The fault in loving It

It romanced me. 

It made me heart sing when days looked dreary. 

It told me that this season would come to an end.

It brought my joy and strength when my heart was weary. 

It became my hope, and my friend. 

It became an escape when things got tough. 

It held me on nights when I wanted to give up. 

It was so excited. 

It loved to dream with me. 

It wasn’t mine to hold just yet.

But It brought me a glittery, itching feeling of what’s ahead. 

And I couldn’t wait for the day until we really met. 

It finally came. 

And I took It’s hand. 

I sang, I jumped, I screamed, I danced, and

There were a few days when I was off in la-la land. 

Then we disagreed, 

It took a lot of my time and effort, 

And I found out that It was hard to please.

Those nights of the past when I used to lay in my bed,

Alone or scared or tired of pressing on, 

Wandering when I would meet It,

Dreaming with joy of our time together, 

Knowing that we would be singing a brand new, beautiful song, 

Now seemed so far off, 

As I lay there alone, scared and tired of pressing on,

Is this really IT?! 

It couldn’t comfort me any longer,

Because I was giving It all that I had, 

And It took a lot of work, 

Gone were the nights of dreaming and romanticizing. 

It lost it’s glitter, 

It lost it’s shine, 

I didn’t know if I wanted It any longer to be mine? 

I had given It all that I had, 

I had allowed It to comfort me, 

It had been my wild adventure, 

It had been a whisper of a promise that became a fantasy, 

And now It was leaving, 

It had now come to fruition. 

All those days and night that my head was lost in romance, 

All of those hopes and dreams and visions of how wonderful It would be…

And then It was gone, It had to come and to go, 

And I thought to myself, was that IT? 

And I realized that my love for It had taken me from a very important “We”. 

Yet He called me back to His side and pulled me in close, 

“It can be better, when you’re fully in love with Me.” 

When you’re watching God’s promises unfold before your eyes, you are quick to realize the fault of what happens when you love a promise and not the Savior. What has been a labour of belief as you wait for the promise to come to fruition, becomes a labour of love, obedience, selfless sacrifice and hard work when you are living in that promise. 

The promise is not wild. The promise is not romantic. The promise will not fulfill you. The promises will not be as great as you think it will be. 

Jesus is wild. Daddy God is pouring love out on us. The Holy Spirit fills us. God is ever greater than we can ever imagine Him to be. 

Promises are spoken for the future. We are living in promises today. We all have promises that have been fulfilled already. Through it all, we have an ever-present God. 

Let’s give HIM all of our love today.

I hated it

I was twenty-two when we first brought them home. I hated it. I didn’t like little hands knocking on my window at 5 am, and I certainly didn’t like loud voices waking me up arguing in the middle of the night. I didn’t like all the time that I felt obligated to spend with them, and I really detested all the time I spent giving out punishments. I didn’t like the constant fear gripping me that one was going to run away and we were going to fail. I hated even more thinking about how much it would hurt me if they left, because I loved them. I didn’t like how tormented I was replaying conversations with critics and voices of scorn in my head. I didn’t like the pressure I felt to perform well. I hated how stuck I felt. 

The thing I hated the most was every time I looked at God, He was smiling! Smiling as I suffered, smiling as I lay awake at night letting stress toss my mind to and fro, smiling as I sat in three hour long disciplinary meetings with kids trying to make them understand that life in our home, even when they have a punishment, is better than life on the streets. 

See, He was smiling as he began bestowing blessings on us. He was cheering us on as we learned how to lay down our lives for our friends. He rejoiced every time my face hit the floor, weeping in fervent prayer - as I built a foundation of trust. He was thankful for every ‘yes’ we had given Him. He delighted in my loneliness as He and I learned how to be friends. He laughed as any parent would watching their small child try to pick up something that is entirely too heavy for their chunky, tiny, toddler arms; and His heart leapt for joy when He heard me say “Daddy, come help me.” 

I’ve learned to delight in the months of having a foggy head. I’ve learned to rejoice when my questions tally up higher than my reasons to praise. I’ve learned to laugh when I realize that I’m trying to move something on my own strength. I’ve learned to be thankful for countless seasons of suffering, because there’s always an unidentifiable point that you begin to count those seasons, not of suffering, but of abundant growth. And I smile, because God has taught me to see every single one of those children for what they are - a blessing to me - worth waiting on, worth laboring for, and really worth getting rid of me. 

