today

Today was something else. A test. A victory. A million emotions wrapped up into one.

At 9am I met up with Elina, Pastor Brian, and the 2 sellers of the facility that will become the Chikondi Community Center. Upon coming back to Zambia, I made it my top priority to make sure this happens quickly (relatively) and completely so that things can move on and progress. I'm ready to open those doors.

Little did I know, today would show me more about myself and Zambia than I anticipated. Especially when I only ate that little granola bar for breakfast expecting to have a long lunch break and make it to the bank before training started at 14hrs. (Spoiler alert: neither lunch nor the bank happened)

After meeting up with the other 4, we stepped into a building just a few "blocks" down from Elina's house in Ng'ombe, the local council run by the Zambian government, known for its corruption. What a way to start the day. The process of stamping one paper required a million copies, which had to be done further in the compound in the marketplace across from the tomato stands. Just a copy machine in a concrete room, and they charge something like 10 cents a copy. Not too shabby. Anywho, one and a half hours later, we left the building to make our payment. Rather than pay at the local council and risk it never getting downtown, we chose to go downtown ourselves to hand the payment directly to the one who writes the receipts. Forgive the details, or lack thereof, but this process would take 25 pages just to describe it in detail. The basic point of today: we needed to secure Change of Ownership documents to turn the facility over to the local branch of Clothed in Hope.

So downtown. Two minibuses away from Ng'ombe so we hop on. I sit in the back row, a 4' seat with 4 people squished back there. Though I'm sure the space we each naturally take up is a liiitle bigger than a ruler. The rains came this morning so it cleared off for a beautiful minibus ride through the bulk of Lusaka. I enjoyed looking out the window, cool breeze flowing through the bus, Nyanja spoken by everyone but me, and just enter my little world of observations for a hot second. Lusaka is much more than slum compounds, dirt roads and weird copy shops. There is so, so much more. Cruising by, bumping along pot holes and swerving around bikers, the bus took me on a nice tour. There were the cages of chickens on the side of the road, kinda like a twisted drive through. Like lobster in tank at seafood restaurants meets McDonalds. Yea that weird. Especially when the chickens are merchandised next to security bars for windows. Quite the scene. Entering downtown we swerved around the crazy roundabouts and there were so many men selling Zambia merchandise for the huge game tonight. The men walk from car to car blowing horns and shoving Zambia scarves in the line of sight. One merchant was taking a break, drinking from the water hose that was watering the government-funed garden in the roundabout. Some details just stop me in my tracks. Like that one. Imply what you want, but for me it seemed a little messed up. Just like the NGO vehicles that are some of the nicest on the road expensing out at around $50,000. I wasn't angry on my bus ride, just observant. Loving learning more about this country that I call home. Loving learning about the lifestyles of its people.

We arrive downtown. I'm not really invited to say anything all day by the officials. Pastor Brian speaks on my behalf, just as the man accompanying the seller of the house. Women don't have a say. It's just something to get used to. But I am so thankful for that man sent to CiH from Jesus, who advocates for the vulnerable and for Clothed in Hope.

The process, which was planned to take just minutes downtown, turned into a 6-hour ordeal. Y'all. SIX HOURS. Stamps here. Copies there. Offices there. All in one major office. It was insane. We got so close then the door slammed in our face and it was lunch break. An entire hour. So we waited. And I pondered. I was drained. Frustrated. Overwhelmed. Beyond confused with the whole process. I felt like I was just being dragged along this insane adventure. I was hungry. No lunch for us. Ants fell on my face. I got kicked out of my seat so a man could sweep the dirt from the porch. It was an afternoon I won't forget but don't necessarily want to. So yea. My patience wore thin. I wanted out but I wanted to finish.

So I prayed. Jesus, give me strength. I'm past exhausted. And He gave life. He lifted my chin and said just a bit further. In these times it's easy for me to see how much I'm inconvenienced. Someone else should be doing this work for me. But what?! Jesus loves me SO much. Why do I think love comes cheap? Why do I think love comes with shortcuts?! I'm pretty sure Jesus felt pain on that cross He hung from to save my life and the lives of all in this world. It's not a guilt trip, but a beautiful revelation. Jesus loves me THAT much. He loves these people who will get to see and know Him at the Chikondi Community Center THAT much.

There weren't doves flying around. Or lightbulbs going off. Just a sigh of relief that I'm not alone. That I don't have to give myself the strength I need. I can be completely limp and Jesus will sustain me. I can feel completely unloving and Jesus will graciously reveal His great love in my soul.

I realized that the saying "love until it hurts" might just be a little off. How about "love past the hurt." There are no limits to the love of Jesus. It doesn't come from us. It flows through us. Nothing extraordinary happened today. We just got a paper stamped after 7+ hours of an ordeal. But I got to chat with Pastor Brian as a real person, not just a helper for CiH. I got to sit and ponder the extravagant, painful, costly, challenging, heart-exploding, eye-opening, beautiful love of Jesus as guinea hens ran through the yard on the office grounds and Zambians flocked to the conference room nearby to have a lunch-break church.

