Why Bubbles Don’t Work.

Life is not a bubble. As much as I try to create a safe-zone that happens to be flimsy, translucent and encircles me, life is not a bubble.

We spent New Year’s Eve with German, British, Irish, and two other American missionaries who were all so fabulous in every unique way possible. I loved investing in them, getting to know them and sharing our deep love for the Savior with them. I loved praying in the year, singing worship songs, and aligning our hearts to seek Christ in all things in 2012. But that sweet, little, enjoyable bubble didn’t last.

Let me back up a little. Can I be totally honest here? Of course I can. This is my blog. I didn’t want the Europeans to come over on New Year’s Eve. I thought, “Thirteen people? Here? I can’t entertain that many people. What if they have an awful time and hate us?” Anxiety set in. Of course, these thoughts were highly irrational. I usually am able to humble myself and admit this after I’ve had a rare case of irration-ability (yes, I made that word up). Nonetheless, this was not the first time that week that fears, anxieties, and undealt with emotions have had a foothold/stronghold effect on me.

I have a fear of going outside. Sounds crazy huh? Just wait, it really isn’t that insane. It is easier to stay inside than to see the faces of the women who are living and begging for food and money on our street. It is easier to hide from the hundreds of Talibe boys who grow up without family, who beg on the streets, and who are often sexually abused. It is just easier for your heart not to break for the people here who do not know the name of the One who brings salvation.

So, insert bubble. Last week, my bubble was my home. Once that bubble was burst, I recreated it briefly with our new Euro-American city. Now that they have all left Dakar, and we’re back to work, my bubble has burst once again. And this time, it is good. It hurts, but it is so good.

Bubbles don’t work. They are not reality. My reality is that I serve with a team of eight Christ-followers in a nation where 95% of people do not have hope, where up to 12 students live together in one dorm that is smaller than my kitchen, where friends have been kicked out of their homes for giving their lives to Jesus, where friends do not know where their next meal is going to come from. I am serving God in a place where He is. Despite the circumstances, despite what my anxieties, fears, and failures try to tell me, God is here and He is good.

The reality is that God wants to use me here. I’m realizing that ministry is going to look different in Senegal than I thought it would three months ago. And that’s okay. I am learning that I’m here because God lead me here. He wants to lead me still. Despite my expectations of what everyday “should” look like, I am praying that I would follow faithfully in every moment. I am praying that I would surrender to the Spirit’s prompting even if it doesn’t fit into my schedule. I pray that I would put His will before my will in all things. I pray that I would commit to trusting Him for my security instead of running to things I feel I have control over.

My security and comforts are being gently removed so that the only thing I have left is Christ. And I pray the same for you. I am being beautifully broken in the sweetest way possible. And all I want to know is Christ and Him crucified.

Christmas Eve In Africa

we made cookies.

we opened a present from WhitLo's mom!

All us girls even slept in the same room!

And that room we slept in, might have been the kitchen.

Joyeux Noel

Last night we hosted our major Christmas outreach party that included Senegalese students, Congolese staff and us American STINTers. We had five female students show up and eight-plus male students. We sang Christmas carols, told the Christmas Candy Cane story, danced, played games, shared how God gave us the best gift of all over 2,000 years ago, and even did a gift exchange. It was a so much fun.

It’s crazy to know that at all of our Christmas outreaches, every single woman that has attended has never celebrated Christmas. Making ornaments, decorating cookies, White Elephant, hearing the story of Jesus’ birth from one of the gospels is all new to them. It’s so exciting watching these women be given a childhood again, even if only for a moment.

Here are some photos for you to enjoy:

Rach, Whit and I

We're missing two other women students from this photo, but here's most of the women!

An Island of Bugs

On our less than leisurely stroll to campus this morning, my sweet roommate Whitney turned around and asked, “How long was I laughing last night?” Random question I suppose, but not too random because little miss Whitney laughs more than any other person I know. Nonetheless, I was slightly confused as to what she was talking about.

told you.

“Huh?,” I said. “Last night, when you were sleeping.”-Whitney. Okay. This conversation is getting weirder and weirder. “What are you talking about?!”-Me. Whit responded, “Last night, I was laughing in my sleep and it apparently woke you up. You sat up in your bed and told me to stop laughing, and that you were on an island of bugs.”

