Sunday. Your day.
Rise and Shine. That's exactly what I did and also went to church there.
Rise and Shine Ministries.
In a Zambian school room, blue, white, and worn, with all the windows open I had a unique and very initmate time to worship.
To my Father, from my journal:
"Many hours with little English and I knew no other time I've spent in church in Zambia connected me more to your heart.
I've never held you or been able to touch you with my praises.
Today you saw me, she saw me.
A little lady no more than four.
As she entered the room, down the aisle she went.
She saw me and continued to her pew, stumbling in awe backwards down the row.
She couldn't take her eyes off me.
Little by little, she inched closer, hoping that I didn't notice.
Maybe she could touch me without catching my eye.
And she did.
A little hand on my leg, a tiny face straing up at me.
I didn't hesitate to find out if she wanted to be held, I just picked her up.
I've missed out on so much by hesitation.
Halleluia is the same in every language. And I sang.
Halleluia.
Her little cheek pressed hard against mine.
Halleluia.
Her eyelashes kissing my face.
Halleluia.
Her tiny fingers clasped in mine.
Halleluia.
You met me in worship. On a day that belongs to you. You saw me, were captivated by me, and were drawn to me. You rested in my arms while I sang to you.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
mosey
I have done absolutely less than nothing to deserve the gift I received today.
A note from Moses:
Dear Aunt Mary,
I love you and God loves you.
Whatever u do God loves you. What ever you need just cry to God or the Spirit and they will go to open the heavens.
I say thank you that you are alive.
I never stop praying to God. I am going to pray to you that when u are going back to your country. I want God to protect u.
God loves all. God bless all.
From Moses to my sister.
sweet boy.
A note from Moses:
Dear Aunt Mary,
I love you and God loves you.
Whatever u do God loves you. What ever you need just cry to God or the Spirit and they will go to open the heavens.
I say thank you that you are alive.
I never stop praying to God. I am going to pray to you that when u are going back to your country. I want God to protect u.
God loves all. God bless all.
From Moses to my sister.
sweet boy.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
idah
Lately we have not been doing very much as far as working or ministry goes...we have done a lot of creating things for ourselves to do.
This down time has been a little frustrating, but through it several very good things have happened. One of the best was seeing Idah. She was my Zambian partner from my time spent at Camp Life last summer. It's hard to describe what I felt when I saw her, but here is a try:
I can't explain what it was like to see Idah today. I think about it and I can't help but smile. She was so beautiful, my sister. The love that I have for her is so deep that I know it is from God. There is no way I could ever love someone that much with such little interaction between us.
I scanned the field of Camp Life groups with their little children huddled around them eating their bread for lunch. I had already passed her once, but wasn't looking for her yet and didn't see her. I was hoping I could recognize her from a distance out of all the Zambians around me. As I walked outside, I looked up. She was the very first face I saw and I knew.
Almost exactly when I spotted her turquoise bandana, she looked up and straight into my eyes. From a considerable distance, it caught me off guard. It was like she just knew I was there and that does not surprise me one bit about her.
When our eyes met it took all of a few seconds for her to assess the situation. She scanned my face. A look of disbelief was followed with a smile and she jumped up from the ground. I couldn't help it, I just started running. And she started running. We ran.
The best part of this meeting, I can't explain, but you would have to be me. You would have to see Idah through my eyes. I can't explain how she has changed, how beautiful she is. I can't describe the feeling that welled up in me when I saw her. Or how scared I was that she had changed so much in a year that I wouldn't recognize her. Even that I wouldn't remember her face. Hugging her was like hugging someone in my family that I hadn't seen in too long. Like the sister I've never had. Like being reunited with a life-long best friend. My Idah, how special.
Soon she will be taking me to see my girls and that will be another post enitrely.
This down time has been a little frustrating, but through it several very good things have happened. One of the best was seeing Idah. She was my Zambian partner from my time spent at Camp Life last summer. It's hard to describe what I felt when I saw her, but here is a try:
I can't explain what it was like to see Idah today. I think about it and I can't help but smile. She was so beautiful, my sister. The love that I have for her is so deep that I know it is from God. There is no way I could ever love someone that much with such little interaction between us.
