“There can be no happiness if the things you do are different from the things you believe.” 

I once saw this quote on the back of a sugar packet. I don’t remember who it is by, but I think there is a great amount of truth in it.  Here, there could be many reasons for me to be unhappy. The close quarters shared with 14 other women. The lack of running water. The unreliable electricity. The gecko in my bed.  In the midst of these things, I am finding that I really am happiest when I am doing the things I believe.

I believe that Jesus heals blind eyes. Every week on bush outreaches and at church on Sundays, the blind receive sight.  I believe that Jesus heals deaf ears. This too, we see every week. I believe that Jesus can raise the dead.  My roommate returned from an outreach last weekend, during which she met a woman who had died, but had been raised by the prayers of the people in the local church.

I believe that the growing Church is comprised not only of “church people” but of those living in the squalor of mud huts and redbrick & tin shanties—the poor inheriting the Kingdom! (Matt 5:6)– and so I find happiness in getting to go to these places bring them into the Body of Christ.

I believe that fasting that pleases God is to care for the orphan and the widow. It brings me joy, then, to be able to go into a neighboring village and help the woman who sells peanuts on the side of the road patch up her palm frond and bamboo roof.

I believe that the Muslims I meet are desperately looking for an encounter with the Living God, not a new theology. So it is a pleasure for me to be able to offer that to just one. In downtown Pemba there is a wonderful pastry shop. The walls of the shop have huge Arabic writing and murals all over them. I have befriended a young Muslim woman named Zaida who works there. Every time I go to the bakery next to the shop, I pop in to see if she is working, and spend some time with her. We exchange text messages a few times a week (that’s how most people communicate with their cell phones here).We have made plans to spend time together away from her workplace, but each time, she has not shown up. She smiles sheepishly and gives a gentle apology each time I see her next. Because I believe that all it takes is one encounter with the love of God to change her life for eternity, I gladly accept her apology and make yet another date to meet with her.

The fact remains that there are still so many potential reasons to get down.  The constant clamor of begging children.  The stubborn film of red dust that coats everything. The mosquitoes.  Through it all God is showing me how to be delighted and joyful, because the things I get to do here are the same as the things I believe.

Me desculpe por nao update o meu blog antes. Eu cehguei em Pemba ja faz um bom tempo e estou trabalhando junto com a Holy Given School of Missions, que comecou em Junho 5. Sou uma administradora, responsavel por todas as chaves da base, cordeno viagens ao aeroporto de todos os nossos 160 estudantes, lidero esforcos evangelisticos, sou ‘dona de casa,’ e lidero um estudo biblico. Estou ocupada mas estou me divertindo. Aqui vai alguns pensamentos das ultimas semanas que eu queria compartilhar…
A ultima vez que eu estive aqui, eu conheci um grande numero de garotos que nos chamavam de ‘village kids.’ Esse nome os distinguia das outras criancas aqui na base do Ministerio Arco-Iris. Logo quando cheguei na base, eles me cercaram. Eles lembraram de mim, da ultima vez que vim aqui. Eles perceberam que eu cortei o cabelo e me acusaram de ter demorado demais. Estes garotos as vezes me enchem o saco, mas com eles estou aprendendo um pouco mais sobre o Reino de Deus. A pobreza deles os faz pedir coisas constantemente… agua, sacola, os sapatos nos meus pes. Eles imploram, manipulam, fazem charme, ameacam, mas na maioria das vezes eles vao embora so com um sorriso e abraco.

Depois de minhas conversas com esses garotos pensando em que tipo de homens eles vao ser quando crescerem. No momento, eles sao so uns garotinhos e a maioria continua usando a mesma roupa - hoje, so pedacos de pano - que eu os vi usando ano passado. Muitos nao vao pra escola e gastam o dia perto da base, esperando que algum estrangeiro dar alguma coisa pra eles. Eles sao vulneraveis, criancas de uma populacao pobre e vulneravel, mas o Reino dos Ceus pertence a eles.

Eu sempre me pergunto sobre como e’ que o Reino de Deus se manifestara na vida desses. Se essa declaracao foi o que eu fui mandado levar a eles, o que isso significa pra vida deles? Eu estive meditando e eu creio que significa isto: amor e justica. Jesus repreendeu o Fariseus por passar por cima dessas duas coisas (Lucas 11:42) e eles eram os que nao reconheceram o Reino de Deus no seu meio. Aqui o tempo todo os surdos ouvem, os cegos veem, os famintos sao alimentados e os orfaos acham um lar. Isso e’ amor. Eu ainda estou perguntando a Deus o que significa justica pra esses garotinhos. Eu acho que a justica do Reino que eu posso demonstrar por agora e’ compaixao individual. A injustica que essas criancas sofrem todo dia vem de ganancia, crueldade e pobreza sem saida. Apesar de receberem uma refeicao e um presente aqui e ali, meu coracao me diz que nao e’ suficiente. Ja ouvi falar que caridade sem justica e’ um insulto. Obras que ajudam algumas necessidades temporarias sem compaixao que os levam a uma experiencia eterna com Deus sao uma falta de amor com as criancas e nao impressiona a Deus. Estar aqui me ajuda esperar que um dia eu poderei dar justica pratica para pessoas como eles. Quero dizer, justica que repoem ganancia com generosidade extravagante, egoismo com servico, crueldade com bondade, e pobreza com oportunidade. Isso e’ amor e isso e’ justica. Isso e’ o Reino de Deus.

