A New Season

"You can't relive the past."

This phrase is usually connected with things we wish we could change or circumstances we wish we would have handled differently. But lately, it's taken on a new meaning for me. One that is almost harder to deal with at times.

There are some amazing, beautiful seasons of life that come and go. For me, spending five months in Africa is an experience I will never, ever forget. It was life changing. But if I allow my mind to stay in that season, I miss out on the beauty of this one. I miss out on the joy held within the precious moments that slip through my fingers like grains of sand. It's so easy to start comparing life as it is now to life as it has been in the past. To wish that things were different, or that I could go back.

I've come to realize that I can't relive the time I spent in Africa. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and things will never be the same. Honestly, it hard to accept that sometimes because those memories are so close to my heart. Their roots go deep. There is often a sweet sadness I experience as I see the pictures of those precious children or think of all the memories that are build within those months. A sweet sadness, knowing that that season is over, never to be relived again. But there is also a tingle of excitement mixed in, because I know that there are new adventures, new seasons, still to come. They won't be the same as Africa, but they will be beautiful in their own special way. I don't want to miss out on them because I'm too busy dwelling on the past.

I'm sure that you also have seasons of life you wish you could relive. Maybe it was time spent overseas. Or maybe it was a vacation you took. Or maybe you've recently moved or got a new job and you miss the place you left behind. Change is inevitable in this life - you can't avoid it no matter how hard you try. In this time of change, I'm learning that there is great power in thankfulness. God took me on that adventure for a reason, and so I choose to be thankful for that time. I choose to be thankful for the lessons learned and the memories made. It's not an easy choice, but it's necessary in order to move on and face each new season with eager expectation. Being thankful allows me to cherish the memories and yet not hold onto them so tightly that I forget that God is doing a new thing in my life at this very moment. Something bigger than I see - something beautiful.

(this was re-posted from my other blog, Written Upon My Heart, as I felt that it really reflects what God is doing in my life in relation to my time spent in Africa. Over 5 months have passed, and yet God continues to teach me lessons from my overseas adventures!)

(These photos were taken in Swaziland while our team was doing ministry in and with local churches.)

a real hurt to real people

His name was Paul.

The small room was dimly lit, with the only light coming from the rays of sun that filtered through the window in the corner. Directly inside the wooden frame that served as a doorway, a single thin mattress was placed on the cement floor. On this cot lay the form of a young man who seemed to be no older than 10, yet was actually 27 years of age. He faced towards the wall and was curled up into the fetal position, a light blanket draped across his frail, emaciated body. An open sore was visible on his shoulder. The sight of it all was almost too much to take in, and I felt as if I had just been punched in the stomach. Never before in my life had I seen a human being in such horrible condition. As we knelt down to pray over him, I couldn't stop the tears. They flowed freely down my face as I was confronted with the reality of AIDS.

Her name was Joyce.

Her cot was in a small room only feet away from where Paul lay. As we walked through the door, she used the little strength she had to push herself up until she was sitting halfway. Despite the condition of her body and the disease that taunted her day after day, a brilliant smile shone from her face. It was as if a ray of hope had been placed in her very being. It's hard to understand how someone in that situation could have so much joy, yet I can't shake the fact that it was so very true and genuine in her. Most people would have simply given up, but her actions clearly showed that she was clinging to God's love, joy and peace.

Those vivid images replayed themselves over and over the entire taxi ride back to the base, and are still today deeply engrained in my mind. Before this day in Uganda, I knew that AIDS existed. During our lecture phase we had talked about it in class - I knew the facts and statistics. But that was the day that the statistics became real. AIDS is a real hurt to real people.

But the story doesn't end there. The woman caring for these two AIDS victims was no ordinary woman. From the outside there may have been nothing noticeably different, but we learned that she also was battling HIV. Unfortunately I don't remember her name, but I do remember her story and her example. I was, and am, amazed at her selflessness and genuine love for others. Yes, she was also in the midst of a life-changing reality, but she didn't put the focus on herself and her needs. Instead, she chose to reach out and love - such a beautiful picture of selfless love. It was a privilege and honor to spend time in this woman's home; to have the opportunity to pray with her and the precious people she was caring for. She was living out her faith in such a real way - in a way that puts many of us to shame.