Ladies and gents, I knew I responded to people  in my sleep, but I had no clue that I arise out of my REM to let the world know the ridiculous thoughts that are livestreaming across my mind. Nonetheless, I cracked up and tried really hard to remember doing that. I couldn’t remember anything except for hearing Whitney briefly laugh in her sleep. I thought I decided not to wake her up because that would be rude, but I guess subconsciously I just wanted her to know that I was living on an island of bugs.

This story holds no weight to the one I’m about to tell. My other little roommate, Rachel, yells in her sleep. This story takes place in Chicago at STINT briefing. Rachel, Whitney, Michelle and I shared a hotel room that week. Rachel and I shared a bed.

 

We celebrated Lil' Rachel's 24th birthday at STINT briefing in Chicago.

 

In the middle of the night on our third night there,  Rachel quickly sits up and screams, “There’s a rat in here!” I shoot up, turn on the light and start searching for the rat. Out of the corner of my eye I see Rachel start slowly slipping back under the bedsheets and then her head calmly hits the pillow. What? “Rachel, where is it?” She responds, “Where’s what?” Me: “The rat. You just screamed about a rat.” And the sweetest most innocent chuckle and reply came, “Oh, I did? Sorry about that.”

So.. there’s no rat? I lost it. I uncontrollably, hysterically laughed for a good 10 minutes. I laughed so hard that I woke up Michelle, and couldn’t fall back asleep for another hour. I’d finally get control of my giggles, and then silently lose it not even four seconds later. Gosh. It was so funny.

So, ladies and gents I would just like to let you know, I talk in my sleep. Normally that kind of stuff would make me feel really insecure and crazy, but my one roommate laughs in her sleep and the other one screams. I guess I’m pretty normal.

Jeremy Camp:ReWind

Well, there are so many things to say that I can’t quite think rightly of any which thing to speak of first.  That’s the kind of mood I’m in. Enjoy. I have been singing a little ditty in my head for a little over a week now. The song: There Will Be A Day, by Jeremy Camp and Mary Smith. Allow me to divulge…

Senegal is dirty. I don’t mean disgusting and filthy, I really do mean there is a lot of dirt. We’re located right around the same area as the Sahara belt and the ever present drought continues to worsen our crusty condition. Our apartment, no matter how many times a day I sweep, always has a wonderful film covering our white-tile floors (don’t even ask me why anyone would put white tile across an entire apartment here…). Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, my feet have become permanently stained, and no this is not from my meticulously scribed tattoo.

As a part of attempting to keep my bedsheets clean, I either wash my feet before bed (this doesn’t always work that well because the walk from the bathroom to bed re-dirties my feet) or use baby wipes to remove the numerous impurities from my delicate pieds. One night a few weeks ago, I decided to go the baby wipes route. After seven, I repeat SEVEN, baby wipes my feet were still dirty. And what’s worse was those seven wipes were my last.

I defeatedly swiveled into bed and longingly stared at my feet as if they would magically transform into professionally pampered and polished feet.  It was then that the lyrics just came to me: “there will be a day with no more dirt, grody feet, dirty sheets, but until that dayyyyy…. la la la. etc.” I know, I know. How did I come up with such brilliant lyrics? Like I said, it just came to me.

So, this blog actually has no pupose except to inform you that for the past week and a half my sheets have been trampled upon by my very own contaminated feet, but there is hope that one day (this week?) I will have clean sheets. And that there will be a day when I will look back and actually miss sweeping our apartment multiple times a day (ha, trust me.. that day has not yet arrived). I’m going to miss looking down at my dirt lines on my feet and thinking, “Man I got so tan today,” only to be reminded that I’m still so white after a good scrubbing (you think I’d learn this one after 3 months…). I’m going to miss the constant reminder that beautiful are the feet of those who bring the good news.  I’m going to miss seeing the leftover journeys from the day on the roughened bottom of my feet.

I know we aren’t even half-way through with our internship here, but I really have come to love the little common inconveniences. Not that I delight in them or anything, but I love the feelings of uncomfortability they produce. I love knowing that this world cannot satisfy and that I am a sinner. I love seeing how easily common inconveniences can cause me to fall short because it automatically shows me the vastness of the grace and mercy of our holy and righteous God. I love the growth that comes from being frustrated, feeling defeated and unsure. Don’t get me wrong, I do not love my sin, sinful flesh, and sinful reactions. In fact, I hate those things. But, when I’m weak I am able to see that He is strong. When I’m defeated, I can rest in the truth that He is victorious and has made me victorious. These times of inconveniences are bitter sweet, but when I have an eternal perspective they are just sweet.

