“None of us, I am sure knows the pain of hunger,
but one day I learned it from a little child.
I found the child in the street and I saw in her face that
terrible hunger that I have seen in many eyes.
Without questioning her I gave her a piece of bread, and then
I saw that the little child was eating the bread crumb by crumb.
And I said to her: Eat the bread. And that little one looked at me and said:
I am afraid because when the bread is finished I will be hungry again.”
-Mother Teresa
I have been looking into the eyes of children who are experiencing “terrible hunger”. Whether their hunger is from lack of food or from lack of love, their eyes tell their stories of pain and emptiness and they ask questions about the hope of their futures. Two weeks ago, a desperate grandmother stood before me asking for help. She was holding a chubby baby that, upon first glance, appeared to be approximately six months old and healthy. But when she gave me the child to assess him further, I was shocked to see that his mouth was full of teeth. I quickly asked the age of the baby; and the grandmother responded: “fifteen months”. I was moved as she told me of her struggle to care for her grandson, Kevin. Close to the time of Kevin’s birth, his father passed away; and when he was merely four months old, his mother left to try and find work. She has not returned.
Kevin has been surviving on a diet of only cornmeal porridge. Amongst the poor, diets often consist of single staples, such as maize, which have a low protein to energy ratio. His “chubbiness” was, ironically enough, the result of severe malnutrition that caused his body to swell. His growth was stunted, and he was significantly delayed developmentally. Unable to crawl, stand, walk, speak or play; this little one rested in my arms. I asked God for help, for wisdom.
Kwashiorkor, the form of protein and micronutrient deficiency Kevin suffers with, was termed by the Ga tribe in Ghana for being “the disease of the displaced child”. It was originally given this name because it was a condition typically seen in young children prematurely weaned from their mother’s breast milk after the birth of a subsequent child. In today’s world, the consequences of HIV/AIDS and extreme poverty have brought new meaning and significance to these “displaced” children. Their vulnerability is not only from losing the nourishment of their mothers. They have lost their mothers themselves. Their struggle for survival, for hope is great.
Kevin arrived to Tumaini na Afya’s Kimbilio Center (Hope & Health’s Refuge) weighing thirteen pounds. He was irritable and weak. Within one week of receiving a special formula and lots of love, Kevin has stabilized. He has been eating well and has gained a pound. He has begun to laugh and play; and quite unbelievably, he has gained enough strength to stand up by himself and is trying to walk. When I think about Kevin, I think about a powerful promise that Jesus gave when he said: “if you receive a child in my name, you receive me.”
I recently held another little baby so beaten by this world. She was covered in filth; but as I held her frightened body, I was struck by the thought that our value has nothing to do with what we possess. It does depend upon our appearance or by what we do. Washing the child was not going to make her worthy of affection. Her value was hidden under dirt and rags, and this is what caused us to bathe her.
When I think about the suffering of these “displaced” children, there are so many questions that I do not have answers to. Sometimes the circumstances that surround are so overwhelming I do not even know what questions to ask. But my prayer is that God will give me the grace to keep looking into their eyes and the compassion to give a cup of water, a piece of bread, or whatever may be required in Jesus name.
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, March 06, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Enlarge my heart.
Enlarge my heart. This is my request of God. Beyond my understanding, I am convinced it is His desire for me. It is as David prayed: “I shall run the course of Your commandments, for You shall enlarge my heart.” (Psalm 119:32). Jesus said that the greatest commandments were to love God and man fully. On my own, I am often reminded that it is not possible. Love cannot exist with or be extended from fear. Love suffers long and is kind: love does not envy; love doesn’t parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things (1 Corinthians 13:4-7). My only hope at love is for Love Himself to transform and enlarge my heart. The miracle is He is able and willing.
God has surrounded me with beauty and pain, joy and suffering; and it is changing me. Over the past few months, God has reawakened a passion within me to care for the dying. As I prepared to move to Kenya in 2004, I wrote in a letter that “this is the burden that God has put on my heart: that people should not have to die alone.” By God’s grace, over the past five years, loving those who are in the process of dying and those who grieve no longer feels like a burden, I consider it a gift. It is not easy or glamorous and it is incredibly painful at times, but I would not trade the holy moments I have been allowed for anything. Priorities are in perspective. There is no pretending or pretense. God is present. His Father’s heart that endlessly pursues and lavishly welcomes his lost and broken kids is doing just that. With so much compassion, I hear Him saying: "My child, you were never meant to be alone. I know you and everything that you have done, but I could not love you anymore than I do. You're afraid and so ashamed, but you are safe with Me. I will not turn you away. In fact, I long for you to come, just as you are, to Me. I will give you rest." Imagine, the times He chooses to speak these words through one of our mouths or allows our touch to usher one into His Presence. It is sacred.
For one week, I got the chance to love an 18 year old girl named Faith. Her appearance struck me as she entered the examination room at the HIV clinic. She was beautiful but very sick. She was child-like but experiencing consequences of adult decisions that were very probably forced upon her. Her body was wasted but there was still life in her eyes. She moved my heart; and when I heard she was from Kipkaren, I wanted to be her friend. Tuberculosis had destroyed one of her lungs completely. As we walked out of the clinic, she leaned against me. The look in her eyes as I told her we would take her home in our car caused my eyes to fill with tears. I glimpsed the relief that she felt, if only for a moment, that she did not have to struggle to walk, or ride on the back of a bicycle, the long journey home. On Saturday, I visited Faith at the hospital as she had been admitted the previous day for severe dehydration. I sat with my friend as she struggled for air. I bought her french-fries as she requested and prayed the Comforter would come and do just that. Faith passed away last night, and my heart aches because of the loss. Beyond measure, I am also grateful that God allowed me to encounter His treasure. God used Faith to enlarge my heart.
God has surrounded me with beauty and pain, joy and suffering; and it is changing me. Over the past few months, God has reawakened a passion within me to care for the dying. As I prepared to move to Kenya in 2004, I wrote in a letter that “this is the burden that God has put on my heart: that people should not have to die alone.” By God’s grace, over the past five years, loving those who are in the process of dying and those who grieve no longer feels like a burden, I consider it a gift. It is not easy or glamorous and it is incredibly painful at times, but I would not trade the holy moments I have been allowed for anything. Priorities are in perspective. There is no pretending or pretense. God is present. His Father’s heart that endlessly pursues and lavishly welcomes his lost and broken kids is doing just that. With so much compassion, I hear Him saying: "My child, you were never meant to be alone. I know you and everything that you have done, but I could not love you anymore than I do. You're afraid and so ashamed, but you are safe with Me. I will not turn you away. In fact, I long for you to come, just as you are, to Me. I will give you rest." Imagine, the times He chooses to speak these words through one of our mouths or allows our touch to usher one into His Presence. It is sacred.
For one week, I got the chance to love an 18 year old girl named Faith. Her appearance struck me as she entered the examination room at the HIV clinic. She was beautiful but very sick. She was child-like but experiencing consequences of adult decisions that were very probably forced upon her. Her body was wasted but there was still life in her eyes. She moved my heart; and when I heard she was from Kipkaren, I wanted to be her friend. Tuberculosis had destroyed one of her lungs completely. As we walked out of the clinic, she leaned against me. The look in her eyes as I told her we would take her home in our car caused my eyes to fill with tears. I glimpsed the relief that she felt, if only for a moment, that she did not have to struggle to walk, or ride on the back of a bicycle, the long journey home. On Saturday, I visited Faith at the hospital as she had been admitted the previous day for severe dehydration. I sat with my friend as she struggled for air. I bought her french-fries as she requested and prayed the Comforter would come and do just that. Faith passed away last night, and my heart aches because of the loss. Beyond measure, I am also grateful that God allowed me to encounter His treasure. God used Faith to enlarge my heart.
Sunday, February 01, 2009
Returning to Kenya.
I arrived safely back to Kenya and am trying to get over jet lag but wanted to take this opportunity to say thank you so much for the amazing hospitality that was extended to me while I was in the States. Honestly, I was so well taken care of. I will never be able to express in words my gratitude for the ways you have surrounded me and cheered for me as I seek to follow Christ. More than ever before, I know I cannot do this alone. It is equally clear that I was never intended to.
In unique and generous ways, love was poured out upon me by my family and friends. I think about the dear lady, who I had never met before, hugging me as she shared that she often wakes up in the middle of the night to pray for me. In one church, I was talking to a man who was standing with his little boy. The father asked his son: “who do we pray for every morning?” Without hesitation, the little boy pointed his finger towards me. His boldness caught me off guard and moved my heart. I had conversations with people who explained that, in spite of their hard economic situations, they wanted to continue to support the health ministry. One moment that continues to make me smile centers around a little girl named Molly. About a year and a half ago, I wrote an update about an orphaned child named Kipchumba. Molly’s mom had read the update in a church bulletin; and one night when Molly did not want to eat her supper, Molly’s mom told her about Kipchumba’s story. Molly left the dinner table that night and went to her dad to explain that she wanted to give all of the money in her piggybank to Kipchumba. Since then, Molly has written letters and drawn pictures for this little boy who lives on the other side of the world. God only knows if Molly will ever get to meet Kipchumba, but her generous love and child-like faith have helped to empower his life.
The night before I left for Kenya, I was laying in bed and thinking about the season of ministry that is ahead. In truth, I was feeling overwhelmed by uncertainties that fill our broken world. I sensed God saying to me: Are you going to believe Me? The real issue is not the world’s economic situation or on-going transitions that accompany ministry. This is about trust. Following Jesus will not allow me to lean on my own understanding. He will direct the paths, but I have to be willing to let go of my expectations of how God must act. I think about John the Baptist, a man whose purpose was to prepare the way for Jesus to come. When he was in prison, he sent a couple of friends to ask Jesus: “are you the Coming One or should we look for another?” Jesus was not acting the way he was expected to; and yet, I love his reply. He answered, “Go and tell John the things which you hear and see. The blind see and the lame walk; the lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear; the dead are raised up and the poor have the gospel preached to them. And blessed is he who is not offended because of Me” (Matthew 11:2-6). This message relayed back to John is what Jesus is still about: rescuing the lost, binding the broken, offering hope to the hopeless. His words about the poor are striking. Jesus did not say that the blind see and the lame walk… the dead are raised and the poor have become rich. No, Jesus said that good news was being offered to the poor. He was telling the worthless of the world: Take heart. There’s hope. I am Yours. That was their healing. It is also ours. While in the States, I was introduced to a man living in the streets of downtown Fresno. His name is Walker, and he explained that he has been clean from drugs for the past year and a half. When I asked him how he has the strength to get up each day and not turn back to drugs. Without hesitation, he answered with one word: "God."