He and They

He doesn't let the smaller one leave for school until he has fixed his collar, quizzed him on his homework, and given him a gentle shove out the door.  He is a man of excellence.
He doesn't let that aunt that he loves out of his sight, as they trek their three mile morning run. He is a protector. He holds the one that is enduring a punishment and tells him "Even me, I've had so many punishments before. Punishments don't mean that we don't love you."  He is a peacemaker. He leads our family in worship every Saturday night.  He is a strong tower. He doesn't like serving at the street programs with the street kids, but God is telling him to go, and so he goes. He is faithful. He is always a "yes" when it comes to helping others, no matter what it costs him. He is a servant.

There are many beautiful "he's" that make up this home of "they."

They are inexplainable. They don't care that seven year olds aren't supposed to play with eighteen year olds, they play. They share clothes, laughs, dreams, and living quarters. They school together, go to church together, work together, serve together, and are silly together. They don't have a system of who owes who what. They give and they take. They love and they are loved.  They define fellowship. They define family. They define community.

They are world changers. They are dreamers. They are shedding glory all over this home every day as they simply do life together with an excellence that God himself delights in.

They have taught me how to love, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

Doors Christmas Wish List

Excuses

I was looking for a way to get this kid out of our house. 

There are little moments like on the first night when his stomach is full and he realizes he gets to sleep in a bed, that he runs up to me and almost knocks me down. He wrapped his arms around me and began to jump up down, overwhelmed, saying “Thank you, Aunt! Thank you, Aunt! Thank you, Aunt!” Despite the huge smile on his face, his eyes were filled with tears. 

Those are the moments that everybody imagines when you bring a child home whose been sleeping on the sidewalk, waiting from the trash, and invisibly walking around the city being surpassed by thousands of people.

The truth of the matter is, those moments are far and few. It’s hard to see children shaking as addictions wane. It’s harder to love them as they quarrel and lie and chase other children around with sharp objects. It’s hard to break a lifestyle of shouting, fighting, and stealing. It’s hard to lose a mentality of “Nobody cares for me and the whole world is out to get me.” 

It’s hard not to blame that child for disturbing and disrupting your home that has been so unified and in tact for such a long time. It’s like having toddlers in the home, who know how to walk and talk but you have to watch their every move. 

The first two weeks we brought him home, I kept thinking, “We can just make a recommendation to another organization to take him because these other organizations can help this boy better than we can right now.”

Translation: Let’s make him somebody else’s problem and we can go back to our happy, quiet, peaceful life.

God so gently reminded me, “I didn’t make him somebody else’s problem, I brought him here.” 

As a staff, He was calling us to fully fight for this kid. I had been looking for an excuse to get out of the fight. 

Two weeks later, I’m still tired. He’s still shaking. I watch him fervently pray every night before he goes to sleep that God will protect him throughout the night, and I’m spending most of my nights being woken up and comforting a child who is wrecked by nightmares. I’m touched as the very boys he was quarreling with two weeks ago, open up their arms to him every night. He climbs into bed with these boys that are younger than he is and they hold him as he falls asleep. 

Meekness now envelops his character. Being loved, envelops his heart. 

There’s still a long way to go, but who doesn’t have a long way to go? The message has been made very loud and clear to me, He’s worth fighting for. 

Really, who isn’t worth fighting for? 

Excuses contaminate our belief. We can always always always find a logical excuse (but we usually call them reasons) of getting out of doing God’s will. 

I’ve learned a hard lesson the past few years (still learning), that any time I really want to get out of somewhere, that’s usually where God is calling me to hunker down and fight. God does not give a spirit of flee-dom, to where we’ve fled from problems, people, or places our whole lives and now our paths are covered by places that we’ve fled from and we’re scared to return to, due to unfinished business that we ran away from. 

He calls us to meet those people, places, and problems head on; armed with love, strengthened with joy, and resting in Him. To fight fully for the Kingdom, is to be loved fully by the King. 

How Was Your Trip?

Imagine it- You hear the airplane pilot's calm voice over the speaker system declare that you are only 20 minutes from your final destination, a brief weather update, and current time.  A few things might be going through your mind right about now… Will my family be on time to pick me up?  Should I stop at the Starbucks in the airport or just wait until tomorrow?  What do I want for dinner tonight?!  The possibilities are endless…  I'll be in a real bed tonight…

Truth is, you're actually too jet lagged and overwhelmed to make any sound decision, whether it be latte choice or food choice.

