Pneumonia.
I got some Kenyan coffee.
My daughter got a t-shirt.
My husband got pneumonia.
Talk about a souvenir. Thankfully, with the miracle of antibiotics, he's already feeling a little better. But it stinks that he's been in our house for 4 days, but not really gotten home yet.
Thanks to all of you who have been praying for my husband on his trip to Sudan. He made it in safe and sound last night. Unfortunately, he began feeling extremely ill on his last flight, and spent the better part of today in bed. I think his fever broke sometime this evening, and he's feeling a little better. Tomorrow will tell if we need a trip to the doctor. Once he gets to feeling better, I'll post some of his stories. For now, I'm just hoping he's not contagious...that'd be one heck of a souvenir...
Thanks so much to everyone who has been praying for my husband. He should be on a plane, as I type, headed to Kenya and then on home the following day.
The group had a wonderful trip, and as expected witnessed many amazing things. When I spoke to him briefly today, he sounded energized and very hopeful. The area itself has been fairly tough. According to an update from the trip leader, the area contends with "rampant drunkeness on an incredible scale. And we’re not talking about having a few beers, I’m talking Sorghum moonshine that makes a crazy, eyes roll back in your head drunk." Additionally the team has faced a strong resistance the Gospel, and did a lot of prayer walking and praying over the sick.
Many more stories and updates to come. Thanks again for your prayers; they have definitely been felt.
About two years ago, the movie The Man (starring Samuel Jackson and Eugene Levy) hit movie theaters with underwhelming success. True, it left much to be desired, and had I seen it in the theater I might have been disappointed I couldn’t get that money or time back. Admittedly, however, I found the interaction between over-talkative, naive fuddy-duddy salesman (Levy) and cool, but angry under-cover agent (Jackson) mildly amusing...even to the point of a few bursts of laughter out loud. One scene in particular remains lodged in my mind. Jackson commits some sort of questionable act or crime (I don’t remember) and tells Levy to get into the car. Before Levy gets into the car he looks at Jackson and slowly and deliberately blinks both eyes at the same time. Then he tells Jackson, “I’m taking a mental snapshot of you.”
I think about that scene periodically because sometimes I wish I could take real pictures I could keep forever from the perspective of my eyes. I don’t trust my brain to remember all of those shots in as clear details as my camera captures. Shots like my daughter as a baby sleeping peacefully on my shoulder. You could never get the camera angle and distance just right to see it from my perspective. Or when we look at each other nose to nose and she cups my face in her little hands.
So I do take those mental snapshots and do my best to remember them with the highest resolution possible. I thought of this scene again, as I walked around last week taking mental snapshots of my husband before he left on his trip.
Playing in the yard with my daughter. Snap.
Asleep in bed next to me, snoring ever so slightly. Snap.
Coming in the door from work. Snap.
I’ve never been nervous about him going anywhere - not even Africa. And I wasn’t about this trip, either, until a friend asked him (out of curiosity) if we had had a discussion about the “what if.” I don’t think I was naive in not having thought something could possibly go wrong. I certainly recognize it could. In my mind, though, I knew something could happen on his way to work just as easily (and probably more likely) as it could on this trip. Sure, Sudan isn’t the safest place in the world...but neither is New York City. And Sudan and Africa in general are not unknowns to me; I’ve been there. But the question planted a small seed of doubt in my mind, and for the first time I felt a little nervous.
At first, I didn’t even realize that I was taking those snapshots “in case.” I don’t really think anything dangerous is going to happen, but in the back of my mind is that seed of worry. I’m thankful that it’s there because it gives me a deeper understanding and connection with those (like our parents) who are openly anxious about his safety. My prayer is that he comes home healthy and safely, with many stories to tell about the exciting things he has witnessed God doing. Ultimately, though, my prayer is that God’s will is done through his going there, and that his sacrifice to go - however great it might be - will bring glory and honor to the One who sent him.
My husband leaves for Sudan tomorrow for a couple weeks. If you think of him during your day, we'd appreciate your prayers!
