Hakuna sheda

Hakuna sheda!

No problem!

There are no problems, indeed.

Hakuna sheda.

Horns sound, hoot in a friendly manner,

Alerting rather than cursing.

Cars weave in and out,

on and off the road,

Taxis and buses swerve in and out,

bicycles litter the road,

while pedestrians weave in and out of it all.

And in this disorganized chaos of Africa roads,

There is an understanding of humility,

Of seeing others as more important than oneself.

Hakuna sheda.

Right of way is forfeited,

Hands wave others to pass or cut in.

Intersections are meetings grounds where one slows down and rolls through,

Rather than cruising through with confidence of right of way.

Hakuna sheda

And with the release of fighting for rights

Comes the release of others,

Allowing each to navigate without judging or irritation.

You cannot offend me, 

as I have chosen to not be offended.

Hakuna sheda.

A man’s wisdom gives him patience; 

it is to his glory to overlook an offense.

There is a humility here, in this place,

That is unmatched anywhere else.

And I am learning the way of

Hakuna sheda.

Linking up to Emily at in the hush of the moon. Stop by for some amazing poetry.

On Coming Down from the Mountain

There is a stirring, a discontent. No, discontent isn't the right word. I cannot put my finger on it. A restlessness that I cannot define. 

We go home in 9 days. 9 days before we return to life stateside, to grocery stores and farmers' markets, preschool, Chipotle, girlfriends, walls and fences, rights and privilege, hot showers, reliable electricity, driving on the left side of the road, car seats, abundance, abundance, abundance.

9 days. Have I learned what You brought me here to teach? My eyes have been opened to MANY, many things, but I am slow to learn. My head is slow and heart is stubborn.

9 days. What I have heard, what I have seen throughout the past four months have been incredible lessons in community, what it is and how to live it. In grace; this has always been an ambiguous, churchy word to me, but I have seen it lived out and now know that it is much harder, and much more freeing than I ever imagined. In humility, which apparently I knew nothing about. It is freeing to know, and believe, that there is One who speaks on my behalf, yet incredibly hard to not open my mouth and fight. Learning to ask the questions, "Does it matter? Will this glorify God?"

Community, grace, humility.

There are things in my own life that I know must change, steps that I have taken that have hindered my growth, slowed my faith walk. Finding your way back to the path of God can be challenging, but He has promised that those who seek Him are sure to find Him. And so I seek, grasp, cry out, and know that He will answer.

I want to pray throughout the day, even fixed-hour prayer. I want to be sure to give You thanks before bites go into the mouth, because my eyes have seen and my heart has loved many who do not have such privilege. They have faces and names, bodies that I have held. They are not strangers to me, and I do not want to forget their plight, or the One who provides for us all. I want to be in the habit of feasting on the real Bread of life several times each day, and not when crisis or concern strikes, as that is what will nourish and grow me through all seasons. I want these things not for the sake of being a "better" Christian, but for the sake of knowing You more, walking more closely with You, living out this Christ-life and actually looking more like Christ. I want these to define my life with passion and energy, without becoming mindless routines.

Somehow, this status quo isn't enough. There is a void that has to be filled and my habit and flesh tendency would fill it with worldly things, such as food, or shopping, or just making myself busier to fill that void. But I have learned enough to know that those things don't fill the void, but only ease the pain of it for a short, short time. Here I have not had access to those "drugs" and so God has revealed Himself in mighty ways, as the Comforter and the One who heals.

How can I be truly set apart when my life feels so ordinary, so much like everybody else? How will anyone know anything about Jesus by looking at my life?

I have seen short-term mission teams come and go throughout the summer, so alive, passion burning. They are intentional and focused, set apart for a short season to proclaim the goodness of God. And I too have been a part of such a team, and remember standing at the mountaintop, bold for my Savior, wildly in love and wanting all in my path to receive His blessings of peace and life. But I cannot help but wonder, what happens when this short season ends and life goes back to normal? My summer began with a team, moving from village to village, but when the team left and everyday life resumed of raising up my family of little people, the excitement and passion of a focused purpose quickly waned. Daily trips to the market for food for dinner, sibling squabbles, diapers, upset tummies, temper tantrums replaced travel and interaction and being seen as important, relevant, needed.

And I wondered, "How now, will they know that I am His?"

When you travel with a mission team, life is a bit different. The standard is set a bit higher and everyone feeds off of each other, for better or worse, and the spiritual air is thick with anticipation of God's movement. With the demands of the mission field, it is know that one cannot survive a day, at least not well, without full reliance on the guidance, grace, and mercy of the Holy Spirit. There is much more reliance. There has to be.

