planet. But, in spite of all this, I am reminded that I am called to give thanks, regardless of where I am or where I wish I were. So, in an effort to "fake it til I make it," here is the list of the Top 10 things I am thankful for.

10. Velveeta Shells & Cheese... comfort food at its best.
9. Jesca. She does all the dirty stuff, so I don't have to.
8. Washing machines and dryers. What I would give to never wash anything by hand again!
7. Living within two hours of elephants, hippos, and giraffes. Who lives like this???
6. Toilet paper. 'Nuff said.
5. Knowing that all I see is not all there is. My Redeemer makes anything bearable.
4. Amazing students who are seeking the Father, even when it's not popular.
3. A niece and nephew who love me and will throw fits to talk to me on the phone. And the fact that I don't have to be there to deal with the temper tantrums!
2. A family who supports me, no matter what harebrained idea I come up with.
1. Friends and loved ones around the world who are lifting me up today and every day. You are all so amazing, and I am truly blessed to have you in my life.

A Bad Day in Africa

2009-11-12T22:24:00.000+03:00

I have to admit—I don’t like Africa today. The past 24 hours have not been good for me. So I’m going to vent.

Yesterday afternoon I went to wash the dishes, but there was only a trickle of water coming out of the kitchen faucet. No big deal, I thought. We have water pressure issues all the time. There was water in the rest of the house, and the kitchen water should come back by the evening, or tomorrow morning at the latest. We’ve got plenty of drinking water already filtered, so we’re good.

The power was off all day, which, again, isn’t unusual. We have back-up batteries to run a few lights and for charging computers and phones. This is totally do-able, too.

I went to Bible study later in the afternoon, taking two pans of homemade brownies, since I was in charge of snacks this week. When I got there, I cut into the brownies, which were perfectly fudgy and gooey… and also firmly cemented into the pans. How on earth is it possible for brownies to be perfectly cooked and still not come out of the pans??? I still don’t get it. My friend Cathy helped me dig the brownies out and put them on plates. But seriously-- why?!

Kelli and I got home from Bible study to find that we still had no power and no water. Arggh! I set out to make my amazing corn chowder for dinner in the dark (the batteries don’t run the kitchen light), using the only 2 clean pots left in the house—since we can’t wash dishes, since we have no water. I started sautéing the onion too early and scorched the pot. Lovely. About this time I tracked down our night guard to check on the water in our 1000-liter reserve tank… and found out that it was empty. Evidently, the water pressure from town had been too low to push the water up to the second-story tank for the past couple of days, so we had been using water and the tank wasn’t refilling. Now none of the pipes in the house had any water. No toilets, no sinks, no nothing. Great.

(We do have a 2000-liter rain tank outside that we can use for washing, mopping, etc., but we have to draw the water outside and bring it in by the bucket. And it was dark and mosquito-friendly outside by this time. And my mood was already sour.)

I came back inside and realized that my soup had started boiling too high and was scorching. Fabulous. I turned the eye down as low as it would go and stir… no major damage done, just another frustration in a series. When the soup was ready, Kelli and I sat down to watch a couple of episodes of How I Met Your Mother before we put in the Harry Potter DVD we borrowed from Cathy. But when we put the disc in the DVD player, it wouldn’t read the disc. It worked the night before with no problems… but it is a pirated disc (don’t turn me in, please!), so maybe that’s the issue. We put it into Kelli’s laptop, and it work just fine. Some much-needed smart humor came our way… praise the Lord!

After How I Met Your Mother, it was time for Harry. I put the disc in, and the DVD player wouldn’t read it, either. Now, we knew this disc worked. But not in our DVD player. Which we just got last month. After 10 minutes of trying, unsuccessfully, to get the DVD player to work, I finally just gave up. I sat down with a book and a brownie to try to make things better. Surely, some chocolate will help.

A few minutes later, we hear someone at the gate. The visitor, a friend’s watchman bringing something by, was knocking, and the dogs were barking like crazy. We heard them… but the watchman didn’t. For five full minutes. Finally, Kelli went out to answer the gate, since Godfrey obviously had no intention of doing so. As soon as she walked out the door, I dropped my pen—my nice, American, great-writing pen—and the end broke off.

Fine. I quit. I’m going to bed.

I got up this morning and there was still no water. (On the bright side, power was back.) We still had plenty of filtered drinking water, so I made some caramel coffee and finished off the last of the brownies for breakfast.

Finally, the water tank started to fill, and my supervisor offered to let us take showers at their place across the street. Jesca came to wash the dishes, make tortillas for tacos tonight, and clean the house. And I got to shave my legs.

I hate that my frame of mind is so determined by what’s going on around me. And honestly, none of these things was really that big a deal. But put them together, and pile on a bit of homesickness, and you get a really bad day in Africa.

But it doesn’t matter how bad my day is. It doesn’t matter how many things don’t work out, or how long the dogs bark. Regardless of the bad day I’m having, God is still good. His goodness isn’t determined by my circumstances. Even when I’m in a funk and forget that He is good, it doesn’t change the fact that He is. Or the fact that He, for whatever reason, wants me to be here. And I want to please Him… so here I am.

Tomorrow will be better, because His mercies are new every morning. And I’m going to the pool.

Don’t be deceived, my dear brothers. Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

James 1:16-17

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.
Hebrews 13:8

For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever! So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever.
2 Corinthians 4:17-18

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;
His mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is Your faithfulness.
“The LORD is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in Him.”
Lamentations 3:22-24

What Comes Next?

2009-11-06T09:06:00.000+03:00

A very important anniversary passed for me last month. As of October 20, I have been with the IMB for one year. That in itself is pretty unreal to me. I’ve been in Arua for almost 10 months—also unreal.

You may know that I am serving a two-year term with the IMB. (You may know have known until five seconds ago… or you may not even care!) What all this means, in the big scheme of things, is that my term is over halfway finished. In less than a year, I’ll be home. And, honestly, I’m pretty happy about that. But it also brings up a whole new batch of issues, because I am a planner. And while I can’t wait to hug my niece and nephew, to eat really good food, or have some seriously cold weather, I have no idea what I‘m going to do for a living once I get home.

Okay, so I take that back. I have some ideas. I would love to work as a missions coordinator for a church. I would love to work for an HIV outreach ministry or at a crisis pregnancy center. I would love to open a restaurant or work in event planning. And I could always go back to teaching… although, right now, that’s not really on the “I would love to” list. Let’s just say I want “work” to be ministry.

I feel like I have this deadline of October 20 staring me down. That, by the time I head for South Carolina, I should know what comes next. I should know were my next paycheck is coming from. I should at least have the next destination in mind. But there are two things wrong with this thought.

I can’t trust how I feel. Because I am broken. Because I am sinful. Because I forget that, even though I have no idea what comes next, I serve a very big God who knows exactly what comes next… and when it is coming!

The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it? Jeremiah 17:9

The other thing God keeps reminding me is, it’s not October 20^th yet. Even though it seems like that’s my deadline, it’s not here yet. Honestly, it’s not even close. Over and over again, God has proven to me that I can trust Him to meet my needs at just the right time. He has always provided for me… so why should I think He’s going to stop now?

So do not worry, saying “What shall we eat?” or “What shall we wear?” For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. Matthew 6:31-34

Last week I was reading a passage in Luke; I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard or read this story before. But this time, something totally different jumped out at me. In Luke 17:11-19, ten lepers call out to Jesus and ask Him to heal them. Once they’re healed, only one of the ten comes back to thank Jesus. Everyone things it’s a story about gratitude… but it’s really a story about faith. See, verse 14 tells the climax of the story: “When He saw them, He said, ‘Go, show yourselves to the priests.’ “ Then the ten lepers, who were still lepers, went to be examined by the priests. “And as they went, they were cleansed.”

These men hadn’t been healed when they set out on their journey. They hadn’t seen a mighty work of Jesus yet. But they knew His character, and they trusted Him. I imagine they were thinking, “If He’s sending us to the priests, I guess He’s going to do something. Let’s go!” They didn’t wait around until after Jesus worked in their lives to start moving. They took Him at His word. They believed Him.

He’s told me, over and over, that when I go home next October, He will provide for me. He’s told me to let Him handle the details. He’s told me that I don’t need to add next year’s trouble on to today’s. He keeps telling me to trust Him… I guess I should start listening!

This is Where I Live

2009-11-05T09:04:00.000+03:00

“Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in Me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in Me and I in him, it is he that bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing.” John 15:4-5

To abide somewhere is to live there. That’s home. That’s where you belong. Day in, day out. Where most of your day-to-day “stuff” is. The place you keep coming back to. If I go to a place every 3 or 4 days, or even once a week, that’s not where I abide; I’m really just visiting. It doesn’t matter how comfortable, how friendly, how familiar it is—it’s not where I’m living. If I’m being completely truthful, the place where I do live now isn’t all that comfortable, definitely is not convenient, and is way too far away from anything the least bit familiar… but I’m here every day. I sleep here. My stuff is here. At least for the next year. (11 months and 2 weeks, but who’s counting???) This is where I live.

