In Swaziland, the widows & orphans are the majority of the population, and get talked about the most. But God has brought me into contact with two men named Joseph that He is using here in Swaziland. The first is Ntombi’s father (read about her story here), whom I first met two years ago. He is a hard-working farmer who cares for his adult daughter with disabilities. He has built his homestead on the lower part of the mountain, overlooking miles of valleys. Baboons have stolen the corn out of his fields, but it is evident within a few minutes of being on their homestead that he is working hard to provide for his family. He has built silos for his corn, has several animals on the property, including donkeys, goats, chickens, and pigs. When I saw him again this fall (after two years since last seeing him), he recognized me & thanked us for coming again to check on his daughter.
The other Joseph has had an equally hard time in life, wishing he could change his circumstances. As we were driving to see him today, asking if this was his homestead, one of the ministry partners said, “he doesn’t have a homestead, just this house here.” We pulled up in front of a stick & mud hut with a corrugated metal roof. The huts are made of sticks, with mud on it to fill in the gaps. As we were talking, the door to the hut was open & I realized that I could see in the hut & right out the back because there were so many holes where the rain had washed the mud away. The hut, where this Joseph & his son live, was about 10 feet by 10 feet square. This man brought out 3 buckets for the men to sit on while we visited & a piece of metal leaning up against the hut caught my eye. Upon further inspection, this 5 foot piece of corrugated metal had been leaned up against the hut so that they could cook outside with wind protection. Joseph had been a single father for most of his son’s life, since his wife passed away. He had fled from Mozambique during the war, settling in Swaziland. He worked for a couple of companies until an accident at work left him with a debilitating head injury. Since then, he and his son have survived day to day trusting in the Lord’s provision.
These Josephs struck my heart, because like so many other Swazis, they are living faithfully day by day in the midst of hard circumstances. It reminds me of Joseph, in Genesis, who lived faithfully day by day as a servant, in prison, and in power in Egypt, trusting in God’s sovereignty over his circumstances. I don’t know if either Swaziland Joseph’s life will get any easier, but I can say with confidence (and I’m sure that they would agree), that though this world has brought many evils into their lives, “God meant it for good” and will bring His glory to shine even in the hardest of circumstances.
one glimpse into how God is at work in and around the world...
Showing posts with label Suffering. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Suffering. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Ntombi: A Girl
On our way home this afternoon, I asked what Ntombi’s name meant because I am intrigued by the meanings of so many words & names here in Swaziland. The answer was “a girl”. A simple name that just means “a girl” but Ntombi was more than a girl to me & she is precious in the eyes of God.
The first time I met Ntombi was two years ago, when I thought she was a young boy. She didn’t have great fine motor skills, she couldn’t talk very well, and she was very dirty. She had come to see a visiting doctor at the carepoint because of a wound on her foot. We invited her to eat with the kids at the carepoint, and she had trouble holding the spoon to eat. We took her home that day (she was ELATED to ride in a car) to see if there were ways we could help further. What we found out was that Ntombi wasn’t a young boy, but rather a 48 year old woman. She was healthy her whole life up until around 1996, when something happened to make her the way she is now (almost like she had a stroke, but it affects both sides of her body). The wound on her foot was from when she accidentally stepped in the fire, around 1996...and it still wasn’t healed in 2009.
For the past two years, God has kept Ntombi (and her hard working father, Joseph, and her two children) on my heart. He has given me dreams about her & revealed specific ways for me to be praying.
Today we had extra time at the carepoint by her house, so I asked if we could stop by to see her. I was preparing myself for anything - her to be in worse shape, her to have passed away, her to be totally healed...but what I hadn’t prepared myself for was that she would be about the same. When we walked up to the homestead, her daughter went inside to get Joseph. I was looking around the homestead when I heard her say “Yebo, sisi”. I hadn’t seen her sitting in the shade of one of the buildings, on a mat, and I hadn’t ever heard her speak so clearly. When I went to shake her hand, she didn’t let go of mine, and when I asked if she remembered me she said that my face was not new to her.
