Fear Not Little Flock

A gentle breeze wrapped itself around me as my teacher friend and I walked from the public taxi we had ridden to come to his family land. It was still such a surprise to me that he extended this invitation, that for the duration of our journey to his village, I couldn’t wipe the silly, happy grin off of my face. Oh what joy in my heart to get out of the city smog for a brief moment and slow down. The breeze was my welcome hug. Before the adventure had even begun, I knew God was up to something sweet and I was ready to find Him wherever He could be found. Oh how He loves us. 

Fear not little flock… 

As we walked along the dirt road by ourselves, I was struck with the silence. No city sounds could be heard, only the mooing of cows and chirping of birds. It was immediately calming to my soul, and with my teacher friend at my side, I felt his deep sigh as well. This was his homeplace, and he had already recounted many fond memories of growing up in this area. I think sharing our lives this way validates our humanity. We talked little, but shared so much. 

It was a long walk, the kind I had been wondering if I could ever have again since I live in a city where walking in peace is unheard of. In fact, for an entire week prior to this invitation, I had prayed that God would offer me creative solutions to my walking dilemma. I had no idea what awaited me. 

Fear not little flock… peace

We were soon welcomed by the shy smiles of nearby school children and people going about their daily chores. My teacher friend took me first to his home where we were greeted by his sister who was on school break. We made plans for our evening meal, he bought some mangoes to share and settled in for the night. 

Once his dad and mom returned from their work for the day, dinner preparations began. They have a fire in a small room adjacent to their home where they cook their meal. That they were willing and delighted to share their food with me was so humbling. We had traditional Ugandan fare and then gathered in their main room to fellowship and get to know one another. My teacher friend’s dad never stopped smiling or telling funny stories and the rest of the family joined in often. As I was in need of some dilly dally time and good belly laughs, my stomach wasn’t the only thing that got filled. 

Fear not little flock… joy

The next day was filled with slashing a field with a huge blade and tending cows… in a dress. He said no one does as well on their first try as I did, but I think he may have been exaggerating, seeing as I am his boss. (wink!) His dad has cows for income. He milks them and fills a large plastic bucket with the milk, loads it onto the back of a rickety old bike and peddles his wares, literally. Going from house to house, people come out with a container of some sort and take a bowl full. This used to be my friend’s job when he was a young boy growing up in the village. 

I loved watching his dad with his cows. We pumped water from a well up the road about a half of a mile from his pasture, filling large yellow jerry cans, and then loading them on the bike to take to the cows because there is no water where they are living. He spends all of his days with the cows, looking after each and every need, and tending them like a mother of small children. It is a sight to behold. Even the cows have their needs met. 

Fear not little flock…  righteousness 

We eventually had to say our goodbyes, but the invitation to return again was made clear. It was a wonderful walk down a long red dirt road back. We grinned at each other for time well spent. 

I think the simplicity of this journey was the very thing that made it so profound. “Fear not little flock, for it is the Father’s good pleasure to give you the Kingdom.”  Luke 12:32 As we fret, fail to slow down, fear for our needs, and ignore his gentle shepherding we can miss an opportunity to discover the glorious pleasure of the kingdom he offers us… righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. (Romans 14:17) 

In the simple yes of our hearts, He responds with a Holy, irrevocable yes to us as well. So, join me as I pray that we would all remember, … it is our Father’s good pleasure to give us the kingdom. 

Two are better than one

Two bright smiles greeted me this afternoon as I came home from school, each waving at me to join them. “Come, you sit!” was the friendly demand in my ears. Delighted to be asked, my heart felt that familiar tug of friendship, but still coupled with the uncertainties on how one does that well in a land not your own. The differences of our life experiences, language barriers, and thus the challenges of cross cultural friendships, attempt to forcibly present themselves, while Jesus gently whispers, love. Sometimes, I forget.

Love comes in many forms. Jesus showed us how. Gifts, kindness, prayers, time, a shoulder to cry on, advocate, just name a few. There is no end to His goodness and kindness, likewise our opportunities to demonstrate this in our short lives on this earth.

Last week, Marjorette showed up at my door with a watermelon, four apple mangoes, three green oranges and a guava. Humbled beyond belief, I am still astonished at the generous gift. She said she wanted me to feel welcome in her country, and that we were friends. Today, all she and Claire (my new friend) desired was to be with me.

Sitting comfortably on the cinderblocks presented to me, I sat my burdens aside and gave them my full attention. Truth be told, I was grateful for company. Unexpected were the blessings to follow. My Heavenly Father never ceases to amaze me. He is so present in each and every moment, and delights to reveal truth to our soft hearts. If only we will remain soft, teachable, and ever present to Him as well. Each time I run into myself, there is an immediate opportunity to turn back and run straight into His arms. His one and true heart is to teach us the meaning of love, His way.

As we sat together, I realised that my two friends were there reminding me of “what’s what” as they say in Uganda. Marjorette said we would sit and count bodas passing by, while Claire wanted to show me pictures of her grandkids. Marjorette said “this is life of the poor, we spend time together and do whatever we can together to make the time pass by.” On this day, they invited me to come and be their friend too, to sit with them every day and teach one another. Marjorette showed me how to peel a matoke, and Claire expressed her disdain for them, as she prefers the irish potatoes. They have decided to teach me how to cook chapoti among other things. They talked of motherhood, and widowhood, boredom and joy.

Both expressed the reality that I have found my way to two friends that I probably never expected. They said the reason they liked me was because I was warm, and obviously liked people. The truth is, I like them as well. What is not to like about our fellow humans, the ones our Maker calls His family? Our Father’s delight in us spills out of our hearts onto those who might not know how loved they are quite yet. Every day we must find make our way into His presence where this simple truth can be revealed to our hearts.

Claire expressed her great joy that I had found my way to them, the poorest of the poor, who had nothing much to offer me but their friendship. They are beautiful, strong women who have lived through realities I never want to face. Their perseverance in the face of relentless poverty is enough to silence me in awe, and what they offer me is so much more than they understand. I hope ours will be a relationship of rich give and take in our shared humanity. The weight of promised friendship is not lost on me. They pledged to take care of me and declared themselves in all manner of strong humour, to be the mayors of the piece of land we were sitting on. I think I believe them.

