A Nest and A Kingdom

(Have you checked out the page on this blog called: Who I am + Some Big Dreams”? If you’re one of those wondering what I’m up to, I’ve tried to give some answers there.)

I found it on the ground.

A nest.

I fingered the rim, the hard caked mud that had dried, holding the grass in place. There is soft grass in the hollowed middle, and rougher grass on the outside.

A miracle.

Some small bird designed this?? Don’t they call this sort of thing engineering? How do they do it? It is such a big task. I almost ask the cheeky robin who squints up at me from the sidewalk.

They work hard, these birds. All day long they gather one strand at a time, one beakful of mud at a time, and they build. It all adds up, apparently, because in my hands there is a beautiful nest.

I wish….I wish I had that same single-minded vision and focus. I pray that every action, thought, word, deed, every job done and smile shared, everything, would be strands that I’m bringing to God for building His Kingdom. I am a justified sinner in a broken world, and everything can be redeemed by the God who redeemed me. Everything in my life can be holy when it is gratefully received, when I see God’s glory in it. So I pray, and I finger that mud-caked rim, and I see God’s glory….and His kingdom will be built in my life, one straw at a time.

Prayer Alert!

One of the Bana Basi ya Kopela girls is in a hospital in Isiro starting Thursday. It seems to be a combination of malaria and typhoid fever. Her name is Exoce (the last ‘e’ sounds like ‘ay’). Her father is on a journey, so her mother is staying with her in the hospital. Please pray for healing and a deeper walk with Jesus.

That They May Sing

The cuckoo clock, wedding gift to my parents, ticks peacefully in the shadowy corner. I hunch over my Bible, open before me on the carpet. In winter the world wakes slowly, and I’m trying to let Romans seep into my soul before the day begins in earnest. My sister is curled up on the rocking chair in an effort to stay warm. She speaks.

“Hey, we could make this into a song.”

There are things I love about Joanna. She is my little sister with the big smile and bigger heart. Her faith and humility inspire me. And – she loves music. Together, we’re taking a songwriting course. Trying to figure out how to voice our heart-throbs.

So I look up. “What do you have there?”

“A poem you wrote…and that I copied. It’s the one about ‘up, sheep!’.”

“I don’t remember that one.”

She begins to read it. Morning stillness. Shadows. Words from the past. That clock keeps obstinately ticking away, but I know that time stands still.

She reads. And I remember. The aching soul, the kneeling and crying out. When there was no answer. “Do you think we could really put that in song? How would you find a melody? It’s so…raw.”

“But it rhymes.” Ah, yes, there are things I love about Joanna!

I smile.

Next day, walking into a blustery wind, sloshing through the unending slush puddles, and Jesus is speaking to my heart.
I’m thinking again of that raw, unfinished poem. Joanna told me that the one thing it’s missing is a resolution. But there was no resolution for me that night I wrote it.

He speaks, “Give those raw moments to me. I want to make them into a song.”

I clap my mittened hands together, filled with joy at the thought.

Yes! Yes, give it to Him! Yes, that I may remember the soul-agony! Yes, that I may rejoice in His faithfulness!

Because now I know there IS a resolution.

Him.

Funny how it took me so long to figure that one out, isn’t it?

And yet, as Congo is on the news and Congo is on our hearts, voices from the past sometimes penetrate our present world with suprising honesty. There was pain. Ache. Those times when heaven seemed mute.

What do we do with that?
Where is the resolution? There is only one.

Him.

Resolved in Him, the past doesn’t loose it’s potency, but it changes for us. It doesn’t fetter us, because we are free in Jesus. And there’s only one thing to do when that happens –
SING!

Sing, so that the broken past can become a beautiful testimony to the present faithfulness of our God!
Yes!
Pray that God gives His people a melody for Congo’s heart cries. That they may sing.

News from Congo

It gives me joy when I hear that God’s people are praying for Congo. When Jesus moved us to Canada, I knew that He had a reason. What joy to discover that one reason is so we can enlist the prayers of His people for Congo! Some people who will read this have taken prayer cards for some young ladies in Congo who are involved in Bana Basi ya Kopela (a discipleship group for young ladies). Recently, Jesus gave us the awesome gift of speaking with Nono and Anyesi over Skype (some kind missionary friends helped set that up!). There has been so much to catch up on. One young lady who was part of our leader’s training died in childbirth. That was a shock. A group of around thirty girls have been meeting regularly since August (when we left Congo), led by Nono and Anyesi, and sadly another girl from that group passed away this month after receiving severe burns. Please pray for physical protection for these girls, as well as spiritual.