I recently came across a quote that has challenged me greatly in what it means to be a Christian. It comes from a letter that was written in 131 AD, not by a Christian but about Christians, to the Emperor of Rome. It states:
“It is the Christians, O Emperor, who seem to have sought and found the truth; for they acknowledge God. They don’t keep for themselves the goods entrusted to them. They show love to their neighbors. “They don’t do to another what they would not want done to themselves. They speak gently to those who oppress them. In this way, they make their enemies their friends. It has become their passion to do good to their enemies. Everyone among them who has anything gives ungrudgingly to the one among them who has nothing. If they see a homeless stranger, they bring them in under their own roof. They rejoice over that brother or sister as if they were a real sister or brother. For they do not call one another sister or brother because of the flesh, but because of the Spirit of their God. If anyone among them is poor, while they themselves have little to spare, then the whole community will fast for two or three days until everyone can eat together. In this way, they can supply any poor person with what they need. This, O Emperor, is the rule of life of the Christians. This is the way that they have come to live.”
May we, as followers of Christ, continue to seek and find the truth. May we ever be growing in trust and in love.
In unique and generous ways, love was poured out upon me by my family and friends. I think about the dear lady, who I had never met before, hugging me as she shared that she often wakes up in the middle of the night to pray for me. In one church, I was talking to a man who was standing with his little boy. The father asked his son: “who do we pray for every morning?” Without hesitation, the little boy pointed his finger towards me. His boldness caught me off guard and moved my heart. I had conversations with people who explained that, in spite of their hard economic situations, they wanted to continue to support the health ministry. One moment that continues to make me smile centers around a little girl named Molly. About a year and a half ago, I wrote an update about an orphaned child named Kipchumba. Molly’s mom had read the update in a church bulletin; and one night when Molly did not want to eat her supper, Molly’s mom told her about Kipchumba’s story. Molly left the dinner table that night and went to her dad to explain that she wanted to give all of the money in her piggybank to Kipchumba. Since then, Molly has written letters and drawn pictures for this little boy who lives on the other side of the world. God only knows if Molly will ever get to meet Kipchumba, but her generous love and child-like faith have helped to empower his life.
The night before I left for Kenya, I was laying in bed and thinking about the season of ministry that is ahead. In truth, I was feeling overwhelmed by uncertainties that fill our broken world. I sensed God saying to me: Are you going to believe Me? The real issue is not the world’s economic situation or on-going transitions that accompany ministry. This is about trust. Following Jesus will not allow me to lean on my own understanding. He will direct the paths, but I have to be willing to let go of my expectations of how God must act. I think about John the Baptist, a man whose purpose was to prepare the way for Jesus to come. When he was in prison, he sent a couple of friends to ask Jesus: “are you the Coming One or should we look for another?” Jesus was not acting the way he was expected to; and yet, I love his reply. He answered, “Go and tell John the things which you hear and see. The blind see and the lame walk; the lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear; the dead are raised up and the poor have the gospel preached to them. And blessed is he who is not offended because of Me” (Matthew 11:2-6). This message relayed back to John is what Jesus is still about: rescuing the lost, binding the broken, offering hope to the hopeless. His words about the poor are striking. Jesus did not say that the blind see and the lame walk… the dead are raised and the poor have become rich. No, Jesus said that good news was being offered to the poor. He was telling the worthless of the world: Take heart. There’s hope. I am Yours. That was their healing. It is also ours. While in the States, I was introduced to a man living in the streets of downtown Fresno. His name is Walker, and he explained that he has been clean from drugs for the past year and a half. When I asked him how he has the strength to get up each day and not turn back to drugs. Without hesitation, he answered with one word: "God."
I recently came across a quote that has challenged me greatly in what it means to be a Christian. It comes from a letter that was written in 131 AD, not by a Christian but about Christians, to the Emperor of Rome. It states:
“It is the Christians, O Emperor, who seem to have sought and found the truth; for they acknowledge God. They don’t keep for themselves the goods entrusted to them. They show love to their neighbors. “They don’t do to another what they would not want done to themselves. They speak gently to those who oppress them. In this way, they make their enemies their friends. It has become their passion to do good to their enemies. Everyone among them who has anything gives ungrudgingly to the one among them who has nothing. If they see a homeless stranger, they bring them in under their own roof. They rejoice over that brother or sister as if they were a real sister or brother. For they do not call one another sister or brother because of the flesh, but because of the Spirit of their God. If anyone among them is poor, while they themselves have little to spare, then the whole community will fast for two or three days until everyone can eat together. In this way, they can supply any poor person with what they need. This, O Emperor, is the rule of life of the Christians. This is the way that they have come to live.”
May we, as followers of Christ, continue to seek and find the truth. May we ever be growing in trust and in love.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Retreat
I arrived safely to Southern California on Friday and am thankful for the opportunity to be here in the States for the next six weeks. I have come to spend Christmas with my family, to celebrate the wedding of one of my dearest friends, and to meet and share with churches and individuals about what God is doing in ELI’s health ministry.
I wanted to share about an amazing experience I had last week. On my way to the States, I had the privilege of spending five days in a beautiful little French town at the base of the Jura Mountains. I went for a retreat at a center called LeRucher. This center was created to be a refuge where missionaries could come "to be refreshed in their calling in God and remain effective to serve in difficult places.” Personally, it was a time for me to come away and receive spiritual direction from gifted counselors and to process some very difficult experiences that I have lived this year. In the moments of stillness I remembered God’s mercies and faithfulness. I was reminded of the passions and calling He has placed deep within me. With all that has been lost, my yearning to see God’s kingdom come remains unchanged. More than ever before, I am compelled to love from a pure heart. My desire is to walk humbly with God and to extend justice and mercy to those who surround me. I feel God urging me to speak on behalf of those whose voices can rarely be heard.
My final session involved an extended time of prayer and taking communion. In preparation for this, I was asked to write a letter to God as an expression of faith. I want to share part of it with you in hopes that it might encourage any of you who are facing uncertain futures, disappointments, loss, unanswered questions... It is raw but reflects a journey of hope God is leading within me:
My Jesus, You who journeyed to this broken world for the sake of loving me - I am Yours. Thank you for humbling Yourself, for giving up what was rightfully yours, to become poor. You, the King of all Kings, entered humanity as a vulnerable baby and were laid in a dirty cattle trough. You, the Creator of All, became dependent upon your creation. You experienced all of life: hunger and fullness, joy and pain, loneliness and deep relationship. You suffered terribly. You loved perfectly. You were tempted, misunderstood and rejected. You were betrayed by your dearest friends. You allowed your heart to be moved with compassion over suffering and grieved over the loss of your friend. You came with a purpose- to rescue what had been lost. It cost you everything. I will never understand. You broke through all boundaries to love me; and apart from my love, You had nothing to gain. Oh the foolishness of the cross. Of all the mysteries of the universe, this is the greatest; but your death and resurrection is my only hope for life. I will be forever grateful.
You have received me as I am and given me a new name. I am your delight. Your loving-kindness has pursued me every moment of my life and is a constant even when so many things I hold dear are being stripped away. In this season of brokenness, You have heard my prayers and allowed my crying to come before You. Thank you for being near to this broken heart. Beyond my understanding, You have been my strength and my song. Your mercies have been enough for each day and have carried me when I felt like giving up. Although Satan has tried to kill, steal and destroy my community, ministry, relationships and even my own heart; You, the giver of abundant life, are making all things new. I am confident that what is of You will remain. It will be purified.
This year I have lived through war, an earthquake, deaths of individuals that I have loved, dramatic transitions within ministry, and deep disappointment. I have watched as a community broke into chaos and bitter roots of hatred, pride, and fear thrived. Calm returned but the deep wounds were already gaping. The façade I had been living within of being a community where we love our neighbors came crashing down. The gap between the knowledge of our heads and the expressions of our hearts remained before us. Oh, be merciful to us and teach us how to live.
This journey has been like walking along a dirt path in the darkness of night. It is uneven, and I do not know where to step. I have felt alone and without clarity of direction. I have sensed the panic that comes with being lost. It has been desperately fearful and overwhelming. I have been deeply disappointed. I have stumbled along the way, but I have chosen to get back up and take another step. At times, the night seemed as if it would never end, and I have wondered if the darkness would swallow me within it. Desiring relief, I have looked for refuge in places that were unable to provide it. I have asked questions without answers and cried countless tears; but in the moments I have been still, I have heard your whisperings. They have been reminders that my loneliness is only an illusion, and I am not alone. The darkness has never been dark to You. You have not been limited by my questions. There have been times where the darkness threatened to steal all that is mine; but instead of succeeding, a deeper trust has been developed within me as I learn to walk by faith and not by sight.
My Jesus, it is You alone that can make light shine into the darkness. You can take what was meant for evil and use it for my good. In your gracious way, and for your glory alone, I trust You to restore and redeem what feels shattered and lost. I am hard pressed on every side, yet not crushed; I am perplexed but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed. Who then shall separate me from Your love? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril or sword?... Yet in all these things I am more than a conqueror through You who loves me. For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate me from Your love. Nimeamua kufuata Yesu. Sitarudi nyuma tena. (I have decided to follow Jesus. I will not return again). All my love is yours.
After I read this letter and began to take communion, I had a beautiful picture of Jesus picking the arrows, one by one, out of my heart. When there were no more, He gently put bandages to bind it back together. Whatever you may be facing this day, know that God has come near and He loves you as you are. He is the God that is able to restore what is broken.
