Divine Intersection

Photo by Bgrace

Praise is awaiting you, O God, in Zion;

And to You the vow shall be performed.

O You who hear prayer,

To You all flesh will come.

Blessed is the man You choose,

And cause to approach You,

That he may dwell in Your courts,

We shall be satisfied with the goodness of Your house,

Of Your holy temple.

Psalm 65:1,2,4

(NKJV)

These verses were ushered into my heart this morning.  With them came the remembrance of Jim Elliot's words in a letter to a much beloved friend, Pete, who joined him later in ministry in Ecuador.

"He will lead you too, and not let you miss your signs.  The sound of gentle stillness after the thunder and wind have passed will be the ultimate word from God.  Tarry long (wait) for it. Remember the words of Amy Carmichael: 'The vows of God are on me.  I may not stay to play with shadows or pluck earthly flowers, till I my work have done and rendered up account.'"

A beautiful reciprocity flows between bowing and intimacy. It is He who draws my heart to approach Him.  His love births in me a love returned.  As I come before my God, I know that it is He alone I am beholden to.  My vows are to Him alone. I step my soul forward and bow my flesh before Him, the might of His love moves through me and bends my heart and my will to His.  Nothing more can hinder my approach to His sanctuary, and the flow of my heart becomes the flow of His.  Satisfied in His Holy presence, it is my blessedness to enter into all and only the steps of His leading.

The morning of September 18, I was on my way to a "tea party" event.  Rev. Mary was speaking at the Sheraton.  Before I left, she sent me a quick e-mail to make sure I wasn't going to the Sheraton in Hershey--but in Harrisburg--off 81.  This kind bit of information actually served to confuse me.
 "It's a good thing she told me that, or I might have gone to the one right off 283," I thought to myself.
So I figured I'd just follow 81 until I reached the right exit.  It didn't take me long on 81 to realize what had happened. I needed to go back to where I would have headed in the first place. So I was a bit stressed as I pulled off the first exit right above Hershey and I remember saying something like,
"Lord, why did you let me be confused?  I'm trying to get there early so I can be helpful." 
As I pulled onto the exit ramp, I was about 2 cars back from the stop light at an intersection where there was construction and the road crossing in front of us was a bit congested.  My eyes rested on the car blocking the path of our traffic lane.  I did a double take and realized I knew the driver of the car.  Suddenly every cell of my being rushed into my heart and out toward that car... which at exactly that moment began to move forward, through the light, right and around the corner.  I felt every measure of desperation to get to that car.  Every question, every doubt, every fear that the driver wouldn't receive my embrace was irrelevant.  I knew if I could only get the car to stop, that I would rush toward the driver and throw my arms around this dear one and that my love would overwhelm every possible hindrance that has warred against our friendship.  Every nerve in my being was amped up,  willing the traffic to clear in front of me. 
It was no use.  As I turned the corner there was no sight of the car.  The pain of disappointment set in. I knew that I was not to try and find it.
"Why, God?  Why did you do this to me?" 
There was no doubt in my mind this was not a coincidence.  I knew that I hadn't been misdirected.  This was a divine intersection at an appointed time.  Why, it has been said before, so close and yet so far?
The only way to understand was to yield my Spirit to the Lord.  I was actually quite miffed at Him. 
"Do you have any idea what you just did to me?"  (Why do I continue to ask questions like that even though I know perfectly well He knows exactly what He just did?)
Trust, I reminded myself. God is good. I silenced myself and waited. 
A quiet question welled up in my spirit.  "What did you feel when you saw your friend?" 
"Love, overwhelming love. There was absolutely no hesitation in my spirit," I answered.
"That is how it will be," came the Lord's reply.

