What's in Your Hand?

After my first trip to Africa - Uganda, to be exact - I came home with tons to process.  It was my first encounter with extreme poverty face to face and I felt like it ripped open my insides.  Seriously - like I was raw and bleeding.  I'll never forget riding in the bus on a long, dirt road and passing a little boy...he couldn't have been more than three.  He was walking all by himself barefoot with not another person in sight for as far as I could see.  He was completely alone.  If we saw that scene unfold in America, we'd be slamming on our brakes and bringing that child with us.  There would be none of this leaving him on the street by himself business.  But in Uganda, we drove on by.  If we had stopped for every child who was walking alone we'd never have made it down the road. It is life there.


I've had several people who have traveled and seen this sort of thing personally, ask me how to cope with their life here in America after witnessing such pain in other places.  I'd like to say it gets easier with every trip.  For me it doesn't get easier, but it has become different.  I remember after my first two trips to Africa coming home and feeling this insane tension inside of me.  How do I go back to my air conditioned home with my full refrigerator, cable television and every single comfort I could possibly want? How do I turn on one of the 8 faucets in my house and have immediate access to clean water when people risk their very lives walking miles and miles a day to find it?  How do I open my closet and decide which of my 12 pairs of shoes I should put on for the day when so many go barefoot and have jiggers burrowing up into their feet? How is it I can find myself complaining about my job when literally millions would give anything for the chance to work like I do?  As I lay in the comfort of my down blankets and soft mattress at night, how can I not help but think of the children who lay their heads down on the dirt - left alone.

I am talking about TENSION in the truest sense of the word.  Let's be honest.  We abhor tension.  We hate anything that causes us discomfort.  And when I came back from Uganda I just wanted to be rid of it. I wanted to figure out how to make it go away and stay away.  I didn't want to have the internal struggle about how much I had and how little they did.  I didn't want to feel guilty for getting Starbucks or going to the movies.  As much as I know God was trying to break my heart and help me embrace the poor and the orphaned, there was a very real part of me that just wanted their faces to disappear from my memory.  I didn't really know how to handle all the tension and inner turmoil I felt, and to be frank, I still don't.  But this last trip to Ethiopia helped me realize some things. 


I hope that what I'm learning on this journey might help some of you who feel the same way I do - torn. I know all of our paths and journeys are different, but at their core they are the same because God is always the same.  His heart will always beat for the marginalized and the oppressed.  So, that means our hearts should always beat for them too.  And in that, we are the same.  We are responsible.  We are called to do something.


I think that what I'm learning now is that as much as I want to sprint the opposite direction of this tension, there is some tension that is good - God given, even.  Rather than fight it, ignore it, choke on it or hate it - I am learning to embrace it.  The tension keeps the realities that our brothers and sisters all over the world face real for me.  It keeps them always before me.  I almost would liken this kind of tension to a burden.  There are different kinds of burdens.  There are the heavy kind that we feel we might collapse under, then there are the burdens that are almost like extensions of ourselves.  They inhabit our hearts and thoughts...they can actually bring us joy because they are rooted in love.  There was a period of time where I thought I might collapse under the knowledge of how people were living.  I felt like I was suffocating in my own life - held captive by the pictures of distended bellies, gaping wounds, empty eyes and crying children. I came through that rather heavy season of my life by both accepting the things that God was teaching me and learning that I wasn't helpless to make a difference.


But this other kind of tension doesn't feel so heavy.  In fact, it even feels hopeful.   I have actually found myself praying over the past few weeks that God wouldn't take this tension away.  It's what keeps me compassionate, engaged and on my knees in prayer.  I have seen the heartbreak and the oppression up close- I know the wretched marks it leaves on people.  But I have also seen unspeakable hope spring up in places that you just don't expect it to.  And that is what we hold onto - HOPE.  Some days hope comes easy, and others we have to tenaciously fight for it.  But it is always there.  It doesn't go away.  Part of what gives us hope is discovering our purpose.  If we are called to care for the poor, the orphan and the widow (which we ARE!), then discovering how God wants us to be engaged in that is a critical step in coming to some sense of peace within ourselves.  The other helpful (and quite obvious!) realization is that I cannot fix all the brokenness on my own. I could spend a lifetime trying but it would never happen.  That's God's job.  I get to participate, but I, by myself, am not the answer. My job is to love and obey wherever, whenever, however God asks me to.


For those of us who believe in God, we know that this world is not our home.  We live in the constant tension of that.  Our hearts ache for God's complete and full reign here on earth because only then will there be no suffering and pain.  Only then will our tension vanish before our eyes.  But we are to bring heaven to earth now.  Remember how Jesus prayed a little prayer where he said "Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven"? We do not sit here aimlessly and pine away for the future.  We bring the reality of God's love, hope and restoration to the suffering and marginalized NOW.  Does the act of truly seeing the needs of this world turn our stomachs?  Does it cause us to question the way we live our lives in pursuit of the American dream? Does it cost us to enter into someone else's pain?  Might we be asked to give up everything we know? Is there any peace or joy in the process of having our hearts torn open and our lives turned upside down? Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES!!