In John 15, Jesus tells us He want us to abide in Him. (I know, easier said than done!) We need to be with Him daily, even constantly. We can’t just “pop in” every few days to “catch up.” He wants our resting to be in Him, our day-to-day life to be in Him, our emotional breakdowns to be in Him, all our “stuff” to be trusted to Him. The place we keep coming back to has to be Him.

It’s not always comfortable. Not always convenient. It sure as heck isn’t always familiar… in fact, He’s brought me to places that don’t make any sense to me whatsoever. But I know it’s where I’m supposed to be… so this is where I live.

Or at least I try to live here. Every now and then, I try to run away from home… but wouldn’t you know it, that amazing Jesus keeps bringing me back? And when He does, there’s no place I’d rather be than in His arms!

Swap Your Stuff

2009-11-04T08:45:00.000+03:00

A few weeks ago, my sweet friend Joanna had a brilliant idea. In an effort to clean out her closets, she had a Swap Your Stuff party. And I have to say, I am a huge fam.

The basic idea was for everyone to go through their closets and bring all the stuff you didn’t want or need anymore. We brought it all to Joanna’s house, and whatever you wanted to take home, you were welcome to. No limits, no prices. Whoever saw something and could get to it first got to walk away with it.

It was a great night. I was able to clean out my closet, and everything I brought from home went away with someone else at the end of the night. And let me just say, I racked up. I walked away with loads of new books, a few new clothes, some Irish Crème coffee, an immersion blender (no blender in the Baptist Sorority house until now!), the board game Settlers of Canaan (not a typo… really… think of a map shaped like Israel!) and… wait for it… an ice cream machine!

I’d been debating over ice cream machines for a few weeks now, really wanting some good ice cream (which is VERY scarce in Arua), but not wanting to splurge on a 220-volt appliance I can’t take home next year. And now, praise the Lord, I have one for free—and I get to pass it on to a luck friend next year to boot!

So, to make a long story short, I highly recommend getting some friends together and having a Swap Your Stuff part. Who knows what treasures you’ll walk away with!

Mom’s African Adventure

2009-10-24T19:38:00.001+03:00

Last month, my mom came to visit. I have to say, I love hanging out with my mom. It’s really cool that we’ve gotten to the point where she’s not really my mom—she’s one of my closest friends. Anyway, back to the story…

The adventure began before she ever left America. Turns out, there was some kind of issue with the plane coming to the States from Amsterdam, so her outgoing flight was delayed for around 3 hours. She almost didn’t make her connection in Amsterdam, and there was no way her luggage was going to make it on that plane. She didn’t get reunited with her bags until five days later!

I had flown down to Entebbe to meet Mom at the airport on Friday, and we stayed the night with Amanda and Larry, some colleagues who live there. They took us back to the airport Saturday morning and we flew up to Arua on the smallest commercial passenger airplane ever—only 19 seats, less if they have extra baggage to carry! Mom’s jaw started to drop as we landed on the dirt runway. Oh boy—welcome to Africa!

Mom had never been anywhere like Arua. And if you’ve never been to Africa, there’s really nothing to compare it to. The sad state of our roads, the thousands of bikes and pedestrians, the random goats and chickens crossing the road. (Yes, it really does happen… and the punchline is true!) There’s just no preparing for Arua.

On Sunday we walked to Awindiri Baptist Church. It just happened to be Eid, the holiday that ends the Muslim holy month of Ramadan. The calls to prayer were louder, longer, and more frequent than normal, and we passed a huge gathering at one of the mosques on the way to church. What a great opportunity to be reminded of our call to prayer—for the salvation of those around us!

Church at Awindiri was great—very African, very different from home. I love worshipping with Africans!

Mom was able to go on campus to all the schools where we’re working, including Vurra Secondary, where we presented True Love Waits for the first time. When we got to Modern on Tuesday, we were sitting and waiting for the secondary students to finish classes when we heard singing at the primary school next door. We walked around the side of the building and found about a hundred primary students singing a traditional song. We sat down to listen, and before too long some of the neighborhood kids wandered over to investigate us. They were so excited to greet the three white women, and some of them were singing along with the bigger kids. Well, it didn’t take long for the kids in the choir to notice us as well, and when we realized we were causing a distraction, we tried to make a discreet exit. Some of the smaller children followed us back to the tree where we usually have our meeting. But once the primary kids were dismissed, they came looking for us—and we got mobbed! Everyone wanted to greet us, to touch our hair, and to thank us for coming. About 50 of the primary kids wound up staying for the story group with the secondary students—what a great day!

Some of the other highlights of the week in Arua: lunch at the coffee shop, Africa by Boat; lots of naked babies; conversations with students; dinner with my friends Billy and Joanna; tours of school campuses; women’s Bible Study; and a day off at White Castle (sadly, NOT the hamburger chain). And yes, Mom did get the full “Arua Experience” while she was here: no power, no hot water, and we actually completely ran out of water for the first time!

Ha Ha Ha

2009-10-23T19:31:00.001+03:00

Have you ever felt like God was laughing at you? Now, I don’t mean those moments when you do something goofy and everyone, including you, giggles. I mean, has the irony of your life ever been so great that you could just see the Creator of the Universe crumbling into a belly-laugh that makes thunder roll? That is exactly where my life is right now.

Before I came to Africa, I lived alone for seven years. I was a teacher for four years, which may be one of the most solitary professions there is. I’m a huge extrovert, and I love being around people, but when it came to my life, I was on my own and in control.

When I moved to Virginia a year ago to begin my training, my partner Kelli became my roommate. Sandra, Roommate #2, moved in 3 weeks ago. In less than 18 months, I’ve gone from being totally on my own to having two roommates! But that’s not all…

In January, we have a team of four semester volunteers coming to work with us for 4 months. Know were the two girls, Jessica and Bridgette, will be living? You guessed it—the Arua branch of the Baptist Sorority House. Go ahead and raise my roommate count to 4!

I know that I am a control freak, There are some things that I want done the right way… which is, of course, my way. I knew when I moved to Africa that a big part of my experience would simply be the Father refining areas of my character. I just didn’t know that living in a household of 5 women would be a part of it! Pray for me… and my roommates. We’re al gonna need it!

…being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. Philippians 1:6

Kids

2009-10-22T18:08:00.000+03:00

It’s crazy to me to think that I’ve been in Uganda for more than 9 months. Even amid all the culture shock, homesickness, driving stress, and “Whoa, I live in Africa” moments, it’s hard not to notice the kids. They’re amazing. Always smiling, always waving, always looking for just a bit of your attention.

The more I notice the kids here, the more I realize that kids, all over the world, are all the same: Bubbles are the best thing in the world. There’s no reason to walk when you can run. The best way to wear a jacket is by just putting the hood over your head. A dare can never, ever be turned down. And when you start singing, the louder, the better.

I don’t really know where this is going… maybe it’s not just the kids. Maybe, underneath the culture and the lifestyle and all the things that make us think we’re so different, maybe deep down, we’re all basically the same.

Bible 101

2009-10-22T18:03:00.000+03:00

Getting work started in Arua has been, well, interesting to say the least. And figuring out what youth ministry looks like here is more along the lines of frustrating. The time when we’re actually able to be on campus is really very limited, and it seems like something’s always “coming up” to interfere with our scheduled meetings with students. Some schools have been very receptive to True Love Waits, but other schools have been harder to get off the ground.

Latibo Secondary School is that school. Kelli and I have been on Latibo’s campus since January and have made some great relationships with students, but every attempt at a small group has fallen flat.

While Kelli was spending time with Lillian, one of the 4th-year students at Latibo, Lillian mentioned the fact that she wanted to read and study the Bible, but didn’t know where to start. That got us started thinking—why not start a Bible 101 class? Basic info about what the Bible is, why we should read it, and where to find help in it when we need it. Over six weeks, study involves a series of devotions through the Old and New Testaments, discussions, and Scripture memory. Students who successfully complete the course can earn a study Bible for their efforts.

Our first Bible 101 class met last Sunday at Latibo, and almost 40 students attended. We met with students again this past Sunday, with a smaller turnout, but still close to 30. Several students had completed all their devotions for the week, and more are continuing to work on them. (Another factor to consider in all this is the fact that 4th-year students began their final, national exams on Monday, which determine the courses of study students can continue in. The pressure is huge, and most of their time right now is spent studying.)

Please pray for the students attending Bible 101, that they would be diligent in their study and keep coming to the classes. We currently have 36 study Bibles, and would love to give them all away at the end of the course next month. We also hope to take Bible 101 to other campuses next year, if it continues to be well-received at Latibo. How exciting to get the Word into the hands of your people who have a real hunger for it!

How can a young man keep his way pure?
By living according to Your word.
Psalm 119:11

Blogger Way Behind

2009-10-22T08:21:00.000+03:00

Good grief! So I realized this morning just how long it's been since I blogged... and that's NOT okay! It's not that there's been nothing to write about, because there has. I've got lots of potential posts floating around in my brain... I just have to take the time and exercise the discipline to put them down on paper... and then type them... and then upload them to the site. So for those of you who enjoy reading about my (mis)adventures in Africa, have no fear-- blogs are on the way. For those of you who don't, well, you probably aren't reading this in the first place.

