The African Sampler

To those of you who have been keeping track, I apologize that it has taken me so long to send out this fifth update. No, I have not contracted Ebola- just a lack of computer time. Many of you have expressed concern for my safety with the recent news of Ebola infecting Uganda. Praise God, it has not reached Gulu- but please continue to pray for those who have been affected and that the disease may be contained.


The past few weeks have been incredible, in fact so incredible that every time I think- 'ooo I should blog about that', I resist in fear that you wouldn't get to hear about another highlight from the last two weeks.

Thus, here is the African Sampler!

Just like our favorite Ethiopian restaurant here in town, when you cant decide on one item, you've got to experience it all with a several little tastes!

Last week my days were hidden away with my heavenly Father in Jinja, Uganda- what Winston Churchill called 'The pearl of Africa'. There I attended a Fatherheart School with one of the Aunties from our girls home. The school was held at this incredibly beautiful location called Mto Moyoni (Swahili for 'river in the heart'). Mto Moyoni is probably one of the closest replicas to the Garden of Eden that I will ever set my eyes on. As we entered through the large gates and under the archway of flowers, we walked to our God gifted upgraded room- a round, grass roofed hut overlooking the mighty Nile. There we would spend hours 'soaking' in the garden surrounded by plants, flowers, birds, red tailed monkeys, fish eagles, and the presence of God. But what was far more incredible than the scenery was the message that my heart took away from that week. The love of the Father. It may seem like a simple and rather elementary lesson, but the love of God is far deeper than my mind had ever grasped. It was a week of transformation, forgiveness, healing, and listening. I experienced the love of God and the joy of being his daughter more than ever before. But I do not believe this was an experience which will be left behind. I am finding that when your heart is transformed, the rest of the body follows in response. Your mind thinks differently, your eyes see differently, your ears hear differently, and your actions respond differently. I am finding that my journey through the river of the heart has altered the way I view my relationship with God, the trials of the women and children I work with, and the way I view God's plan for my life on many levels. I can not wait to continue this journey with the joy of my soul- my heavenly Father.

After spending a week not having left the gates of Paradise, I rode the combined 10 hours of bodas, taxis, and buses back to Gulu. It felt so good to be back. After arriving at the house and unpacking my things- I was startled to find four little familiar faces at the back door. Four of the girls from the rescue home had come to our house to gather water. All of the girls and aunties were at a huge evangelical crusade that was held just around the corner from our house. After squeals of excitement we leapt into one another's arms and rejoiced over the fact that we were once again reunited. Hand in hand we walked down to the crusade which you could hear loudly from our home. There were thousands of people at the crusade grounds. After excitedly greeting the rest of the girls, some of the children lead me to come dance with their friends. As we neared the spot you could visibly see a wall of dust held in suspension from all of the dancing feet pounding hard against the dry dirt. The children's faces were pouring with sweat and beaming with smiles. The men on stage were jumping so high that their knees were reaching their chins as they sang and danced to local songs of praise. I'll admit that I can't jump anything like that, but the moment a white girl tries to start busting an African move, every person within 10 feet radius has to stop, watch, and laugh. The girls were roaring with laughter as they would watch me try to replicate their moves- and as I looked up to the sky I just thought, I truly could not be happier. Surrounded by the girls, dancing, laughing, and praising my heavenly Father, these are the moments I dream of. 

