Check!

  

 We love to make lists, prioritization charts, and goals don’t we?  It’s what we are taught to do because it would be crazy to go to the grocery store before you go to the bank to withdraw money.  It’s a natural human instinct and it has helped us out a lot.

Make spear. Run down animal.  Eat. 

It’s been going on for a while, and I think as humans we are quite good at it by now.

We have become so efficient in fact, that we fail miserably when it comes to walking with Jesus.  I think I have figured it out and organized everything so well that it isn’t until I fall on my face, bloody, tears streaming, and broken that I realize my check list was all wrong.  That all the things, activities, and people I put before “Coming unto Jesus” have transformed into detestable idols that have “become a burden to me and carried me off into captivity” (Isaiah 46).

If I decide to be a nurse before I am a forgiven daughter of Christ, I will hate those beautiful, sick children I see every day. If I decide to be a best friend or sister to someone before I am a pure child of God, I will curse those friends in my heart and murder them with my thoughts.  If I decide to work for a non-profit before I am a servant of Christ I will hate ministry, single mothers, and feeding the hungry.  If I try to love, without first realizing the infinite love that Jesus has for me I will be fake and religious. 

How do I know?  Because I have felt it and seen it happen over and over in my heart.

The Lord has called me back to America for some time in September, till who knows when.  I get the question- “What has been the biggest lesson during your time in Uganda?”  That question used to take some thought, but not anymore.  There is a song in my heart that beckons me to sing out loud to myself, churches, organizations, and families everywhere. 

Love the Lord your God with ALL your HEART.  Any thing, person, or place you put on His throne will carry you away into captivity.  Don’t let any outside force or the inward love of self get in your way of getting closer to Jesus.

Go ahead, make your checklist.  But keep in mind that if Jesus isn’t the first on your list or in your heart, the day will be a messy disaster, whether you know it yet or not.  If Jesus is above all things, know with peaceful certainty that your list may still be messed up by His own doing and know that you are in perfect order of His perfect plan for the world and yourself.  

“What I have said, that will I bring about; what I have planned, that will I do.  Listen to me, you stubborn-hearted, you who are far from righteousness.  I am bringing my righteousness near, it is not far away; and my salvation will not be delayed.  I will grant salvation to Zion, my splendor to Israel.” –Isaiah 46:11-13

choking on wheat thins

I like to run on days when my brain is working harder than my hands, 

I want my hands, feet, legs, arms, and nose to be consumed with whats in front of me,

I want my heart to break over something or someone so I can find a safe place in what I’m doing,

So I don’t give in to the thoughts....

why are you still here? 

what did you do today that was beneficial? 

where are the results? 

where is the provision? 

is this really going to matter in the long run? 

Thoughts that I flee from because I am tired of playing defense and it’s easier not to think at all...and it appears that if my hands are busy, the thoughts retreat to some far off place. Thoughts that can choke you - until you either swallow them or spit them out.

There are days that my mind is choked by thoughts to the point where I can’t even hear myself speak. 

It is not from the Spirit of God to flee from these thoughts, to busy our hands and wishfully think that they will go away. They don’t. They grow. 

It’s hard to seek wisdom or the right path from God when these thoughts are dominating your brain - because our escape from them can become our idol. 

Ive learned that we don’t need to escape, but we need to conquer. Even though it may be the hardest words that have come out of your mouth, the driest song that your heart has ever attempted to sing, words that make you feel fake and insincere, praise needs to come forth. 

I have to retire to solitude and even if it feels like I just swallowed a wheat thin whole, “Jesus you are good” needs to come out of my mouth. 

And it may take me saying that ten times, forty times, however many; before praise bursts forth. My thoughts can not become louder than the song in my heart. And sometimes we have to set out to sing even when we don’t want to.

Praise restores. 

Praise drowns out the roar of questions as I look at the answer. 

Praise gives us the grace to walk through our present circumstances and to even consider them grace, no matter what the situation, because our eyes are fixed on the end, not on the moment. 

Take the romance out of it

I don’t look at this dirt under my feet and proclaim “I LOVE YOU!” 
Or stare at my charcoal stove and think “I could never live another day without you!”
And I certainly don’t tell the boda boda as I get on, “I trust you.” 

I don’t walk through the booming loud slum and say to it “I want you to be louder.” 
Or walk through the city where you can’t move one foot without bumping into someone and say “I want you to be closer.” 
And I don’t look to these children and announce “You guys are all I’m living for.” 

When I slip in the slum and land on my butt, I don’t look to the ground and say “Thank you for catching me.” 
Or when he cheats me because of the color of my skin, there is no “Thank you for teaching me” that comes from my mouth. 
And I don’t sing “Africa, you are perfect and HOLY!” 