We sat and talked with she & her father for a while, but the thing that kept getting me was her foot. It still hadn’t healed from two years ago. Then it was about the size of a quarter, and fairly superficial, but today there were two wounds, about the size of a tennis ball, indenting so far into her swollen foot that her toes were now deformed. Flies were in and around the wounds and I couldn’t help but wonder how she hadn’t already died from infection.
We offered to bring her down to the clinic & her father said yes, but she needed to change first. She went and changed into one of the nicest dresses I’ve seen in Swaziland (something my mom would have worn for Easter about 1988) and then was ready to go. Her father had built her a crutch out of a branch, but she wouldn’t be able to walk to the car. I drove it up their “driveway” and then Celimphilo carried her to the car.
When we got to the clinic, the nurse was asking about the wound and when I told him it was more than 15 years old, he didn’t question it at all. He was able to clean her foot & bandage it up, as well as give us enough supplies for her to keep cleaning & bandaging it over the next several weeks.
I can’t help but wonder at the rest of the story - how she ended up this way, why she hasn’t been able to keep the wound clean, what she was like before, how this illness has affected her relationships with her children & her father. It’s one of those times when I look forward to heaven, where she and I can sit down over coffee and speak the same language, without mental disability and catch up on all the Lord has done in her life. But for now I will trust that God knows her heart & her every need & has kept her on my heart & in my prayers for a reason.
The first time I met Ntombi was two years ago, when I thought she was a young boy. She didn’t have great fine motor skills, she couldn’t talk very well, and she was very dirty. She had come to see a visiting doctor at the carepoint because of a wound on her foot. We invited her to eat with the kids at the carepoint, and she had trouble holding the spoon to eat. We took her home that day (she was ELATED to ride in a car) to see if there were ways we could help further. What we found out was that Ntombi wasn’t a young boy, but rather a 48 year old woman. She was healthy her whole life up until around 1996, when something happened to make her the way she is now (almost like she had a stroke, but it affects both sides of her body). The wound on her foot was from when she accidentally stepped in the fire, around 1996...and it still wasn’t healed in 2009.
For the past two years, God has kept Ntombi (and her hard working father, Joseph, and her two children) on my heart. He has given me dreams about her & revealed specific ways for me to be praying.
Today we had extra time at the carepoint by her house, so I asked if we could stop by to see her. I was preparing myself for anything - her to be in worse shape, her to have passed away, her to be totally healed...but what I hadn’t prepared myself for was that she would be about the same. When we walked up to the homestead, her daughter went inside to get Joseph. I was looking around the homestead when I heard her say “Yebo, sisi”. I hadn’t seen her sitting in the shade of one of the buildings, on a mat, and I hadn’t ever heard her speak so clearly. When I went to shake her hand, she didn’t let go of mine, and when I asked if she remembered me she said that my face was not new to her.
We sat and talked with she & her father for a while, but the thing that kept getting me was her foot. It still hadn’t healed from two years ago. Then it was about the size of a quarter, and fairly superficial, but today there were two wounds, about the size of a tennis ball, indenting so far into her swollen foot that her toes were now deformed. Flies were in and around the wounds and I couldn’t help but wonder how she hadn’t already died from infection.
We offered to bring her down to the clinic & her father said yes, but she needed to change first. She went and changed into one of the nicest dresses I’ve seen in Swaziland (something my mom would have worn for Easter about 1988) and then was ready to go. Her father had built her a crutch out of a branch, but she wouldn’t be able to walk to the car. I drove it up their “driveway” and then Celimphilo carried her to the car.
When we got to the clinic, the nurse was asking about the wound and when I told him it was more than 15 years old, he didn’t question it at all. He was able to clean her foot & bandage it up, as well as give us enough supplies for her to keep cleaning & bandaging it over the next several weeks.