The following Monday, I was again reunited with the wonderful Imani women, to whom I am not sure I have adequately introduced you to! Zion Project serves both vulnerable women and children who have pasts of sexual exploitation (zionproject.org, imanilove.com). Now that these women are no longer turning to sex as their mean of income, they are given a new occupation to replace the old. Bead making. The Imani women come Monday through Friday to the office which happens to be in the same location as my home. Every weekday morning I pop around to the front of the house and exchange hugely exaggerated welcomes with each of the women as they arrive. It is one of the few times each day where we can exchange words without a translator and still understand one another. These women are absolute treasure. Similar to the many stories I have already shared with you, their pasts are difficult to say the least. But what I am also learning is that once the women are rescued from their past situations, they are not necessarily rescued from the scars that are left behind. Scars that continue to affect them daily. One area that we see as a common struggle for many of the Imani women is finances. This week I began leading a budgeting and savings course and meeting with the women one-on-one to plan their budgets. The ironic thing is, the day before I began teaching the course was the day I finalized my $20,000 loan for graduate school. I felt a bit like a hypocrite- preaching the importance of saving your money as I am living deep in the hole myself. Upon our first group session, I decided to open up with some honesty and vulnerability. I am not the young mzungu (white) girl who is telling you to save your money but really has no idea what it is like to live in debt or to fear finances. After uncomfortably admitting my current situation I watched the faces change as the statement made it all the way through translation. Their faces changed to expressions of empathy and trust. I told them I am no expert in this area, but together we're going to learn how to budget. Were going to learn how to save and how to plan so that with the hand of the Lord, our dreams can become realities.

As we began meeting one-on-one, my eyes were opened to the true financial struggle each woman is facing. Though each receive a salary that is considered above standard for women in this culture, I struggle find a way to cover their incredibly minimal survival expenses with their income. I've come to learn some African saving tactics of buying in bulk and using over time, sharing charcoal with their neighbors, and which foods cost less than others, but balances still remain. It breaks my heart when she tells me that she doesn't want to live in a house with cheaper rent because the only cheeper homes are the huts with grass roofs. She doesn't feel secure sleeping there with her two girls because your enemies may come and catch fire to your roof. When I ask her who would do that she replies: her husband. When another woman sits across the desk, leaning back, very pregnant, expecting her sixth child any day. As I begin to create her budget I sit quiet trying just to figure out how to reduce her current spending by at least half so that she can match her current income, while feeding her whole family. Her husband does not help her financially and has abandoned her, once again. As I enter into their shoes for a brief moment and try to rework their budget to cut costs anywhere we can, I begin to feel helpless, I find myself thinking the same impoverished thoughts they confront. And then I realize, these women are children of God. As they pour out their tears and their heartache about abandonment from their husbands, mocking from friends and neighbors, and fear of how they will make it through next month- I rest in the comfort of knowing their creator and father is the same as mine. We must rest there. We look at where they can make cuts, how they can put at least some money into savings, plan for the dreams of their future, and then we pray. Thats the only thing we can do.

And you know what? I will proudly proclaim that the Lord is already working. The day after our first group session, I met one on one to plan the budget with one woman. We were working on her budget so that we could assess how she could make her dream of owning her own land a possibility some day. When I begin talking about saving she proudly told me that after our lesson the day before, she went to have a photo ID made in order to open a savings account at the bank. I about jumped across the desk when I heard this. I hugged her and told her how proud I was of her. She said 'wisdom comes slowly sometimes, but when you receive it you have to act because its the only way you'll improve'. Another woman has begun coming to work before we open and staying until after we close everyday since we analyzed her budget. She realized that she needed to make more than she was in order to put any money into savings. Timeliness may not seem like a miracle to you, but is an act of God here in Africa.

Now that I am realizing that this sampler has given you much more than little tastes but rather several meals I'm thinking that I should probably wrap things up!


But before I go- a few sweet pieces I must share before wrapping up the meal.

After dinner mints:

• On our trip to Fort Patiko, the location of the old Arab slave trade, our 'tour guide' was high on opium. An unforgettable experience to say the least. Our trip was far more entertaining thanks to him! 
• After returning from Mto Moyoni, I arrived at the girls home for the first time in over a week. I walk through the gate see 6 girls come tearing around the corner sprinting towards me at full speed. What in the world? I am then lifted up and carried horizontally like Queen Sheeba all the way into the house. I think they must have been able to smell the sweets I had brought back from our trip! Abbey and Matthew, why do you never greet me that way ;)? 
• I for the past two weeks I have had a roommate from the UK. It's been so much fun! We laughed until we cried on several occasions from the strange/creepy boda boda experiences we shared, her funny English sayings, and complete shock to the thoroughness of my human anatomy dissections. Having her here for the short time that she was such a blessing! 
• The other day I was riding a boda out of town and passed the small shack of an artist I ordered a painting from. Completely different from the painting I ordered, I see on display for all of Gulu- a portrait of...myself. A very strange experience indeed. 
• Today an older man with a gappy toothed grin walks past me on my way to the market and tells me "Amari" I smile and reply confidently "Amari ma tek!" It wasnt until a few steps later that I realized we had not exchanged the typical "Afoyo" "Afoyo ma tek" (Acholi greeting/ thanks) but rather that man had told me I love you and I replied with I love you very much. Oh dear.

how sweet it is to be loved by you. 

