Lessons from Ghana

Shout

2009-05-12T02:53:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I felt led to go outside and pray. I wasn't sure why, but felt I just needed to go and God would let me know. Only, for about an hour I didn't feel like He did, and I was starting to feel rather stupid. I had found this spot where there were giant bleachers and was sitting there trying to read my Bible or pray when nothing seemed particularly inspired.
Suddenly I had the desire to sing "Stronger," which has been my song for the past few weeks. I didn't know the verses well, so I put in my ipod. Then I remembered that I had seen a dance to this song when I had listened to it before which involved a giant stair much like the one I was sitting on. Hmmm. Seemed significant somehow, but I couldn't put my finger on why.
Then the phrase went through my head, "Shout, for the Lord has given you the city." I got really excited. God was going to give me (us, Christians) the city! Something I never really believed would be possible - even though I prayed for it - suddenly seemed real. Then my view of my surroundings totally changed. I saw God's name being lifted high above the city. High above the crowds of people. High above the tallest buildings. I saw it! I saw all the strongholds of Satan, and was able to look them square in the face and sing "You are stronger." I saw all those people one day climbing the stair towards heaven and singing it too.
I turned to Joshua and the battle of Jericho in my Bible. The first verse of chapter 6 leaped out at me. "Now Jericho was tightly shut up because of the Israelites." I saw my city tightly shut up by the forces of Satan, who were terrified of losing their power. Then I saw how God appeared to Joshua and gave him an unorthodox battle plan, one that probably resulted in mass amounts of ridicule for the Israelites while it was being carried out. Then I saw the Israelites marching around the city, claiming their territory and praying. While they were quietly walking, they were lifting God's name high. Then the walls came crumbling down, and all the spoils belonged to God.
In my case, I'm not sure if marching this city means more than praying and lifting God's name high - that's to be determined - but the spoils are the souls. All those are God's! And as far as walls coming tumbling down, every stronghold the enemy has is going to crumble, which might be painful. I'm talking about things like the stock market, or ungodly theaters, or malls, or clubs.
It might be painful, but when it happens, I will shout, for God has given me the city!

My Miracle

2009-05-12T02:25:00.000-07:00

Since the last time I wrote I had had some hard times. Still depressed a lot and often unable to focus. But I had good reason, I thought. The stresses in my life... just one of them would be enough to really upset many people. All things considered, I was surviving rather well.
Then one day I went blind. During class I went completely blind for thirty minutes. The professor went nuts - kind of entertaining. You should try it if you ever have a slow class... kidding! When I could see again, I could only see the bottom half of my regular field of vision, and that half was a mess. Sometimes I saw spots. Sometimes I saw messed-up colors. Sometimes I saw double. It was a complete alternate reality.
After three days in the emergency room, the doctors concluded there was nothing physically wrong with me. I had a rare side effect of post traumatic stress disorder that often happens a year after the trauma (I got back from Ghana in May of 08). Basically, my body had decided I'd seen enough! I was pretty upset. I didn't know what could be going on inside to cause this - I thought I was doing better. To make matters worse, I had decided last summer not to go to counseling, because I felt I just needed to go to God. Like I said in November, I know all the right answers, but they couldn't take away the pain. Only God could do that. Now everyone could see that going to God didn't work.
For three weeks I lived in this alternate visual reality. Let me tell you how hard it is to do homework when you can't read or write! Then one day I got to church early and decided to pray outside for a while. As I was praying, I felt this intense bitterness and anger well up inside of me. It was a Friday night, and people were running around, talking on their cell phones, going to fancy dinners, going out, with no thought that their whole world could collapse in an instant and everything would be gone. I felt hopeless. It wasn't like God couldn't do something with these people, but I didn't see that He was and did didn't believe He would. The feeling bothered me, especially since I realized it's been in me since Ghana. I haven't had the heart to serve God because I lost hope that He'd really do something in the lives of the people I cared about. But, probably like I'd done for a year, I brushed it aside and went to church.
During the alter call I was praying in my seat when God suddenly transported me back to Ghana. There was a moment, about my third week there, when I was really praying about everything I'd seen so far and for everyone I'd met. Then it was like my prayers got bigger and bigger until I was praying for the whole continent. I got completely overwhelmed by the immensity of the problem of Africa in general. I knew God could move, but I didn't see Him working. I remember praying in that moment, "God, show me the hope. You have to show me the hope." I didn't feel like He did. When God brought me back to that moment, I realized that it was there that my hope had died.
Standing there in church, I began to pray the same prayer. "Ok, God," I said, "You showed me this for a reason. Now You have to show me the hope. It's killing me." God said, "Open your eyes."
I opened my eyes, and saw a sea of people down at the alter. Some were praying for each other, others were pouring out their hearts to God, others were smiling a smile that could only be explained by a touch from God. God said, "There's your hope." I realized I'd seen this scene every week, but never seen it for the miracle it was. It was so beautiful - I probably looked sac religious as I just openly stared. God was working in these people's lives.
About ten minutes later I realized my vision had been completely restored.

2009-05-12T02:24:00.001-07:00

Walls

2009-05-11T19:46:00.000-07:00

From 11/28/09...

I've been thinking about walls. I've spent my whole life building them thicker and deeper to protect myself from the outside world. But what I really did was build a wall around my heart, and then I couldn't get to it either. It reminded me of the Israelites and Jericho. God asked them to feel like idiots when they got to that city - and not just for a few moments - for a week. I can imagine some of them were questioning.. How in the world could they trust God? Sure, He parted the Red Sea, but look at what else He'd done. He had made them be slaves for four hundred years. Just ask the African Americans - they'll tell you how hard that is to get over! Then, after a few miracles, He had made them wander in the wilderness for forty years just because they hadn't been capable of trusting Him. Often we're so hard on the Israelites, but I can relate. Sure, God had done some miracles, but He had also allowed some bad stuff to happen. Maybe there was a reason for some of it, but some of the stuff they had gone through would be hard to get over. I would have felt like, "God, I'm supposed to trust you, but you let my ancestors become slaves." I think that the people wanted to trust God, and had made progress, but there was a wall there. There was a wound. They made the choice, however, to step out in faith. They knew anything was better than going back into the wilderness. They stepped out- and the walls came tumbling down!

Lepers

2009-05-11T19:41:00.000-07:00

Written on 11/28/08...

Last night I thought of a great way to describe the state I've been in for the last few months. I've been a leper. It's not like I wanted to rebel or be mad at God and become depressed. I was unable to feel. But God touched me and healed me. Now, just like a leper I've entered into an incredible new life, but it's also a life with pain. I wonder if each leper knew what they were getting into when they asked to be healed, and if they would have wanted to be healed if they had known. I wonder if any of them wanted to go back to being a leper and if God would have let them. For me, I've decided the pain I'm now able to feel is nothing compared to the pain of having no pain. The pain of feeling alone because I couldn't feel anyone or anything touch me.

Breakthrough

2009-05-11T19:23:00.000-07:00

I wrote this on 11/20/2008. Some background - for the past few months I had felt something wasn't right, but I couldn't put my finger on what. I decided that I must be going through a dry time and to keep doing what I knew was right even if I didn't feel like it. Then...

Well, I prayed that God would take me to the next level, and He did. Tonight I went to my Bible study (didn't want to, btw) and there was a guest speaker there. He started by talking about how this was a "divine appointment" and how if God went through the trouble to orchestrate this, He must have something incredible He wants to say to someone. The way He said it, it was actually exciting, not corny. Then he proceeded to talk about Peter, my favorite dude, so I had even higher hopes. But the theme of his talk was surrendering all control to Jesus and letting Him flow through you instead of getting filled up and pouring out (see my blogs about trees). I was furious with him. I was angry that he was talking about how we could impact people's lives and be powerful if we would just let the Spirit flow through us. In my mind I was listing time after time I completely surrendered myself to God (as much as I'm humanly able) and He let me down. I was mad at the speaker for saying what he said, but I was more mad at God for letting me force myself to obey by doing and saying what I knew to be true, when I was constantly "disappointed again."
The problem with being a Christian for a long time and studying the Bible a lot is that you can't even be honestly mad at God. I know all the right answers - God is moving, He's just not doing what I want... Abraham waited ten years but I can't wait ten minutes... Even Peter and Paul had their down times. Since I can't allow myself to be mad at God, I tell myself these things to try to make myself feel better, but sometimes all the logic in the world can't change the way I feel. So I was trying not to cry and trying desperately to find a way to reconcile knowledge and feelings.
When we broke into small groups, I refused to talk. I said after the day I'd had I just wanted to listen. That really made people uncomfortable, but they were great about it. I just didn't want to cry... not there. It occurred to me that I might not be able to cry later if I forced myself to keep in in once more, but I still didn't want to.
When we started praying, I realized this whole thing was about a baby I watched suffocate to death because no one would treat him because he had AIDS. I gave up everything to go to Africa, and for what? To watch a little boy die. Everything in Ghana fell apart after that. Somehow, I felt God had to make it up to me, so I demanded things from Him. Of course, He didn't comply. Since then I've done the right things, said the right truths, and really tried to live with God's Spirit flowing through me. But the truth is I've never been able to trust Him or forgive Him, and I"m not able to love new kids.
By then I was crying, hard. I was still trying to rationalize how God could have let that happen. Suddenly I saw myself holding that baby, and I saw my arms handing him up to Jesus. I shut out the picture - I didn't want to give him up. Then I realized that I needed to allow God to continue the vision no matter how much it hurt. I saw the baby in Jesus' arms, and I was furious. How dare He be holding him! He was mine! But then I started to notice that the baby's face was different. He didn't look sick and emaciated. And he was so happy. His face glowed. He was smiling and clapping his hands and just so happy. Then I heard the words, "It was you who put him there."
I realized that as dramatic as this sounds, I bonded with that baby like he was my own son. Though adopted, he had become my son, and I will never get over his loss. But now i have the image of him with Jesus, and that really helps. I feel the healing has begun.

She's back

2009-05-11T19:20:00.000-07:00

This is the first time I've come back to a blog after I've left it... so you're not rid of me yet! The thing is, Ghana is still affecting my life in numerous ways, so the story isn't over. Maybe it never will be. But now that it's summer and I have time again, I will continue to post my lessons from Ghana as I continue to experience them!

Maybe Today

2008-10-14T14:12:00.001-07:00

I see you from a distance
As you wander through a crowd.
Maybe today.
Maybe today.

I know you wouldn't like it
If I screamed for you out loud.
Maybe today.
Maybe today.

It seems like you might feel me
As I softly call your name.
Maybe today.
Maybe today.

But then you get distracted
And you leave the way you came.
Not today.
Not today.

Sometimes I wish it'd leave me,
All this longing for your love.
Maybe today.
Maybe today.

But then each day I wake up
With a new hope from above.
Maybe today.
Maybe today.

See, loving you is worth it.
It is worth the daily pain.
Maybe today.
Maybe today.

Cause one day I know I'll hold you.
Hold you in my arms again.
Maybe today.
Maybe today.

The Cry is the Same

2008-10-05T03:32:00.001-07:00

The cry of the child who is hungry,
Whose stomach is begging for bread,
Who reaches a hand to a stranger
But knows he will never be fed.
The cry of the child who is lonely,
Who lies all alone in his room,
Whose hopes for a better tomorrow
Have melted away into doom.
The cry is the same.

The cry isn't really from hunger,
Nor is it from fear of great harm.
Each child is missing their father.
They long to be wrapped in his arms.
Their cry is the same.
Their cry is the same.

The cry of the child who is beaten,
Who dreams he will one day know love,
But thinks that the life he is living,
Is proof there is no god above.
The cry of the child who is yelled at,
And told he should not have been born,
Who listens to each lengthy tirade
With eyes that look pained and forlorn.
The cry is the same.

The cry isn't really from sorrow,
Nor is it from lack of self-worth.
The cry is from children who don't know.
The God who created the earth.
Their cry is the same.
Their cry is the same.

Do You Know What It's Like?

2008-08-28T03:54:00.001-07:00

Do you know what it's like
To feel so alone,
Your mind becomes numb as
You cry on your own?
I do.

Do you know what it's like
To have to be strong,
To stand when there's no one,
That you can count on?
I do.

Do you know what it's like,
To face man's disdain,
Your only reward for
A lifetime of pain?
I do.

If you know what that's like,
I wish you could see
The pain that I carried
On Calvary's tree.

If you know what that's like,
Then you've made your choice.
I took that from you
And left you my voice.

Do you know what it's like
When God turns away,
And there's only silence
Whenever you pray.
I do.

He's there

2008-08-23T16:03:00.000-07:00

It's been hard being back at work. For a while I was depressed and didn't know why. My whole tirade on being allowed to fail helped me deal with that problem, but I could tell something else was wrong. So often I felt alone, and no matter how much I prayed and read my Bible, I didn't feel like God was helping. But God was faithful (not as quickly as I wanted Him to be) and showed me what was going on. Turns out I had felt the same way in Ghana. I needed God, and He wasn't there. He didn't help me through the greatest trial of my life.
But you know what? In Ghana at least I had the excuse that I didn't try as hard to be with God as I should have. I stopped doing my devotions and praying regularly when times got rough. I blamed Him for not stopping kids from dying. But it's not that simple. True, I didn't feel God's support because I drifted, but I drifted because I didn't feel God's support. Truth is, I was mad at God for not supporting me the way I wanted to be supported. I begged Him to bring me strong Christian friends. He didn't do that. I begged Him to show me the hope in all the pain and emptiness around me. I never saw any. When He didn't do what I wanted, I got mad at Him and crumbled into despair. I still did what I knew I should do, but there was no joy. I felt alone.
Great revelation, but I didn't know how to deal with what God had just shown me. How do I make myself not feel alone when I feel alone? How do I make myself feel supported when I don't feel supported? The answer came quietly. God told me, "You looked around and didn't see Me. But the trouble was that you were looking around, and I was in you."
It's the same thing in Ghana that it is now. If I go into work hoping to feel God there, I will be disappointed. If I need to see a life changed every day to know God is there, I'll always feel hopeless. If I need strong Christians constantly around me to feel supported, I'm going to feel alone. But I've been looking for God in the earthquake, whirlwind, and fire, when He's never been there. He's in the still small voice that lives in me.
He's always been there, and He will never leave me. You know what's even better? The more I wrap my head around this concept, the more I realize that His voice is all I've ever wanted, and all I'll ever need!

Thinking

2008-08-21T20:10:00.000-07:00

Would I rather have what I want or want what God has for me?

