truth

After weeks of silence from this blog, I think I’ve finally pinpointed one of the biggest difficulties for me coming back to the US enough for me to put it into words. It isn’t having to go on a gluten-free diet (although the Frito-flavored cereal sure is something). It isn’t the clutter of media that seems to dictate our lives. It isn’t our materialistic lifestyle. It isn’t going from isolation to being surrounded by so many people I know. It isn’t the shift of my work (though that is quite a biggie).

No, it’s not those things.

Rather, it’s fighting to see the Truth of life amidst so many distractions, stressors, frustrations and fleeting happiness.

There are so, so many moments where I’ve just curled up in a ball on the armchair, tuning out the overwhelming responsibilities of life with TLC. I may or may not have just had one of those moments, this time with a Chai Latte in hand.

But something inside me fights for more, something that wants to be heard.

I shut down when things go crazy. Right now things seem pretty crazy. We just came off of an insane election season, where social media has blown everything up. I’ve returned thinking everything will be the same, but 3 months have passed. CiH staff is in huge transition, and seemingly greatly decreasing when we could use anything but that. We need $70,000 for 2013 operations and for a great need that requires $25,000 in January (which will be announced tomorrow). I don’t know where I’ll be living in January, nor do I have my ticket booked yet. Plans and communication with Zambian operations get pretty funky some days. The tune sounds pretty familiar, huh? Yet I still trap myself in these things, in the logistics, the practicalities of how to fix it all.

But what about Truth?

I’ve been blessed with an incredibly supportive family to be here for me in this season. I’ve stood beside my best friend with tear-filled eyes as she joyfully married her prince this past weekend. I’ve laughed harder than I have in months with great friends who have been there for me, even 6,000 miles away. I enjoyed a great birthday surprise and wonderful moments with the best boyfriend.

But what about Truth?

The Truth is, it isn’t about a weighing and balancing of bad and good. It doesn’t matter if I spin my mind to outweigh the really bad with all of these great things.

What matters is that Jesus died for me so that I could live in Him, today, this moment, in America. His love covers all fears and anxiety. Through grace, His love for me doesn’t ever change. I am complete in Him. The price has already been paid. The Truth is that this life isn’t really about me and my struggles at all; it’s about God receiving the glory from my life.

Jesus, let that Truth soak on in. 

great

Just 24 hours from now I'll be hopping in the car to ride to the airport, past the checkpoint that checks under your car for game (monkey, zebra, lion, etc.) smuggling, and up to one of 6 gates for international travel. I'm leaving Zambia. Now I'm quick to say that I'll be back in January, God-willing, but for now I have to go. This ticket has been booked, and against the common thought, I may not be quite that ready to leave.

But I know it's time. It's time to share the stories of women who have forever impacted my life, of a God who if faithful to fulfill His promises, of joy inexplicable when I choose to walk in His will for His glory. It's also time for some mega-fundraising, and none of this is a surprise to the Lord, thankfully.

The trickiest part is, though, how do I communicate what these past 12 weeks have meant in my life? For a time that's felt like years with days that feel like weeks, what do I say?

"Great" will never be an appropriate response to "how was Zambia?!"

But what else can I say?

How do I communicate that from living with an incredible family and having my brother here, to living in complete isolation, to now having the most amazing friends, God has taught me the blessing of community and that we're not created to live completely alone? Maybe those nights spent alone, watching hours of TV shows on my computer were actually quite necessary. If that time of isolation was what I needed for God to reveal His plan of community to me, to know that His community satisfies above all, then for isolation, I am thankful.

How do I communicate the feeling of CiH women, my new best friends, look me in the eye at our going-away ice cream party, and tell me, "We will miss you. We love you." after all of the hardships we've faced together through the launch of this program? How do I share that even though we struggle to speak the same language most days, we've formed an incredible bond through laughter and love, a love that breaks every barrier?

How do I communicate the abundant provision of the Lord and His proven faithfulness here from friends to NGO application approval in a miraculous amount of time, to the CiH women taking ownership of the program so much quicker than anticipated, to the amazing story that's to come of what's next for us?