I see widows prostituting, children starving, the rich not caring for their own, families hopeless, missionaries burnt out, people dying, empty bank accounts, kids who don’t dream about their future because they have HIV, schools that costs too much money, families that look to me to save them, and dads who can’t carry the weight of responsibility that hovers over them and chokes them until they break and leave, and I don’t declare “Uganda, you love justice!” 

There is no romance there. I don’t want to be pursued by Uganda.

And I don’t want to pursue Uganda, because we would not be equally yoked. 

We were made to worship. There is only One that can hold the weight of our worship. If we put the weight of our worship on our jobs, our families, entertaining ourselves, or even the place that we desire to go to serve the Lord - all of those things will surely crack. They can’t hold the weight of worship. Worship was defined for One. 

There is an outlook that many Christians have towards missions that entails these thoughts of great adventure, living with immense purpose, and walking around soaring on wings like eagles. 

There are plenty of days that I feel without purpose. There are plenty of days that I just want to see my friends and do something fun even though I know there are sick mothers I need to see. There are plenty of days that I want to make a plate of chocolate chip cookies and curl up by a fire. The place doesn’t create the purpose. The romance is not in the mission. The romance is not going across the world where you have to light a fire with a plastic bag and some charcoal, scrub your clothes clean with your bare hands, always have dirty feet and sweat dripping down your face, and you hold sick, dying, and unloved children every day. Don't be blinded by that, it's not fun. 

Once I let the romance drain from every spot that I misplaced it, and after every broken heart heals that I've experienced because the place doesn't love me as much as I loved it, and when I realized that this place needs WAY more than I on my own can offer, the idol that we so often make of modern day missions comes crashing down. 

The romance is that there is a Maker whose love covers every wrong and He is everywhere. He calls me His own. God has brought me to a place that exposes who I am to the core and I was the first to learn that I’m not a hero, but that I’m loved by One. 

We can’t wait to be loved. We can't wait until we get "there" until we start living the way that He desires us to live as loved. We can’t be more excited about where God is going to call us, than we are to spend time with Him. We can’t worship the gift more than the Giver. We can’t look at a problem and think it needs you, more than it needs God.  He is waiting for us. 

This may not be classy....but you gotta hear it

I usually don’t like to blog about money. Part of me doesn’t feel like it’s classy, and the other part doesn’t want people to think I’m asking for it. I know we’re a non-profit and that right now we make a living asking for support, but I don’t believe that I’ve ever asked a person for support. I ask God, the living God, who moves in hearts and minds and whispers to His children to give to His purpose. 

I ask God for churches and people to speak to, not because I want to share about what we are doing and be blessed by them; but because I believe that God is doing something so beautiful, full of glory, impossible, and kingdom bringing - right here in Uganda - that it will bless people to hear what the Living God has done. 

I say all of this to say, money has been tight lately. Our family stops for one. If God says stop, we stop. If God says give, we give. God rarely calls us to do what is within our bank account to do - but He always provides. 

I can’t challenge God when money is tight  and He says bring someone home, whether that’s a street kid who needs to break an addiction or someone who needs somewhere to crash for a few days, even on days where I feel like counting out every grain of rice we are about to cook.  

We’ve had a lot of medical situations the past couple of weeks within the school and slum, and from a couple street kids popping in for dinner and a few nights as they try to recover from illness and injury. 

The medical budget had dwindled down to nothing, when one of our very own kids fell this weekend and broke and dislocated his ankle, needing a 4 day hospital stay and expensive surgery. We didn’t find out how expensive until Monday, the day of the surgery. The doctor told us the price of the surgery and that 50% had to be paid up front and 50% directly after surgery. The number made our eyebrows shoot up, and we prayed and asked the doctor if he would do a payment plan for us. He said yes. The nurse later told us that this doctor had only ever done this once before. We had until July 20th to pay off the surgery. 

That night we had an e-mail from a sweet friend back home who was going to ask her family to help pay for the surgery. We told her the amount that we needed and went to bed thankful for her and her family. Tuesday when we tried to get him discharged, we found out there was another bill. It was bigger than the first one! This one was for the hospital stay, nurse care, meals, injections, etc...and he couldn’t leave until we paid this bill in full! 

We prayed and then we bent over backwards trying to pull this money from places so that the bill didn’t continue to increase. We were able to get him discharged, and went home that night. 

There can’t be any bitterness there. There can’t be any “God, you called us to help those other children and we CHOSE to help them and now the one that we NEED to help we can’t!” He asks for trust. He asks for us to see the way that He sees them. He doesn’t want us to look at our present circumstances and consider them a burden or a horrible place to be, but to consider them GRACE! He gives grace! 

God loves all of those children, and He would not say do something that He wasn’t going to provide for. This morning the leaders sat down for a meeting and we prayed that we would continue to trust God and we committed the surgery bill and the hospital bill to God. 