We praise God for the faithfulness of Nono and Anyesi. Those two are good friends! I am so glad that they don’t have to do it alone. I praise God for your prayer support! The group in Congo is nearing the end of the lessons Anna and I prepared before leaving the country, so pray for inspiration and Spirit-led wisdom as we collaborate from Canada and Uganda to prepare more lessons.

Advent.

More. More!

There are those pleas of the heart that cannot be silenced. There are days when your heart groans something deeper and more distressing than any human language can put in syllables. There are places the tongue cannot touch, the ear cannot decipher.

And in that moment, in one of those pangs, I scribble in my journal….

My heart sighs.

Lonely.

Cold.

My soul cries

griveances

Untold.

Speak? I know not how

I grope for words now.

Hunger doesn’t tire.

Crave.

Lust.

Impassionating desire!

Right now.

I must.

Must get God! Must see His face

Yet I linger, languish in this place!

Darkness all ‘round.

Heavy.

Deep.

Who hears the soul-sound?

Wail!

Weep!

All I have left in me is a gasp. One last

Sob. “Come, Jesus! Come quick! Come fast!”

Soul plea.

Voice.

From mess.

COME TO ME!

This!

Yes!

Come, do not tarry, don’t be late!

Come soon, do not wait!

I sought

To come

To You.

I cannot

Make it

Through.

COME TO ME, just as I am.

Sanctify me, my King, my Lamb!

Cold heart.

Heat.

Break.

Dull love.

Arouse!

Awake!

COME!

My soul cry

Takes shape.

Finds a

Word:

JESUS COME NOW!

I believe.

HE.

HEARD.

These are the days when my soul seems to be trapped in a stifling cage. I hammer hard at Heaven’s gates for God. Or am I just banging my head against my own self-made shell?

I am saved. Truth does not change. But how can I be so sure and certain when my life does not bear the fruit? I cry for the Holy Spirit. Come! Please, please, come! Fill me! Fill me with power and love and discipline! Bear in me the fruits of Jesus!

The days draw near to Christmas. When will I purify my heart and draw near to God? I read Joel and God tells His people to rend their hearts. The rending comes before the pouring out of the Spirit.

Advent in Canada is a time of goodies and cookies, of hoping-for-snow and dozens of concerts and events. But in the Book I read, Advent is a time of repentant crying out to God.

Rend my heart, God.

God says in Isaiah, “COME, all you who are thirsty!” My heart and flesh cry out in answer, we thirst! But I cannot come! I am shackled, and they are chains I made myself.

I read it out slowly, savouring the words, marveling at the mystery, floored at the goodness of God. Candlelight flickers on my page. Holiness is all around me.

“Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel,

because he has come to his people and redeemed them.

He has raised up a horn of salvation for us

…to rescue us from the hand of our enemies,

and to enable us to serve him without fear

in holiness and righteousness before him all our days….” (Luke 1)

He.

Has.

Come.

Before my soul even uttered that twisted cry, He had answered.

He has come.

Blessed Advent, everyone. May it be for you a season of wrestling with God, of begging to see His face, of waiting, of longing hard for Him to come. May it be a season pregnant with the hope of Messiah. For He has come. And He will come again.

Come quickly, Lord Jesus!

Barefeet and Congo, Part 2

How many Sunday School children have repeated this verse?

 

What does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God? (Micah 6:8)

Who lives it?

This is the barefoot life. We are free. How shall we walk? Humbly, with our God. To go barefoot, in Jesus’ times, was the sign of a slave. Our God was barefoot when He took the sin of the world on His shoulders. In ultimate humility, He took the nails. This is the God we walk with. How shall we walk? Love mercy. We do not hide from the pain of the world. We do not distance ourselves from the brokenness. We are moved with the same gut-wrenching compassion that moved Jesus as He reached out and touched a leper, as He forgave the sins of a weeping prostitute. How shall we walk? Do justice. It is a hard truth, yet if we say we love God but do not love our brothers, we lie and the truth is not in us. Humility and compassion drive our hands – faith without works is a sorry thing. We feel the pain, we break with the brokenness, but that is not the place to linger or stop! Our Jesus touched, healed, forgave, blessed, restored, renewed, transformed! If I walk barefoot, if I walk free, it is for one purpose: to follow in His steps.