Yesterday was a bitter day. Like 70% dark chocolate. Harsh at first, until you allow the morsel to melt in your mouth, then the sweetness is revealed.

Yesterday was the halfway point. I am one month in and have one precious month to go.

As I sat down to my journal a sense of heaviness hovered over my chest. Awaiting the moment I wrote the date on the page, I anticipated the pain that would immediately hit. I wrote my first words, “Today is a bitter day Lord. I am at the halfway point. It’s amazing to me that I have only been here for one month. The familiarity and connection I feel, seems like it has been much longer.” Rather than the prolonged pain I anticipated to come next, the Lord sweetly blessed our time.

As the initial bitter taste began to melt, I explored the sweetness of all that the Lord has done over this past month. “I am thankful. Thankful that the relationships you've given me which feel as though they have grown for much longer than a month. Thankful that I have experienced you here in a very real and personal way. Thankful for my deepened love and trust in you. Thankful that you have taken this journey with me and are patiently teaching me. Thankful for the month of wisdom and sweet friendship from Sarita. And thankful, so thankful, that I still have a whole other month.”

Through this past month, the Lord has taken me on journey. A journey of discovering joy. Not discovering what it is like to experience joy, but what is God’s design and purpose for joy? Why is he delighted in our joy? For years John Piper’s quote: “God is most glorified in us, when we are most satisfied in Him” has rung in my head. I’ve yearned to explore this deeper.

Beginning this trip I held the same desire which has captured my thoughts and prayer life for quite some time. Desperate to know God’s plan for my life: is He calling me to the mission field, is He calling me to spend my life in Africa, which ministry he is calling me to serve with? Through this past month's journey, though the curiosity still remains, He is directing my heart to claim a new focus. Joy. Joy that is not dependent on the place I am in, the people I am with, or the circumstances I am surrounded by, but joy that is rooted in Him and his glory alone. That in any place, circumstance, or condition I may proclaim confidently the cry of Psalm 63:1, “O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.”

What I have experienced is that this type of yearning, this type of undying desire to know, experience, and love God, produces joy that is abundant and deep. I am finding, that as I shift my focus from finding joy in in Africa to finding joy in God He has graciously surprised me with experiencing moments of infinitely deeper joy in Africa. It’s this kind of overtaking joy. I think somewhat like falling in love. You know that feeling? Your heart is so overfilled with gladness that its wavering over the edge knowing that if you just let yourself take one more step you’ll fall into a pit laughter over absolutely nothing. Everything is just rose colored bliss; you walk lighter, you smile constantly, your stomach tickles, and your heart is free.

It’s happened several times over the past week. As I walked down the street and the man wheeling his bicycle piled high with sugar cane strikes up a conversation that lasts until we both reach town. As I see a woman nursing her babe while selling bananas on the side of the road. As I am reunited with the girls after several days apart; they run up yelling "Auntie!" as I flood them with hugs and kisses on their perfectly shaved heads. It happened when I led a devotional with our women which I had not planned at all. I prayed the Holy Spirit would lead me to the scripture and the words he knew their hearts needed to hear; and that He certainly did. As we sat and prayed for the spiritual and physical warfare of their families back in the Congo, and for their husbands here in Gulu, I realized I could not have planned a devotional that would have had that same effect. It happened when proud tears welled up in my eyes as I watched one of our girls display her gift and passion for music at a competition she and the whole organization has dedicated so much to.