Dreaming Big

2008-08-17T13:50:00.000-07:00

It's not "politically correct" anymore to dream big. Movies like "Emperor's Club" and "Freedom Writers" are considered Holywoodized and unrealistic. One person can't do something that spectacular. I'll give people that think that the concession that people that make the history books are rare - that's why they make the history books. Most of the time people with big dreams eventually settle for something more practical. A man with dreams of inventing a flying car eventually (once he realizes he's out of money) settles for building great car engines and telling himself that he's finally grown up.
In this country, it used to be popular to dream big. We believed we lived in this magical country where anything was possible if we worked hard enough. But we got disillusioned. We started realize that hard work isn't enough. A "wonder teacher" might not be able to do anything because he can't overcome a lifetime of outside influences that call to his children. An inventor might never be able to market his product because he doesn't have the right connections. The new American attitude is to keep expectations low, and maybe some will be lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. We're smarter than we used to be, and have learned the cold, hard truth. We've learned that we're all living under the oppressive wheel of fate.
It's the same kind of thinking that I ran into so thoroughly in Ghana. I was told it was arrogant to think I could make any real difference. I was there to learn, which was code for "learn how you're not as great and knowledgeable as you think you are. They don't really need your help anyway, they're just victims of oppressive Westerners." I was also told I was there to maybe touch the life of one person in some small way - maybe put a smile on a face for a day. But that was all I could hope to accomplish. The problems I would see would be too big for me to solve on my own. How dare I think I can make a difference when so many before me have failed?
So why is it that a whole nation held their breath last night as one 23-year-old swimmer tried to do what no man had ever done before? We all knew that his dreams were unrealistic. There were too many factors beyond his control for him to be able to claim his goal was doable. But he set his goal anyway, and through some incredible skill and a whole lot of "luck," it happened. And a nation cheered. Someone showed us big dreams could come true.
We've been disillusioned. We realize hard work alone doesn't cut it, and that great things rarely happen. But we're desperate to have something to dream about, to reach towards. The problem is that we've forgotten the one who makes everything possible. We do our part, then God comes in with the miracle that makes all the difference. There's no luck. We've lost hope for the incredible because we've lost God. But we want Him. We want to dream again.

Couldn't Find God

2008-08-15T11:09:00.001-07:00

I looked around and saw a child.
She was crippled and alone.
She peered with eyes so dim and haunting
As she nursed her broken bone.
I cried.
I couldn't find God there.

I looked around and saw a lawyer.
He was headed for the top
But though successful, just so empty
That he begged his heart to stop.
I cried.
I couldn't find God there.
But God was there.

I looked around and saw a mother.
She was weeping for her son.
She reached for him with desperate longing,
But she knew he'd never come.
I cried.
I couldn't find God there.
But God was there.
He was in me,
And I was there.

I looked around and saw a people,
Longing for a shred of hope.
They knew they faced such a disaster
That they lost the will to cope.
I cried.
I couldn't find God there.
But God was there.
He came to me,
And sent me there.

You

2008-08-15T08:11:00.000-07:00

I thought I wanted you to move,
To see you answer just one prayer,
But what I really longed to see was
Evidence that you were there.

I thought I wanted earthly wealth,
Enough to feel I am secure.
I was so scared of pain and hardship,
But with you I can endure.

For every time you answer yes,
A million dreams will not come true.
But you desire me to follow
Not for wonders, but for you.

I thought I wanted to be great,
To silence every cry or groan,
But what you promised me instead was
I would never be alone.

I thought I wanted fancy signs,
To tell the sick they would be healed,
But that would never satisfy me.
I just long to know you're real.

For every time I feel frustration,
As I watch what you just won't do,
You always give me strength to follow,
Not for wonders, but for you.

How Did I Get Here?

2008-08-12T12:38:00.000-07:00

Going back to work has been "fun" in a variety of ways [check out 8-post tirade about why I failed]. I've felt helpless to deal with some of the emotions that dealing with non-Christians has brought to the surface. While I was in my "Jesus bubble" (only socializing with family and people from church) I went on an incredible journey with God. But suddenly I feel I've arrived in a place that doesn't follow the progression of what God has been showing me. It's out of context with what I've been experiencing. Yesterday I was looking over this blog - reading about everything God has taught me - and I felt like I was heading one place but ended up in another. And this place is painful. I don't want to be here. Nothing on the road I've experienced so far seems applicable now, so how did I end up here?
I only get one answer. Everything God has been having me go through has brought me to this point. I don't understand it, but I do know my faith has been strengthened enough that this answer had freeing power for me. I don't understand how the road led me here, but I know God has never failed me, and He never will.

Leaving God

2008-08-12T12:22:00.000-07:00

When I started going back to work, I immediately started to drift away from God. Maybe it's just simply that I don't have the time I used to, and the time I do have now feels more rushed. I relate to God best in calmness, not in snippets of time here or there, or a longer space of time when I'm exhausted. Anyway, all along I've been concerned that I would lose the intimacy I've attained when things got busy, and I sense that already happening. Last night I was trying to pray, but it just wasn't feeling right. I couldn't get calm and quiet in His presence. Suddenly my heart cried out, "God, I'm so scared I'm going to leave you." I had this picture in my head of myself clinging to the face of a cliff, trying desperately to hang on as I'm slipping downwards. This doesn't normally happen to me, but I heard an audible voice answer my cry. The voice said, "I got you."
Do you know how comforting to know that no matter what I do, God won't let me go?

Gotta Laugh

2008-08-09T16:30:00.000-07:00

There's a popular saying that you gotta laugh to keep from crying. While I was in Ghana and right after I came home, I said it almost every-other sentence. You know what? I never want to hear those words again. All the time I was in Ghana I never cried. I was actually famous for my lack of tears and for my ready laughter. But it didn't feel good. When I see pain like that again, I want to cry. I want to cry hard.

Why I Failed, A Summary

2008-08-09T16:27:00.000-07:00

I'll admit it. I want bizerk. I had gone with an open mind instead of preconceived notions of what it would be like over there, and that was a mistake. Instead of observing what I had already decided would be good, I evaluated what I saw. Unfortunately, there were times really looking at my surroundings resulted in an encounter with the horrific.
That's why I failed.

Why I Failed, Part VI

2008-08-09T16:23:00.000-07:00

Ghanians were willing to do hard labor all day to make a product worth maybe 40 cents. I had a problem with that.

Ghanians saw marriage and childbearing as status symbols, whether either was affordable at the present time or not. I had a problem with that.

Ghanians would do anything to get to a more developed country because they had no hope that they could become prosperous in their own. I had a problem with that.

Ghanians didn't see why it was a problem to live in rat-infested conditions. I had a problem with that.

Ghanian businessmen wouldn't compete with each other because any ill-will might open them up to voodoo curses. I had a problem with that.

Ghanians felt the rich were obligated to help out the poor. I had a problem with that.

That's why I failed.

Why I Failed, Part V

2008-08-09T16:01:00.000-07:00

I made a friend from a local university. One day he shared with me why so few Ghanians go to a university, even though the cost of tuition is relatively low. He told me that in Ghana, it's impossible to work and go to school at the same time. On further questioning, he explained that most businesses required their employees to work regular hours and wouldn't accommodate a class schedule. When I asked about night classes, he admitted that there are some, but told me that after working all day people are tired, and couldn't possibly be expected to then attend a night class.
I know it's not politically correct to disagree with the work ethic of a culture, so I probably broke every rule in the book. It's unfortunate for my friend that I killed myself to work my way through school under the standards of a culture that didn't mind such things. Let's hope it never gets out that I suggested that there might be a problem with his (and his country's) philosophy on working through school. I should have kept in mind that each way of thinking is just different, not wrong... even if it prevents people from receiving the benefits of a university education. How could I forget that? How could I care that a lack of determination to further themselves despite overwhelming odds would hold them back? Those were my morals, not theirs.
That's why I failed.

Why I Failed, Part IV

2008-08-09T15:20:00.000-07:00

I'm in Kumasi, learning about one of the most famous symbols of Asanti power and a national symbol of Ghanian pride. We are on one of our "cultural outings," being educated on the history of a people we would never hear about if we weren't given this opportunity to experience Africa. So far I've learned that before colonial rule, the Asanti kingdom was quite formidable, ruling much of West Africa. They believed the source of their power came from their direct connection to their god, who manifested his presence to them in the form of a golden stool. In this museum, I hear the history of how the British tried to confiscate this stool, therefore breaking the power of the Asanti kingdom, but the Asanti fooled them by giving them a replica instead. I watch videos of the stool on parade in all its splendor, complete with garlands draped over it and women dancing in front of it. I see photos of this stool sitting on a throne next to the great Asanti chief. As long as this stool is in lace, the Asanti kingdom will have power and unity. Yes, what a great and interesting; what a unique cultural heritage these people have.
People around me dutifully look interested. Some really get into this stuff, some just want to get through the tour and to the markets. But all appreciate the ability to go home having been enriched by learning about the fascinating intricacies of another culture.
Hold on! Rewind! Freeze! Has anyone stopped to notice that these people are paying homage to a chair? Has anyone thought about the fact that these people think the secret to their greatness is a chair? Does it bother anyone to see intelligent people dancing in front of and adoring a chair? Am I alone in thinking that this could be a problem?
Apparently.
That's why I failed.

Why I Failed, Part III

2008-08-09T13:01:00.001-07:00

"He's in a better place, and now you can use his death to inspire you. Do something dramatic to help the situation and dedicate your efforts to him."

I hope I never hear a statement like that again. I had just witnessed a senseless death. People told me he never had a chance, which is probably true. They told me that it was another example of life being unfair, which is definitely true. But that doesn't change the fact that several people used what they told me as excuses not to do everything in their power to save him. They recognized that what happened to him was terrible, but they weren't going to waste their time on a lost cause. And why should they, when there was so much else to do and kids die every day?
Based on the environment we were in, that logic actually made sense, in a defeatist sort of way. But it didn't take into account that this was a life - a precious little life that was by definition worth saving. When I brought up this point the shook my heads in pity of the spoiled little white girl who couldn't accept some of the basic facts of life.
I did everything I could to save him, not because I felt he had a good chance of surviving or because it was easy. I worked to save him on principle... and because I loved him. When he died, I suppose I could have comforted myself with the fact that I tried my best against impossible odds. I could have shrugged, said TIA (this is Africa), and moved on like the other people I worked with. I could have listened to the many voices who told me not to be sad, but to use his death to motivate me to help others with more of a chance. But I didn't, because I had allowed my heart to love a little boy - a boy no one else thought worth their time.
That's why I failed.

Why I Failed, Part II

2008-08-09T02:44:00.000-07:00

It's my first Saturday in Ghana, and I'm going to visit my first rural African village. The past five days have been such a whirlwind that I haven't even thought about what to expect. At this point I'm just kind-of going with the flow, trying to take it all in. When the bus arrives at our destination, I'm immediately overcome with expectation as all the village children run towards us. This is why I came to Africa! This is my calling!
We have to sit through this elaborate welcoming ceremony. First they show us how they pray both to the Christian God and to the god they worshipped before missionaries reached them. I'm not really paying attention - I'm photographing the children. Then they show us how they dance. One little girl is beautiful and adorable, but the rest is a little boring. It looks to me like it's a little thrown together, though I seem to be the only one who notices. I must just have high expectations because I'm used to professional dancing back in the States. But no matter. I'm watching the dancers getting ready to go on, seeing how nervous they are and how seriously they seem to be taking this. I'm looking at the faces of the rest of the village as they watch. They carry the attitude of people who have seen it all, but wouldn't dare hint that they could think of a better way to spend their day. It's like I'm watching a ballet company trying to make their forty-first Nutcracker look fresh to impress the President in the audience. Slightly strange to me - I expected this type of thing to be a fun break from their routine, not a chore.
Next comes the naming ceremony. This ceremony was enough to impress upon us all the significance of being in an African culture. We were moved by the fact that someone in the village had taken the time to come up with a name for us, make us a string of beads, and make us a customized pot. And if we weren't already overwhelmed by the efforts of the village to reach out to us, being adopted by a family in the village did the trick. However, there's something about the ceremony that really stood out to me. The man officiating kept telling us to use the stuff we were given and the story of our experience to get money from the US to send back to them. And he said that if we ever wanted to come ourselves and help, they would provide us with a house, labor for our gardens, and anything else we needed. Often the individual families adopting people reiterated these words with speeches of their own.
I spent the rest of the day entertaining children with my camera and enjoying every minute of it. I didn't realize until later that my interpretation of the day's events didn't match anyone else's.
My roommate later helped me to understand how the others were feeling about the day. She spoke of how much it meant to her that the village put off whatever they had to do to take a day to welcome us. She was impressed with the care that went into the preparation of the pot and beads and was touched that they would be willing to take the time to adopt us all individually. She loved their selflessness and how honored they made her feel. She thought Americans could learn a great deal from their ways.
I guess I'm just a cynic who could never believe anyone had selfless motives and really wanted to treat me like royalty just for the sake of it. I must be so corrupted by our consumer-driven society that I can't believe someone would be so willing to accommodate my moving to their village because they were such friendly people. See, I saw the entire show as an example of the despair these people felt. Their lives were so stricken by poverty and they felt so powerless to do anything about it themselves that were willing to do anything to get help from outsiders. Everything they did I saw as a desperate attempt to get American aid - a heart-breaking cry for help. I was filled with sorrow at what poverty and hopeless had reduced these people to, and how pathetic it was that they would beg any group of young Americans to help them.
My roommate felt loved, and saw a slower and more caring way of life. I felt desperation and saw a show put on the same way it was put on for every other visitor in the hopes that one day it would pay off.
That's why I failed.

Why I Failed, Part I

2008-08-09T02:27:00.000-07:00

"How was Ghana?"
"Ghana sucked!"
Just once, I'd like to respond with those words - to be able to speak the cold, hard truth. Sometimes I'd like to take their rich, smiling faces and shove them into a pile of dirt... Ghanian dirt. I'd like to show them the kids that didn't make the photographs. It's not just that they weren't cute, though that's part of it, it's that they were forgotten. I'd like to show them the village leaders who sat so proud on their seats and showed off all the glorious cultural practices of their village in an attempt to shamelessly beg us for help. A grand chief who wouldn't let his wife touch his footstool, but would do anything to get help from a tiny American girl. I'd like to show them the cab drivers, the trinket sellers, the food venders - all of whom feel they work their hardest every day with no hope of ever improving their lot in life. And I'd like to show them a country full of people who have simply given up. The only thing they will fight for anymore is the chance to escape it all by coming to a country they partially blame for their plight.
But it wouldn't do any good. You know why? Because it's been done. I traveled with a group of spoiled white, rich, people who wanted to experience the plight of the "less fortunate." But though they walked where I walked and saw what I saw, they didn't experience what I experienced at all. They saw methods for doing things that appeared completely haphazard by our standards, yet still produced results. An example of how different people do things differently but one way isn't better than another. They marveled at a level of patience that would enable someone to wait two hours for public transportation. An example of a slower-paced, less-stressed life. They loved and were flattered by the efforts people went to make them feel welcome and accepted in Ghana. An example of a culture that honored people more than material things. They laughed at customs that were "quaint" or "interesting" but never wrong and certainly never harmful. Why did I, the one who did everything, accepted everything, and became the most immersed in the culture, come away the most disillusioned by a people who thought I should instead be impressed? The others were impressed? Was I that much more spoiled, and my expectations just too high?
I talk to people. I relate to people. When I really take the time to be with someone, I feel what they feel. Often I even feel the motive for their actions. It's a gift, but in Ghana I think it was a curse. See, I didn't go there to "see how uncomfortable I could be without breaking." I didn't want to enjoy the experience of another culture and learn how all of us are equally good and all cultures are equally valid. I wanted to learn about the people so I could know how to help them. I listened to what they wanted me to hear, but I also listened to the cry of their heart. I listened to the defeatism, the victimization, the justification, and ultimately, the despair.
And that's why I failed.

