2 days after our Real Life Kenya team hit African soil, they were given a few tents and sent into the bush with the Maasai tribe for a week. Their assignment? Door to door evangelism. (Well, maybe hut to hut is more accurate!)
So they headed out, confident in the Lord if not in themselves. But for several groups, they were met with a less than favorable response. It seemed nobody was all that interested in hearing about Jesus, and instead could only talk about rain. They'd experienced a drought for several months and finally one man became downright disrespectful before putting it bluntly, 'If there is a God, why hasn't He brought rain for so long?'
As the team looked into this man's eyes their discouragement turned into determination and they prayed for rain. They prayed for rain as if this one man's life depended on it. And sure enough, that night, the skies opened up and did it ever rain. In fact, it rained for 3 days straight until finally, on the last night, their tents flooded and their mattresses started floating away. When it finally stopped long enough for them to leave their shelter, they went back out and stumbled across this same man.
He didn't seem to want to get too close and they could see the fear in his eyes. When they finally approached them, he said, 'I've searched up and down this valley for someone who could bring the rains and nobody's been able to do it. I don't know who your God is, but if he can control the rain, then I want to know him.' So the team prayed with him and praised God that He is not only the God of our salvation, but also a God who can send the rains.
It's been almost a year since my eyes were opened. For almost a year now I've carried the responsibility of what I know.
That over 27 million men, women and children are enslaved against their will. In our world. Right now.
That 1,000,000 children are forced to sell their bodies every day in the global sex trade. In our world. Right now.
That the slave trade generates $32 billion...billion...annually. In our world. Right now.
Right now this is happening. As I write this blog, as you read these words, there are children crying out for someone to rescue them. There are women desperate for God to answer their prayers. Just stop for a moment and listen. Listen for their pleas. Listen for your heart to break. Listen for what God is calling you to do. Because we are His answer to their prayers. We are His response to their cries. And we are responsible for fighting for justice here on this earth. Yesterday was National Human Trafficking Awareness Day. Which a nice way of saying, 'We still live in a world that sells people as objects, where slavery still exists, so start learning about it and do something.' Do something to make a difference. Tell somebody. Donate money. Pray bold prayers. Give up your life. Go visit other nations. Become a social worker or a lawyer. Educate yourself. Fight. Let your heart be broken and moved to action. Just do something.
My eyes were opened in Banglaore, India. Check out the blogs I wrote while I was there.
I wrote about the realities of life for thousands of women sold into prostitution in Bangalore. I wrote about Hope* and her baby, Jessica, that I absolutely fell in love with. And just today I got this update from the organization we worked with. When I met Hope, her hair had been chopped short (which is common for women sold in India) and now it flows down to her shoulders. Jessica (a baby her mother wanted nothing to do with when she was born) just turned a year old and is walking around all over the place. I wish I could post a picture of them, but I won't for their safety. But picture a beautiful, strong woman holding the cutest little Indian child ever. :) I fell in love with Hope and Baby Jessica and I have prayed for them ever since I left. While the realities are harsh, our God is a God of justice and of Redemption as you can see from this update. They just had a Christmas celebration where over 1100 prostitutes showed up and Hope told her story.
Several girls gave their testimony of what their life had been like before coming to Rahab's Rope, and what it is like now. The most powerful of the day was Hope*.
Hope is very shy and soft spoken, and it was a surprise that she wanted to share her story. I shared her story a few months ago but to refresh your memory; she was gang raped, left for dead, became pregnant, and her family kicked her out.
She said that she had never experienced love until coming to Rahab's Rope. In tears at the Celebration, she shared her story and told how in all of her difficulties she had prayed to the many gods but none would help her. When she was brought to Rahab's Rope and learned of Jesus and prayed to Him, her life has completely changed. She said she has experienced true love and peace.
She encouraged all the women there to do the same. Hope had the entire audience captive with her words; it was the quietest the building had been all day.