How does this all apply when I read of the part my country has played in the death of all those millions in Congo? The part I play even as I type on my computer?

 “Eastern Congo defies comparison. The loss of life far exceeds deaths in Iraq and Afghanistan combined. Yet this is not some distant tragedy, not just another African horror story. The lives and deaths of these millions of Congolese are linked to us all. The mines that scar the verdant hills and mountains of eastern Congo produce a very small but very bloody portion of the tin and coltan metal that is critical to our modern lives. Each time we use a mobile phone, use a video game console, or open a tin can, we hold the lives and deaths of the eastern Congolese in our hands.”

Coltan is a black, tar-like mineral. Well over half the world’s supply is hidden in Congo. Refined coltan becomes highly heat resistant and can hold a high electrical charge, making it an important ingredient for almost all electronic devices as well other uses such as camera lenses and pacemakers. Coltan is in such high demand that people, even nations, will go to great lengths to get it – even if thousands must die in the conflict.

I cover my eyes with a hand, and try to make sense of this: Lord, what will Your judgement be on the West? We who blind our eyes to the exploiting of the heart of Africa, we who covet iPods and computers and let greed dull our consciences! Are our countries not blinding themselves? Again I ask, why is this not more spoken of? In a day and age where everything circulates on the news, keeping time with the incessant ticking of clocks, why is a disaster so huge and an exploitation so vulgar largely unnoticed? Why do our countries not take action? Why does no one stand for the truth? If we the West can rightfully condemn Lubanga for using children soldiers, what will our sentence be when the truth of our self-deception is exposed? The truth of our passivity? God, what do I do with what I am hearing, reading? What do I do? Where do I turn? Who will stop the mindless, cruel slaughter? Who will reconcile these people?

I know that there are many factors at play in Congo. I know that not one nation is to blame for everything. No. All stand condemned. Canada, America – we boast in freedom, in democracy, in the right of humans! Yet for the sake of a game, so that we might have our laptops and gadgets a split second faster, we shed human blood! Where is justice? Where is truth?

Where are the barefoot servants of a humble God? What is the justice that is required of us in this? I do not know. I do not have the answers. But I know that those who touch the heart of Africa touch the heart of God – and I plead with God: Where is the mercy to bring those men with seared consciences to their knees in fear and trembling and horror at the acts they have committed? Where the love that compels and convicts and transforms? God, when will You visit Congo? When will You rend the heavens and come down? When will You come to this blood-soaked, forsaken, forgotten land? When will You bind up the sputtering heart of Africa, and make it beat to the rhythm of Your own holy heart?  

Lord, have mercy!

 

For those reading this, take time to think of what it is the Lord requires of you. Will you pray? Even fast? Will you research and read and cry and be broken? Will you act? I want to do justice, but I am only a girl and I don’t yet know how. If you have thoughts, please feel free to comment on this post so that your wisdom can help me as well!