While these situations were real, and the outcome of their stories seems certain, I don't want that to be the entire focus of this. I truly hope that by reading this you became more aware of the fact that AIDS is not just some insignificant disease out there. There are many myths, and also facts, about how it is spread and who can get it, but the bottom line is that it is a real hurt to real people. But I also hope that you are also challenged by this woman's selfless love, just as I was. This love that Christ flawlessly displayed for us is meant to be lived out by those who are His followers. How it is shown will look different for each of us, but the driving force behind it is still the same: Love others as Christ has loved you.

Let go and say "Yes"

 

It was only day three of outreach, and already things weren't going as planned. At least, things weren't going according to our plan. But that was simply the first of many lessons in store for us during our time in Swaziland. There comes a point where we have to simply let go of plans and be willing to say "yes" to wherever God leads. And that's where this story begins.

On our first week of outreach, we were stationed at a YWAM base on the outskirts of Mbabane, the capital city of Swaziland. During this week we did a variety of different ministries, which included a soccer outreach, visiting widows, and a kids camp. On this particular day though, our team was visiting a local family that had 18 children (not all biological) and was involved with YWAM ministry in that area. Traveling to their home included a somewhat speedy taxi ride through the sharp turns of the surrounding mountains, finished off by a bouncy drive up a steep dirt road. But nonetheless, we were ready for the day of manual labor. Working in the fields, helping around the house, and being of use wherever possible was on our agenda.

But when we arrived, we started to realize that our day wasn't going to work out quite the way we had planned. We learned that this family was in one of the hardest spots they had ever been in. They were a hardworking, Christian family who loved the Lord, and His light and love were so very evident within their home. They fully trusted in God, and even in the midst of hardships of the past they had kept on pushing forward. But at this particular point, they were struggling and having difficulties making ends meet. Due to these complications, as well as some other factors, hope was beginning to fade. They believed that God is good and He is faithful, but it was getting harder and harder to trust. They were on the verge of giving up.

So they asked us if, instead of doing physical labor, we could spend some time encouraging them. To be honest, we weren't prepared for this. Our team spent some time alone in prayer and worship, asking God to give us wisdom and guidance for this situation. Thankfully God doesn't need people who have it all together, He simply wants willing hearts. It's in our weaknesses that God's power is revealed even more fully. Over the course of the next two days, we spent time with this family praying, worshiping our Heavenly Father together, sharing encouragement, and also hearing their testimonies. The amazing thing is that God works in ways that we could never imagine. He takes the insignificant little that we have to offer, and turns it into something beautiful. Something that displays His power and brings glory to His name.

What really touched me, as the second day came to a close, was when the father of the family told us that he had the strength to keep on pressing forward; to continue trusting in the Lord. It wasn't because of anything we did, it was because of the HOPE and PEACE that only God can bring. Not only were they blessed by what the Lord did, but I left those two days encouraged and challenged as well. I was challenged by the fact that this family was choosing to trust in God, despite the hardships they were facing, and encouraged by the truth that God desires to use us in powerful ways even though what we have to offer is so insignificant. Outreach didn't start off quite as planned, but the lesson I learned here was an important one which I would be reminded of over and over again in the weeks to come.

There's more than one type of poverty

“When is your birthday?” I asked.
“I don't have.” came the quick reply.
“You mean, you forgot when it is?” I questioned, confused by his answer.
“No money is there for birthdays. A long time ago we had money for them, but not any more.”

The hot Ugandan sun beat down on the grassy field where we played. Cows were grazing nearby, and scattered about were groups of children. Some were engaging in the various sports that were taking place, while others quietly sat under the open pavilion and watched the action. I stood, badminton racket in hand, opposite from a young boy who had asked me to play with him. As our game progressed, more than once laughter or an apology escaped from my lips, simply because I was so terrible at the game. But that didn't seem to matter to Timothy**. He patiently waited, and soon his easygoing personality drew me to ask him questions about himself.