You have just arrived home from your _______ (insert time- days, months, years) in ____________ (insert country).

Many of you who read this blog and follow Doors Ministries have lived and worked with us. You also understand these above thoughts and emotions quite well.  Let's be real, most people who have stepped through the front door of our house in Uganda have had to step out and get on a plane back to America.  In fact, the largest population of missionaries are ex-missionaries (I know I know, you are never really out of the mission field, but for the sake of this conversation, I'm making a distinction.)

I came back to America on December 28th, 2013.  I had been living and breathing life in Uganda for about 2 1/2 years, and at that moment I found myself landing back in America for an undetermined amount of time.  If you would have asked me to imagine my past 2 1/2 years in Uganda, it wouldn't even come close to the reality of it all.  Traveling their with Mallory and two other good friends, realizing after 3 months that God was stirring in our hearts to walk in the impossible task He was putting before us, being scared out of our minds, looking up return flights to America just in case we totally bombed, extending our plane tickets a year, starting the boys home, starting the school, starting the women's ministry, opening the nurses office…. In the path of all this we meet friends that we will be forever bonded with in soul, we almost fail in all areas of ministry multiple times, Mallory and I almost lose our friendship, we lose sight of Jesus as the forefront of our ministry and lives. It has all been glorious, and gloriously hard.  But, as 22 year olds, fresh out of university, we had it coming.  Those mistakes and trials do not stop the incredible growth of our boys and Doors volunteers, our faults do not hinder the growth of the school, and the women's ministry is literally bursting at the seams of the building.  We experienced and understood why God truly does call the small to do the great and impossible things- It's easier for Him to take over.

So here I am, on this plane, about to land in Nashville, TN.  Amazed by the grace, love, and power of God in every part of Doors Ministries, in every facet of my life, in every trial that we faced, in every mountain top and valley we ever walked through.

If you have lived overseas, you have your God story, your trials, your mistakes, your path, your lessons, your people.  It has all been very real and now as you land in your familiar, now not-so-familiar home, you aren't sure how any thing, any place, any people, any circumstance could ever compare with the past _________ of your life in ________.

You're home for a few weeks stumbling through your every day, trying to figure out how Walmart works again, and why there are so many choices of EVERYTHING, you keep having to remind yourself to drive on the RIGHT side of the road, you have accidentally spoken in Luganda to a few of your black friends, and if you're anything like me you have spent some significant time weeping.

And then it happens.  You run into that friend or family member in a store or at church and they commit the most unspeakable atrocity against you… they ask- "How was your trip?" You aren't sure what to do or say at this point… do you run out of the room crying, do you stand up on a chair and exclaim to everyone around how amazing and hard and deep the past ________ of your life has actually been, do you let this person have it and shove a Shane Claiborne book down their throat, or do you just say- "it was awesome" and walk away.

This is just one example of what I have seen "ex-missionaries" go bonkers about.  We could go on and on about our opinions on mega churches, Starbucks, upper-middle class society, AMERICA, etc… I'm not judging you, seriously, the only reason I am able to write about this stuff is because I've been the worst of the worst.  Your emotions and thought provoking questions about how to live life as a Christ follower are REAL and they should be asked.  These are things that we should WRESTLE with once we have spent time with the poor and the hurting.  That "trip" you went on should forever change YOU.

Did that person who asked how your trip was really commit a horrible crime against you?

NO.

Are your friends and family shallow when they can't fully comprehend the life you just lived?

NO.

Will community ever be the same as it was for you on the "mission field?"

Maybe not.

Are you being shallow, close minded, and high maintenance when you judge others?

YES.

I wasn't sure how to write on the Doors blog anymore.  I wasn't sure how the stories of street kids or single moms could still be propelled from my American point of view.  But I think I know now.  I think that Satan doesn't give a flip that we lived in _________ for ________.  I don't think he is too concerned with our experiences and the hard lessons learned.  You know what he is afraid of?  He is afraid that the light will get out in your current position in your current location.  He is afraid that instead of being bitter and distraught over your relocation back home that you will dive deeper into God's plan over your life.  The enemy wants judgement and bitterness and sympathy for yourself to overtake the joy, and passion, and forgiveness.

I can't forget what I've seen, what I've tasted and heard in Uganda.  I'm not the same and I never will be.  I don't compare America to Uganda anymore.  It's not the same place, and the people here are different, with different experiences.  The thing is, Jesus is the same.

  Jesus is the same.  