Odd Set of Blogs

2008-08-09T02:20:00.001-07:00

The next few blogs might appear completely random and rather depressing. They are. Apparently, there's a whole facet of my trip that needed processing that didn't surface until I went back to work and had to talk to people about my experience. I discovered that people only want to hear a dramatic success story or that I had a great "experience." At first I thought the pressure was on me - that people expected great things of me - but I think that's only part of the story. People, no matter how much they try to hide it, are still racist and think that one white person can swoop in and make an incredible difference in the lives of people in developing nations. Either that, or they don't really care about the people at all and think I went over there to learn a lot about myself and how much I can put up with. Either way, how could my trip have been anything but a success?
But my trip wasn't a success. It was a colossal failure. I didn't swoop in as a dramatic savior, and I didn't find out how strong I was. I broke.
Both over there and after I got home, I felt I had to pretend everything was fine and that things were going well. I guess that pretending everything was wonderful while thinking about all the horrors hurt me more than I could have imagined. So I'm looking for a release - an opportunity to be honest about what happened without people tossing me off as "too religious" or just too depressing.
I failed, and this is why.

Some Thoughts

2008-08-06T03:09:00.001-07:00

Dreaming and praying don't have to be separate activities It's fun to dream about how God might accomplish His purposes, all the time knowing the reality will surpass the dream.

When I decide what to pray about by myself, I'm deciding what I want God to be doing. When I let Him decide, I'm allowing Him to include me in His plans.

Ok or Extraordinary

2008-08-06T03:03:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I get impatient, but God keeps reminding me that His timing's better than mine. I can have "ok" now or "extraordinary" at the right time. You know, I kind-of get the feeling that if I told God I couldn't stand to wait any longer, He would give me the "ok" and not hold it against me. But I would always regret the fact that I couldn't wait, and wonder what I had missed by settling.
I wonder how many people live in God's "ok." It's better than living without Him, but I want extraordinary. I want all God has to offer, and with His help I'm willing to wait for it.

Working Together

2008-08-05T12:41:00.000-07:00

I've been struggling with how to handle praying for things when I haven't received a promise that they'll come to pass. I can get really depressed if I'm praying for something that I know could never happen because God doesn't force people to do anything. I always say that when a situation seems impossible, God makes the impossible possible. But how can I hope in that when the impossible might remain the impossible due to the fallen nature of this world? For example, God has given me no promise that China will ever stop persecuting Christians or that its government leaders will repent and try to turn their country around. Yet I'm supposed to pray for them... right???
After thinking about things, I'm not so sure I need to be praying for Christians in China. I'm not so sure we're supposed to try to cover absolutely everything in our prayers. To the best of my knowledge, Jesus never walked into a village and asked all those who needed to be healed to come forward. Instead, He dealt with those who came to Him or were brought. In fact, perhaps when the Bible says He couldn't do many signs and wonders in Nazareth because of a lack of faith, maybe this means that people didn't bother to bring their sick to Him, not that He refused to heal the sick who came. Actually, I'm guessing those who came were demonstrating faith just by coming!
All this to say, maybe we're just supposed to pray for what God brings us. This "bringing" can be in the form of people who we come into physical contact with and God puts them on our heart, or it could be a picture in a magazine that jumps out at us, or simply a burden God gives us. However He does it, if God tells me specifically to pray for something, I can be confident that there's a reason, even if I never see it. That helps. It also helps me not feel like I have to pray for absolutely everything, and therefore feel guilty if I don't pray for any martyrs for weeks.
You know, this makes me feel more like I'm joining in Christ's work, instead of begging Him to work. Though I'm not always sure what prayer does, God and I are doing something together, and that's a fun thought.

Christmas

2008-08-01T08:15:00.001-07:00

Using the Christmas analogy has caused me to revisit my feelings on the holiday (I know it's August, but whatever).
When I was little, I used to really look forward to Christmas, like any kid. I would lie awake at night, full of excitement at the prospect of getting this or that. I would crawl among the presents with my siblings, counting the gifts for me and trying to guess what was in them. Then one year, I decided the excitement was painful - that I couldn't stand the agony of waiting. I decided to try to forget Christmas was coming. In later years, this feeling grew to a hatred of the entire season because it seemed pointless. What changed?
I began to realize the opening of the presents was always a let-down because it never satisfied my expectations. I didn't feel fulfilled when I received because the present wasn't what I wanted or it didn't make my life that much better. I didn't feel fulfilled when I gave because I didn't feel the gift was appreciated. Either I gave something the person didn't really like, or they liked it but it was just one special thing among many. I tried to get into the "joy of the season" and appreciate Christ's birth, but just couldn't. I couldn't get past the useless materialism.
God's gifts aren't like Christmas. When He gives me something, it won't be a let-down. It will be better than my wildest hopes and will fulfill me. I don't have to have reservations about waiting for them with excitement. I don't have to talk myself out of hope so I won't be disappointed. I won't be disappointed.
And when I give God's gifts, I can know that I'm giving someone the perfect gift - His life. That's even better than receiving it!

Praying for the Promise

2008-08-01T06:33:00.000-07:00

If God's promises are like done deals, why do we pray about them? If I have been promised that this person will come to Christ, for example, why constantly pray and ask God for this person's salvation? I've been bothered by this for a while and have come up with a couple of reasons:
1) Preparation - perhaps God will use me when He fulfills a promise, and I need to be prepared. In the salvation example, perhaps praying for the person keeps me in tune with God's plans for them and helps me be ready to act when God's ready to move.
2) Sensitivity - perhaps as I pray for a specific person, God fills me with His presence in a way that will speak to them as it pours out. He fills me with His heart for a particular person, allowing me to demonstrate the aspect of God's character that will speak to their specific needs most effectively.
I'm sure there's some truth to the above reasons, but God showed me something more. Again, both focus on prayer as a passive means to an active end. Doing instead of being again. As silly as this sounds (to me anyway), I wonder if the answer lies in the Christmas present analogy from "He Did It." My parents loved watching their children anticipate Christmas. They loved to tease us about what we thought we'd be getting ("that package is a box of dead flies" was a favorite of my father's). They knew our excitement for the big day made us enjoy the experience for the whole month of December, and made the present more special when we finally got it. And as we waited and anticipated, they shared in our happiness. God is the ultimate parent. I can't help but think that He enjoys hearing us talk about what He's going to give us with eager anticipation.
If my theory is true, how it must hurt Him if we don't believe He really wants to give something to us, or we start to think that He wasn't going to give it to us after all, or that we need to whine and beg for it in order to convince Him to give it to us. We ruin the fun. Christmas morning will still come, but we missed out on one of the best parts of the promise.
Have you ever met one of those people you love to give stuff to because they're so genuinely excited about it? I want to be that way with God.

He Did It

2008-08-01T05:32:00.000-07:00

God gave me a freeing word that when He promises something, I don't have to wait and hope that He will do it. I don't even have to pay it into existence. It's already done. What I'm waiting for is to see a revelation of that promise. I kind of always imagined a promise from God was like Him showing me His plans. But now God has shown me that His promises are like Him buying me a Christmas present. Let me explain...
If God shows me His plans, I trust that He will carry them out. However, there is room for doubt. Maybe He will only carry them out if enough people make themselves available to him. Maybe He will only carry them out if I stay close to Him. Whatever the case might be, God hasn't done it yet, and whether or not it's in God's character to do so, He has the option of changing His mind. I do believe there are things God wants to do that are contingent on the behavior of His people, but then these things aren't promises. Promises don't have a contingency clause.
If God's promise is a present, He's already bought it. Now He's just waiting for the right day to give it to me. It's done. It's finished. There's nothing I or anyone else can do to get in the way of God doing something He already did.
I'm reminded of the cross. God didn't promise He would forgive our sins - He did. All I have to do is open the present. Now, I suppose I could reject God's other promises to me just as easily as I could reject His forgiveness. But that would be stupid!
Then again, people (believers and unbelievers) refuse to accept the promises of God all the time. People do stupid things every day. And my heart breaks for them.

Tree Experience

2008-07-30T04:23:00.000-07:00

For the last two days, I felt like I was on an incredible high with God. It was amazing, but almost too much. His presence was with me so strongly that I felt like I was bursting - and that began to hurt after a while. I knew better than to ask God to back off for a while, but I wanted to. I felt like I was on a crazy roller-coaster and was ready to get off and calm down again.
Then, last night in church God reminded me that I'm a tree. I'm a medium of His presence. He also reminded me that He would make me able to be poured out for Him. I was like, ok, God better show me who to pour on, quick!
Not an hour later, He did show me who to pour on. For the first time in my life, I felt I had the strength before I needed it, and I wasn't drained after an incredibly intense process. I felt like I had just enough again.
It just made me think - when God overflows the blessing, I need to be looking for who to give it to instead of keeping it for myself or asking God to take it back. Maybe that's why God doesn't bless His people more - He needs them to be trees or it's wasted.

God is with Me

2008-07-30T04:13:00.000-07:00

Today I took steps to go back to the job I had before I went to Ghana. All this entailed was walking into the building and speaking to my boss. While in Ghana and while not doing anything but serving God through opportunities that came to me, I forgot how hard it is for me to deal with some pressures. I constantly fight thoughts that tell me that I'm not performing well enough, or that people pretend to like me to be polite but really can't stand me, or that I'm blowing it. It's the constant feeling that I'm not good enough, and if I'm successful, it's luck and could change in an instant.
As I walked into the building where I used to work, I was shaking. I would have to face people and would have to face whether I would be welcomed back. As I shook, I prayed, "God, nothing I've learned from my isolation with you in any way helps me with what I'm going through now." God has dealt with me about patience, love, humility, faith, etc, but I felt like He didn't ever address anxiety. However, as I walked through the door, I heard the words, "I'm here, and that's all that matters." I had peace from that moment on. Later, I started to see why.
I don't have to worry about what people think of me, and I don't have to worry about how I perform. There's only one approval that matters. God can't manifest His presence in garbage. That doesn't mean I'm something special to earn the privilege of having Him dwell with and in me. That means I'm something special because of what He made me when I allowed Him to have my life. And whether the world recognizes me as special or whether they see me as a fool, it doesn't matter. God's view of me is the only thing that does, and He sees me as someone worth saving and being with.

1 Cor 13

2008-07-28T16:18:00.000-07:00

Last night I read 1 Cor 13 - the famous chapter that gets quoted at weddings so often on one can stand to hear it anymore. But it actually is a really good chapter, so please indulge me as I explore it.
As I read about love, I realized that I don't trust feelings. I trust a my knowledge that God loves me, but when I feel that love, I have in the back of my mind that the feeling won't last. But there's one problem with poo-pooing the side of love that's a feeling - I wouldn't be with God if I didn't feel He loved me. Yes, there are times when I don't feel the love, but if I never did, there'd be no incentive to be a Christian.
But if love is a feeling, how can I trust it? Right now I can feel it, but what happens when it fades? Nothing in my life is anything without it. I've written before that I can go on because God is, but I really mean that I can go on because God is love. If He were grace, whoopie. So my sins are forgiven. What does that get me except the promise that I'll fly around some after I die? If He were truth? so what? I would have the right answer, but no reason to care. I'm looking for a feeling.
That feeling can be combined with knowledge that God loves me, but if I go for long enough with just knowledge, I'll die of misery. The knowledge that God is love whether I feel it or not isn't the kind of knowledge I think is helpful. The kind of knowledge that helps is the knowledge that when I don't feel it, I know where to go looking for it.
I can't live for the knowledge of love, and if I don't have it I certainly can't spread it. But I don't have to be scared of this feeling. God's love is the one feeling that can be trusted, because He is love. God is always there, and so is His love.

A Story, Part IV

2008-07-28T13:17:00.000-07:00

After God showed this girl that she could survive when He wasn't moving - even learn to enjoy the quiet times - He brought her into a period of activity. She was so grateful to finally see Him move again. The times at His feet were valuable, but working with Him was so much more fun... for a while. After about a week she started to feel like God moving wasn't all it was cracked up to be. The initial excitement wore off, and it became another form of work. Suddenly those times of sitting on the bed and praying for hours didn't seem so bad.
Something prompted her to go back and look at the moment God revealed Himself to her. She pointed to her miracle. But God showed her she was wrong. God wasn't answering her prayer when she got chills down her spine. He wasn't even proving His reality when He planted a seed of life in her the first time she prayed. God showed her He was real that day He woke her up. He answered her prayer before she had the ability to speak the words.
In that moment, she knew that God doesn't move when she sees action. He moves through His voice. He moved the day He promised Abraham a son, not the day Isaac was born. When God says something, it is, even if we don't see it until later. That quiet voice is the most powerful force in the universe.
God showed this girl that His voice is the only thing that matters. It doesn't just see her through moments when He's not doing what she wants. It doesn't just give her patience when she's waiting for Him to do anything at all. It's there, it will always be there, and it was there before she had the ability to hear it. It's there in the stillness and it's there in every earthquake, whirlwind, and fire. That voice is the God she fell in love with, though she didn't know it then. It's not just good enough to get her through a hard time, it's better than the best time. It's all she will ever need. That voice proves God is real.
And that voice will never leave her, no matter what. Who could ask for more?

A Story, Part III

2008-07-28T13:07:00.000-07:00

Over time, the girl learned to think of God in terms of who He was. At first she learned to trust Him when He didn't move in a way she liked. Then she learned to trust Him when He didn't move at all, because she knew He had some reason she couldn't understand.
But then she face a situation where He wasn't moving, wasn't moving, and still wasn't moving. She waited until she could stand it no more. She knew His timing was perfect, but if He didn't give her some hope, she would die before she saw her faith realized. She could only trust so long while waiting for Him to move before she began to doubt that He ever would.
That's when she heard a song she'd known since childhood. "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord, God, Almighty, who was and is and is to come," an elderly black woman sang softly. The words gripped her mind, pushing out all doubt, freeing her from all fear. God wasn't holy because of what He did in the past to change her life. God wasn't holy because of what He was doing now (or wasn't doing). God wasn't even holy because of what He would do if she had the patience to wait. He was holy because he WAS. In that moment, and in every moment, He was there. She shouldn't go to Him for what He would do, but to spend time with a God who forever IS.
God's presence washed over her. "God," she prayed, "I don't need you to do anything... ever. I realize that all my life, all I've ever wanted was to know that you're with me." After that, whenever she started to get depressed or impatient, she learned to pray, "God, You're here, and that's all that matters."
She thought of the story of Elijah, when he saw the earthquake, whirlwind, and fire, but God was in the voice. She realized that she wanted to see God's power, she wanted to see Him move. But what she was really looking for wasn't His glory but His voice - a voice that would stay with her no matter what happened. Moments are fun, but they don't last.