How do I communicate life here, in slum compounds with rotting animals on the dirt road, filled with kids with too-skinny bodies but too-big of bellies, trash piled high at ever turn, clinic lines never shortening, yet churches with singing filling the air and laughter persisting regardless of the quality of life? And what about the other life here, in pristine grocery stores with all imported goods, nearly empty movie theaters and upper-crust social events? How do I tell people that when I took my women for ice cream on Friday, that it was their first time seeing an escalator or elevator and they all wanted a "snap" (photo) with them, and that their trip to the grocery store was the highlight of their day after having gone months, years or even lifetimes without having shopped anywhere else except for the compound roadside store?

How do I communicate how corruption is obvious in every aspect of life here, that poverty is so much deeper and complicated than just a lack of money? How do I express that every "difficulty" here has a deep-rooted issue behind it, such as drivers licenses that were previously given out for bribes, so over half of drivers on the road don't actually know how to drive? Or that I'll always be charged another price on minibuses and at the market for being a "mzungu" (outsider)?

How do I express that despite every weight that tries to tear me down, every day that seems too exhausting, every issue that is more culturally complex than my American mind can comprehend, that these past 12 weeks have been some of the most incredible I've experienced in my life? When everything should've shut me down and sent me out, God has kept me in His hand, has given me grace to endure, and has shown me more of Himself through every difficult experience here.

Somehow I don't think it's all Zambia's fault though, or even life in a third-world country. I think the miscommunication really occurs when Jesus has instructed me to live a life greater than myself for His purpose in a mass of discomfort, so that the only thing that's really consistent, that's really comforting, that's really satisfying, is Himself.

So if somehow I respond with a "great" to you, know that there is so much depth behind that answer. And if communication (or lack thereof) is just another step of discomfort that brings me closer to Jesus, then bring it on.

victory

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I (Jesus) came that they may have life and have it abundantly. I am the good Shepherd.” John 10:10-11a

We’ve probably all heard this concept quite a bit. But living in Zambia when risk is everywhere for me, and the reality of darkness so apparent, my perception of this battle has changed. Upon arriving in Zambia in July, I believed in light and dark, but more than anything I think I believed in the battle. I believed in the hardship, the struggle, the tension of sin and holiness, but I didn’t fully grasp the outcome.

Jesus has won. The battle between light and dark, good and evil, is so very real, and we should always be on guard, but there’s more to the story. Whenever battle comes along, there isn’t a coin flipped for the outcome. We know the outcome and we can bet on it. It just depends on whose team we’re on. If we’re on Jesus’, we’ll win. If we’re not, we’ll lose, we’ll be defeated. There are only 2 teams. Light and dark. That’s it. When we’re in the light, dark can’t remain; light has extreme favor over dark, and that’s the beauty of it. When darkness fully exists, it seems suffocatingly real and powerful. But the second there’s even a match struck, an invitation to let Jesus in to fight regardless of our sin, the darkness can’t remain. It just can’t. I’m not saying we won’t experience hardship or burden in our lives. Jesus promises that we will when following Him. But there’s greater news than the battle: Jesus has the victory, and through Him the victory is also ours.

Why today? Why this post?

Allow me to reflect back on the very real presence of darkness during my few months here in Zambia alone as a 22-year-old blonde woman. I’m telling these stories in retrospect because maybe that’ll take some of the severity out of them when you know the outcome.

How did Jesus show me that there are only 2 teams, and that in Him I have victory, that no darkness can overcome the light? And that in Him there’s “abundant life?”

Laying in my bed hearing gunshots fired, dogs barking, at a break-in attempt a couple months back makes darkness very real. Fear. Panic. Helplessness. But Jesus is there in the darkness to strike His match of light and victory, to fight on my behalf. I didn’t have to be spared from what could’ve come from that night, but I firmly believe that it was Jesus graciously proving His power to me in my weakness and doubt.

Walking through a downtown market hearing the dehumanizing remarks, feeling the demoralizing stares at me as I walked through hundreds of people, I got a glimpse at just where women are placed in this society. I can’t say I know the bulk of it whatsoever, but I can say that despite my feeling to curl up in a ball in the alley next to a bucket of fish heads, Jesus said to my heart, “take My hand, You’re mine. These men cannot hurt the beauty I’ve created in your soul. No matter what happens, no matter what they say or do, these men cannot claim victory over what is Mine."