I can’t help but wonder at the rest of the story - how she ended up this way, why she hasn’t been able to keep the wound clean, what she was like before, how this illness has affected her relationships with her children & her father. It’s one of those times when I look forward to heaven, where she and I can sit down over coffee and speak the same language, without mental disability and catch up on all the Lord has done in her life. But for now I will trust that God knows her heart & her every need & has kept her on my heart & in my prayers for a reason.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Born: Alive Male
That’s what the papers said when she & her baby were being discharged from the hospital on Thursday. Most important thing first - alive, and secondary to that, "it's a boy!" It struck me as odd at first, but with all of the poverty issues in rural Swaziland, I don’t even want to imagine how many babies are stillborn. I continued to read through the paperwork as the hospital administrator calculated the costs for this new mom, who had spent one night in the hospital. I was wondering if they would charge more since a white person was there to pick her up, and I was thinking about friends of mine who have recently had babies in the US and how many thousands of dollars that had cost. I knew that it probably wasn’t going to cost over 100 Rand (about 13 US Dollars), but was completely shocked when the administrator told me it would be 30 Rand (just over 4 US Dollars). Granted, she did have to pay the admittance fee the day before (about $2) and we were stopping by the pharmacy next to get a few types of pills for her to take (about $.50 worth)...which still only brings us up to a total of about $6.50 for this woman to deliver her baby in a hospital and stay the night! We got all of the pills, picked up her bag, and found she and her brand new baby boy (wrapped in the towel/diaper & blanket she brought with her from home). As she got in the back seat of my car, holding her newborn baby, I buckled my seatbelt (which seemed wrong if a newborn wasn’t going to be in a car seat!), and reflected back on how I had gotten to be in this situation.
On Tuesday morning, a couple of ministry partners & I were going up to the carepoint to give the teacher her lessons for the week. As we pulled into through the gate, we could see this young pregnant woman laying on her side in the shade. She was laying on a woven grass mat in the dirt, up against the corrugated tin sided cooking shelter. She looked uncomfortable, obviously towards the end of her pregnancy. As we asked questions, we found out that she is 26 years old and this would be her fourth child. Leaving the carepoint later that morning, we wished her well during these last weeks of pregnancy.
The next morning, we got word that she had gone into labor during the night & wanted to go to the hospital to deliver. As we went to pick her up, I followed a rough dirt road until it wasn’t really a road anymore, but just well-worn foot paths. I turned into the gate of her property, and saw in front of me a humble (to say the least) homestead. Her house was made of mud and sticks and about 10 feet by 10 feet, and not quite tall enough for me to stand up straight in. On the left side of it, was an outdoor cooking structure. We drove up closer to her house, and there were about 4 or 5 women around, some sitting, some working. As they were getting her up off the bed, we asked if she had money for the hospital, and the neighbor lady replied that she had enough to take care of it. This 26 year old woman had lost both of her parents, and the baby’s father wasn’t taking care of her, but her neighbor was.
We pulled away from her homestead, trying to go slowly enough that the bumpy dirt road wouldn’t bother her, but her moaning continued. I decided that I could multitask & started timing her contractions (based on her moans) while driving down the dirt road. From what I could tell, they were about 3 minutes apart, which led me to start thinking of how we could deliver a baby on the side of the road using only what I had in the car!
Thankfully, we made it to the paved road and then were able to drive to the hospital about 45 minutes from her homestead. We got her into the matenity (yep, that’s how they spell it) ward, and her son was born less than 45 minutes later!
They admitted her for the night, so first thing the next morning, we went back to pick her up & take her home. She had named her son Lindane, which means “taken care of”. Thankfully that’s how he entered this world - taken care of by his mother, who was taken care of by her neighbor. And God willing, that’s how he will continue to live and grow in a nation which seems to have been abandoned, he will be a reminder that God has and will bring people alongside of he & his mom to take care of him.
On Tuesday morning, a couple of ministry partners & I were going up to the carepoint to give the teacher her lessons for the week. As we pulled into through the gate, we could see this young pregnant woman laying on her side in the shade. She was laying on a woven grass mat in the dirt, up against the corrugated tin sided cooking shelter. She looked uncomfortable, obviously towards the end of her pregnancy. As we asked questions, we found out that she is 26 years old and this would be her fourth child. Leaving the carepoint later that morning, we wished her well during these last weeks of pregnancy.