This afternoon, waiting in our bank account was the money from our friend and her family that we needed to cover the surgery AS WELL AS the exact amount that we bent over backwards scrounging up to pay the hospital bill from an online donor. 

I screamed BOOYAH for Jesus and then as I began to thank Him, I got a text from Katie that she’s going to be late for dinner because she’s taking a little girl to the hospital...that’s not a joke. 

There are countless stories within our ministry like this one; that have shaped, refined, and sharpened my faith. I pray it does the same to yours today. 

He's gone

There were a lot of different emotions last week when he left our house, still injured, and going back to the streets led by an addiction. 

Nobody was surprised, but all of us wish he could see himself the way that we see him. 

Bwanika jumped at the opportunity to give him his bed while he stayed with us, and Bwanika slept on the floor. 

Timothy and Richard took turns checking on him in the middle of the night so that the uncles 

and aunts wouldn’t have to get up and do it themselves. 

He and Morris sat outside and laughed and laughed about the memories they had together. 

Fred quickly lent him some of Fred’s own clothes to wear. 

Our boys showered love on him. They were a living, walking, talking, breathing, laughing testimony of what God has done. 

But, he still left. 

We are reminded once again that the job of our family is not to save people. 

This ministry doesn’t exist to get as many boys off the street as possible, put them in a home, and see them through to success. 

Our job is to love. And love we did. 

He left our home even though he could have had an open door to stay, to go to school, to break his addictions, and become part of our family. 

Did we fail? No. 

Did we love? Yes. 

It’s that simple. 

We are praising Him that His ways aren’t our ways. That He has a plan for him and we are thankful and honored to be a part of it! 

drugs, if's, and gifts

There are two men that live in our house that never get enough appreciation, honor, or recognition. Their names are Mark and David and they are the two fearless uncles who continuously pour out into our boys. And if you asked me when Doors really started I wouldn’t tell you in January of 2012 or the time that God first broke our hearts for one of our boys; but it would be the day that we met these two men. 

We were working on the streets and Katie had set up a medical table, and someone brought in a little boy who looked about 6 or 7 at the time. He was shaking horribly, raging with fever, unresponsive, and was violently ill. We thought he had malaria. Nothing we did seemed to help, until one of the other street boys who is now one of our kids, came up to us and told us that this sick boy had been taking too many drugs. 

Opium, Marijuana, and huffing petrol. Katie and I were running around, searching for water, medicine, blankets; and we barely took the time to introduce ourselves to the two men who joined in our fight to save this little boy’s life. 

That was the first time we saw him when he overdosed. A crisis that led to four brothers and sisters becoming best friends. The four of us held this little boy, prayed over him, administered lots of love and water over the next few months as the same little boy overdosed two more times and found himself in our arms. 

Almost two years later, Mark found him on the streets yesterday. At this point this may not surprise you, but he was high, ill with fever, and having a huge wound on his foot where he was run over by a taxi and a boda boda. He brought him home.  He’s slept almost 16 hours at this point, and yes we keep checking to make sure that he’s still breathing. 

This kid’s a runner. He always has been. Every time he overdosed we would put him in a house with people to continue to care for him throughout the night, and the next morning he would be gone. I woke up this morning wondering what God was going to do. I know that God has a huge plan and purpose and love for this stubborn child, because it is truly only by His grace that he is still alive. 

I found myself asking God, “Is this it? Is this the time that the change is really going to happen? That he finally settles into a home and lets you wreck his addictions and heal his trauma and cover him in love?” 

I don’t feel like God told me a yes or a no. What He did tell me was that, this is not a nail biter. This is not a question of whether or not God was going to show up, because He already has. This was not a chance to sit around praying nervously waiting to see if it really happens this time. This is a gift. That’s what this time is. Having this little boy sleep in our home, eat our food, drink our water, and be loved by us is a gift that God is giving us. 

Last week I heard three children say, “IF I live to be a grown up...” and it was not a mistake in their English. Last week a friend of ours lost his daughter to a rare strand of malaria. She was eleven. Three days after that I held a little girl in my arms who was shaking uncontrollably from malaria and with her 102 fever wanted to sit in the sun to get warm. 

There are days when things just don’t make sense in my heart and in the way I see them. I’ve been continually asking God through every tough time and situation to show me the love He has for the child that is weeping in my arms because she can’t stop shaking, and for the little boy who has layers of addiction and scars that he needs to be rescued from. 

And I definitely don’t know all the answers. What I do know is this, that each one of those children is a gift to Him, and therefore they are a gift to me. They are not another mouth to feed when we already don't have sponsorships filled, and they are not a burden of responsibility that I have to care. They are gifts singing worship songs as they mop the house, laughing as they play football in the yard, serving the family at dinner time, and even when their stubborn sides come out. They are gifts, and that's all I need to see.