I wanted to share about an amazing experience I had last week. On my way to the States, I had the privilege of spending five days in a beautiful little French town at the base of the Jura Mountains. I went for a retreat at a center called LeRucher. This center was created to be a refuge where missionaries could come "to be refreshed in their calling in God and remain effective to serve in difficult places.” Personally, it was a time for me to come away and receive spiritual direction from gifted counselors and to process some very difficult experiences that I have lived this year. In the moments of stillness I remembered God’s mercies and faithfulness. I was reminded of the passions and calling He has placed deep within me. With all that has been lost, my yearning to see God’s kingdom come remains unchanged. More than ever before, I am compelled to love from a pure heart. My desire is to walk humbly with God and to extend justice and mercy to those who surround me. I feel God urging me to speak on behalf of those whose voices can rarely be heard.
My final session involved an extended time of prayer and taking communion. In preparation for this, I was asked to write a letter to God as an expression of faith. I want to share part of it with you in hopes that it might encourage any of you who are facing uncertain futures, disappointments, loss, unanswered questions... It is raw but reflects a journey of hope God is leading within me:
My Jesus, You who journeyed to this broken world for the sake of loving me - I am Yours. Thank you for humbling Yourself, for giving up what was rightfully yours, to become poor. You, the King of all Kings, entered humanity as a vulnerable baby and were laid in a dirty cattle trough. You, the Creator of All, became dependent upon your creation. You experienced all of life: hunger and fullness, joy and pain, loneliness and deep relationship. You suffered terribly. You loved perfectly. You were tempted, misunderstood and rejected. You were betrayed by your dearest friends. You allowed your heart to be moved with compassion over suffering and grieved over the loss of your friend. You came with a purpose- to rescue what had been lost. It cost you everything. I will never understand. You broke through all boundaries to love me; and apart from my love, You had nothing to gain. Oh the foolishness of the cross. Of all the mysteries of the universe, this is the greatest; but your death and resurrection is my only hope for life. I will be forever grateful.
You have received me as I am and given me a new name. I am your delight. Your loving-kindness has pursued me every moment of my life and is a constant even when so many things I hold dear are being stripped away. In this season of brokenness, You have heard my prayers and allowed my crying to come before You. Thank you for being near to this broken heart. Beyond my understanding, You have been my strength and my song. Your mercies have been enough for each day and have carried me when I felt like giving up. Although Satan has tried to kill, steal and destroy my community, ministry, relationships and even my own heart; You, the giver of abundant life, are making all things new. I am confident that what is of You will remain. It will be purified.
This year I have lived through war, an earthquake, deaths of individuals that I have loved, dramatic transitions within ministry, and deep disappointment. I have watched as a community broke into chaos and bitter roots of hatred, pride, and fear thrived. Calm returned but the deep wounds were already gaping. The façade I had been living within of being a community where we love our neighbors came crashing down. The gap between the knowledge of our heads and the expressions of our hearts remained before us. Oh, be merciful to us and teach us how to live.
This journey has been like walking along a dirt path in the darkness of night. It is uneven, and I do not know where to step. I have felt alone and without clarity of direction. I have sensed the panic that comes with being lost. It has been desperately fearful and overwhelming. I have been deeply disappointed. I have stumbled along the way, but I have chosen to get back up and take another step. At times, the night seemed as if it would never end, and I have wondered if the darkness would swallow me within it. Desiring relief, I have looked for refuge in places that were unable to provide it. I have asked questions without answers and cried countless tears; but in the moments I have been still, I have heard your whisperings. They have been reminders that my loneliness is only an illusion, and I am not alone. The darkness has never been dark to You. You have not been limited by my questions. There have been times where the darkness threatened to steal all that is mine; but instead of succeeding, a deeper trust has been developed within me as I learn to walk by faith and not by sight.
My Jesus, it is You alone that can make light shine into the darkness. You can take what was meant for evil and use it for my good. In your gracious way, and for your glory alone, I trust You to restore and redeem what feels shattered and lost. I am hard pressed on every side, yet not crushed; I am perplexed but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed. Who then shall separate me from Your love? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril or sword?... Yet in all these things I am more than a conqueror through You who loves me. For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate me from Your love. Nimeamua kufuata Yesu. Sitarudi nyuma tena. (I have decided to follow Jesus. I will not return again). All my love is yours.
After I read this letter and began to take communion, I had a beautiful picture of Jesus picking the arrows, one by one, out of my heart. When there were no more, He gently put bandages to bind it back together. Whatever you may be facing this day, know that God has come near and He loves you as you are. He is the God that is able to restore what is broken.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Hope
Four years ago I met a little girl named Charity. She was three years old and an orphan living with her siblings and grandmother. I met her on only one occasion, but I have never forgotten her. Along with her older brother Benson, she was intended to come to the children's home that was being opened in a village called Ilula. I had just moved to Kenya and was a part of the team that went to pick up these two children for their medical check-ups. I still can hear the doctor's words: "This one," in reference to Charity, "is HIV positive." At that time, the children's home was not prepared to care for children living with HIV/AIDS; therefore, Charity was returned to stay at home with her grandmother. During my time in Kenya, I have often looked back on this day and wondered if there was something that could have been done differently.
Last week I felt God compelling me to go back to Charity's home. In my spirit, I knew it was time to stop wondering about this little one. I did not know what to expect in going. I did not even know if she was still alive. Without a further plan in place, I trusted that God's grace would cover the situation and lead me. After the two hour drive through terribly muddy and bumpy roads, I arrived back to the simple mud hut of this dear grandma and was greeted warmly by her and her grandchildren. Charity was the first to greet me. All I can say is that she was beautiful and so playful. She sat beside me, laughing and telling me stories in Kalenjiin.
Her grandma explained that she has been healthy. She attends a nearby HIV clinic monthly; and because her immune system is still functioning well, she has yet to be started on antiretrovirals. She receives food support from the clinic. She attends a local pre-school; and, almost perfectly, she recited her ABC's for me.
As I proceeded to leave, Charity walked me to the car. I sensed, in a powerful way, that God led me to Charity's home and not because I was to help and fix anything. Hopefully, I was an encouragement to the family; but the truth is, God desired to remind me that He is able. As the Psalms promise: "The needy will not always be forgotten. The hopes of the poor will not always be crushed."
In Kipkaren, so much hardship has surrounded us this year. There have been seasons of overwhelming suffering and disappointment. The phrase that comes to my mind is I had hoped. I had hoped that peace and justice would fill our community. Instead, I watched hatred, along tribal lines, kill and displace my neighbors. I had hoped, with all of my heart, that God would heal a baby named Felix. Instead, there is a little grave and a mother left to grieve. I had hoped that things would be different. I had hoped.
I think about Abram and Sarai who had hoped for a child. I cannot imagine the feelings Abram must have felt when God appeared to him and promised to give him a son (Genesis 15). He and his wife were too old. They had learned to live with barrenness. They had given up hope that they would bear their own child and were ready to settle for the obvious: a servant would be their heir.
God appeared to Abram and promised the impossible. Abram's choice to believe God required reopening broken places. It involved awakening lost dreams. To hope again was not a "safe" option. Could he and his wife possibly bear being disappointed again? In his crisis of belief, God led Abram outside and said: "Look up at the heavens and count the stars—if indeed you can count them. So shall your offspring be." Abram chose to believe.
Like Abram, I have been forced to make choices between settling for the obvious or trusting God for what simply seems impossible. In truth, at one time or another, we all have. Jesus promised: "In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world" (John 16:33). Wright states, "Hope for the Christian is not wishful thinking or mere optimism. It is a mode of knowing in which new things are possible. Options are not shut down. New creation can happen. God gives his people the feet to walk the path that they are on. God comes on the road and meets us in the midst of our broken places and catches us up in this movement of all things being made new."
Thank you for traveling with me on this journey of hope.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Fasting
Throughout this day, I have been challenged by the suffering that surrounds me. I have been asking God for wisdom and compassion to respond. I went to a home this morning to visit a three week old baby girl named Michelle. Her mother tragically died during childbirth. She had labored and delivered Michelle at home; but when the placenta failed to deliver, she was carried several kilometers to our clinic. She passed away upon arrival. She was a single mom and left behind three young children. As I sat beside the grandmother who is taking care of this baby, tears streamed down her face. She asked questions without answers. She wanted to know why four of her daughters have died. She talked of the pain that fills her, the responsibilities that feel unbearable. Then she said, with her hand on the baby’s forehead: “this is my blessing that God has left behind.”
As I listened to the words from this grandmother’s broken heart, a passage I read this morning in Isaiah flooded my mind. It says:
Is this not the fast that I have chosen: To loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, to let the oppressed go free, and that you break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and that you bring to your house the poor who are cast out; when you see the naked, that you cover him, and not hide yourself from your own flesh? Then your light shall break forth like the morning, your healing shall spring forth speedily, and your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard (58:6-8).
I considered this question: what must I be willing to give up, in this situation, in order to extend compassion? The answer, at least for the moment, was my comfort. I chose to be present with this family and to feel their pain. There were no simple answers to their loss, and so I refrained from trying to offer any. This may sound noble; but the truth is, it is the only thing I had to offer. As I left the home, I held this tiny gift from God and told her that she was loved, that she was known by God, that this was not her fault. I am convinced that, as Mother Teresa put into words, “only in heaven will we see how much we owe to the poor for helping us to love God better because of them”.
As I listened to the words from this grandmother’s broken heart, a passage I read this morning in Isaiah flooded my mind. It says:
Is this not the fast that I have chosen: To loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, to let the oppressed go free, and that you break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and that you bring to your house the poor who are cast out; when you see the naked, that you cover him, and not hide yourself from your own flesh? Then your light shall break forth like the morning, your healing shall spring forth speedily, and your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard (58:6-8).