Talks of dreams and hopes and sorrows and sickness were the stuff that decorated our time together like beautiful flowers adorning a spring tree. Hope is here. Womanhood, sisterhood, and humanhood (wink, wink) is a beautiful gift for this day. Indeed, ‘two are better than one, because if one falls, the other can pick her up.’ Ecc. 4

Next week, I hope to teach them how to make guacamole. I will keep you posted. :-)

With big, brave love….

Two are better than one…

“Mother Teresa said: Today it is very fashionable to talk about the poor. Unfortunately, it is not fashionable to talk with them. ”

On the way...

One day recently, driving through the thick red mud in the village headed to Busiika to see all of my middle schoolers and their caretakers, I was overwhelmed by the beautiful place I am calling home these days. The sights and smells and sounds are becoming at once more familiar as they are more intriguing. Mine is an interesting life to say the least, and the people who I live amongst are a treasure yet to be unearthed.

On this day, after a persistent rain, the road became quickly became a river, and really, a swamp boat would have been more helpful in many ways as we navigated the terrain. The almost technicolor green jungle plants popped with bright beauty against the red clay soil and the contrast was breathtaking. We had to "drive” more carefully on this trip, which gave me more time to see the villagers we passed along the way.

Women dressed in all manner of clothing, children dressed in.. nothing, men on bicycles and children everywhere. The toddlers and up, attend to themselves. I cannot tell you how many children under the age of three we pass, all by their lonesome, walking around the village. I always wonder how they don’t get carried away by wild animals, or killed by snakes, to name two. Then there were children at the well, with their yellow jerry cans, helping each other prime the pump that is always taller than they are. People on benches, too many for their capacity, all squeezed on as if their close proximity was all that mattered. I watched as women sat on the dirt, peeling various things, cooking over small fires and washing clothes. Men engaged in heated debates and laughing while holding hands, walking down the paths to who knows where. Clothes covering stumps to dry, beans on woven mats, piles of wood and all manner of things lying around. Goats, cows, chickens, ducks, and yes, even some quail, run to and fro looking for an unsuspecting worm or insect to feed their hungry bellies. All in all, it is a land fraught with activity, most of which is foreign to this foreigner, but ever so wonderful.

As a visual learner, I take in each detail of this drive with great delight and curiosity. I have too many questions then I have time to ask, and my heart aches to connect with each and every person by the wayside. The things I witness on our drive inspire equal amounts of awe and sadness. There is a way that being confronted with all the images of suffering and sorrow all the while knowing the wild perseverance that exists in so many, encourages me to forge ahead in this mission of love. I am willing to be here, doing what I do because I believe in my Maker and know He has great plans for this country.

I have met many wonderful people, but the bottom line is that this country is struggling to survive on a deep level. Nevertheless, every single day I am reminded of the extreme goodness of God. His way is peace, no matter what crisis we face. So, I wake up eager each and every day, to share the truth of our glorious family. I get to encourage children to be curious to know who thought of them and called them forth from their mother’s womb. (Psalm 139) I get to inspire teachers to grow and learn in their field. I get to sow love and hope and healing everywhere I go. This is our great commission! He longs for the whole earth to know and love Him the way He knows and loves us. How beautiful.

Ephesians 3 continues to stir deeply in my heart. When my son was even still in my belly, I prayed this prayer over him every day. I think it is significant that in a land lacking mothers and fathers and where children are raising themselves, that this is my cry. My mother’s heart longs for each and every person in my care to encounter this. “For this reason I bow my knees to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ from whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named that He would grant you, according to the riches of His glory, to be strengthened with might through His spirit in the inner man, that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, that you, being rooted and grounded in love may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the width and length and depth and height of the Love of Christ, which passes knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly more than we could ever ask or think, … to Him be the glory.”

So as I wander around this fantastic place, I hope to have many more wonderful stories to share. Thank you so much for being with me here, in heart and spirit.

Big, Brave, Africa Hugs!

Baby sleeping under a stall, while mama tries to sell her cooked beans.

Fall

It is the season where leaves fall off trees in our neck of the woods. For most of us, this season is pure bliss, and we go to great lengths to scramble up mountains and walk through forests, looking to see what glorious painting the Lord offers us with each passing day. I admit that this season has never actually been my favorite though. I mean, am I the only one who ever thought that the word “Fall” sounds foreboding? That said, what I know is that history can forcefully counter our deep knowing when it serves our idolatry. You know the idols I mean, those insidious little goblins that present themselves every time we decide that autumn is indeed a wonderful season, that surrender is actually life. They are named things such as fear of hoping, failing, falling…. or worse, bitterness, anger and un-forgiveness at what was despite what is. When we listen to them, we are blind again, only seeing the gloom of no hope.

Stop imitating the ideals and opinions of the culture around you, but be inwardly transformed by the holy spirit, through a total reformation of how you think. This will empower you to discern God’s will as you live a beautiful life, satisfying and perfect in His eyes. Romans 12:2

I did not arrive at my reticence over embracing all of the beauty of this season haphazardly. It was more like I earned it. There was a particular fall season that felt very much like being forcefully ripped off my tree by some Tasmanian style storm gale and then being sucked down the nearest sewer guard gasping for air desperately hoping that I would end up in a nice lazy river soon. Yes.

Thankfully, after a lot of help from a lot of people, I eventually healed from the darkness of those years, and now I believe that letting go is the most precious gift. I am no victim. Neither are you. I think it is so fascinating that leaves go through such a quick metamorphosis, and that they are most beautiful when they finally detach from all they have ever known. Do we look that beautiful to Jesus when we finally loose our grip on what is familiar to us, and agree to trust Him with each and every detail of our lives, no matter the end? I think so.

Now, if anyone is enfolded in Christ, he has become an entirely new creation. All that is related to the old order has vanished. Behold, everything is fresh and new. 2 Corinthians 5:17

Uganda doesn’t have a fall season. In fact, I don’t know of any African country that does. There is rainy season, and dry season. Leaves don’t turn colors, pumpkins don’t abound, and there aren’t fire pits and twinkly lights lighting up cozy nights in our flannels. In the comfort of this kind of living, it feels a bit easier to say yes to just about anything. I mean, ease certainly helps us relax and enjoy life doesn’t it? Don’t get me wrong, I am not disparaging comfort, rather revealing the inner workings of my own heart to you so that you will know that I am just a human, leaving America for a bit to love the people He is sending me to and to learn who love truly is. I believe that there is coming a season in which I will be daily confronted with what it really means to let go, live life for Him, and trust Him with the outcome. For now, I will admire the graceful dance of the leaves and the wind in this gorgeous season, and hope I can learn to dance as well.