Eu gostaria de saber o que voces pensam… deixe uma mensagem ou mandem um e-mail.

“…one’s life does not consist in the abundance of the things he possesses.” Luke 12:15

This verse came to mind a couple of days ago when I had to take out the trash. Here in Pemba that means putting the garbage in a shallow pit just outside the compound and burning it. You have to squat in the garbage and poke it with sticks to make sure the flame doesn’t go out. On days without a breeze, the smoke just gathers, stinging your eyes, and leaving a clinging stench in your hair, skin, and clothes.

The expression “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure” has taken on new meaning to me here. I live in a house with 14 other women, and it’s amazing how much “treasure” we can generate in just a few days. We collect our kitchen garbage in cardboard boxes to help the fire, and bathroom trash in little plastic bags. As I walk to the pit with all of our garbage, children and adults from the village ask me if they can have my trash. I have to fight off little boys trying to pry a plastic bag out of my hands. They don’t know that it contains used toilet paper (we can’t flush toilet paper here) and wads of hair pulled from the bathroom floor. Grown women—many of them widows, but some of them not—point at the boxes asking if they can have them, though they are overflowing with rotting banana peels, stinking egg shells, and assorted broken containers. Grown men eye the empty water bottles that will soon just be lumps of melted plastic.

By the time I reach the pit, I have a captive audience that will watch my every move until all of the garbage is gone. They stand all around me. Even a flame 3 feet high doesn’t stop one of the boys from reaching into the garbage to pull out a half rotten orange. Another boy reaches for an empty peanut butter jar. I tell him to stop, that he can’t do that, and in response he picks up a rock and with expert aim pelts me in the arm. At that moment, I wonder what this must look like from their perspective. I have enough money to buy loads of things, enough money to have boxes overflowing with trash. And all I have to say to them about the things in the flame is, “I don’t want it, but you can’t have it.” The look in their eyes says to me, “You cannot even imagine our poverty.”

And they are right. It makes me ask: What kind of poverty causes people to literally come flocking to congregate around a putrid, burning pit? What kind of poverty causes little boys to fight over a charred piece of moldy bread when in just a couple of hours they will be given a free lunch of a heaping plate of rice and beans?

People here experience poverty not just in their bodies, but in their spirits. This is a poverty that has reached down into the deepest parts of who they are, robbing them of even their dignity. This is beyond begging; it is one thing to ask for someone’s food, another to be willing to pull it out of a heap of smoldering garbage. Please pray with me that through the work of Iris Ministries and others preaching the Gospel here, these people will meet the only One who can restore their dignity to them and reveal to them their true worth. Please also pray that improved programs that will help their material needs while honoring their culture and traditions are soon introduced to this area.

“The thrust for international missions will be totally revolutionized over the next decade, as intimacy with Jesus becomes priority in the life of the believer over evangelism itself. Ministry to the Lrod will take priority over ministry to others and thus empower our ministry to others. The love of God will be restored to its rightful place as the chief commandment, thus enabling us to carry out the second commandment– to love our neighbors as ourselves… A new generation of missionary is being raised up, whose hearts are captivated by the lover of their souls.” John Crowder, The New Mystics

My apologies for not updating my blog sooner. I made is safely to Pemba 3 weeks ago, and have been working with the Holy Given School of Missions, which started on June 5. I’m an administrator, in charge of all the keys for our base, coordinated airport pick-ups of our 160+ students, lead a bush outreach group, am a house mom, and lead a women’s small group. It’s keeping me busy, but it’s been fun as well. Here are some thoughts from the past few weeks that I wanted to share…

The last time I was here, I got to know a large number of boys that are “village kids” as they are called to distinguish them from the children under the care of Iris Ministries. As soon as I arrived at the base, they mobbed me as I got out of the van. They remembered my name, noticed that I had cut my hair, and accused me of taking far too long to return. These boys sometimes wear on my nerves, but they are where I’m learning the most about the Kingdom of God . Their poverty causes them to ask for things constantly… a water bottle, a plastic bag, the shoes off my feet. They beg and connive, charm, and threaten, but at the end of the day (usually) have to walk away with just a hug and a smile.

I often leave my interactions with them wondering what kind of men they will grow up to be. For now, they are a bunch of scruffy boys, most of whom are still wearing the exact same clothes –now tattered rags– they were wearing when I last saw them in August. Many of them don’t go to school, and spend most of their days hanging around the base waiting for some unsuspecting westerner to give in to their pleas. They are unbelievably cheeky, can break into a brawl at a moment’s notice, and have little regard for authority. Their tough exteriors and constant begging reveal what they really are. They are the vulnerable, poor children of a vulnerable, poor population, and the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to them.

