A Fish Tale

This past weekend I travelled to Lake Kariba in Zimbabwe. My "little sister" Britchi is staying here at Eden to work in the clinic for a month. So, as we do for many interns we packed up for an African adventure. This time we ended up at the lake. It wasn't my first time to see lake Kariba, but it was my first time to have the privilege to ride on the Ervine's boat across the lake.

This fishing trip I was determined to catch a fish seeing that I have had extremely poor luck, or skill, catching fish in Zimbabwe, a part from spear fishing. I focused extremely hard all four days trying to catch a fish. Every moment we were still on the boat I was fishing. In total I caught zero fish. I could probably even count the bites I had on both my hands. Fishing in the winter in Zimbabwe is hard work and requires lots of patience.

While I stood deep in thought waiting on the fish to bite last Saturday morning my little sister said, "This kinda reminds me of Jesus asking us to be fishers of men. It takes a lot of patience putting the Gospel out there and waiting for people to take an interest." Those words sunk deep into my heart. Yeah fishing for men. Jesus said he would make us fishers of men. I HATE fishing... it takes to much patience, focus, knowledge of how it feels when the fish bite, and the ability to strike at the right time. In reality, I am terribly at it. I LOVE fishing... the expectancy of something good and exciting happening, knowing that the reward is worth the work and wait, the thrill when you catch the fish.

"I will make you fishers of men." Yep, Jesus just sentenced us to a life of patiently offering the good news about Him every moment, ready to give an answer for the hope we have to anyone who asks.

I am not gonna lie, I hardly had the endurance to fish consistently for four days with no success. In that moment, however, the great part of that promise was that Jesus said he would make me into a fisher of men. I don't have to do it alone. I have the best fishing guide ever next to me on this boat. Jesus and I get to go on this adventure together. 

Convention: Losing Your voice While Cheering For Others.

This past week I had the opportunity to take 10 students from Eden Christian Academy to participate in the Zimbabwe Student Convention. I love this week not just because of all the fun competition, meeting new friends, and cheering on my kids, but because something special happens at Convention. I glimpse the potential of orphaned kids that believe they hold no value. I watch as through a week of interaction with other students in both social and competitive settings their confidence skyrockets and they catch the vision, even if just for a short week, that God created them uniquely and with wonderful abilities. My heart soars as I watch what God can do in people's lives through events as simple as finding out you can memorize lines for a play or run faster than your average peer. I also marvel at how as humans we seem to counteract His work with our own actions and words towards each other. My fellow sponsor Debs and I always lose our voices at Convention. See we love our students and we love to cheer for them. We love to cheer on students from other schools as well. I try so hard to make sure they hear me encouraging them to run faster, smile while singing and praising them for scoring a soccer goal that it physically hurts my voice. I care enough about them and the situation to appear and sound absolutely ridiculous so they know I am standing with them and cheering them on.

I have a dream. 

What if for one week in everyday life we could encourage one another, praise one anthers gifts and cheer one another on in our race towards God's Kingdom every moment. I think, like for my students at Convention, we might be able to change the lives of numerous brothers and sisters around us. What if we yelled our praise and encouragement so loud and long that we hurt our voices?

Will you take up the challenge? Will you and I train out tongues to indeed follow Eph. 4:29?

"Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others upaccording to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen."

Exposed by the lamplight.

The wonderful couple I am staying with in Pretoria experienced a tragic accident in their family. Their daughter-in-law's parents were on a tandem bicycle and were hit by a car. Her father sustained many painful, but not critical injuries. Her mother, however, sustained a serious head injury. When I arrived only a few days after the accident she had not regained consciousness. I joined my prayers with the prayers of the family. As each day passed, hope shrunk.
Sunday I sat by the pool reading Zephaniah. Zephaniah isn't a book I read often, but that's why I opened to it. I realized it'd been to long. As I read, one verse dug itself into my mind and heart.

Zephaniah 1: 12

At that time I will search Jerusalem with lamps, and I will punish the men who are complacent, those who say in their hearts, "The LORD will not do good, nor will he do ill."

I realized I had been praying fervently, but the moment I said amen the condition of my heart echoed that of the men Zephaniah wrote about. I left it not in the hands of God, but in the hands of nature. My subconscious betrayed my true experience of life and prayer. I bowed my head and asked for forgiveness for my lack of belief in God's active role in His creations' lives. I prayed again until I felt peace through the Spirit. God seemed to say to my heart, "Now watch and see my good work."

The next day at dinner I sat with my host couple chatting. The phone rang. It was their son with the news that his wife's mother had opened her eyes and was slowly gaining consciousness. I smiled as I watched the joy explode in the room. I couldn't help but to chuckle to myself. I love how God uses all type of circumstance even if it's not directly related to me to increase my faith and trust in Him. As I thanked Him in silent prayer He spoke once more to my Spirit, "And if I had told you after your prayer yesterday that I was going to take her ("do ill"), would you still praise me in that situation?" He once again confronted my feeble faith in Him and acceptance of His holiness.