I considered this question: what must I be willing to give up, in this situation, in order to extend compassion? The answer, at least for the moment, was my comfort. I chose to be present with this family and to feel their pain. There were no simple answers to their loss, and so I refrained from trying to offer any. This may sound noble; but the truth is, it is the only thing I had to offer. As I left the home, I held this tiny gift from God and told her that she was loved, that she was known by God, that this was not her fault. I am convinced that, as Mother Teresa put into words, “only in heaven will we see how much we owe to the poor for helping us to love God better because of them”.
Monday, August 25, 2008
The Blind Are Seeing
I wanted to say thank you to each of you who has been praying for Emily Cheptum. Her eye surgery was successful, and she is now able to see! It truly is a miracle. When she was discharged from the hospital yesterday, Emily asked to be driven around town because she had never been able to see it before. She arrived to Kipkaren and went straight to the children's home to see her 96 little friends. She has been commenting that some of us look different than she had imagined. It is amazing, and we are so grateful to God for the ways He is working in our midst. Thank you again for your prayers and support.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Emily Cheptum
When the Kingdom of God comes, a glimpse of what was intended to be breaks through the brokenness of this world and into our lives. Two years ago we welcomed 93 little ones into Kipkaren Children's Home. Like it was yesterday, I remember their bare feet and ragged clothes. I remember the tears that streamed down all of our faces as we were confronted with the love of God and the realization of a dream. The loss that had crushed the spirits of these children was unmistakable. Their eyes were filled with countless questions to be answered. I am grateful to God for the group of committed parents, directors, and the home that awaited them. More than mere need compelled us to care for these children. It was compassion. It has been indescribably beautiful to watch these children discover that they have a Father who knows them by name and loves them as they are. Standing outside one Saturday morning, as the sun was rising, I heard the children sing these words in Swahili: "If it weren't for You, where would I be?" And I realized that they know the love of Christ because there are a group of people who 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year pour out their lives and love for the sake of these children.
I wish there was a way to tell in words the transformation that is taking place within the lives of these children, as well as with us who have the privilege of living life with them. One man, who recently came to visit us, began to weep as he listened to the children sing and watched them dance. He later explained, "it was their pure joy that overwhelmed me". I have heard others share that they expected to feel sorry for the kids; but instead, they only see hope. For me, it is life-giving to watch them, even as children, learn to extend this same love that they have received. The children, on weekends, often ask to go into the community to visit the sick, the poor, the widows. They assist the people in carrying water, collecting firewood, and cleaning the compound. The older children help care for the younger ones. Even as Flovia arrived to the home, she was received with so much love by her new family.
A few months ago, I shared in an update about a 17 year old girl named Emily Cheptum. She has insulin-dependent diabetes and has lost her vision; because of her illness and difficult home situation, Cheptum came to live with us in Kipkaren. Currently, her blood sugars are well controlled, and we are preparing to take her for eye surgery. Every evening, Cheptum walks to the children's home to sing and pray with the kids. She loves them and is being loved by them in return. One Sunday morning, several of our kids prayed for Cheptum in the service. They prayed with confidence and passion. As I listened to them, I was being taught a lesson about faith. As Heidi Bakker says, "little children aren't ruined by unbelief". It humbly amazes me the way the love and faith demonstrated by these kids ushers in the Kingdom.
Without a doubt, this is a journey of learning to love and be loved, and I am grateful for all who have chosen to be a part.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Hunger & Thirst
They shall neither hunger nor thirst anymore; the sun shall not strike them, nor any heat; for the Lamb who is in the midst of the throne will shepherd them and lead them to living fountains of waters. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Revelation 7:16-17
They shall neither hunger nor thirst anymore... As I read this promise in scripture, it makes me long for the day when it becomes reality. I was once told a story about a Kenyan man whose definition of Heaven was the place where hunger no longer existed. His lived experience, like too many living in this broken world, is of pain of hunger on a daily basis. Praying for daily bread is a literal prayer. I remember the day I was first confronted with this reality. I was sitting in the home of a single mother as she shared about her experience of waking up each morning unsure of how she would feed her children. Rather than complaining about her situation, she was describing the faithfulness of God and explaining the numerous ways He had provided for her and her children.
Over the past three months, Tumaini na Afya (Hope & Health) has engaged in a battle we did not set out to fight. What started as an isolated situation of two little ones failing to thrive has repeated itself multiple times. In a way that I have never seen before in Kipkaren, there are starving children. Compassion has compelled us to respond with action. We are investing nourishing food and lots of love into lethargic and wasted bodies. It is amazing how quickly these children come back to life. They regain their appetites and begin to play again.
I greatly value the mission of Empowering Lives that urges us to move beyond relief and handouts to develop long lasting empowerment within the communities that we serve. Experience has taught us that this takes place one life at a time and does not occur overnight. Our goal is to see lives transformed: physically, emotionally and spiritually. A wise Chinese proverb states, "Give a man a fish; you have fed him for today. Teach a man to fish; and you have fed him for a lifetime." I humbly add; in the meantime, it is necessary to share what you have. When Jesus was confronted with hungry people, he had compassion on them and told the disciples: "They don't need to go away. You give them something to eat." The resources they had were a mere five loaves of bread and two fish; but when surrendered to Jesus, it met the needs of a multitude (Matthew 14:15-21).
I wanted to update you on the three year old little girl, Flovia, I have been sharing about. Two weeks ago she moved from the clinic and has found a new home at our children's home. She is doing very well. I am grateful to all who have been praying on her behalf. There is a new little girl I am working with named Chiri. She is four years old and weighs only 17 pounds. She has, along with her little brother and sister, entered my heart. I am praying for life to be restored to this little one.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Where is God?
Where is God in a world so full of unspeakable pain? This question was posed on the back cover of a book I was reading as I waited for the funeral of a seven year old girl to begin. It was a question I was asking as I felt the loss of this beautiful little girl named Viola. In a two week period of time, she was the second child our community was gathering together to bury. In my spirit, I was wrestling with harsh realities and great sadness. Viola died from a preventable and treatable disease.
A few days ago, a 17 year old, single mother gave us her three month old baby. This precious little girl, weighing only seven pounds, was unable to defend herself. She was unable to speak for herself except for her brown eyes that pierced my heart. Her mother was overwhelmed with the burdens of life. She grew up in a home where her single mother sold herself to feed her children. The cycle is now being repeated. This baby, appropriately named Grace, was accepted at a children’s home about an hour away from Kipkaren. When we arrived at the children’s home, the director said, “Where is the unwanted child?” His wife, who was holding the baby, quickly replied by speaking these life-giving words to the baby: “You are wanted. Listen to me. I want you.” I cannot help but ache for this young mother who remains without hope. My heart also aches for her other daughter, Ivy, who at two years old is blind, deaf, mute, and lame. Where is God in a world so full of unspeakable pain?
My little Flovia, the severely malnourished three year old I have written about before, has been with us for the past two and a half months and is thriving. She has brought me more joy than I can describe. She has increased from 14 lbs. to 22 lbs. She has relearned to walk and loves to play with her little baby doll. She now has the energy to throw major temper-tantrums and is incredibly particular about everything. Honestly, she could not be more lovely. She is learning to speak in multiple languages and calls everyone who cares for her “Mama.” This is who we are to her. The odds are stacked against this orphaned, HIV+ child; and the question, once again, resurfaces: Where is God? The truth is, as in every situation above, He is right in the middle of the pain. Closer than I know, He is grieving with the mother who has lost her child. His loving kindness is pursuing this teenage mom that is broken-hearted and without hope. He is fighting and giving a voice to the abandoned baby and helpless orphans.
In my life, I am finding that the closer I get to God the closer I get to the suffering. Never has the contrast between joy and pain been as real to me as it is now. It seems it should be either one or the other. However, in this land joy and pain coexist. I walk and play with barefooted children each day. I listen to orphans sing, “The Lord is my portion in the land of the living. The Lord is good forevermore.” The sun rises and sets each day reminding me that the Lord is faithful. I do not always feel His presence, but I have learned to trust that there is a share of mercy that is enough for everything that will be encountered this day.
A few days ago, a 17 year old, single mother gave us her three month old baby. This precious little girl, weighing only seven pounds, was unable to defend herself. She was unable to speak for herself except for her brown eyes that pierced my heart. Her mother was overwhelmed with the burdens of life. She grew up in a home where her single mother sold herself to feed her children. The cycle is now being repeated. This baby, appropriately named Grace, was accepted at a children’s home about an hour away from Kipkaren. When we arrived at the children’s home, the director said, “Where is the unwanted child?” His wife, who was holding the baby, quickly replied by speaking these life-giving words to the baby: “You are wanted. Listen to me. I want you.” I cannot help but ache for this young mother who remains without hope. My heart also aches for her other daughter, Ivy, who at two years old is blind, deaf, mute, and lame. Where is God in a world so full of unspeakable pain?
My little Flovia, the severely malnourished three year old I have written about before, has been with us for the past two and a half months and is thriving. She has brought me more joy than I can describe. She has increased from 14 lbs. to 22 lbs. She has relearned to walk and loves to play with her little baby doll. She now has the energy to throw major temper-tantrums and is incredibly particular about everything. Honestly, she could not be more lovely. She is learning to speak in multiple languages and calls everyone who cares for her “Mama.” This is who we are to her. The odds are stacked against this orphaned, HIV+ child; and the question, once again, resurfaces: Where is God? The truth is, as in every situation above, He is right in the middle of the pain. Closer than I know, He is grieving with the mother who has lost her child. His loving kindness is pursuing this teenage mom that is broken-hearted and without hope. He is fighting and giving a voice to the abandoned baby and helpless orphans.
In my life, I am finding that the closer I get to God the closer I get to the suffering. Never has the contrast between joy and pain been as real to me as it is now. It seems it should be either one or the other. However, in this land joy and pain coexist. I walk and play with barefooted children each day. I listen to orphans sing, “The Lord is my portion in the land of the living. The Lord is good forevermore.” The sun rises and sets each day reminding me that the Lord is faithful. I do not always feel His presence, but I have learned to trust that there is a share of mercy that is enough for everything that will be encountered this day.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Felix
For us in Kipkaren, the last few days have been full of great sorrow and loss as our little Felix, one of the two malnourished children we have been caring for, passed away on Sunday morning. Felix was only 14 months old. He had finally increased in weight and had gained the strength to hold up his own head. About a week ago, I was blessed as I sat and played with Felix and heard the sound of his laughter. It was beautiful. He was beautiful with his big brown eyes that always seemed to be asking questions. When I held him, he would often touch my face with his tiny little hand. To say the least, he had captured my heart. On Wednesday, a pastor had come to pray for both Felix and Flovia. After praying, the pastor laid Felix down and said, "I'm looking at the image of God." For sure, it was true.