They are just sweet.

“I, the preacher of this hour, beg to bear my little witness that the worst days I have ever had have turned out to be my best days, and when God has seemed most cruel to me he has then been most kind. If there is anything in this world for which I would bless him more than for anything else it is for pain and affliction. I am sure that in these things the richest, tenderest love has been manifested towards me. I pray you, dear friends, if you are at this time very low, and greatly distressed, encourage yourselves in the abundant faithfulness of the God who hides himself. Our Father’s wagons rumble most heavily when they are bringing us the richest freight of the bullion of his grace. Love letters from heaven are often sent in black-edged envelopes. The cloud that is black with horror is big with mercy. We may not ask for trouble, but if we were wise we should look upon it as the shadow of an unusually great blessing.

-Charles Spurgeon”

Happy Late Thanksgiving!

Hello dear friends, family, and ministry supporters!

Happy late Thanksgiving! As I am sure you were as well, we’ve been crazy busy lately. Last week (Tuesday I think) we hosted a ministry Thanksgiving party for our Congolese co-laborers and for a few students who became followers of Jesus through Campus Pour Christ. It was so much fun. We cooked them chicken (poulet), rice (riz blac), corn pudding (mais something), mashed potatoes (pomme de terre purree), chocolate chip cake (un gateau avec les morsels de chocolat?), and some other things that I can’t remember.

We started out the night making turkeys out of our hands. I wish I took a picture of them so I could show you, but unfortunately I didn’t think about that. I know one of my fellow STINTers did, so I’ll make them post it on Facebook so I can steal it. You can’t judge me by the way my turkey looks though. I’m fully convinced my eldest sister got all of the artistic genes in our family. I actually might have forgotten to put feet and legs on the little guy… And you don’t even wanna know what his face looks like. I kind of forget turkeys had beaks, so I drew a smiley face instead. It’s a mess…

After I completely invented a new species of turkey, we wrote on our turkey’s belly our favorite bible verse. The passage that came to mind first was Isa. 55:8-9. I love that verse! It is one that I’m having to constantly remind myself of.

On Thursday, my team and I spent a majority of the day cooking a marvelous feast. A few of Rachel’s supporters sent her a box full of holiday fixings (have I mentioned that I love fixins‘?). So we had all the ingredients to make stuffing and greenbean casserole which are truly the only things I care about on Thanksgiving. Oh wait, I love cranberry sauce too, but without the cranberries. Paige, who is our team chef, made homemade honey-whole-wheat rolls. She even tied the dough in a knot so it looked fancy. Katie and Jean-Marc made little apple pies that actually caught our oven on fire (just a small little fire inside the oven, no big deal). Rachel made an apple crisp dessert that tasted really good until she told me that she accidentally added 2 cups of butter instead of one cup of butter.

We ended our Thanksgiving night by doing something to symbolize us forgetting the old and embracing the new: watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

I have been thinking about all the things that I’m thankful for. Truly, I am thankful for your prayers for this ministry and for people weekly asking God to move in this country. I am thankful for the constant encouragement we receive from family and friends back home; it always comes at the most appropriate times. I am thankful for ministry supporters who sacrifice financially on a monthly basis to support God’s work in Dakar. I am so thankful for those who supported us by giving a one time donation. We couldn’t have gotten to Dakar without you’re help.

I am furthermore thankful for God’s saving grace. I’m thankful for the word and for being literate so I can read it. I’m thankful He’s placed me in a city where there is so much physical need and spiritual need. I’m thankful that He’s teaching me to be a good steward of my time, money and efforts. I’m thankful that when I am a bad steward of love, grace, generosity, etc. that grace abounds for that sin and there is forgiveness.

Thank you for helping this ministry thrive in Dakar. Thank you for your support, prayers, and interest in God redeeming the nations. You are much more appreciated than you’ll ever know.

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.