There may not be an actual fall in Uganda, but surrender is everywhere. In so many lives, surrender has yielded its very lifeblood to hopelessness, fear and the like. It is certainly no wonder. But, what if everyone learned whose hands they were falling into and how wonderful He is? I believe the children of God are in a season filled with grace, hope and fantastic possibilities. What if what I have walked through shouts of His faithfulness, goodness and wonderful plans to the suffering? I want to share of the joyous mercies spoken of below with the ones He is sending me to.

Drink deeply of the pleasures of this God. Experience for yourself the joyous mercies He gives to all who turn to hide themselves in Him. Psalm 34:8

That said, it is hard to believe that In about 12 or so more Fridays, I will head back to Uganda and embrace the new season. Can I ask you to join me in prayer, invite me to your fire pit, and maybe even sip a pumpkin latte with me in a cozy corner? With the holidays quickly approaching, I am hopeful that there is plenty of space for celebrating and dreaming with me about all that is happening with BraveAfrica. I can’t do this without you guys, nor do I want to. Let’s dance together through this changing season, shall we?

Looking forward to being with you soon!

love to you all….

Enjoy this song that is strong on my heart these days. We can trust the one who made us in whatever season we find ourselves because His love remains. Embrace change, take a risk and let go, you never know where you will land but I guarantee He has beautiful plans for you and you can trust Him completely.

Mama Margaret

I met a woman during my time in Uganda named Mama Margaret. This was no ordinary woman. She carried herself with profound dignity, releasing the fiery gaze of true love with each step that she walked. She prayed without ceasing, believed without wavering and smiled without guile. She was royalty, no doubt. The beauty that radiated from her was so intricately woven into the fabric of her being that any darkness within you was confronted and loved into wholeness at first glance. This magnificent daughter of God knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what is real, and to whom she belonged. Her strength roared like a lion over every fear.

I write about her to remind myself of what is real. “So keep your thoughts continually on all that is authentic and real, honorable and admirable, beautiful and respectful, pure and holy, merciful and kind. And fasten your thoughts on every glorious work of God, praising Him always.” Phillippians 4:8.

The first time I met Mama Margaret, I was overcome by her strength. At our first introduction, she grabbed hold of me, looked deeply into my eyes and told me she loved me and she was praying for me. She never failed to hug me and thank me for being there to help her in the endless ministry to the poor. You would never know of her poverty, her tears and her struggles as you watch her metaphorically wash the feet of all of those around her. Raising fifteen children, mostly not her own, in a “house” with no water, electricity, or room even for all of those children, and all without a husband as well. You see, he died of cancer a year ago leaving only his legacy. Now, this mama does it all. She has a garden and picks what she can to sell, she pastors the church her husband left behind, she oversees the feeding program in the village, feeding at least a hundred children once a week, and of course, don’t forget the fifteen mouths she is responsible for at home. Then there is all of the discipleship that flows from her like an effervescent river, not just for her children, whom she is raising so well, but all of those in her charge. Mama Margaret works tirelessly in her village making sure that the needs she can meet are met, that her people know she loves them, and then of course the endless prayers for those who suffer the most.

Recently, a young man in her care was dying of liver cancer and told he would not last a week. She gathered her intercessors, and fell on her knees and cried out for mercy from the living God. I am not sure if her prayers get a bit more attention or not, but I do know that God heard their cry. This man was healed one hundred percent. They have the doctor records to prove it. He is now looking at life through a completely different lens. Where he said in my presence that he felt as if the world was too small for him, and that his existence could not be supported on this planet, he now knows that his Maker says something entirely different. He is alive and well now, telling of God’s marvelous deeds everywhere he goes.

There are so many beautiful people in this world. You are one of them!

I believe we all need people in our lives to encourage us onward, to inspire us to more, and to be an example that we aim to follow. May we all find the people who can spurn us on to the upward call of Christ and indeed be this for others. “I don’t depend on my own strength to accomplish this, however I do have one compelling focus; I forget all of the past as I fasten my heart to the future instead. I run straight for the divine invitation of reaching the heavenly goal and gaining the victory prize through the anointing of Jesus.” Phillippians 3:12-14.

With love…

Haley

Pictured below is Mama Margaret, and Ronald. He is Margaret’s oldest biological son, and one of the most precious humans I have ever encountered. He struggles with his dad being gone now, but puts his all into helping his mom with the younger children. Thankfully, he is off to university this month, thanks to generous donors and will come back to the village of Wakiso to spread life and life abundant once his studies are complete.

An Orange, a Job, and Good Health

“Please pray that God would give me an orange.” I have written these words before as I shared about the prayer requests and hearts cries of the children I encountered over the past three months. Obviously, hearing the various prayers and requests had an impact on my heart. “Please pray that God would give me money, a home, heal my uncle, a job, knowledge, help to pass my test, understanding, and on and on.” I can look with my heart’s eyes at each face, and feel the weight of each and every one of these requests. They are not altogether different than the way we pray in the states.

In Philippians 4:6 we are told “Don’t be pulled in different directions or worried about a thing. Be saturated in prayer throughout each day, offering your faith-filled requests before God with overflowing gratitude. Tell Him every detail of your life, then God’s wonderful peace that transcends human understanding will make the answers known to you through Jesus Christ.” What joy, what hope?!?

In a country said to be predominantly Christian, one can’t help but pause and consider the obvious question. Why then is corruption, poverty and disease the prevailing reality? If Christianity has indeed permeated the core of the culture, then the tenants of Christianity are a lie, or something is missing. Right? I mean, how do we explain this?

Don’t get me wrong, there are “born agains” everywhere, Muslims who were also followers of Jesus, Catholics, Anglicans, and the list goes on. The gospel is proclaimed at most every institution, on signs, billboards, the sides of cars, and even on produce stands. Jesus is not a foreign name amongst this crowd, and pretty much anyone will allow you to pray with them. “Please pray that my business will go better” they will ask as you weave through their wares, or “Please pray that my sickness will leave” “Please, what is God saying about me?” and more, are the requests you can almost always find.