Riding out to Muchochoma today with Elina and Doreen, leaders of the CiH Ng’ombe group, and Elizabeth Zulu, leader of the CiH Muchochoma group, joy filled the air with laughs and smiles down that bumpy dirt road in anticipation of the first village payday. That is, until our driver took a turn too sharply, and the car spun out of control from side to side on the loose gravel. We miraculously (honestly) stopped just inches from a road gutter/ditch that would’ve probably cost us our lives, or at least weeks in a village clinic. We sat stunned.  After moments of shock, I began to think about how these 3 women with me are God’s provision for CiH, and that if something happened to us then what would come of our program here? Documents are signed by these women, cards in their names, and they’re established as leaders in their communities. It’s obviously not all about us, but it’s also obvious that Jesus wants us here pretty badly to carry out His work. When darkness seems thick, risk so high, Jesus proves His victory time and time again. Today I felt Him saying “these are MY daughters; nothing can touch them, not even the thief. I have the victory, and I have fought for them.”

There are countless stories of risk and fear in everyday life here in Zambia. But why fear when Jesus has made me victorious through Himself, and His complete defeat of darkness? Why worry when I know He’s holding my hand every single day I walk alone to the Ng’ombe slum compound?

When there are only 2 sides, I’m thankful that Jesus has redeemed me, forgiven me, pulled me out of my sin to be on the side of victory. But most of all, I’m thankful that I see more of Him every single day. And that He’s put me on this earth to love as I'm completely loved, by His grace alone.

ALL this for HIS glory.

global

I spend my weekdays with Zambians in poverty, also with Zambians who have plenty. I enjoy weekends with friends from Texas, South Carolina, Connecticut, the UK and Kenya. I go to a church lead by Zimbabweans, filled with Americans, Zambians, South Africans, and there's bound to be more represented there as well. I patron businesses run by men of Middle Eastern descent. It really is incredible to take a step back to see so many countries represented in this third world one.

Which gets my mind wandering. How can I believe and live like faith is only about me, my fears, my sin, my burdens, my joys, my plans, and my desires? How can I limit faith in Jesus to a few devotional books, a cute journal, fancy pens, and a few short minutes per day? How have I walked 22 years of my life living like Christianity is inward? This world is huge.

These questions stated above may sound extreme, ridiculous, or even outrageous to be put in such terms. But for me, I believe there's so much truth in them and in this idea of cultural Christianity. I'm no expert, I'm just one person believes in the Bible for Truth, who sees Jesus' children as His witnesses and testimony to His truth, and whose life has been forever changed by Truth and redemption of Jesus. And from what I've seen and experienced over the last 2 months of living here in Zambia surrounded by and forming relationships with so many different types of people, something is off.

God's church is global. You may be thinking "duh." I've thought that too. I've thought that the one-Sunday-a-year devotion to learning about the nations and God's work there was enough.

Why? Why limit God's Kingdom? Why put bounds on something that's infinite, not just global, but eternal? Why segment humanity into groupings when we're all after One heart, in search of One hope and Savior for life's significance, given each day by the One who created it?

My pastor here always says, "Faith is personal; it's not private."

I can't speak for anyone else, but I'm done with faith being a private, self-fulfilling focus on personal peace and comfort, rather than a journey of risk, beauty, redemption, hope, selflessness, a journey of Jesus. I don't earn more of His love through this shift in focus; His grace covers my sin regardless of what I do from the sacrifice He made on the cross. But His love is free to pour through me to His children of the world when I ask His Spirit to help me tear down these walls of "typical faith" to open my heart wide to what He's created us for.

After all, He's the One who said the harvest isn't over. Not even close. "Truly, truly I say to you, whoever believes in Me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I am going to the Father." John 14:12

Greater works than these? I don't think that can happen when my focus is completely turned inward to fulfilling my desires and wrestling God over my plans. So even though I return to America in just 10 short days, I pray for a global heart. A heart after my Father's. There's great joy in getting lost in His heart, in living the lives we're created to live.

dreamers

I used to think you had to be special for God to use you, but now I know you simply need to say yes. 
I used to think God was good some of the time, but now I know He's good all the time. 
...we need to stop plotting the course and instead just land the plane on our plans to make a difference by getting to the "do" part of faith. 
-bob goff

Last night I had dinner with 7 others on a backyard table lit with candles. Dinner lasted for hours, stories were exchanged, advice given, laughs shared, but afterwards it wasn't these things, or even the food that struck a chord inside my heart. It was the fact that the 7 people I shared dinner with, 7 people all doing different things here in Lusaka, were all under 25 years old. They didn't know their 5 year plan, they didn't know what the next 6 months would hold for them with work or even if they'd still be in Lusaka on down the road, but they're here. 