And so I also wonder what it looks like for these ones to experience the Kingdom of God being upon them. If that is the declaration I’ve been commissioned to take to them, what does that actually mean for their lives? I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit lately, and here’s what I’ve come up with: It means love and it means justice. Jesus scolded the Pharisees for passing by these two things (Luke 11:42), and they were ones who did not recognize that the expression of God’s kingdom was in their midst. All the time here, the deaf hear and the blind see, the hungry are fed and orphans are brought into a safe family. That is love. I’m still asking God to show me what justice looks like for these little boys. For now, I think Kingdom justice that I’m able to give them looks like individual compassion. The injustice that these kids deal with everyday is that of greed, selfishness, undeserved cruelty, and poverty with no relief in sight. So, while they may get a meal or a new toy every now and then, my heart tells me that that is not enough. It has been said that charity without justice is an insult. Works that meet temporary material needs without compassion that leads to an experience of the eternal God are not only a disservice to these boys, but are also not impressive to God. Being here has rekindled my hope that one day I will be able to help give a practical justice to people like this. That is, one that replaces greed with extravagant generosity, selfishness with selflessness, cruelty with kindness, and poverty with opportunity. This is love, and this is justice. And this is the Kingdom of God.

I would love to hear your thoughts on this… please leave me a comment here or send me an email.

Ai de mim! Pois… meus olhos viram o rei, o Senhor dos exércitos! Isaías 6:5

Ai de mim. Isaías disse estas palavras no momento que ele foi confrontado com a revelação da santidade de Deus. Instantaneamente ele se tornou consciente da sua condição de homem de lábios impuros. Antes de sentar e escrever, eu não tinha certeza que esse era a melhor maneira de começar o meu blog de missões. Mas quanto mais eu fixava meus olhos nestas palavras, eu percebi que “Ai de mim!” é exatamente o que eu preciso de falar antes de ir pra Moçambique. Não para ressaltar meus fracassos – ninguém precisa ser profeta para percebe-los – mas porque o que aconteceu logo após. No momento que o anjo encostou a brasa nos lábios de Isaías, alguma coisa mudou. Isaiás entendeu não só o seu pecado, mas também que havia uma mensagem literalmente queimando em seu lábios para as pessoas perdidas ao seu redor.

Neste verão, além de estar ajudando na administração e pastoreamento dos estudantes da Escola de Missões do Ministério Arco-Íris, eu estarei aprendendo o que o Senhor quer fazer através de mim nas nações. Por enquanto, eu sei que eu preciso ter lábios que queimam e um coração que queima com fogo direto do altar. Eu quero que minha resposta pra Deus seja como Isaías, “Eis-me aqui. Evia-me a mim!”

É fantástico poder participar de um ministério que treina e levanta alguns dos missionários mais radicalmente amorosos e sobrenaturais que o mundo há de ver. Estou feliz pelo o que vai acontecer nos próximos 3 meses. Sem dúvida, eu vou ver o surdo ouvir, o cego ver, o mudo falar, as espinhas tortas se endireitar e ver também centenas de pessoas dançando por causa do novo conhecimento de Jesus e da salvação eterna. O versículo “O povo que andava em trevas viu uma grande luz; e sobre os que habitavam na terra de profunda escuridão resplandeceu a luz” (Isaías 9:2) se tornará mais real do que nunca quando eu ver a luz de Jesus brilhando nos olhos daqueles que se entregaram a Jesus.

Por favor, visite o meu blog frequentemente pra ver o que Deus está fazendo aqui em Pemba, Moçambique.

“Woe is me, I am undone…for my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts.” Isaiah 6:5

Woe is me. Before I sat down to write, I wasn’t sure if this was the best way to start a missions blog. Isaiah spoke these words as he was confronted with a revelation of God’s holiness, and became instantly aware of his wretched condition as “a man of unclean lips”. But the more I looked at these words, the more I was convinced that a “woe is me” moment was just the thing I need during my time in Mozambique.  Not for the sake of pointing out my imperfections– it doesn’t take a prophet to diagnose those!– but because of what happened next.  As soon as the angel touched the coal to his lips, something in Isaiah changed.  He became convinced not of his sinful condition, but that he had a message literally burning in him for the desperately lost people around him.

 This summer, aside from helping with administration and pastoral care of students at Iris Ministries’ Holy Given School of Missions, I will be learning what the Lord wants to do in me as He sends me to the nations.  For now, I know that I need to have my lips and my heart burned with fire straight from the altar, so that my response to God’s call will always be like Isaiah’s, “Here am I! Send me!”

 It is amazing to get to be part of a ministry program I believe is training and raising up some for the most radically loving and supernaturally minded missionaries the world will see.  I’m excited for what the next 3 months will hold.  Without doubt, I expect to see deaf ears and blind eyes opened, mute mouths shouting praise, twisted spines straightened, and hundreds of people dancing joyfully in the new knowledge that they will spend eternity with the one true God.  The scripture “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light” (Isaiah 9:2) will become more alive to me as I see that very light shining in the eyes of people turning to Jesus.

 Please check in frequently to see just what God is doing here in Pemba, Mozambique.