Finding joy in serving in Africa is not bad. Finding joy in your work, your school, your team, your passions, your kids, your family is not bad. I believe God created them as ways for us to experience his goodness and our delight. But the problem I have experienced in seeking joy from these areas is that i think it is enough. I become satisfied with the place, the work, the people, the relationships, not realizing that infinitely greater joy is experienced by savoring the splendor of our God. I mean it makes sense doesn't it? Why would we want to serve a God who is anything less than better than everything?

I can tell you that the joy of being in Africa is sweet. It is treasure. But the joy I experience from my God is abundantly more. He is taking me on this journey, showing me the blessing of loving and enjoying him is where my deepest joy is birthed. It is when I gain freedom from the cross--joy in knowing that I am free from my sins, spending eternity in heaven, and I could not do a thing to earn this gift--it is then that I experience a much deeper joy in life. And right now, that is life in Africa.

Oh yea, this morsel is dag on sweet.

Rescue

As I sit snuggled up in this chitenge-covered chair, drinking Ugandan tea, and listening to the pounding rhythm of the pouring rain it seems like the perfect time to compose another update.

However, I guess I shouldn’t really call these ‘updates’. Far too much happens in these long African days to effectively update you on all that happens. But I can tell you stories. Stories that have impacted me. Though this is a short one, it’s one I have wanted to share.

During my time here I have been reading through this book of Acts. (Following the example of my wise friend Brooke in Costa Rica). I thought it would be a neat way to connect with her, so that despite our great distance we are united as we simultaneously read about the lives of the world’s first Christian missionaries. Every morning I sit amazed, inspired by Peter, John, Paul, and the many others living astoundingly bold lives for the message of Christ’s life. It is something to emulate.

This past Thursday morning I read Acts 12. King Herod has arrested Peter with the intentions of putting him to death for the great disruption he is causing the Jewish faith by speaking out about the gospel of Christ. “The night before Herod was to bring him to trial, Peter was sleeping between two soldiers, bound with two chains, and sentries stood guard at the entrance.”(v.6)

Herod planned for Peter to be killed the following morning.

God planned differently.

“Suddenly an angel of the Lord appeared and a light shone in the cell. He struck Peter on the side and woke him up. ‘Quick, get up!’ he said, and the chains fell off Peter’s wrists.” (v. 7)

Peter follows the angel out of prison past the first set of guards, past the second set of guards, “and when they come to the iron gate leading to the city. It opened for them by itself, and they went through it.” (v.10)

This account is stunning.

As I greet each morning with the encouragement of these fearless missionaries, who put their lives on the line for the chance to proclaim this saving truth. Who told thousands with fervor, that we can be saved by placing our faith in Jesus Christ and following his will. I am utterly amazed by the miracles God provides through their undying desire to make Him known.

As I finish reading this passage, put down my Bible, and contemplate the power of the God I serve; I begin to get ready for the day ahead of me. First on the list, is to meet with a man from the community to discuss potential job candidates for several recent openings with Zion Project. But the meeting became being much more than a simple exchange of job descriptions. This man had a love for Christ and ministry that was exceedingly evident by his overwhelming joy. His spirit was infectious. The joy he had in the Lord not only displayed like a light for all to see, but the flame of his passion was so strong that it couldn’t resist brightening the light of others.

After listening to him speak about his love for Christ and his love for sharing it with the people of Gulu I became quite intrigued by how his story began. Finally I asked: “How did you come to know Jesus?” He smiles a wide, full grin.

“When I was a young boy, I wanted to be a part of the army. To get revenge for killing my Father", he states. “But when the Rebel army (LRA) came to our village and insisted that I join them, I refused. They fired an entire magazine at me. 

But I was not hit once. 

He rescued me.” 

The LRA planned to kill him.

God planned differently.

We can read these stories, of miracles in the Bible like ancient myths. Incredible stories, but no relation to our daily lives.

I do not believe it was easy or painless to trust God in those moments. As Peter sat awaiting his horrific death lingering just hours away. As this man stood a young boy and courageously looked into the barrel of the machine gun telling the rebels “no”, I will not join your slaughtering militia.