What's so bad about being a dreamer? What's so bad about breaking down walls of comfort in planning, resumes, obsession with the biggest paycheck or best internship, to do get out and do what we're passionate about? What God's designed us for? 

We'll probably fail, a lot. We won't have the luxury/curse of seeing months down the road. But I think we will delight in walking by faith, free of the idols we spend carving out in our "busyness," living a life that differs from the "norm." 

So dream. But then do. It doesn't have to be perfect. It doesn't have to be organized to every last detail. It just has to happen. 

I'm not asking you all to move to Lusaka (though I wouldn't mind a few new friends here), because that's probably not your dream. What's your dream? What seems too big, too scary, too "radical" for you to do? Do it. Because God will be right there to see you through it. Somehow I don't think He wants you stuffed in a cubicle in a job you hate in a life you don't enjoy without purpose or love in what you do, unless that's your dream. 

What do you dream about? Going to grad school to learn about what makes your heart beat a little faster? Traveling to a foreign country to experience another culture? Interning at some small nonprofit to see life through a different lens? Adopting a child? Transitioning your family's schedule out of routine soccer practices and school plays, to serve your community together? Starting a church? Getting more involved in yours? Taking up photography? Opening a bakery? God wants to use your dreams for His glory. He really does. 

So dare to be a dreamer. 

one

One month from today I’ll be boarding a plane back to the US. I should be super excited right? Excited for great food, a comfy bed, a predictable routine, tons of people similar to me to surround me, conveniences of shopping and everyday life, fast internet, long showers, English spoken everywhere. Right? Is that what I’m supposed to feel?

What if I told you that I’m not excited for these things? What if I told you I have this nasty feeling in the pit of my stomach about returning to the US in fear that I’ll slip right back into my comfort-driven lifestyle, competitive for fame, success and acknowledgement of others, selfish and narrow-minded, cluttered and overly busy?

Sitting down to write this post, I’m discovering that I’m even a bit more torn up over this than I thought. I don’t want to go back. I want to stay uncomfortable. I want to keep this simple lifestyle, the one that is the closest reflection of living how Jesus intended us to as I’ve ever felt. Relational, de-cluttered, dependent, an awareness that I can’t cause anything to be, full of love- real, painful, sacrificial, joyful, abundant love.

Maybe this will be just the step I need though. This isn’t a surprise to God. He planned it exactly this way. I know that I need to be home to fundraise (a LOT) for CiH to allow continued growth here. Incredible stories have been written over the past 2 months that I can’t wait to share, and my heart’s been impacted more than I realized. I know I’ll be so grateful to spend sweet time with my best friends and family. This isn’t just about me, it’s about them too, and words will never be able to express my love for these incredible people in my life. So I know I need to be back, regardless of my wants.

In this moment of just sitting, allowing myself to be real about my feelings towards going home, I feel a wave of peace. Not silence, but peace. I know this is my home. I know I will be back, very, very soon. I know He only has good for me. I know I am just part of His plan here in Zambia, and He won’t leave when I do. I know I am nothing apart from Him. So while my heart feels more bitter than sweet about leaving, I can stand on the peace He’s poured over my undeserving heart.

I know I’ll continually fail to express this tension I feel while I’m in the States, words just aren’t enough and it’s not a shared experience. But I rejoice in the great friends He’s given me here who get it, after all seemed so incredibly isolating at the start. He knew I needed to walk through the darkness alone to cling to His light, to realize the gift of friendship in a place so different than the States.

As I look back over the last 2 months of my time here, woah buddy. There are too many lessons to name, too many hurts to express, too many joys to share, but one thing I can share: God is faithful to fulfill His promises. In His perfect time in His perfect way. I thought this trip would be it for a while, to come and go as I lived my comfy, cushy life in the States, but today I know of a different plan. His plan.

If the Lord continues to will it to be, I will be back in just a few months to the place my heart calls home, to the people I laugh with though I can’t carry on a conversation with, to this uncertain, risky, chaotic, yet incredibly beautiful city. Thank You Jesus for letting me be a part of Your heart here. Thank You for never letting go of my hand, every step of this joyfully painful journey. I live for You. Nothing else can satisfy; nothing else can come close to the joy of walking in Your will.