He has the same power, the same love, and the same passion for His children to know and believe and experience Him.  Don't waste another second on judgement or bitterness or comparison.

Each of us has an adventure before us today.  Whether you are on a dirt road in Uganda or whether you are in front of a computer screen in America with a picture on your desk of that child who forever wrecked your life.  Your adventure yesterday can't be the adventure of today.

The question still stands-

How was your trip?

Did your trip paralyze you or did your trip set your heart so on fire that with every new step the world burns with passion for Jesus and His Kingdom come?

Irene

For the 2014 school year Doors was very fortunate to find Irene Lwanga.  Irene is a graduate of Africa Renewal University with a degree in Social Work and Counseling.  Each week she combines her degree and gifts from the Lord to counseling and encourages our students, women’s ministry, and parents.  As a young wife and mother she is able to relate, connect, and disciple all aspects of the schools clients.  We have all been blessed by Irene’s passion to serve and commitment and care that she shows to all.

When asked why she likes working for Doors, her contribution was a bit more than we expected.... 

Why do you like working with Doors Ministries?

Ø  It is a ministry. Doors has given me a chance to serve the DOORS Community and God. All the work I do puts God first.

Ø  Doors is a family. I look at it as a big family bringing us all together, pupils, teachers, and women. A family that cares for each and everybody. I entered into this big family where everyone is known by name from the youngest to the eldest. Everybody knows where the everybody lives.  Teacher Angela knows where each child stays and every detail of their family. To me, I feel this is where I belong. I felt loved and cared for when I recently gave birth, DOORS visited me and made me a card with lovely messages. It encouraged and gave me joy that I belong somewhere.

Ø  It is a transformation centre where people are transformed, so I want to be part of the group that is transforming society.

Ø  I love working at DOORS because children are supported in education, health and spiritual matters, which moves me to support them in psychological matters, career guidance, hygiene, adolescent counseling, help them make smart choices, spiritual counseling and others. Doors know that education alone cannot create good citizens but also counseling. That is why I like working with them, other schools in Uganda have not realized the need for counseling

Ø  I like working at DOORS because it has challenged me spiritually. It has put me on fire again for Christ. The different prayer requests I receive from the women’s ministry have made me re-organize my prayer time and Bible study time  I now pray more and study the Bible more, because I have to teach every Thursday and to counsel those with spiritual and psycho social issues.

Ø  I like working at Doors because my counseling services, with education and prayer will produce good performance.

Ø  My work at Doors is a fulfillment of what God has called me to do. I received a prophetic message from God calling me to be a counselor for the youths, married couples, and women. It took me 10 years to prepare for this. Soon I am going for a masters degree. 

Ø  DOORS pays me so am able to help my family somehow, thus I love working at Doors.

What are you passionate about? 

-Helping people make right decisions. I do this by creating a relationships with them. Through this I can know what they believe in and help them make right decisions.

Ø  I am passionate about seeing people live a happy, peaceful life. I know that people struggle to get essentials in life, but there is a chance to struggle with a peaceful heart knowing that the situation there in will change for the better. I have practically decided to sponsor a child in Gulu for two years under ARMS sponsorship program.

Ø  I am passionate about letting people know we are powerless, everything is about Christ. There is nothing we can do without Him. Everything begins and ends with God.

Ø  I love comedy. I love to be happy and to be with happy people. I feel so bad when a group of people around me are sad, have tough faces, or do not want to smile or laugh. I feel comfortable when someone smiles at me.

Ø  I want to be a caring friend.

Ø  I am passionate about my marriage/family. I want my home to be the safest, peaceful place for everyone. I am unfriendly to anyone who disrespects this.

Ø  I love cooking good food

Ø  I like adventuring

Sponsorship Qualms

I’m having a battle with sponsorship. And I share all of this not desiring to start a war…  

The battle has been ongoing for awhile. I’ve been a sponsor. I’ve seen the beauty in having a name and face posted on your refrigerator that signifies where your monthly check is going to. It makes it personal. You see where your X amount of dollars each month is going to help feed, educate, clothe, and provide medical care a child who really needs it. You sow each month and you get to see the fruit being grown. None of that is my issue. I totally relate and agree with sponsors that sponsorship is affirming and has many beneficial points to it. We have reaped greatly from sponsorship as an organization. Sponsors have shared with me how they see and respond to God as they give, and the children share about how they see God in each stranger who they begin to consider as family that sponsors them. 