Prayer is such a profound gift. Being able to freely talk with maker of the world, the one who brought us into the world, and the only one who has any power to impact our world is beyond comprehension. Not to mention the fact that in this, He hears us and responds!  Psalm 106:44 says that He regarded the Israelites when He heard their cry and then He relented. There are many places we see God moving toward His children as they cry out for Him. So, praying with the people of Uganda was a privilege because I know He regards their cry, but I believe there is so much more.

When we pray sometimes, I believe that we treat God like a vending machine, and we hope that we press the right buttons to obtain what we think we need right then and there. Oftentimes, what we want is a lot like that bag of Oreos, (or pick your poison),  bad for us, cheap, and only good for the two seconds it takes to down them. There is no lasting good that comes from getting what we want from the vending machine. God knows what we need and when we need it.

However, it goes deeper than this. What if the prayer requests we offer up, like “God, I need money, or I need an orange, or I need a job” tell a different story?  What if when we pray, begging for this and that, we were really asking for something we were not even conscious of?  What if all of our anxieties and worries were really just a cry to know and be known?  Don't we have peace that is promised in that scripture when we feel that someone understands our needs, cares about them and is willing to help us? I think this feels so much better than just having what we need, because relationship is involved. Peace doesn't come through our getting the answer we think we need as much as knowing we were heard does.  In part, praying with someone is an expression of His attentiveness towards us as we cry out. We are being His hands and feet, sometimes even providing substance to the shared needs. This is a beautiful reality, but it can’t stop there. There has to be more to offer the person than our own agreement and occasional help.

I would like to teach and learn with the children of Uganda to relate to God as a Father and to learn about what it means to be a member of the family of God. Our prayers become much more real when we recognize who we are talking to and what His intentions are toward us. What if instead of “God, please give me money” we said, "God, I feel afraid , discouraged, and hopeless, will you please help me to receive love, courage and hope in your presence? God, would you Father me, nurturing my deep need to be provided for and attended to? God, I know you are good, and nothing bad comes from you, thank you for being such a good and faithful Father."  Children who begin to know their true identity and the nature of the one who created them will engage with the world so much differently than their predecessors. If a whole generation learned the real truth, not religious traditions, corruption, poverty and disease would be entirely eradicated.

Therein lies my point. Just like in our own journeys as followers of Jesus, we see our continuous need to grow and learn and be transformed, the journey of a nation is no different. We never arrive, but wisdom is justified by her children as we read in Luke 7:35.  In other words, there has to be more than meets the eye in a nation considered Christian, if that same nation is suffering daily under the weight of lack, disease, and fear. Did you know that 52% of the population of Uganda is under the age of 15?  This isn’t unique to Uganda however, because this statistic is pretty much the reality of the whole of Africa give or take a few. Children are raising themselves, and more and more the only encounter they have with the gospel is the sign they read, or the scripture they hear at school. Imagine what will happen as they enter into adulthood having never been immersed in the truth of who they are and who they belong to? Is it possible that some of the corruption so rampant in so many areas of Africa is a result of whole generations of orphans taking their place in the big world of adulthood without a clue about how to do anything but survive?

In reality, there are many reasons for the problems in Africa of which I know next to nothing about. What I have observed and learned in the past 10 years or so however has given me pause and what I do know is that if prayer requests were an indicator of the spiritual climate of a population, then a beautiful start for seeing a shift would be to begin teaching children the truth of who they are. I believe there are children sitting in slums, classrooms, streets and villages who are destined to change their world. I believe this is possible. Discipling a nation, bringing kingdom culture into each and every other culture, requires lives laid down, and patient endurance until the end. The fact of the matter is the harvest is truly ripe and it is time to reap. Will you pray with me about this, that the Lord would send others to join me and the people of Uganda to love the ones He sends us to?

In the end, I think  it all boils down to the simple gospel. When we pray we are to believe that He is who is says He is and will do what He said He will do. “Which of you Fathers, when your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead?” Luke 11:11.   He told us to be like little children in Matthew 18:2-4 so that we could understand the kingdom of God. He invites us to be ones who trust in the simple truth that we belong to a gracious and kind Father, we are legitimate members of His family and there is hope for our future in the land of the living. I believe that every culture, our personal heart culture, a singular family culture, a workplace culture, and yes, a whole nation’s culture, need the truths contained in a kingdom culture in order to thrive. So, if we can raise up children who know the truth, because we ourselves know the truth, doesn’t it follow that the world will change? Did Jesus not come to restore all things, redeem mankind, and abolish all things in opposition to what He laid His life down for?

As I press into the one who knows me best, and who has opened up an invitation to know Him more and serve His children in Uganda, I am aware of my own daily need of the simple gospel. We cannot speak with authority about something we ourselves haven’t been confronted over, and this is no different. He has made a way for constant communion with Him. This is why we can tell him about "every detail of our lives", and await His peace. I want to encourage, teach and support the people He is sending me to and I want to see an entire generation be raised up who will shift the whole nation of Uganda and elsewhere into their glorious and beautiful inheritance. Would you pause with me in prayer as you read through this scripture in light of these thoughts? I know He hears our cry. At the end of this post there is also a song that I sing as an anthem over the children of Uganda. Will you sing with me?

Isaiah 61

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me

Because the Lord has anointed me

To preach good tidings to the poor;

He has sent me to heal the brokenhearted

To proclaim liberty to the captives,

And the opening of the prison to those who are bound

To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord

And the day of vengeance of our God

To comfort all who mourn,

To console those who mourn in Zion

To give them beauty for ashes,

The oil of joy for mourning,

The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness

That they may be called trees of righteousness,

The planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.

And they shall rebuild the old ruins,

They shall raise up the former desolations

And they shall repair the ruined cities,

The desolations of many generations.

Strangers shall stand and feed your flocks

And the sons of the foreigner shall be your plowmen and your vinedressers

But you shall be named the priests of the Lord,

They shall call you the servants of our God

You shall eat the riches of the Gentiles

And in their glory you shall boast.

Instead of your shame you shall have double honor

And instead of confusion they shall rejoice in their portion

Therefore in their land they shall possess double

Everlasting joy shall be theirs.

