The Rocks Speak

July 17, 2012


"He replied, 'If they kept quiet, the stones along the road would burst into cheers!'" Luke 19:40

While in Africa I had the pleasure of speaking at local churches on Sunday mornings (did I mention that ONE church service runs three and a half to four hours?!?). The first Sunday I prepared two different messages. Having realized in my own life the importance of building our foundation
of faith on God's Word rather than on hearsay, I based one message on
the passage found in Matthew 7:24-27.

"Anyone who listens to my teaching and follows it is wise, like a person who builds a house on solid rock. Though
the rain comes in torrents and the floodwaters rise and the winds beat
against that house, it won’t collapse because it is built on bedrock. But anyone who hears my teaching and doesn’t obey it is foolish, like a person who builds a house on sand. When the rains and floods come and the winds beat against that house, it will collapse with a mighty crash."

As Saturday night drew to a close I remained unsure of which message God intended for me to deliver the next morning. I prayed over and over for wisdom and discretion. Desperate for direction I decided to ask God for a sign.

In all honesty, I'm not sure it pleases God when we ask Him for signs. In Judges 6 Gideon asked God twice for a sign to affirm that he should attack the Midianites. But I also observe in the next chapter of Judges that God seemed to require an increased amount of faith on behalf of Gideon when God decreased Gideon's army from over 30,000 to just 300. God prefers for us to follow Him by faith, not by sight (2 Corinthians 5:7).

I'm uncertain of what motivated me to ask God for a sign. Call it weak faith, call it jet-lag but the night before I spoke I asked God to show me a brick. Just one tiny brick. I decided that if I arrived to the church and saw a brick--or anything that even remotely resembled a brick--then I would deliver the message based on the passage in Matthew 7 (do you follow my logic . . . bricks as in building our foundations on the Rock?). No brick meant I would deliver the message I had originally prepared.

Are you sitting down?

Because as we arrived at the church the next day, this is what I saw.

Do you see them? Not just one brick. A whole pile of bricks. Right there, at the bottom right corner of this picture.

The photo is an original; no photo-shop here. Just an image of our powerful God who loves to interact with His children.

In Luke 19 Jesus told the Pharisees that if His followers hadn't shouted praises to Him, the rocks would have rejoiced in their place. To the casual observer, it's just a pile of bricks in my photo. But to me the rocks speak volumes of God's love, presence, awareness and very desire to communicate with me.

Beautiful Feet

July 16, 2012


"How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of the messenger who brings
good news, the good news of peace and salvation, the news that the God
of Israel reigns!" Isaiah 52:7

Africa lies nearly half a world away from the good ol' US of A. Forty-eight hours passed from the time our team left the Lone Star State to the time we arrived in Rwanda. With little sleep on the plane(s) I arrived to our destinations feeling like a zombie (and looking like one too).

While waiting to board
the plane to Nairobi, Kenya from London I noticed many mzungu's (that's
African for "white people") in line. From their matching attire I identified at least three Christian groups. My heart filled with warmth at the thought of God moving so many feet to bring good news to Africa. And while I want to believe that God
used each of the American teams to accomplish His purpose in Africa, I
can't help but to consider how much He used the beautiful feet of Africans to accomplish His purpose
in us.

I wonder if your impressions of Africa prove similar to the preconceived notions I had before I traveled to this beautiful land. Inept at geography I failed to remember much from grade-school about the world's second-largest continent. I simply thought of Africa as a place where people went without food and proper shelter; a place overrun with fighting and barbaric practices; a place deep in need of the hope and love of Christ. And while many of those preconceived notions proved true, I realized a heart and spirit about Africa that exceeded my wildest dreams.

God moved in Africa in ways I've never before seen Him move in America. Many Africans have endured vicious crimes against them and their families; many of them live in conditions which would prove fatal to you and me; many of them feel blessed to have even one meal per day--one meal of rice, beans and potatoes. Some of our national ministry partners there continue to go without food. But still these believers praise the Lord with all their being. They know and depend on God at a level I believe few Americans--myself included--will ever experience.

One of the women said to me through a translator, "If we and our children wake up in the morning we know it is by God's grace. We praise Him because He let us live another day."

Ever lived with that kind of gratitude?

I fell in love with Africa but I question why. It's just me--a mzungu from America, a cowgirl (as the Africans called me) from Texas. Why do my heartstrings feel such a tug to return? I believe it is because in Africa I experienced God like never before. God moves in America but oftentimes we're too busy to take notice. In Africa, there's not much to distract. False religion, yes. But when the power of God begins to work in an African heart, the glory of God is evident for all to see.

I thought we were the ones God intended to send to Africa with "beautiful feet" (Isaiah 52:7). But it was the feet of the African women and children to which I found myself most attracted. Feet which rise to praise God for allowing them to awake another day. Feet which carried them 3 hours daily each way to attend Bible study. Feet which stand firm in faith regardless of what comes their way.

The Congo

July 11, 2012


"Don't be afraid, for I am with you. Don't be discouraged, for I am your
God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my
victorious right hand." Isaiah 41:10

The Congo.

When I first realized that my call to Africa would include a week in DR Congo I gave the trip heavy consideration. My only impressions of Congo were those formed by the hands of overly-enthusiastic Hollywood movie directors, and let's just say that those impressions weren't pretty. I knew Congo presented great risk but over time I felt that God made it adamantly clear it was His will for us to enter the war-torn country.