David Dass followed up with a message and an invitation. Over 400 girls and women stood and indicated they wanted to know this same Jesus that Hope has come to know.
Please pray that the girls understood and that our staff will be able to reach out and meet with each one in the coming days.
I think it started with a debate about which end of the Turkey you stuff. I was convinced it was the, well, rear end, because haven't you seen the Friends episode where Joey gets the turkey stuck on his head? The rear end, right? Well, head or rear, it doesn't really matter, because I would have no idea how to even start preparing a turkey! I think that comes in the manual you get when you become a mom...yes?
Anyway, I'm assuming a few families in Port Huron have more of a clue than I do. Because over Thanksgiving, our church delivered over 200 Thanksgiving dinners! So Allison and I got our 3 boxes of food and a map of an area of town...and since we'd lived here for all of approximately 2 weeks, we turned on our GPS and only made a couple of wrong turns before we found our way. We could deliver to anybody we wanted to.
We drove around for a few minutes asking the Lord to show us who needed these dinners. We drove past a house with a giant 'Beware of the Dog' sign. I'm pretty sure that roughly translates to 'Don't deliver here.' So we kept driving and a few houses later we saw a woman in her yard. We asked if she could use a Thanksgiving turkey and she turned us down. Not taking her denial personally, we asked if she knew anyone else who might need a dinner. She told us about a family 2 houses down...the dad had just passed away 2 days before in a pretty brutal car accident. We turned and counted. Turns out, my translation was off.
So we carried our giant box of Thanksgiving dinner--turkey, stuffing, potatoes, bread, mac and cheese, cranberry sauce, even a frozen pie!--up to the door and before we could even knock, it swung open. And we came face to face with the dog. We affectionately refer to him as Satan. But just past Satan was a whole slew of people. When Amy (the wife and mother) saw us, she burst into tears. We asked if she could use the dinner and as she thanked us, the kids started digging in the box. They squealed over the jar of peanut butter because they'd just run out the day before.
The two girls, around nine or ten, then told us about their Sunday morning.
One started, 'Guess what we got at church today? Wait, what did we get?'
The other reminded her, 'We got saved. And we're gonna get baptized too. Are you saved?'
And we said yes and goodbye as they walked out the door to the funeral.
I've struggled a little with blogging because after this year of adventures, I wonder if I have any good stories to tell here in America. And then I remembered that the best moments of my year didn't happen when I was 'doing ministry.' They didn't happen according to a schedule. They didn't happen because I was overseas or because I was a missionary. They happened because God spoke and I listened. Because I truly believed I was bringing Kingdom everywhere I went. Because I saw what God was doing and jumped in. So if I don't have any good stories to tell here at home, it's probably not an issue of location, but of motivation.
Now, a month later, we revisited our family to drop off some Christmas gifts. With only a few more wrong turns, we walked back up the porch. We held off Satan and we talked with Grandma Shirley. We left some presents under the tree. Not because they need them, but because we wanted to give them. And suddenly, I have a story to tell.
Because I remembered how to interpret the signs. Even if they are in English.
I've been home for 3 months now. Long enough for the smell of India to have worn out of all my clothes. Long enough to have forgotten how to say thank you in 11 different languages (well, maybe if I think really hard...). Long enough to miss the heat even if it did mean sweating 24 hours a day. (Hey, I live in the frozen tundra of Michigan now, any kind of heat definitely sounds good!)
And long enough for my 'post-race' plans to have changed a couple of times over! So I'm really excited to update you on what I'm doing these days.
I'm living in Port Huron, Michigan with a bunch of other crazy World Race alumni. We have a beautiful, cozy gingerbread house where I can see Canada from my window! There are currently 6 of us (and about to be 12 of us!) who live and work out of this great house. And we get to continue to live out this community lifestyle. I'm about to share a bathroom with 8 other girls! We bump into each other and things get messy (both figuratively and literally!), but at the end of the day, I'm surrounded by people who encourage me, who challenge me and who want more for me than I even want for myself. It's pretty awesome.