Thanks for your patience. Wait for it.....

Closed Ears

2009-09-08T08:38:00.000+03:00

This week in language, we started talking about opening and closing objects. Should be pretty easy, right? Not so. As it turns out, there are at least 3 different ways to close something in Lugbara, depending on what it is. Doors and windows always opizu, but other objects only opizu if the lid doesn’t come off when it’s upside down. Putting on a lid, cover, or box top is akuzu, and if it’s closed and hidden, like a wrapped gift, it’s abuzu. Body parts are a whole other matter. When you close your mouth, hand, or eyes, you abizu. Now that we’ve got these different words and understand the patterns, it makes sense, but in the middle of it, we were totally confused, trying to figure out what determines whether you opizu or akuzu something.

But I started thinking. (Always trouble!) Many times we talk about having closed our ears so we don’t have to hear what we’re being told. When we were young and someone told a story my sister didn’t like, she would stick her fingers in her ears and sing at the top of her lungs to drown everyone out… and I know that I’ve been guilty of doing that with God. So I asked Pamela, our language helper, if you can abizu your ears just like you do your mouth.

She said no. The ears don’t close on their own; you have to intentionally close them. You opizu them, just like a door. You have to choose not to hear.

And how true that is. When God speaks to me, I hear Him. I know what He’s saying. But I choose to listen to Him, to follow Him in obedience, or not.

Lord, please help me to remember to njizu my ears, not to obizuˆthem!

Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it, he will be blessed in what he does. (James 1:22-25)

Sunday Adventure

2009-09-01T11:52:00.000+03:00

It all started mundanely enough. On Thursday Kevyn, one of our students from Latibo, asked us to go to church with her Sunday morning. We’d love to go! We had no idea where St. Luke’s church was, so we agreed to meet her on the main road out near where she lives so she could keep us from getting lost on the dirt paths that pass for roads out here. Services start at 8, so we would meet her at the sign for a local school at 7:45.

Kelli and I left the house in Pearl, our truck, right on time at 7:30. On the way out to Kevyn’s neighborhood, the lorry in front of me slowed to a stop on the main road, and I stopped behind it. Before I could realize what was happening or throw the car into reverse, the lorry starts backing up. I “hooted” the horn, and the man in the bed of the lorry tried to get the driver’s attention, but evidently not quickly enough… he backed right into me! Fortunately, he was going slowly already and stopped when he realized what he was backing into. He had barely touched the bull bar on the front of Pearl, so when he pulled into the parking lot he was trying to get into in the first place, we went on to meet Kevyn… with a whole new appreciation for the black metal tubes across the front of Pearl!

We got to the area known as “Muni” where we had agreed to meet Kevyn… who wasn’t there. What to do? We had no idea where to go next. I turned down a side road to see if there were any clues to where St. Luke’s might be, but chickened out when the road forked. Meanwhile, Kelli tried to call Kevyn, but she didn’t answer her phone. I drove back out to the main road and pulled into the closest parking lot. Finally, Kevyn called me… she was already at the church! I tried to explain to her that we didn’t know how to get to the church, and she said to go back to the road I had turned down in the first place. I drove back to the road and pulled over for my next instructions. Kevyn called back and asked why we weren’t at the church. Finally she said that she would come out to meet us. By this time, one of the men on the side of the road had come over to see if he could help us. I told him we were trying to get to St. Luke’s church, which he said was in town. (!) Fortunately, he asked around and found out where the church was… straight down the road I chickened out on fifteen minutes before! After getting relatively clear directions (for Africa, anyway) we tried it again. About halfway there, we found Kevyn riding a piki (motorcycle taxi) and picked her up to take her back to the church. The bright note: “parking” was completely painless, since we had the only vehicle there, besides a couple of bikes!

Even though we were twenty minutes late, the church service was just getting started and half the pews were empty. Even so, Kevyn paraded the two of us up to the very front of the sanctuary and sat us right up on the platform. (Lovely… the two mundus get to be on display???) During the entire service, I expected to be called on to share a “word from the Lord”… whether I felt led to or not! In addition to the two “foreign visitors from Europe”, there was also a team of 3 visitors from Congo, one of whom preached. (Good- we’re off the hook!) His text was from Luke 18, where Jesus talks about counting the cost of being a disciple, but somehow he turned it around to make the point that “the church must plan” and Christians must give to the church sacrificially. (Kevyn didn’t have any money with her, so she put an IOU in the offering bag!) During the service, Kelli and I were asked to introduce ourselves twice, partly because the parish priest arrived after our first introduction and he wanted to know who we were! After the service concluded, Kevyn’s friend Eric asked us if we were free Sunday to preach… uh, NO!

Kevyn wanted us to go back to see her home, so we loaded up in Pearl with her and her cousin, Victoria, and hit the trails… literally. We turned off the main dirt road onto a smaller dirt road, and then onto a tiny path. As I was pulling off the road beside Kevyn’s homestead, Pearl’s right front tire went right into an 8-inch wide ditch—just barely wide enough for the tire to fit, but we were stuck nonetheless. Yikes! We tried a mix of four-wheel drive and pushing to get it out, but nothing worked. Now what??? Well, Kevyn’s father and brother (or cousin, I’m not quite sure) and all the kids in the area went running to find broken bricks and rocks to build up a ramp for me to drive out. Her brother dug a slight ramp into the road (for once, a dirt road is a good thing!), I tried four-wheel drive again, and out Pearl came!

Since the crisis was now over, we went to officially meet Kevyn’s family. Her mother and “follower” (the sister who came immediately after her in birth order) were away, but the twins who are her follower’s followers were there, as well as the youngest. We sat under a mango tree for a while just chatting with Victoria, Kevyn, and her father, Oscar. One of their dogs had puppies a few weeks ago, so Kelli and I both got to love on a puppy while we talked. After a short while, the twin brother came walking towards us, carrying a chicken. Kevyn said they wanted us to have the chicken, and that Jesca could show us how to prepare it. (Giving a chicken, especially to mundus, isn’t uncommon, but it’s usually a “thank you” gift for something big… not just “We’re glad you sat and talked to us for half an hour”!)

Kelli and I had been planning to have a “real” Italian dinner later this week, with garlic bread, olive oil for dipping, Caesar salad, and chicken pesto pasta. Well, now we’re having FRESH chicken in our pasta… and Kevyn’s joining us! The chicken, Roo, had a decent ride home in Pearl’s backseat; he was surprisingly calm and quiet, but his feet are tied together! We were afraid Hoosier might try to eat Roo before we got the chance to, so we sent him to stay across the street at the Waflers’ until Jesca finishes him off on Tuesday.

So, the morning turned out completely different from anything I could have planned… but isn’t that just the way God is? I can just hear Him saying, “You think you know… but you have no idea!”

Jesca

2009-08-27T07:56:00.000+03:00

It is extremely common here for people to have “house help.” The daily tasks of cooking and cleaning take 3 or 4 times as long, because there are no modern appliances and cooking is pretty much from scratch. And people here are in desperate need of jobs, so if you can afford to give someone work, even if it’s just a few days a week, it’s pretty much expected that you will help someone out in this way.

Jesca has worked for me and Kelli since we moved into our house in February. She is a precious woman who can make amazing chapattis (a tortilla-style flatbread) and French bread, washes our clothes by hand, and pretty much keeps our house from being covered in inches of dust and dirt. She also serves as my sous-chef and is a huge help to me in the kitchen! Jesca, like most people in Uganda, goes to church but is not a believer. She has been taught that as long as she goes to “prayers”, is baptized, takes communion, and lives a good life, she will go to heaven. The Catholic and Anglican churches have indoctrinated the people here in the gospel of salvation by works; Jesca doesn’t even know she’s lost!

Dirty Feet

2009-08-26T09:03:00.000+03:00

I had another “Oh, so THAT’S what He meant” moment today. (I really love those moments when they come, by the way. It’s like you get a glimpse into the mind of the Master—what a treat!) We had a long rainstorm this morning. It started out as a thunderstorm for an hour or two, and then switched over to a slow, steady rain for another 4 hours. It was cool and quiet and lazy, and I think everyone in Arua enjoyed the chance to sleep in.

Once the rain finally stopped, Kelli and I took our 7-year-old neighbor to lunch at the coffee shop in town. (Yes, we have a grand total of one coffee shop!) I was almost out of shillings, so I made a detour by the ATM while Kelli and Joanna went ahead and ordered. To get to the ATM, I had to walk around the corner, which had changed from a dirt lot into a mud pit after the morning’s rain.

As I walked through the muddy corner for the second time on the way back to the coffee shop, it dawned on me just how nasty my feet had gotten in all of 5 minutes. I was still clean, not dirty, not sweaty, I hadn’t even spilled anything on myself yet. (That came later in the day!) But my feet were in serious need of a soak!