For I, the Lord, love justice

I hate robbery for burnt offering

I will direct their work in truth

And will make them an everlasting covenant.

…

I will greatly rejoice in the Lord

My soul shall be joyful in my God

For He has clothed me with the garments of salvation

He has covered me with the robe of righteousness

As a bridegroom decks himself with ornaments.

And as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.

For as the earth brings forth its bud,

As the garden causes the things that are sown in it to spring forth

So the Lord God will cause

Righteousness and praise to spring forth before all the nations.

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Blessing

There is a school in the village called Blessing. There are three classes in all. Imagine one room school houses with no windows or doors, dirt and rock floors hardened over time, and next to nothing on the walls made of rock and brick and mud. There are student benches, attached to a thin top, though not plentiful enough to be shared by the large quantities of children seated in them. Each classroom contains a range of ages such as 1-3rd 4-6th and 7-8th. But even this system is loose. I have seen two teachers, but imagine there has to be at least one other. The classroom I am asked to teach in is a mixture of children ages 6-12. I’m sure there is a system for how this sort of works, but it eludes me. Some children speak some English, but most of it is so limited I have to use a translator. I love working with translators if the spirit is in it because we work synergistically, and have more to offer the children.

One day I went to teach this class, and noticed that the teacher was missing again… not sure if she had even been to school yet. Since the children know when to expect us however, they never seem to be late. We opened as usual with a few ice breakers, songs and prayers, then it was time for the lesson. I was going to teach them about the love of the Father, ways to use our gifts and service for others, His presence and all the many things that seem to want to spill from my heart at first sight of so many orphans. On this particular day, they were unusually quiet. (This class is a bit sassy, and they giggle and talk much mother tongue in spite of my best efforts.)

I noticed how subdued they were and decided to enlist their help to tell my story up front. They happily clamored to my side and began their best acting efforts. The remaining children watched with smiles. At the end of the story I asked a lot of questions and then decided to pursue them about some of what was on their heart.

I wish that I spoke Luganda, that I was there every day establishing safety and trust, I wish that they knew how much they are loved, and my wish list goes on for miles. All this to say, despite it all, I managed to elicit a number of responses about their “hearts desires, and thoughts about the unique way they are designed” but they came in the form of pilot, surgeon, lawyer, etc.. You may know this already, but these are super common answers from kindergartners to seniors as you ask them about themselves. I am sure these answers are real in a sense, but OH how my heart yearns for them to encounter true living that goes beyond a profession...aka survival.

I knew that the best way to pursue them was through prayer however, and to cry out for the Living God to overwhelm them un-mistakingly. So, one by one, I prayed over each and every one of these children, at least thirty in all, and shared the heart of the Father with them. No one spoke a word this entire time, all waiting for their turn. Imagine what it would be like to be taught to pray, but have no one to pursue you and pray specifically for you. Most of these children fall into this category, and knowing how desperately children need to be seen and known and heard, how can one respond but with a resounding yes! to Jesus. I admit that tears escaped my eyes as I held each child close and prayed, but my heart was so full as I realized what God was saying about each one. There was such palpable hunger and humility among most of the students… I was filled with hope and expectation.

At the end of it all, what rose up in my heart and drenched all those around me was that God wants His family whole and strong. These children  may not have intact families but they have each other. All that God wants is that we love our family and love the ones not yet in our family until they succumb to the beauty of being known and adopted. This is truly the great commission. His true heart is for everyone to know they belong. One of the ways we learn this is through our relationships with one another. I’m hopeful that these children will continue to grow in every wonderful way with one another being their primary goal. They have such bright futures ahead with God on their side. 

As I finished up, and gathered them once again together, I smiled with confidence, because I know the goodness of my Father and I know He will never stop pursuing these children with His unstoppable love. Love never fails. 

Pray for the children of Uganda. They are the future hope for this country. Thank you all for being a part of their story with me.

Looking in From the Outside

I met some new friends as I walked the path to the slum that borders the pitch where the children play games like soccer and tug of war. As I sat down I heard the happy jabbering of a small child, and looked over to see an adorable boy carrying a bamboo stick and happily roaming about. This is common here, that children roam about, do chores and in general take care of themselves. He was probably three by the looks of it, and when he noticed me, he toddled over and sat beside me and proceeded to carry on a full blown, one sided conversation with me. He was not phased when I could only stare at him and grin, sharing a few meager words and phrases that I know. He was a very quick study however, repeating all the words I used to show him our surroundings. Stick, rock, truck… well you get the picture. We sat contentedly together for some time, watching the school children play games. After a while, a boy probably thirteen or so walked over and talked to my new friend. I discovered that he was the uncle, the child’s name was Rockford, and the teen was named Clifford. He and I sat mostly in silence because he really wasn’t interested in anything but watching a group of his peers play games while he stared through the fence. It was painfully obvious that he longed to be out there with them, and that he was not in school. As I sat in silence with him, my heart was literally broken. Then it wasn’t long before a whole group of boys lined the path, all watching and wishing they could join the games.

I have mentioned that the children at one of the schools I have been volunteering at all live in the neighboring slum. The boys who joined me on the path to watch the games also live in the slums. They will all likely join up after school for more soccer and games, but during the school day, the only ones playing on that field and learning and growing are the ones blessed to have school fees.

As I continued to sit there, another reality showed up, that of the very young girls all the way to teens, who are also not in school, who carried jug after jug of water up the hill to their homes. They did not just go to the well which was pretty deep into the slum, but they did this multiple times. One little girl, between four and five had to stop over and over and adjust her weight, and use a sock for her hand that was hurt so she could carry it. She was so tired, and she looked at me with eyes that ripped my heart out. The hill that they were going up is steep, and tall. Another girl, much stronger and faster, apparently finished her afternoon water chores early and joined the boys on the path with me to watch. They carry water throughout the day, this is their life.

There were so many cultural experiences in the simple act of sitting on a well trodden path in the slum that it blows my mind.  This is life here and though these children aren’t in school today, I have hope that this system will change as well. So, I smiled, and prayed for a few of them and hoped that I wasn’t interfering otherwise, then I went back to sit with my sweet little jabbbering friend and watch as he found a broken truck to play with. We made car noises together and enjoyed each other’s company immensely. Sometimes, the best answer to obvious pain and lack is to smile, hope for brighter days, and enjoy each other despite it all.