The next morning, we got word that she had gone into labor during the night & wanted to go to the hospital to deliver. As we went to pick her up, I followed a rough dirt road until it wasn’t really a road anymore, but just well-worn foot paths. I turned into the gate of her property, and saw in front of me a humble (to say the least) homestead. Her house was made of mud and sticks and about 10 feet by 10 feet, and not quite tall enough for me to stand up straight in. On the left side of it, was an outdoor cooking structure. We drove up closer to her house, and there were about 4 or 5 women around, some sitting, some working. As they were getting her up off the bed, we asked if she had money for the hospital, and the neighbor lady replied that she had enough to take care of it. This 26 year old woman had lost both of her parents, and the baby’s father wasn’t taking care of her, but her neighbor was.
We pulled away from her homestead, trying to go slowly enough that the bumpy dirt road wouldn’t bother her, but her moaning continued. I decided that I could multitask & started timing her contractions (based on her moans) while driving down the dirt road. From what I could tell, they were about 3 minutes apart, which led me to start thinking of how we could deliver a baby on the side of the road using only what I had in the car!
Thankfully, we made it to the paved road and then were able to drive to the hospital about 45 minutes from her homestead. We got her into the matenity (yep, that’s how they spell it) ward, and her son was born less than 45 minutes later!
They admitted her for the night, so first thing the next morning, we went back to pick her up & take her home. She had named her son Lindane, which means “taken care of”. Thankfully that’s how he entered this world - taken care of by his mother, who was taken care of by her neighbor. And God willing, that’s how he will continue to live and grow in a nation which seems to have been abandoned, he will be a reminder that God has and will bring people alongside of he & his mom to take care of him.
Monday, September 26, 2011
When I'm 64...
If I remember right, there is a line in that Beatles’ song that says, “Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m 64?” For some reason that is the song that has come to mind for the last few days as I have gone over to visit Gogo (Grandma) Lily. Gogo Lily is one of my closest neighbors here in Swaziland and had a stroke this summer. Because there isn’t health care here, to provide nursing care, physical therapy, etc. she is left totally dependent on her family on her homestead and whomever else God will provide to take care of her. She has not been able to walk on her own since the stroke, and so she spends most of the days in bed or sitting on the floor by her bed. God has provided for her in a huge way, in the fact that this past month one of the visiting team members from the US was a occupational therapist, who had worked in geriatrics. While she was here for 3 weeks, she was able to find a walker in the community that wasn’t being used. She brought that to Gogo Lily’s every day and started working with her to get her walking again. Gogo Lily has slowly regained her balance and strength, where she could go from one side of the room to the other with the walker, and we have now progressed to where she can go up and down the outside step to her house.
As she continues to progress in her walking, it is great to see how valuable she is to her family still. Her 1 year old granddaughter still naps on a mat in her house, and many of the grandchildren come in and out all day long.
It is hard for me to imagine being in Gogo Lily’s place, totally dependent on the people around me and strangers from around the world to care for me and help me to walk again. But because God is in the equation, yes, Gogo Lily, we still need you and we will still feed you...when you’re 64 (or older)!
As she continues to progress in her walking, it is great to see how valuable she is to her family still. Her 1 year old granddaughter still naps on a mat in her house, and many of the grandchildren come in and out all day long.
It is hard for me to imagine being in Gogo Lily’s place, totally dependent on the people around me and strangers from around the world to care for me and help me to walk again. But because God is in the equation, yes, Gogo Lily, we still need you and we will still feed you...when you’re 64 (or older)!
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Reality Check...Another Look At Swaziland Statistics
I recently read that if you are a 15 year old in Swaziland, your chances of living to the age of 32 are 6%! SIX PERCENT!!! Translated...that means your chances of dying before you turn 32 are 94%. You are probably more likely to be struck by lightning or attacked by a hippo than live to be 32 if you live in Swaziland...all because of the AIDS crisis. Of the 900,000 people in the country, the orphan population is closing in on 200,000. And half of all 20 somethings have AIDS already. But the one that hits me hardest is the first statistic....6 %!
