Dear _____,

It’s that time again for a new blog post, but I ran out of new and creative ideas for blogs. I hope you don’t mind I’ve stolen this topic from a fellow missionary (Jenn). I hope you enjoy it!

Dear Dust Storm 2012,

I really, really love the wind you bring to Dakar. The cool spring breeze upon my freshly sunkissed face is marvelous. I can’t explain to people how much I love it when you make my hair dance in the wind.

This picture is of a missionary friend, Tricia’s, house. They got it worse than we did for sure!

What I don’t like about you, however, is that when my happiness eludes me and a large smile sweeps across my face, you- in all your glory- hit me in the face with excess dirt. I am getting rather sick of having brushed my pearly whites, only minutes later to feel like I bit the dust while running down a sand dune (Katie).

This just isn’t working out for me. I might see you around, but I really would prefer for you to clean yourself up next time around.

Sincerely,

Crusty.

Dear Ladies Outside the Mosque,

I. Love. You. Buganala torop.

I love the fact that we don’t speak each other’s language, yet we get so much joy out of seeing each other. One day, I would love to be able to sit with you and find out about your life. If only I could speak Pular, Wolof, and Serar… un jour mes amies… un jour!

Even though I can see the hardness of African life on every wrinkle on your face, I think you are all so beautiful. You are all so unique and welcoming. You were created for a purpose and you are so incredibly loved by the maker of Heaven and Earth.

Sincerely,

Yaangi Ci Sama Xol, Buganala

Dear Americans Who Donate Clothes To Africa,

Please do not send used underwear.

Sincerely,

Person Who Sifts Through “Gently” Used Underwear At The Market

The Depth of the Hurt

I’ve been thinking about blogging about this incident for a few weeks now, but I haven’t been able to truly process it fully (to be frank, I still haven’t). There is are more layers to this story, but for the sake of your time I’ll try to give a little summary. Please bear with me as this blog might be a little bit scattered and probably long. *Also, feel free to share this blog with people, but please don’t tag me in it on Facebook. This is a highly sensitive post and could be controversial and problematic with my students. So, again, feel free to share it, but please make sure it stays off of my Facebook for the sake of the gospel.

A few weeks ago, Rachel and I went on campus to try to meet new students. We had a pretty good day practicing our Wolof and French and meeting students who were waiting to find our their grades from the summer’s exams. As we were leaving campus, this male student came up to us and acted like he knew us. I thought that he looked familiar and was a friend’s, Oumy’s, boyfriend. So I started talking with him. Not even 45-seconds into the conversation I realized that he was not Oumy’s boyfriend.

This student starts talking to us about why we’re in Senegal. We tell him that we’re working with Campus Pour Christ (by the way, that’s the name for Campus Cru. for Christ in Senegal). And he tells us that he’s seen a bunch of Americans here over the summer and during the past two years. That was actually the most encouraging part of our conversation. He had seen previous missionaries on the campus and our summer project team from earlier this summer. I thought maybe he had been exposed to the gospel. After that “intro” to conversation it went sour. 

He began to talk to us about “beach girls” in America. For the sake of my supporters who might be reading this, know he wasn’t trying to say beach. He was talking about prostitutes in the United States but referring to them in a duragatory way. And once I figured out what he was talking about I quickly said their situation was sad. He asked why and I responded with, “Because they don’t know the extent of God’s love for them and that they don’t have to live like that.” He started to talk about prostitution in a glorifying way. My heart started to break/become enraged. One of my hopes and dreams is to help get women who are in bondage to prostitution off the streets and walking with the Lord.

 He then brought up the depth of poverty here.  Now, I have seen the poverty gap here. We went over this one. Right, God?  This student told us that there was nothing wrong with selling sex and selling one’s own body. He continued to tell Rachel and I how he has to prostitute himself in order to have food. The simple question he posed, “Have you eaten your breakfast today?” made me sick to my stomach realizing the amount of food we have in our kitchen could feed this man for a year. He has to give the only thing he has to live. He described this “necessary evil” as something that was good. He claimed, “Since God is the creator of good and bad, whose fault is it when we choose bad? God’s. And if God created evil, is evil even bad?”

This broken man was trying to justify the wrong that had been done to him by ignoring the fact that evil even exists.