God hasn't created us to live sad, miserable, broken lives.  He has created us for abundant life in Him.  While our engagement in caring for the poor might cause our world to be shaken up and our hearts to ache and be burdened - there is tremendous joy in this journey of loving others.  When we look at Jesus' life, we see him weeping over the pain of others and literally carrying the weight of the world's sin on his shoulders.  But he also got to see the lame walk, the the blind see, the sick healed.  These things must have filled Jesus with pleasure.  You don't watch someone who has never even stood up, pick up their mat and run and leap for joy without feeling an incredible sense of delight!  And so, we hold both the pain of those who suffer and the joy of seeing lives transformed in both hands.  If we never knew pain, we would never know joy. 

Some days are HARD.  I was face down on my floor two days ago weeping (like ugly snot cry...you know the one) and praying for people on the other side of the world who face such extreme hardship.  I thought my heart would explode from the weight of it.  Then there are days where you get news that catapults you to the heights of joy because a prayer was answered or you got to see transformation in the life of someone in need - you got to experience the kingdom brought to earth.

So really, coping is embracing all that God has for us - the good, the hard, the beautiful, the ugly, the seemingly impossible.  It is by Him and through Him that all things hold together.  We couldn't hold anything together if we wanted to.  We just have to approach God with willing hearts and open hands for whatever it is that He wants to give us.  The tension that may come from that is GOOD, a blessing really. I might even go so far to say that if we aren't experiencing this kind of tension as we walk out our love for God on this earth, then maybe we're missing something.

As to exactly what your part is to play in God's purposes here on earth...that's for you to find out. :) And in my opinion, finding out is half the fun!  I'll leave you with some wise words from Norma Cook...

We read in the Bible that Moses had been tending sheep out in the desert when God called him to lead a huge flock of people on a perilous journey to the Promised Land. Of course, Moses felt inadequate, and told God so! God asked Moses, “What is that in your hand?” “A rod”, Moses replied—just a simple tool of the trade for a sheep herder. Then God showed Moses that even simple tools and simple people can be used in mighty ways when yielded to an Almighty God.  Maybe God is showing you a need that you feel inadequate to meet. Your resources are insufficient and your skills are lacking. God couldn’t possibly use someone like you…could He?

2 Corinthians 8:12 tells us: 'If there is first a willing mind, it is accepted according to what a person has, not what he doesn’t have.' So…what is that in your hand? A pen, a phone, or car keys? A hammer, a wrench, or a shovel? A mixing bowl, knitting needles, or a musical instrument? When offered to God in service to others, it can accomplish a great purpose. It all starts with a tender heart and willing hands—yours and mine. And together, we’ll see God change this world - one person at a time.

So, what's in your hand?? 

The Rest Is Noise

It has been one of those weeks.  We've had a stomach virus at our house this week.  It's always made worse when mom has it. :)  My patience is thin and my capacity is lessened.  My poor kids.  I had my two youngest home from school with me today after a night of all of us being sick.  They were hungry and the thought of having to make them food literally sickened me.  But, they had to eat so I pulled a can of chicken noodle soup out of my fully stocked cabinet.  I opened it, dumped it in the pot and turned the sink on to fill up the can with water.  I stirred it and set it on the stove.  In a few minutes it was done and I pulled a few other things out of the fridge, filled some glasses up with water and lunch was served.

I grabbed some medicine out of the cabinet, popped a few pills and went and laid on the couch while my kids ate.  A while later I picked up my laptop to do some work so I wouldn't get too far behind.  All the while, I was inwardly (okay, and outwardly too!) complaining.

But then I started thinking about some of my neighbors in other parts of the world.  I started thinking about what their day would look like if they were sick and their kids were home from school hungry.  I walked myself through each step I had taken at lunch time today and pictured what it would be like for them...

My neighbor in Africa would wake up sick and weak, with lessened capacity just like me.  But likely she would wake up that way every day due to lack of nutrition.  Her children wouldn't be home from school for a day because they had a 24 hour virus.  Her kids would be home from school because she couldn't afford to send them  or because they were seriously ill and too sick to go.  When her kids told her they were hungry, she couldn't just wander over to a fully stocked cabinet and get them food.  She'd have to look in their eyes and say "We don't have any.  Let's go try to find some".  If she happened to find some food to cook, she'd have to walk a long distance (perhaps miles) to fill up a container of dirty water to boil to cook.  She'd have to collect wood for a fire.  She'd take her children with her while she searched for what she needed, likely carrying the little ones on her back the whole way.  What took me five minutes to do would very well take her half a day at the very least.  And if she was lucky enough to feed her children, they would be hungry again soon after. 

While I take my medicine for my poor little tummy ache, she lives with her pain.  I open my laptop from the comfort of my couch and do work that provides me with more income in a month than she'll ever see in her lifetime.  She doesn't know where her next penny or meal is coming from. And yet...I complain.  God must want to sigh and hang his head at me sometimes. 