And then seasons shift drastically and the excitement of work well done becomes the mundane of routine. And someone says with the best of intentions, "Just give it some time, and everything will go back to normal."

And somehow it always does, except that it is never quite the same ever again because I'm trying to fit all that my eyes have seen and my heart has absorbed into a box that wasn't prepared for such things. And it just doesn't fit.

What happened when Moses had to come down from the Mountain so beautiful and face so radiant, and deal with bickering, rebellious siblings, and squabbling families, and the chores of keeping the people focused long enough to not build golden calfs and call them god?

He threw his tablets on the ground and stomped his feet in anger.

Yeah, I know that feeling.

How do the passions keep from becoming mere smoldering coals?
Is it that we are to be set apart for a mere short season, a 10-week short-term trip, or set apart for life, day-to-day life lived out in sacrifice and humility and community? And in the "normal" day-to-day of life, what is my role in seeing that the hungry are fed, the thirsty are given water, the orphans are cared for and the widows are loved? What is my role in creating and contributing to community, that they may know that we are one?
And how do we do that when we are all seeking to move away from others, with walls that separate us to preserve our privacy and personal space?

I dont' want everything to go back to normal. I want the radical obedience and wild passion of following Jesus. I just need to know what it looks like.

As we are preparing for the journey back to the states, these are the questions I am struggling with, praying for discernment.
How now shall we live? For the next 9 days, I am pondering this with intensity.

What about you? What are your thoughts on community and humility and grace towards others? 

I have more thoughts to share on those things soon. They are a tornado in my heart right now, moving too fast to make any sense. Hopefully the winds will die down soon.

Salt of the Earth

This is a follow-up post (#3) to a series on "Salt." To read the first two passages, feel welcomed to visit here and here. Thank you for stopping by. Karibu tena (Welcome again).

Our mornings in Kenya are ushered in with the giggles of waking girls to brilliantly painted African sunrises and traditional Kenyan tea, the sweet aroma of milk boiling, tagless tea bags steeping on the burner in the old aluminum teapot that spits out drops of tea like a camel spitting at tourists who get too close. The milky brown joy is then poured from the state of bubbling bliss into a deep blue thermos, where it remains piping hot until being poured out like an offering into the waiting altar of mugs. It is the custom of the Kenyan morning. If there is nothing else, there is tea.

I gingerly sip on my second cup for the day, having jaunted to the market in between the first and second. As I am chopping the vegetables that will escort the softening beans for dinner, my teacup sits faithfully next to me on the counter, steam twisting and dancing toward the heavens. I think of worship and being salt and being alive in Christ, reveling in the freedom that only He provides, pondering all that the freedom has done for me, wondering how now I shall live for the freedom, all the while curling the fingers under the bell peppers so as to not chop off the tips.

My hands are stained with the perma-scent of fresh cut purple onion and marvelous cloves of pungent fresh garlic, as that seems to be a staple of most everything that is prepared in this kitchen. Into the pan, chopped pieces of crystal-colored onion with a deep royalty clothing the outside. Bits of garlic cling to it as a true BFF, that they may go through the fire together.

Mark 9:49 says, “Everyone will be salted with fire.”

I ponder this phrase as I light the fire under the vegetables for a quick sauté, the sizzling of the oil and browning of the veggies telling a story of their own.

We will be tested, sprayed and dashed with fire at different points in our walk. If we are to become the salt of the earth, as Matthew 5:13 says, then some refining has to take place so that we are of good flavor to our surroundings, and not spoilers.

Bell pepper, onion, garlic, and a dash of olive oil over the blue-orange flames of the burner create an aroma that is inebriating. The lungs expand fully, taking in the scent of a meal worthy of royalty. After the veggies have reached the perfect shade of golden brown, they are dumped into the pot of half-softened beans, along with diced carrots, a healthy dash or two of cumin, and a generous sprinkling of salt over the top. Tenderly stir it all together to allow the salt to pull out the very best of all that has been thrown together. That is what salt does.

When we enjoy the feast in the evening of all that has simmered throughout the day, it is not the salt that is applauded. Nobody comments on how wonderfully salty the salt is, but rather how delicious the beans are, how the vegetables and spices have combined so beautifully, how the garlic is so rich, how the carrots are so sweet, how the soup is perfectly flavored. Nobody comments on the salt. But if it is missing, it is surely noticed, as one by one, hands reach for the shaker resting in the middle of the table.

Shake, shake, shake, shake….slurp the soup…roll on the tongue….not quite there…shake, shake, shake…tongue dips to soup, roll around….perfect.