I walked back into the school filled with laughter and a sense of belonging and prayed for all those who still yet don’t know who they belong to all the while celebrating those who had made it inside. Brighter days are ahead, God has beautiful plans for Uganda, and there truly is hope. Join me as I cry out for all that God has in store for this country.

A House on the Rock

Sometimes you just need to walk around with eyes open and heart willing to seek out the people who are searching for answers. As we walked down a road praying that God would lead us to these, we felt drawn to a row of colored doorways down an alleyway. We soon found ourselves in the heart of a compound, likely shared by many families. There was a common area for refuse, overlaid with tree branches to help people navigate the path around, and along the path were women and children bent over in customary form over buckets washing clothes and dishes and doing the work of running life in the village. The smell of fires under jiko stoves with promises of beans and poshu and other native foods that fill bellies were lit and ready for preparing the evening meal.

We walked up to a young man, probably 25 or so, and he immediately offered chairs for us to sit in. After explaining why we were there, which was to encourage him and hear about ways we could support him, we settled into a time of fellowship. When we first sat down, I was aware of His sad countenance. He looked as if he carried the world upon his shoulders. We discovered that he was a pretty secure businessman who traveled a lot in order to take care of his family. He had a wife, and two children, one who was still an infant that came crawling out to greet us in our circle. He whisked her up like any proud father and kissed her sweet face. I have enjoyed how much affection fathers and mothers shower on their children in Uganda.

From my vantage point, I could see beyond the house we were at and looked in awe at the massive rock this compound was built upon. I imagine the many generations of people who had likely built upon this rock for safety. It was high on the hill where we had walked and overlooked the gorgeous valley below. There were clothes lines, fire pits and likely shrines throughout the width of it. As I imagined all the people who had come and gone, I knew that our new friend had discovered a great place to raise his children.

We smiled shyly at one another at first because as with any new friendships, we share only our humanity. Regardless, it is remarkable that humility and a desire to be with others governs this country in so many ways. Everywhere we go, people want to talk, they want to relate, they want to share what is on their mind, and they want to hear your thoughts. Hospitality here is like the warm hug from your sweet grandmother, as if always hoping and waiting for someone to hold. To turn someone away would be completely upside down.

Samuel was his name and as it turns out, he did not know that His Maker is His Father and that He wanted a relationship with him through His son Jesus. He did not know that the creator of the earth wants to talk to him and be his friend. He had no idea that he could talk to his Heavenly Father every minute of every day and that he was loved so magnificently. So we talked for a couple of hours, and encouraged one another, because he had things to say as well. In the end, Samuel told us that he had never heard such things and that he was so grateful that we took the time to explain the answers to his questions and to help him with the troubles of his heart. He was visibly moved. He hugged us and shook our hands, then he invited us back the next week so that his entire extended family could hear about this and so that they could all be adopted together. 

Samuel is just one of the many people who don’t know who knit them together and why, who live without peace in a country filled with injustice, poverty, and pain. I am overwhelmed with gratitude to be a part of this story… may we all embrace the ones in front of us and tell them the glorious truth of their savior. Love wins.

Blind Eyes

What I know about myself is that I enjoy all ages, races and designs. 

Babies fill my love tank, jajas make my heart burst, teens inspire me, children give me joy… well you get the picture. So being in Uganda in the homes, schools, hospitals, prisons, villages and the city has been incredible because I have found myself interlocked with all of God’s people. One thing I know, as children of God, we belong to one another, we need one another, and even just a simple conversation has the possibility of chasing away darkness. 

One day when I set out with a friend to visit a jaja, our plans were changed when we did not find her at home. Looking back, that was all in the plan because God had another jaja in mind for us to visit. His name is Forgensia. Forgensia, like most of the jajas we know, lives alone, in a dark mud and brick dwelling with a dirt floor, and a host of creatures in and out of the holes created by the elements. He has two rooms, but as he only has a stool for visitors, a stump of a tree for himself, and a few jerry cans laying about, he really has more room than he needs. What makes Forgensia tug on my heart is the fact that his eyes are closed all the time...literally.  He has a condition that prevents him from opening his eyelids.

Forgensia must pull an eyelid up with his finger in order to see anything at all, and even then, his eyesight is poor. When I first met him and watched him lift up the one eyelid to see me, I had to struggle to hold back my sobs. He lives in literal darkness not created by the lack of electricity. Thieves come and go as they please stealing his charcoal, or food if he has had the good fortune of having food that day, and he can do nothing to stop them. He has children who live far away and therefore, we are some of his only visitors. In addition, he is wracked with pain, he has a large tumor on his chest, growing as we speak, and has many other problems as well, making it difficult for him to move.

Nonetheless, he has never failed to welcome visitors, and offer what he has to give, a list of endless questions regarding the meaning of life, God, and the Bible.

The first time he invited us into deep and interesting conversations, it was immediately apparent that his mind is strong, probing, and literally all that he really has. He is very skeptical, countering thoughts with those of his own. Sometimes, he shares his strength and hope, but most of the time our conversations reveal the truth about fears and anxieties that are rooted deep in his heart. Truthfully, his closed eyes are a profound metaphor for his life. Just as he cannot see beauty with his eyes, his heart is also blind to the free gift of acceptance and love that he longs for. What is the remedy for such angst?... love. So it is love that we offer, love that wins, and love that brings a smile to his face as he lifts up his eyelid to share in a chuckle.

On this day however, the loneliness and fear as we approached his house was palpable. When we entered in, it took him some time to emerge and greet us from the back room. Greeting us, he did not even bother to lift up his eyelid. As I silently prayed for light to overcome darkness, tears poured out of me. Compassion overwhelmed me as I waited, but thankfully, joy was right on the heels of this. After all, God restores, renews, gives beauty for ashes, strength for fears. He is hope for the hopeless, and a defender of widows and the poor. He is mighty to save and endlessly faithful. His mercies are real. He is a pro at overcoming all things dark, and using willing hearts to be light in the darkness. So as I shared what was on my heart and prayed and hoped and talked with him, I watched as the loneliness, fear, angst and darkness retreated and his countenance was uplifted. I believe that the eyes of His heart were opened, just like Ephesians 3, and though I prayed and hoped for his actual eyes to see, I will take this miracle any day. His hurting heart received exactly what was needed, to know he is not forgotten and he is not alone. His well-being was intact. The once dark atmosphere we walked into had completely shifted! What a beautiful testimony of His faithfulness, and what a gift to be allowed to replace fear with love, to bring light to the darkness, and to love the world, one person at a time.