The pain of trusting God in the midst of finding a tumor, ending a beloved career, loosing finances, or merely existing in the darkness of loneliness can be terrorizing. But what the Lord showed me on Thursday is that today he is the same God who rescued Peter from the jail cell. His miraculous saving power has not diminished over time, but our belief in it quite possibly has.

I want to trust God with the same degree of expectation in His deliverance as Peter. Who slept so soundly the night before his stoning that even the angel’s bright light was not enough to wake him. The angel had to strike him on his side. Good grief.

God desires to write our story. The plot may bring turns we never desired, or rescues grander than we could have imagined. But, if we agree to the privilege of walking with Him and trusting the author, our ending with Him will be purely magnificent.

Auntie 

I walk through the gate, and instantly I am introduced as "Auntie Christine".It took me back for a second. Auntie? Immediately I was then overwhelmed with the hugs and introductions.

This was June 15th, the day I landed in Uganda. 

After 2 days of flying and one full day of driving I had finally arrived in Gulu.  Home for the next 9 weeks.  Sarah, my roommate, and I drove directly to the children's home.  After exchanging introductions I was immediately immersed into the lively culture of the children's home. The girls were moving the following day, so packing needed to be done, children needed to be bathed, and supper was being prepared.  Supper on this particular night just happened to be chicken and lets just say, chicken here is most certainly both 'free range' and 'organic'.  Lucy, one of our girls, had come home from visiting her village with a live chicken. Now this is a real treat.  She slaughtered it herself, boiled it, and was plucking out the final feathers by the time I arrived. 

Lucy is 13. 

As I was standing there watching in amazement, the girls asked several times if I would like  help. My response: "no, no thank you".  I watch them cut it open and courageously pull out all of the organs.  Next they hack off the feet.  "Auntie, you want?", Offering me the feet.  

I smile because I love all of this.  This is their life.

As I help the girls with their other evening chores and and run around the yard with some of the children, repeatedly I am requested. "Auntie, Auntie run lets run again", "Auntieeee I don't want to bathe", "Auntie Christine, stay the night, don't go". Each time I heard my new name, it continued to melt my heart.

Now I was not specially selected to bear this title, each of their caregivers, are called "Auntie".  But, none the less, there is something particularly endearing about being called "Auntie". It immediately formed a bond that went deeper, and magnified the importance of this new role. In my life, those who have been given the name "Aunt" are in a special place of deep connection. It is reserved for the role of family members and few very close family friends. So already my love and sweet bond to these girls has grown. It has been a true privledge to be invited in so rapidly. I feel invested and connected to them in a way that cares deeply for their well being, their choices, their spirituality, and even the most mundane details of their lives.

Well let me tell you about these beautiful girls. There are 17 of them. The youngest is age 6 and the oldest is age 15. They are full of hugs. They are full of feistiness. They love school and they love tutoring. (Literally, tutoring is the incentive to finishing your chores early.) 

 This week i was handed a yellow folder holding the short stories of their lives previous to Zion Project. I could only get through 2 without breaking down. These are no longer stories without a name.  The name and the story now has an attachment that goes far beyond.  This is Gloria, who I read to yesterday, who I held in my arms and sang to as I dried her off from her cold bath. No, these stories are now very personal. I am their Auntie. These are my girls.

Eventually, I sat down and read story after story: "Doreen was brought to Uganda from Congo as a baby by a soldier who used her as protection from enemy fire", "Alloyo's step father used to call men over to rape her. Used to pimp her and laugh as she cried behind the curtain", "Mercy's mother used to bring men home with her, so she learned how to have sex early. She says boys used to threaten to rape her all the time because she was Congolese and that was 'what she was for' ", "Espy says, 'some boys would come in groups at night and would sleep with me and it would hurt so I would cry and would tell my Mom but she would only beat me' ". These are just a few.

I breathe deeply after reading each. It still doesn't seem real.