I'd always planned on moving to Michigan, but about 6 weeks ago, I was approached with a new job description. While the World Race travels to 11 countries in 11 months, we also have some shorter term trips known as 'Real Life.' These trips are for college-aged participants and are 11 weeks long, usually in one location. This program needed some new direction and I'm very excited to be leading it! We sent out around 200 missionaries this year and are hoping to double that by 2011! We work with local ministries in about 25 different countries and have huge ideas for how God is going to work through this! So even though I'm not on the field right now, I get to be a part of bringing God's kingdom to the nations--probably about 15 in this next year!
Because we want to keep the trip costs as low as possible for participants, all of our staff continue to raise our own support. I'm still looking for about 25 people to support me $50 each month. You would be directly impacting what happens on the ground in Swaziland. In Kenya. In Nicaragua and India. In Uganda. In the Philippines and Peru and Bolivia. In Israel. Tanzania and Brazil. And think how far beyond that your investment would go. These trips not only minister directly to the people on the ground, but participants lives are changed and many of them return to the mission field after graduation. Many of them have come back and are now leading trips to new places. I'd love for you to consider being a part of this!
I couldn't resist sharing this amazing story from one of our teams currently in Swaziland. Check out Tiffany Berkowitz's blog for more amazing stories about how God is moving through them! Now that I'm home, I'm continuing to raise support so that I can mobilize and equip new racers to get out on the field. If you'd like to continue to partner with me financially, click the 'Support Me' link on the left. And read on to see the AMAZING things God is doing because of your prayers and support!
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From Tiffany's blog:
I had just sat down on one of the mattresses
in the common area of where we live to watch an episode of "The Office"
with some of the girls. I had never seen it before, and thought a
little mid-day bonding over popcorn and a show sounded pretty good.
Five minutes into the show, William and Matt walked in the room and
asked the question... "Are there any girls who would want to go with
Pastor Gift to deliver a baby?"
I think after the initial shock wore off... I jumped up faster than I
ever had before. I looked at Erin who had also jumped up and started
pumping my fists in the air and screaming with so much excitement.
Within a few moments, six of us girls were piled into White Chocolate
(the old white van we drive around) and ready to go.
We picked the mother up from her home. Her name is Gamane. She was
already in a lot of pain and could barely walk. This is her story: Her
mother was a prostitute, so she is a direct product of that lifestyle.
Her mother was born again and now looks down upon her daughter,
disowning her because of the lifestyle that SHE has now chosen... the
life of a prostitute. Gamane, only 25 years old, is now pregnant with
her 5th child, and has no idea who the father is. She is HIV positive,
and has no money or food for the baby.
So we get her into WC (White Chocolate), and started comforting her.
Erin, Kelly, Hannah, Kimi, Cori, and myself began to ask her questions
to try and take her mind off of the pain. Erin suggested that I sing to
her. So I sing. "You are the source of life, and I can't be left
behind.. no one else will do.. I will take hold of you. I need you
Jesus to come to my rescue. Tell me where else can I go? There is no
other name by which I am saved, you capture me with grace. I will
follow you." She was put at ease for a few moments.
The hospital was about 45 minutes away... and we were making good time.
Her contractions were getting closer and closer together. Kel started
to time them, and they were about 1 minute 45 seconds apart. Kimi
checked and said she wasn't that far along, and literally 30 seconds
later, I look down... and see half of the baby's head!
Every one screamed "THE BABY IS COMING!" and hardly even 10 seconds later.. the whole baby was out. It happened so fast!
Pastor Gift was yelling to us to shut the windows, and wrap the baby
up. We didn't have anything! Luckily, Hannah had decided to layer that
day (so fashionable, that girl). So she took off one of her shirts and
we wrapped the baby up.
A girl. A beautiful, beautiful baby girl.
I was crying. Bawling. Harder than the baby. It was the most beautiful... disgusting... thing I had ever seen.