And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven…” Matthew 18:3-4
During our trip to Africa, we visited a slum area in a village outside of Mbale-town. The main trade (and vice) of this area was a grain alcohol made from fermented corn. We met a small congregation inside the area who offered hope to their community. Many of the women participated in a Woman’s Enterprise project in which they learned how to form small businesses to sustain their families. The church was growing and truly beginning to make a difference in their small community.
But the amazing story behind the church left me awed at the mysterious way God works. As we sat and listened to testimonies and songs, a large group of children joined the meeting on the floor directly across from us. The pastor later told us they called the church the children’s church. A missionary visited this slum some years before and began the church with a seemingly solid foundation. Many in the community came to Christ, including children. However, at some point the missionary left and slowly the church began to dwindle as the members slipped back into their previous way of life. The children, however, remained.
And they prayed.
They prayed for their parents, their teachers, their community and their church. They prayed for God to save their community. They prayed until the adults began returning to the church.
We often think about the phrase “faith like a child” as all about being simple, and in comparison to being complex, it is. But just because it is simple, does not mean it lacks depth. Children are persistent, single-minded and determined. To have faith like a child doesn’t mean you follow along unthinking because you were told to. It doesn’t even mean having faith will always be easy and carefree. Becoming like little children means to allow ourselves complete dependence on God because we trust Him and love Him. It means clinging to Him when we are scared or we don’t understand what’s going on around us. It means pursuing Him with a single-minded focus, unrelenting because we long to just sit in His lap and be with Him.
Photo: Children's Church in Uganda (2004)
I met Kay two years ago, at my first Mount Hermon conference. She encouraged me greatly with her heart for the global Body of Christ, and her courage to travel around the world to gather the stories of persecuted women. She's written an awesome book called Daughters of Hope that I highly recommend. I'm pleased to introduce to you, Kay Strom.
Kay Marshall Strom
Freelancer, married for 8 years, written for 20 years, currently in Santa Barbara, CA
What is your passion in life? Actually, it has come out of my writing. My passion at this time is letting believers in this country know that they are part of the global family of God. They need us as much as we need them. It pains me that we don’t realize we’re part of a bigger family. Being a part of the Body does not just mean that we need to help our brothers and sisters around the world, but to realize that we need them just as much. We think we’re just depriving them, but really we are depriving ourselves, too. And we are depriving the Body of God.
How did this come about? That’s actually an interesting story. I love to read historical biographies. I was reading the story of Marie Antoinette. It’s amazing, she’s not as hard hearted as we think; she was just totally clueless. She had all the royal people over for a banquet, and there was so much food the tables were sagging - all while people in Paris were starving. After everyone left, she turned to the Emperor and said, “Let’s not throw away all this food, let’s spread the leftovers on the sidewalk.” As they stood and watched the people lick the sidewalk so as not to waste anything, she said “We are so good for the poor; they should love us.” The poor people of France heard this, clenched their fist and resolved to have her head. A week later, 9/11 occurred. At church on Sunday, an elder in church stood up and talked about the need to pray for the families of those who had lost their lives. Then he shared that he didn’t know how this could happen. “We are so good to the world, everyone should love us.” And I thought, we’re just like Marie Antoinette, and the world is going to have our heads. That became the inspiration to write Daughters of Hope (Kay’s book sharing stories of women around the world who are persecuted for their faith). I was in India interviewing women for my book, and as I normally closed my interviews, I asked if there was anything else someone would like to say to me. They asked me if I had ever been kicked out of my house for being a Christian, thrown rocks at, persecuted, hated, denied food for being a Christian. I answered, “No, we just don’t face that type of attack in the US.” Then they asked me if we did have to suffer, would we still be Christians? And I thought for a long time, and didn’t know how to answer. They said they would pray for strength for us. They would pray that if we did have to face persecution that we would endure it. And they asked me to tell everyone I spoke to that they were praying for them. When I am asked to speak - even at Rotary meetings - I share their story.
