The Seventh Day

When I learned that we would take our school break outside of Korr, I initially felt like that would be cheating the missionary card. Part of me believed that I should always be doing something involved with the ministry here. Preparing for classes, hosting visitors, supporting the on-going work. But when I was honest with myself, I knew that that wasn’t possible, or even Biblical. We weren’t meant to go without stopping.

“The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul.” [Psalm 23:1-3]

So for the past three weeks, I stepped away from Korr, and rested. Rest came in various forms—from not setting my alarm for 5am to exploring new sights. From playing card games with new friends to admiring God’s handiwork.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so I’ll spare you your reading glasses and give you a glimpse of my time through these shots.

What shopping for 3 months of food looks like!

The closest encounter I will ever have with a giraffe (or any animal, for that matter).

But for the record, giraffes are really cool in person!!

Seeing elephants at a much more acceptable distance.

Spending time with the Holmertz family.

Enjoying the beauty of the Kenyan Coast and Indian Ocean.

My friend, Salome, who played in the ocean with me on our first day.

Hanging out with our friends from the coast at a ruins site.

Visiting friends at Rift Valley Academy. Talk about a breath-taking view!

Back in Nairobi to lend a hand at a VBS.

This is just plain adorable.

Savoring a last milkshake.

Cold things just don't exist in the desert (well, not without a fridge at least!)

Even God, our all-powerful, perfect Creator, took time to rest after finishing his work of making the world. Let’s take God’s example and make sure that we rest. We are not meant to keep a torrid pace for long. We get tired, overwhelmed, discouraged. God knows this and commands that we rest because he wants to gives us a refreshment and nourishment for our souls that cannot come at break-neck speed. So whether you step into a quiet room for a few minutes or step away from your responsibilities for a few days or even weeks, might you look to God for the restoration that only He can bring.

 “And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, 

because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done.”

Bittersweet Sixteen

I’ve never been a fan of April. I would be okay if March jumped right into May. Eleven months is enough for the year, right?

I can always feel it in the back of my mind whenever April is approaching. Like most students dread going back to school after a break, I dread the start of April. But I know that as sure as spring follows winter, April will once again find its way onto the front page of the calendar.

I guess I can’t blame the entire month. It’s really just one offending day that’s the problem. Maybe if April 12^th could somehow morph into April 14^th, I could accept the month again with all the others. But for the past sixteen years, this has yet to happen. And because it never will, I must continue to face the reality of this day.

Today, sixteen years ago, cancer won the battle it waged against my dad.

I was just a little girl. I didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand. But over the years, I was forced to understand. My dad was no longer there for me to jump into his lap and read him stories. He was not there to stare down the boys who came to my house or to cheer embarrassingly at my graduations. He was not there to bid me farewell at the airport when I left for Kenya and he won't be there to greet me when I return. And today I am reminded that another year has passed without him in my life.

And I can focus on this. Or I can focus on the years he was in my life. The times he made me laugh. The times he wiped my tears. The times when he showed me just how much he loved me. Sorry for all of you and your luck, but I had the best dad in the world.

At our Good Friday service just two weeks ago, the pastor posed the following questions:

Can death bring joy?

Can death bring hope?

Can death bring peace?

Certainly not the death of my father. His absence in my life has never brought me joy, hope, or peace. Far from it. And if you’ve ever lost a loved one, you know that man’s death cannot bring these things.

But there was once a day when someone’s death was different than anyone else’s in all of history. And his death brought joy. His death brought hope. His death brought peace.

When Jesus hung on the cross dying, he satisfied God’s judgment on all of mankind’s sin. In doing so, he brought peace between God and man. He brought hope for a life greater than this. He brought joy even amidst pain and brokenness.

I know that life does not end when a heart stops beating. God promises that those who trust in and follow Him will spend eternity with Him in Heaven. That we will be reunited with our loved ones. That when we are with Him, it will be impossible for death to reign.

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” [Revelation 21:4]

I miss my daddy more than anything. Having joy doesn’t eliminate the pain. I long for the day when disease and tragedy and illness will no longer rip us away from our loved ones. We were not made for this broken existence. But we know that this is not all there is. We were made to be with Him.