A Story, Part II

2008-07-28T12:57:00.000-07:00

This girl walked with God for a while, sharing with everyone how He had changed her life. She talked about how she discovered life the day He showed her He was real. She shared about how it took a while for her to realize just how great He was, because it took a while for her to let Him have His way in every aspect of her life. At first, she just wanted Him to fit into it and make all her plans amazing. But as she finally released control, He showed her that His plans weren't compatible with hers. Though the life changes He made her go through were painful, she learned that when she let Him do what He wanted, He did something far more wonderful than what she had in mind for herself. She learned that when she didn't see how His idea could possibly be good, if she waited she would see that it was actually amazing. She learned to trust Him when He didn't give her what she wanted, because she learned not to want what He didn't want to give her. What a glorious testimony of a victorious Christian, whose life was changed when God answered two weeks worth of prayers with a single revelation.
Then one day her faith was challenged almost to the breaking point. She was faced with a situation where she knew that if God didn't do what she wanted, it wasn't because He had something better in mind. She knew what she wanted was the will of God, yet she knew He wouldn't do it if it meant forcing Himself on someone else. But if things in this world could go wrong - terribly wrong - where did that leave her? Could she suffer under a plan God didn't intend because God chose not to act? Could she trust God would work everything for good when she saw sometimes He didn't?
The answer came quietly. She could never trust God because of what He did, because she could never understand His ways. But she knew He was good. She could trust God because He was good.
The answer satisfied her and got her through her crisis, but it would take years for her to understand the full significance of the concept. In fact, she's now sure she will never fully understand. However, each day God shows her a little more of what it means to trust Him for who He is, not for what He does. For now, that's enough.

A Story, Part I

2008-07-28T06:23:00.000-07:00

About three years ago, a young girl "found herself" and discovered there was nothing there.
She had abandoned God years before, deciding He was irrelevant. Though she had grown up as a Christian, the only good she saw it did her was that it helped her achieve success. It made her work hard (do everything to the glory of God), helped her brown-nose those in high places (respect those in authority), and kept her from ruining her life with drugs and sex (your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit.) However, in high school she had discovered that she could follow all Christian morals that helped her get ahead without doing the inconvenient stuff. She didn't have to get up early on Sunday to go to church. She didn't have to be honest when the truth hurt. She didn't have to be a goody-goody when she could fool everyone into thinking she was. She didn't have to take time out to read the Bible and pray. Essentially, she didn't have to follow rules when there was no benefit to doing so. God and Christianity were nothing more than a bunch of good ideas, and those who didn't embrace these ideas were just plain stupid.
For all of high school, her way of looking at the world worked for her. By the time she graduated, she had risen to the top and had been given a life most girls would kill for. She had a job that was the envy of any American female waiting for her in an exciting new city. She would have her own apartment, set up according to her dreams. She had been able to look at all those who thought she would fail and shoved her glorious success in their face. She had everything she had ever wanted.
So how did life get so bad so quickly? How in the world could this kind of girl battle clinical depression? How in the world could she be a walking shell of a person within four months? With all her energy focused on existing, she wasn't even capable of realizing she was dead.
As this deadness took hold of her, her dreams became curses. The job became something that took more energy than she could give it, and it left her empty every night. Most nights she fell asleep wondering how she could go back the next morning. The wonderful apartment became a cage. She found no joy in it but couldn't find an incentive to go anywhere else for a few hours. And her success vanished as she became incapable of achieving anything close to her potential.
One day everything changed - and this could only be explained by the grace of God. That which was dead woke up. It woke up, looked around, and asked what had gone wrong. In that moment, this girl remembered whisperings from her childhood, and turned to a God she had thought she didn't need. First she read her Bible, but the words were as dead on the page as they had always been. "Lord," she cried, "show me that you're real. If you're not - if this is all there is - then my life is meaningless."
She thought maybe lightning would strike. Perhaps she'd be knocked to the ground, "slain in the Spirit" like she'd seen happen in churches when she was young. Perhaps tears would stream down her face as she felt a tingly sensation of pleasure overwhelm her. She didn't know exactly what she expected, but she expected something. Instead, she sent her prayer to the ceiling, then eventually fell asleep. She never noticed a seed of life had been planted.
Over the next two weeks, her miracle eluded her. She waited for indisputable proof that He was real, but none came. Yet each night her prayer never weakened. In fact, it got stronger and more desperate. She knew He was real, and was determined to hound Him until He showed Himself to her. She would seek with all her heart. She wouldn't give up. She would show Him she meant business. She would show Him that she was willing to work hard enough to be worthy of His time. She had no other choice, if she wanted to go on living.
Despite her spiritual disappointments, she did notice she was becoming more alive. She began to see a reason to go to work every morning. She started to be able to enjoy things. People started to notice a difference in her performance. Slowly, her life was building to a climax. After two weeks, her miracle happened. When it happened, she was so overcome with awe and terror at the reality of God that she knew she would never be the same again.
God had waited until she was almost ready to give up, but He had eventually come through. In that moment, He revealed Himself to her. She would tell this story as her testimony for three years.
But one day she would look back and realize things weren't as they had seemed.

Losing Interest in Devotions

2008-07-25T21:02:00.000-07:00

As I've gotten more active in serving God, I've been shocked at how quickly I've lost interest in doing personal devotions. For some reason, my flesh is convinced that it's much more fun to serve God than to just be with Him. People in romantic relationships often feel that though it's fun to go to parties or whatever with their loved one, the best times are when they can be alone. Yet with God, the opposite seems to be true. I used to think I avoided facing God because of some sin I didn't want to give up, but I don't think that's completely true. Maybe I think of some sin to use as an excuse for why I'm avoiding devotions, but there's something more that keeps me away from God. I think it's so easy to stop looking up and start looking around. I wrote before that I've seen how easy it is to start taking credit for gifts, but it's also easy to get selfish about serving. It's easy to want to help because I don't want to see suffering, or because I want to have a feeling of fulfillment. Such sneaky ways to take my eyes off God! But whatever the reason, the moment it becomes about me I lose interest in being with God.
However, when I start working for myself, I lose everything! I lose God, and I lose the fulfillment that only He can give. Suddenly, it has become obvious to me why I feel my strength runs out. God's love, power, strength, etc is endless, but I have to stay near the supply. True, sometimes I want to do things in my own strength for the glory or whatever, but there are other times that I want to do things in God's strength, but I feel it isn't enough. It's because I move away from the source. I start looking around and forget to look up... until I get exhausted and depressed and begin to wonder what went wrong.

Confession

2008-07-22T04:00:00.000-07:00

I feel better about myself when I'm suffering. I don't want to spend money not because any money I save I can send to Africa to feed children, but because I feel guilty about having so much when others have so little. But I realized that my suffering doesn't do anything to help anyone. I could do these children so much good if I prayed for them, but I see now that my goal isn't really to help them. It's not about them at all. It's about me, and feeling good about myself. When I deny myself I'm not honoring God, I'm feeding my pride.
I might never be able to explain why God has blessed me with a roof over my head and enough food to function properly. I don't know why I have the opportunity to get the best education this world has to offer, and can access every resource necessary to accomplish any goal I might set for myself. But it does me no good to try to get rid of these blessings in the name of fairness. Instead, God gave me these blessings so I could bless others.

Impossible

2008-07-22T03:54:00.001-07:00

Impossible that God created
As He spoke a single word
A world beautifully complicated.
But by faith I can believe.

Impossible that God is plural
Father, Spirit, and a Son
Reigning in a realm eternal.
But by faith I will believe.

Impossible that God would love me
While I was a slave to sin
Dying so I could be set free.
But by faith I do believe.

A Word

2008-07-20T16:11:00.000-07:00

Today my pastor spoke about believers who go through trials. He brought up people like Paul, who went through ridiculous trials for the sake of the Gospel. When we look at stories like his, we don't understand why God allowed him to go through so much. Lines like "God was making him stronger" wear thin pretty quickly, because after a while you want to go, "God, wasn't he strong enough? When is enough enough?" Lines like, "God used his suffering to reach people for His kingdom" also wear thin. We know God could have orchestrated things differently if He had chosen to.
My pastor came to the conclusion that we humans will never be able to fully understand the suffering of the righteous. However, God had spoken a word to him that made him feel the suffering he was going through had an incredible purpose. I could tell he was totally liberated by this word. The problem is, the word did nothing for me. Though my trials are nothing compared to Paul's or my pastor's, I've had my share. And I felt the word God has given me is very different, though no less satisfactory to me than my pastor's was to him. And I've spoken to other people with still another freeing word.
So what am I to think? Are we all off? Should we all try to figure out which word is right and speak it to all who suffer? I don't think so. I think that my pastor's right when he says we can't humanly comprehend suffering. I don't think any word in the world would do any good if it weren't for the One who spoke it. We are comforted by a word because we are hearing the voice of our Savior, and He's telling us He's in control and He has a reason. The individual word applies to our particular circumstances, but in the end I don't think it really matters. What matters is that God is real, and He speaks to us.

Glimpses of God

2008-07-19T06:10:00.000-07:00

Today I made a list of all the things that come easily to me - things I used to take for granted but now recognize as incredible gifts from God. It was an incredible experience, for I found that each gift showed me a glimpse of what God is like. Certain gifts, like a natural compassion for kids, are regularly thought of as ways to show an aspect of God's character, so no surprise there. But others, like anything artistic, I feel are often overlooked. These gifts speak of His incredible creativity, His zest for life, and His sense of humor.
It's funny because I used to beg God to show me more of what He was like - what made Him laugh, or what His favorite color was. I never dreamed the answers lay in the gifts I ignored because I didn't credit God with granting them to me. I thought that by claiming God's gifts as my own natural ability, I would gain a sense of fulfillment. But in reality, I lost everything, because I lost sight of God.

It's All Him

2008-07-19T05:13:00.000-07:00

I started this blog during a time where my only purpose was to soak in God's love and be with Him rather to serve Him. You could say God called me to a brief time as a hermit or something like that. As I'm sure you've gathered from reading my blog, it hasn't often been fun for me to just sit and allow Him to minister to me, but I have learned more about Him than I ever thought possible, and I'm grateful He made me go through this time. But now, I can see that God's finally calling me to a time of serving. Now I'm serving in capacities I never have before, and I can see that what I do is simply an outpouring of all He's brought me through in the past few months. Just like He told me, there's no struggle. Serving in these new ways is as natural as breathing, because He's doing it all. It's pure glory to be a medium for God to flow through (a tree!).
But you know what God has shown me? Why it's so hard to live in this place of empowerment. See, not only are things coming easily to me, but I'm also doing them well. How can I not when God's doing them through me? But it's so easy to forget and to start thinking I'm something special. Then I know what will happen, because I've been here before. I'll start by enjoying the praises of men and enjoying feeling good at something. Then I'll start trying to impress people with what I do. The minute that happens, the minute I start trying in my own strength, I take the work out of God's hands. Then suddenly I'm stuck with a burden I was never meant to bear, trying to live up to something I could never live up to, wondering what went wrong.
As I wrote in "Standing," the fight is to lie down at God's feet and stay there, no matter what happens.

Exploding for Jesus

2008-07-18T02:02:00.000-07:00

Two Sundays ago I felt God speak a special promise over my life. It was Psalm 22:14, "I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint. " Not necessarily something you tell all your friends and celebrate over, but I knew what God meant. He meant that He was growing me into the person who could fully be His tree [see Dua Fe]. He was making me into someone who was capable of being fully given for God and for others, to the point where it ripped my body to shreds. And as unappealing as this sounds to the flesh (who, in its defense, will be the most directly affected), this is my greatest desire. Don't ask me to explain why, because the only answer to that question I have is that God put that desire within me when He spoke that promise.
Anyway, as I was thinking of the previous post, it occurred to me that God is so big He would destroy me if He tried to fit inside of me. I would burst. The it hit me.. if that happened my bones would be out of joint and my blood would be running everywhere.
Is it possible that God asks us to take in so much of Him that it literally destroys our flesh, but in the bursting of that flesh His glory is revealed? It's an interesting thought - one that is threatening to burst my brain!

God is Too Good

2008-07-18T01:54:00.000-07:00

I was thinking about the struggle between wanting God to do and wanting God to be. It seems like the hardest command in the Bible is "be still and know that I am God." Yet God has shown me over the past few months that those moments when I let Him sow me a glimpse of who He is - those moments when I allow myself to be still - are the most incredible moments of my life. So why is this command such a struggle? You'd think I'd go to the other extreme, sitting in my room refusing to move for days on end!
I think God scares me. It's not that I'm scared to go into His presence because I feel unworthy or anything like that. That would be a common problem easy to identify and deal with. No, I think I'm scared that God is simply too good to be true. I've been raised in a world where good things don't last - the other shoe always drops. If I'm having a mountaintop experience with God one day, my mind assures me that a valley's coming tomorrow.
In this world, good things don't last. It's a world full of shifting sand. But God isn't of this world, and neither am I. He will be with me in the valley the same way He is on the mountaintop. He will be with me when a child dies the same way He is with me when a child's life is saved. He never changes. He's always with me. He always loves me. God isn't too good to be true, He's true and He's good.
Now, maybe if I repeat this to myself one hundred times a day for the next lifetime, I'll start to believe it. I'll start to be able to fathom the incredible goodness of my Savior!

Lessons from a Dog

2008-07-16T09:58:00.000-07:00

While I was praying today, my dog came into my room [the one of "Worse than a Dog" fame]. Without even realizing what I was doing, I put my hand on her, looked into her eyes, and said, "You are so beautiful." I immediately became self-conscious, thinking there was no reason why God would have had me do that. I began to rationalize, thinking maybe what I said would transfer in the Spirit to some kid somewhere. But God had something to show me.
What possessed me to think He wouldn't care about a dog? My natural, fleshly instinct was to argue that a child was more important, and it was a waste to spend time on a dog with so much else to do. That's when it hit me. God doesn't prioritize. He doesn't have to. He doesn't ignore the most insignificant being, like lilies in a field, to go feed starving children in Africa. Jesus made it very clear that I can't even begin to imagine the depth of His concern for little flowers. Yet it's not like He devotes Himself to them at the expense of other things. He is so great and good that He is able to care for us exponentially more than lilies.
As I sat there looking at my dog, I was given a tiny taste of how much God cared for her. The love I felt was almost too much for my human frame to bear. If this is how much God loves my goofy little dog, how much more must He love His children?
You know, when I wrote the poem "Lord, You are Awesome", I couldn't explain why I ended every stanza with that statement. Now I know. As I began to grasp God's love for my dog, all I could say was, "Lord, You are awesome."