Pastor Gift told us to get the baby to suck on something, so Cori stuck
her finger in the babies mouth, and she began to suck on it. Everything
was normal, the baby was healthy. Then Gamane's cousin grabbed my hands
and told me to help her push. We had to get everything else out of
her... the umbilical cord, the amniotic sac... (I will spare the gory
details for those that can not handle it).
It was insane.
We asked her what the baby's name is going to be, and she said that she
didn't know. Then she told us that we could name it for her. We all got
SO excited. We talked and prayed about it for a few minutes, and then
decided on HOPE... which is Litsimba in Siswati (the language here).
The reason behind it is obvious. We believe that there is hope for
her life. Hope for a NEW life, and that she is going to bring that Hope
to Swaziland. Gamane loved it.
A few minutes later, we pulled over on the side of the road. There was
no buildings around us, no people... just cows. A lot of mountains, and
a lot of cows.
We had a flat tire.
A young woman laying on the back seat of White Chocolate, fluids and
blood everywhere, a baby bundled up on the blanket, six girls who have
no idea what to do, and a flat tire.
And a lot of cows.
Pastor Gift changed the tire... with a tire that was even more flat
than the one that was on it before. We tried to flag a couple cars
down, but no one would stop.. so we did the only thing we could do.. we
drove. Welcome to Africa, friends.
From the moment we pulled out, you could see the lines from the rim of
the tire grinding into the asphalt. 15 minutes later, we arrived at the
hospital and handed them over to some professional care.
She is HIV positive, so she can not breastfeed. We walked to the store
and got some milk. Gamane asked who was singing to her in the car. I
told her that I was. She said that she didn't know what was going on
around her, and that all she could hear was the song, and that it
helped her through everything. I cried again. We prayed over Gamane and
Hope. We prayed for her little life... for God to invade her heart,
then said our goodbyes. We couldn't fix the tire, which was shredded at
this point, so we hitched a ride in the back of a truck and headed
home.
I was thinking about the beauty of life. The miracle that it is. And
then I was thinking about the tragedy of her situation. There were so
many thoughts... so many emotions. It was so beautiful, and so sad.
Pastor Gift is looking for a family to take care of the baby. They
may have found a home, but I ask that you all pray for Gamane and baby
Hope. God has a plan for her. And Gamane saw God's love through us in a
way she never had seen it before. I could see the glow of the spirit
all over her. Pray for redemption in her life.
I don't really understand it all. Life. Death. Struggles. Victory. Hardships.
But I do know... God... is in the midst of it. Of it ALL.
He was there. He is there. He sees Gamane. He sees Hope. He loves them. He has a plan. A purpose. He does for everyone.
We are blessed.
Because we are alive.
And we have Him.
I'm watching The Amazing Race as 12 teams set out on their 12 leg worldwide journey tonight. I can't help but notice the similarities as these teams grab their backpacks and fly out of LAX exactly 1 year after we flew out of the same airport beginning our own worldwide adventure.
1 year ago...I strapped 45 lbs of tent, sleeping bag, clothes (well, life actually) on my back, another 20 lbs of life essentials (you know, like an iPod and computer...essentials) on my front and picked up my 15 lb guitar, hoping I wouldn't regret lugging it all around the world. (I didn't.)
I checked in for my flight from Atlanta to LA and sat down to one last meal and goodbye with my parents. (Wendy's spicy chicken sandwich.)
I stood up to go through security, realized I couldn't find my passport and tried to stay calm as I decided this wasn't the best way to begin my trip. (While my mom went to check the bathroom, I found it in the tiniest pocket imaginable in my purse. I never put it there again. And I didn't lose it again either!)
I boarded my flight and had the last few hours of alone time I'd have for the entire year. I guess I wasn't technically alone since I was surrounded by other passengers, but you take what you can get.
