holy

Last night was a holy night.

I was scheduled to speak at a local church’s women’s small group dinner. I didn’t know what to expect, but I’ve done enough of these that I wasn’t nervous about it (tell that to my 19-year-old self struggling in public speaking class).

I entered a gymnasium/auditorium/fellowship hall with 8 round tables adorned with Christmas decorations. A buffet awaited its guests. One-by-one, women trickled in. Most 60+, a few 30ish to 60, but my table was filled with women over 60 who joked about how nice it would be to be 50 again. These women tucked me right into their fellowship, blind to my age. We became fast friends.

Dinner gave way to the speaking part of the evening. I took my place at the podium, microphone in hand, and slideshow ready to go. And, like dozens and dozens of times before, I shared the beginnings of Clothed in Hope.

The only difference was the state of my heart in that building. I was worn. out. Exhausted from pouring over fundraising efforts that weren’t happening. From staring at a progress needle that wasn’t rising to meet the goal.

I knew the words to say in my presentation and I recited them by memory. But somewhere after I showed the video of what we do and before sharing Jessy’s story, words became belief. I was speaking the words, the miracles of Clothed in Hope over my own heart that needed so desperately to hear them.

To hear of God’s faithfulness time and time again.

To hear of abundant provision.

To hear of lives set free, of chains of oppression broken.

To hear of 40-year-old women realizing their worth for the first time ever.

To hear of the road that God has allowed us to walk in, proclaiming freedom for the captives, bringing beauty from ashes, joy from mourning. Creating a place for women who are dejected, rejected, abused and forgotten, to experience belonging, love, fellowship, freedom. To experience a Love like no other. To meet Jesus.

We took a pause to watch Jessy’s story (now circulating on our social media sites), and tears just welled up.

I HAVE BEEN GIVEN THE GIFT TO PROCLAIM FREEDOM OVER WOMEN WHO HAVE BEEN TOLD THAT THEY DO NOT MEAN ANYTHING TO THE WORLD. I GET TO PROCLAIM LOVELINESS OVER WOMEN WHO ARE ABUSED DAILY. I GET TO BE PART OF GOD’S REDEMPTION STORY IN THE LIVES OF VULNERABLE WOMEN IN ZAMBIA.

I GET to do this!!! And that became my song, my invitation to women in the room. WE get to do this. WE get to be part of God’s great plan in the lives of women who are just like us but who are living in the midst of unfathomable hardship.

After the presentation I expected to get a few questions, a few “hello’s” as is typical. But instead I was handed a wad of checks and cash that was collected.

A 92-year-old woman learned of her YES, of her role in this redemption story, and she jumped in with the $10 she was able to give.

A grandmother who had yet to leave NC took the invitation to be part of life-change in Zambia, doing her part right where she is to empower and remind women of their dignity.

Check after check, $10 and $100 and everything in between represented the most beautiful thing. Women coming together for other women. Standing in the gap of injustice and oppression and really, really hard things to advocate and fight for victory.  Everyone doing their part to proclaim to women in one little part of the world that love is greater, that they matter, that Jesus loves them, and that they are not alone.

Holding hands oceans apart, united with a common mission: to see God glorified in the lives of His people.

I get chills now just typing it out and recalling it. The money raised was a miracle, a much-needed provision in this desert. But even more so was the raising up of world-changers in women who still have plenty of heart for missions regardless of age and location. And the miracle in my heart, Jesus giving me His eyes for a second, to see how brilliant this invitation is, and how even if not another cent comes in this season, His work will be accomplished. What He has called forth, He will accomplish.

The miracles go beyond the money. Our little seed of $30,000 that I used to launch Clothed in Hope back in 2012 has multiplied over and over again. We keep inviting normal people like you (and me) to be part of an eternal story, and Jesus keeps multiplying our gifts.

And if you want proof, here it is. With just 5 women starting the program in 2012, we have grown to hire 10 local staff to run the program. Clothed in Hope has impacted over 862 people. Women, children, some husbands.

59 people impacted in the very first class to EIGHT HUNDRED AND SIXTY TWO.

Y’all. WHAT? 862 people have been touched by CiH in some way or another. Some through realized worth and dignity, some through food on the table, some through lessened financial burden, some through getting to attend school for the first time ever. 

All because ordinary people, like you, like me, like the women last night, choose to be a part of an extraordinary story being written in Zambia.

We choose to stand up on behalf of the forgotten, the hurting, the marginalized.

We choose to put our little gift on the table for large multiplication.

Because this opportunity, to proclaim LIFE and HOPE over women in Zambia, is absolutely the greatest gift, and absolutely worth every sacrifice.

I left last night carrying the gifts like a most-fragile treasure. That money came forth from a holy place, and will continue its journey into hard and holy places. And I will continue to carry it with reverence, with awe, with gratefulness, because every single bit of this is nothing short of a miracle, of the greatest gift.