Random Thought

2008-07-14T08:41:00.000-07:00

You know how in heaven Jesus will wipe away every tear? Maybe that means finally He'll be able to comfort us Himself and not have to go through another person. I believe Jesus is looking forward to the day when He'll personally hold us and wipe away all our tears!

Long Distance Prayer

2008-07-13T19:48:00.000-07:00

Ok, God's really emphasizing the prayer thing right now. Today I remembered an incident that happened about a year ago. I was massaging a particularly difficult and hard-harted woman, and while I worked I prayed for her. I prayed for God to touch her life. God told me, "I can't. She would never receive it. But she lets you touch her, so you'll have to do it for me." Now obviously God was touching her through me, but I got the point. People have never been particularly eager to go to God directly - they want someone with skin on. I think this is the biggest reason why God chooses to work through His followers even though we limit Him so much.
Anyway, since that time I've believed that I carry God's presence with me everywhere I go. That's why in Ghana I felt that God was holding those children as I did. But now I'm back home, and I felt that my hope for those kids (assuming another Christian never goes to volunteer at that orphanage) was that they would remember that presence and seek it for themselves. Let's just say today God blew that assumption right out of the water!
Today my pastor made a simple statement that has the capacity to change my life. He said we could wash the feet of others in our thoughts and with our prayers. How stupid of me to think that God is confined to physical space! I don't fully understand how this works, but God clearly showed me that when I pray for those kids, He is holding them through me even though I'm hundreds of miles away.
I can't express to you how I felt as I received this revelation. I can hold my kids! The kids I've been missing so much I can't even think about them. The kids I've been weeping for. God gave them back to me! If I could fully wrap my head around this, I don't think I'd ever stop praying. I'd never let them go!
You know what's funny? When I was the only volunteer at that orphanage, and when the kids were feeling especially cuddly, I had to employ a specially developed way of sitting that would allow up to eight kids to sit in my lap at once (don't ask!). But when I pray, I can hold all of them at once!
Just when I thought prayer was all about God and not about what I wanted, God showed me more.

A More Mature Prayer

2008-07-13T16:45:00.000-07:00

God often, if not always, has to draw people to Himself by showing them how He can benefit them. He gives them the love they've been looking for all their life. He gives them peace. He heals them. He gives them dreams and promises. God loves, and it's His delight to open the storehouses of heaven and rain down blessings upon us. But if we never care to get to know more about God than what He can do for us, we will never enter into the fullness of His presence. If we think of God as a being who fulfills our needs, we will eventually be disappointed and disillusioned. Eventually, God won't do what we expect, and we won't be able to understand why.
God fills our every need, but He's so much more than a being that hands out the daily necessities of life. To not catch a glimpse of the incredible richness of ALL a relationship with God has to offer is to remain forever a child.

Humorous Aside

2008-07-12T20:46:00.001-07:00

On a more humorous note, I thought I'd just put it out there that the last few blogs were written on the notepad of my cellphone. Not a pda or anything like that, but an ordinary flip phone. When you don't have paper but God is speaking, what are you going to do? But I wonder if I'm the first one to write a poem using T9!
Also, I'd like to make sure you know I"m aware that the last few blogs have been variations on a theme. Obviously it's a theme of my life right now. Maybe if one blog doesn't speak to you, another one will. Skim!

Why Pray

2008-07-12T20:38:00.000-07:00

I have struggled with the concept of prayer all my Christian life. At first it was questions like, why bother to tell God things He already knows? Why ask God for things if He'll only do them if it's His will? Do I really believe God would make a sick person die just because I wouldn't pray for them? More recently God has showed me how amazing it is to be in the presence of God - I've had moments of joy that I wouldn't trade for the world. From that I learned that prayer helps me, but what about the other six billion people on the planet? Well, obviously if I'm full of the presence of God, everyone I touch will experience His presence as well. And what about people on the other side of the world? God showed me that when I pray for them, I bring them into His presence as well.
All good stuff, and all totally true, but I think my focus is wrong. Once again, I'm looking for God to DO something. I'm praying to get that tingly feeling all over or because I don't want to se someone suffer. But the point of Christianity is to BE with Christ. How can I sit and tell people Jesus is everything if He isn't everything to me? Prayer isn't just about getting stuff from God, it's acknowledging that there's nowhere else I'd rather be. It's giving up all my selfish desires of what I'd like to do with my time as I dedicate my life to sitting at His feet. It's total surrender. And when God has a people who pray like that, He has a people He can use to do anything!
Of course, it could be that when we pray, we're otherwise occupied and not able to get in the way of God's plans! Joking... sort-of! ;)

Waiting for God's Promises

2008-07-12T13:59:00.000-07:00

I've had a hard time lately because I feel like God has spoken so many promises to me and to my family, but none of them are coming true right now. I love it when I see God doing what He said, and I can handle it if God shows me that He wants me to work on a particular aspect of my walk before He moves. In either case, I have confidence that He's going to move. But waiting with no apparent reason is a little tougher. In fact, it freaks me out! But I finally figured out why. It's the fear that God's not going to come through - that my faith was in vain. I can accept that I was wrong sometimes, but when day after day nothing ever happens, I begin to doubt that anything ever will.
I've been thinking of David a lot lately. I've sympathized with him because he had to spend time hiding in caves just because some insecure king was jealous of him. Now I've been sympathizing with him because he had to wait twenty years to see a promise fulfilled. What doubts must have clouded David's mind during that time! He must have wondered if Samuel was wrong. Maybe sometimes he wondered if he did something wrong and blew it. Perhaps he just lived with the fear that he would be a laughingstock to all who know he had been anointed if God didn't come through. But from reading the Psalms, I can see that David must have come to the same conclusion God recently brought me to.
If I'm focusing on the promises, I'm focusing on what God will do. I'm not focusing on who God IS. And He IS here with me right now. That's one promise I don't have to wait for - He will never leave me or forsake me. He has me in His arms and will never let me go. If I focus on what God does, I will never be satisfied, because I will never be able to understand His ways. But if I focus on who He is, I have everything I will ever need or want... right now!

My Testimony

2008-07-12T13:43:00.001-07:00

I was thinking about my testimony today. I gave up a dream I had devoted twenty years of my life to because I learned that the plans God has for me are far better than the ones I have for myself. When I was pursuing my own plan for my life, I found it never satisfied me. I knew God wanted me to give it up, but for years I had myself convinced that God wanted to take away everything that I held dear. I was convinced I would be happy when I achieved this or that goal. When I finally submitted to God, I saw how God was only asking me to give up what was killing me. Happy ending, right? Unfortunately, if I had learned all I needed to, I'd be the perfect Christian now would be off saving souls instead of blogging! As I think of what happened in Ghana, I see that the problem with my past life wasn't simply that I wasn't following God's plan.
One of the plans God had for me that I certainly didn't have for myself was to go to Ghana and minister to children there. I went, all excited to watch God's plan unfold. And though I wouldn't trade that time for anything, I certainly didn't feel the incredible joy I expected as I walked the life of a victorious Christian. I've talked in past blogs about how I tried to do things in my own power, a power I didn't have. But I wasn't just miserable because I was always exhausted, I was miserable because I was alone. God's plan for my life is great, but even that plan means nothing if I don't have Him. I used to think of my past life and shudder at how miserable I felt. I would say that I would give up anything because I learned God's plan was so much better than my own, but even that wonderful plan is meaningless. Now I see my life was empty because I didn't have Him - I didn't have that living presence with me through each day, no matter what happened. Living with Him is everything. I'll follow Him, not because my life will be so much better if I do what He says, but because I want to be with Him, no matter where that is.

Children

2008-07-06T17:43:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about how we really can't do anything for children - the ones that starve to death in Africa every day or the ones we see in America. Without God, they have nothing, and He is the only one who can reach them. Many people believe you have to wait for them to grow up so they can understand the intricacies of Christianity, but I don't. Christianity is simple, it's adults who make it complicated. I think children just need an encounter with God, and basic Bible knowledge to clarify what they've experienced. But once they meet God, He grows and shapes their lives. I long for them to feel His presence and want everything He has for them. God has given me a vision for all children everywhere.

Not to...

Teach them to worship, but to give them a reason to worship.

Teach them about God, but to introduce them to God through teaching.

Make them be good, but to give them a reason to want to be good.

Teach them the way, but to show them the way.

Tell them God loves them, but to love them with the love of God.

Try to wear them out, but to channel their energy.

Try to help them, but to allow God to help them through me.

Shape their destinies, but to show them who they are.

The Dream

2008-06-30T09:30:00.000-07:00

I met a dream one day.
It told me of the way
To perfect happiness.
It told me of the glory
That would become my story -
A future full of bliss.

I fell in love that day
With all it had to say.
My future looked so bright.
I gave my all to follow
What could be mine tomorrow.
I chased it day and night.

But then there came a day,
I felt I'd lost my way.
Where was this happiness?
I ran faster and faster,
But soon I sensed disaster -
A hole of emptiness.

I saw my dream one day.
It took my life away.
It wasn't what it seemed.
I thought it'd make me something,
But all my work meant nothing.
I broke up with my dream.

I met a man one day.
He said He was the way.
But how could this be bliss?
If I would give Him glory,
Then He would change my story
To one of happiness.

His love showed me the way.
He swept me up that day.
By grace I was redeemed.
I gave my all to follow,
Not caring for tomorrow.
The love became my dream.

Disappointed Again

2008-06-28T02:53:00.001-07:00

God, I know your plans are amazing,
Better than what I have in mind.
Yet day by day my life is normal.
Disappointed again.

God, you promised me all your power,
More than in my wildest dreams.
Yet I keep having the same struggles.
Disappointed again.

God, you said my prayers would move mountains.
I could see your kingdom come.
Yet as I watch I see no difference.
Disappointed again.

God, I know at times you are waiting,
And sometimes I can't see your work.
But now I feel you might be moving.
Disappointed again.

His hand

2008-06-25T19:55:00.000-07:00

Last night I was remembering an incident that happened on Sunday. I was sitting in church when I felt this hand on my shoulder. In my mind I saw this hand - strong but gentle, and very tanned - and I knew it was God. It was comforting, reassuring. I realized last night that when I imagine God's touch, I always imagine it coming from behind me. I imagine Him coming up behind me and hugging me. I feel Him at my back. That seemed odd to me until I remembered how I dealt with some of the children in Ghana. When I would guide them, I would stand behind them with my hands on their shoulders and manipulate them . I thought about how when I imagine God in front of me, I have to follow Him. It puts the burden on me to move myself after Him, which is against everything God has been showing me lately. But now, I see Him in front of me, but feel Him behind me guiding me as I follow. I thought "behind and before" - that sounds like a Bible verse. So this morning I looked it up.

You hem me in - behind and before,
you have laid your hand upon me.
-Psalm 139:5

I expected the first line, but the second line took me off guard.

My Dreams

2008-06-24T06:01:00.000-07:00

All my poems seem to be centering around a main theme lately.

God, why are you waiting?
It's such a tiny chore
For you to feed this little boy.
But you want so much more.
My dreams are not too big, but too small.

God, I know you're able.
You just don't seem to move,
To heal this girl with crippled feet.
But yet again you prove,
My dreams are not too big, but too small.

God, where is your power?
You don't follow my plan.
My enemies are closing in.
So you became a man.
My dreams are not too big, but too small.
My God my King, my Lord, conquered all.

Lord, You are Awesome

2008-06-19T13:14:00.001-07:00

Dancing with Jesus,
Swirling around.
Here in this moment my joy knows no bounds.
Lord, You are awesome.

Walking with Jesus,
Holding His hand.
Despite shoving crowds I'm in the Promised Land.
Lord, You are awesome.

Sitting with Jesus,
Snuggling tight.
Knowing there's nothing that He can't make right.
Lord, You are awesome.

Sleeping with Jesus,
Calm and serene.
Arms hold me tight as I slip into dreams.
Lord, You are awesome.

Standing

2008-06-12T21:07:00.000-07:00

I was thinking - about two years ago God showed me Ephesians 6:13, which talks about having the full armor of God so I can "stand." I thought the point of that verse was that we don't have to go on the offensive but stand in defense. To someone exhausted from living a life that felt like climbing a glass wall, the thought of merely standing instead of continuing to climb was a great relief. Until now I've interpreted that verse as an order to merely obey no matter how I feel, and let the results come. I've done this by reading my Bible when I'm tired or praying when I feel like I'm talking to empty space. I thought it was a call to stick with things long-term, which is something my impatient and impulsive nature struggles with. I got through Ghana by telling myself to "stand" when I wanted to stay in bed instead of go to the orphanage. [That's where the poem "Stand" came from, though now that I reread it I realize that God was speaking to me through it, and I didn't understand it at all! Interesting.]
But now God is showing me that I've missed something. Ephesians 6:10 says to "be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power." the whole passage talks about the tools God has given me to carry out His instructions - truth, righteousness, peace, faith, salvation, and His word. Notice that all these tools are things I can't do anything to acquire on my own. They all speak of God's character, something I can only understand by communing with Him. I need a revelation of His presence to allow Him to infuse me with this armor and help me use it.
When I put this concept together with my desire to be God's tree, things start to make more sense. God is calling me to a battle, but He's given me every tool I need to fight. All I need to do is to take advantage of them. If I allow myself to be broken before God, He will take the outdated and rusted weapons I'm trying to use and give me all of His power.
So where does the standing part come in? It sounds like God is giving me His power to attack with the knowledge that the outcome is sure. I think the problem is that though I acknowledge that I want to give everything to Him, it's hard to stay in that place. Any little thing happens, and I'm ready to take control again. I get impatient. I get nervous. I disagree with the way the battle's being fought. But the minute I try to take back some control, I lose the power.
I think standing doesn't mean obeying, because that's still trying to operate in my own strength. I think it has to do with resisting the attack of the enemy as he tells me my way is better. There's nothing more scary to the powers of darkness than a soul completely surrendered to Christ, because that's where I have the power to fight. To me, standing means constantly choosing to lie prostrate at the feet of the one standing for me, and not getting up no matter how I feel.
I never realized not doing anything could be so hard. But you know what? God even gives me the power to do that! Those weapons aren't just the power I need to fight for other people or the fate of the world. They contain the power I need to never get up.