At the beginning of Jesus’ last Passover meal, He washed His disciples’ feet. Peter didn’t understand what He was doing. (I think I relate to Peter more than any of the disciples—he’s just real!) Anyway… Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with Me.” “Then Lord,” Simon Peter replied, “not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!” Jesus answered, “A person who has had a bath needs only to wash his feet; his whole body is clean. And you are clean…” (John 13:8-10)

As a believer, I am clean. My sins have been washed away, and in Jesus’ eyes I will never look like I’ve been wallowing around in sin. He’s washed all that away; I’ve had my spiritual bath, and I am clean. But this world is, by nature, dirty. It is sinful. And because I’m in this world, living in it, walking around through the much and mud, my feet are going to get dirty. I’m going to sin, whether I mean to or not. As long as I’m left on this earth, my feet will, daily, get a coating of spiritual dust, dirt, and sometimes even mud. (And, if I’m being honest, there have been times when I was, spiritually speaking, standing knee-deep in a mud puddle and loving the feeling of mud between my toes… which is NOT okay!) But when I realize that my feet are dirty, I need to stop right then and there and ask Jesus to wash my feet again… before the grime gets so caked on it takes a rough scrubbing to get my little piggies clean again. As much attention as I pay to my physical feet (and oh, how I do love a good pedicure!), Jesus, please help me be more aware of just how clean (or dirty!) my spiritual feet have gotten.

My mom's coming!!!

2009-08-19T08:33:00.000+03:00

I am so excited I just about can't see straight! My mom is coming to Arua, and she'll be here in a month! Mom and I are really close, and I can't wait for her to see where I live and what I'm doing here. While she's here, she'll get to go to schools for ministry, a village church, we'll hang out in our (tiny) town, and go to the game park where hopefully we'll see lions. (Start praying now, please!!!) :D I just wanted to share... I get to see my mom!!! Woo hoo!

Hanging Out

2009-08-18T23:00:00.000+03:00

Secondary school students arrived home for holiday last week, and, like students everywhere, get bored on school break pretty quickly. So, last Thursday, Kelli and I, along with the help of Evan and Trevor, began opening our home for students to come, hang out, play volleyball, drink tea, and just be teenagers. Thursday, because of a horribly-timed rainstorm and commitments at home, only Richard and Thomas made it. But today, the weather was clear and warm (hot, really), and Evan and Trevor decided to pick up some of the students who live farther away. By the end of 3 hours, 10 students had come and visited, played volleyball, and shared a snack of tea and zucchini bread. We had a great time, even if it wasn’t the most inspired game of volleyball ever. Please pray that students would continue to come on Tuesdays and Thursdays between now and the beginning of September, that they would bring their friends who are also home on break, and that we would be able to build relationships that would eventually allow us to go to deeper levels.

SweeTarts

2009-08-18T08:25:00.000+03:00

I’m eating SweeTarts and thinking about home. SweeTarts were one of the (many) candies my grandmother always kept on hand. I had a craving for them a few weeks ago, who knows why, and Kelli’s mom and dad brought a few boxes out with them when they came to visit. Tonight I broke out the SweeTarts… and they immediately transported me back to Taylors, to my grandmother’s kitchen table where my cousins and I would sort packets out by color. SweeTarts also wound up in our movie snack packs, also known as plastic baggies full of candy we snuck into the movies to keep from buying popcorn. I know it's totally random, and one of those things that I never would have thought, "SweeTarts make me feel like I'm 7..." but turns out, they do! What is it about the little things that take you back to your childhood?

Arua Hospital

2009-08-10T17:29:00.000+03:00

A couple of weeks ago, Jesca, our house helper, was in a bicycle accident that put her in the hospital for 5 days. This gave Kelli and me our first opportunity to visit Arua Hospital, and I can honestly say that I was not prepared for what I would encounter.

I knew a little about the standard of care in local hospitals before we went. Supplies are extremely limited, so patients must bring their own bed sheets and latex gloves. There are no cooking or laundry facilities, so patients or their families must provide their own food and wash their own clothes and linens. I had visions of large rooms full of old-fashioned wrought iron beds—kind of like the massive hospital wards in the 1930s, 40s, and 50s in the States. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

From the outside, Arua Hospital reminds me of the Florida-style schools that are pretty common in South Carolina and much of the rest of the South. Each ward (surgical, medical, maternity, ENT, pediatric, etc.) is housed in its own building, and the buildings are all connected by covered walkways. The grassy courtyards in between the buildings are literally covered by family members and friends who have come to care for patients. Sitting in the grass, they cook over open fires, do laundry, and spend the time between visits. Patients who are feeling up to it can sit outside on the ground with their loved ones.

Going into the surgical ward where Jesca had been admitted (even though she never had surgery), beds were placed everywhere there was room. Jesca’s bed was in a hallway so dark I almost didn’t recognize her! We saw two nurses the entire time we were there, and that was only because Pam tracked one down so we could get some answers for Jesca about her treatment. As we were sitting on the bed, visiting with Jesca, Kelli felt something touching her ankle. She looked down and saw a hand; Jesca’s husband, Michael, had been sleeping on a mat under her bed!

As we spoke with Jesca, we got more information about her accident. On Sunday afternoon, she had been riding up a hill on her bicycle when she saw a man on another bicycle riding on the wrong side of the road, coming straight towards her. They had a head-on collision, and the other rider went into a coma. Jesca hit her head on rocks in the road and had a nasty scalp wound and serious muscle pain, but overall, she was in pretty good shape, considering how bad it could have been. When we visited her, the other rider was still in a coma.

We didn’t know Jesca had been injured until Tuesday, and had no idea how bad it was until Wednesday night. When we went to see her on Thursday, she had been given a total of 8 Tylenol since Sunday. No x-rays. No IV fluids for dehydration. No antibiotics or stronger painkillers for her head wound or whiplash. I was outraged and heartbroken for her.

When Pam hunted down a nurse to find out what was going on with Jesca’s care, we learned that she was ready to be discharged. (I still wonder how much of the timing had to do with the 3 white women who had just shown up to visit!) We were given a list of 3 medicines to buy at the chemist’s (for a total of $4), a date for her to return to see the doctor, and instructions for “physical therapy”: Move around and do what you normally do.

As we gathered Jesca’s belongings and left to take her and Michael to their village on the other side of town, I wanted to weep. This kind of care is not okay. Jesca deserves better than this. Her son deserves better. People deserve better.

I know that I will never have to depend on this kind of medical care. I can always go to Kampala. If a situation is bad enough, I can be airlifted to Nairobi, or Johannesburg, or even back to the States. But most of the people I’m around don’t have that luxury. If they want medical treatment, Arua Hospital is their only choice. It’s wrong, and it’s heartbreaking, but that’s all there is.

Planet Earth

2009-08-09T17:23:00.000+03:00

I have to admit it: I’m a nerd. A big nerd. I love to read. (I’m amazingly grateful for the blessing that my Kindle has been in Africa, by the way!) I can kill hours on crossword puzzles and Solitaire. I’m a Food Network junkie, and I’ve been in serious Alton Brown withdrawal since January. I like, really like Jane Austen and Charles Dickens. I watched Gandhi a couple of weeks ago, all by myself. I love learning. I want to understand. I need to know.

Somehow, I didn’t watch Planet Earth when it aired on TV a few years ago. I don’t know how I missed it. (Maybe my bottom-of-the-line satellite package didn’t carry the right channel? I’m a nerd, but I’m a cheap nerd!) Anyway, somehow I missed it. I remember seeing clips in commercial and thinking that the shots were amazing, and being jealous that I couldn’t justify showing it to my English classes the way the science teachers did. But I never got around to watching it.

Last week I was snooping through my supervisor’s DVD collection, trying to find something new to watch, and what did I find but Planet Earth! Because, as earlier established, I am a big nerd, I borrowed the entire series. My roommate, who is not as big a nerd as I am, had no desire to join me, so Planet Earth has become my “filler” to have on while I’m cooking, folding laundry, straightening my bedroom, or, in a testament to overwhelming nerd-dom, while playing Spider Solitaire.

Over and over again, I am struck by just how magnificent this world is… and by how intentional the Creator was when He designed it. There are caves deeper than some of the biggest buildings man has made. The ecosystems around the world, even though they’re so vastly different, are perfectly in balance. The tallest mountains in the world, so tall that birds can’t fly over them, are placed in a location where winds passing over them will create the needed rains in Southeast Asia. And our planet itself is positioned at such a place in the universe where we won’t burn up from being too close to the sun, but we won’t freeze because we’re too far away.

How good He is to be so in the details of this world. There are still plants and animals that we don’t even know about; there are places in this world that we’ve just discovered. He made them all, just because He could, and just because He wanted us to enjoy them and understand just how good and great He is. I am in awe of the Creator, because of what He has created!

4 “Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell Me, if you know so much.

5 Who determined its dimensions and stretched out the surveying line? 6 What supports its foundations, and who laid its cornerstone

7 as the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy?

8 Who kept the sea inside its boundaries as it burst from the womb,

9 and as I clothed it with clouds and wrapped it in thick darkness?