I scanned the field of Camp Life groups with their little children huddled around them eating their bread for lunch. I had already passed her once, but wasn't looking for her yet and didn't see her. I was hoping I could recognize her from a distance out of all the Zambians around me. As I walked outside, I looked up. She was the very first face I saw and I knew.
Almost exactly when I spotted her turquoise bandana, she looked up and straight into my eyes. From a considerable distance, it caught me off guard. It was like she just knew I was there and that does not surprise me one bit about her.
When our eyes met it took all of a few seconds for her to assess the situation. She scanned my face. A look of disbelief was followed with a smile and she jumped up from the ground. I couldn't help it, I just started running. And she started running. We ran.
The best part of this meeting, I can't explain, but you would have to be me. You would have to see Idah through my eyes. I can't explain how she has changed, how beautiful she is. I can't describe the feeling that welled up in me when I saw her. Or how scared I was that she had changed so much in a year that I wouldn't recognize her. Even that I wouldn't remember her face. Hugging her was like hugging someone in my family that I hadn't seen in too long. Like the sister I've never had. Like being reunited with a life-long best friend. My Idah, how special.
Soon she will be taking me to see my girls and that will be another post enitrely.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
the throne
If you haven’t in a while, read Revelation chapter 7.
I read it almost every time I open the word. Mainly so that I don’t forget, especially while in Zambia, what I have to look forward to.
Through John’s eyes:
After this I looked and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. And they cried in a loud voice: “Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb”.
Then one of the elders asked me, “These in white robes—who are they, and where did they come from?”
I answered, “Sir, you know.”
“These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.
This scene is hard for me to imagine. The joy of this procession, the glory brought to heaven.
I cannot wait to see the great multitude in white robes. I cannot wait to be there and see my babies here in Zambia dancing around the throne wearing white. But more than anything, I will be watching their Father’s face while he takes in every moment.
And the best part:
They are before the throne of God
And serve him day and night in his temple;
And he who sits on the throne will spread a tent over them.
Never again will they hunger;
Never again will they thirst.
The sun will not beat down upon them,
Nor any scorching heat.
For the Lamb at the center of the throne
Will be their shepherd;
He will lead them to springs of living water.
And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.
These children are aching for the throne.
I'll be out of town for a week so there won't be any postings for a while.
We're traveling 8 hours to Livingstone to see one of the seven wonders of the world!
We're also going on a safari and visiting about 100 sponsored children and writing their updates.
I am so excited!
I read it almost every time I open the word. Mainly so that I don’t forget, especially while in Zambia, what I have to look forward to.
Through John’s eyes:
After this I looked and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. And they cried in a loud voice: “Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb”.
Then one of the elders asked me, “These in white robes—who are they, and where did they come from?”
I answered, “Sir, you know.”
“These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.
This scene is hard for me to imagine. The joy of this procession, the glory brought to heaven.
I cannot wait to see the great multitude in white robes. I cannot wait to be there and see my babies here in Zambia dancing around the throne wearing white. But more than anything, I will be watching their Father’s face while he takes in every moment.
And the best part:
They are before the throne of God
And serve him day and night in his temple;
And he who sits on the throne will spread a tent over them.
Never again will they hunger;
Never again will they thirst.
The sun will not beat down upon them,
Nor any scorching heat.
For the Lamb at the center of the throne
Will be their shepherd;
He will lead them to springs of living water.
And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.
These children are aching for the throne.
I'll be out of town for a week so there won't be any postings for a while.
We're traveling 8 hours to Livingstone to see one of the seven wonders of the world!
We're also going on a safari and visiting about 100 sponsored children and writing their updates.
I am so excited!
Saturday, June 27, 2009
abba
My favorite aspect of God’s identity is his role as Father. If you know me at all, then you can probably guess the reason for that. It’s my favorite because it is the name that he has revealed to me in the greatest depth and with the most intimacy. I will never know him better by any other name.
Abba- just the word, that holds all my identity and the only fatherhood I’ve ever known. That word comes to my lips and a longing, aching, satisfaction, comfort, joy, and desire fill my chest.