Let's love past the hurt. Let's realize that love came and comes with sacrifice. God loves us THAT much that He gave His Son up for us. Let's see that Jesus is so much more than our agenda, our time constraints, our conceptions, and our expectations. I'm convinced of this: the more you risk for love, the more you find love. Because it never runs out.

rainy

Here I am, back in Zambia after 3 months of being in the States for a whirlwind of fundraising, holidays, and reconnecting with the incredible people in my life.

It's rainy season. Even as I'm typing, the rain splatters a soothing chime on the steel roof of my room. The rains come most every day, sometimes for multiple times a day accompanied by ferocious thunder and lightning, some days just for a few minutes. The sun heats things back up but just when all seems too hot, a cool breeze flows through town signaling that the rains are coming again.

It's an incredible season really. This country transforms. Lush greenery sprouts up in every place possible, from crawling up security walls to popping out of gutters. The roads clear of dust. Some flood and then it gets real interesting. The smell is different. Don't get me wrong, it still smells; it's just a different smell. Everyone becomes agriculturally focused and every region other than this busy downtown has all hands on deck in the fields farming and harvesting crops like maize, sweet potatoes and even mangoes thriving in this season. It's fascinating how one season can shift an entire culture and give a makeover to an entire country.

Walking into the Ng'ombe compound on Thursday to see the women for the first time since October, I realized that though much has changed with appearances, not too much has changed with the compound. Armed with all rain gear for the ever-present thread of a downpour, I took the first step off of the pavement and onto the previously-dusty, now-muddy road that leads down to Elina's house. It's still a crazy place. Minibus drivers holler as their squeaky wheels trek down the muddy and rocky "road." Children run around, some in school uniforms, some in tattered clothes without shoes, all looking for the next greatest game to play with some trash they found in the gutter or some animal they found roaming freely. Women and men business owners sit outside of their tin shacks, hoping to sell a few dollars in cell phone minutes or fresh tomatoes to afford some prepaid electricity that night. I hear the echoes of "mzungu" and "how are you" follow me down the road. I turn at the bar-turned-convenience-store knowing I'm almost there. Eyes down for safety but ears wide open, I soak in every detail of that place. Though it's crazy and impoverished and sometimes kinda scary, it's beautiful.

Just like the rain. Maybe some days I'll be set back with the inconvenience of too much mud, flooded roads, or always having to pack boots and a coat wherever I go, not to mention the excess of bugs making a home around my room. But I hope and pray that most days I'll be able to see the beauty that's here, that's the cool before the rains, that's the green of life and economic growth for this nation. That's the smiles and handshakes of children as I pass them on my walk to the training class. Or the exclamations and songs of thanksgiving every Friday as our women encourage each other and give praise for life.

It's easy for me to see the mud, to listen to the strange calls of men out of their minibuses, without giving acknowledgement of much more. But there is so much more. So much beauty in this life. It's just whether I open my eyes and my heart to see what Jesus has orchestrated in this. The beauty from ashes. The hope, the joy.

immeasurably

Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

Ephesians 3:20

[Immeasurably: without bounds; vast; limitless]

I’m heading back to Zambia in just 3 days and I honestly can’t believe my time at home has ended this quickly. It’s been a challenging season, filled with more work than rest, more anxiety than peace. Rather than just a catch-up time and holiday with great friends and family, I’ve had to juggle a transition phase for our organization in staffing and head up the fundraising of $20,000 for our Chikondi Community Center, plus everyday operation expenses. I don’t know exactly why this season has been particularly difficult. Perhaps it was full of difficult things, but most of all I think I have made it more difficult. Sounds crazy, right?

Doubt. Anxiety/Stress/Worry (whichever term you prefer). Busyness.

All of these things make God out to be less than He is.

He’s not just better. He is the best. He is the God of immeasurably more.

Though it’s been a difficult season, I’m thankful. I’m thankful because God has continually smashed my comforts and my control to show me that He is immeasurably more, He gives immeasurably more, and He wants immeasurably more for my life than I can even dream of.

Perhaps this is in the practical, the $20,000+ that came in through an Indiegogo campaign that blew me away. The days I didn’t tweet excessively or post amateur Photoshop graphics are the days where the donations would pour in. God doesn’t need me. He chooses me to join Him in His journey. And that is absolutely beautiful.  When I doubted, He provided the immeasurable more in His way for His glory.

But perhaps it’s also in the big picture, the tough times too, the times when we can’t quite pinpoint the “why.” God doesn’t think like we do. He sees the entire picture and promises that He will always work for our good. It may not always feel good or look good, or we may choose sin over Him, but He will always work for our good because that’s who He is.  Closing yet another chapter with goodbyes that don’t get any easier, I cling to this truth: Our God is limitless. Vast. Without bounds. He’s the God of immeasurably more.

This life isn’t even about me. It’s for the immeasurably more in the name of Jesus.