10 For I locked it behind barred gates, limiting its shores.

11 I said, ‘This far and no farther will you come. Here your proud waves must stop!”…

22 “Have you visited the storehouses of the snow or seen the storehouses of hail?

23 (I have reserved them as weapons for the time of trouble, for the day of battle and war.)

24 Where is the path to the source of light? Where is the home of the east wind?

25 “Who created a channel for the torrents of rain? Who laid out a path for the lightning?

26 Who makes the rain fall on barren land, in a desert where no one lives?

27 Who sends rain to satisfy the parched ground and make the tender grass spring up?

28 Does the rain have a father? Who gives birth to the dew?

29 Who is mother of the ice? Who gives birth to the frost from the heavens?

30 for the water turns to ice as hard as rock, and the surface of the water freezes.

31 Can you direct the movement of the stars—binding the cluster of the Pleiades or loosening the cords of Orion?

32 Can you direct the sequence of the seasons or guide the Bear with her cubs across the heavens?

33 Do you know the laws of the universe? Can you use them to regulate the earth?

34 Can you shout to the clouds and make it rain?

35 Can you make lightning appear and cause it to strike as you direct?

36 Who gives instruction to the heart and instinct to the mind?

37 Who is wise enough to count all the clouds? Who can tilt the water jars of heaven

38 when the parched ground is dry and the soil has hardened into clods?

39 Can you stalk prey for a lioness and satisfy the young lions’ appetites

40 as they lie in their dens or crouch in the thicket?

41 Who provides food for the ravens when their young cry out to God and wander about in hunger?

Job 38:4-11, 22-41

Slack Blogger

2009-08-09T08:11:00.000+03:00

I confess… I am a slack blogger. I realized this morning that it’s been 3 weeks since I posted last. NOT okay! I could make the typical excuses: African internet is crazy slow; work has been ridiculously busy; Kelli’s parents were here for 2 weeks and life just went a little nuts for a while. But, if I’m being honest, the truth is that I just haven’t written. I’ve got blogs all ready in my head, but I just haven’t written them down. I am slack. I plan to remedy this VERY soon… assuming I don’t lose my motivation!

40/40 pictures

2009-07-17T23:06:00.000+03:00

These are random pictures from my time at 40/40. I posted some pictures pertaining to specific posts beginning with the post dated April 25th and onward. Hope this gives you a glimpse of what my time was like!

Sunset in Lusaka

Mt. Kilimanjaro from the plane window

Sunset in Lusaka

Oxcart

Sunset in Petauke

chopping greens the village way

washing dishes in the courtyard

shelling groundnuts (aka peanuts)

Making peanut butter with a huge mortar

Meet Godfrey

2009-07-16T08:07:00.000+03:00

Godfrey is one of our watchmen. He is 25 years old, speaks at least 8 languages, and helps to pastor a Swahili Presbyterian church that meets on his property. He is also our personal car wash, lemon picker, and general handyman around the house.

But as amazing a young man as Godfrey is, he didn’t start out that way. By the time he was 12 years old, his father had died, his mother couldn’t support him, and he was living on the streets. He begged, worked odd jobs, and fought to make ends meet. He snuck into classes at local schools so he could continue the education he so valued. Before his 15th birthday, Godfrey was known as a street fighter and drug user.

Through a series of “coincidences,” Godfrey met a man who invited him into his home and agreed to provide housing, food, and school fees in exchange for work around his home. Godfrey, who wanted to “make his fortune” with music, was intrigued by the man’s guitar and asked him to teach him to play. Over time, Godfrey heard the man’s story and learned that he was a follower of Jesus. Godfrey chose to follow Christ as well. And since then, over the past ten years, our gracious Father has turned his life around. He completed secondary school, as well as seminary. He returned to his father’s land, began providing for his mother and sisters, and felt led to start a church under one of his trees.

That isn’t to say that Godfrey’s life has been perfect. He is poor and lives in Africa. He is in the process of building a one-room home for himself on his land so he can eventually marry. His Muslim neighbors are not happy about the fellowship of Christ-followers that meet there, not far from a mosque, and have caused many problems. His bicycle was stolen from our compound while he was at work back in April. And just recently, he suffered a bad wound on his foot when several panes of glass fell as he was cleaning his home. But Godfrey knows where his hope lies. He knows that his faith is in the Eternal One, the One who does not change, even when our circumstances do. He is an encouragement to my faith.

Death by Liturgy

2009-07-13T08:03:00.000+03:00

Because of the spiritual landscape of Arua, there is a major shortage of Baptist churches in and around our area. Most of the students that we work with in schools attend Anglican “Church of Uganda” congregations. Because of these and several other cultural and scheduling factors, Kelli and I often attend an Anglican church near our home as well.

I have always struggled with the idea of following tradition for tradition’s sake. “It’s the way it’s always been done” isn’t a good reason for me to do something. But, in recent years, I have been reintroduced to the Truth and spiritual meat that so much of our liturgy, hymns, and tradition are full of. And somehow these ancient truths and songs encourage and energize my faith. I have learned how not to mindlessly recite the words or sing the songs, but to consciously worship through the hymns and prayers of years past. I love the legacy of faith that is captured in the liturgy.

But as I have transitioned to liturgical worship, and in an African context at that, I have found that this is not generally the case. The congregation at St. Phillip’s Church monotonely mutters the Lord’s Prayer or the Apostle’s Creed to the point that it is unrecognizable. They recite words in English that they don’t even know the meaning of. “Christians” blindly accept the words of priests, church elders, and religious teachers as spiritual truth, whether there is any Biblical basis for it or not. And when they leave the church after worship on Sunday, they don’t give God another thought until they return the next week.

Don’t get me wrong—there are born-again believers in the Church of Uganda. But there are also multitudes of people who, just like in the States, go to church on Sunday because that’s what “good people” do, and never give a thought to their need of a personal Savior. They never think about the songs they are singing or the prayers they are reciting. As they, in all honesty, worship the liturgy meant to draw us into worship of the Holy One, their souls are slowly dying. And it just reminds me- again- that we really aren’t all that different from the Africans after all.

Who Took My Shoes???

2009-06-27T17:12:00.000+03:00

I can’t believe I haven’t written about this… but at the time it happened, we were traumatized, and in the middle of getting ready to leave the country for a month, and life is just beginning to settle down from all of that… I’m so sorry for being delinquent in sharing my life with you!

Kelli and I thought we lived in a relatively safe neighborhood. There had been a few security concerns in the area, but between the 10-foot wall around our compound and the watchmen who work for us during the weekdays and every night, we thought we were okay. We were wrong. On a Sunday morning in April, we got up early and got ready to go to the 7:30 service at a local church. Now, normally, we took our shoes or sandals off at the front door to keep from tracking sand and dirt into the house, and sometimes a stack of shoes would pile up. We got ready to leave and went out to put our shoes on, and they were gone. Like, 10 pairs! It was still early in the morning, and our brains weren’t quite functioning yet, so we checked inside and on the back porch to see if we had put them somewhere else, but they were nowhere to be found. About this time, Godfrey, our watchman, approached us and said there had been a disturbance in the night. Some thieves had entered the compound over a low point in the wall, had distracted him at the back wall, and had made off with his bicycle, our volleyball net, and all our shoes!

Now, I would like to say that I’m not materialistic. I would like to say that things are just things, and in the back of my head, I know they are. But I like nice things. I can make do if I have to, but I like nice things if they’re available. And seriously, messing with a girl’s shoes? That’s just WRONG!

If you, like my mother, grandmother, and sister, are worried about my safety (or sanity), let me fill you in on the rest of the story…

We spent most of Sunday making police reports, meeting with the captain of the army outpost in the area, and talking to leadership from our organization about what had happened. On Tuesday, we left Arua for our 40/40 training in Zambia for a month. When we returned at the end of May, razor wire was being added to the top of our wall for additional security, we had inherited 2 German Shepherds, Annie and Hoosier, from another missionary family who was leaving Uganda, and Godfrey’s bicycle had been replaced by a Good Samaritan from the States. And we had a couple of care packages of flip flops waiting for us when we returned as well! Thanks, Mom!

Coffee Shop

2009-06-25T13:18:00.001+03:00

Living out as far as I do, you don’t get many opportunities for spontaneity. I mean, things come up that you never expected, but it’s usually something that somehow adds more stress to your life, rarely the, “Ooh, why don’t we go bowling tonight” kind of things that are just fun. We have a grand total of 5 restaurants in our town, and 3 are in “hotels”, or the closest thing to that we have. It’s not really safe to be out after dark, so your choices for evening entertainment are whatever DVDs you brought with you (or the pirated copies you buy from the “supermarket”), playing a game with friends who may live in the neighborhood, or reading a book. Needless to say, my bedtime has gotten a LOT earlier!