And as I am here and he sits in his holy dwelling, I am seeing him for just who he is: a father to the fatherless, defender of widows. Almost daily I wonder how much joy it brings him to see these orphans being loved, being touched, calling Him father. I hear them sing and think, Daddy how sweet is this fragrance that is rising up to heaven? How precious are these voices that you hear? They are at the center of his heart. They will inherit his kingdom. It is the greatest honor I will ever know to be here with them, to be among these sons and daughters of the King.
Abba- just the word, that holds all my identity and the only fatherhood I’ve ever known. That word comes to my lips and a longing, aching, satisfaction, comfort, joy, and desire fill my chest.
And as I am here and he sits in his holy dwelling, I am seeing him for just who he is: a father to the fatherless, defender of widows. Almost daily I wonder how much joy it brings him to see these orphans being loved, being touched, calling Him father. I hear them sing and think, Daddy how sweet is this fragrance that is rising up to heaven? How precious are these voices that you hear? They are at the center of his heart. They will inherit his kingdom. It is the greatest honor I will ever know to be here with them, to be among these sons and daughters of the King.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
rose
I had one of the most precious moments of my life today, some of the best memories that I will never forget.
Ever so subtly God has been teaching me a new sensitivity to his spirit, especially in ministry siutations. To see with the eyes of Jesus those that are around me. Not to move from point A to point B in my tasks set before me, but to be alert and in constant communication with my Dad, scanning all situations visually for those he would stop and reach out to if he were here.
And today his spirit captured me and moved even my feet. I was busy doing my assigned job for Camp Hope in Chongwe Village, which is to discreetly capture the goings-on of camp in photos. From a thatch hut, I scanned the crowd for the next shot and my 250 zoom landed on a very small girl whose lifeless stare gazed directly back at me through my camera. She was alone and clearly her yellow dress was not Camp Hope attire, she was not a camper. She just stood in the dust, lost. God drew me to her. So I walked over. Her gaze turned into a smile as I smiled and knelt down to her.
As soon as I took her hand, I was promptly informed that she had already been sent home. She was not registered to be at camp, so there was no place for her. Someone dropped her off, but she was clearly too young to find her way home, so she just stood in the field of dust alone, watching the joyful campers run and play around her. The man told her again to go home and she hid her face in my side. I took her hand once again and we walked away.
I led her into My Father's house and then to a rug right in the center of the living room. I looked around and found extras of all the crafts for the day and watched her eyes glow as I spread them out in front of her. Without saying a word I picked up a crayon and started to color. She just watched my hand and my face as I made a rainbow, too shy to join me, these beautiful crayons just couldn't be for her. Slowly but surely I placed a crayon in her hand and pointed to the rainbow. Her eyes all the while memorizing my face and gazing lovingly up into my eyes.
As she began to color, I could do nothing but sit back and gaze at her. Gaze upon this beautiful girl named Rose, who I had the privelege of being with and loving for a little while. It humbled me so much to be with her and to sprinkle glitter in her hair. The entire time I looked at her I could not say anything but, Jesus, I love you, so very much. I love you. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to touch you today.
Ever so subtly God has been teaching me a new sensitivity to his spirit, especially in ministry siutations. To see with the eyes of Jesus those that are around me. Not to move from point A to point B in my tasks set before me, but to be alert and in constant communication with my Dad, scanning all situations visually for those he would stop and reach out to if he were here.
And today his spirit captured me and moved even my feet. I was busy doing my assigned job for Camp Hope in Chongwe Village, which is to discreetly capture the goings-on of camp in photos. From a thatch hut, I scanned the crowd for the next shot and my 250 zoom landed on a very small girl whose lifeless stare gazed directly back at me through my camera. She was alone and clearly her yellow dress was not Camp Hope attire, she was not a camper. She just stood in the dust, lost. God drew me to her. So I walked over. Her gaze turned into a smile as I smiled and knelt down to her.
As soon as I took her hand, I was promptly informed that she had already been sent home. She was not registered to be at camp, so there was no place for her. Someone dropped her off, but she was clearly too young to find her way home, so she just stood in the field of dust alone, watching the joyful campers run and play around her. The man told her again to go home and she hid her face in my side. I took her hand once again and we walked away.