As my heart rattles, not sure which emotion to fall on, I come to my knees and pray. 'God what do I make of this?' Exhausted, I then fall asleep for several hours, go for a walk. Then I am reminded of a talk from the Passion conference, the very place I learned of human trafficking. Beth Moore, one of the event's speakers, spoke to us on Luke 8: 40-56. As Jesus is walking through a crowded city, a woman who has been defiled by her discharge of blood for 12 years reaches out and touches the fringe of Jesus' garment.  Immediately the blood stops. Jesus asks who it was that touched him, for he perceived that power went out from his body. The text then reads "And when the woman saw that she was not hidden, she came trembling, and falling down before him declared in the presence of all the people why she touched him, and how she had been immediately healed. And he said to her, "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace.""

This woman was considered 'defiled'. She was not to touch anyone, yet she reaches out and touches Jesus. And Jesus takes notice. Why? Because this was not an accident. He is an all-knowing God who purposely planned this 'holy interruption'. It was not coincidence  that he happened to walked through the city this way, or that he put himself within reach of this woman. He made himself accessible to her. She could not be hidden; and despite her infirmities Jesus heals her immediately.

 In the same way, these girls have a background of physical, spiritual, emotional and relational trauma. It is terrible what tremendous acts have been used to 'defile' them. But they are not hidden. God has purposely made their stories known to Zion Project. He has rescued their bodies, their souls and their hearts.  The same path of shame and darkness has brought them to salvation and worthiness. I believe that when God places His hand on the terrors of their past it will lead to their good and His glory.  For my girls are not hidden, and their faith has made them well. 

This is where i experience joy every day.  The childrens home. I love it here.  Jollie (waving), Alfosina (hugging), and Naiomi (looking at me). They are precious treasures.

Comfort and joy rests in my soul.  I am here. I am back.  

Oh finally.

Thank you dear Jesus. 

Readers, I can not thank you enough.  They say it takes a village to raise a child, and this child certainly isn't done growing.  Some of you have supported me through prayer, through financial donations, by offering a listening ear, or even just by showing interest and reading this update.  But to each one of you, thank you.  I am so very grateful--God has made this possible through you. This path, which many of you have traveled with me, has been somewhat similar to the roads in Uganda; dirty and bumpy.  But similarly it has also been truly beautiful.  There is something magnificent about the red dirt roads against the backdrop of mud hut houses, laundry on the line, children running, and women working.  

I am in Gulu, Uganda to serve the Lord.  

You see, He has this group of people who He loves dearly. They're his children.  But they have lived through horrific experiences of rape, abuse, and mistrust.  They are thirsting for hope. To know they are loved and desired.  

 I believe full heartedly the Lord jealously wants to meet these needs.  

If I ended the description here, you may have a picture of these silent, emotionless, lifeless people.  But oh no--that has not been my experience.  Though I believe many of them could relate to those characteristics in the past, I delight to tell you that most of these women have eagerly placed their hope and their salvation in the hands of their father, Jesus Christ.  My daily interactions have been filled with singing, laughing, joyful squeals, and even sassy tongues.  There is life alright, but that does not negate the impact their past is making on their present day.  

I am here to serve with an organization called Zion Project (zionproject.org). Zion Project works with war-affected women and girls exploited by the global sex trade.  Through my time here I will be loving and ministering to the women, children, and staff. I also pray that this experience will cause a ripple effect that reaches many westerners for years to come.  My friend Brooke and I are working together on our occupational therapy masters thesis which is focused on the rehabilitation of human sex trafficking victims.  While I am spending nine weeks working with Zion Project, Brooke will be volunteering with another human trafficking organization called LightForce International in San Juan, Costa Rica.  Through this research we home for this ripple effect to reach our communities at home, school, and cause waves in our profession of occupational therapy.  

I have so many stories I want to share with you. But I'm trying not to overwhelm you in the first posting! Thank you again.  Life is abundant and wonderful, and I can not thank God enough for it. 

From your loving family

Today is the day that our precious girl leaves for Uganda to follow her heart as she  serves Our Awesome Lord and Savior while loving on the Woman and Children of the Zion Project!
Praying for Christine's safety as the Lord uses her gifts and talents and that she would blessed as she serves.  We love you Roo Bear!!