Grace for a Mopengwi

I gently apply my brakes and hop off the bike. It’s safest to walk this last bit of path that runs straight through the ditch. That’s when I hear it. A timid voice calling my name. I turn and see M coming towards me, covering her face with both hands.
The evening air swells with silence. There is no one else in the neatly swept compound. She steps over a little patch of green grass and I greet her enthusiastically. “M! I haven’t seen you for so long!”
“No…” she squirms, shaking the very loose, baggy dress she’s wearing. “I’m so ashamed and so afraid….did Anna tell you?”
“Yes.” Yes, I have known for months now that she is pregnant. I’ve tried to find ways to talk with her, but it never worked out…and now, there is no more hiding the truth.
“I’m just trying to hide,” it startles me to hear the echo of my thoughts in her next comment, “just trying to hide at home. I’m scared….ashamed for people to see me like…like this.” Again, a vague wave of her hand that tries to cover and at the same time display her bulky dress and the baby underneath.
“You can’t hide, M.” We both know that news travels fast, but I mean more than that. I mean that she can’t hide herself from facing the truth herself, and she can’t hide from God. “Look, come and talk soon, please? You are right to be ashamed, but you don’t have to be afraid.”
She’s already retracing her steps back to the house, back to her cooking, back to her old life and her burden of shame. She pauses, and I pray.
From behind her hands, she murmurs it loud, “But, Maaike, I am a mopengwi.” (a loser)
The awkward metal frame of my bike and a few hundred meters of hard packed dirt separate us, and I try to find words quickly before someone comes and the chance is gone.
“M, God loves bamopengwi (loosers). He loves them more than anyone else. He came to die for them, He rose for them, He lives for them.”
Silence behind the hands covering her face, trying to cover her embarrassment, her dirtiness, her sin.
“But you have to understand, M, that if you give Jesus your life He will take it all. You must make the choice. His grace is there.”
She looks up, and in the growing dusk I can’t tell if there is a change in her countenance. She slowly lowers her hands.
“Well, maybe we can talk,” she says, taking another step further away, “maybe someday I’ll find time to come talk.”
“Yes, do!” I watch her disappear around the mud hut.
Pray that she knows God’s grace? Pray that she is transformed? She has asked me to pray with her for Jesus to change her life for years now…and even when she stops asking me to pray with her I still will pray for her.
This is the story of so many girls. Shame and fear. Hiding and bitterness. Terror and guilt. Pray for those making the stand for Christ and purity to have strength to be an example. And pray for those who have fallen, that they might know their Saviour.

Passing It On

Today we stood before hundreds of people to openly and officially hand over the ministry of Bana Basi ya Kopela to Nono. The people knew her far better than they knew us; it was her church. We explained how the program had developed, and how we thought it could continue: each leader coming to Nono for training and then going out to start a group of five to six girls on her street/in her neighbourhood. Those girls would have to commit to finishing the twenty-five lessons we prepared.

We read our prayer/advice for Nono and all the other girls:

“Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. Do not quench the Spirit…but examine everything carefully; hold fast to that which is good; abstain from every form of evil. Now may the God of peace Himself sanctify you entirely; and may your spirit and soul and body be preserved complete, without blame at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. Faithful is He who calls you, and He also will bring it to pass. Brethren, pray for us also.” ( 1 Thess. 5:16-25)

 

Over two years ago, as I prayed about starting this group in a few months, I wrote that big in my journal: Faithful is He who calls you, and He will also bring it to pass.

This morning we declared Him faithful in His dealings with us, and we stated faith in His faithfulness for their sanctification.

We told the church that there are many nice things you can teach, and much good advice to be given to young ladies, but the one thing we found these two years is that if you don’t give them Jesus, it’s all useless.

Everything.

Is.

Mpamba. (Vain/useless/pointless/empty in Lingala)

Jesus is the only One who can change people, and Jesus is the only One who will give Nono the strength, the courage, and the vision to carry on with this work.

Nono’s father, a Pastor, called up various other Pastors and church leaders and they surrounded us, joining hands. We knelt. Their prayers filled the air, and I remembered the last time we had knelt like this.

It was at the closing of the leader’s training. There we had been so many. Today, we were only three. And two of us are leaving. This would be impossible were it not that we serve God Almighty.

 

There are other girls who will work alongside Nono.

There is Anyesi, our neighbour. She has attended more lessons than anyone else, and is such a sweet, steady girl. She also is trained to be a leader and during that training she became good friends with Nono.

 

and some other girls….

back row, first one on the right is Marie (also trained as a leader), then Joanna, Gloire (trained as leader), Grace (trained as a leader), Nono, and then two random ladies. the front row is Anyesi, Anna, and Maaike

 

Nono will need all the prayer help you can give. Will you commit to praying for her and the others daily or at least weekly?
Thank you!

DAY THREE

Day Three we talked about fathers. The attitudes and behaviour of fathers have deep cultural roots, and today some of the problems were revealed. After Uncle Rich’s talk about God’s design for fatherhood, we divided as usual into small groups: fathers, mothers, young men, young women, boys and girls.