So today, on April 13^th, I am choosing to cling to joy. To hope. To peace. To Him.

“Light for my darkness,

Peace for my soul,

You are my rescue,

You never let go.

All my hope is in You,

All my strength is in You,

With every breath,

My soul will rest in You.”

Happy Anniversary, New life.

I walked into her office, spoke with her for no more than two minutes, then walked out.

It was a simple transaction, that spring 2011 day, but it had great implications. I walked into the building as a soon-to-be graduate less than three months away from starting graduate school. I walked out as a soon-to-be graduate with not a clue of what was next. Ever so politely, I had withdrawn myself from Physical Therapy school.

I should have known it was coming. That fall I had nearly changed my major as a senior, feeling stretched and pulled in so many directions and not being sure which way was up. Not that anything is wrong with Athletic Training or Physical Therapy, but Christ was grabbing more of my affections and stirring plans for my life that I would have never given for myself. I was learning and growing and changing. I was not the same person I was when I stepped foot on the campus. Thus, trying to conform to the original plan was just not working.

“In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps.” [Proverbs 16:9]

Now, two years later, I look out my window at the acacia trees and the sandy, rocky soil and the mountains in the distance. I breathe in the fresh air and feel the warmth and enjoy the wind. I draw my attention inside and notice the tall pile of compositions I still need to grade and think about each one of the lives that are represented by the grammatically-struggling words on those pages. Those lives that have worked their way ever so easily into my heart.

This is my life. I live in Kenya.

With a few of my students on a recent trip

This was not my plan. My plan never gave a second thought to the vast land known as Africa. My plans preferred to stay in America, where I would find a nice job, a nice husband, and settle down into a nice house. But my plans centered around ME. What I wanted, what I desired. Sure, I wanted to honor God in all of that, but I had it a bit backwards. I would pick my path, and then God could bless me in what I had chosen. He was coming second.

I certainly don’t have it all figured out, but I have learned firsthand that when I seek God first, He gives me new desires--His desires. And His desires don’t center around catering to my wants, but rather around bringing Him glory and seeing his life-changing Name declared throughout the whole of this world. Hence, my life here in the middle of the African desert.

And isn’t that the way it should be? The God who made the universe and allows our lungs to breathe in the air He provides shouldn’t be an after-thought in our lives.

“Those who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs.” [Jonah 2:8]

This weekend, many will honor the sacrifice that God the Father made in sending His Son to die for us, and the sacrifice that God the Son made in actually enduring that death, His Father’s judgment for all of mankind’s sins. But, can we really stop for a minute and actually think about that? God loves us with such a crazy, scandalous love that He allowed His Son to be separated from Himself and murdered. Jesus paid the punishment that our sins deserve. God loves you personally, intimately. He desires for all to know Him and experience this lavish grace and love. To experience abundant life as he directs and as He plans, for surely His plans are better than ours. Do you know Him in this way?

“He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all-- how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? [Romans 8:32]

So, this weekend, I am also celebrating how two years ago, God loved me enough to flip my plans upside down and start me on this new journey. I have hardly ever known what is coming next, but the knowledge that He is leading is plenty for me. I pray that this weekend also finds you rejoicing in Him, and in His plans for your life. Happy Easter, dear friends.

My math class, working on an exam

My feet are dirty

This past weekend, we had the privilege of visiting Ngurunit, the nearby hometown of a secondary school teacher. After a bumpy, dusty one-hour drive, we arrived in this beautiful, mountainous town. For a few days, we walked around, enjoyed the company of old and new friends, and spent lazy evenings underneath the star-laden sky.

Walking through Ngurunit

It didn't take long for me to notice a simple difference between Korr and Ngurunit though. The sand and dirt that we walked on in Ngurunit had a greater affinity for sticking to my feet than back in Korr. The first afternoon, I looked down at my feet, impressed by the tan I was quickly getting. I soon realized that I was easily fooled as this “tan” was actually a thin, solid layer of dust.

There was also water in Ngurunit; water that you could swim in. The water was quite refreshing on those hot, African afternoons, and it was nice having the water clean my feet. But as we would leave the water and start back home, I would take about three steps before my feet were dirty again. In fact, my wet feet now exacerbated the problem. If dirt can cling easily to a dry foot, you can imagine how it took advantage of some damp ones.