How has your writing affected your walk? It has changed it totally. It has changed my perspective on life and death, on my purpose in being here. The biggest battle is being patient with others. I know other people haven’t been where I’ve been. We complain about things here, but we’re so fixated on the wrong things. It is so hard to be patient with what I see in the American church. When you go and see, you can’t come back and be the same. I will never to my dying day, get out of my mind the pictures of the people in Sudan - the most wonderful people in the world - who bounced back despite the most incredible things. When I talked with them, they asked me, “Does anyone care about us?” No one asked me for money, they asked me to pray for them. They requested we pray for their children that they will stay firm to the faith (aka be willing to die, be persecuted). When we left them, they ran behind our bus as fast as they could for as long as they could keep up, saying “Pray for us” and then they disappeared into a cloud of dust. I still see that image in my mind. If only we would truly partner with our brothers and sisters around the world.
As Palm Sunday approaches, how do you celebrate Christ’s entrance into your life? I remember reading through the Bible as a 13 year old, trying to figure out how to get it all together, when I came to Micah 6:6-7, “With what shall I come to the Lord and bow myself before the God on high? Shall I come to Him with burnt offerings, With yearling calves? Does the LORD take delight in thousands of rams, In ten thousand rivers of oil? Shall I present my firstborn for my rebellious acts, The fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?” And then comes the answer in verse 8. “He has told you, O man, what is good; And what does the LORD require of you But to do justice, to love kindness, And to walk humbly with your God?” That’s how I celebrate and pray to celebrate - to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with my God.
For me, the sufficiency of Christ was the most profound lesson I learned on our trip. Let me approach this from a couple angles.
1) As I mentioned in my last post , we expected to minister to the people we encountered. After all, we were from the United States. We own plenty; the Africans have little. I don’t think we realized the arrogance of our mindsets until we realized how little we did have to offer. For one, the needs are so overwhelming that we didn’t even know where to begin. Additionally, we found ourselves being served more than we were able to serve. Families sacrificed their only meat for the month, so we could have a meal that we didn’t need. Our hosts gave us chairs, while everyone else sat on the floor. Children serenaded us with songs prepared in advance for our arrival. It impacted all of us deeply. I was completely humbled by the fact that I had absolutely nothing to offer, although I thought I was going to be some sort of hero, serving them. All I had to offer was Christ, and He was sufficient.
2) We visited many Christian communities during our visit. One such group was a church comprised of people suffering from HIV/AIDS. They banded together as a community because their communities had rejected them. In East Africa, AIDS is a socially isolating disease, which is a major part of the problem. Several people shared their testimonies with us. They talked about the lack of access to proper medications, the lack of food to eat - not only so they wouldn’t be hungry, but so the drugs they were able to take didn’t make them sicker, the lack of clean water and the lack of love from their families and former communities. But I don’t believe they shared these problems with us to gain our pity. Their testimonies didn’t stop there. They talked of their love for God who watches over them, who cares for them when no one else had and who they can’t wait to see when they leave their earthly bodies. Then they sang praises...praises from the lips and hearts of people whose God is sufficient for them. As our group debriefed that evening we could barely talk about our experience. As I sit here and type this, I can hardly keep from becoming emotional all over again. From an earthly point of view, these people had no reason to be joyful, and yet their love, their joy and their hope was more profound than ANY place I have ever been. He alone is sufficient.
3) Lastly, the so-called title of this little blog series came from my lowest point during the entire trip. I lay on my bed in a grass hut in Sudan, and it was about half way through the trip. I saw and experienced so much in those first three weeks and the weight of it all began to press down on me. I cried out to God, “I can’t do this, Lord. I don’t know how in the world to love these people. They are nothing like me. I have nothing to offer them. I can’t live in a grass hut. I miss running water. I don’t like the bugs. I’m tired. I don’t know how to even make it through the rest of this trip.” And I recalled the verse in Philippians, chapter four. We often quote verse 13 (I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me) as a sort of mantra that “we can do it”, but we pull it out of context. Verses 12-13 say, “...I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.” What is Paul saying? Christ is sufficient. He is sufficient in any situation we are in, and His sufficiency is what gets us through.