Fighting in Congo began to escalate about six weeks before our trip. Over 10 active militias continue to reek havoc throughout the country, slaughtering families, attacking women and forcing children into fighting. For a short time it seemed as if our entrance into Congo would prove too big of a safety risk. However, just one week--ONE WEEK--before our arrival into Congo the government declared a cease to the fighting. Though the militias remain in-tact they prove less active when not pursued by the government. Our ministry partners in Congo said, "Its obvious your people are praying."

Some time ago My husband placed a quote on our refrigerator by Edmund Burke which reads, "All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing." Though fighting had descended the risk for Congo still proved great. I considered allowing fear to keep me from entering the country--but then evil would have won. The risk was high but God had allowed a small window of opportunity for us to enter Congo. We decided to trust His lead.

While in Congo our team ministered to a group of 22 widows from the jungle area and 30 former child soldiers.  On the first day the expressions on the women's faces communicated their shame and grief. As I began to share with these widows my own experience with grief, their hard faces began to soften. I overtly confessed my realization that my circumstances prove VERY different than their own. But I asked them to consider if our circumstances hadn't caused us to share similar questions about God.

God, are You there?

God, how could You allow this to happen?

God, are you mad at me?

God, don't you love me?

God, how will I ever recover from this tragedy?

I led them through Scripture to demonstrate God's care and concern for them. My ministry partner revealed to them the need for forgiveness and reconciliation--not for the sake of their offenders but for the sake of their own hearts. And by the second day--yes, over a matter of two days--the widow's faces began to glow. The women explained, "No one ever comes to Congo. Most mzungu's (that's Swahili for white person) are too afraid. But because God sent you, now we know He hasn't forgotten us. Now we know God still cares for us."

Please hear me when I say I take NO credit for this. Nothing within me could offer hope to women who have endured such crimes against them. No. Our team witnessed the power of God at its best.

When light shines in a bright room the effect of the light goes unnoticed. But when light shines in a dark room the power of the light appears magnified. The same theory holds true in Congo. Compared to a place like Congo I'd say America shines brightly. But sadly, God's glory and power often go unnoticed in our country. In a place like Congo, however, the light of God bursts forth like the sun rising over a mountaintop. Only the power of God could have renewed the hope of these women. Only God can offer forgiveness for the types of crimes the former soldiers chose to commit, or as in most cases were forced to commit.

The people of Congo endure so much. The least I can do is offer myself as a vessel for God a few weeks of the year to go and remind them of the Good News (Romans 10:14).

Our team crossed the Congo border back in to Rwanda last Thursday afternoon. My heart broke to hear that apparently the government resumed fighting the next day. Over the weekend the militias captured three towns within 24 miles of Goma, the city in which we held our conference. The capturing of towns means more attacks, more lives lost, more children enslaved. Before our time in Congo, more fighting simply meant more fighting; according to Hollywood it's what they do in Congo. But now I have faces to go along with the fighting.

Jeannie, who danced in elation when she
discovered we shared the same name and who lives as a widow with a
bullet in her shoulder because she has no money for an operation.

A faithful grandmother who selflessly
cares for her grandson because she lost the rest of her
family--including her daughter--to the war.

Martin, the father of six and our host pastor who risks his life daily to intercept child soldiers and war-torn widows with the hope and love of God.

Johnson, the UN helicopter pilot who
served as my driver one Sunday morning. A young family man, he flies
rescue missions through the Congo jungles from 9AM-5PM. We heard
helicopters such as his flying hourly over our conference location in
Congo.  The woman who had 4 sets of twins--4 sets--but who lost all 8
children in the war. Samuel, one of our translators from Congo.
John-Paul, a pastor desperate for our team to visit the his beloved
church outside of Goma.

I do not share these stories to dramatize the events in Congo. I share them to ask for prayer.

Congo is a dangerous place. But God loves Congo, and the people of Congo so much He used His strong right hand to cause a cease in the fighting for one week; enough time to allow His message to be proclaimed through His servants.

Would you join me in praying for this war-torn country? Pray that those fighting would lay down their weapons, that the victims of war would be reminded of God's love and provisions, that the people of Congo would turn their faces back toward God so that they may be restored.

Home

July 9, 2012

^"For I will gather you up from all the nations and bring you home again to your land." Ezekiel 36:24

I'm home.

Last night I slept in my own bed in my own room in my own home for the first time in 23 days. While I'm overjoyed to be reunited with my family part of me found it overwhelming to return home. I spent three weeks in a one-bedroom hotel room sleeping under a mosquito net. Warm water often escaped us and nearly every meal consisted of rice, beans and potatoes. Yet most of whom I met while in Africa could only dream of living under such accommodations. Most of whom I met would give anything for running water and three meals a day. Many of whom I met would give anything for just a blanket and one meal a day. I'm glad to be home but my return feels bittersweet.

I realize there's nothing wrong with our family owning a home. But so help me if I ever take our living accommodations for granted again. God has blessed our family in countless ways. May I always remember to be thankful for all He has done. For to whom much has been given, much will be required (Luke 12:48).

My time in Africa ranks as one of the most memorable experience in my life--alongside of my wedding and the birth of my children. I failed to write during our time in Africa because internet access proved hard to find. But I pray God allows me the time and the words to share my experience with you over the next few weeks.

Thank you for your love and support over the past few weeks. May you join me in giving thanks, praise and glory to God for the work He accomplished through us, and for our safe return. "And you are helping us by
praying for us. Then many people will give thanks because God has
graciously answered so many prayers for our safety." 2 Corinthians 1:11