In my group of young ladies, I started out by asking them if there were any challenges/problems in the area of relationships with fathers. There was a unanimous cry of “yes! So many!” The girl next to me said, “I don’t know how to say this in Lingala, really….but what we’re really missing from our fathers is love. Like, knowing that he delights in us and is interested in us. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t have a lot of money, we just need to know that he loves us.” I asked if any of the girls felt loved in that way by their fathers. None. Except me, of course. (I am incredibly blessed to have my father, by the way.) One girl went on this lengthy praise of the uncle she was staying at because he provided for them well and they never slept hungry. “Do you ever feel like your fathers don’t let you sleep hungry in body but you do sleep hungry in your hearts?” I asked. Girls were nodding. I felt like crying. These girls feel like all the guys are out to use them, their fathers don’t show them love, and they don’t have a real living relationship with Jesus. How do they live? We had an opportunity to ask some questions for pastors to answer the next morning and the first question they wanted to ask was, What can we do to make our fathers love us?

The young children (below twelve) were never really a part of our plan for this conference. But I am so, so thankful that they are there. Every day they sit still, listening closely. They are seated up front, and they notice everything. Then when they are given an opportunity in their group to ask questions, they ask. This morning, a very wise Congolese pastor was answering some of the questions and giving a summary of the last day. The children had asked, “If our parents leave us hungry, refuse to clothe us and pay for our school fees, if they neglect us, is it a sin not to obey them?” There was a loud murmur of surprise at the pointed question among the adult sections of the church, and the Pastor in the front turned to them. “What do we need to do?” he asked. The answer: we need to ask forgiveness. So he turned to the group of children sitting at the front and said, “Children, all of us parents here ask your forgiveness.” That was my favourite part of the morning session!!! It is so rare to see an adult apologizing to a child here!! And then he turned and asked the adults again, “Once we’ve asked forgiveness, what must we do?” The answer: we must change. Yes! We must change. That is what is being said again and again this week.

Again, the little boys asked, “Why in the pictures is Pastor Richard holding his baby when none of the men here hold babies? They always give them to a woman or an older child.” That again has deep cultural roots, and the pastors are uncertain how to answer. Two boys under ten years old made commitments today that when they grow up and marry, they would take the responsibility of raising their children to follow God.

There is so much hope with the children. With the women groups, there is a lot more discussion of issues that have risen after years of bad decisions. There are polygamous marriages, split families, and widows.

The men, who are primarily addressed in each session, are the ones who have showed the most openness to change and to challenge their ‘Goliaths’ in their families and societies. I don’t know much more than that, because I was not in their small groups and I did not talk with their leaders.

So God is doing a great work, and we are amazed! Now Uncle Rich moves on to the topics of marriage and healthy sex, also hot spots in this culture. Pray, pray, pray!

DAY TWO

Today was another great day. There were a lot more people than yesterday. Uncle Rich preached on many important topics, including the responsibility of a man to protect his family from bad influences. He told the story of David and Goliath (and had some people help act it out) and how men must stand up to the giants in their lives in the name of the Lord. And….there was a lot of other things, but I’m about ready to fall asleep. Please keep praying, and enjoy the pictures below. God is doing BIG things here, and it’s so exciting being a part!!!!!

this is the group that just kept talking way beyond the time limit…. Pray for changed hearts and courage to follow through on the decisions the men made during their discussion time.

Dr. Des, who came with Uncle Rich

praise God for the men who came!!

these kids are excited by the camera…but really, it is remarkable how still they sit to listen, and how well they answer and ask questions afterwards!

this is before all the benches filled up for the music festival part of the day. It looks like nice Sunday picnic weather, doesn’t it? It was HOT! Praise God that He’s kept the rain away so far this week!!

the first choir that sang (I’m in there!)

this is Goliath and David

challenging and encouraging the men in between choirs

Pray for open hearts, clear skies, good health (especially for Uncle Rich), accurate interpretation, and for the Holy Spirit to work mightily….

 

There were many more choirs (and hence there are many more pictures!), but I think it’s time for bed.

We praise God for some Uganda missionaries who came to help with the audio recordings, filming, and picture taking. It’s amazing how God has brought together so many nationalities and missions and churches to do this conference!

THANK YOU to all who are praying! This conference is more than what I hoped for! It is bringing transformation! As a last picture….. here’s one of the many reactions to the teaching/singing today;

 

Blessings! And keep praying!