Local children sliding down the rocks into the water

But let’s be serious. This isn’t a problem that is limited to Ngurunit. I rely on my feet each day to transport me through the hot, windy desert in Korr. And at the end of the day, well, they are in need of a good cleaning. They are calloused. Sweaty. Dusty. Just plain dirty.

The other day, as I contemplated this unfortunate by-product of my life, my mind jumped to John 13, a story in the Bible that talks about dirty feet. If you are not familiar with it, I encourage you to check out the whole story. Here’s a glimpse.

“After that, he [Jesus] poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.” [John 13:5]

Washing feet was a job saved for servants, and rightly so. It wasn’t exactly the most glamorous job. Servants would have to get down on the ground and proceed to touch filthy, smelly feet. Feet that perhaps hadn’t been cleaned in several days. They would use their hands, which they used to eat and drink and clothe themselves, to wipe the grime off of strangers’ feet.

Now with that thought in mind, let’s ponder this story. Jesus, the Son of God, was eating dinner with his closest friends. You can almost hear the gasps in the room as He stood up and walked toward a pitcher and basin. Jesus was their teacher, their leader, their God. He was the last person who should perform such a demeaning task.

But in order to show them the “full extent of his love” [verse 1], Jesus knelt on the floor, and began to wash his disciples’ feet. Full of compassion. Full of humility. Full of love.

Today, I look down at my dirty feet, and close my eyes. I imagine a scene similar to the one portrayed in John 13, except that now Jesus isn’t washing his disciples’ feet. He’s washing mine. The very same Jesus who sits at the right hand of God is sitting at my feet. He looks me tenderly in the eyes, and wipes the dirt from my feet. And by doing so, he is expressing the magnitude of his love. This isn’t a task fit for him, but He cannot help but show the depth of his love for me. So the God of the universe takes my dirty feet and cleans them.

Take a moment to picture Christ doing the same thing for you. Because He has.

Feet that Jesus himself has cleaned

And once Jesus had performed this simple but incredibly powerful act, He gave his disciples a charge.

“Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.” [John 13:14-15]

We don’t live in a culture where washing feet is needed, but we are certainly to serve others the way Christ showed us. You know that man with the bad attitude? He really needs someone to listen to him. You know that woman who everyone gossips about? She could use someone to stick up for her. You know that young person who seems to make all the wrong choices? They would truly benefit from having a godly role model in their life.

We are all given different opportunities to love and to serve those around us. What are yours? How will you take hold of them today? This week? This year? May Christ's example be our guide as we seek to truly love others.

Semi-Political Thoughts from the Politically Disinclined

The email stared at me from my inbox. “Kenyan election: Reasons to be Fearful”

As if the March 4^th presidential election needed any more reason to be on my radar, this email was supposedly going to give me a few more.

I’ve never been interested in politics. That was my sister’s territory. She joined the mock trial team, while I dribbled on the basketball court. She watched the evening news, while I turned the channel to Baseball Tonight. She read the front page of the newspaper, while I preferred the Sports section.

It’s not that l think elections or politics are unimportant. I know they are very important. I know many men and women have fought and sacrificed their lives so that we, as Americans, can live in freedom. I never want to take that for granted. I try to make a wise decision come election time, but that is about where my political interest ends.

When America had their election this past November, I enjoyed the extra day off work. I picked up one of my closest friends, and the idea was that she would keep me company as I waited to vote. The church we showed up to ended up being the wrong polling place, but we decided to make the most of the mistake. The playground next to us beckoned our names, and we soon found ourselves swinging, climbing, and running like we had no cares in the world.

Enjoying friendship and freedom in America

And to be honest, we didn’t have any cares. We were in a country that ensured our freedom even on a day when so much was at stake.

Here in Kenya, the scene will be quite different.

The last election caused much unrest. The winner was disputed, and much violence broke out. Over 1,000 people lost their lives, and thousands more were displaced from their homes, some of which have never been able to return. Two of the candidates in this election, the seeming frontrunners, are scheduled to appear before the International Criminal Court in April due to crimes against humanity in the aftermath of the last election. Many speculations surround this upcoming election, whether it will be peaceful, or if it will once again succumb to turmoil and strife.