It started off as most casual introductions do - what was his name, his age, his favorite sport, and perhaps how many siblings he had. But it didn't take long for me to realize that I had made assumptions about this young man without really knowing it. Just like many twelve year old boys, he has dreams for the future. Big dreams. In fact, he told me that after completing secondary school he would like to study to become a doctor. And seeing how bright and intelligent he was, I'm sure he would do well. But unlike most youth his age, his dreams are dangling by a delicate thread. Challenges are looking him straight in the face, threatening to crush those dreams into a million pieces. You see, his father doesn't want him to pursue this dream - he would rather him study other things. And his family doesn't even have enough money for birthdays, let alone medical school.

Maybe to some the thought that this family has little extra money isn't a big deal, but to me it was hard hitting. It reminded me once again just how much I take for granted. But even more saddening was the other type of poverty he faced. A degree of poverty which has an impact far deeper than a lack of money. This was where my assumptions had kicked in. I assumed that Timothy was a part of one of the families we had been getting to know, and therefore he was growing up in a Christian home. But as our conversation progressed and I asked him what his favorite Bible story was, he simply answered, "I'm Muslim."

He didn't seem at all offended by my question, and it didn't change our friendship in the least bit. The game of badminton went on. We continued to talk. But because of this new information, God gave me a special mission. I knew that this was probably the first and last time I would see Timothy, and the impact that I individually would make in this short time was probably minimal. But thankfully God isn't bound to human limitations. He is always at work, and I trust that He will continue to bring people into this young man's life to be living examples of the love and the hope that only He can bring. I was challenged to fight for this family through prayer, because I believe that prayer really does make a difference. I'm committing to pray that God would not only meet their physical needs, but that they would understand and believe in the truth of the gospel, and that it would radically change their family.

This circumstance was a powerful reminder to me that all over the world, whether it be in a expensive housing district in upper class America or in a small dirt hut in the middle of Africa, people everywhere face spiritual poverty. Physical poverty is a real issue that needs to be addressed, but in the process we can't forget that there is another type of poverty that is just as real, even if unseen from the outside. So I'd like to ask you to join me in prayer not only for Timothy and his family, but also for the thousands of other families that experience physical and spiritual poverty. Through truly living our faith, loving like Jesus, and being faithful prayer warriors, I believe that God can and will use us to bring people into His kingdom.

**This name has been changed as a safety precaution to protect the family's privacy. 
Other than this name change, all other details are as accurate as possible.

As I mentioned in the last post, I will be posting stories from our team's time in Swaziland and Uganda. This is the first story I have written from our time there, and I hope to post them weekly from here on out.  

This is only the beginning

DTS has three days left. 

It may seem like the end, but the truth is that it is only the beginning. So much has happened in the past four and a half months, but that was only an introduction to all that is to come. At times I was taken way outside of my comfort zone, and it was hard. But looking back, I'm so glad that I had those growing points. God taught me how to grow and how to go deeper with Him. And in this life, I can never go deep enough. There is always more growth that can happen. So, this is only the start.

My next project is to present a story collection. After arriving back in Iowa, I hope to do a series of posts that highlight the experiences and stories of our time in Swaziland and Uganda. Your support, whether it be through prayer or finances, has been very much appreciated, and I want to share with you the impact that it had on my life as well as in the lives of others. God has worked in amazing ways and, if possible, I'd love to give you just a little glimpse of that. Without you, I wouldn't be here. I couldn't be at Ten Thousand Homes today if it weren't for the overwhelming support that I have received from family, friends, and my church family. All I can say is thank you. Thank you for investing into my life and for encouraging me in this step of faith God called me to. Thank you for faithfully praying for me and my DTS family as we shared God's love with the people of Uganda and Swaziland. Thank you.

I'm not going to pretend that re-entry into American culture is going to be easy. In fact, I know it's going to be difficult. But one thing that God has developed in me is a deep reliance on His strength and wisdom. He has proven to me time and time again that He will give me all that I need to each circumstance I face. And so I trust that He will also give me wisdom as I come back to Iowa. I still don't know what I'll do after DTS - but that's ok. I will continue to press into God, and trust that He will guide me in this next chapter of life.

This is only the beginning. Not only are there stories still to be told, there are stories yet to be written.