To put this into p
erspective, there are about 300 kids at the school across from where I will be staying. We have just been given permission to go over each week to teach these elementary aged kids about God's love...but reality is still there. According to that first statistic, only about 18 of those kids will live to be 32...meaning that 282 of the kids I will be spending time with this fall will probably die of AIDS (or some disease like TB resulting from a weakened immune system) before they are my age! God, have mercy!
So what has God called us to do in this seemingly hopeless situation? Without wanting to be too morbid or a Debbie-downer, the thing that I keep coming back to is that we must prepare them for eternity. Yes, we can encourage them in school, help them set goals, encourage them to dream about their future, provide them with food, clothes, and school supplies...but we must balance that with the reality that some experts have said that with the current birth/death rates the way they are, Swaziland won't exist by 2050 because AIDS will have ravaged it beyond repair. And James' words come ringing true to my ears....
And for children in Swaziland, this verse describes the frailty of life all around them, that they will be looking at death and eternity all too soon.
So as I go this weekend...prepared to love on the kids and the gogos ("grandmas" that cook, teach, and care for the kids at the carepoints), as well as those I will meet through house visits and other projects...in the back of my mind I will be thinking about the best gift that I can give them...the gift of the Gospel that we have been entrusted with. As much as I anticipate seeing their joyful faces when they receive any material possessions or food, the look on their faces when they realize they can have eternal peace and be with the Lord beyond this world is beyond description. To look in the face of a 28 year old woman who has "the peace that passes understanding" as she prepares for her death, to sit with a grieving gogo as she realizes her new responsibility of parenting her orphaned grandchildren...the only thing that can get anyone through those times is trusting in the sovereignty of God and the eternal hope that we have in Christ.
As I go, I hope to be used by God to pour into them, pray for them, teach them, and encourage them as if they were a terminally ill child in the hospital...because they are...statistics have given them only 25 more years to live at most. Yet I go hopeful, because as we trust in what Christ did for us on the cross, we can cling to the promise that
To put this into p
erspective, there are about 300 kids at the school across from where I will be staying. We have just been given permission to go over each week to teach these elementary aged kids about God's love...but reality is still there. According to that first statistic, only about 18 of those kids will live to be 32...meaning that 282 of the kids I will be spending time with this fall will probably die of AIDS (or some disease like TB resulting from a weakened immune system) before they are my age! God, have mercy!So what has God called us to do in this seemingly hopeless situation? Without wanting to be too morbid or a Debbie-downer, the thing that I keep coming back to is that we must prepare them for eternity. Yes, we can encourage them in school, help them set goals, encourage them to dream about their future, provide them with food, clothes, and school supplies...but we must balance that with the reality that some experts have said that with the current birth/death rates the way they are, Swaziland won't exist by 2050 because AIDS will have ravaged it beyond repair. And James' words come ringing true to my ears....
"What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes"
(James 4:14).
(James 4:14).
So as I go this weekend...prepared to love on the kids and the gogos ("grandmas" that cook, teach, and care for the kids at the carepoints), as well as those I will meet through house visits and other projects...in the back of my mind I will be thinking about the best gift that I can give them...the gift of the Gospel that we have been entrusted with. As much as I anticipate seeing their joyful faces when they receive any material possessions or food, the look on their faces when they realize they can have eternal peace and be with the Lord beyond this world is beyond description. To look in the face of a 28 year old woman who has "the peace that passes understanding" as she prepares for her death, to sit with a grieving gogo as she realizes her new responsibility of parenting her orphaned grandchildren...the only thing that can get anyone through those times is trusting in the sovereignty of God and the eternal hope that we have in Christ.
As I go, I hope to be used by God to pour into them, pray for them, teach them, and encourage them as if they were a terminally ill child in the hospital...because they are...statistics have given them only 25 more years to live at most. Yet I go hopeful, because as we trust in what Christ did for us on the cross, we can cling to the promise that
"the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be His people, and God Himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away...for He is making all things new."