The beans are divine!

When the salt is present, when the right amount has been added, the brilliant flavors of others are brought out enhanced. The entire lot shines because the salt has done its job, without reward or mention. Its humble station is to lift others up and make them better.

You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt loses its flavor, how shall it be seasoned? It is then good for nothing but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot by men.

You, dear sister, dear brother, are called to be the salt of this rock; the seasoning that brings out the best in all those around you; the flavor that needs no recognition on its own other than to see all those who know you be built up and blessed to the fullest potential.

It is a humble lot to work for the betterment of others, without craving applause. But we have been called to be the salt. When we are missing, when we have not shown up in the humility and servanthood that was demonstrated for us, it is noticed. It is felt. It might not be verbalized, but the hearts have recognized that the salt is not there.

Shake, shake, shake, shake…toss a warm, friendly smile at a hurting soul…see the eyes lift at the thought of being seen by another….shake, shake, shake, shake…touch the arm of the homeless woman asking you for money…see the hardened shell crack at the power of a gentle human touch…shake, shake, shake…send an encouraging note to sister on your heart...see a heart encouraged to persevere in difficult times...shake, shake, shake...cook dinner for a family experiencing hard times and drop it off anonymously...see a family giving gratitude to the Maker for providing...shake, shake, shake...see your world seasoned with love and kindness.

When the salt is there, in gentleness, in humility, in quiet servitude, not seeking self exaltation, but longing to see the hearts of others lifted, when the salt is there, it may not be called out in recognition or gratitude, but it is noticed. It is felt. And the Father is ever glorified.

You are the salt of the earth.

How are you flavoring your world?

Today I am linked up to wonderful Beth's site, I should be folding laundry, who challenged us this week to capture "in the kitchen" photos. Hop over to check out some really stunning photography. 

A Life of Service

Serving others is one of the great hallmarks of the Christian life. But before it can be fully embraced and incorporated into life, it is first important to understand whom it is that we serve, what it is that we serve, and to what end. Why do we do what we do? Otherwise it can be easy to lose focus, become distracted and knocked off course. Scripture says that where there is no vision, the people will perish, and so let us contend for the faith, get ahold of the vision of service, and walk in it. 

This is a bumper sticker that is produced and sold by an organization called The American Humanist Association. This is what their website says about them:

We strive to bring about a progressive society where being “good without god” is an accepted way to live life. We are accomplishing this through our defense of civil liberties and secular governance, by our outreach to the growing number of people without religious belief or preference, and through a continued refinement and advancement of the humanist worldview.

Bordered on one side by the transcendental views of traditional religions and mythologies and on the other by atheism and secularism, the values we hold are grounded in the philosophy of the Enlightenment, informed by scientific knowledge, and driven by a desire to meet the needs of people in the here and now.

We count humanists and other nontheists as the core of our movement but are always willing to work with friends and allies on issues of common concern.  The positions we hold and the actions we take are not simply for our own benefit, but for the betterment of all of society.

         

This organization argues that people are fundamentally good in and of themselves and can essentially work together for the betterment of society by their own good intentions. There are several problems with this, though:

1. People are not fundamentally good in and of themselves. Genesis 6:5 says, “The Lord saw how great man’s wickedness on the earth had become, and that every inclination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil all the time.” If this is what the Creator sees of us, how can we possibly think that we can do good all by ourselves?

2. Good is relative. The line of good is pushed and swayed by whatever is acceptable by culture for that time period. The definition is based on what the majority says. Scripture says that there is a way that seems right to man, but in the end it leads to death. Even the AHA website says that their worldview is continually being refined and advanced. If we are not basing our directions, our decisions, and our definitions on what Scripture has laid out for us, how will they stand against the shifting sands of time?

I am currently reading the Gayle Haggard’s book called, “Why I Stayed.” For those who don’t know the story, her husband is Ted Haggard. Up until the end of 2006, he was the senior pastor of a 14,000-member mega-church in Colorado Springs. In November of 2006, it was discovered that he had fallen into great sin, including sexual immorality, infidelity, and illegal drug use. The fall of a godly man such as Ted Haggard is overwhelmingly tragic, but what really breaks my heart, was the church’s response to it all.

There was a board of overseers in place to hold him accountable, which is good and biblical. But it strayed from biblical when he was not only removed from leadership (which was called for), but he was also removed from the fellowship of the church. He was essentially put into exile and not allowed to be a part of the body of Christ.