I think that moment, for several reasons, was my breaking point. I came home and walked into Michelle’s, Paige’s and Katie’s apartment and just cried. I was frustrated that the guy didn’t understand that God is good and in Him is no darkness. I was frustrated that he crossed a social boundary by talking about that stuff with women, especially because he brought that up in front of sweet, innocent, pure, little Rachel. But most of all, I was angry that he showed me a part of African life that I had been choosing not to see. That conversation opened my eyes to the depth of the hurt that exists here. Sometimes I’m so very disillusioned by the mask that my students wear so well. Sure, life is hard here, but they’re making it. They don’t even think they need God, so why am I here? In this converstation I saw it especially. The lies, the mutilation, the death, and destruction… Satan’s rule and reign is so strong here. Where was my God?

I wrote later in my journal:

“Lord Jesus, how overwhelmed and defeated do I feel in this battle? I cannot see past these battles in front of me to see Your faithfulness and Your heart to redeem these people. I am stuck in combat without the slightest hint that the war has already been won… I am wanting to see the gospel go forth and for people to come to know you, but that isn’t happening. Lord, do you even care for these people?”

To which He replied,

“I have conquered sin through my Son’s death and resurrection. I have already won the war, and even though you don’t feel like it, I’m fighting your battles for you. My timing is perfect, and my ways are not your ways. My love for that man is great, much greater than you can imagine. I do love these people way more than you do. My word never returns void even though you might not see how it permeates the human heart. I am faithful to the least of these and have a redemption plan for all the nations. Do you trust me?”

I am learning that my questions really are a perfect representation of my view of God. What do I believe about His character? Me asking if He loves the Senegalese is basically saying, “Hey God, I don’t trust that Your character is always the same with everyone, and Your word might not be true about your love for every single person.” He loves them more than I can imagine. Everytime I am asking God “why?” on their behalf, He reminds me that although I do love them very much, they are not mine. My Senegalese student’s are His. Do I trust Him with them? Do I trust Him to open the eyes of Miriama, Oumy, DiaDia, Isatou, and Awa’s hearts? Or do I think I am more able?

I’m growing more and more while being here, but it isn’t pain free. There are things I’ve seen, things I’ve experienced and things I’ve heard that grieve the heart of God. I’m learning more and more that when I asked to be His hands and feet, I was given His eyes, ears, and heart.

I am so thankful for this experience to be able to mirror Jesus to 60,000 college students. I’ve been able to see the depth of hurt, pain and evil here. But what I know from experience is way more powerful than any darkness. God is Lord over all. He is author of creation. He is King of kings. He is bigger than our trials.

I am here to testify that my God is good and does good. The God of the universe is orchestrating and weaving events in our daily life for our good. I am here to “have a big, high, right view of God and [have] my life testify to it and my lips proclaim it.”- Ryan Kucera. I am here to show a sick, fallen world the Healer and Redeemer. I am here to tell people that the only thing we have to give to God is our lives and that is where we find true life. I count it as joy to be able to serve Christ in this way, knowing that though there might be heartache, God is worth every, single ounce of it.

Inside Out and Upside Down

Well, let me tell you something. There’s this foreign word, I think it originated from China, called “laundry.” Laundry, pronounced lawn-dree, is as Michelle would say “character building.” Doing laundry in a second-world/developing country is very different than doing laundry in America. In fact when I told our landlord, Sueleman (we call him Sillyman), that I had never seen laundry being hand washed, he was amazed. And then he proceeded to tell me the days that his maid does laundry on our roof and told me to go watch her and learn. Basically here’s the Senegalese translation for that, “You would make an awful Senegalese wife. Go learn how to do laundry for your husband.”

So here’s a few things I have gotten to experience and learn whilst doing laundry in Senegal. The list will be short because we’ve only been here 2 weeks. I’m sure more character will be built the larger the loads get.

1. Clothes get very dirty here. I can promise you that for the most part, we don’t roll around in dirt. I inherited a skirt and a pair of gauchos from a previous missionary who I swear might have had a part time job as a Senegalese mud-wrestler. In general, we’re pretty “clean.” After washing 1 pair of pants, the tub that was full of soapy water had turned black. Okay. Drain. Start all over again. One skirt and two shirts later, black water again. Seriously? Okay. Drain. Start all over again.

Gospel parallel: We think we are “pretty clean” before God. Our mindset is, “We might sweat a little, get a few stains on us, but trust me I’m not as bad as that person.” It’s not long before we realize the lie in that. One pair of pants turned the clean water black. Even one sin makes us unholy and unable to stand before the Holy of holies. Our active rebellion turns our hearts black. We need Jesus to cleanse us and reconcile us into a right relationship with God. Christ can present us as holy and blameless before God and wash us by the cleansing of God’s word. Amazing!