A poster in our library

As you can imagine then, the election has planted itself in the back of my mind. I am in a safe region, but a level of uncertainty still remains within the country. So on the day when that email found its way to my inbox, I was not that surprised. There is reason for concern.

What that email failed to talk about, however, was my God.

My God gives me every reason NOT to be fearful. “Fear not” is one of the most repeated commands in the entire Bible. Constantly, God tells his people not to be afraid. Just like a small child feels reassured by the presence of his loving, protective father, we can take comfort that our Father knows our needs.

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” [Isaiah 41:10]

You see, God is sovereign. He is sovereign over the big things and sovereign over the little things. And because He is sovereign, we can trust Him. Fully. God’s perspective is much greater than ours. We see things through the scope of our eyes and in light of our experiences; God sees things through the light of eternity, and through his purposes and his glory. When things don’t make sense to us, we can rest in the fact that they make sense to him. He created this world, and loves it deeply. He loves it so much that in seeing its brokenness, he gave His Son so that it could be restored. So that we could be restored.

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” [John 16:33]

The Bible is filled with many people, ordinary people like you and like me, who chose to trust God instead of their fear. I’m sure that Daniel felt afraid as he was lowered into a den full of lions. I’m sure that Esther was anxious as she approached the king without being summoned. I’m sure that Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were fearful moments before they walked into a furnace. These people knowingly put themselves in circumstances that could have and probably should have ended their lives. But they knew that God is who He said He is, and in these instances, God protected his children. He does not always do this, but we know that in every situation, He is most worthy of our deepest trust.

“The Lord is my light and my salvation- whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life- of whom shall I be afraid?” [Psalm 27:1]

So as the Lord brings it to mind, please pray for Kenya and the upcoming election. Pray that those who are bent on disrupting this process would be silenced and disarmed. Pray that God’s presence would be especially real to those in times of crisis. Pray that a man of honesty and integrity would be brought into office. Pray mostly that this nation would be under the leadership of our God, in whom we have nothing to fear.

“Peace is not the absence of conflict, but the presence of God no matter the conflict.”

Praying that these precious children would know peace in their country

All.

A Journal Entry:  Friday, 01/11/13, Day 12.

What does “I surrender all” really mean?

Today, I learned that the Upper Primary school is in great danger of not opening at all due to lack of funds, which of course left me reeling. What about the kids? What would I do? What’s my purpose here?

Just a few hours later, as we were listening to music, the song, “I surrender all” came on. As the questions swirled around me, the lyrics willed me to stop and ponder the words.

All to Jesus I surrender,

All to Him I freely give.

I will ever love and trust him,

In his presence daily live.

You would think this is enough. To leave my family and friends, a steady job, and the comforts of home to come to the middle of the desert with the desire to live and speak the hope I have in Jesus. Does the Lord want to me to surrender even that? My ideas and notions and dreams for why I came here? I know that God is sovereign, and I know that I can trust him, but do I actually believe that when the rubber meets the road?

I spent the last couple days learning and thinking through what it looks like to be a teacher, and I’m pretty stoked for the opportunity. But is that my hope and desire, or Christ’s? What he may want from me could be very different than what I originally planned for. And truly He knows what is best.

“In Him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of His will.” [Ephesians 1:11]

I feel like I am warring with myself. I desperately want the school to open, but above that, may I be able to say that I want desperately for Christ to have his way, whatever that looks like.

Lord, may your will be done. May I surrender all.

~~

Just yesterday, exactly one week after I wrote these words, I stood in front of many eager faces, who were ready to learn whatever math and English knowledge I brought their way. I cannot deny the joy I found in teaching them. Delays, simple accommodations, and lack of resources have no standing when compared to the precious children I have been entrusted with.

The two classrooms that I teach in.
I teach two English classes and one Math to Standard 7 (7th grade) students.