My battle just epitomized as I sit here working on Doors’ July newsletter. We’re changing things up a bit in our style and monthly communication. I’ve been valiantly attempting to write a short one paragraph blurb for many days now, about a child in our home who doesn’t have any of his sponsorships currently filled. I rewrote it too many times to count, because each time I wrote it, I sounded like I was trying to sell this child. 

I finally sat back and I prayed, “God, I want Your words to be my words. I don’t think you want me to try and sell this child.” 

My next thought quickly followed my prayer, ‘Selling children is human trafficking.’ I do not want to exploit (derive benefit from) any child. 

Children make difficult products. If I were to write a blurb saying how this child is the most passionate and fearless child I’ve ever met, and that everything that he puts his hand to, he excels greatly….that would be accurate. However, every parent in the world knows that in between those sentences there should also be: “This child doesn’t sit still for more then four minutes, occasionally back-talks the people who care for him, always refuses to the dishes, and is more stubborn than a mule.” 

I’m thankful that sponsorship isn’t merely a call to buy a good and perfect product. It can not be a part of your paycheck that we merely need to sustain what we are doing and so we put cute faces on pamphlets to try and get your money.  

Sponsorship is a call to come and build with us. 

The truth is that all of the children in our home and in our school have issues. But let’s face it…who doesn’t? Our heart behind sponsorship is that we don’t have to advertise to any person how perfect are children are, or how desperately in need our children are.  Our hope is that beyond a face, you will see a multi-faceted God who takes more care and ownership over that child than we ever could. A God who is sowing seeds in and all around that child, because His greatest desire is to love him or her. We serve a God of redemption, and I am blessed to look upon His redemption in my own life and in the many others around me, every day. 

We pray that our sponsors see that we are building alongside the greatest Maker. We pray that our sponsors’ hearts don’t break over a child who used to be hungry, homeless, or needy - but rejoice alongside of ours, and alongside the Almighty’s about His love for that child. We pray that a song of praise can’t help but burst out of all of us as we look upon the work of our Maker, and we eagerly long to join Him in the redemptive process. 

His picket fence

His picket fence? Has anybody ever wondered about the funny name for this blog?

It started with two soul sister best friends (Yes, there are actually two people who write on this blog. One of us just tends to write more nowadays than the other). We were about to graduate college and were dealing with the normal questions society throws at people of that age: 

“What do you want to do with your life?” 

“Do you have a job?” 

“Where are you going to live?” 

“Wait…you’re going to Africa? ….. Well, do you have a job lined up for when you get back? How are you ever going to get married? So are you just going to beg people for money and live off of that for the rest of your life?” 

We had a desire not to settle. It was a desire not to go except for where our sweet Jesus was whispering, “follow me.” It was not a desire to bash the American dream of a perfect home, a white picket fence, two and a half kids, and a dog - because all of that is fine, if that is where Jesus is calling you. And it was not a desire to get rid of everything we own and move into a mud hut and never eat cheeseburgers again. 

It was a desire to build our homes in the Kingdom - to be inside His picket fence, His perfect plan, His heart desires, and to embrace that whole heartedly. 

It was a desire to be poor. The poor are desperate.  

I’ve learned a lot from my poor friends. Lessons that I could write one thousand blogs about, but there’s one that is really burning in my mind right now.  

I’ve learned that their desperation leads to life, and comfortability equals death. If they are not desperate to survive, they will not. 

The poor are desperate. 

I recently spent some time in the United States and had several conversations that went something like this:

“I love your bag!” - Mallory 

“Thank you so much! I got it…..(the sinking realization on somebody’s face that I live in Africa cuts them off, and their excitement dwindles and a nonchalant, somber face ensues)…..on sale. I would have never spent that much money on it, but I really needed a new bag….” -Friend

…and then they would follow the fifteen new reasons why they needed a new bag. I had people apologizing to me about how much money they were spending on meals or clothes or activities. 

My brothers and sisters….if only you knew… 

I make coffee every morning in a french press.

I work every day on a brand-spanking new laptop.

And I spend too much time on Facebook. 

I have the utmost delight in living where I live. 

I do not embrace poverty. I do not reject riches. I think it’s beautiful and from the Lord that many believers are seeking how it is right for them to live in a country that is so wealthy. However, I think we need to surrender our actions. 

We can not be desperate to have riches, and we can not be desperate to be poor. We can not make a ‘correct’ pattern for life and expect that to shape our hearts and minds. 