I know this is a long post, but this lesson was monumental to me. I’ll leave you with a few pictures and words that I shared during our reports back to the churches who supported us. I’d love for you to comment on how you have found Christ to be sufficient for you.
Where we expected to find despair...we found HOPE.
Where we found death and sorrow, we also found LIFE and JOY.
Where we found the fatherless, we found the FATHER.
We found that we are inadequate. We have nothing to offer ourselves, but Christ is SUFFICIENT. Philippians 4:12-13
Photo: Church service at AIDS church, Rwanda (2004); Congregation at AIDS church, Rwanda (2004); Genocide Memorial, Kigali, Rwanda (2004); Coffins holding at least 10 people each from genocide, Kigali, Rwanda (2004); Street children, Rwanda (2004); Sudanese orphanage, Sudan (2004); Family watching, Rwanda (2004)
Three years ago in July, our team of nine boarded planes in Texas and California headed toward Minneapolis, MN to reunite, and then on to Africa for a six-week exploratory mission trip. We were eager, excited and ready to take on anything that came our way, just so long as we got to see first hand the needs in Africa and minister to the people we encountered. Little did we know that our first obstacle would manifest itself as a “mechanical difficulty” on our plane in the US. That delay created a ripple effect in our flight schedules, and we ended up stranded in Amsterdam overnight. In order to keep all nine of us together, the ticket agent booked us on a flight to Nairobi, Kenya (East Africa) via Accra, Ghana (West Africa) instead of a direct flight. Note #1 - Never allow your flight plans to be redirected to the other side of the continent of Africa. Wait for a direct flight. That little detour ended up costing us 3 more days (for reasons too long to explain here). Note #2 - Don’t leave the airport without the proper visas and paying the proper entrance fees...even if the airline agents tells you it’s okay. Immigration does not appreciate that.
What a discouraging start! We missed the time we had planned in Nairobi, and would have to leave immediately for our next destination in Rwanda. As our team prayed over and discussed our frustration, we were reminded of God’s sovereignty over our trip. We had barely even begun, and in our minds we had already taken over control. Thankfully, God lovingly reminded us who’s trip it really was before we travelled very far.
We also realized that we needed the rest we found in Amsterdam before our difficult journey. The time of preparation before our trip had been, for many, a stressful time, particularly as the final dollars of our support came in literally days before we left. Additionally, readying our households for a six-week absence had been an enormous task of its own. God prepared this time of rest for us - in an amazing hotel - when we didn’t even realize we needed it. Indeed, His plan is best, even when we don’t immediately understand (or agree!).
Our time in Ghana was really a unifying time for our group. Our adventure through the airport, among the crowd and in a stressful situation helped us see how we could better work together and support one another. As we sat in a compound outside the airport, in the dark and in a foreign country that was not part of our plan, we had to admit our complete dependence on Him. We were tired, scared, confused and frustrated. At exactly the moment of our deepest emotions, we heard praise and worship songs that we knew - in English - wafting over the radio of the armed guard protecting the compound. We were assured of God’s presence and His Sovereignty.
When we finally arrived in Nairobi, we exited immigration with little hope of finding our luggage, which should have arrived three days before. As we glided down the escalator, we were astounded to see ALL of our luggage - every single piece of it - stacked up in a neat little pile waiting for us. He is sovereign even over the tiniest details.
All of these precious reminders were just in the first five days of our trip. God displayed for us His Sovereignty throughout the entire time, and I am still left in awe of His plan and His provision.
Photo: Praying in the Minneapolis Airport, Minnesota (2004)
A recent post by Craver reminded me of a little book I started to write about my experience in Africa a couple years ago. My working title was “Grass Hut Reflections” because it was while lying in a grass hut in Sudan that I hit my lowest point (and greatest spiritual insight) during the six-week trip. I haven’t done anything with the work I started on that book (which wasn’t much more than a table of contents and some pictures), and I was thinking that the heart for Africa part of my life is not very evident on my blog...so I thought I would take one chapter per week for the next several weeks and post on it. I’ll aim to do it on Tuesdays, but I can’t say for sure I’ll be super consistent.
Photo: Grass Hut, Sudan (2004)
