Believing His Promise, Standing in the River

"I think that in guidance God deals with us as He dealt with the Israelites. The first crossing of the sea was made very easy, the guidance could not have been simpler. The strong east wind blew and divided the sea before the people had to cross; not a foot was wet, except perhaps by the driving spray.

But how different it was on the second occasion, when God taught them to obey without, as it were, making it first of all impossible to disobey. The priests has to stand still in the water of the river. What a sight for men to scoff at, that standing still in the water! But it was not till they obeyed- and, without a particle of visible proof that they were doing right, went on to carry the ark right into the river- that the water rolled back before them.

So, it seems to me, we may as we go on with God be called again and again to go right into our rivers, to wet our feet in them. We may be called to do what nobody understands but those to whom the word has come and the promise. But the word must come first and the promise too. We must be sure, with an inward conviction that absolutely nothing can shake."

-Taken from Amy Carmichael's writing compiled in Candles in the Dark.

Rain Again

As I write, it is thunderstorming away. I sat for a bit, enjoying the breeze coming in through the open windows and the lightning flashes peeking in through the curtains. And then I remembered an article I read while waiting in a doctor's office the other day. Rainy season, while bringing delight to me and growth to the many fruit and veggie plants in our yard, brings with it what I can only imagine is fear and discouragement for many. Especially those who live in John Laing compound- one of the poorest in the city; one that does not have any sort of functioning drainage system. A storm like tonight, for so many, only means the beginning of a season of sickness and death; all beginning as the water stagnates, the refuse overflows, and the germs infect.


UNICEF reports that over 5000 children die there every year from diarrhea. Cholera abounds. Malaria proliferates. Can you imagine what it must feel like to be a mother living with her children in John Laing? Attempting to keep some semblance of normalcy even though you practically need a small boat to get to the market everyday? Trying to protect your children from whatever lives in the 1.5 meter deep pool of water that has now overflown your house? Watching your child waste away into nothing but a memory? I really can't imagine.

Next time it rains, won't you pray with me for them? Lord, give those mothers peace tonight. Protect their little ones. Comfort the ones who are already sick. Be near to the ones who are left to mourn. In all of it- may you receive all the glory, O Father.

It Rained.

It was ridiculously hot this morning, and after sweating through an otherwise lovely worship service- we came out to find the clouds rolling in. By afternoon, it was drizzling. And this evening, it rained. Thunder, lightning, and lots of rain.

I've unpacked my raincoat and boots and am excited to see what the Lord brings in this new season...

One of Those Mornings

Normally, I am excited to get out of bed to a crazy day of life here in Zambia. This morning, however, was not really one of those mornings. Today, I stayed in bed a bit longer, read a couple more chapters of my Bible, and prayed with a little more mmph.

Last night, my sister was crowned Homecoming Queen at Virginia Tech. She worked her butt off campaigning (as did so many of her friends) and it all came together into what I'm sure was a moment of incredible surreality- her name being called in front of thousands.

Those thousands, however, did not include me. I didn't get to be there for any of it.

Hence, one of those mornings.

It doesn't have me doubting being here, nor the work I do here. It does not have me questioning God's plan, nor the fact that it involves me being so far away from people like my beloved sister. It simply reminds me of the cost. In Scripture, we read over and over again that following Jesus costs you everything- nothing short of your entire life. I'm starting to realize, though, that it's in the adding up of the little things that one really begins to understand what 'everything' really means. It means a quick trip down to Blacksburg just to be there for the kick-off of the campaign. It means standing with your mom as you wave frantically at your sister's car in homecoming parade. It means being there for a beautiful moment of your sister's life, when God's glory is shining through her before tens of thousands of people. These are all a part of the 'everything' it costs me to follow Jesus and His plan for my life.

And so, one of those mornings indeed. When a little more energy and a lot more grace is needed to thank God for another opportunity to give my life to Him. When a little more perspective and a lot more vision is needed to praise God for another day to serve Him here in Zambia. And most characteristic of this morning- when it feels a bit easier to just fall at His feet and plead with Him for the strength needed to do it all.

I Like Nuns.

Sister Ermenia. She is in my language class- from Italy, barely speaks English, and is learning Nyanja in order to better serve her patients at the main hospital in a southern border town. She is clearing working so hard to get this language down, and simultaneously itching to get back to her ministry. When asked by a classmate how she was doing, she simply replied 'I want a scalpel and to get back to the theater' (Zambian phrase for an OR). The town where she works is known to be a rough place, where truckers en-route from Zimbabwe to Zambia await customs clearing. From what I have heard, there is no lack of sex-workers and mowa (alcohol) in this town, and so it would seem Sister Ermenia has plenty of good reasons to get back to work.

Then, there is Sister Mariola, who runs a children's home here in Lusaka. She has been doing so for 27 years, and so clearly loves each child living there- as do all of the Polish Sisters who work there with her. They have developed an incredible program- counseling and strengthening families so that children can remain at home, working out caring foster situations with relatives, and then taking the children who have nowhere else to go. They don't turn anyone away...not even kids who have disabilities. She clearly won the heart of Sam, Maggie, and Mollie when we visited last week- her wit and charm proved a magnet for all three of them. Sam even snuck in a few good hugs and a couple smooches on the cheek before we left.

And though I don't fully know or understand what they believe or the commitment they have made- the actions of these two women have shown to me the beauty of a life given to God. In the caring for of patients with HIV in a dangerous African border town, and in the taking in of hundreds of orphaned and sick children, they both have spurred me on in the giving away of my life for the sake of the poor. Another fav nun of mine once said...

'Let us touch the dying, the poor, the lonely and the unwanted according to the graces we have received and let us not be ashamed or slow to do the humble work.'
-Mother Teresa

For those of you who think nuns to be historic relics of some past age- I've got news for you- they're not, and they are gettin' things done in the name of Jesus. I only hope to get to meet and know more of them, and to be continually challenged by the lives they live for others, and more importantly, the lives they don't live for themselves.

Mphunzitsi akukuitanani.

This phrase is problematic for numerous reasons:

1. It has way too many syllables. How in the world am I going to remember all of them, and in the right order so that I could ever use it in a conversation? It's just not gonna happen...

2. It means 'The teacher is calling on you.' If anyone were to actually say this phrase to me, it would take at least 5 minutes to sort through all the syllables in order to know that the teacher was, indeed talking to me.

3. What if the teacher really is calling on me?? What did he say? What will I say in response? What if I don't know and he says back to me 'Sindingathe kukuthandiza.' (I cannot help you.) I will surely be lost forever in an ever-deepening pit of syllabic doom.

Please pray (or should I say zikomo, pempherani)- week two of Nyanja classes is proving to be much more difficult than last. My guess is that it only goes up (in difficulty, that is) from here.

A Proud Big Sister

As if her cuteness wasn't enough to be proud of...


...my sister is campaigning for Homecoming Queen this week at Virginia Tech. She is representing Campus Crusade for Christ (each member of HC court is sponsored by a student organization), and therefore she is getting to share the testimony of God's work in her life in all sorts of new, different, and BIG ways. You can check it out on her really cool website- The Daily Bailey (http://thedailybailey.net)- I would definitely recommend the post titled "How did you get involved with Cru?"












It was so fun to have her here with us this summer, workin Special Hope like a champ (that's her on the right)...















...but it is also so fun to watch God use her to love people in her Bible studies, sorority, and campus. It's also particularly fun for me to watch her care for orphans around the world...




in Nicaragua...
























and here in Zambia.























I can only imagine all God will do with this precious girl. Whatever it is, I'm excited to have a front row seat.