Love

2008-06-12T09:14:00.000-07:00

I was thinking about how I've been seeing that the love of God is EVERYTHING. However, I often say that with reservation, because I feel like I'll sound like those warm-fuzzy people who believe that God would never tell anyone that what they were doing was wrong if it made them feel good, would never send someone to hell, etc. The kind of people whose faith is dramatically shaken if a natural disaster strikes or if God doesn't do what they want. Suddenly you hear, "How could a loving God allow such and such to happen?"
I've always answered such people by telling them that our concept of love is so different from God's. We know that He's loving, but sometimes our definition of love doesn't match His. But just like my last post, sometimes I feel we Christians use that as a cop-out, because we really don't understand how a loving God could have allowed the Holocaust, or Katrina, or the tsunami. Then I realized for me to think that way, I haven't read my Bible well.
It's easy to see how a loving God delivered His people out of Egypt and completely destroyed their enemies. But that same loving God allowed them to be enslaved for 400 years. What was up with that? A loving God found a man after His own heart and made him king over Israel, ushering in a golden era for them. But that same loving God allowed that man to have to flee for his life for ten years. A loving God wanted so desperately to make a way for us to be with Him, but he allowed His Son to sacrifice Himself in the most unspeakable torture imaginable to accomplish this task. If I cling to the world's definition of love, how can i look at these contradictions and have any faith left in a "loving God?"
I think the answer lies in the fact that the Bible covers over 6000 years of time, while we live in a moment. When a little girl lives in a fairy tale, she often dreams of the handsome prince and the beautiful palace. But most of the time, those things come at the end of the story. Snow White was kicked out of her home and forced to live in a cottage that couldn't have had the conveniences she was used to. Cinderella worked for years before she got her big break. But discounting exceptions such as "A Little Princess," girls like to dream of the happy ending.
I think we Christians can approach the Bible the same way. We see the happy endings, but don't like to think about the journey. But there's so much more to the Bible than a fairy tale, because the story's not done. We are living in that story, adding on to it. What the Bible shows us is a picture of the journey we all go through, and that journey has ups and downs. It's supposed to show us that whether things are going well or poorly, the hand of God is controlling it all. And though we don't have the capacity to understand how all the events in the Bible were loving, God showed us enough of the outcome for us to realize that He orchestrated everything for His good purpose out of His great love for mankind. Just like the people in the Bible, we might have times of a "happy ending," where we feel God is finally acting like we think He should. But again, just like those in the Bible, the journey continues.
God's not just in the "happy ending." He's in every moment. And though I might not always understand how, I can look at the lives of those who have gone before me and see that He is love.

Cop-Out?

2008-06-11T20:10:00.000-07:00

It's so easy to take my revelation [see "Greater than These"] and make it a cop-out for God. "Well," I catch myself thinking, that's why I'm not seeing healings. God's working on saving lives." But implied in that statement is a justification for why He's not healing when I wish He would. The opposite is true. A saved life is far better than a healed body. God is accomplishing something far more powerful and good than I could possibly imagine, and He does it every day.
But there's even more. When God touches people, He often heals their body as well. Stress and stress-related ailments melt away. Chronic pains lift. Peace cures a variety of physical problems. The healing is a manifestation of the cure, and it's not wrong to expect those as well. It's just important to keep things in perspective.
My revelation isn't an excuse for me to decide God's working even though I don't see His power. It's a call to get down on my knees and pray for the right miracles - the ones that will permanently change the destiny of man, not merely make him feel good.

Summary

2008-06-11T15:07:00.001-07:00

Ok, it's blog day, but I published everything else I did today to set the stage for this. It's kind of a summary of the processing I've been doing lately. Keep in mind that this post will probably make it seem pretty bleak, but I'm only telling one facet of my experience - the part with the orphans. And I'm not even telling too much about the good times with the kids, because that's not my focus here. Just don't want you to get the wrong impression. Four months is a long time and a lot happened.

God called me to Ghana to minister to orphans. I had been feeling this call for years, and He had finally opened the door for me to respond. But when I got there, I realized that nothing could have prepared me for what I experienced. I saw kids in desperate need of the basic necessities of life. Sometimes there weren't even enough diapers for the babies. The home was terribly understaffed, which meant that children who were supposed to have a mother and father devoted to them might have to share one woman with fifteen other children. Sometimes when donations were poor the children wouldn't have enough food. [See "Dying to Self" for more details about the conditions.] I became obsessed with trying to help these children. Though there was no way I could buy food for everyone, I wanted to give them the food they could have, change their diapers, and try to make their life a little better.
However, I soon became exhausted and depressed. What happened to Evan [see post about him] didn't help things, but even if that hadn't happened things weren't going well. I felt I just couldn't stand the pain around me, and instead of making a difference, I felt myself starting to shut everything out. I didn't want to go to the orphanage - it was only sheer obedience to God that kept me going. When I went, sometimes I felt better as I interacted with the kids, but more often I felt I just couldn't stand it and couldn't wait to get out of there. What made it worse was hot tired I felt. I blamed the tiredness on depression, but it was really debilitating. I prayed to God to renew my strength - I wanted to help those kids - but I felt no answer. Most days all I could do was hold them and sing to them to try to stop them from crying.
When it was time to leave, my heart broke at the thought of leaving them behind no better than when I had come, but at the same time I just wanted to go home. Funny that I don't think I learned much while I was over there, but I've learned a ton since I've been back as I've been processing and praying. It turned out that I was really infested with parasites for three of the four months I was there, which contributed to my extreme weakness, but that fact doesn't change what I've learned... It just gave me the time to process as I recovered.

What I've Learned:

1) I responded to God's call, but I went in my own strength. My attitude was something like, "God, thank you for saving me. Now aren't you glad I'm on Your team? I want to serve You. Look at what I'm going to do for you!" Right. I was fulfilling my own desire to help people, not God's. I was thinking about what I wanted to do for them so that my heart would no longer ache for them. [see "It's Not About What I Want"]
When my strength ran out, when my capacity to love failed me, I got upset that God wasn't helping me. I didn't understand that I was looking to God for a drink of normal water (see John 4 - woman at the well) instead of letting HIs living water fill me to overflowing. His living water would never have run dry. I wanted Him to give me my strength and my love back. He wanted to give me His. [see "Sick of Second Chances"] It was so hard for me to grasp that I needed to focus on my relationship with Him. I didn't see ow sitting and receiving His love could help alleviate the suffering I saw.
Now I see that it was the only way, because I needed something to give. [see "Dua Fe" and "Run by Standing Still"]

2) I got frustrated because I didn't see how anything I did was making a long-term difference. You feed a kid and they'll be hungry again. A sick kid gets better to face what kind of life? There was so much hopelessness, and I didn't see any way out. I thought my faith was wavering because I didn't see how God could possibly do anything. I had no idea that I was asking too little. I wanted to feed these kids - God wanted them to know they had a Father. I wanted to save lives - God wanted to bring life into their existence. [see "Greater than These" and "Fatherless"]
I was asking God for the perishable. God wanted to give them His living water.

3) Despite my attempts to get in the way, in His incredible mercy God still used me. Remember how I said all I could do a lot was sit and sing to them? I thought I was failing, but in those moments God was using me to pour His life and love into them. I am so filled with awe and gratitude when I think about how He allowed me to be a part of His plan even when I messed everything up
It's not about me, it's about Him. I will never be "good enough" for Him to use, but He uses anything He can get!

The Result:

I pray for myself, and I pray for those kids. I pray that I would remain broken before Him so He can fill me with His life and make me His tree. And I pray that those ids would know their Father. I care that they get fed, but I know their Father will take care of those details. He loves them more than I do.

Dying to Self

2008-06-11T15:03:00.000-07:00

This is an excerpt from an email I wrote while having a particularly bad day in Ghana. It helps show what conditions were like there. It puts dying to self in a new perspective.

I want to come home. I can handle everything else I've had to put up
with, but I can't handle this. Imagine you're trying to feed a child
(not Evan, he's doing tons better and eating much faster) who has
trouble swallowing because she has some musculoskeletal disorder.
You know (lucky guess) that since you've never fed her before,
chances are very good the only feeding method she's ever known is the
"tip head back as far as it will go until mouth pops open and pour it
in" approach, which causes her to maybe get a quarter of the food.
So you're painstakingly giving her a sip at a time and note that as
she gets used to this incredibly innovative method that she becomes
very excited and really starts to enjoy a procedure she usually
screams through. Now, imagine while your left hand is aching from
holding up her sweaty head (it keeps slipping), you notice a
cockroach crawling around the crib where she's sitting. You've seen
cockroaches before and been ok, but this one won't go away. It would
be impossible to shoo it away because your hands are occupied in a
delecate balance - it's not like there's any convenient surface to
set anything down on nearby. Never mind the fact that there's a
cockroach in the bed, however, because you then notice that in the
window on the far wall there are about twenty rats. You've seen one
in that area a couple of times, but never this. Then you hear a
crash and rustling and squeaking from the window two inches from
where you are precariously positioned. Note that all along you've
been incredibly aware that when you see any critter or rodent that if
you react as if anything is amiss, the kids that have to live here
might start to be upset by them, so you've gotten very good at hiding
how you feel.

That's setting the scene. I'm sorry. I dropped the kid and screamed.

Poems

2008-06-11T15:00:00.000-07:00

I felt the need to put up all the poems I wrote in Ghana or the ones inspired by what I experienced in Ghana. I hope they mean something to someone. I published them in chronological order, so the most recent appears last.

Love Means...

2008-06-11T14:59:00.000-07:00

Love doesn't feel good.

Love means not giving me what I desperately want to spare me from the pain of having it.

Love means watching me suffer to save me from destroying myself.

Love means getting rid of everything that separates us so that I can be satisfied.

Love means beatings and curses and giving everything He has so that He can be with me, and allowing me to go through the same thing to bring me closer.

Love means a cross.

Love is Good.

Love is Everything.

Run By Standing Still

2008-06-11T14:58:00.000-07:00

I want to work for Jesus,
Bring glory to his name.
I beat my body half to death,
To serve the blind and lame.
But...
I love by being loved.
I run faster standing still.

Why do I come up empty?
I'm following His call.
he said He'd make a way for me,
When I gave Him my all.
But...
I love by being loved.
I run faster standing still.

He says I'm out of focus
By running all around.
But how can working be so wrong?
I want to free the bound.
But...
I love by being loved.
I run faster standing still.

It's great I want to serve Him.
It's easy not to see,
He longs to hold me in His arms
And spend the day with me.
See...
I love by being loved.
I run faster standing still.

I serve a loving Father.
One day I'll understand
How He can reach a dying world
Through such nonsense commands.
Like...
Just love by being loved
And run faster standing still.

Hunger Has A Name

2008-06-11T14:57:00.000-07:00

Hunger has a name,
And hunger has a face.
Hunger has a hand that gropes
Around a barren place.

Hunger has a name,
And hunger has a look.
Hunger has a voice that calls
From some abandoned nook.

Hunger has a name,
And hunger has a soul.
Hunger has two arms that ache
From holding out a bowl.

Hunger has a name,
But hunger's not alone.
Hunger has the eyes to see
Fat men with hearts of stone.

It's Not About What I Want

2008-06-11T14:56:00.000-07:00

I want to raise the name of Jesus higher
but my arms keep getting wrapped around myself.
I want to show the world God's Holy fire
but my arms keep getting wrapped around myself.
It's not about what I want.

I want to buy some groceries for a widow
but my arms keep getting wrapped around myself.
I want to wipe the tears of those who sorrow
but my arms keep getting wrapped around myself.
It's not about what I want.

I'm thankful for my weakness for
I have nothing to prove.
I'm thankful for my helplessness.
God gets the chance to move.

See, it's all about the people, and
It's all about the lost.
It's all about their need to know
God's mercy at the cross.

I want to take the lonely out to dinner
but my arms keep getting wrapped around myself.
I want to show forgiveness to a sinner
but my arms keep getting wrapped around myself.
It's not about what I want.

I want to reach a world that has gone wild
but my arms keep getting wrapped around myself.
I want to wrap my arms around a child
but my arms keep getting wrapped around myself.
It's not about what I want.

I'm thankful for my weakness for
I have nothing to prove.
I'm thankful for my helplessness.
God gets the chance to move.

See, it's all about the Savior, and
It's all about the plan.
It's all about His love for us.
For God became a man.

Peter, Do You Love Me?

2008-06-11T14:53:00.000-07:00

Peter, do you love me?
Of course, you know I do.
Peter, do you love me?
I gave it all for you.
But Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?

Peter, do you love me?
I know you are the Lord.
Peter, do you love me?
I'll follow with a sword.
But Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?

Peter, do you love me?
I'm ready, lead the fight!
Peter, do you love me?
You'll make our future bright.
But Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?

Peter, do you love me?
I'll never run away.
Peter, do you love me?
When others would betray.
But Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?

Peter, do you love me?
I never knew the man.
Peter, do you love me?
I swear, you understand?
But Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?

Peter, do you love me?
I'm drowning in my shame.
Peter, do you love me?
I'll never be the same.
But Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?

Peter, do you love me?
My Lord's alive today!
Peter, do you love me?
The Truth, the Life, the Way!
But Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?

Peter, do you love me?
Of course, you know I do.
Peter, do you love me?
I want to think it's true.
But Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?

Peter, do you love me?
Lord, I was so wrong.
Peter, do you love me?
You knew it all along.
But Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?

Peter, do you love me?
Whatever you should say.
Peter, do you love me?
With your help, I'll obey.
But Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?

Peter, do you love me?
I'll wait for forty days.
Peter, do you love me?
I'll walk with you always.
But Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?
Peter, do you love me?

Peter, do you love me?
I'll die a martyr's death.
Peter, do you love me?
Proclaim with my last breath,
My Lord, I'll always love you.
My king, I'll always love you.
You know I'll always love you.

Stand

2008-06-11T14:52:00.000-07:00

Stand -
When your heart is breaking.
Stand -
When your world is shaking.
Stand -
Believe in what
You know already to be true.

Stand -
When the bad is winning.
Stand -
When you feel like sinning.
Stand -
Just trust the word
That God will not abandon you.

How do you stand? By leaning -
You lean upon His grace.
How do you stand? By resting -
You rest in His embrace.

Stand -
When you have no reason.
Stand -
In your driest season.
Stand -
I'm telling you
My God will never let you down.

Stand -
In the hopeless places.
Stand -
Come and sing is praises.
Stand -
Remember that
He's waiting for you with a crown.

How do you stand? By leaning -
You lean upon His grace.
How do you stand? By resting -
You rest in His embrace.

Stand -
For the children crying
Stand -
There's a world that's dying
Stand -
He'll give you strength.
Now with His joy begin to sing.

Stand -
In eternal glory.
Stand -
With a God who's holy.
Stand -
Forever be
With Christ your everlasting king.

How do you stand? By leaning -
You lean upon His grace.
How do you stand? By resting -
You rest in His embrace.

Sick of Second Chances

2008-06-11T14:50:00.000-07:00

I'm sick of second chances.
I'm tired of the fight.
I want to conquer,
Fail no longer,
One day get it right.