We have to be desperate for Jesus. A desperation for Jesus will keep us seeking our daily bread. Daily bread that feeds our souls and ‘makes our cup runneth over’. A desperation that forces us to embody humility, and humility is irresistible to the Holy Spirit. Desperation beckons the Holy Spirit into our hearts and then our minds, our actions, and our lives will reflect a desperation for Jesus. Our actions will be molded out of an overflow of our hearts.

A desperation for Jesus may have me living in a home with a bunch of former hood-rats that bring me more joy than a world of accessibility ever could. A desperation for Jesus may have you living in a house much bigger than you could have ever imagined with a job that pays ten times more than what you ever needed. 

It should look different on each person, or else we would all be doing the exact same thing. It’s our hearts behind these actions that should look the same. 

Desperate. Poor in worldly dreams, worldly emotions, and worldly sacrifices. Poor because there is nothing on this earth that we truly have taken hold of, apart from Jesus. 

Being poor is a posture of the heart that is completely dependent and yielded to Jesus. That’s who He welcomes inside His fence. Those are the children who are building in the Kingdom.

“Blessed are the poor in Spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” - Matthew 5 

Belly Shirts

The taste of chocolate is still lingering in my mouth as I write this.

About fifteen minutes ago, I pulled into our “driveway,” ignored most of the children calling my name, flung open my bedroom door, and announced to my roommate that I was going to eat my chocolate bar and then get on the floor and cry.

I ate the chocolate and lay down.

Those tears that had been swimming in my eyes for the past 2 hours waiting for the dam to open so they can explode down my face were suddenly refusing to come.

I sat there for a bit. I rolled over. I put my arms across my face. I stared at the ceiling. However, it wasn’t until I started dwelling on every negative emotion I had in me and why I had it, until that soft Spirit voice spoke to me.

“Mallory, you can sit here and you can over-think about every reason why you are upset, angry, mad, and frustrated until you reach the point where you will cry…..or you can praise Me – it’s a much more peaceful option.”

Most of you who read this blog know me. If you don’t – I’m a tall lady. (6 feet and ½ inch)  My parents had a particular challenge with me when I was growing up. Pretty much every major season change, none of Mallory’s clothes fit her anymore.

At the beginning of summer you could find me putting on dresses that now were as short as shirts, and if belly shirts had been a trend for 8 year olds I would have been “in.” Fall brought jeans that brought confused looks from people as they tried to decipher whether I was wearing long pants or capris. Winter also came with mittens that only covered half of my hand, and the fluffy, warm winter coat we had bought last year was the first to hit the goodwill pile. Jean shorts that never would have passed the school fingertip length for dress code always plagued my Springs, as the warm weather called for us to lose some layers.

From the time I can remember until that glorious year in high school when I stopped growing, every season that I remember found me putting 7/8 of my clothes in the Goodwill bag. That 1/8 that remained was always bound to be something horrific that obviously was not socially acceptable to wear anymore. Yet until I could replenish my closet (i.e. until my parents helped me replenish my closet), I was stuck in horribly ugly, definitely not matching, well-worn clothes, that were pushing the line to be put in the Goodwill pile anyway but I couldn’t walk around naked and my mom made me keep them to cover my butt.

It’s hard to have a child that grows all the time. I could mention the feet that were 5 sizes too big for the body or that awkward class picture where you always knew where your spot was, but I think I will save those for another blog.

Today as I refused to cry in front of the kids in the car, I had all kinds of funny thoughts.

“I’m tired of living this way!!!!!!!” was the dominant one as I stormed out of the ATM empty-handed for the third day in a row.

“Living which way? By faith?”

Gut check.

That apparently didn’t do the trick, because I still marinated in the rage, frustration, and doubt all the way home. It wasn’t until I was staring at a really ugly ceiling, willing my tear ducts to produce something to run down my face, probably making faces similar to that of somebody who is constipated, that I relented to this mighty call to Praise Him.

Mr. Fear peaced out real quick.

Followed by Mr. Rage and Mr. Worry.

Doors Ministries. I don’t have words. I am honored to be a part of it. I love being surrounded by this heavy weight of God’s glory every day. But we are a growing baby.  Each season finds us scantily clothed, looking to our Daddy for new provision. Sometimes it’s hard to continuously be growing, because we have to be continuously shopping for “new clothes.” For me, I have to fight to keep my praise during all this growth. As a ministry, we have to choose to praise, rather than worry, doubt, or live in fear. If I had succumbed to those negative emotions, I would still be in a pit of tears, snot, and chocolate slobber right now, instead of humbly asking for your help.