(Revelation 21:3-5)
This world is temporary because we were created for another world with unhindered intimacy with the God of the universe...and we can begin to live in that now!(Revelation 21:3-5)
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
World AIDS Day
Today is World AIDS Day, and if you're like me, you sometimes are numbed by the statistics and overlook the fact that individual lives are devastated daily by this horrible disease. Here is a great video that shows a realistic picture of what it looks like to live and die from AIDS in Swaziland.
And here is a woman who died from AIDS while I was in Swaziland...ironically, her (now) 2 year old orphaned son's name means HOPE.
And here is a woman who died from AIDS while I was in Swaziland...ironically, her (now) 2 year old orphaned son's name means HOPE.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Suffering: A Means Of Grace In The Hands Of God
"Even suffering is a means of grace in the hands of God. In Judges 3:1-2 God leaves other nations in the promised land 'to teach war' to his people. As each generation confronted hostile armies, it was faced with the need to trust God for itself. Adversity tests, strengthens, and personalizes faith. SInful desires can lurk in our hearts unnoticed because those desires are neither threatened nor thwarted. But suffering stirs the calm waters of latent sinful desires. It reveals the true state of our hearts. It's God's diagnostic tool, preparing the way for the medicine of gospel truth. Deuteronomy 8:2 says, 'You shall remember the whole way that the Lord your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness, that he might humble you, testing you to know what was in your heart.' Horatius Bonar comments:
'The trial did not create the evil: it merely brought out what was there already, unnoticed and unfelt, like a torpid adder. Then the heart's deep fountains were broken up, and streams of pollution came rushing out, black as Hell...Even so it is with the saints still. God chastens them that He may draw forth the evil that is lying concealed and unsuspected within...When calamity breaks over them like a tempest, then the hidden evils of their heart awakens.'
So suffering always presents us with a choice.
We can get frustrated, angry, bitter, or despondent as our desire for control, success, love, or health gets threatened. Or we can take hold of God in a new way, finding our joy in him and comfort in his promises."
'The trial did not create the evil: it merely brought out what was there already, unnoticed and unfelt, like a torpid adder. Then the heart's deep fountains were broken up, and streams of pollution came rushing out, black as Hell...Even so it is with the saints still. God chastens them that He may draw forth the evil that is lying concealed and unsuspected within...When calamity breaks over them like a tempest, then the hidden evils of their heart awakens.'
So suffering always presents us with a choice.
We can get frustrated, angry, bitter, or despondent as our desire for control, success, love, or health gets threatened. Or we can take hold of God in a new way, finding our joy in him and comfort in his promises."
From You Can Change by Tim Chester
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
A Matter Of Perspective
It seems as though my mail increases this time of year with all of the holiday specials and sales. I have random advertisements stuck to my door, encouraging me to buy one thing or another for someone as a Christmas gift. The other night a salesman came to my door, offering me a great deal on cable and internet. When I told him that I don't have cable or use internet at my house, he looked at me with such shock that you would have thought I told him I have a giraffe in my condo. He continued his sales pitch, encouraging me to buy the package deal so that I have something to do when it's snowing outside. He ended his speech with a question that has still been haunting me over the last few days...he said "it's only $50...what else are you going to do with $50"?
Well, as I closed my door, my mind started wandering...thinking of all of the people who I know that would do anything for $50 a month!
The next time the cell phone salesperson asks you if you want to upgrade your phone for $20 more, take a minute to think about what you need instead of what you want, and about how God could multiply your $20 for His glory and people's joy! The next time you get a cup of coffee, get a size smaller and start collecting the extra 50 cents in a jar - knowing that you can donate it to provide 2 meals for kids!
As we enter into the most materialistic season of the year, in one of the richest countries in the richest times in history, may God protect us from the lies of the culture & the enemy, and give us a new perspective on our money, and give us discernment about how we should spend it.
Well, as I closed my door, my mind started wandering...thinking of all of the people who I know that would do anything for $50 a month!
- I thought of several missionary friends of mine who live off of $1000 a month - and a commitment of $50 a month would add up to $600 for them over the year (which doesn't seem much to us, but when you live off so little or in a foreign country, it will go a long way).