I tell you this story because it is so much a picture of what I am learning on so many levels.  We have earthly desires and longings.  Earthly does not mean sinful.  We are earthly creatures.  But we are spiritual creatures as well, and our earthly desires must fall in line behind our yieldedness to our heavenly Lord.  At times we want for things we feel the lack of and we want to be freed of things that are burdensome.  Our Lord does not disregard these things.  He knows of them and He cares.  And yet the order of things is that our worship of Him and His work for us come first.  We then place ourselves in position to receive from His hand and to be relieved of burdens as He sees fit or allow them to be redeemed according to His will.   

Seek first the kingdom and all these shall be added...

Worship, work, wait...

And if you find that you have a hard time believing that God can bring you together again with an estranged friend, here are a few more words from Amy that have helped me and I pray would bless you.

If...I say, "Yes, I forgive, but I cannot forget," as though the God, who twice a day washes all the sands on all the shores of all the world, could not wash such memories from my mind, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

(From her book If.  I highly recommend it. If you are dealing with this difficulty, especially Part 3, chapter 5.)

Me and Swazi

Photo by Wil Sauder

So for those of you just catching up with me, I thought you might want to hear the story of how my trip to Swaziland came about.  It goes back to a day when I met up with Rev. Mary.  She was going to pray for a team from her church that was going to Swaziland and invited me to go with her.
She had scheduled a time for us to go to the church when the sanctuary would be empty.  When we arrived at New Hope, I had little expectation that the day would bring about something for me personally--other than a lesson--I always learn something when I'm with Rev. Mary.  My focus was just on serving her and praying for the people going to Africa.
God had other things in mind.
When I walked into the sanctuary, a very tangible sense of the presence of God came over me.  I had one of those "knowings".  God showed me this was going to be our new church home.  Matt had told me a few months earlier that he believed we were going to know this year where we were to worship, and at the time I sensed that was a "Word" from the Lord.  Funny, isn't it, how even when you believe it to be true and of God when you hear it, it can still surprise you when it actually happens?
Throughout the time she was praying before the Lord at the altar for the team, I was walking the room and the Lord was very present and showed me some things about the church, about the community, about our place there.  I told some of the people from New Hope later, "It sort of feels like an arranged marriage."  I think the Lord knew I needed to know from Him we were going to a safe place.  I have found it to be everything He told me it would be for our family. 
So I was just beginning to settle in one Sunday when Pastor Vern got up and mentioned that he could not go to Swaziland and that they were considering whether or not to send someone in his place.  The Lord impressed on me that I was to go. Seriously???  I hadn't even met the Pastor!  I was doing this little argument in my head with God, "So you want me to say hello my name is Becky and I think I'm supposed to go to Swaziland in your place?  That's gonna go over real well." 
But that's pretty much what happened.
Matt and I introduced ourselves after the service and I mentioned to him my interest.  We decided to set up a time when Matt and I and the Pastor and his wife could have dinner together.  We were able to share about our journey over the last couple years and hear about theirs.  It was a very good conversation, but the topic of Swaziland never came up.  I wondered if I had heard wrong, or maybe if it was for another time, but a few weeks later, another team member couldn't go because of eye surgery.  Again the Lord prompted me to bring it up to the Pastor.  This time we felt the Spirit of God leading us together.  Another woman I was excited to get to know was asked to join the team as well.  That was two weeks before departure.  Just enough time to get our (5!) shots.
Amazingly, God brought in all of my support in that time.  I prayed for the Lord to prompt 12 people to send $100.00.  Aside from two larger gifts that I am SO Grateful for, every gift was from a family member or friend in the amount of $100.00, except for two in the amount of $50.00.  That of course was just a double blessed $100.00.  The other cool thing was that from the day I sent out my letter for prayer and support, every day I received an e-mail or a letter with word of financial support and spiritual encouragement.  God just kept confirming to me that He was bringing everything together so I could go. I was able to purchase some equipment I needed and cover the cost of my shots.  The greatest blessing was care and support of those who encouraged me to minister.  I am so grateful to them and to the Lord for the opportunity.
The other great blessing in all of this was the team I joined.  I so appreciated each one of them and their giftedness.  Deb has such a tender heart, and I loved our conversations in the evenings.  Greg and I are oil and water when it comes to how we approach life--and it was great because when we put our strengths together we were able to come up with really rich results.  I really respect him as a Pastor.  Ken was a great pal and is going to do great things for Swaziland.  He gave me one of the best compliments ever.  He told me I was like "an old pair of shoes" to the team.  Wil has a great mind for understanding the complexities of the situation over there, and his easygoing personality and dry sense of humor kept us smiling even through some of the tough times.  And Luke--what a blessing to see him with the kids. I was going over some of the photos of  the clothes distribution yesterday.  A lot of 14 year old boys would have been embarrassed or grossed out by the ordeal--most of the kids didn't have undergarments and their clothes were filthy--but he helped them with so much grace.  AND he told me he's gonna make his safari pants his cool pants.  (Mine are more cool since they climbed Mt. Katahdin and went on an African safari...but he's got time.)
Anyways, that's the story of how my Swaziland trip came about.  I still have a lot more to share about my experiences there, so stay tuned.  For those of you wondering about Bgrace, jot me an e-mail. It's up but you need a password. I'm not sure if I'll post on it again until I'm back from Seattle and  then Iowa (but the minute I say that I'll change my mind), so there's no rush ;-).
Thank you to all who prayed, who continue to pray for me, and for all of you who contributed financially--even though it was a sacrifice.  If you are interested in seeing the team's presentation, visit New Hope Church in Harrisburg on Sunday Nov.14th.
As soon as we put up our Swazi blog I'll make sure to put a link up so you can see it.
Blessings to you all,
B