So....please say a little prayer for Forgensia, especially that God would heal him, send more people to visit him, and that love would overcome him for the rest of his days. 

True spirituality that is pure in the eyes of our Father is to make a difference in the lives of the orphans, and widows in their troubles, and to refuse to be corrupted by the worlds values.

James 1:27

School days...

“Miracle, do you know why you are named Miracle?” I asked him this, because as I walked into his empty classroom, I found him on the floor with his head covered as if he was upset. I probed him with many questions, and even got a smile out of him and eventually we sang a song together. Turns out he was being punished by the teacher and missed tea. This classroom, which I have adopted in my heart, is a group of very rowdy 1st graders… except Miracle, who is much older and this fact has created a lot of insecurity in him. So, sometimes he misbehaves. The truth is, this class is truly a handful, and the teacher is brand new, having been hired before she had been to teaching school herself. She is learning in the fire for sure. So, as I spoke with Miracle, my heart yearned for him the many things I wish I could magically give each person I meet here. He did not know why he was named Miracle, so I gave him homework to find out, and offered a few guesses about the truth of his name, and saw his demeanor shift. Yay Jesus.

Within minutes, the rest of the class came literally barreling in, falling all over each other, fighting, yelling, and the like. I was immediately attacked by Favor who wanted to show me her hurt toe, Gloria who wanted to show me a letter she wrote to me, and someone I don’t know who wanted to tell on someone. I felt right at home.

I loved on the one who was hurt, broke up the fight and read the letter while hugging Gloria with all of my might to let her know how much her letter meant to me. Oh how I wish I had more arms, more attention, and more love to use. There is just such a powerful need everywhere I turn. His grace is sufficient.

Today, I asked Teacher Irene if I could help her with anything, because she was sick. After I prayed for her, she asked me to teach language. Soon, all I heard was “Teacher, teacher, teacher!”…and little hands pulling my arms, my shirt, and everything they could to get my attention. I made my way to each demand, but took specialty notice of the ones who just weren’t getting it. It was beautiful to sit with them one on one, because I could smile and encourage them personally. Teacher Irene was feeling much better after prayer by the way!

I was also charged with teaching 7th grade history, literature, and spelling today… that was an adventure as well. They were kind and respectful, but... true story, three of them fell asleep as I taught them!!!! It was hot, pouring down rain, and the end of the day after full bellies of posho, which I am told puts people to sleep. I’ll go with that, because I don’t think I can stomach being that boring hahaha!

I ended the day in drama class...rehearsing the Christmas play and filling in for Narrator two. It was a full day for sure.

At the end of the day, what I notice is all the children who linger after the school day has ended. At this school, all the children who attend live in the slum. They have so much life to overcome, and yet there are more smiles than grains of sand. They stay and laugh and “play” with one another and they have to be told to go home by the security guards. Playing is a lot like fighting in the states. These children live life hard and fast because of their circumstances but I am so thankful they have a safe place to learn. I watched today as the security guard Samuel told several preschoolers (yes!!! Preschoolers!!!!) to walk home… he had to kick them out of their classroom! Then I walked into another classroom and found two children reading books, one in a corner all by herself, and another reading to a kindergartner from another class. I sat down beside a child named Jezreel who then read to me from a reader for phonics. It made no difference to him that this was not a beautiful picture book, he just wanted to learn to read and was staying at school to do just that. I celebrated Jezreel as he read to me, and prayed that he would always love to learn as much as he currently does.

Today was filled with beautiful moments, hard moments, and all the in between. I am so grateful to be living life here and learning so much. Please pray for me as I seek wisdom about my next steps in this journey… and for all the children at this school to know how much they are loved, and how important they are.

The teenage years...

While spending time with the teens from the nearby village, I was once again aware that teens are teens no matter where they are from. In fact, this is something I have consistently seen in all the times I have been in other places in the world. People simply need to be seen and known, and for some the need presses even further into discovering the “why?” that they exist. As I shared about identity and sonship and lies we believe, I noted the intensity of the way they each looked at me. It was as if they were trying to find strength in the passion of my words in hopes that they would feel a relief from the pressures of their lives. Admittedly, the life of a teen in a developing country, especially one who lives in the village rather than the city, presents its own set of unique challenges. For instance, 15 year old Kevin once shared his prayer request with me, “please ask God to give me an orange.” Big and small needs are real. Regardless, teens look to one another for identity, reassurance, and community and grown ups can only offer the wisdom they have gained through navigating the tumultuous storms of those years themselves. Though I know that what I shared was true, what was more true is that their answer did not lie in words, rather in relationship with their maker.

So my ultimate hope and prayer was that His presence would be real, that the prince of peace would show up and that the revelation they needed would be the merciful gift of their father that day. We broke into small groups and a group of precious teens literally laid themselves on me, draping themselves in my lap and under my arms and such like a tight fitting garment. I could feel their hearts beating and their sweat and their desires for God to be real, as they told me their needs. Sadly, my hopes for them far exceeded their own, at least in what they shared. I long for all of us to be awakened to God and His great love for us. We cried out to God together, with one heart, trusting in the mystery that we all belonged to Him and to one another. The beautiful Muslim in my arms asked me to pray for her to have understanding. So I did. Then there was Daphne, whose name is as delightful as she is, who laughed when I thought she told me she wanted marriage but she really said knowledge. The one whose name I never got rolled her eyes and begrudgingly spoke. Her closeness to me as she laid her head on my lap told a different story however. Only God can weave our lives together with himself and work all things together for good. Prayer brings us together, and knowing that someone cares and will share in both burdens and joys is reassuring no matter who you are.

After all the heartfelt lessons and prayers, we joined together in the one room church, as rain poured down, and we sang and danced as one with such a massive outpouring of joy and with such intensity that I know that God was with us, dancing amongst us and celebrating love that was shared. Moments like these make me so grateful to be alive, and to share life here. Thank you so much for believing in me. I can’t wait as this story continues to unfold.