But yesterday we got a real chance to be spontaneous. Kelli and I had gone to a friend’s home to meet some visitors and eat homemade pizza and ice cream (a treat in itself!) and were riding home with Billy and Joanna and their two little girls, Elsie and Lucy. Someone mentioned the new coffee shop that opened in town recently, Africa by Boat. (I’m still not sure how you reach our land-locked corner of Africa by boat, but I’m going to ask around…) Billy suggested that we try it out, so we made a detour through town. As we got out of the car, we realized that all three of us ladies were wearing trousers in town… and felt really uncomfortable. (We had been with all Westerners all afternoon, so trousers were completely fine… until we decided to be spontaneous. Oops!) We walked up to the coffee shop on the second floor of a storefront and were greeted by Zora, the owner of Africa by Boat. She brought us chairs to sit on the balcony overlooking the street. The menus haven’t been printed yet, but she told us our choices were black coffee, white coffee, tea, or bottled water. Okay, so no caramel macchiato or chocolate chip frappuccino for us… but we really enjoyed our baby-thermoses full of white coffee (coffee with LOTS of milk and a spice blend). Maybe Zora’s got some work to do before she can compete with Starbucks or Liquid Highway, but hey, I’m glad just to have somewhere to go and drink coffee. Oh, happy day! :D

Change of field

2009-06-18T13:16:00.000+03:00

Living in Africa is difficult. It is exhausting. Sometimes a two-year term seems like an eternity. Staying here for 15 or 20 years is no small accomplishment. But Dan and Peg R. have served the Lord in Tanzania for 32 years. They have shared the Gospel, discipled new believers, supported personnel in the field, and taught new missionaries how to survive in the African wild. Dan set up all the tents and created the bucket showers for 40/40 bush camp, and Peg showed me how to kill a chicken. (I hope not to need that knowledge any time soon!)

Dan and Peg are retiring after working in Tanzania for as long as I’ve been alive. After walking untold miles, hosting countless guests, and mentoring so many of us, they’re going home to be grandparents and to rest. But they’re not stopping. Last week, Dan was sharing his plan for retirement. Being a big-game hunter, he wants to go to rifle-shooting competitions and tell people about Jesus. He wants to be a WalMart greeter and tell people about Jesus. He wants to hang out in breakfast restaurants, drink coffee with people, and tell people about Jesus. This man has a passion for the lost, whether they’re in Africa or America. The primary purpose of Dan and Peg’s life has been to share Jesus, wherever they are. Even though Dan and Peg are retiring, they are still missionaries. They’re just getting a change of field.

Spring Pictures

2009-06-16T21:07:00.000+03:00

Sorry these aren't getting out until the U.S. summer is about to begin! Better late than never I suppose!
We had a Easter sunrise service at our friends Joanna and Billy's house. The service was open to Africans and Westerners and we had about 40 people there in all.

My roomate and ministry partner, Kelly, in our African-made dresses

After the service we had a potluck breakfast. That's Trevor eating breakfast with their watchmen David and Joel.

The Arua team

Kelly, Joanna, and myself

This is Joshua, 4. He's the mayor of Arua's son. He reminds me of my nephew Zeke!

Yes, its a turkey! Evan and Trevor have built some really strong relationships with Lamech, who owns one of the grocery stores in town, and also with some of the other guys who work for him. The week before Easter, Lamech told Evan to come by the store Easter day because he wanted to give him a turkey...so that's Mr. Gobbles. He's pretty scrawny now, but they're planning on fattening him up a bit before they feast. I told them it's not a good idea to name food, but they didn't listen. (By the way, in Lugbara "turkey" is "kulukulu"-the sound it makes!) story group from Latibo Secondary

Latibo Secondary Girls' dorm at Latibo

Give to Lottie!!!

2009-06-10T22:41:00.000+03:00

I wish believers in the States could have sat in the meeting I was in this morning. The economic crisis in America is having an impact on the International Mission Board in a major way. IMB personnel are very blessed to be supported by churches and American believers, and I am very grateful to be provided for in the way that I am. I don’t have to worry about whether or not I can stay on the field because my supporters haven’t sent money this month, or might not send it next month. I am very well taken care of.

The IMB is funded primarily by gifts. The vast majority of the money that pays my bills, and those of 5600 others worldwide, comes from you. Gifts to the IMB, most importantly through the Lottie Moon Offering, are significantly down. Gifts to Lottie in 2008 were $13 million less than expected, and things haven’t gotten better in 2009. The IMB is committed to operating within what God provides through the gifts of believers. There are currently just over 5600 IMB missionaries in the field; our budget is expected to cover expenses for 5000 personnel, at best. For now, the board of trustees plans not to cut personnel already in the field, but to severely limit new missionary appointments.

For now, each affinity group (there are 9 in the world) has a total of 15 career, or long-term personnel, jobs available to be filled and 15 Journeyman jobs. The Masters and ISC programs, of which I am a part, are suspended for new personnel. As short-term missionaries like me end their terms of service, we will not be replaced. The number of personnel in the field will be reduced, and the impact on lostness worldwide will be affected.

Those of us in the field are very concerned about the future of the IMB and its work. There are still many people groups throughout the world, many in Sub-Saharan Africa, who are completely unreached and unengaged by the Gospel. If the presence of believers sharing the Word is reduced, how will they hear? This financial state is critical. I know that the economic state of affairs in the US is not good, but people still eat out. People still go to movies. What is more important: your entertainment and comfort, or someone’s eternal salvation? I urge you, I beg you, please give to Lottie. Please designate gifts to the IMB. You can give designated funds to any Southern Baptist church, or by going online to Give Now. Your action, or inaction, will have eternal consequences.

AGM

2009-06-09T22:15:00.000+03:00

You may know that a key part of my call to the mission field was working as a volunteer for the South Asia Annual General Meeting (AGM) in Chiang Mai, Thailand. AGM is a week-long conference for all the field personnel in a given area. It is a chance for missionaries to come together for business meetings, for health checks, to fellowship with members of the mission family, and to worship and be fed in our heart language, for a change.

For three summers, I worked with the youth camp for the South Asia MKs during AGM. During my time with the South Asian missionaries, I was able to get to know field personnel at a new level. They became my friends and mentors. They taught me that missionaries really are just real people. In the middle of my second trip to AGM, I began to hear God saying that overseas missions wouldn’t be a vacation, volunteer thing for me anymore, but that this was going to be life for me for a while.

My first AGM as a missionary started yesterday. I’ve been to AGM before, but I’ve always been working, volunteering, supporting the missionaries who come to this week for much-needed rest and refreshment. This time, though, it’s for me. I’m one of the many who are tired. Who need to rest. Who need to hear English spoken without an accent. Who need to just be for a week.

It is sweet to be on this side of AGM. It is sweet to see how God brought me from volunteering in VBS, in schools, and in medical clinics ministering to nationals to serving field personnel, to being one of those personnel. And I can’t explain it; I can’t really even put words to it. But it’s amazing to be in this place, to hear God say, “I told you… I brought you here. I am on this journey with you. And I’m glad you’ve joined Me in this place.”

Things I’ve Learned at 40/40

2009-05-24T07:27:00.000+03:00

• Fitted sheets are a luxury.
• “Nshima” is the Chinyanja word for “intestinal cork.”
• Even if you stop drinking water at 7 pm, you’ll still have to pee in the middle of the night.
• NEVER look down the pit latrine.
• I am capable of much more than I thought, as long as I don’t try to do it in my own strength.
• It’s possible to cook excellent meals over wood fires.
• There is no reason for anyone to chop wood at 4:30 in the morning.
• It gets really cold in Africa.
• A 45-minute walk to the village to talk to people is definitely worth it.
• A good shower uses 5 gallons of water.
• It takes 58 hand pumps at the well to draw 5 gallons of water.
• By the time you walk back to your tent from your shower, your feet will be dirty again.
• A 70-year old woman with arthritis can shell an ear of maize in ¼ the time it takes me.
• The things I am most afraid of are never really as bad as I expect.
• Headlamps are a brilliant invention.
• MKs aren’t afraid to eat meat cooked on a shovel.
• A bouncy ball provides hours of entertainment.
• There’s no better sound than a bunch of African kids singing at the top of their lungs.
• An old woman can stand up in church and start singing with the choir- and no one will bat an eye.
• Whatever you chase out of the latrine at night is definitely more scared of you.
• At night, you can see the Southern Cross, the Pointer Stars, satellites, shooting stars galore, and the Milky Way… and you understand what God meant about Abraham’s children outnumbering the stars.
• It really is easier to carry things on your head.
• Rural Africans are some of the kindest people on the planet.
• It’s possible to make peanut butter by hand… assuming your muscles don’t give out.
• African women do things American women would never dream of doing.
• If you take Ambien and use earplugs, you won’t know- or care- that roaches are climbing all over your mosquito net.
• I will never take a shower or a flush toilet for granted again.

40/40 Day 30- The Easy Life

2009-05-22T07:25:00.000+03:00

I guess our leadership figures that it’s hard enough living in the African bush for more than two weeks, because when we left Petauke, we moved from rural Africa to central Florida. I say we earned it!