- I thought of a ministry I have worked with that can get meals to kids at a cost of 25 cents a meal...which would mean that $50 a month would provide 200 meals to kids whose parents can't afford to feed them.
- I thought of the many child sponsorship programs around the world where you can contribute to a child's physical, spiritual & educational well-being for around $30 a month (the 'community center' here provides a meal for dozens of kids each day in Swaziland, who otherwise wouldn't get food every day).
- I thought of so many parents I have met around the world who work endlessly to provide for their families, yet still
don't have enough money to buy their children shoes so that they can go to school...imagine what a one time gift of $50 dollars could do (the house in this picture is where the teacher - one of the few working men in the village in Haiti - lives with his wife and their 9 children)!
The next time the cell phone salesperson asks you if you want to upgrade your phone for $20 more, take a minute to think about what you need instead of what you want, and about how God could multiply your $20 for His glory and people's joy! The next time you get a cup of coffee, get a size smaller and start collecting the extra 50 cents in a jar - knowing that you can donate it to provide 2 meals for kids!
As we enter into the most materialistic season of the year, in one of the richest countries in the richest times in history, may God protect us from the lies of the culture & the enemy, and give us a new perspective on our money, and give us discernment about how we should spend it.
"...your abundance at the present time should supply their need, so that their abundance may supply your need, that there may be fairness." (2 Corinthians 8:14)
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Forgotten People
Recently, I was blessed to be able to spend some time in Juarez with some very special kids at an orphanage. These kids, who have been abandoned by their families, are living very tough lives in a city that is known for it's violence and evil. The atrocities that are happening in this town are at times hard to comprehend, and so often when we can't comprehend something, we ignore it. Or we hear the statistics so often that we become too familiar with them and can become numb to them. But as I spent time with these forgotten kids, I was convicted.
Convicted because one of the comments I heard from several people in Juarez was that they felt like the church just over the border in the US had become so numb to the deadly statistics that they just forgot about their brothers and sisters who were suffering just miles from where they are living in comfort and safety.
And I am among the guilty! Juarez isn't that far from where I am, yet I haven't even consistently prayed for what is going on there. I confess that I am not prompted to pray enough - even as I read more stories on the killings in Juarez or hear another story on the news.
Not only was I convicted about Juarez, but it also spurred me on to ask what my Juarez is here in Denver. Who are the people who are suffering that I am often overlooking? Who are the people who are suffering that I have become numb to as I hear their stories?
Lord, let me be more like the Samaritan who has compassionate eyes to see those in need, and less like the man who asked "Who is my neighbor?" as he tried to avoid the messiness and danger of getting involved in serving those in need.
Convicted because one of the comments I heard from several people in Juarez was that they felt like the church just over the border in the US had become so numb to the deadly statistics that they just forgot about their brothers and sisters who were suffering just miles from where they are living in comfort and safety.And I am among the guilty! Juarez isn't that far from where I am, yet I haven't even consistently prayed for what is going on there. I confess that I am not prompted to pray enough - even as I read more stories on the killings in Juarez or hear another story on the news.
Not only was I convicted about Juarez, but it also spurred me on to ask what my Juarez is here in Denver. Who are the people who are suffering that I am often overlooking? Who are the people who are suffering that I have become numb to as I hear their stories?
Lord, let me be more like the Samaritan who has compassionate eyes to see those in need, and less like the man who asked "Who is my neighbor?" as he tried to avoid the messiness and danger of getting involved in serving those in need.
Friday, October 1, 2010
A Hard Walk Down A Dusty Road
I write this hesitantly because one of the things I hate about blogs, blogging, bloggers, etc. is that they/we often put things out there that are not our stories to tell. But I am going to go ahead and post this story of one of our home visits in Swaziland for 3 reasons: 1. It is one example of what I've seen now in so many situations...it could be one of many kids in Swaziland or around the world, there's nothing unique about this story, just that it's fresh on my mind. 2. It is a story that needs to be told to a numb, apathetic, affluent, American Christian - to bring reality to life. 3. It is a story that I (as a numb, apathetic, affluent, American Christian) am apt to forget as I leave this culture where poverty is all around me and I head back to my comfortable life...and I don't want to forget it or be numb!