Cinderella

Of all the children lined up for the clothes distribution, I knew she was significant.  I wasn’t sure why, but I knew the Lord was drawing my attention to her.  She had to be coaxed inside, unlike some of the other children, who could hardly wait for a “new” article of clothing to wear. 

As she stepped through the doorway I caught my breath.  She was filthy.  Covered in dirt, or maybe it was soot.  And...she was mesmerizing, glowing in the sun’s rays that followed her into the dim room.  My heart was in my throat as I tried to capture her image in my mind and in my camera.  I did better with my mind.  The lighting was so tricky and I could barely get a clear view in my lens amid a room bustling with people trying to find a piece of clothing to fit each child.  The little one shied away from everyone and was obviously anxious to avoid this unfamiliar ordeal. 

Her sad, scared, silence spoke more than her rags.  She had no shoes, though I imagined, if I looked hard enough, that I might find a glass slipper in her pocket.  Her “dress” was an old jumper—the kind that snaps around a baby at the legs so you can change a diaper more easily.  But she had outgrown it so that what should have been the ankles of the outfit now hung from her knees, the snaps hanging open around her legs.  She had a little hooded sweatshirt on top, with writing that was illegible to me under the grime and glare.  I knew she was saying something to me.  I just couldn’t read her…not until today.

I was editing photos--trying to salvage some of the shots I took of her even though I have much clearer ones of other children.  I just couldn’t let her go.  So I zoomed in to look at the photo in pixel view-- and there it was written across her chest in crusty white and faded pink. 

Princess.  A little African Cinderella. 

The day of the clothes distribution I had the privilege of seeing her come out of old garments and into new ones.  Now I realize the Lord wanted me to see that her royal title was inscribed on her heart long before she got a new dress…though I’m pretty sure He was even happier than me to see her in clean, colorful clothes that fit her.  As we drove past her on the way to another care point, I remembered thinking that it was such an important thing to give her a new dress, and yet such a little thing compared to the great many needs of her heart.  What has she endured already in her young life?  Probably the loss of her parents and likely HIV positive, herself.  I wanted to give her so much more than a physical garment.  I wanted to give her sanctuary, healing...a home.