I led her into My Father's house and then to a rug right in the center of the living room. I looked around and found extras of all the crafts for the day and watched her eyes glow as I spread them out in front of her. Without saying a word I picked up a crayon and started to color. She just watched my hand and my face as I made a rainbow, too shy to join me, these beautiful crayons just couldn't be for her. Slowly but surely I placed a crayon in her hand and pointed to the rainbow. Her eyes all the while memorizing my face and gazing lovingly up into my eyes.
As she began to color, I could do nothing but sit back and gaze at her. Gaze upon this beautiful girl named Rose, who I had the privelege of being with and loving for a little while. It humbled me so much to be with her and to sprinkle glitter in her hair. The entire time I looked at her I could not say anything but, Jesus, I love you, so very much. I love you. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to touch you today.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
kitwe
There is really no way in this world that I can relay to anyone (but Sophie) the events of our past five days in Kitwe. There were wonderful moments and difficult moments…but these are the best:
The bus:
Watching home video quality African soap operas starring “Beyonce” and “Rihanna” that last four hours. Profuse sweating. Jam-packed bodies. “bathroom” stops when you pay to use the toilet.
Diet:
Five days of consuming LITERALLY nothing more than chips, eet-sum-mor biscuits, chock-its, fanta, and chicken halves. Fanta in Zambia is the most delicious thing I could ever ask for in a soda. There was one day when I drank about six because people just kept giving them to me.
Auntie Susan:
A 62 year old woman who defends muzungus against drunk men. She fought a few off and I asked her what she said to them. “I said I used to fight!”
The orphanage:
Holding babies and knowing that there just wasn’t enough time to love them all.
And one note of humor:
The bus stops are just indescribable. It seems like mass chaos, but somehow to the Zambians, everything is working out just fine. When we were being dropped off to leave for Kitwe, the drivers/recruiters for the buses saw us in the EOH suv before we even turned into the station. One of them shouted AMERICANS!! And the stampede was under way. We couldn’t even get out of the car as our Zambian friend, Humphrey, coolly got out of the car and strode through the crowd of yelling men. He went to find our bus, while all the men just crowded around the car shouting at us to ride with them. The best was when I looked to my left to see a man pressing his lips into the crack of the closed car door in order to get an audible word in to our leader Paul. He was saying “Sir SSirrrrrrrr, excuse me sir, this way, ride with us” but of course you couldn’t understand him because his mouth was squeezing through the crack. I mean yelling was not enough for him, he took it to the next level. He made my day.
The bus:
Watching home video quality African soap operas starring “Beyonce” and “Rihanna” that last four hours. Profuse sweating. Jam-packed bodies. “bathroom” stops when you pay to use the toilet.
Diet:
Five days of consuming LITERALLY nothing more than chips, eet-sum-mor biscuits, chock-its, fanta, and chicken halves. Fanta in Zambia is the most delicious thing I could ever ask for in a soda. There was one day when I drank about six because people just kept giving them to me.
Auntie Susan:
A 62 year old woman who defends muzungus against drunk men. She fought a few off and I asked her what she said to them. “I said I used to fight!”
The orphanage:
Holding babies and knowing that there just wasn’t enough time to love them all.
And one note of humor:
The bus stops are just indescribable. It seems like mass chaos, but somehow to the Zambians, everything is working out just fine. When we were being dropped off to leave for Kitwe, the drivers/recruiters for the buses saw us in the EOH suv before we even turned into the station. One of them shouted AMERICANS!! And the stampede was under way. We couldn’t even get out of the car as our Zambian friend, Humphrey, coolly got out of the car and strode through the crowd of yelling men. He went to find our bus, while all the men just crowded around the car shouting at us to ride with them. The best was when I looked to my left to see a man pressing his lips into the crack of the closed car door in order to get an audible word in to our leader Paul. He was saying “Sir SSirrrrrrrr, excuse me sir, this way, ride with us” but of course you couldn’t understand him because his mouth was squeezing through the crack. I mean yelling was not enough for him, he took it to the next level. He made my day.
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