2. There’s something to say about washing clothes to get them clean versus washing them just so they smell good. I started out strong; I promise I did. I scrubbed my clothes together and even swooshed them around in a cyclical pattern like an american washer would. After the second set of clothes, I was just ready to have my laundry done. It was slightly pathetic. I imagined myself as a frustrated kid, leaning over the tub with his chin on the side, dabbling in the mirky water. Defeated.

Gospel Parallel: How often do I try to cover up sin with the scent of goodness rather than repentance? Matt Chandler, a pastor in Dallas, Texas, would say that a sign of Christian maturity is when you screw up and rather than running from God and attempting to clean yourself up, you run to God because you know that’s where mercy. grace, and forgiveness lies. Whoops. Sometimes I’m obedient, quick to repent, and eager to grasp His forgiveness. Other times though, I try to mask the dirt with a quick cleanse. This generally leaves me figuratively leaning over the tub dabbling in the water while my Father calls me to Himself. “Mary, my grace is sufficient even for you.”

3. You must line dry your clothes inside out and upside down to prevent stretching and color fading. One of the things about living in a foreign country that I “love” is how inside out and upside down I am here. “Naanga Def?”-stranger speaking Wolof. “Pardon me? I mean… Pardon moi?”-Mary speaking franglish. Oy veh! By the way, the correct response to Naanga def is Maangi fi. Stepping back from this situation, the language barrier thing isn’t a big deal. Too bad I’m not five feet from my “conversations” with the Senegalese (which most are bilingual, but no anglais). I’m right in the middle of it. I’m learning how my worst character traits are over-magnified here in the high stress situations. Grace, good, great, grace; How aware I am becoming of my need for you!

Gospel Parallel: We never “arrive.” And if we do, we’re dead. And praise the Lord for the day when I am able to stand before Him as holy and blameless in my new glorified body. But, that day has not yet come. I’m still battling the flesh and constantly learning how much I fall short of God’s beautiful standard. I’m being stretched in ways I’d never imagined. I’m learning how to be acclimated into another culture and still be me. But at the same time I’m learning how much I need to become less, so that He can become greater. It has been interesting to say the least. I am thankful that although I am far from perfect, God is in constant pursuit of me. He loves me with a steadfast love that abounds to all nations.

So that’s it. That’s my dirty laundry. All in all, I’m just being a drama queen. Laundry was not that bad. When I completed all my dirty clothes, I felt so accomplished! I can’t wait to update you all next. Thanks so much for reading and investing in this ministry! Merci beaucoup! Jerrijeff!

Thanks for extending grace and not judging me too harshly.

Week One in Senegal

Dearest Readers,

Sorry this has taken me so long to update you! We finally got here last Thursday in the a.m. Our internet at our apartment hadn’t been working all week until yesterday, so it was nearly impossible to keep in touch with everyone during the short times we did have internet at LGM (a restaurant with wee-fee/wi-fi). Also, I’d just like to let you know it will be hard to keep skype dates due to the fact that we frequently lose power for no other reason than the people who have control of it want to turn it off. We don’t have a generator at our apartment, so when the power goes off we resort to candles and flashlights. And no, we don’t have air conditioning just in case you were wondering. We sleep with the windows open which brings in a nice, cool breeze…. sometimes.

So, that’s that! Now onto Senegal. Well, I don’t know that I ever actually was able to picture what it would look like here, but it’s different than I expected. It’s going to take some getting used to, but it’s growing on me-slowly but surely. Dakar is a very busy city. Downtown is crazy, and the airport is insane. I’d say avoid the airport while traveling here, but that’s near impossible. The wealth to poverty gap is huge and it’s really hard to see. I’ll save that for another post though. There are mosques (Islamic centers of worship) everywhere. We live right next to one; the call to prayer wakes everyone up at 5:30 a.m. I’ve always been a heavy sleeper though so….

The people are really, really friendly here. For instance, our plumber promised to come by two days ago and didn’t show up until 10:30 p.m.. We had just finished our meal of homemade mashed potatoes, mac n cheese, bean salad, and fruit salad. So, we made him a plate too! And he sat down at our table and ate! It was so funny. He was laughing the whole time. I secretly think he hated the food and just needed a different facial expression besides “YUK!”

I have so many other stories to share (ie: the machete man, the bissop lady, and riding the Car Rapide) but that’ll have to wait for another day. We are headed down to the fabric store tomorrow morning to buy fabric and get Senegalese clothes made. We apparently look too “Toubab-ish” (Toubab means white people/foreigners). I can see that.

Enjoy this song, these pictures of Senegal and be thankful! I am excited to keep you all posted on future ministry plans and what God is doing here!

This is called the Corneash. It's the side of the African continent that we're on. Cool huh?

A random floating statue of Africa.