As I thought about her, the Lord began reminding me of all the gowns He's been showing me over the past two years--beautiful dresses in rich, vibrant colors and luxurious fabrics.  I had started to pray that the Lord would bring the women to me in their rags, so I could clothe them in His gowns.  I had a sense that this was a spiritual (metaphorical) and physical picture. Now I began to think about clothing His children, too.

Many things began to come together for me.

Jesus cares to clothe all His creation…

“Consider the lilies of the fields…your heavenly Father knows you need all these things.”(Matt. 6:28,30)

Jesus has come to put new garments on the spirits of His children—

“To give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness…” (Isaiah 61:3)  

I see in a way that I never have before, that garments matter to God. 
He dresses us in beauty and dignity, tenderness and healing,  joy and cloth.

Clothe us all, dear Jesus. Dress us up in Your love.

Red and Yellow, Black and White

Precious
Photo by Bgrace

Jesus loves the little children of the world.

Me, too.

Home

Photo by Bgrace

It's an interesting word. 
I've been thinking about it this morning.
Dad and Mom met me at the door, having arrived from Brazil a day before me. I heard Dad's exuberant holler, felt Mom's pats on my back, and the familiar safety of their love enveloped me.
Home.
Yesterday I wrapped my arms around little Sarah's slinged arm and shoulders and saw her eyes sparkle at the African head band I brought her. "Hi Mom," she whispered shyly, then curled her head into the crook of my shoulder as I gently held her.
I waited for Em and Grace at the bus stop.  Em got off and ran toward me yelling at the top of her voice, "Mom, you're back from Africa!" It was so good to see them.  Em jumped up and down and talked a mile a minute and Grace hugged me and said, "I missed you Mom," in her quiet, gentle way.
Home.
Jean came over as soon as she got off work. Her excitement at my return, warm welcome back hug, and happy chatter made my insides smile.
Home.
Sam about wagged his back end off at the sight of me and followed my every step around the house.  When exhaustion finally took over I laid down while Mom and Jean heated up dinner for the family.  Sam curled up in the crescent shape my legs make when I sleep on my side--his favorite resting place.
Home.
I stayed awake as long as I could, but an eighteen hour plane ride with two hours of sleep the night before and buckets of emotions will exhaust a girl. My body clock was 6 hours ahead, so I fell asleep waiting for dinner.  Suddenly these two strong arms pulled me out of my sleep and into a warm embrace. "I missed you so much, honey," the familiar and much missed voice woke me out of the darkness and I found myself in my husband's arms.
Home.

This morning, I slept in 'til 5 AM.  That's 1PM Swazi time.
I remembered how last Sunday morning, in the middle of the service at Pastor Walter's church, I slipped out the back and let the tears run unchecked down my face. 
"I don't feel ready to leave Swaziland." I spoke to the Lord out loud.  "There's so much here that needs to be done."  The presence of God was palpable. 
"Are you calling me here Lord? I am willing to come here," I offered.
"No," was His firm reply.
So I pleaded with Him to tell me, "Then where?"
"Everywhere," He said.
I laughed, God always finds a way to surprise me with His words.
"Then I will go, show me how," my prayer was more of an ache.
And I know, because He goes with me, anywhere and everywhere is...
Home.

HOME
In that simple word, there is shelter, comfort, sanctuary, and room enough for everyone.
Even for the so many least of these I met in the last two weeks? 

Those who have no dad, no mom, no husband;
No food;
No dry shelter with electricity and running water;
No sympathy from friends or shoulder to cry on;
No way to get their medicine for the disease that claims their body;
No way to make sure their children are cared for when death swallows them up.

Yes, there is Home in the arms of God, even for them.  A home that cannot be taken away.  A home that will last.
The most surprising thing about Swaziland, to me, is how many of them have crossed over the threshold of that doorway and live in the sanctuary of that belief.