Ibis Gardens is a resort about an hour from Lusaka. In the three days that we’ve been here, I’ve walked on grass for the first time since I’ve been in Africa. I’ve had carpet in my bedroom, which I have all to myself, and a big bed. (Okay, so it’s a ¾ size, but that’s still bigger than I’m used to!) I’ve had nice, hot showers in the mornings, sat by the pool in the afternoons, and had 3 full meals (and then some) every day—with no nshima on my plate! Life has been good.

I was leaving my room (complete with the luxury of a flush toilet) to walk to the breakfast I didn’t have to make this morning, and it dawned on me: it doesn’t matter how long I stay in Africa, whether it’s 2 years or twenty. I don’t have to stay. And when it comes time for me to leave, I get to go back to America and the easy life that is so taken for granted.

For the most part, the people I’m working with, whether they live in Petauke, Lusaka, Nairobi, Kampala, or Arua, don’t get to leave. Their bush camp doesn’t just last for 2 weeks. They don’t just spend 3 days in their mud hut and then move on. This life, for them, doesn’t end.

I can truly say that I respect Africans more than I ever expected to, because the primitive life I’ve experienced in the past few weeks isn’t just an experience for them. It’s day-in and day-out, non-stop life.

In the past few weeks, I’ve found that I am much stronger than I realized. But the Africans are even stronger. I can always go home… and someday, I will. But for them, they already are home.

40/40 Day 29- Daring Dependence

2009-05-21T07:23:00.000+03:00

I am 31 years old (at least for 2½ more weeks!) and single. I have held a job for over half my life. I have lived on my own, by myself, for 7 years (until last year, at least). I have always been strong-willed and independent. And I don’t think this is necessarily a bad thing.

But because I am independent by nature, it is very difficult for me to step back and let others do. It is difficult for me to allow myself to be needy. I’m so used to being the capable, confident one that when I’m not, it sort of shakes my identity. So for me to spend more than two weeks living in very primitive conditions, being so far away from where I’m comfortable and confident was tough. Wait, “tough” is an understatement. It was downright impossible.

But what I found during my time in the “wilderness” is that I needed to be uncomfortable. I needed to question myself. I needed to be forced to do things I knew I couldn’t. I needed to be pushed into tasks and situations where I was incapable, because in my inability, I saw just how big and faithful God is. Over the past 15 days, I have had to depend on God in ways I never had before, because I knew that I couldn’t make it on my own. I knew that, in my own strength, I was not strong enough. And I found amazing strength and freedom in being able to depend on God. I saw that I didn’t have to fear the next step in front of me or wonder how I would be able to do it; I could trust God for the grace and the ability to do whatever it was.

And I found that, when I dared to depend on Him, and not myself, I didn’t have to stress or worry. I knew that He would get me through it, whether it was sleeping with roaches, eating lots of nshima, or using the squatty potty over and over and over. And that is a great place to live.

“…Apart from Me, you can do nothing.” (John 15:5)

40/40 Day 27- Hope for Africa

2009-05-19T07:21:00.000+03:00

AIDS has decimated Africa. Everyone has been touched by the epidemic in some way, and some people’s lives have been drastically changed. Some grandparents and great-grandparents who should be resting and enjoying the last few years of their lives are now raising a second or third generation of children. Mothers are trying to find ways to support their families on their own. Children have to grow up and become responsible for themselves, and possibly younger brothers and sisters, long before they should.

I spent the last 3 days living with Greyson and Rachel Mwanza, a Zambian couple. They have been married for 24 years and have 6 children; the oldest is 22, and the youngest is 6. The children are all well and healthy, and doing well in school. Greyson serves as a deacon at their local church. He and Rachel farm a few acres about a 30-minute walk away from their homestead; they grow sweet potatoes, groundnuts, sunflowers, tomatoes, and maize, among other things. Rachel may very well be the hardest-working woman in Africa; I don’t think she stopped moving during our entire stay at their home.

It didn’t dawn on me until after we left this morning that there is a reason the Mwanza family is so healthy and intact. Even though they were very stoic and disciplined their children sometimes harshly, you can watch them and tell how much Greyson and Rachel love their children. You can tell this is a couple who are devoted to one another. Their faith is deep and genuine. They are close to their children, even the ones who are grown.

I’m sure Greyson and Rachel have been affected by AIDS in some way. I’m sure they know people who have been infected, and are concerned for their children in the future. But the Mwanza family does not carry the scars of AIDS that most families in Africa do.

In the face of the AIDS crisis, the hope for Africa is Jesus. Greyson and Rachel are proof that faithful marriages can work in Africa. That if people hear and believe the Gospel and experience the life-change it can bring, entire families can be saved. Even in the middle of hunger, pain, illness and death, there is hope for Africa. There is hope for Asia, and Europe, and even America. The only hope for any of us is Jesus.

40/40 Day 26- Stars

2009-05-18T07:20:00.000+03:00

When we were at bush camp, I was amazed by how well we could see the stars I’ve never been so far way from light pollution and civilization. There were honestly too many stars to count. For the first time in my life, it made sense to me about God telling Abraham that his descendants would outnumber the stars.

But once we came out to the village, it seems like the stars have multiplied again. It’s unbelievable just what you can see out here. You can watch satellites moving across the sky, and you can actually see the whole Milky Way stretching from one side of the sky to the other.

Shanna, Emily, and I did some stargazing after our bedtime trip to the squatty potty. (We go together for moral support!) Emily reminded me that the Milky Way is actually millions of stars that are so far away that they just look like a band of fog. And there, in the middle of it, is the Southern Cross. (How like the Father to design the entire Universe around the Cross!) But what is even more amazing is that my God not only made all these stars, just by speaking. He placed each one in its specific place and gave it a name. He knows them all.

Not only does He know all the stars, He knows each one of the people He has created. He knows the very number of hairs on our heads. (And, if you shed like I do, that number is constantly changing!) He has a place and a purpose for each of us, and He has given us each a name of our very own. It’s days like today that I am blown away by how big He is. God is so big, so powerful… and yet, He knows me. He loves me. The Maker of the stars loves me. That just might be the most amazing thing of all.

“To whom will you compare Me? Or who is My equal?” says the Holy One. Lift your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He who brings out the starry host one by one, and calls them each by name. Because of His great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing. (Isaiah 40:25-26)

40/40 Day 26- New Names

2009-05-18T07:18:00.000+03:00

Through the past couple of days during our homestay, I noticed some odd looks whenever I introduced myself. Yesterday, I found out why. Greyson told me that “Alissa” (pronounced ah-LEE-sah in African English) is a male name in Zambia—everyone was wondering why I had a man’s name!

As I was talking to a group of kids, one girl said her name was Ruth, and I told her that it was my name, too. Rachel, Greyson’s wife, understood the whole mzungu-multiple name thing, and decided that I should go by “Ruthie” for the rest of my stay in Petauke. My grandmother must be so proud!

Tonight all the Journey girls from the next house came over with some of the boys who live on the homestead where they stayed. We sat in the visiting hut and listened to one of the boys tell stories that were absolutely hilarious. We had such a good time! When the stories were finished, the boys decided to ask us riddles. Each person who answered a riddle would receive a new Chinyanja name. It was so much fun to watch these 8 teenage boys deliberate over what each of our new names should be. They decided I should be called Cikondi (chee-KOHN-dee) which means Love.

If anyone has ideas for what my 4th identity should be, just let me know!

40/40 Day 26- Village Life

2009-05-18T07:15:00.001+03:00

It’s Day 3 of my homestay in Petauke, Zambia. I am sitting between 3 mud huts, just thinking about what a precious gift I have been given.

How many people have the chance to not only go into an African village and see what it’s like, but to really live there for 3 days? To experience sleeping in a mud hut? To work in the field harvesting groundnuts and beating out sunflower seeds? To draw water from a crank bucket well and carry it home on your head? To sit and eat and talk and just share life with an African family?

I can’t say that I have enjoyed every moment of my homestay. It has been difficult. It has been dirty. I have eaten more than I thought humanly possible—and of things that I really don’t like. There have been moments when I wanted to run away back to “civilized” life. I am definitely ready to go home.

But I have surely been blessed by my days in the village. May I never forget what I have learned in Greyson and Rachel’s home.

40/40 Day 24- Happy Place

2009-05-16T07:13:00.000+03:00

According to Kevin Rodgers, I am in my “happy place.” I’m lying on a foam mattress on the floor of a mud hut in Zambia. I’m draped in mosquito netting, which will hopefully keep away any creatures. My headlamp is hanging from the top of my net, in hopes that the light will also drive away any rodents.

I’ve eaten a butter sandwich, two plates of nshima with beef and greens, and a huge bowl of rice. I shelled beans and maize, and pounded groundnuts with women from the village. I played catch and soccer and sand at the top of my lungs with neighborhood kids. I’ve taken more pictures than I can count.

I’m here for two more days. Sometimes I think, “What the heck am I doing here?” Other times I think, “Why on earth would I ever want to leave?”