On Friday evening, Felix suddenly fell very ill with a high fever. He was struggling to breathe. We rushed him to a hospital about an hour away, and he remained there with his mother until he passed away. In his short life, Felix fought a very tough fight against HIV and tuberculosis. I think he just got tired and needed to rest. My heart aches as I longed to see him live. My heart aches for his 18 year old mother who has experienced so much loss. Her name is Emily, and I ask you to pray for her. Imagine, she is 18 and a widow. Her husband passed away in November from an AIDS related illness. It was at this time that Emily learned that, after only one year of marriage, she and her son were also infected with HIV. She was left alone to raise her son as well as the two orphans from her husband's first marriage. I met Emily a few days after the burial of her husband; and over these past months, she has become so dear to me. When I look at her, I see a girl with the heavy weight of the world crushing her and stealing all of her dreams. Oh, how I long to see what has been lost restored. Only God can do it. Jesus has entrusted us to be His hands and feet to Emily; and for the sake of love, we will do it with all of our hearts.
I am so grateful for the love of God. He gave me eyes to see beyond Felix's broken and wasted body. I was privileged to hold a child of the King whose worth was beyond measure.
On Friday evening, Felix suddenly fell very ill with a high fever. He was struggling to breathe. We rushed him to a hospital about an hour away, and he remained there with his mother until he passed away. In his short life, Felix fought a very tough fight against HIV and tuberculosis. I think he just got tired and needed to rest. My heart aches as I longed to see him live. My heart aches for his 18 year old mother who has experienced so much loss. Her name is Emily, and I ask you to pray for her. Imagine, she is 18 and a widow. Her husband passed away in November from an AIDS related illness. It was at this time that Emily learned that, after only one year of marriage, she and her son were also infected with HIV. She was left alone to raise her son as well as the two orphans from her husband's first marriage. I met Emily a few days after the burial of her husband; and over these past months, she has become so dear to me. When I look at her, I see a girl with the heavy weight of the world crushing her and stealing all of her dreams. Oh, how I long to see what has been lost restored. Only God can do it. Jesus has entrusted us to be His hands and feet to Emily; and for the sake of love, we will do it with all of our hearts.
I am so grateful for the love of God. He gave me eyes to see beyond Felix's broken and wasted body. I was privileged to hold a child of the King whose worth was beyond measure.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
The Kingdom.
There are moments when it is so clear- things aren’t as they were meant to be. I have had a few of those this week.
I was asked to visit the home of a 17 years old girl with uncontrolled Type 1 Diabetes. She had been seen in a nearby clinic, but the physician was concerned about her home situation and whether she was getting food and the insulin she needed. For the past year, Emily has been blind and completely dependent upon others for her care. Her grandmother was her primary caretaker as both of her parents are struggling with alcoholism, but she recently passed away. After a forty-five minute drive on our bumpy roads, our Tumaini na Afya team arrived to the home.
Immediately I began to hear crying, a cry of brokenness coming from the home. It was Emily. She was alone and was in great pain. She was broken-hearted. Although we had never met before, she began to share her burdens that she was hungry and felt helpless. She said, “if only I could see, I could go and look for food.” In my spirit I believe that God had us arrive at that very moment- allowing us to hear the cries of His child, the cries that He alone has heard and that have broken His heart.
Curious neighbors filled the home, and I saw a 20 year old girl who was mentally disabled crawling on the floor. She was child-like, unable to speak or control her body movements. But she was precious. Emily explained that this girl was her sister and that the little boy standing beside her, who was wearing only a ragged t-shirt, was her sister’s child. I felt my jaw drop as anger and disgust filled me. About this time, Emily’s mother came into the house. She looked tired, deeply burdened. She lifted the little boy and put him to his mother’s breast. She wasn’t able to hold the baby herself. When he was finished eating, someone else lifted him.
We began to pray. There was so much darkness. The family was entangled in poverty, disease, alcoholism, and hunger. Unsure of how to respond but convinced that we must intervene, we prayed and left. Deeply moved, the images I had just seen and the sound of Emily’s cries filled me.
After prayer and further consideration, we decided to bring Emily home. She needs to be fed, treated and loved. One goal is to get her stable enough to go for cataract surgery so that her sight can be restored. Although the situation feels beyond repair, I believe that God will break through this darkness. I desire to see the love of Christ transform this home.
All that is broken will one day be restored. I live in this hope and long for that day; but for now, there is a Kingdom with a King whose mission is to bind up broken hearts. And there is a broken heart named Emily. I ask for you to pray that we would have wisdom in this situation and that deep healing will come. Thank you.
I also wanted to update you that our two little malnourished babies, Flovia and Felix, are doing well.
I was asked to visit the home of a 17 years old girl with uncontrolled Type 1 Diabetes. She had been seen in a nearby clinic, but the physician was concerned about her home situation and whether she was getting food and the insulin she needed. For the past year, Emily has been blind and completely dependent upon others for her care. Her grandmother was her primary caretaker as both of her parents are struggling with alcoholism, but she recently passed away. After a forty-five minute drive on our bumpy roads, our Tumaini na Afya team arrived to the home.
Immediately I began to hear crying, a cry of brokenness coming from the home. It was Emily. She was alone and was in great pain. She was broken-hearted. Although we had never met before, she began to share her burdens that she was hungry and felt helpless. She said, “if only I could see, I could go and look for food.” In my spirit I believe that God had us arrive at that very moment- allowing us to hear the cries of His child, the cries that He alone has heard and that have broken His heart.
Curious neighbors filled the home, and I saw a 20 year old girl who was mentally disabled crawling on the floor. She was child-like, unable to speak or control her body movements. But she was precious. Emily explained that this girl was her sister and that the little boy standing beside her, who was wearing only a ragged t-shirt, was her sister’s child. I felt my jaw drop as anger and disgust filled me. About this time, Emily’s mother came into the house. She looked tired, deeply burdened. She lifted the little boy and put him to his mother’s breast. She wasn’t able to hold the baby herself. When he was finished eating, someone else lifted him.
We began to pray. There was so much darkness. The family was entangled in poverty, disease, alcoholism, and hunger. Unsure of how to respond but convinced that we must intervene, we prayed and left. Deeply moved, the images I had just seen and the sound of Emily’s cries filled me.
After prayer and further consideration, we decided to bring Emily home. She needs to be fed, treated and loved. One goal is to get her stable enough to go for cataract surgery so that her sight can be restored. Although the situation feels beyond repair, I believe that God will break through this darkness. I desire to see the love of Christ transform this home.
All that is broken will one day be restored. I live in this hope and long for that day; but for now, there is a Kingdom with a King whose mission is to bind up broken hearts. And there is a broken heart named Emily. I ask for you to pray that we would have wisdom in this situation and that deep healing will come. Thank you.
I also wanted to update you that our two little malnourished babies, Flovia and Felix, are doing well.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Love costs.
Love will cause you to be uncomfortable but is always worth what it costs. This truth has become a reoccurring theme throughout my life. This past week, I encountered the uncomfortable part again as I walked away from a couple of heartbreaking home-visits where I met with two of our HIV+ children who were deteriorating quickly from severe malnutrition. I knew something needed to be done, and love would require action. Attempts to provide food and support to the families had been implemented, but the children were failing to grow. Both children were in need of intensive care. As Mother Teresa said, “It is very important for us to realize that love, to be true, has to hurt. I must be willing to give whatever it takes not to harm other people and, in fact, to do good to them. This requires that I be willing to give until it hurts. Otherwise there is no true love in me and I bring injustice, not peace, to those around me”.
The first little boy is named Felix; and although he is one year old, he is the size of a newborn. He weighs a mere 10 lbs. and is unable to lift up his head or sit up. He has big brown eyes that are constantly looking around the room. In November, Felix’s father passed away from complications related to HIV/AIDS leaving his mother as a widow at the age of 18. She is also living with HIV and trying to raise Felix and two orphans from her husband’s first marriage. Needless to say, the situation is full of challenges and Felix is failing to thrive.
The second visit was to that of a little 2 ½ years old girl named Flovia. In December of 2006, Flovia’s single mother died leaving her to be raised by her grandmother. She barely weighs 13 lbs. and is no longer strong enough to walk. She, like Felix, is very developmentally delayed and regressing as time continues. Weak and frustrated, she is irritable much of the time. As I sat outside her mud hut, I saw classic signs indicative of severe malnutrition. I knew that, without immediate action, this child would not survive.
In response to the needs before us, our Tumaini na Afya team, in collaboration with the children’s families, chose to create a temporary shelter for these little ones to get the attention they are desperately needing. We are feeding them every two hours with a special formula.
developed by the World Health Organization and loving them as they so deserve to be loved.
I have just come from playing with Flovia. In the past two years of visiting her home, I have never seen her smile; but tonight, she laughed. I cannot tell you the way it touched my heart. She played peek-a-boo and was blowing kisses. She is feeding well and the swelling in her legs has decreased. She has begun to wave her little hand and say “bye”. Although my mom always used to tell me that I should say “see you later” rather than “good-bye”; for the moment, “bye” has become my favorite word.
The journey ahead for both Felix and Flovia will be long and will call for hard work and love. It costs sleep. It needs patience and commitment. It involves getting dirty. It will undoubtedly require us, at times, to be uncomfortable. But the love, which we have in Christ, will bear all things, hope all things, believe all things, and endure all things. And no matter what may come, it will never fail.
Your prayers for Felix and Flovia, as well as our entire Tumaini na Afya team, are requested and greatly appreciated.
House-to-house HIV testing.