Pray with me like Paul for all of us, and especially the ones He has sent me to in Uganda, “and I pray that he would unveil within you the unlimited riches of his glory and favor until supernatural strength floods your innermost being with his divine might and explosive power. Then by constantly using your faith, the life of Christ will be released deep inside of you, and the resting place of his love will become the very source and root of your life.” Ephesians 3:16-17

Circle Up!

As I sit and write this post, I am listening to the constant refrain of some sort of device repeatedly singing “we wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas we wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year. What?

Ok, let me carry on, and dream of winter as I write.“Everyone make a circle…. pronounced, surrrrrrcle.” This was the command of a stout and jolly woman, covered from head to toe in her religious head scarf, neck scarf, and full length dress, bright green, like her life filled personality. All I noticed was her smile as she gave us directions to join them for their exercises. Mostly jajas,men and women, but also pregnant moms, children, and young women as well, complied, and before I knew it, we were sweating and moving quickly for a robust set of movements. Up and down, side to side we all obeyed our instructor. Then the inevitable, “muzungu, come.” which was our realization that we would be asked to lead them in exercises as well. Each. One. Of. Us. So… like it or not, all three of us took the spot, and did all we could think of, squats, lunges and the like. This was Hilarious, because one jaja, literally got stuck on the down part of the squat, and looked pretty angry at our request, and then another simply passed out. Yes. Thankfully, this event then ended with us dancing and singing and walking around our circle. Although it was delightful in every way, we carried on to the maternity ward.

Here we discovered just hours old babies. We were so blessed to share in those moments with new moms, and to pray and encourage them. However for me, I had a interesting offer… and was invited to name one of the babies. This is not rare, so don’t think overly high of this, but on this day my friend and I prayed and asked God what we should name the baby, and we both heard the exact same name! Samuel. Frankly, I want the mama and daddy to name their baby, and don’t feel any need or desire to do this, but it is strange (and probably left over from darker days of colonization) and we comply because this mama wanted to hear what we had to say. I loved her response, “that is a nice name” because her tone told me that she had other plans for her babies name. That was a relief. Regardless of that cultural experience, He was too beautiful as well as His beautiful mama.

After a while, we enjoyed talking with many parents who were sick or had sick children or were simply worried about their children and life in general. One such women had her young boy (whose fever disappeared after I prayed for him by the way!!!!!) called us back a second time to pray to share her very painful story of her husband leaving. Ugandans tell you they don’t show public emotion culturally, but I tell you this woman was heartbroken. She cried and shared her heartache with me. What an incredible privilege.

There is so much more at the clinic, hiv ward, immunization ward, circumcision tent, and the like, and there are many opportunities to share light and Love. I am so thankful to learn about this culture while getting to love on so many people.

Little girl, I love you.

I have been in so many schools in my life, so one of the things I enjoy in Uganda is seeing all the smiling faces of the children we visit in each school. Anything goes in typical outreaches in the schools in Uganda, I think in part because of the massive need each school has for support and encouragement. The sheer magnitude of children, the dirt and rock floor classrooms, the lack of any books, chalk, pencils, or even qualified teachers is distressing to say the least. In Uganda, each child must pay school fees to go to school. There is no free or public education. There should be. The last day of outreach I had in the classroom I have spent my summer pouring into, ¾ of my students were missing because they did not have school fees. This means also that they couldn’t sit for their exams and would therefore not proceed. Prayers erupted from my heart for the children, the government officials who held funds that should be available to their countrymen, and for the teachers who had to struggle to offer the most meager education to children who need to change the world.

As I mentioned however, anything goes in a classroom. Sometimes the teacher is there, maybe with her baby, or sometimes they disappear for a much needed break. In the school where we were asked to conduct a field day, the teachers sat and watched as we tried to reign in 200 plus children who spoke very little English. I was on a team to help the little kids, up to age 12. So there were 3 year olds and 12 year olds participating. Eventually, after we ran out of energy and fun, we sat around holding children.

What is always true is that there is never enough love to go around. Not enough laps, not enough kisses, hugs, smiles, hands, and nurture. So on this day, I sat down, and slowly but slowly children began trying for my attention. Those who could not fit on my lap, tried to sit as close as they could, and others just went off to find an empty lap. But on this day, there was one sassy little girl. I could feel her attempts to thwart love right from the start. Likely in deep need of love, I began to sing and pray for her. She kept coming near and sideways looking at me, but then she was off again. Finally, she sat down about two feet away from me. Slowly but surely, she moved toward me inch by inch, until finally she put her hand on the edge of my knee… and a hour later she was in my lap. I held her close and she sat silent and still while I sang and prayed over her, knowing that Jesus answers every prayer. Little girl, I love you! I think I am sensitive to this because of some of my own life experiences.. as I imagine would be true for most of us. Jesus never leaves us or forsakes us, and times like I had with this little girl, who wouldn’t even tell me her name, can help solidify our understanding of this truth. We need people in our lives to demonstrate what He meant by this, and what it means that He understood all our our weaknesses and pain. He was abused, betrayed and rejected like all of us, but only in the context of family, even if only for a few hours with a surrogate mom, can we experience the reality of His overcoming love for ourselves.

After a while, it was time to love on the teachers. We played volleyball in scorching hot sun, and beat them. It was noteworthy that a simple game together had such an emotional impact on so many. When I was too tired and hot for more volleyball, I went to the teachers watching with my team and we painted their nails which I am admittedly not very good at. These women, Muslims and Christians alike, are to be commended because at this school, many of them have been there for a few years and are still plowing the hard soil. As we talked and enjoyed each other’s company, we painted jagged and filthy nails on their hands and feet, and all I wanted was to wash them and do things properly. Water. Oh How we take it for granted. However, I think our fellowship was enjoyed by all. 

Many people will come and go from organizations such as the one I have been involved with this summer, but it makes me sad that there are so many children and so few laps to hold them. I have been told that in Uganda, more than half the population is under 15. I don’t know if this is true or not, but I do know, the need is profound. So, I will do a little here and a little there and trust Jesus with the rest. I will never give up on the dream that Uganda is on God’s heart, just like all of the developing countries, and that in His goodness, and our participation, all good things are possible.