I'm sick of your forgiveness.
Why can't I stop this sin?
I hate confession,
Want to rest in,
Knowing I can win.

I'm sick of new beginnings.
They mean I've made a mess
Of my assignment.
Why the constant
Failure to progress?

I'm sick of needing mercy.
I'd rather work alone,
And prove that I could,
Do some great good
Working on my own.

I Love You

2008-06-11T14:48:00.000-07:00

Your anxious thoughts won't quiet,
And your tired brain won't stop
Processing the wrongs you did that day.
I look at you and wish you'd hear me say,
I love you

You dwell on jobs unfinished
And determine to do more,
Swearing you will work with greater zeal.
I shake my head and wish that you could feel,
I love you

You replay all your failures,
And you relive each misstep,
Forcing you to wallow in your shame.
I reach for you and softly breathe your name.
I love you

Each sin you want to conquer,
And each soul you want to save,
Trying to do every job you see.
I wait for you to simply walk with me.
I love you.

I'm pleased by your devotion,
But I fear you've missed the point,
Thinking that I need the work you've done.
I didn't want a servant but a son.
I love you.

Let my love fuel your movements.
Let love shine in your eyes.
Allowing me to touch a world through you.
I smile at you and send you life anew.
I love you.

Will You Love Me?

2008-06-11T14:46:00.000-07:00

Will you love me when you're crazy?
Will you love me when you're not?
Will you love me when you don't enjoy
The gifts that I have brought?

Will you love me when you're lonely?
Will you love me with your friends?
Will you love me when I take you through
Life's twists and turns and bends?

Will you love me when you're tired?
Will you love me when you're mad?
Will you love me through the thousandth time,
Of giving all you had?

Do my whispers make you smile?
Do my gestures make you laugh?
Do you see me every single time
You walk a peaceful path?

I said, “It won't be easy.”
I said that life is hard.
But I said that I'd be with you as
Your comforter and guard.

Will you love me through the glitter?
Will you love me with your wealth?
Will you look to me for sustenance,
When you're in perfect health?

Will you love me through your weeping?
Will you love me when you cry?
Will you run to me with heavy heart -
My arms are open wide.

Can you understand my doings?
Will you love me if you don't?
Will you trust me if you think that I
Should do it, but I won't?

Do my whispers make you smile?
Do my gestures make you laugh?
Do you see me every single time
You walk a peaceful path?

Will you love me when you're broken?
Will you love me through you're pain?
See, I love you from upon a cross,
And count your heart as gain.

Language

2008-06-10T10:11:00.000-07:00

When I was in Ghana, I was touched at how impressed people were when I said a simple word like "medaase" (thank you) in the local language of Twi. To me, thank you is one of the first expressions you learn in any language and shouldn't be too much of an accomplishment after living in a place for four months. The Ghanians disagreed. They told me that most people who had lived there for years hadn't learned how to speak a word of Twi because most Ghanians spoke enough English to get by. I was saddened by the attitude of people who forced a native people to speak another language instead of trying to learn the native language of the place they had chosen to call home. But even more, I was moved by how much it meant to a Ghanian that I had made an effort to learn even one word of Twi. They immediately felt I had accepted them and was willing to make a little bit of effort to get to know them. They showed me how important it is to communicate to someone in their own language.
I was just thinking - it is very rare to find a person who is completely fluent in a second language, to the point where they understand all the nuances and richness of that language. They might pretend they do and be able to understand enough that it would never occur to you that they sometimes wondered what you were talking about, but in most cases communication will never be the same. Then I thought about how in the Middle Ages all church services were conducted in Latin. I thought of people like William Tyndale who gave their life to the pursuit of translating the Scriptures into the language of the people. We can understand God's spirit even if we don't understand the language, but there's something about hearing about God in a way that we can understand on a very deep and personal level.
I'm so grateful that God speaks every language, and comes to us in a way we can intimately understand. He doesn't ask us to learn anything or go through any strict formulas to be able to get to Him - He bridges the gap.
I guess that's why I'm so obsessed with learning every language I can, because I want to be like Jesus and be the one to make the effort to communicate His love to the world.

Being Filled Up

2008-06-07T02:21:00.000-07:00

For much of the time I was in Ghana, I felt totally drained. I cried out to God, asking for more strength and inspiration, not understanding why He wouldn't supply me with His strength when I ran out of my own. And He did refresh me when I called, but I had to get to the point where I was empty, which was a miserable feeling. Now, lets forget for a moment that I had been wrongly diagnosed and parasites were ravaging my intestines while I was being treated for malaria, because in a way that was not important. What was important was that my thinking was all backwards.
I operated on my own strength, and expected God to come in and save the day when I could do no more. Saying it that way, it seems obvious what my problem was, but I think it's a trap that's so easy for us all to fall into. We don't pour ourselves out and expect to be filled back up, we get filled up to the point where anything not of God automatically gets drained out - before we do anything. Then we have something worth pouring out. I believe with all my heart that if I had taken this approach, I would have never found myself empty and having to go to God for a refill, like God was a waiter being a little slow with that second cup of coffee. I would have found that the more I pour out God's love, the more was there, both for everyone around me and myself as well.

Effia

2008-06-07T01:58:00.000-07:00

Effia had multiple sclorosis or something of the sort (no one was really sure.) She and another girl, Deborah, with a similar problem, liked to be taken outside to lie in the cool breezes. We would put mosquito nets over them to keep the flies away. Simple pleasures, simple pleasures. It didn't take much to make them happy.
A sign above her bed said she liked to be stroked on the face, which was true. We all thought it was a strange obsession of hers - when you stroked her cheek, she would give you the biggest smile or even giggle, no matter how upset she was. Then one day I happened to be wiping the drool from her face and she responded the same way. I realized the motion I had used was the same one people had used to stroke her cheek. Was this the same motion her mother had used when she had cared for her daughter? No one can know, but that's my theory.
We never know how a simple touch can change a life.

Kojo

2008-06-07T01:46:00.000-07:00

Kojo has a brain tumor. The doctors there have told the orphanage they have done all they can do, and that he has less than a year to live (this was at least six months ago). But that's not entirely accurate. I learned from a British volunteer that he needs his head drained, a surgery that they do in the US and Britain, but not in countries like Ghana. If he had been adopted by a family in one of those two countries, his life could have been saved. Now it's probably even too late for any surgery in the world to do any good.
Over the time I was there I watched Kojo go from slightly blind to fully blind as the tumor grew, and watched seizures gradually take over his body until he was shaking all the time. His only crime was being born in the wrong country.
Feeding Kojo could be a trick sometimes. He would often push away the spoon as I touched it to his lips. We developed a little game where I would coax him to eat, saying "Kojo, di. Di. Di baako." (Kojo, eat. Eat. Eat just one spoonful). When he would, I would congratulate him with "Ieko!" which is used to congratulate someone who is working hard. The mothers used to laugh at my dramatics, but it was fun and it worked.
Kojo is one of the children I said goodbye to knowing that only through a miracle would I ever see them again alive.

Hilarious

2008-06-06T19:52:00.000-07:00

Today I was telling the story of the most unusual Ghanian church service I attended. It was a small church where almost everyone was related. I came with my friend, the nephew of the pastor.
The sermon was about "marriage problems," which I very quickly realized meant singleness. Considering that most of the people there were my age, I'm sure the topic was relevant, and considering they were all related, I'm sure it was a problem trying to find that perfect someone in church. However, the pastor had an interesting take on the matter. According to him, we were supposed to pray about the person we were interested in right before bed. Then if we went to bed and dreamt about that person, that was the devil trying to fool us into thinking God wanted us to marry them. But if we saw fruit in our dream, that meant our marriage would be fruitful! I'm sorry, I thought that was the most hilarious thing I'd ever heard. For the rest of the time in Ghana, I was making fruit jokes... I"m sorry, I can't marry you because I didn't see fruit... that's you're problem, you didn't see fruit, etc.
Then, when I had to introduce myself at the end of the service, the pastor asked me if I was a Christian. I said yes. Then he asked me if I was married! I could see the guys side of the church leaning forward with anticipation. I was like, yeeaahh, hoping somehow it wouldn't compute. Then the pastor asked me if I wanted to marry a Ghanian! I suppose he was thinking that here was a young woman with a "marriage problem" and that God could answer my prayers there and then, but I didn't see it that way. I was like, maaybeeee, again trying to melt into the floor. With the help of the friend I had gone with, I managed to get out of that church without too many problems, and saw the humor of the situation later. I believe I told him that that was definitely the most memorable time I had been introduced to a church! Why is it that all my Ghana stories end with a marriage proposal? Oh yeah, because I got one every other minute!
Until today, I considered this story hilarious and loved telling it. My friends loved hearing about it too. However, today I was convicted. I always mentioned in the story that it's sad that these people actually take this sort of thing seriously, but I never went any further than that. But today I remembered that almost anyone, saved or unsaved, who goes to Ghana wants to visit a church service. African church services have a reputation for being incredibly lively and fun, and people like to go see them. Most of the people I was with wanted to go to one at some point during the trip, even though I was one of the only Christians there. I spoke with one girl who had gone to this particular church the week before I had. We were sharing stories about our experience, when the girl said that what horrified her was that those people actually believed that stuff. And I agreed with her. But today I realized that she wasn't just talking about wacky dream interpretations or using church as a matchmaking opportunity, she was talking about Christianity in general. It's highly likely that's the only church she's ever attended.
See, that church service wasn't funny at all. Ghanians have an incredible opportunity to draw unsaved tourists from all over the world into their midst and share with them the gospel. Instead, at least this one slanders God's name and makes Christianity into a joke for them. This isn't just some crazy belief, it's a serious problem.
This realization made me realize again that I might be the only Bible people will ever read. Every time I do anything, I"m representing Christ to them, and I want to give the an accurate representation. And I also realized that I need to pray for the Ghanian churches, that they would be convicted of the reality of Christ and be used by God to share that conviction with people from all over the world. Imagine revival starting from a tiny African country nobody's ever heard of!

The Fatherless

2008-06-05T03:37:00.000-07:00

Each time I would care for the kids at the orphanage, I was struck again by how much these kids needed parents. Even if we cared for them the best way possible, there was no comparison between that and them being in an actual home with two people (or even one) dedicated to loving and caring for them. There was no way six of us could give about forty toddlers and babies the love and attention they needed. I would be happy when I saw a baby adopted, but my heart would break for the others - the ones who were older than babies and far less likely to be adopted, no matter how cute they were. The ones who had something wrong with them and had almost no chance of being taken into a home. I prayed that somehow God would give them a family.
But again, God had answered my prayer long before I prayed it. In fact, he answered my prayer when He was founding ancient Israel, when he showed He had a special heart for widows and... orphans. Psalm 68:5 says "A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling."
When children have no family, God steps in and becomes their family, which I think is a pretty awesome thought. Yes, in a world of artificial inseminations and everything else people do to conceive, it would be great if no child had to grow up in an orphanage. But while I pray for that I also pray that these children would find the love and attention they need in the arms of their heavenly father. No family can love them like He can.

Ado

2008-06-04T13:25:00.000-07:00

It's hard not to think of Ado as my favorite. He was so cute, and often made himself more endearing by running down the sidewalk to greet me when he saw me coming. His facial expressions were to die for. When another kid was crying, the concerned look he would get was out-of-this-world adorable. And when he chased the chickens... You get the picture.
But Ado stays in my heart for another reason. Though he's only two, I watched his personality really come out during the time I was with him, and it wasn't as cute as his face. Ado would scream for water and not want to share, even when he wasn't thirsty anymore. He wanted to carry the water bag with him, just in case. He threw tantrums whenever he didn't get his way. And I don't blame him - I probably would have been the same way if I didn't know where my next meal was coming from and never felt loved. However, Ado showed me that my mission in life isn't to feed kids and change diapers. That's not enough. My mission is to show them the love of Jesus and hope they'll run into His arms. He's the only one who can truly satisfy them, no matter what their circumstance.

Yaw

2008-06-04T13:06:00.002-07:00

Yaw is the sweetest little boy you'll ever meet. He never says a word. He is perfectly content to sit in my lap for the duration of my visit, though he never cries if I have to put him down. He is called Yaw because he came to the orphanage on Thursday and the people in charge weren't able to find out his name.
However, I think Yaw's story is the most tragic of all. When I first met Yaw, I did what I normally do with the children who might be able to talk. I ask them their name in every language I can (Twi, Ga, French, Russian, English) to see if they'll respond. Most don't - they've been too traumatized to talk. However, this little boy looked at me and said "Coco." That was his name, and it was so cute I forgot everything else. He never spoke again.
Then I got sick with something that wasn't malaria, though the doctors told me it was, and didn't go the orphanage for a week. When I got back, everyone was calling him Yaw. I decided I must have been thinking of another boy or something and began calling him Yaw as well. Then my last day there, someone told me he came from Togo, and my heart sank. The boy spoke French. Because I'd been sick and everything, I hadn't realized that he told his name to me when I asked him in French, a language no one else there spoke. He probably didn't talk because he didn't understand the language. I realized I was the only one who knew his real name.
I told some workers what had happened, but though they were sympathetic, they handled the situation as I expected they would. He was Yaw now - let's not confuse him further. And he has to learn the language. But imagine losing everything and everyone around you, going to a place where you don't understand anything, and no one even knows your name.
God knows his name.

Thought

2008-06-04T13:06:00.001-07:00

Christians don't give to get, we get to give.

Greater than These

2008-06-03T19:27:00.000-07:00

One night at church someone prayed and a simple phrase jumped out at me. She prayed that God would open "blind spiritual eyes." I remembered that my pastor had once said that all the miracles Jesus did had a deeper meaning, like God could open physical eyes, but also spiritual eyes. John 14:12 says "I tell you the truth, anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father." Suddenly, I realized that Jesus opened blind eyes, deaf ears, etc, but left His Spirit behind so that through Him we would open eyes to His glory and ears to His word. Though I'm not saying God doesn't heal physical ailments today, because He does, the greater miracle is when someone is introduced to the love of a Savior.
I was overcome when God showed me this, because I realized that God's definition of what was great and who was great was so different from mine. I wondered how many people God might have touched through me while I was off wondering when He would heal someone's physical body and thinking God wasn't moving. But God showed me an even greater truth about this concept tonight.
I was looking at the story of the ten lepers in Luke 17. The pastor asked why Jesus told the one who came back to thank Him that his faith had made him whole, when the other nine must have had some faith and were healed. I immediately thought of an answer, though I have looked at this story many times without ever being satisfied with the ending myself. I realized there was a difference between being healed, and being made whole. It turned out that this was exactly where the pastor was going!
I visited a leper colony in Ghana - it was one of the most terrible days of my life. What was so awful to me was not just the people I saw, but the fact that the people trying to help them honored all religions and didn't share the Gospel of Christ with them. It seemed like such a waste to me. Picturing these people now, I thought of how amazing it would be for them if God healed them. Then I realized that for a spiritual miracle to be even greater than a physical one, how amazing must it be to discover life in Christ! That's how great our God is, that receiving life back into decaying limbs is nothing compared to His love! Like C.S. Lewis says, we often ask for too little because we can't imagine the glory.
You know, it's scary to imagine that much glory!!! Our God is an awesome God, and may His spiritual miracles pour down from heaven.