Gayle Haggard writes in her book that she kept waiting for the Church to show forgiveness, to show grace. She kept waiting for the body of Christ to welcome them back into the fellowship, based on Scripture. She was looking at Paul’s letter to the Church at Corinth, when he wrote about the church’s need to welcome back in a previously unrepentant sinner.

Paul wrote, “The punishment inflicted on him by the majority is sufficient for him. Now instead, you ought to forgive and comfort him, so that he will not be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow. I urge you, therefore, to reaffirm your love for him.”

She was looking for the church to step into role, and yet they didn’t. There was no one among them who was willing to step up and shout out, “Wait a minute! What we are doing does not line up with Scripture!”

See, there is a way that seems right to man, but in the end it leads to death. Good is relative. The Word of God is not. We cannot rely on our own goodness to serve others, which leads us to the third point.

3. Being good to others without the shadow of the cross in your life will always place self first. It looks like this: I’ll take care of me and my family first and then from whatever I have left over, I’ll serve others. From whatever money, time and energy I have left over at the end of my crazy days, I’ll serve others.”

But that wasn’t the way of Christ. Christ never placed himself first, even though He had every reason in the world to do so. Even in His darkest hour, He still humbled himself to say, “Not my will, but your will be done.” Christ teaches us sacrifice. This is what separates followers of Christ from anyone else in the world. He teaches us to put others first, and our own needs second.

As wives and mothers of young children, I know it already feels like we put everyone else before ourselves. We take care of our husbands and our children to the point of exhaustion.

I clothe the naked every morning as my little ones jump out of their pajamas and run around the house in nothing more than the beautiful skin God gave them. I feed the hungry several times a day as tiny mouths open wide like baby birds waiting for their mouths to be filled.

But is that really what Christ was talking about? Are we really serving the least of these of brothers of His? Who are the least of these?

As a mom, I look at my three angels and am overwhelmed at their potential in this life. What will God do with them? What is His calling for them?  What is my vision for my children? Do I want them to be good, church-going kids who turn into responsible citizens, or do I want them to be world changers, radically in love with Jesus? And just as the King of kings changed the world by sacrificing everything, I want to model for my children what that looks like.

So what does that look like?

More tomorrow to come...

Thoughts from an Apostle's Wife

So, I am the wife an apostle. Truly, a real, live, world-traveling, tongue speaking, persecution enduring, Christ following, obedient apostle. His calling is clear, and his heart is totally sold out. So proud of my husband.

I often think about Peter's wife. I wish I knew her name, other than Peter's wife. I imagine that she was an incredible, blessed, humble woman of God. I wish I could be like her. I wonder if she struggled when her man was away. He was gone for looooong stretches. I wonder if she ever asked him, "Peter, where ya been for the last three years, or so? Whatcha been doing? Don't you miss me?" I wonder if she ever wished Peter would return to the fishing boat and bring home the bacon. I wonder if she ever wished for a more "normal" life. But her husband was called, and he answered. He followed Jesus to his dying day, and became a great shepherd of the Church in the process.

I wish God had left more stories for us(me) about women such as Peter's wife. I love the stories of Peter and all that he did in obedience to Christ, but what about the ones supporting him?What about the ones who stayed behind? What were their lessons? How did they grow and move in faith? How did they avoid resentment and bitterness? Whom did their lives impact in their quiet obedience?

I remember a letter that I had sent to my husband when we were corresponding before we got married. It makes me laugh now to think of what I wrote then. I told him that I was not the sort of girl to stay behind taking care of the homefront. I was a goer too, just like him. That's to think about now, as I was getting letters from him at that point in time after being taken hostage by the LRA in northern Uganda, being robbed in Saudi Arabia, being caught in the war raids in Uganda. Although I could definitely do without the kidnapping, imprisonments, and torture, I was sure I was a goer. Just like him. And so he needed to know that once we got married, I was going to be traveling with him. It's all part of the adventure for Christ, right?

Silly, feminist. Turns out women can't do it all. We're not supposed to. I have a calling as well, and a place and seasons to live that out. Turns out for this season of my life, I'll be doing a little less traveling, and a whole lot more foundation laying in the lives of three gorgeous and vivacious girls. And it turns out that this is an incredible ministry too, teaching little ones what it looks like to be obedient in servanthood.

I wish I could talk to Peter's wife. I'm sure she would have some encouraging words for when I am feeling pent up, longing to dream under the expansive African sky, missing my man when he is away. I'm sure that she would remind me that it is, in fact, not about me, and it is all worth it in the end.

I am married to an apostle, and tonight he is home, asleep next to me. And so I will cherish the time before I proudly send him out again. Good night.