I am SO stinking comfortable in my life.  Even after three years of God prying my eyes open to finally see the poor and vulnerable...I still find myself so wrapped up in ME.  Yuck.

I look around at all the things that I have and all the ways that I protect myself from even the slightest discomfort and I'm sick all over again.  I was listening to Tom Davis speak this weekend at a justice conference and he was talking about how we RUN from vulnerability.  We view vulnerability as weakness.  We numb ourselves from grief and pain.  We make it so that everything in our lives is protected and stable.
We have life insurance, home insurance, car insurance, our kids wear helmets every time they get on anything that moves...it's Protect, Protect, Protect.  Shield ourselves from anything and everything that might cause us pain.

And yet, God doesn't ask us to protect ourselves.  In fact, He says the opposite.  He says to get vulnerable.  He says to give up everything we have to follow Him - including our safety and comfort.  He says we may not have a place to lay our heads at night if we follow Him.  He says we might be asked to sell all our possessions and give them to the poor.  He actually PROMISES us that in this life we WILL have trouble - it's not if, but when!

And yet, I go about my days far from dependent on God.  When we have SO much stuff in our lives, our need for God can tend to slide away.  I heard someone say this week that we don't pray for our daily bread because we have cabinets full of it.  We know where our next meals are coming from.  There's no need to ask for it.  Wow.  Isn't it God who gives us the ability to work so we can earn a living and put bread on our table?  At the end of the day, isn't everything we have a gift from God?  When will I start living fully in the realization that God will always, always give me what I need and that I can let go?  I can hold the blessings in my life loosely and recognize that there may come a day when some of them will be gone.  And it will be okay.  Because at the end of the day, God is always good.  And He has only asked two things of me - to love HIM with everything I've got and to love people like I love myself.  The rest is noise.

The Impact of Our Stories: WATER

Clean water.  We turn it on in our kitchens to wash the dishes or to get a drink.  We use it to shower.  We use it to cook.  We give it to our pets.  We lavish it on our thirsty grass in the summer.  FACT: My grass drinks cleaner water than most of the people in the world. 

When we went to Ethiopia to adopt our son, Tariku we learned his story more fully.  He had lived for four years or so with his birth father and step mother.  They collected their water from a small dirty pond that was contaminated with God knows what.  His family had no other choice.  They needed water and that was the water they had to use.  Tariku's little brother became very sick and had severe diarrhea from the water.  At the age of one, he died. From dirty water.

When we brought Tariku home from Ethiopia in April he had severe stomach and blood parasites from the water...likely, the same parasites that ultimately took his brother's life.  Of course, here in America he had clean water and access to medication that got rid of the parasites relatively fast.  The same sort of simple care would have likely saved the life of his brother.

Parents all over the world today do not have a choice about the water they give their children to drink.  Their kids must have water and if the only water that is available is contaminated, then that's the water they get.  Tariku watched his brother be born and die in the same year all because there was no clean water available in his village.  As a mother, as a sibling, as a human being...this angers me.  Everyone should have the ability to drink clean water.  Period.  Have you ever taken the time to count how many outlets you have in your house for water?  I counted mine today and I have 10 places I can go in my house at any time to get clean water. Ten.  Most people in Africa can't even get to an unclean water source within a ten minute walk.

I'll never forget that about a month after we brought Tariku home from Ethiopia we took a weekend trip to Washington DC.  We visited the World War II Memorial where there is a gigantic fountain.  We walked down to the edge of the fountain and Tariku got on his knees and leaned over and cupped the water in his hand as if he was going to drink it.  I told him not to drink it because it was dirty and that wasn't what it was for.  In that moment I realized that water was much cleaner than any water he'd ever drank in Ethiopia.  He looked up at me confused after I had told him not to drink the water.  He said "For animals?"  I said no.  Then he said "To wash?"  I said no.  Then he said "What for then?".  What for, indeed.   Here we are in America, where we have the luxury of clean water being simply a decoration to look at.

If we can afford to have clean water as a decoration...if we can pay for it to water our lawns and fill our swimming pools, can we not afford to help a community like the one Tariku came from provide clean water for their families to drink?

Tariku is turning five in just a few days.  In celebration of his birth, his story and his miraculous presence in our lives, our family is going to raise the money to build a water well for a village similar to the one Tariku grew up in.  Isn't it cool that you and I can do that?! 

All it takes is $5,000 to impact the lives of 50 families.  That's 50 families who will be able to drink water without worrying it might kill them.  What an incredible opportunity we have to make a life changing difference for an entire community. 

Tariku's story is heartbreaking in many ways, but it is mostly a story of love and hope.  The hope that one little boy can help make a difference for 50 families just like his birth family.  That is a story I can't wait to watch play out.  And thanks to charity:water you can be a part.  We have three months to raise this money and it's going to happen.  I feel it.

Click HERE to read more about how to get involved or to donate.  Let's help Tariku tell his story so that 50 families can live to tell theirs.  Thank you!