I also wanted to share with you about an exciting and challenging HIV awareness initiative that we are preparing to launch in June. We are partnering with AMPATH, the local HIV treatment center, to do house-to-house HIV testing within our division. Tumaini na Afya will be mobilizing people within villages to receive HIV testing within their homes. The population we are trying to reach nears 120,000. If this project succeeds, AMPATH’s goal is to test 2 million people living in Western Kenya in the next two years. Again, I request your prayers. There are many battles to be fought and won.
The first little boy is named Felix; and although he is one year old, he is the size of a newborn. He weighs a mere 10 lbs. and is unable to lift up his head or sit up. He has big brown eyes that are constantly looking around the room. In November, Felix’s father passed away from complications related to HIV/AIDS leaving his mother as a widow at the age of 18. She is also living with HIV and trying to raise Felix and two orphans from her husband’s first marriage. Needless to say, the situation is full of challenges and Felix is failing to thrive.
The second visit was to that of a little 2 ½ years old girl named Flovia. In December of 2006, Flovia’s single mother died leaving her to be raised by her grandmother. She barely weighs 13 lbs. and is no longer strong enough to walk. She, like Felix, is very developmentally delayed and regressing as time continues. Weak and frustrated, she is irritable much of the time. As I sat outside her mud hut, I saw classic signs indicative of severe malnutrition. I knew that, without immediate action, this child would not survive.
In response to the needs before us, our Tumaini na Afya team, in collaboration with the children’s families, chose to create a temporary shelter for these little ones to get the attention they are desperately needing. We are feeding them every two hours with a special formula.
developed by the World Health Organization and loving them as they so deserve to be loved.
I have just come from playing with Flovia. In the past two years of visiting her home, I have never seen her smile; but tonight, she laughed. I cannot tell you the way it touched my heart. She played peek-a-boo and was blowing kisses. She is feeding well and the swelling in her legs has decreased. She has begun to wave her little hand and say “bye”. Although my mom always used to tell me that I should say “see you later” rather than “good-bye”; for the moment, “bye” has become my favorite word.
The journey ahead for both Felix and Flovia will be long and will call for hard work and love. It costs sleep. It needs patience and commitment. It involves getting dirty. It will undoubtedly require us, at times, to be uncomfortable. But the love, which we have in Christ, will bear all things, hope all things, believe all things, and endure all things. And no matter what may come, it will never fail.
Your prayers for Felix and Flovia, as well as our entire Tumaini na Afya team, are requested and greatly appreciated.
House-to-house HIV testing.
I also wanted to share with you about an exciting and challenging HIV awareness initiative that we are preparing to launch in June. We are partnering with AMPATH, the local HIV treatment center, to do house-to-house HIV testing within our division. Tumaini na Afya will be mobilizing people within villages to receive HIV testing within their homes. The population we are trying to reach nears 120,000. If this project succeeds, AMPATH’s goal is to test 2 million people living in Western Kenya in the next two years. Again, I request your prayers. There are many battles to be fought and won.
Friday, April 04, 2008
The divide.
This morning I walked the simple paths of this village. I visited the homes of two single mothers – one, I had never met before while the other is a dear friend of mine. These women’s life experiences are not so different from one another, but I was struck by the huge divide in which they live. Their houses are both comprised of the same mud and sticks. Each would, by anyone’s standards, be considered financially poor. They both have their own story of disappointment and rejection by their families. With all of these similarities, the difference between them is like night and day. You see, one has hope.
To reach the first home, I walked through corn fields and crossed the river by balancing across a log bridge. I met a young 27 year old mother of five daughters who, simply put, is struggling to survive. ELI was introduced to this mama when she brought her four year old daughter to our clinic. The child was on the verge of starvation. Even several weeks after intense treatment, her protruding abdomen and stick thin extremities tell of her malnourishment. Even more than her physical condition, I was broken by her blank stare. God only knows all that this little one has faced, but she has completely withdrawn. Two of the other little girls, under the age of five, also had evidence of severe malnutrition. As I sat in this little mud hut, I looked at the sparse grass on the roof and wondered how this mama and her little ones stay dry when it rains and how they sleep with mosquitoes buzzing by their heads. I wondered what this mama’s motivation is to wake up each morning. The truth is, she explained, that when she brought her dying child to the clinic she had lost all hope. In this incredibly difficult situation, I am thankful to be a part of this ELI ministry team that seeks to put compassion into action and that does not sit back when confronted with the suffering of God’s children.
The second home, in contrast, was like a breath of fresh air. A lady, who once was a prostitute and is currently living with HIV/AIDS, glowed as she welcomed me to her home. Her physical struggles are present, but she has a friendship with God that is extravagant. She shared about the ways God is teaching her that He is great. She repeated it over and again: Our God is great. As I listened, it was not like she was trying to convince herself or impress me. She said she had been reading stories in the Bible about God showing up to fight for His people. She explained that countless times He has been her help. As she spoke, I was reminded of the scandalous story in the Bible when the prostitute came to Jesus. She was broken and weeping, but she came and worshipped at the feet of Jesus with her tears and a costly bottle of fragrant oil. After much criticism, Jesus replied to the accusers: “You gave me no kiss, but this woman has not ceased to kiss my feet since the time I came in . . . Therefore, I say to you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much. But to whom little is forgiven, the same loves little. Then he said to her, ‘Your sins are forgiven.’” (Luke 7:45-48). My friend, who walks in the freedom of forgiveness, has learned to love much.
To reach the first home, I walked through corn fields and crossed the river by balancing across a log bridge. I met a young 27 year old mother of five daughters who, simply put, is struggling to survive. ELI was introduced to this mama when she brought her four year old daughter to our clinic. The child was on the verge of starvation. Even several weeks after intense treatment, her protruding abdomen and stick thin extremities tell of her malnourishment. Even more than her physical condition, I was broken by her blank stare. God only knows all that this little one has faced, but she has completely withdrawn. Two of the other little girls, under the age of five, also had evidence of severe malnutrition. As I sat in this little mud hut, I looked at the sparse grass on the roof and wondered how this mama and her little ones stay dry when it rains and how they sleep with mosquitoes buzzing by their heads. I wondered what this mama’s motivation is to wake up each morning. The truth is, she explained, that when she brought her dying child to the clinic she had lost all hope. In this incredibly difficult situation, I am thankful to be a part of this ELI ministry team that seeks to put compassion into action and that does not sit back when confronted with the suffering of God’s children.
The second home, in contrast, was like a breath of fresh air. A lady, who once was a prostitute and is currently living with HIV/AIDS, glowed as she welcomed me to her home. Her physical struggles are present, but she has a friendship with God that is extravagant. She shared about the ways God is teaching her that He is great. She repeated it over and again: Our God is great. As I listened, it was not like she was trying to convince herself or impress me. She said she had been reading stories in the Bible about God showing up to fight for His people. She explained that countless times He has been her help. As she spoke, I was reminded of the scandalous story in the Bible when the prostitute came to Jesus. She was broken and weeping, but she came and worshipped at the feet of Jesus with her tears and a costly bottle of fragrant oil. After much criticism, Jesus replied to the accusers: “You gave me no kiss, but this woman has not ceased to kiss my feet since the time I came in . . . Therefore, I say to you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much. But to whom little is forgiven, the same loves little. Then he said to her, ‘Your sins are forgiven.’” (Luke 7:45-48). My friend, who walks in the freedom of forgiveness, has learned to love much.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Easter
“Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” These are the
words Jesus spoke to his friends as he prepared to go to the cross. The
most grueling and terrifying death imaginable awaited him, but he
sought to comfort his followers. He wanted to reassure them that he
was not leaving them as orphans. Although they did not understand, he
spoke of a Comforter who would be sent and of a peace, unlike the
world gives, that would be available to them. Oh, how he loved them.
This week, as we remember the sacrifice Jesus made for each of us, I
had the opportunity to break away from normal life in the village to rest
in the Kakamega rainforest. I took time to reflect upon these past few
months of life and to debrief and relax with dear friends. There has
been great loss and disappointment. But there has also been evidence
of God’s faithfulness. Calm has returned, and we continue to pray for
deep peace.
On Wednesday morning, I sat in the middle of the forest and watched
the monkeys play and listened to the birds sing. Thoughts raced
through my head, and my heart felt troubled. Surrounded by the giant
trees, I felt small. I needed to hear these gentle words: “Let not your
heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” As I did, I felt release. I was
quieted. I chose to let go of the many things I cannot control and to
trust the loving‐kindness of Jesus.
May the words of Jesus confront and quiet you with his love.
words Jesus spoke to his friends as he prepared to go to the cross. The
most grueling and terrifying death imaginable awaited him, but he
sought to comfort his followers. He wanted to reassure them that he
was not leaving them as orphans. Although they did not understand, he
spoke of a Comforter who would be sent and of a peace, unlike the
world gives, that would be available to them. Oh, how he loved them.
This week, as we remember the sacrifice Jesus made for each of us, I
had the opportunity to break away from normal life in the village to rest
in the Kakamega rainforest. I took time to reflect upon these past few
months of life and to debrief and relax with dear friends. There has
been great loss and disappointment. But there has also been evidence
of God’s faithfulness. Calm has returned, and we continue to pray for
deep peace.
On Wednesday morning, I sat in the middle of the forest and watched
the monkeys play and listened to the birds sing. Thoughts raced
through my head, and my heart felt troubled. Surrounded by the giant
trees, I felt small. I needed to hear these gentle words: “Let not your
heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” As I did, I felt release. I was
quieted. I chose to let go of the many things I cannot control and to
trust the loving‐kindness of Jesus.
May the words of Jesus confront and quiet you with his love.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Congo Update
Congo Update.
I returned to Kipkaren on Saturday from my journey to Bukavu, Congo DRC with my heart both broken and encouraged by the paths walked, the faces encountered, and the stories shared. Mudekereza, ELI Congo’s Director, met me at the airport in Kigali, Rwanda to accompany me on a six hour bus ride through winding roads. As we traveled, he shared about his life and family, the wars that have plagued his country for the past decade, and of the dream he has to see the people of his homeland live empowered lives. He apologized for his English (although it was excellent) explaining it was his fifth of five languages spoken. Never the less, from the time we met, it was evident that this man who barely stands five feet in height is a giant in faith, vision, and leadership.