More than ever before I saw the blessings of Matthew five come alive these past two weeks.  The call to help our brothers and sisters and children and parents and grandparents in Christ Jesus rings all the more clear. 

They have much to teach us. 
We have much to learn, and much we can give.

        ³ “ Blessed are the poor in spirit,
For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
       ⁴ Blessed are those who mourn,
For they shall be comforted.
       ⁵ Blessed are the meek,
For they shall inherit the earth.
       ⁶ Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
For they shall be filled.
       ⁷ Blessed are the merciful,
For they shall obtain mercy.
       ⁸ Blessed are the pure in heart,
For they shall see God.
       ⁹ Blessed are the peacemakers,
For they shall be called sons of God.
       ¹⁰ Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake,
For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

 ¹¹ “Blessed are you when they revile and persecute you, and say all kinds of evil against you falsely for My sake. ¹² Rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Mommy's Comin', Baby

Photo by Bgrace

I'm sure there are worse things than being 9,000 miles away when a door falls on your four year old and breaks her collar bone...but right now it doesn't feel like it.  I'll be there in 28 hours, baby.
Daddy and Jean will hold you 'til I get there, and so will the angels.  (I know because I asked them.)
Grace will read to you, and I bet, if you ask, Em will tell you the story about David and Goliath.
Counting every minute, every mile...
Oh my aching arms.

Come to find out...

Photo by Bgrace

...they have giving trees in Swaziland too.

Be Careful What You Ask For

Photo by Bgrace

There are so many sights that bring tears here.

 The one that gets me every time is the sight of children caring for children.

I wrote this prayer in the car on the way to the airport. 

Awake in my heart compassion

Even if it causes it to break

Awake in my hands healing

Though from the touch they ache

Awake in me faith

Though it take me toward greater mountains

Awake in me courage

Though it may lead me to bear up under the burden of greater responsibility

Awake in me perception

Though my ability to understand

Finds itself in the shadow of all I see.

Sight For Sore Eyes

Photo by Bgrace

After a long day witnessing overwhelming suffering, we were grateful for this glimpse of  gentle giraffes on the roadside. 

Really grateful.

Yebo

Sawabona

photo by Bgrace

Sawabona is what you say when you greet someone in Swaziland.

It means I see you.

Sawabona, Swaziland.

Sawabona.

Love Bears All Things

Photo by Bgrace

Sometimes the hardest things to look at are those which most need to be seen.  

Last week, the girls and I were coming out of a restaurant in Lancaster, and as we crossed the parking lot, a very large and intimidating man stormed out of another restaurant with a little girl in tow.  By that I mean he was holding her up off the ground by her arms which were stretched above her head.  He was screaming at her and alternately shaking her and squeezing and pulling her wrists.  When she cried out he smacked her and which only made her cry more.  His response to her tears was to scream at her and threaten her that if she didn’t stop crying he would do something worse. 

It was a horrible thing for me to see, but much more traumatic for my children.  I hurried them into the van and grabbed my cell and called the police.  Every protective instinct in me wanted to throw myself in between that man and the girl who looked to be no  older than Sarah.  But I knew if I did that I could be placing my children in danger, myself in danger, and I would risk the possibility that he might leave before the police could get there.  So we stayed in the car, me on the phone with 911 narrating what was going on across the parking lot and my girls too upset to look and yet too upset not to. 

It took the police too long to get there.  After they arrived  I gave my statement, identified the man,  then left as they questioned him. My girls were a  mess, as was I.  They were so worried about the little girl.  What would happen to her?  What would happen to the man?  I didn’t have many answers. As we drove home,  I asked each of the girls to take a turn and pray for the little girl’s safety and for the man to never be allowed to treat her like that again.  When it was my turn to pray I found I could not keep the tears out of my voice.

 “Mom, are you crying?”  Emily was upset all the more at my crying.

 “Yes, honey, I’m feeling very sad for the little girl.” 