Doors has many needs right now – staring us blatantly in the face.

1. We are in need of classroom sponsors for our school. Our classroom sponsorships keep kids in a Godly classroom environment, while also providing them with 2 meals a day, and helping pay our teacher’s salaries. Our school is the main place where we struggle financially each month – it’s hard to keep food in front of the ninety children and employ our ten teachers without the help of classroom sponsorships. If you would like more information or have any questions, doorssponsorship@gmail.com is the place for you to go.

2. Because we lack classroom sponsorships, we are currently doing a fundraiser to help meet the gaps of need for the school. We are trying to raise $4500 to cover the first month of school expenses. There’s many different ways and places you can contribute to through the link below.

http://www.gofundme.com/8wuark

3. Five of the boys in our home are lacking sponsors. This is a big number for us, because it’s almost half of our kids! We’ve been so thankful and blessed by our current sponsors and donations that keep our home running. doorssponsorship@gmail.com is where you should inquire if you would like more information on building a relationship with a former street child and helping them grow in the knowledge and wisdom of what a life walking with Christ is!

We need givers. We need fighters. We need praise warriors. We don’t need pity. There may be a very tiny amount in our bank account right now – but there’s a big praise in our hearts.

We live by faith.

Pity lives by chocolate bars and tears.

He is more than words can ever say – let’s REJOICE today!

What about this one?

See that green gate straight ahead.

That’s ours.

(Yeah, the one that when you look closely, it kind of looks like a murder scene, with the smeared red paint all over it. For once - it wasn’t the children painting on something they shouldn’t – it was the landlord! And I’m not really sure what he was planning for that one, but I’m hoping the reason we have doodles on our gate is simply because the paint ran out).

Behind that gate is a large compound, twenty beds, piles of stinky shoes, a charcoal stove that almost always has a pot of beans boiling on it, and 13 boys who proudly put on Doors t-shirts every day as they go to school, eat 3 meals a day, play football, dance their hearts out, worship endlessly, and sleep each night under a roof.

Now I’d like you to direct your eyes to that big, rusty, red box on the right side of the picture. In Uganda, we call this a container. Containers usually make a home in Uganda after they’ve brought some sort of imported goods or shipments of donations. This one lives at the end of our driveway. This particular container is empty, but here you can find people living in containers, having workshops in containers, or even making restaurants out of these containers (they get creative!).

This rusty red container usually serves no great purpose. But in the past few months, it has become significant in my eyes. It started when I was on my way home one night and it was around 11pm. Most of Ggaba was already asleep. As the car’s lights hit the container, I saw the feet underneath the container.

Three pairs of dirty, beat up, cut, calloused, and fat feet.

Street kids.

They’re feet are easy to distinguish them by – not many people walk the amount that these kids do, in the places they do, without shoes.

The three children had wedged themselves between the container and the ground and were fast asleep.

I froze.

Mallory wants to pick them up, take them to that gate that’s 10 yards away, clean em up, feed them, and let them sleep.

Unfortunately, it’s not that easy. And I had to drive by reluctantly. I began asking around, very discreetly too. I wasn’t ready to find every boy in Ggaba dressed up like a street kid sleeping outside of our gate the next night.

They are young. The oldest one is 8. They’ve never been to the city, which is good, because that means they are sober. And it’s now been a month or two since I’ve started asking my questions, trying to get the truth of their stories.

I watch the man who sells scrap at the end of our street, who occasionally lets them sleep among the piles of scrap metal.

I hear from the bar tender at the corner a daily update of where they slept the night before, as she lets them come in in the morning and pick up the bottles to go and sell.

There’s a woman who sells vegetables outside of our house. She’s at work at 7am with her baby, leaving every night at 11pm. She struggles. Today I watched her split what little food she and her son had, with Joab, one of the boys. 

I’m watching them, and they are all looking at me.

And I do nothing.

Because behind that gate- there are no empty stomachs, and people are busting out of our home. There is no empty bed, and there are thirteen boys who used to sleep on the sidewalks of Kampala in rice sacks.

It’s kind of ironic. Nobody has told them that the boys that pass them and bring them food everyday used to be in their situation.

Because they’ve seen me do nothing, and they don’t want to get their hopes up.

I’ve searched my mind. I’ve prayed. But I’m not sure that I’m ready to turn our living room into another bedroom.