I was ridiculously excited, a little nervous, and nowhere near prepared for everything I would experience this last year. From loving Rosario in the Philippines to gaining a sister named Lilly in China. From wrestling with faith in Uganda to fighting injustice in India, the Lord gave me glimpses of His heart. More than that, He began to give me pieces of His heart. His heart to lavish his love on all his children. His heart to set the captives free. His heart to bring life in every place of death.
And so somewhere along the way, I knew this trip was about much more than a year. It was about much more than an 11 month road trip. My eyes were opened and new places inside of me were woken up. And there is a whole generation out there longing for this Awakening, whether they know it or not.
So...what's next for me? Beginning in October, I'll be going on staff with the World Race to work with field support and training. Equipping my generation to continue pursuing the Lord and His Kingdom. Practically, that will mean moving to Michigan where there's a whole community of World Race alumni and traveling regularly to run Training Camps for squads getting ready to go on the field and overseas to encourage squads throughout their year. It will mean upgrading my Skype account to keep in touch with racers while they're on the field. It will mean using the gifts and passions the Lord has given me to mobilize this generation.
I'm super excited about this next step the Lord has shown me. I'll keep updating this blog and would love for you to keep praying for me as I transition into this new role. I will also continue to be raising support so if you'd like to support me financially, you can click on the 'Support Me!' link on the left. I cannot thank you enough for making this last year possible and for continuing to make it possible for me to serve the Lord in this way!
Yep, I added them up and I slept in 89 spots this year. I guess bed isn't really accurate because most of them were on the ground. That's not counting a couple overnight flights and bus rides. Since I've been home, I've slept in 4 already. Why stop?
We left San Jose, Costa Rica at about 9 am yesterday. After 1 bus, 2 planes, a shuttle and a church van, we pulled up in front of the house in Rome, GA at about midnight. When you factor in the time difference, it was only a 13 hour travel day. 13 hours that brought us screaming back to...home? ...reality? ...life? ...normalcy? Is this a dream or were the last 11 months?
I'm not really sure what normal is anymore. I've enjoyed flushing TP without having to wonder about the pipes. I got my Chick-Fil-A chicken sandwich. And we even celebrated a year's worth of holidays that I missed while traveling around the world! But I have to confess that I'm a little bit bored. I'm not exactly sure what to do with myself.
I'm excited to have the next month to begin processing everything that's happened over this past year and I'll be able to post some of that here. I'm also excited to let you all know what the Lord has next for me with the Race. Look for that info in the next couple of weeks.
In the meantime, I cannot thank you enough for all the ways you have supported me on this journey! I hope you know how much the Lord has used you to change the nations for Him. I can't wait to see you all and share stories with you in person!
In just a few minutes, we'll load up for our morning ministry. That means we'll grab a GIANT tub of rice and beans, some eggs and cheese and a cooler of some fruity drink or another. We'll pile everything into the back of a tiny pick up truck. And then we'll jump in ourselves. It's only about a 15 minute drive to the outskirts of town. But even before we get there, we can smell the smoke and burning trash. As we get closer we begin to see the piles of garbage. A little girl about 7 or 8 years old is walking down the road carrying a giant bag and stomping along in knee high, 2 inch heel boots that are bigger than she is.
Once we drive through the gate, we park the truck and find a nice tree to set up underneath. We pull out a table, set out the food and slowly, people start trickling into the line. They won't come until they've sorted through the entire truckload of trash that was just dropped off, afraid that if they leave, someone else will get the good stuff. Nearly 100 workers spend 6 days a week sorting trash, looking for something valuable, something that can be recycled, anything that can get them a little cash to feed their families.
And once they get in line, we serve them one scoop of rice and beans, one piece of cheese, a little bit of egg and a piece of bread.
The first time we went, I was scooping out rice and beans, trying to make sure each of my scoops was the same size. And as I scooped, I watched the faces of the people we were serving. Not one person complained about the amount of food. Not one person asked for a bigger piece of cheese. And when we ran out of eggs, nobody even commented. But when I noticed the eggs were gone, I started putting a little extra scoop of rice and beans onto their plates. And when I did, one man's eyes got big and he said something to our translator. I looked questioningly at him and he said, "He was surprised by the big portion."