I reassured the girls as best as I could that the police would take care of the little girl, that they would tell her Daddy he couldn’t treat her like that anymore.  But honestly I wondered at what would happen.  What if the police didn’t believe it was severe enough to take the man into custody that night.  Would the Dad go home and punish her and blame her for the police questioning him?  All sorts of possibilities ran through my head.  All I could do was pray. 

Emily started having panic attacks a few days later.  She has started to associate everything with what she saw and cannot get the thoughts out of her head.  She cannot differentiate between what is real and what is not.  She is doing everything she can NOT to think about what she saw.  The result is that it is what she most thinks about.  Since she doesn’t know what to do with those thoughts, and how they make her feel, she begins to panic.

But what really threw me was her reaction when she was very upset and I started to pray for her.  She became very angry and yelled at me, “Stop praying!  You always bring God into everything. What does He have to do with this? I don’t even know if I believe in Him anymore anyway!”  She ran to her room, threw herself onto her bed and sobbed. 

Slowly I followed her upstairs, taken aback at her reaction.  I prayed for wisdom as I went. 

“Em,” I said gently.

“Mom,” she was barely able to get the words out, “I’m so confused.”  “If God is real, how come when I pray He doesn’t answer my prayers?  I don’t even know if I believe He’s real.  I didn’t want to tell you because I thought maybe you wouldn’t love me anymore.” 

I wrapped my arms around her and said, “Emily, I will always love you.  There is nothing you could ever do that will change that.  And it’s OK if you have doubts about God.  I sometimes struggle with that too.  When I do, I ask God to show me that He is real.”

“But I’m so confused! I don’t know what to believe.”  She began to panic again and I calmed her with my voice.

“There is no hurry honey.  God is very patient.”

We spoke more and I decided to keep her home from school the next day.  We spent a lot of time processing together what had happened, how it made her feel.  We talked about thoughts she was struggling with and how to handle them.  We talked about how things that were causing her to panic were like the situation she witnessed and how they weren’t alike.  We talked about how afraid she was feeling now, and how it made her question what she believes.

“The good thing , Em, is that no matter how lost we are, God is never lost.  There is a story in the Bible that tells us about what God does when we are lost.  Do you remember it?”  She shook her head.   “It’s the story of the lost coin.” 

Emily asked me if I would tell it to her.  So I explained that the woman in the story kept sweeping and sweeping and sweeping in the dirt until she finally found her lost coin.  Even though the coin was lost, the woman wasn’t.  “God will never stop sweeping until you aren’t lost anymore Em.”  “He’ll always be sweeping for us.”  She was comforted by the thought.

 I must admit, there was a thought in the back of my mind that wished Emily had never witnessed the situation in the parking lot.  But the fact that Emily is so sensitive to it all also tells me that she might just care enough about these things to do something about them.  The fact that all of this shakes her concept of God so deeply tells me that she understands that there is a dissonance in her spirit about a God who loves and a God who allows a little girl to be abused.   My prayer is that I can help her to move toward the God who doesn’t always explain, doesn’t always intervene, and be used by Him to help her bring about change.  In order to do that, she will have to learn to bear up under the burden of witnessing the pain and the darkness in the lives of others.  But isn’t this asking of her more than she should have to bear? 

I know the next bend in my journey will call all of these emotions out in me.  It will be hard to keep my eyes open.  To SEE.  Because I know I will feel compelled to help and yet feel all the more helpless.  I know that it will mess with me.  I realize that it will unsettle my spirit and break my heart. 

Dear God help me to bear all things.   Keep my eyes and ears open.  Don’t let them close at the sight of pain and darkness and despair.  God help me to move toward you with the questions.  Help me to keep looking at what You see, and hearing what You say in the midst of so many needs.  Don’t let me be unaffected or unchanged.  May I be moved to be used.  Put such a deep well of love and compassion in me that it will flow out of me and bring refreshment to the thirsty.  And keep sweeping, until none of us are lost anymore.