Over the next week, he led me through the slums he calls home. I walked down steep paths to find ELI’s school. It truly was like a bright light in the midst of darkness as 545 children have received the opportunity to go to school to be fed
physically and spiritually. As I arrived at the school, I was welcomed with singing and dancing children. Flower petals of brilliant colors were thrown at my feet as a beautiful expression of their hospitality.
Immediately I was taken to the kitchen where a group of women were preparing porridge for the children. For most, this cup of porridge is their only source of food for the day. It was incredibly humbling to watch hungry kids wait in line
for food, but it was also an honor to be able to serve them. When the little girl, with big brown eyes, said “merci” (thank you) with a sincerity that is impossible to explain, it became a holy moment.
Sunday morning, I piled into a vehicle with seven of Mudekereza’s eight children and drove down the road which has so many pot holes that it basically is ONE LARGE pot hole. We arrived at the church, again at the top of a steep hillside and
trudged down muddy slopes to enter a small brick building sheltered with iron sheets. A humble room was filled with about forty people; and for the next three hours, God’s sweet presence ministered to my tired, broken spirit. Rhythmic
songs with beautiful melodies resonated as they were presented as offerings of praise. Without comprehension, tears filled my eyes. I sat still and was blessed by this group of worshippers. With nothing else to give, they offered their
lives. Again, it was a holy moment.
Over the next few days, I attended meetings, visited HIV clinics and discussed the possibilities of implementing HIV testing and general treatment for the children at ELI’s school as well as the surrounding community.
After waking up twice to strong earthquakes one night, I read the words of
Psalm 46. These words spoke to me, reminding me of God’s power and
compassion all at once. With all the political unrest in Kenya, the past couple
of months have felt like a series of disappointments, scary unknowns, and
constant danger. As the earth moved underneath me, I needed God to remind
me that He is my refuge, that He is present in the midst of all these troubles. I
needed to know that God was in my midst and that he would help me. I
needed to be still and know that He is God. So, I am grateful for His words that
gave me courage to trust Him once more.
I thank God for the opportunity to see the ministry that is taking place in
Bukavu and look forward to returning as God leads.
Loss.
In my last update, I shared about a six year old boy named Elvis who was
suffering from a brain tumor. On Wednesday night, while staying in Nairobi, I
received a call around 10:30 p.m. from Mama Elvis. She had traveled the eight
hour drive to Nairobi with Elvis the previous week for him to receive radiation
therapy at the national hospital in Kenya. She called because Elvis had just
passed away.
Separated from her family, she had no money to pay the hospital bill and no
idea of how to get her son's little body home. It was impossible for her to
grieve as she had to simply survive. When she called me, in a very small way, I
felt the hopelessness of this mother. I asked God to make a way for her.
Thursday morning I met Mama Elvis at the hospital and began the long,
arduous process of getting the hospital bill paid, buying a coffin, hiring a car to
drive them to Eldoret, waiting in five separate lines at the mortuary, and
finally picking this precious little one's body to send him home to be buried. I
do not understand these situations, but I do thank God for His provision and
favor in this difficult situation. I thank God for the privilege to grieve with this
mother (not because I particularly enjoy grieving), but God’s compassion and
mercy filled me when it was needed. Mama Elvis traveled safely to her home
and was able to bury her child properly, with her family beside her to support
her.
Thank you for praying for this mother and family as they mourn their loss. I
am grateful for God’s promise that He will comfort those who mourn.
Kenya Update.
I received the SWEET news on Thursday that an agreement was signed
between President Kibaki and Raila. Rather than having mass action and more
destruction, which had been called for, Kenya received breakthrough. It was
the first step in the right direction; and for it, I am so grateful. When only a
miracle would do, God gave us one. People, all over the country, are now
wishing each other a “Happy New Year.” I pray that God’s peace will fill this
land. Thank you for your continued prayers.
I returned to Kipkaren on Saturday from my journey to Bukavu, Congo DRC with my heart both broken and encouraged by the paths walked, the faces encountered, and the stories shared. Mudekereza, ELI Congo’s Director, met me at the airport in Kigali, Rwanda to accompany me on a six hour bus ride through winding roads. As we traveled, he shared about his life and family, the wars that have plagued his country for the past decade, and of the dream he has to see the people of his homeland live empowered lives. He apologized for his English (although it was excellent) explaining it was his fifth of five languages spoken. Never the less, from the time we met, it was evident that this man who barely stands five feet in height is a giant in faith, vision, and leadership.
Over the next week, he led me through the slums he calls home. I walked down steep paths to find ELI’s school. It truly was like a bright light in the midst of darkness as 545 children have received the opportunity to go to school to be fed
physically and spiritually. As I arrived at the school, I was welcomed with singing and dancing children. Flower petals of brilliant colors were thrown at my feet as a beautiful expression of their hospitality.
Immediately I was taken to the kitchen where a group of women were preparing porridge for the children. For most, this cup of porridge is their only source of food for the day. It was incredibly humbling to watch hungry kids wait in line
for food, but it was also an honor to be able to serve them. When the little girl, with big brown eyes, said “merci” (thank you) with a sincerity that is impossible to explain, it became a holy moment.
Sunday morning, I piled into a vehicle with seven of Mudekereza’s eight children and drove down the road which has so many pot holes that it basically is ONE LARGE pot hole. We arrived at the church, again at the top of a steep hillside and
trudged down muddy slopes to enter a small brick building sheltered with iron sheets. A humble room was filled with about forty people; and for the next three hours, God’s sweet presence ministered to my tired, broken spirit. Rhythmic
songs with beautiful melodies resonated as they were presented as offerings of praise. Without comprehension, tears filled my eyes. I sat still and was blessed by this group of worshippers. With nothing else to give, they offered their
lives. Again, it was a holy moment.
Over the next few days, I attended meetings, visited HIV clinics and discussed the possibilities of implementing HIV testing and general treatment for the children at ELI’s school as well as the surrounding community.
After waking up twice to strong earthquakes one night, I read the words of
Psalm 46. These words spoke to me, reminding me of God’s power and
compassion all at once. With all the political unrest in Kenya, the past couple
of months have felt like a series of disappointments, scary unknowns, and
constant danger. As the earth moved underneath me, I needed God to remind
me that He is my refuge, that He is present in the midst of all these troubles. I
needed to know that God was in my midst and that he would help me. I
needed to be still and know that He is God. So, I am grateful for His words that
gave me courage to trust Him once more.
I thank God for the opportunity to see the ministry that is taking place in
Bukavu and look forward to returning as God leads.
Loss.
In my last update, I shared about a six year old boy named Elvis who was
suffering from a brain tumor. On Wednesday night, while staying in Nairobi, I
received a call around 10:30 p.m. from Mama Elvis. She had traveled the eight
hour drive to Nairobi with Elvis the previous week for him to receive radiation
therapy at the national hospital in Kenya. She called because Elvis had just
passed away.
Separated from her family, she had no money to pay the hospital bill and no
idea of how to get her son's little body home. It was impossible for her to
grieve as she had to simply survive. When she called me, in a very small way, I
felt the hopelessness of this mother. I asked God to make a way for her.
Thursday morning I met Mama Elvis at the hospital and began the long,
arduous process of getting the hospital bill paid, buying a coffin, hiring a car to
drive them to Eldoret, waiting in five separate lines at the mortuary, and
finally picking this precious little one's body to send him home to be buried. I
do not understand these situations, but I do thank God for His provision and
favor in this difficult situation. I thank God for the privilege to grieve with this
mother (not because I particularly enjoy grieving), but God’s compassion and
mercy filled me when it was needed. Mama Elvis traveled safely to her home
and was able to bury her child properly, with her family beside her to support
her.
Thank you for praying for this mother and family as they mourn their loss. I
am grateful for God’s promise that He will comfort those who mourn.
Kenya Update.
I received the SWEET news on Thursday that an agreement was signed
between President Kibaki and Raila. Rather than having mass action and more
destruction, which had been called for, Kenya received breakthrough. It was
the first step in the right direction; and for it, I am so grateful. When only a
miracle would do, God gave us one. People, all over the country, are now
wishing each other a “Happy New Year.” I pray that God’s peace will fill this
land. Thank you for your continued prayers.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Beauty for Ashes
The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,
because the LORD has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor.
Isaiah 61:1-3
Over the past month, the words beauty instead of ashes, have resonated within my head. Ashes are currently all that can be seen throughout the land of Kenya. The controversial presidential election sparked violent reactions leaving over 1000 people dead and nearly 300,000 internally displaced. There are many contributing factors, but the outcome is ashes. Lives destroyed. Homes burned. Communities destroyed. Neighbors divided. So much has been lost. All who love this land feel this loss deeply. Currently, mediation talks are taking place between President Kibaki and the Opposition leader, Raila. We, in Kipkaren, are praying for a resolution for the political crisis. We are praying for good to over come evil. In hope, we are awaiting the beauty that will be as peace and justice are restored to this land. We believe that, as God’s children, we have a necessary role to play in this Kingdom which shares good news to the poor, binds up broken hearts, proclaims freedom to those who have been in prisons of all kinds, provides for those who grieve… The ashes will be replaced. Please continue to pray for Kenya.
I went to visit my dear friend Betty today. I have been visiting her daily as she undergoes an intensive therapy for the treatment of recurrent TB. Today, I gave her the 36th of 60 shots she is to receive. The process she is undergoing takes perseverance; and yet, in spite of her physical sufferings, her faith continues to be a source of encouragement to me. When I reached her home, I felt overwhelmed by the needs that surround. This past weekend, our team buried one of our clients, and we have felt his loss. A young orphan girl, whose mother had been one of my patients, came this morning requesting fees so that she will be able to attend school. Then I received a phone call that another one of my patients had grown very sick and needed to be taken to the hospital. He is in the painful process of dying of AIDS. Then, I received another call explaining that the CT scan of a little boy named Elvis revealed his brain tumor is back. He is only five years old. His mother does not know how she will afford to go to the specialist in Nairobi. So, by the time I reached Betty’s home, I needed to hear her words: “Mungu anaweza” God is able. I needed to hear her sing, in Swahili, the old hymn that says “The great Physician now is near, the sympathizing Jesus.” She said, “Juli, Jesus is always near.” Her words were refreshing to my heart. I ask for your prayers for our health ministry as we, one life at a time, seek to love with the love of Jesus. May we never grow tired in doing good.