We walked with the boy for several minutes before he pointed and said his homestead was right there. The road we were on was so dusty, and the air so still, that we would all turn away for several minutes until the dust settled when a truck went by. We walked through the opening in the stick and thornbush fence as several cattle lay near by and chickens ran about. The boy ran and got a grass-woven mat and a chair, and brought them over to spread out under the tree several yards from the house. The homestead consisted of a few buildings - a loose stick hut that served as a kitche
n, two concrete buildings (about 8 x 10 feet) that were where the adults slept, and a mud & stick hut with a thatched roof where several children slept. The thatched roof had several places where it had fallen apart, leaving it with several holes that were over 6 inches in diameter.
As we women maneuvered to take our shoes off before stepping on the mat to sit down on the ground, the men sat on the chairs, and the boy ran to the field to get his gogo (grandmother). She quickly and quietly came back, followed closely by a 4 year old girl wearing only a sun bleached piece of fabric wrapped around her like a skirt.
When we shared with the woman and talked, she told about how we could pray for her. She shared her health struggles - mostly common ailments of a hard life of a poverty-stricken, hungry, water deprived person in a third world country - sore feet, legs, headache, backache. She couldn't have been over 60, yet her eyes looked much older because of her experiences, and she was still taking care of so many others!
Before we laid hands on her to pray, she had her grandson fetch a coat so she could cover herself as we prayed. I held her hand - weathered by years of hard work outside & caked with dirt in every possible crack. After we prayed with her, we blessed her with a gift of a bag of food and supplies. She sat quietly as we laid out the corn meal, sardines, soap, candles, sugar, tea, matches, beans, and oil. What would cost about $30, and last us Americans less than a week would last this woman and her entire family from two weeks to a month...and she wiped away tears at this gift from strangers.
As we walked along the road back toward where we had come from, "Siyabonga kakuhlu" was what she repeated - "Thank you so much!" And we told her the same thing we had been teaching the children all day...we love because He first loved us.
We walked with the boy for several minutes before he pointed and said his homestead was right there. The road we were on was so dusty, and the air so still, that we would all turn away for several minutes until the dust settled when a truck went by. We walked through the opening in the stick and thornbush fence as several cattle lay near by and chickens ran about. The boy ran and got a grass-woven mat and a chair, and brought them over to spread out under the tree several yards from the house. The homestead consisted of a few buildings - a loose stick hut that served as a kitche
n, two concrete buildings (about 8 x 10 feet) that were where the adults slept, and a mud & stick hut with a thatched roof where several children slept. The thatched roof had several places where it had fallen apart, leaving it with several holes that were over 6 inches in diameter.As we women maneuvered to take our shoes off before stepping on the mat to sit down on the ground, the men sat on the chairs, and the boy ran to the field to get his gogo (grandmother). She quickly and quietly came back, followed closely by a 4 year old girl wearing only a sun bleached piece of fabric wrapped around her like a skirt.
When we shared with the woman and talked, she told about how we could pray for her. She shared her health struggles - mostly common ailments of a hard life of a poverty-stricken, hungry, water deprived person in a third world country - sore feet, legs, headache, backache. She couldn't have been over 60, yet her eyes looked much older because of her experiences, and she was still taking care of so many others!
Before we laid hands on her to pray, she had her grandson fetch a coat so she could cover herself as we prayed. I held her hand - weathered by years of hard work outside & caked with dirt in every possible crack. After we prayed with her, we blessed her with a gift of a bag of food and supplies. She sat quietly as we laid out the corn meal, sardines, soap, candles, sugar, tea, matches, beans, and oil. What would cost about $30, and last us Americans less than a week would last this woman and her entire family from two weeks to a month...and she wiped away tears at this gift from strangers.
As we walked along the road back toward where we had come from, "Siyabonga kakuhlu" was what she repeated - "Thank you so much!" And we told her the same thing we had been teaching the children all day...we love because He first loved us.
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