In light of this, it might be easy for me to forget or ignore the questions I was wrestling with only seven days prior. The school has indeed opened, but this does not mean I can surrender anything less than my everything. Sometimes the Lord gives us our desires, and sometimes He gives us new desires. But may our overarching desire be to know Him more, and to surrender anything and everything that stands in the way of that. I am still understanding what “all” looks like, and I will be throughout the whole of my life. But in each moment, both simple and difficult, understandable and incomprehensible, sensible and illogical, may we strive toward that “all.”

Please lift up the school, the 300 students, and the 12 teachers in your prayers. Funding issues have not been resolved, and the teachers are practically volunteering their time as they appreciate whatever sporadic paycheck may come. If you know of any church, organization, or individual who is interested in regularly supporting Biblically-based, Christian education in Kenya, please let me know.

Two of my students, Christine and Chulayo.

I pray that wherever God has us today, we may look to him and say, “I surrender all.” 

On the school grounds. Praising God for this opportunity!

What's in a name?

If you’ve ever visited or lived in an area that doesn’t speak your first language, you know it can be a bit disorienting at first. Everyone seems to be speaking a mile a minute, and all you can do is smile and try not to look as thoroughly confused as you are. If you are prepared, you may have learned a few simple phrases that can help you plow through the muddle.

An aerial view of Korr

I landed in Nairobi on Tuesday amidst Swahili land. And just as soon as I had picked up a few of those key phrases, I was whisked away in a 6-seater airplane into the middle of a land that speaks a language called Rendille.

In front of the plane that got me to Korr!

My teammates and I have been adjusting to our new surroundings, and we’ve had the incredible help of our fourth teammate, Hannah, who has been here for a school term already, and another couple who have been serving here for 30 years. (Yes, you read that right. Thirty years!)

Hannah, me, Misha, Sarah

This couple sat us down on the first evening to give us a bit of an orientation. We all will be teaching at schools in the local area- the other three ladies at the secondary school, and myself at the primary. The schools are given the name Tirrim. I had never really given the name a second thought, other than trying to determine just exactly how it is pronounced (to my best knowledge, TEER-uhm is pretty close).

Tirrim Upper Primary School, where I will be teaching. This is one of three buildings.

What I didn’t realize was what the word Tirrim actually means in Rendille. Here in Korr, many people live in small huts called mins, which are made of sticks to compose the structure, with various cloths to enclose it.

Two mins in the center of town

  

It is also crucial to know that it is quite windy here. It makes the heat bearable, but also puts these small huts at risk of blowing straight away. The most essential part of a min is the kingpost in the center of the house. This is the tirrim. The tirrim allows the house to stand, while also helping it to withstand the high winds. Without the tirrim, the min would most assuredly collapse.

The schools were given this name to remind us who is our kingpost. Who is central and most important in our lives. Who we must depend on unless we be blown over by the forceful winds of this world. Of course, this is our God. God who is our Father, who sent His Son, and whose Spirit lives within those who believe and trust in Him.

“For by him all things were created…and in him, all things hold together.”  [Colossians  1:16a,17b]

I think it is quite appropriate that this was the first Rendille word of which I learned the meaning. Coming such a long way from home, away from everyone and everything familiar is a bit daunting and overwhelming. In moments where those thoughts have crept in, I have needed to consciously remember who is my kingpost, who I must depend on, and for whom I have all reason for living and being. But I can’t be selfish. I don’t want to keep this kingpost to myself. I want to share Him with everyone I meet. I want others to experience his goodness and grace and life-sustaining power. I suppose that’s why I’m here, and why I’m taking the time to tell you about Him. This blog isn’t meant to be a diary of my time in northern Kenya. Yes, I want to relay my experiences, but much more important than that, I want the Kingpost, the Tirrim of life to be known by all.

I will begin teaching at Tirrim Upper Primary School in one week. The start was delayed due to lack of funding, so I ask that you would lift up in prayer the school administrators as they work through the obstacles and the children as they wait one week longer. There is no history of education in Korr, so these students are the beginnings of a generation who can read and write. With education comes many opportunities. Please pray that I would be able to effectively teach these students academic skills, while also conveying the beauty of the gospel, the story of God and his incredible love for the world.

I pray that Jesus would be the Tirrim for my students, but for you as well.

Korr at sunset