So walk I will. In the States during the craziest season of the year. Already I start to feel overwhelmed, but this is His will. So against all feelings of mine, I’ll ask for my heart to grow for Him during this season ahead. Yes it’s daunting, but I walk hand-in-hand with the Redeemer of the world. Why fear? Why worry?

Take my fears. Take my anxiety. Take my selfishness for this place. Take my heart. Make it yours. Less of me, all of You. 

thirty-one

Fridays are paydays for the CiH women. They receive the profits for the bracelets they hand in after passing through community quality inspection. These days are days full of joy, with laughing, singing, cheering and too many smiles to count. I don't think they're just excited about some paper bills with lions and birds and Zambia photos on them. I think they're joyful in the changes they see in their own lives through Jesus giving them this opportunity to enjoy a new quality of life. I think this because I laugh, I sing, I cheer, I smile, too, and I don't get a cent on Fridays. I receive more joy in those days than I have in so many others, because I think this is exactly what God wants for His daughters: community, joy, work, growth, provision, an understanding of His faithfulness and love.

Before I keep going, let me just frame the Friday experience with one moment that I'll never forget. Emeli is the one woman who has never spoken a word of English in our entire group. No "hi." No "fine" as the go-to reply for "how are you?" We still communicate though, through hand motions, demonstrations, and mostly through laughter. It's a friendship that I treasure. She's a beautiful woman. All along I've been learning, wanting to get to know their culture more. They're gracious to teach me patiently about gender roles, language, food, traditions, etc, but it always seemed to be pretty one-way. Like I had to dive into Zambian culture to really meet them, which is how I assumed it should be. So anyways, Emeli received her profit on Friday and I said "zikomo" (thank-you) for her quality work and time dedication. And just for being her, but she prob didn't pick up on that part. It was one of the first times I used Nyanja (the language) around her because I really wanted to enter into her world, because God's been so gracious to let me see this way of living in this nation, a fascinating one. Instead of the anticipated nod and smile, Emeli, sweet Emeli, said to me, "thank you." What a tender and special moment for both of us. What a beautiful thing to enjoy each other in this world, no matter the differences, the boundaries that seem like walls. There is always more to learn about each other. There is always beauty to be seen in each other's lives. And I think we just saw a glimpse of that on Friday afternoon.

That moment with Emeli was so special. I didn't even think it had that much of an impact on me until I just couldn't shake it all weekend. Why? Because I love those women. I love their beauty. I love their joy. I love their love for Jesus. I love what He shows me through them.

And lately it's been the beauty of the Proverbs 31 woman. Not for gender expectations, or keeping the woman in the house like it's been perceived and taught sometimes, but quite the opposite. Looking into God's heart for women and true beauty in these verses, I see that the CiH women are a direct portrayal of how He's designed women, and the encouragement they are to so many when they just trust in their identity made by Him. Here are the verses I just can't ignore as a mirror reflection from each one of those women:

v. 13 She seeks will and flax and works with willing hands.
v. 14 She is like the ships of a merchant; she brings food from afar.
v. 15 She rises while it is yet night and provides food for her household.
v. 17 She dresses herself with strength and makes her arms strong.
v. 18 She perceives that her merchandise is profitable. Her lamp does not go out at night.
v. 19 She puts her hands on the distaff, and her hands hold the spindle.
v. 20 She opens her hands to the poor and reaches out her hands to the needy. (yes, even this one)
v. 24 She makes linen garments and sells them; she delivers sashes to the merchant.
v. 25 Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come.
v. 26 She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.
v. 27 She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat up the bread of idleness.
v. 29 "Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all."
v. 30 Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
v. 31 Give her the fruit of her hands and let her works praise her in the gates.

There are references in this description of a Proverbs 31 woman that refers to a husband. But somehow, I think Jesus is still glorified in the widow, the single mother, who works to praise the Lord, who doesn't accept what culture tells her about her life and instead clings to His promises.

What a blessing to be witnessing these women as reflections of their intended identity in Christ, to be learning from them even if they don't think they're teaching me. Beyond me, what a blessing for them to be pillars in Ng'ombe, shining His light through work, beauty, trust, desperation, confidence, selflessness and love.