I feel like I should be able to do something, and as I watch my neighbors give what little they have to the boys, I feel them all looking at me. “Don’t you have a home that helps these children?” It’s the unspoken question.

I don’t know what to do. And I think that’s ok.

This is when people start saying, “You can’t help every child” as they try to comfort me. 

But I'm a big believer that ministry is simply loving the people that God puts right in front of you. 

“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world.  For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

 “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink?  When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

 “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." -Matthew 25

"The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these." -Mark 12:31

I don't know what God wants us to do. It seems pretty simple in the passages above. But it would be crazy right?! 

What about the finances? The beds? The space? The food? The 29 children who could camp outside of our gate the next night? 

But I think God is asking, "What about this one?" 

And so I'm asking back, "What about this one?" 

“I don’t want to be _________________ any longer.”

“I don’t want to be _________________ any longer.” 

Fill in the blank. Sinful. Angry. Single. Selfish. Hurt. Alone. Dry. Sick. Busy. Here.  

There’s a word that we can all put in that blank. Something that we all tell God that we don’t want to be... 

And it’s usually followed by a sentence that is cried out in frustration or desperation, that goes something like this....

“God, I want to be ________________!”  

Content. Joyful. In community. There. Married. On the mountaintop. With my friends. 

I wonder what would happen if we all stopped asking God when we are going to get what we want, and we are we going to stop being what we don’t want to be? 

And instead we ask him to show us what we have now that is of value? 

When we speak sentence #1, it brings dissatisfaction. 
When we speak sentence #2, it defers our hope. (Proverbs 13:12) 
When we ask Him to show us what we have now that is of value - it can only create praise and humble us to worship. 

Worship is where we render our hearts to be transformed into His likeness. It doesn’t come from dissatisfaction, or hoping that when I get this or reach this place then things will be better. 

We get too caught up in trying to fight who we are not made to be. We spend too many hours praying not to be something or somewhere. 

Any time Jesus healed sickness in the Bible, He did not look at the sick person and say “Oh, you are very sick.” He looked at them and said, “You are healed!” 

When Jesus tells the disciples to feed the five thousand, He doesn’t tell the disciples “Not enough food!” He says “We already have what we need!” 

He didn’t look at the repentant thief hanging on the cross next to Him and say, “Now you! You were particularly sinful.” He says “You will surely be with me in paradise!” 

He speaks who He created us to be, who He died for us to be -- NOT what we can see that we are in that moment. 

Because we live by faith and not by sight. 

Proverbs 23:7 As a man thinketh in his heart, so he will be... 

I want to think about myself the way that Jesus thinks about me. I want to speak about myself the way that Jesus speaks about me. I want to believe about myself, what Jesus believes about me. That’s true humility. Seeing yourself how Jesus sees you. 

I respect our older boys in our home beyond what words can ever describe. They are young men that walk with such faith, and are pioneering what the Doors home stands for. They’re like that first child in the family that the parents are still learning when that child falls you don’t need to always rush to their side.  The parents are still learning that when that teenager asks to go to the library to study but has on her party clothes - you should probably say no. They are the guinea pigs. 

We all know that. They know that. They rejoice through it, and most days do it gladly.

When I see one of them struggling with something, or hear a conversation going on about girls (that can sometimes happen when you have large amounts of teenage boys under one roof) I can begin to think, “What if they don’t turn out ok?” 

I see their sin, and I want to panic! “What if we’ve messed this up?!” I want to fight that sin so that they can be who God has made them to be.  (Disclaimer: I know they aren’t perfect, I’m not that dumb...) 

Today I sat down to pray for these boys, and God spoke to me and said, “Speak over them as I speak over them. See them as I see them.” So instead of laboring hours praying “Jesus, let his eyes be fixed on you and not on girls.” or  “God, take away his disobedience.”  I just proclaimed, “Man of righteousness, man of humility, man of gentility, man of who serves the Lord with all He is, man who loves the Lord with all that’s within him...” and so on and so on....and I let the praise come forth. 

Because I don’t want to spend too much time acknowledging who Satan is trying to make these boys, I would rather spend my time agreeing with God for who He has already made them to be. 

That’s how we sin abolished in our lives and that’s when we see certain struggles coming to an end. When we combat them with praise. Proclaiming who God is and who we are, renews our minds.  

This phrase is beautiful and you’ve probably heard it before, but let me tell it to you again. 

We have to stop telling God how big our problem is, and tell the problem how big our God is.