I sat without an answer, but I pray in time He will teach me even this difficult lesson. How far and at what cost are you and I willing to trust him? I pray Christ grows inside my heart to fill it, that I will ever be willing to take the next step, a step where I continue to understand how to shoulder my cross for His glory. When He searches my heart with a lamp I want Him to find Jesus. 

Crossing Over

Today I visited the Pretoria Art Museum. The currently have an exhibition of art created by the students from the university. I thoroughly enjoyed absorbing the creativity and messages the students displayed in their work. Two projects struct my interest more than all the rest. Neither of these two exhibits made me oooo and ahhhh as a few of the others did, however, I stood paralyzed by the messages.

First, a beautiful pencil drawing of a black family. The clothing they wore and the room they sat in appeared colonial in style. In the foreground of the picture a large pair of black boots lay unused. The faces of the woman and the children looked full of grief. In a chair just behind the boots an outline of a man without a face or any distinguishable features caught my gaze.

The title of the picture - He's here, Isn't he?

This picture reinforced the importance of the father figure in a family. The family can't be whole, complete, or healthy without him being there. As I looked at the artwork, I sent up a prayer for all our young men at Eden. I pray they will grow into strong men who will be present and lead their future families in Christ.

Second, I saw an exhibit called Threshold. There was a stone pillar and threshold between two different floors. On one side the wood was dark brown, almost black. On the other side the wood was white with just a few dark brown boards scattered among the white boards. As I observed the art, God used it to speak to my heart. He likened the threshold to crossing racial and cultural borders. As I stared at the floor, He broke my heart anew for the people I am working with in Zimbabwe. I was reminded of so many of my lectures and conversations in University. Incarnational ministry, that's Christ's model for us. I pray that I can be a good example of the perfect model as I continually attempt to leave my world and enter theirs, so that on that Day we can cross the threshold of Jesus' Kingdom together. 

Give me the Cookie!

The other day I was traveling from Thohoyandou, SA to Pretoria, SA. The buses were on strike, so I took the trip on a "taxi," which actually was just a privately owned bus. I have been in Africa for a year and a half now and in general am accustomed to traveling and interacting with people along the way. I was the only white face in the taxi. This led to the stares of many dark brown eyes as I took my seat for the journey. I seldom notice the color difference between my skin and those of the Africa people around me, however, the eyes transfixed on my skin made me take notice on this day. I determined to be extra friendly to the people I was riding with to hopefully help them relax in spite of the murungu, makuha, the white girl.
After about 5 hours on the bus, I stood to stretch at one of our many stops. I had happily shared my bag of crisps with the gentleman seated next to me and now decided to share my chocolate cookies with the young woman just across the isle. I continue to observe the African people's generous nature in sharing the blessings in their lives. I wanted to follow suit. I smiled and greeted her and she returned the greeting. Then, I stretched out my hand with the package of cookies and said, "Would you like one?" She nodded, took the whole package from me, packed it away in her bag, and turned back to look at me before beginning a conversation with the woman in front of her.
I was quite surprised. The truth was I was hungry and wanted my cookies. The truth was I was upset with how little she seemed to care about my act of generosity. The truth was she should have had better manners than to take the entire package!

...

The truth is it takes 5 seconds for the attitude of my heart to sour. 5 seconds for my resolve to love like Christ to vanish - over cookies. Sometimes I feel horrified about how my fallen nature can take over in an instant.
I sat back in my seat and prayed for a "moyo murefu" (long heart). The reality of the situation, my heart is more important than my cookies. 

Soccer

       A snicker, an amused smile, another pathetic attempt to pass. To learn the game requires not taking oneself to seriously. Every fumbled opportunity inspires growth. Often it’s in the laughing and the joy that relationships springs up, not in the fantastic bicycle kick to win the match. Standing there doubled over with amusement one sees the embarrassment of the mistake as insipid compared to the new love for one’s friends.

Kick, slip, crash another missed goal. To learn the game means embracing pain. It seems that one always chokes at that critical moment right before a goal, basket, touchdown, a moment of advancing toward victory. Then, laying there on the flat of the back one realizes the missed goal’s importance pales in comparison to the decision that now arises. What next? That’s the real moment of truth in that moment whether one chooses to get up, run faster, try harder, and leave the shame of the fall behind. 

A cross, a leap, a perfect header to the back of the net. To learn the game demands dedication. After the score is tallied it’s back to position with all the passion of the first minute of play. The goal grows dim in the vastness of the challenge. One’s team, not oneself dictates each move. Alone the game cannot continue. 

Life in the Kingdom, like soccer, follows this pattern. Open up your heart to  learn and grow. Embrace the struggles to develop endurance. Give yourself fully to the Kingdom and its’ people and work together. 

A few of the kids I play with regularly holding the dog (Flash) who seems to have adopted me as "her person"