40/40 Day 22- Violet

2009-05-14T07:07:00.000+03:00

“…My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly in my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.
-2 Corinthians 12:9

I almost didn’t go out today. After breakfast I wasn’t feeling well at all, and the thought of walking 45 minutes out to a village, only to get stuck with “tummy bad luck,” as my sister calls it, was not at all appealing. But our DFA today was to share our testimonies, and I knew that Satan didn’t want me to go. So I sucked it up… and said I might turn back if I didn’t start feeling better.

I shared with the first woman we met. She was a Jehovah’s Witness, and seemed really confused about who Jesus was and how someone could be saved. At the next home, we met with a young girl who didn’t understand that going to church didn’t mean she was born again. We spoke with her for a while, but she just didn’t “get” it.
Pray that the Spirit continues to speak to both of these women’s hearts and draw them to Himself.

At the last home, we met Violet. She is a young mother with 3 children, one of whom was terrified of the mzungus. We sat on the ground shelling groundnuts with Violet, just getting to know her. The more we talked with her, the more clear it became that she didn’t know Jesus. But I had absolutely no idea how to turn the conversation. Before long, our attention was drawn to the young girl who stays with Violet and her husband. We discovered that she was a niece who was orphaned when she was 4 years old, and has been living with them for almost ten years. I saw God opening a door, and asked Violet if she was afraid of death; she said of course she was. I began to share the Gospel with her, explaining that she didn’t need to fear life or death, but that Jesus could meet all her needs, both in life and in death. When I finished the Story, she said wanted to ask for salvation, but didn’t know how to pray. I was able to lead Violet in the prayer of salvation, and Victoria, our helper, is connecting her with local women to help her grow in her new faith.

God is so good. As we returned to camp from the village, I was reminded that I almost didn’t go out today. I was physically at the lowest point I’ve been since we came to bush camp. But God wanted me to walk in obedience. Today wasn’t the first time I’ve shared the Gospel. And it definitely wasn’t the best presentation I’ve made. Yet God made it abundantly clear, again, that it’s not about what I do or what I say. I could make a terrible mess of the whole thing, and God still do an amazing work in someone’s life. He can draw hearts to Himself, no matter what I say. And He does. It’s just one more way He is so amazing, one more reason why I love Him so much. He doesn’t need me, but He chooses to use me.

And to think I actually wanted to go back to bed!!!

40/40 Day 21- Village People

2009-05-13T07:11:00.000+03:00

We’ve been in the villages around Petauke for two days now. I am astounded at the people who live there. They have been far more willing to sit and just talk with us. I’ve sat on grass mats, opened groundnuts, and shelled maize. I’ve talked to a father with malaria, a great-grandmother raising 5 children, and a village headman. One young woman had married and had her first child by the time she was 12. Most of the people I’ve spoken with have not had a good harvest and aren’t sure how they will feed their families for the year. And yet they have opened their homes. They have offered food they didn’t have. They have sent me home with groundnuts. They have loved me, just because I came to visit. I love village people.

40/40 Day 18- Rainy Day Drive

2009-05-10T08:04:00.000+03:00

As we were preparing to come to 40/40, our leaders told us the weather would be comfortable- 70s and 80s- and dry. “It never rains in Zambia in May,” they promised.

It has rained every day since we came to bush camp. Usually, the showers haven’t lasted more than a few minutes, just long enough to cool off a hot day. But today, as we were sitting in the back of the flatbed truck waiting for the last group to arrive from their DFA, it started raining. Hard.

I don’t know if you’ve ever ridden in the back of a truck going 40 miles an hour in the driving rain, but if you haven’t, I wouldn’t recommend it.

Flatbed truck to drive you 6 km to Petauke $16
Fritters for 3 from the market $ 0.17
Airtime to call home on Mother’s Day $ 2
Getting stung in the face by raindrops with 60
of your closest friends Priceless

40/40 Day 18- Witch Doctor

2009-05-10T07:53:00.000+03:00

Maria

Most days while we are in Zambia for 40/40, we have a “Daily Field Assignment,” or DFA. The purpose of DFAs is for us to observe African life and to learn how to learn the culture of wherever it is that we’re living and serving—because Zambia is very different from Uganda, which is different from Kenya, which is different from Botswana. Each DFA has a different focus, whether it is community needs, family life, attending a typical church service, or investigating the available health care. Because traditional healers and ancestor and spirit worship are such a key part of African life, our DFA for today was to investigate traditional medicine—namely, witch doctors.

The witch doctor we met with was named Maria. Her sisters and other women in her family were witch doctors before her. When she was 25, she began to have dreams in which ancestors would come to her and show her which herbs she should use to heal certain diseases. She can also use herbs and the spirits’ help to heal someone who has been bewitched, or to bring revenge on someone.

When our helpers first introduced us to Maria, they told her we were missionaries from America who had come to Zambia to learn about African culture. (There were about 15 mzungus, plus our 7 or 8 Zambian helpers; by the end of our time with Maria, we had drawn a crowd of 50 or more locals!) Because she knew we were Christian missionaries, it seemed like she was trying to tell us what she thought we wanted to hear. She said she prayed over the herbs in the name of Jesus, and that He was the Son of God. But she also said that her power and knowledge came from the spirits. (Even the demons believe… and shudder!” James 2:19)

From the beginning of our time with Maria, my spirit felt uneasy. There was a strange look to her eyes. And I felt like she weighed her words very carefully. Before we left camp, we had been reminded that the person we were meeting with was not our enemy, but a lost person who Jesus loves and died for, and who is being used and deceived by the father of lies… “for our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but… against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” (Ephesians 6:12)

The bottom line is that those “spirits” that guide Maria are demons. She is controlled by them, even in her sleep. And Satan is using Maria to deceive people around her, to steal them away, to kill them, to destroy them. I don’t know what to make of the crowd we drew. The nationals paid no attention to the 15 mzungus, but hung on Maria’s every word. She has power and influence in this community, and Satan is definitely using it to his advantage. But we know that “the One who is in [us] is greater than the one who is in the world.” (1 John 4:4) Pray that Maria and the people around her would come to see that true healing, both physical and spiritual, comes only in the redeeming power of the blood of Jesus Christ, the perfect atoning sacrifice for our sins.

40/40 Day 17- Visiting Jane

2009-05-09T07:49:00.001+03:00

Jane

Eighty thousand people live in the town of Petauke. At least seven thousand of them have HIV/AIDS.

Today our helper, Victoria, took Kelli and me around a neighborhood in Petauke. We went to a home with the most beautiful yard I’ve seen in Africa. There was a big shade tree surrounded by beautiful emerald-green grass, huge flowering bushes everywhere, and thriving potted plants taking up every inch of available space. The house itself was completely typical: mud brick and concrete, peeling paint, crowded with too-big furniture, but you could tell that the owner took pride in her home and wanted it to be as nice as possible.

Within a few moments, we met Jane, the owner/gardener. As we sat with Jane, I was able to piece together her story. Her only daughter is 19 years old and recently finished high school. She is a very active member in her local church. Her husband died in 2002, after being ill for 6 months. He was HIV+, and she and her daughter have since both tested positive as well. They have both been healthy for the past six years, but you can tell that Jane is embarrassed by her status; she won’t say in so many words that she has HIV, but will only talk about being tested and registering for assistance. She says that right now she’s “just okay.”

Jane’s husband had bought and paid for their home before he died, so she and her daughter have somewhere to live, but jobs are scarce in Petauke. She rents a small booth in the market to a merchant for a meager monthly income, but her days are empty. When I asked Jane what needs she saw in Petauke, she most wanted a support group for widows with HIV—to encourage them, to give them skills so they can support themselves and their families. We prayed together, and my heart just broke for Jane… and the many women like her.

As we left, I again complimented the garden that Jane obviously loves and cares for so much. As I spoke, she began to beam, and I got a glimpse of the beautiful woman she once was, before life became so hard.

A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows is God in His holy dwelling. (Psalm 68:5)

40/40 Day 15- Circle of Life

2009-05-07T07:47:00.000+03:00

(At the risk of referencing The Lion King yet again—but I do live in Africa—and it’s so true!!!)

Ebby, our African cultural guru, made the statement yesterday, and it’s stayed with me ever since. Life in Africa happens in a circle. Houses are circular. Villages are circular… usually with water at the center. Townships are circular, government in the middle, surrounded by shops and markets, with farms branching out around the edges. Meetings are always conducted with people sitting in a circle. Even relationships in Africa are circular. Everyone in the community works together, raising children, sharing resources, looking out for those in need. There is very little private property; even children belong to the entire family, not just the parents. Everyone and everything is connected.

In the circular community that is Africa, it is easy to see the shortcomings of our linear, American society. We see everything within its boundaries. I have my house with my yard surrounded by my fence. And my property ends where my neighbor’s begins; there is no overlap. My children are my responsibility, and I dare anyone to discipline them without my express permission. At the end of the day, my family goes inside my home, where I enjoy my possessions… which no one else better touch.

Don’t get me wrong—America is blessed, and it is home for me. But I’m starting to see that with our linear, boundary-driven mindset, we miss out on the community that is such a blessing in Africa. I don’t know how to change this… I just know that I need more circles in my life.