On Friday, I will be traveling to the Congo for one week to attend some meetings pertaining to ELI’s HIV program in the city of Bukavu. I am looking forward to meeting our national team in Congo and visiting ELI’s school in the slum that provides education and food for 600 children. Please pray for God’s peace and protection to cover me as I travel
because the LORD has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor.
Isaiah 61:1-3
Over the past month, the words beauty instead of ashes, have resonated within my head. Ashes are currently all that can be seen throughout the land of Kenya. The controversial presidential election sparked violent reactions leaving over 1000 people dead and nearly 300,000 internally displaced. There are many contributing factors, but the outcome is ashes. Lives destroyed. Homes burned. Communities destroyed. Neighbors divided. So much has been lost. All who love this land feel this loss deeply. Currently, mediation talks are taking place between President Kibaki and the Opposition leader, Raila. We, in Kipkaren, are praying for a resolution for the political crisis. We are praying for good to over come evil. In hope, we are awaiting the beauty that will be as peace and justice are restored to this land. We believe that, as God’s children, we have a necessary role to play in this Kingdom which shares good news to the poor, binds up broken hearts, proclaims freedom to those who have been in prisons of all kinds, provides for those who grieve… The ashes will be replaced. Please continue to pray for Kenya.
I went to visit my dear friend Betty today. I have been visiting her daily as she undergoes an intensive therapy for the treatment of recurrent TB. Today, I gave her the 36th of 60 shots she is to receive. The process she is undergoing takes perseverance; and yet, in spite of her physical sufferings, her faith continues to be a source of encouragement to me. When I reached her home, I felt overwhelmed by the needs that surround. This past weekend, our team buried one of our clients, and we have felt his loss. A young orphan girl, whose mother had been one of my patients, came this morning requesting fees so that she will be able to attend school. Then I received a phone call that another one of my patients had grown very sick and needed to be taken to the hospital. He is in the painful process of dying of AIDS. Then, I received another call explaining that the CT scan of a little boy named Elvis revealed his brain tumor is back. He is only five years old. His mother does not know how she will afford to go to the specialist in Nairobi. So, by the time I reached Betty’s home, I needed to hear her words: “Mungu anaweza” God is able. I needed to hear her sing, in Swahili, the old hymn that says “The great Physician now is near, the sympathizing Jesus.” She said, “Juli, Jesus is always near.” Her words were refreshing to my heart. I ask for your prayers for our health ministry as we, one life at a time, seek to love with the love of Jesus. May we never grow tired in doing good.
On Friday, I will be traveling to the Congo for one week to attend some meetings pertaining to ELI’s HIV program in the city of Bukavu. I am looking forward to meeting our national team in Congo and visiting ELI’s school in the slum that provides education and food for 600 children. Please pray for God’s peace and protection to cover me as I travel
Friday, January 25, 2008
Blessings
I cannot express what it means to know that people are standing with me in prayer as Kenya continues to walk this difficult journey of political unrest. For me, the issue I am really praying about is the idea of calm vs. peace. Like so much of the world, Kenya is used to living in calm but not peace. I do not want to simply return to the "calm" where we put up with one another (although it feels much nicer). There are deep issues of hatred between tribes that unless/until they are addressed will continue to resurface. In the midst of this evil, I believe that God is trying to reveal His heart for this place, for His people. There is a deep cleansing that needs to occur. So, we continue to pray. I wanted to share these reflections from an experience I had this past week...
Like so many other Friday’s, I went to the HIV/AIDS clinic this morning to treat patients. Like any other day, people walked to the clinic or were carried on the back of bicycles. They waited in the open air corridors of the clinic to be treated. One man arrived critically ill and desperately needed to be referred to a larger hospital just one hour away; but unlike other days, there was no vehicle to take him. The road towards town contains blockades as the post-election violence continues. So, the possibility of extending treatment or even relief to this dying man seemed impossible. Rachel, the Health Practitioner I was working with, unwilling to give up asked if I would go on a walk with her. I agreed, and we walked a few hundred meters up a large hill to the police station to request them to escort this man to the hospital. As we were walking, a group of women, displaced from their homes, greeted us. They explained that it had really been raining upon them over the past few days, and they asked her for her white lab coat. She responded that she still needed it for work.
I was not prepared for the sights I was about to see. A mere ten miles from my village I entered a refugee camp. As I reached the top of the hill, I was greeted by a lady who I used to eat in her little restaurant. With tears in her eyes, she said: “welcome to our refugee camp.” I looked into the faces of hungry and dirty children. They were playing in the middle of their refuge amongst 20,000 others who had been chased as their homes were burned to the ground. I recognized others I have treated as patients at the HIV clinic. A deep sadness entered my heart. Tears filled my eyes, and I feared if I allowed them to flow they might not ever stop. I talked with a little girl, and she asked me where I was from. I told her that I lived in Kipkaren; and she simply replied, “me too”. The only difference is that her home is no longer. She is struggling, along with 300,000 others who have been displaced within their own homeland, to survive. It is hard to imagine the kind of politics, the tribal hatred that could lead to this injustice.
After arrangements had been made with the police for transporting our patient, we started back down the hill. A little girl, maybe six years old, was carrying water on her head as she climbed the hill. Her name, Upendo (which means love in Kiswahili), struck me. She represents all that we have been called to do as followers of Christ. Overwhelmed by the devastation of this land, I remembered these instructions that say: “Open your mouth for the speechless, in the cause of all who are appointed to die. Open your mouth, judge righteously, and plead the cause of the poor and the needy” (Proverbs 31:8-9).
And then it began to rain. It was not a light, gentle drizzle but a big rain. For a moment, in a small way, I felt their struggles. This may seem obvious; but without a shelter to enter, it is cold and wet when it rains. Without food to eat, hunger is felt. Without peace, there is no rest. As we walked through the rain, Rachel said: “now I know why they needed my coat.” I am convinced, although uncomfortable, there are times we need to know. I recently came across this prayer that has challenged, once again, my view of what it means to be blessed.
May God bless you with discomfort
At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships
So that you may live deep within your heart.
May God bless you with tears
To shed for those who suffer pain, rejections, hunger and war,
So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them
And to turn their pain into joy.
And may God bless you with enough foolishness
To believe that you can make a difference in the world
So that you can do what others claim cannot be done.
To bring justice and kindness to all.
So, I am opening my mouth on behalf of those without a voice. God has shown us what is good and what is required. We are to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with Him. May God lead our hearts to love more fully and to follow Him wherever He leads.
Like so many other Friday’s, I went to the HIV/AIDS clinic this morning to treat patients. Like any other day, people walked to the clinic or were carried on the back of bicycles. They waited in the open air corridors of the clinic to be treated. One man arrived critically ill and desperately needed to be referred to a larger hospital just one hour away; but unlike other days, there was no vehicle to take him. The road towards town contains blockades as the post-election violence continues. So, the possibility of extending treatment or even relief to this dying man seemed impossible. Rachel, the Health Practitioner I was working with, unwilling to give up asked if I would go on a walk with her. I agreed, and we walked a few hundred meters up a large hill to the police station to request them to escort this man to the hospital. As we were walking, a group of women, displaced from their homes, greeted us. They explained that it had really been raining upon them over the past few days, and they asked her for her white lab coat. She responded that she still needed it for work.
I was not prepared for the sights I was about to see. A mere ten miles from my village I entered a refugee camp. As I reached the top of the hill, I was greeted by a lady who I used to eat in her little restaurant. With tears in her eyes, she said: “welcome to our refugee camp.” I looked into the faces of hungry and dirty children. They were playing in the middle of their refuge amongst 20,000 others who had been chased as their homes were burned to the ground. I recognized others I have treated as patients at the HIV clinic. A deep sadness entered my heart. Tears filled my eyes, and I feared if I allowed them to flow they might not ever stop. I talked with a little girl, and she asked me where I was from. I told her that I lived in Kipkaren; and she simply replied, “me too”. The only difference is that her home is no longer. She is struggling, along with 300,000 others who have been displaced within their own homeland, to survive. It is hard to imagine the kind of politics, the tribal hatred that could lead to this injustice.
After arrangements had been made with the police for transporting our patient, we started back down the hill. A little girl, maybe six years old, was carrying water on her head as she climbed the hill. Her name, Upendo (which means love in Kiswahili), struck me. She represents all that we have been called to do as followers of Christ. Overwhelmed by the devastation of this land, I remembered these instructions that say: “Open your mouth for the speechless, in the cause of all who are appointed to die. Open your mouth, judge righteously, and plead the cause of the poor and the needy” (Proverbs 31:8-9).
And then it began to rain. It was not a light, gentle drizzle but a big rain. For a moment, in a small way, I felt their struggles. This may seem obvious; but without a shelter to enter, it is cold and wet when it rains. Without food to eat, hunger is felt. Without peace, there is no rest. As we walked through the rain, Rachel said: “now I know why they needed my coat.” I am convinced, although uncomfortable, there are times we need to know. I recently came across this prayer that has challenged, once again, my view of what it means to be blessed.
May God bless you with discomfort
At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships
So that you may live deep within your heart.
May God bless you with tears
To shed for those who suffer pain, rejections, hunger and war,
So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them
And to turn their pain into joy.
And may God bless you with enough foolishness
To believe that you can make a difference in the world
So that you can do what others claim cannot be done.
To bring justice and kindness to all.
So, I am opening my mouth on behalf of those without a voice. God has shown us what is good and what is required. We are to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with Him. May God lead our hearts to love more fully and to follow Him wherever He leads.
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