Rain.

The other day I found myself walking along a dirt path and looking across plowed fields that are ready for another planting season. Each year, at this time, there is a sense of expectation all over this land as arrangements are made for seed and fertilizer to be bought and hard manual labor to be exercised within the fields. It is all done with the hope that, in due season, a harvest will be reaped. But when the preparations are complete and the seeds have been planted, we must wait for what we cannot control. Although the sun is hot and the earth remains dry, we ask God for rain. Sometimes it comes.
In the same way, fighting against poverty, disease, and injustice is a journey that requires dedication and compassion. Grace is needed to speak on behalf of those whose cries would otherwise not be heard; and patience must be practiced as we wait in hope and long for what is not yet seen- a Kingdom where there is no hunger or thirst, where there is no selfishness and pride, where there are no orphans or forgotten ones, where there is no more pain or death. Oh, how I thank God for the holy moments and for the glimpses of breakthrough when His goodness compels and empowers us to loosen bonds of wickedness and heavy burdens are undone; when His love moves our hearts to share our bread with those who hunger; when His grace allows us to welcome the broken-hearted into our lives as if they were our own.
In 2003, a 12 year old boy named Shadrack stood beside his brothers and sisters as their mom’s body was lowered into the ground. His mom was a young, single mother of six named Selina whose life was cut short by HIV/AIDS. She owned no land and had nothing materially to leave her children. At the burial, the three grown children, along with other family members, did not feel they were able to take on the burden of raising the three younger children--Jane, Shadrack and Caroline. After the ceremony ended, one by one, everyone left; leaving three children to not only grieve the loss of their mother but to have no clue what would be the future of their own lives. David Tarus, cofounder of ELI Kenya, was at the burial. He saw this desperate situation and was moved with compassion. He told these wondering children, “Let’s go home.” This reality was the beginning of his vision for a children’s home for orphans. Six years later, there are nearly 200 orphans in ELI Children’s Homes and many other orphans and vulnerable children within the community that are under our care. Each has a story of loss and hope interwoven together.
Thanks to friends at ELI, together with his sisters, Shadrack was sponsored to go to school since the 7th grade. He worked very hard and successfully finished high school in 2008. Earlier this month, we received the results from the national exam taken by all high school seniors, and Shadrack excelled with a grade of A- which will allow him to be accepted and go to a national university. Recently, I sat down with this now 18 year old young man and listened to him tell his story. He shared that he hopes to, one day, become a pilot. He also expressed his thanks to David Tarus and to ELI for assisting his family. He explained, “Without the help of ELI, I would have had to dream small. Tarus took the burden to see that I got an education. Now I can help others in the future who are in the same state as me.”
It is amazing what happens when true religion is lived out. The hope and future of orphans are reclaimed. And as we walk with God, we learn to love. There is much work to be done; but like the farmer, we must wait for what we cannot control. We ask God for rain; and when it comes, it is like a breath of fresh air received with great joy.

High Places.

On Sunday morning, as I thought about going to church, I felt led to worship God by going to sit with a dear lady named Helen. Helen is in the painful process of dying from metastatic stomach cancer. Large surgical scars tell of her fight. A massively distended abdomen, as the rest of her body wastes away, shows that the battle continues to rage. Although the cancer threatens Helen’s body, it does not define who she is. She is a wife and a mother. She is a school teacher. She is a friend. Helen is a child of God who bears His image.

As I sat quietly beside her I experienced the Presence of God in the form of peace, and it was a beautiful gift. At one point, I read a passage of Scripture that, for the past year or so, has been within me. Its message confronts me when I am tempted to want God for the things He gives rather than for who He is. It challenges my spirit when I blame God for the things it appears He has withheld. It offers me a choice when the circumstances that surround feel like everything good has been stripped away. Will I trust God or will I walk in fear? Habakkuk 3:17-19 says: “Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails, and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights.”

Several months ago, I had the privilege of spending five days in a beautiful little French town at the base of the Jura Mountains. It was an amazing time of retreat and spiritual direction. In my closing session, one of the counselors quoted Psalm 18:33, which says: “He makes my feet like the feet of deer. And sets me on the high places.” She explained that, throughout our time together, this was how she pictured me: sure-footed as a deer, belonging on the high places. Her words moved me and surprised me as they spoke directly to my fears. You see, throughout my life, I have always been a bit clumsy. By nature, I prefer safer, well traveled routes. And yet, the journey God has me on continues to lead me to places that feel narrow and too steep for me to climb. In this process that stretches me and exposes my weakness, I find comfort in Jesus’ words: “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.”

I recently read this beautiful book called Hinds Feet for High Places. It is the story of a Loving Shepherd inviting a girl named Much-Afraid to journey with Him. He leads her through difficult places and gives her unlikely companions to walk with: Sorrow and Suffering. After she passes through many dangers which confront her tormenting fears, she emerges transformed and is able to go to the High Places for which she was made. The Shepherd gives Much-Afraid her new name, Grace and Glory; and because of the journey, her friends, Sorrow and Suffering, are changed into Joy and Peace. The Shepherd explains:

It was these lessons which you have learned which enabled me to change you from limping, crippled Much-Afraid into Grace and Glory with hinds’ feet. Now you are able to run, leaping on the mountains and able to follow me wherever I go, so that we need never be parted again. So remember this: as long as you are willing to be Acceptance-with-Joy and Bearing-in-Love, you can never again become crippled, and you will be able to go wherever I lead you.”

As I prepared to leave Helen’s home, she asked me to tell her about the Shepherd that leaves us without want, the One who promised to lead by quiet waters and to restore our souls. The One, whose Presence, even in the valley of the shadow of death, is our hope of living without fear.

Thank you for your prayers and support.