And I was hit with this overwhelming wave of sadness.
Sadness that somehow I ended up deciding how much these people eat today. So we prayed for God to multiply the food and I started scooping a little more.
Sadness that when we stood in a circle to pray, the women were ashamed to hold my hand because theirs were dirty. And so I simply smiled at them, grabbed their hands anyway and held on tightly.
Sadness that when we leave, these people will go back to searching the trash for treasures. And so I walked over, picked up a plastic bottle covered in slime and flies, and started filling bags.
My heart aches for these people. But somewhere within the sadness, there is a glimmer of hope. Hope because this is not the end for these people. Hope because God has SO much for them. Hope because the Kingdom of God is alive and well here in Granada. And this is not home. Though their houses here on earth are shacks built on trash, they will have a mansion in heaven. We are not home yet. But we get to see a little piece of heaven right here to the dumps in Granada!
I don't speak much Spanish. I took classes in high school and college and some of the vocab has come back, but trying to put together a sentence? Forget it.
I've been working with some kids in an orphanage this past week. Kids who have been abandoned by their parents, kids who don't know what it means to own anything, kids who have forgotten what 'I love you' sounds like.
But I want them to remember. So I try to tell them. But half the time I end up saying, 'you love me' or 'I love me' or even 'you love you.' Which doesn't make any sense.
Since I don't speak much Spanish and they don't speak any English, we meet in the middle with a song called, 'Ole Le' (Oh lay lay). I'm not really sure what language it is or if we're actually singing words at all...but that's what makes it work. We start out real quiet, end up really loud and do a lot of silly dancing in between.
And they LOVE it. Now every time I walk into the orphanage 15 kids look at me and yell, 'Ole le!' We take turns leading and before I know it 'Ole le tiki tanga' has turned into 'Way way chimichanga' and two hours has gone by. My throat is hoarse, my shoulders are sore (apparently it's more fun to do on my shoulders), and sweat and sunscreen are combining forces to drip into my eyes and blind me.
But as I say adios (it's hard to mess that one up) I realize that maybe I didn't mess up 'I love you' after all.
Today it just sounds like 'Ole le.'
Here's some raw video footage of the day we taught them Ole Le from my friend, Ian Schumann.
The 'acht' in Gute Nacht sounds like you're hocking something out of your throat. You might think it's ok to be lazy and just fake it with an 'act' sound.
That would look something like this...
Gute Nackt.
Nackt = Naked
Gute Nackt = Good Naked
How many Germans did I naively come on to last month?
P.S. When searching for the correct German spelling of these words, you should not Google 'naked in German.' It could be embarassing.
2 days after our Real Life Kenya team hit African soil, they were given a few tents and sent into the bush with the Maasai tribe for a week. Their assignment? Door to door evangelism. (Well, maybe hut to hut is more accurate!)
I'm living in Port Huron, Michigan with a bunch of other crazy World Race alumni. We have a beautiful, cozy gingerbread house where I can see Canada from my window! There are currently 6 of us (and about to be 12 of us!) who live and work out of this great house. And we get to continue to live out this community lifestyle. I'm about to share a bathroom with 8 other girls! We bump into each other and things get messy (both figuratively and literally!), but at the end of the day, I'm surrounded by people who encourage me, who challenge me and who want more for me than I even want for myself. It's pretty awesome.
I
So...what's next for me? Beginning in October, I'll be going on staff with the World Race to work with field support and training. Equipping my generation to continue pursuing the Lord and His Kingdom. Practically, that will mean moving to Michigan where there's a whole community of World Race alumni and traveling regularly to run Training Camps for squads getting ready to go on the field and overseas to encourage squads throughout their year. It will mean upgrading my Skype account to keep in touch with racers while they're on the field. It will mean using the gifts and passions the Lord has given me to mobilize this generation.
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