Dua Fe

2008-06-02T12:43:00.000-07:00

On Thursday my pastor was talking about the Jesus and the fig tree from Mark 11. He talked about how a tree that was full of life would manifest the life within it with fruit. That fruit would then provide life and nourishment to all around it. All a tree does is stand there - anyone who wants what the tree has will come to it and partake.
This simple statement resonated with me on so many levels. For years it has been my prayer that I would be so full of the Holy Spirit that people could feel it without me having to do anything, like a tree that attracts people to it with its delicious fruit. Also, God has been showing me lately how much everything I do should be a manifestation of my relationship with Him - the life within me. Lastly, God has been reassuring me that I don't have to do anything but surrender myself fully to Him and his love. That love will automatically translate into a love for other people without my trying to be a super Christian and go looking for ways to serve Him. In the same way, a tree doesn't go chasing people down, working itself into the ground. A tree makes itself available and trusts that the right people will come to it. Then the tree gives of itself to them.
So my prayer since that day has been that I would be God's tree. It's been pretty rough for me because when I focus on my relationship with God instead of what I can do for Him, I lose all distractions and start to see what kind of person I really am. Funny - people talk about how we block God out with activity. I never thought we blocked out with Christian activity! Anyway, I was pretty broken yesterday, so I was just praying that God would help me fully submit to Him and make me into His tree, though it seemed an impossible task.
As I was praying, my hand moved to the shell hanging around my neck. I had found the shell in Cape Coast, one of the most beautiful beach resorts in Ghana. I began thinking about the shell and how much I had enjoyed collecting shells that day. Then I thought of the three Ghanian guys that had helped me. Suddenly I got the chills - one of those moments where God's awesomeness is so real you get chills. They had created a Twi nickname for me. They called me Dua Fe.
Dua Fe means beautiful tree.

Aquilla

2008-06-01T11:24:00.000-07:00

This is Aquilla just after she woke up from her nap. She has a twin named Acoco. Aquilla's the sweet one, Acoco's the hyper one. Both of them loved to pull on my hair and watch me bend my neck in half... weird obsession!
What kills me about these girls is that they were called by the wrong names for the first week they were there. I come in one day, and the mothers tell me that they've just been told the right names and that Acoco's the one with earrings (they took Aquilla's out). Not only can I imagine that would be traumatic for a two-year-old, but I feel terrible about it. For some reason, I felt it important to make a special effort to call each child by their name. Doesn't really work if you're just emphasizing a tragic mistake! But they are beautiful girls and seemed to open up much more once the name thing was sorted out!

Isaac

2008-06-01T11:20:00.000-07:00

This is Isaac. He was the first child I met. When I was being given a tour of the facilities, we started out at the nursery. Isaac was standing up in his crib reaching out to me when he walked by. I picked him up for a moment, and ended up carrying him for the rest of the tour because he cried when I put him down! Over the next months I watched him learn to walk, which was special. However, Isaac has HIV, which means if he doesn't get help soon he will soon become another statistic. All I can do is pray.

Georgina

2008-05-25T04:57:00.000-07:00

When I found Georgina, I actually stayed away from her. She shied away from my touch, and since I didn't know what was wrong with her, I was afraid of hurting her more by trying to care for her. I just remember this incredibly fragile and looking baby that everyone kind of ignored. She looked like she had some physical disability, but didn't act like the babies with neurological disorders. I didn't know what to do with her.
Then one day a British volunteer with some medical training told me she looked the way because she was severely dehydrated - that was her only problem. I was horrified. She told me that the mothers didn't take the time to care for her because she was too weak to cry, so they forgot about her. The mothers had enough on their hands just taking care of the "cute ones" who had a chance of getting adopted. I was like, well if someone took care of her, maybe she would be cute enough to get adopted too. The British girl agreed with me and told me that she bought extra water to feed her, but would be gone all weekend. She asked me to stop by every day to give Georgina a drink. I quickly agreed, and Georgina immediately became my special project.
Friday I gave her water. The mothers were annoyed with me because I wouldn't give any to the "cute ones" who sat crying nearby, but I knew they would get water from the mothers, while Georgina wouldn't. It was a stressful time, but I was determined to show God's love to this little girl by giving her a drink. I thought of the sheep and the goats in Matthew.
The next time I went, I was told Georgina had been taken to the hospital. That was it, no more information. I panicked, but tried to believe it was all for the best and Georgina wouldn't be forgotten by the overworked hospital staff, but would be cared for as she desperately needed.
About a week later I finally got out of the staff where she was and that it would be ok to visit her. I found her in the hospital and realized that God had answered my prayers. She was on an IV and looking much better. Then the nurse came in. She was a Ghanian who had been educated in America, and was thrilled to be able to talk to an American about Georgina's case. She told me that Georgina actually had kwashniokor, a severe protein deficiency. She looked at me and was like, what is going on at this children's home? I see cases come in like this all the time. She'll get better here, but if nothing changes, she'll go back to the home and get bad again. I promised to see what I could do.
Georgina was eventually transferred back to the children's home, and is getting better all the time. You can see from the photo that though her legs are still pencil-thin, her torso's getting downright chubby. I think the mothers have been instructed to put extra protein formula in her food, and it's helping. Georgina now consumes everything in sight and is actually sitting up by herself.
She's the one hope I have. She's the one child I saw go from bad to better. Thank you God for Georgina, and may she continue to improve.

Evan

2008-05-25T04:41:00.000-07:00

Well, anyone who knows anything about my experience in Ghana knows about Evan. I was looking at this very odd-looking baby when a Dutch volunteer came up and started telling me about him. She first pointed out that he had six fingers and six toes, which I thought might be a side-effect of whatever made him look so odd. Then she explained to me that this tiny thing was actually six months old, but was starving to death because he threw up everything he was fed. When I expressed that there were doctors for that sort of thing and why wasn't he in the hospital on an IV, she looked at me and said, "Please, he's positive." He had aids so the doctors didn't bother to make sure he didn't starve to death.
Then I was asking one of the mothers his name, and found out the he was really a she named Evandra. I was like, ok. However, when I went to go change her diaper, I discovered my original instincts were correct. She was a he. The mothers had read the wrong line on the form and were calling him by his mother's name. When I pointed out their mistake, they decided it was too late now to learn his real name, so they decided to call him Evan. I was like, so a baby's dying of AIDs in Africa, and no one even knows his name.
I soon discovered that if you didn't allow Evan, who was surprisingly full of life, to guzzle his food like he wanted to, but fed him in tiny sips and gave him time to swallow in between bites, he would keep everything down. Not that this was an easy process. Feeding him took an hour or more, but I was willing to take the time to prolong his life until some organizations in the States I had begged for money from responded. However, the mothers resented the time I took with him. Why spend hours on a lost cause when they are bogged down with work for children who have a chance in life? I didn't mind when they yelled at me, but it was really hard to see a mother take the child from me and pour the rest of the food down his throat and watch Evan throw up not just what she fed him, but probably everything I painstakingly gave him also. But despite everything, he began to get better.
As Evan improved, he began to act more like his age, though he still looked like a premature infant. He loved to beat the air with his fists. We developed this game where he would shove his fist into my face, and I would kiss it until he snatched it away. When he did so, he would give me a hint of a smile. Then he would shove his fist into my face again.
Then one day, out of the blue, Evan died. I heard that he woke up unable to breathe. They took him to the hospital, but the hospital wouldn't admit him. I guess they thought he was a lost cause. I knew he didn't have much of a chance, but it was really hard for me anyway, because I had fallen totally in love with him. Now every time I see a fist I think of him.
Maybe he's playing the fist game with Jesus right now.

Crazy Stories

2008-05-24T16:09:00.001-07:00

When I was in Ghana, I prided myself on doing all these crazy things and having all these crazy stories. How many people do you know that have had a cab driver ask “Did he sex you?” How many people have been chased by policemen for crossing the grass in the wrong place? What about getting locked in an apartment and having to climb over a wall in the middle of the night to get out? And these are just some of the stories that help me stand apart from the other people in Ghana with me. If you put me in an American context, how many people do you know who've eaten rats, bats, and fish eyeballs? Who has been asked if they were married in front of an entire church of single men? And the list could go on.
We came to Ghana to learn about another culture – to find out how much we could tolerate and to try to learn to accept another perspective. Lofty goals. However, we were expected to accomplish them by having “experiences.” The more you've done and put up with, the better a person you are. You've found out what you're made of, how much of another culture you can tolerate. You've challenged yourself and seen just how far out of your comfort zone you can go. And at the same time, you've validated another culture by participating in it. Good for you. Everyone admires you and is jealous of what you've accomplished.
You know what? Bologna. I've been telling my stories with pride, with the added benefit of being able to be wildly entertaining by putting everything in a sarcastic light so everyone ends up laughing. But what am I proud of? What are we laughing at? At the corruption in the Ghanian police system? At my ability to eat anything no matter how much I might be abusing my body? What have I really gained?
Corruption is part of what keeps Ghanians so poor. I'm enjoying experiencing part of what might have starved a child. Ghanian's lack of mastery of the English language and preoccupation with sex holds them back and leads to problems with AIDs. A poorly constructed and vulgar sentence is really funny. And what, may I ask, is so special about climbing over a wall or being proposed to by a bunch of desperate Christian men? Seems more sad to me – only funny because it happened in Africa. About the food... the only thing I seem to have gained from that experience is a bunch of parasites.
Not all experiences are good or worthwhile. In the end, how did the crazy things I did benefit me or anyone else? They make for good stories, but those stories often poke fun at terrible aspects of Ghanian life or merely exalt myself. It seems like I haven't learned anything about tolerance after all. I've only learned how wonderful I am and how silly Ghanians can be. And I certainly didn't do Ghanians any favors or show them any love. You know, I went to Ghana because I wanted to learn how I might be able to make a difference someday, and instead I let myself be influenced by the people around me. I learned I am an arrogant monster.

Worse than a Dog

2008-05-24T09:34:00.000-07:00

When I got home from Africa, the most unexpected change was this animosity I felt towards my beloved dog. I resented any attention my mother paid her – talking to her, combing her, feeling sorry that it was raining too hard for a walk. I was especially unwilling to accommodate my dog's desire to share the bed with me. My mother complained that I was being unnecessarily harsh towards “a member of the family,” but that irritated me all the more. My response was always the same. “She's so spoiled,” I would yell. “She's a dog.” My mother told me I needed to search my heart about what caused this change in her former queen of dog-spoilers.
At first I thought I just wasn't used to being around dogs. The dogs where I lived were creatures to be feared an avoided, not loved. They were mangy, gaunt from lack of food, and mistrusting of humans. On top of all that, they weren't given their rabies shots, so they were potential death traps as well. Before I left people joked that it would be really hard for me not to touch any “cute animals.” but it turned out to be not problem. I was happy to stay far away.
But could four months of avoiding an animal really undo a lifetime of love and affection? As I thought more about it, I realized there was something else that prompted my attitude. For four months I had volunteered in an orphanage. For four months I watched helplessly as children were treated worse than my dog. I watched children go without meals because people didn't donate enough money that month. My dog's bowl was always full. I watched children sleep on mats on a concrete floor. My dog slept on a bed. I watched children play with trash and rocks. My dog always had a plethora of new toys. Worst of all, I sat and held children as their parents walked away. My dog's family rand to her every time she cried. And I'm supposed to be ok with this?
It's a cruel world, but unfortunately, I can't change any of that by being meaner to my dog. If only it were that simple – as if love unused in one place would automatically spill to another. Wouldn't it be wonderful if love were like molecules, moving from a place of higher concentration to a less-densely populated area? But instead, the more you give, the more you have to give. So I guess the only thing to do is to try harder to love my dog, despite the injustice of her situation Oh yeah, and I can look for more ways to love a child as well.
In the meantime, maybe I should take some time to thank God that I live in a country where children are treated even better than my dog.

Doing One's Part

2008-05-15T15:17:00.000-07:00

If you own a $2000 purse, you're not doing enough.

I say this as much in judgment of myself as I do of anyone who actually owns such a purse. The statement came from the second time I saw New York City for the first time.
As my father drove me home from the airport after I had spent a semester at an orphanage in Africa, I was transported back to the first time I had driven through those streets. Only this time I was thinking very different thoughts than I was when my father drove his star-struck fifteen-year-old into New York City for her big summer away from home. I remember looking out of the window at the stores on Fifth Avenue and feeling I had finally found where I belonged. Here was the home of those amazing clothes, those designer purses, those mysterious and alluring sunglasses. That first summer in The City I had wanted desperately to fit in. Over the years I've welcomed each new opportunity to spend even a fraction of the money that will get me closer to looking New-York perfect.
Now, as I pass those same stores, I don't see perfection, I see waste. I see selfishness. I saw a mass of people – any one of whom could have saved an orphan like Kojo or Isaac. Kojo has a brian tumor. The doctors in Africa gave him a year to live because they couldn't perform the operation he needed. Only adoption by someone in Great Britain or the United States, where the operation was done, could have saved him. Over the past months I've watched him deteriorate to the point where no doctor in the world could do him any good. Isaac has HIV. Without money for the medical care necessary to keep him alive, Isaac is destined to become another statistic, dead before the age of five. Right now he's toddling around the orphanage and charming everyone who visits, but who knows how long he'll last?
My father understood that I was grieving – reacting to a side of life most New Yorkers never see. And he made a good point – most of the people I saw do contribute to charities. They just don't contribute to the people I had grown to love. We can't save the whole world, he reminded me, we each do our part. And it's not wrong to enjoy the fruits of our labor as well, is it?
Then it hit me. Since when has my father brought me up to be “good enough?” Since when have my grades been “good enough?” Since when has my performance at my job been “good enough?” Come to think of it, I was actually raised to do everything I could do, and if that wasn't enough, to do a little more. I was raised to believe that in this world, bosses don't want someone who “tries.” Successful people aren't the ones who “get a little closer” to their goal. In fact, great Biblical heros like Abraham and Paul didn't really seem interested in “doing enough” either. Where did this apathetic thinking come from?
I think I know.
The problem is that people view need like they view the continent of Africa itself – as a massive, unsolvable problem. And they contribute into that ambiguous “need,” which is all that anyone could expect them to do. But when I think of need I think of Kojo. I think of Isaac. Needs have names, and someone's “good enough” wasn't enough for them.