“And all the world will praise Your great name”

After throwing our Halloween party tonight and getting the opportunity to share with 6 Muslim friends about how Jesus has changed my life, I’m resting in the hope that all the world will praise His great name. I am praying that my friends here will know the God of the universe as Lord, King, Comforter, Friend, and Savior of the world. I pray that they will know the full extent of God’s love for them, that Christ meets us where we are and doesn’t need us to clean ourselves up in order to approach Him.

I ask that those of you who have given your lives to God and put your faith and trust in what Jesus did for you on the cross, that you’d listen to this song and praise God for what He’s done in your life. Please pray these lyrics for the six women that came to tonight’s party. Pray that the lost are saved, that they find their way at the proclamation of Christ, that they will know God’s forgiveness, that they would see the sacrifice Jesus made was the only way to God. Pray that healing would occur in these precious women’s lives. Pray for the sick students that couldn’t come tonight. Praise Jesus!

The Character and Nature of Christ In Us

 I’ve been going through the book of Colossians for the past 3 months. It’s been great to go through a small section, meditate on it, chew on it, and dive deep into what God is trying to tell me. I’ve been in Colossians 3:12-13 for over a week. It’s been more of a practical application rather than a “sit and study” type of passage. There are several things in scripture that we can logically study and never gain any heart knowledge from or learn how to be obedient with (ie: patience, love, serving, humbleness, meekness, etc). I can read all day about how we are to love our Christian brothers and sisters and Christ and still fall desperately short of God’s glorious standard of what perfect love is. Relying upon my own knowledge will never produce the fruits that come from being connected to the Vine.

Colossians 3:12-13 says, “Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience,  bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.”

The “Put on then…” part is an implication segment which points back to verses 5-11 where Paul tells us to take off what is earthly in us (impurity, sexual immorality, evil desire, anger, wrath, malice, etc). This is also known as dying to self or putting to death the flesh. So, we’ve taken off the bad and we’re putting on compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness and patience. How lovely. That was a good read. I’m done. Right?

Walking in this new life God has for me is an act of my will. Salvation is through His grace alone and not of anything I could ever do, but I have the active choice to daily take off the flesh and put on Christ.

One of the cool things about these verses was that all of these attributes are what accurately represents Christ. Compassionate hearts: He has compassion on the masses (Matthew 9:36). Kindness: He dies on the cross for wicked, rebellious people (Eph. 2:7). Humility: He, who is God, humbled Himself to the Father’s will and died for us (Philippians 2:8). Meekness: Jesus bore the sinner’s cross, although He knew no sin, so that we might become the righteousness of God (2 Corinthians 5:21). And finally, patience: I know this isn’t the most appropriate description, but sin screwed up God’s masterpiece. Sin entered the world because of our representative, Adam. After God made atonement for sin, we still rebell. And again. And Again. And again. And yet, He still loves us. He is in a constant pursuit to restore us back to Him, which is why He sent His son to die on the cross for us. If that isn’t a perfect example of patience, I don’t know what is.

We’re here, all people, to be a representative of God. We’re here to give Him glory by reflecting His character.  Christ was all of these things. We are to walk in step with God to show those around us who God is.

A lot of our Muslim students will say, “The Qur’an is a lot like the Bible. It tells you what to do and what not to do.” Friend, the Bible explains how you can be reconciled to God and how to walk with Him after you’ve been reconciled to Him through Christ’s death on the cross. It isn’t a list of things to do and not do in order to present yourself as blameless before God. We cannot make ourself clean enough before Him.

As Paul would say, I am not perfect and have not obtained perfection. I still struggle with putting to death the flesh and choosing God over my impatience, frustration, bitterness, and overall moodiness. I just think it is very cool to learn that the sanctification process isn’t about us. It’s about God refining us so that we can more accurately represent Him in the world and give Him all the glory. Super cool.

Je suis desolee

I am so sorry I have neglected you my dear wordpress readers! I can’t even describe how busy we’ve been the past week and a half. But busy is good! I am attempting to work on my newsletter soon, so you will get something better than this post soon! I’m currently working on our content for a meeting tomorrow, so I’m a little scatter brained right now. Sorry! You will get a better post soon! I promise!

But, I wanted to share with you a photo from our first “Welcome Back” party. Here’s us with some of our girls! There were over 20 girls that came and were presented the gospel in a large setting and one-on-one. We’ve met with a few of these students and a lot of them are so close to receiving Christ. Please continue to be praying for our students at UCAD.